It's been a weekend of goodbyes. Lots of them. I have to admit that some of them were harder than others, but saying goodbye is always hard in some way. One of them was so unexpected, I certainly wasn't prepared for it. I found myself in Church on Friday night to see a friend's son confirmed. I was really pleased I went along, as he's turned into a very impressive young man. I wish him well as he makes his way in life and as he starts to say goodbye himself to his childish preoccupations and grows to maturity. But as I stood and sat (I didn't kneel, heathen that I am) in the church, and listened to the service, and looked around at all the trappings of christianity, I came to the simple inescapable conclusion that I am a confirmed atheist. I simply don't believe in God or organised religion. Not a bit of it.

I wonder how many people have gazed up at the cross in a church and had the same thought - that this really means absolutely nothing to me. As I stared up at the figure, I said my goodbyes to what remained of my religious beliefs. It was a strange feeling. I tried to put my finger on it, and I realised that the feeling was in fact guilt. A twinge of good old fashioned god fearing guilt. And then it was done. That guilty feeling simply underlined why I reject this and all religions. Why would I feel guilty at thinking this, just because I was in church? There simply is no rational reason, and the guilt comes from years of indoctrination that someone, something, some God, was monitoring what I thought and did at all times. But somehow if I really believed in all this stuff that I saw and heard around me, believed in this one true God, then I'd be fine. But I don't believe. I have no faith to hold on to. Not a shred left. So on Friday night, I said goodbye to God.

That wasn't enough for one evening though. There was more. I headed across town, got lost somewhere in Bexley, before finding the venue for my next goodbye. There were lots of smiles. Plenty of laughing. More than enough drinking. A different kind of goodbye. A smile, a hug, a kiss and a twinge of regret and it was done. Back home to bed, to get up for the next day's goodbyes.

An early start after a restless, sleepless night, kept awake by the sound of my own thoughts. I'm fairly sure it wasn't God keeping me awake. He doesn't exist, remember? The next goodbye was to my erstwhile house mate as he moved into a shared flat with another friend. I spent the day helping them move, and as I did I discussed the goodbyes of the previous day with one of them. As we talked, it seemed to me that as each day goes on, I'm in the process of saying another goodbye. A long goodbye to my youth, if you like.

It's not something I'm concerned about. Quite the contrary, I'm actually quite pleased that I'm becoming more comfortable in myself as I approach a new time in my life. I'm not keen on staying out all night drinking. I'm not likely to go to night clubs. Shhh. Don't tell anyone but I think I quite like acting my age. That's not so bad. But things are definitely changing for me. I'm quite certain that I've said goodbye to a lot of aspects of my life as a younger person.

With that amount of farewells in such a short amount of time, I escaped to the woods to mull over my thoughts. It was muddy. Glastonbury muddy to give you an idea. Despite the clocks going forward, I left quite late, so I had to walk as fast as my legs could carry me. The mud was therefore a challenge. In order to make it to Epping for sunset, I couldn't afford to get bogged down in the mud. As I walked, as I thought about the previous two days, I constantly struggled with the mud. I found the best way to deal with it was to keep up the pace and plough on regardless. Any other way meant that I got stuck, or slid about. In any case, it would hold me up as I pussy footed my way through. And with about 15 miles to walk, that could be an awful lot of pussy footing.

Saying goodbyes are hard, I thought to myself. But as I strode onwards through the mud, it occurred to me that you have two choices in dealing with it. You can dwell on what's gone before. Never let it go. Never move on and become bogged down in the the past. Or, alternatively, you move on, accept that change is good and find something new. The key to dealing with the mud was to move quickly through it. It's no different in life. Choose your path carefully, but move swiftly. Don't hang about and keep moving forward.

I stopped in the quietest bit of the forest and listened to the birds singing and the rain falling on last summer's fallen leaves. The sun barely illuminated the tops of the tallest trees. Time moves relentlessy onwards. Things change. People change. Seasons change. We all change. Its part of what makes life so good.

I was first played this track as a first year in University in 1990, by a flat mate who's name, I seem to remember, was Neil. As with a lot of people who go away for the first time, I arrived at my new residence a bit wet behind the ears. Neil, however, was cool. He had a guitar. He smoked Marlboro Lights. And he liked Galaxie 500.

Fourth of July is from the Album "This is Our Music", which was released in 1990. It's the first track, and I can still vividly remember the effect that the song had on me the first time I heard it. I was mesmerised. I'd never heard music like this before, although to be fair I wasn't exactly listening to cutting edge music at the time. Queen, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple formed the backbone of my music collection, so I guess it was going to be fairly likely that this music would sound a bit, well exotic, to the boy that I was at the time. I remember commenting to Neil that all the tracks sounded the same (they don't). He tugged on his cigarette, slowly blew out the smoke as was his way, then sagely replied "Exactly". I'm not sure what that exactly means, but hey, he was cool and I wasn't. So I took it as read that this was good.

