I’m not that into writing blogs here anymore, not sure why. when i was a kid i used to keep a diary, or, at least, when i was in my 20s i endeavoured to maintain a weekly journal. but it’s case of seeing any point in it. i mean, yes it’s a good way of noting things for the future, to remind oneself of things that you’d otherwise forget. but it’s all vanity, it’s nothing compared to this veil of tears.

anyway, i have been meaning to put cursor to screen for ages, but like i say, the idea of it has not appealed. what can i talk about that’s meaningful? a few films? a play i read? coincidences?

I was on a train heading to Norwich a couple of weeks ago, and the conductor made an announcement where he referred to the rear of the train as the ‘rare’ of the train. Which made me smile because the only other person i recall pronouncing it like that was my mother. And i remember correcting her – but maybe she was right in a sense, maybe there is a colloquial way of expressing it different to the official one.

Around that time i developed a tickly cough which, over the next few days, got worse and worse. By the monday i was waking up in the middle of the night unable to breathe. was this covid? Strep A? i didn’t have any other symptoms. i did a gig on tuesday in Yorkshire with my voice juts about hanging on. But then woke up on wednesday completely voice-less. so i cancelled wednesday’s gig, which in a way was a relief, as it was a no money gig all the way back in south wales. then on the thursday and friday i had gigs up north again. was desperate not to pull any of them – i’d already lost one gig a moth before when the car broke down – so, thanks to salt water gargling, honey and other medicines, i managed to make it through. the thursday audience ,in chester Live Rooms, was a peachy one, very nice, very understanding, and the sound man cranked the volume on teh mic up max.

By the way i bought a new car…Fiat Panda.