I didn't know at the time that this would turn into one of my favourite albums of all time. But it has. It's an album I turn to at various times in my life. It's the sort of album that's the perfect match for episodes in my life where I've been melancholy. Not happy, not depressed, not angry, not upset. Just, well, a bit flat. As regular readers may have read, I'm feeling a bit melancholy at the moment and this track (well, the entire album) is taking a bit of a battering right now.

Galaxie 500 were a three piece who split in 1991 after releasing three albums, of which this one is the last. Their music stands out for itself, but their lyrics are also quite interesting. They range from somewhat bizarre, to tragicomic as is the case with Fourth of July. The song opens with this:

I wrote a poem on a dog biscuit
And even your dog refused to look at it

I was about to say something along the lines of well, we've all been there, but quite clearly we haven't, not literally. But I like the allegory. Later on, this line is trumped by my favourite:

I stayed at home on the Fourth of July
And I pulled the shades so I didn't have to see the sky
And I decided to have a bed in
But I forgot to invite anybody


Even if you've never heard the track before, you can guess it's not an uplifting type of song. On the other hand it's not depressing either. The music has almost dream like quality to it. The mood of the music neither lightens or darkens throughout the song, although the lyrics do hint at mood swings that aren't reflected by the flow of the song:

Maybe I should just change my style
But I feel alright when you smile


Looking back to my first thoughts about the song all those years ago, it's not the case that all the songs sound the same. Rather for me, the songs do share a certain enigmatic quality. Read into them as much or as little into them as you like. I'm sure it means something different every time I listen to it. And because of that, there's no way this song could ever sound the same way twice.

For me, as with a lot of people, Easter signals the end of Winter and the beginning of Summer. It's always a good time as you begin to think about your plans for the coming months, and start to pack away the warm winter clothes. Spring cleaning is often on the cards. Holidays are planned. The dark days of winter become a distant memory. The trees begin to bud, and the daffodils look beautiful. It's a time for hopes and dreams.

It's no different for me, as I look forward to the months ahead. I've got plans for the summer. Not only have I packed away some of my clothes, in a fit of enthusiastic spring cleaning I tossed about 4 bags of clothes out for recycling. I'm really pleased with the way I'm looking, and for the first time in a long time, it actually wasn't an unpleasant experience buying clothes the other week. There's still a lot more work to do, and I can't afford to rest on my laurels at the moment, tempting as it is. I'm really pleased I set my target. I'm not going to make it, but I've given it a damn good go. I'm so pleased with the really nice compliments that friends and family have given me. Each kind word has meant such a lot to me, more than I think anyone will possibly know. I've got a revised target in the back of my mind and I'm sure they'll be an update on this just after my birthday.

As well as looking after my health, I've got a new focus on looking after my wealth. Or rather addressing my lack of it. It's going to be a more frugal Summer, as I attempt to maintain the financial discipline of regular saving. There's a reason for this, as it's about time I started doing the things around the house that I'd like to sort out that I don't want to borrow to finance. This year the project is to sort out the garden. The target is to have a BBQ this summer and to be proud of the way my garden looks. At the moment, this looks a long way off, but with the help of a good friend who's given me some great ideas, I think I've got a plan to get things moving forward.

Health and wealth are important, but they are as nothing without happiness and this isn't one quite so easy to plan for. I'm fairly sure that if I stick to my recipe then it's a good start. But it's fair to say that right at this moment I'm neither here nor there. Neither happy nor sad. But both. Neither contented nor frustrated. But both. I'm in the in between place. But it's a good place to be. Let me try to explain.

How is it I can be happy and sad at the same time? I've been asking myself the same question and no matter which way I look at it, that's exactly how I feel. It's difficult to put into words without saying things here that should be kept to myself. But I'm feeling sad at losing a friend who's going away. I'm feeling sad as I think about things that might have been but never were. I'm feeling sad that my time ran out even before it began. And I'm sad because there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

But I'm happy even as I write about the sadness. I've had this feeling for the last few weeks, but I've been unable to work out what it is that made me feel so positive and happy about it all. And strange as it might sound, it's that sadness that's the source of the happiness I now feel. I'm sad because I'm mourning the loss of something I never really had - a mere possibility. But it's that possibility that has awoken something in me. It's lead me to have feelings that have long since been buried.

It's interesting that when I wrote about knowing what I want in a previous blog entry, I still didn't see it then that I was still missing something. I think I understand it now. Even though I've known what I want, I've never really allowed myself to believe that I could have it. Looking back now, it seems obvious but I wasn't aware of it. It seems that the pain of the past really did cast a longer shadow than I thought. But now, as I look back over the last few weeks I can see that the feelings that I've had, however misplaced, have been free of that shadow. And that makes me happy. Happy to look to the future. Happy to be liberated from the past. Happy to be looking forward to being happy.

And I'm happy too for my friend. I hope she finds all she's looking for as well as we continue on our own journeys through life. It seems like we've both got things to look forward to. Spring has sprung. Winter is over. Summer will soon be here. And I can't wait for it to arrive.

Its been one of the strangest weekends I'd had for quite a while. A weekend of drinking and debauchery, a weekend of loving and laughing, a weekend when I'd surprised myself with the sizes of clothes I could buy in the shops, but also a weekend when I'd fallen off the wagon quite spectacularly. And yet it had also been filled with a tinge of sadness that for the life of me I really didn't need right now.

So it was no surprise that, for the first time in the three times that I'd seen her this year, I was quite taken by the other side of her performance - the songs of sadness, anger, lust and of longing. It's quite apparent that this girl lives life as it's meant to be lived. She writes it as she feels it. And does she feel it. I listened to the words a bit more this time around. And although they're never going to win any prizes for poetry, like the music, the honesty and simplicity of them says much more to me about her than any clever words could.

"Drive away my heart" is such an incredibly personal song for her, written seemingly when she was at her lowest ebb, feeling lonely and unloved. She writes about someone she falls in love with at the time who stole her heart. In "Queen of the World" she sings that she's "free this month, lonely this year, lonely for ever". It's a fantastically worked song, quite reminiscent of some of the Smiths best moments with Marr-esque guitar playing. It plays that brilliant trick of being simulataneously hopeless but hopeful. If you don't believe me, then listen for yourself

The real joy of her music is that its almost a documentary of her life. You see her happy. You see her sexy. And you see her sad. I was glad I'd come with my friend who "discovered" Ida before me. She'd not been to see her before. Not for want of trying though. We'd talked about which of the three we should go to together. It wasn't this one, and I certainly didn't think I'd see all three. But it's a funny old world. Some things are just meant to be.

As we began to make our way out, I asked my friend what she thought. After some thought, she glanced back at the stage before delivering her verdict.

"Fuck Girls Aloud", she said, "She's a real role model for women".

Quite.

What happens when you take the angst ridden mincing of Chris Martin, add a dash of Marti Pellow's inane grinning, paint it all on the face of Toby Anstis and project it on a huge screen? For me the end result was pure comedy as I laughed at Tom Smith's theatrics through the first few songs of Editor's set last night. I've got to say in his defence it wasn't his fault that where I was stood, I couldn't see much of the stage, so I was compelled to watch the big screens. But, this being the 4th time I've seen the band, this was the closest look I'd given him. I wish I hadn't.

The first time I saw Editors was in Brixton a year or two ago. I remember I'd heard that they'd built up quite a reputation as a live act. They'd released their first album "The Back Room", but I purposely hadn't bought it before I saw them. And I've got to say I loved the gig. So much I remember commenting at the time that they were "my new favourite band". I bought the album the next day, put it on and loved it. But, as with so many albums that I love the first time I listen to them, I thought that the instant accessibility of the music is traded for longevity. So much so, I rarely listen to it much at all these days. I haven't bought the second album either, which does have plenty of catchy tunes on it, but is pretty much the same sort of thing.

Why have I seen them four times you may well ask? The second time I saw them was at V, and I remember I enjoyed it, but not quite so much. I'm wasn't sure why, so I saw them again at Glastonbury. I don't think the experience was any better, as I have no clear recollection of seeing them at all there. But there might be other (cough) reasons for that. And last night I hadn't planned to go, but there was a spare ticket, so being a sucker for the live music experience I went along.

Half way though the gig, I decided I could no longer take looking at Tom's effete performance on the big screen, so I moved over to the side but a lot nearer the front of the stage. This was much better as I no longer had to look at the big screen. I don't really appreciate big gigs much, so I'm not a fan of watching a big screen at all; the new viewing position was much better, and I think I appreciated the band much more.

That's not to say that I've changed my mind about them though. I don't think I'd pay to see them again if I'm being honest. And it's not because they're a bad band. They do what they do really well. Tom's vocals are absolutely phenomenal, and the screaming guitar playing of Chris Urbanowicz marks the band's now unique sound. The songs are all (apart from the dreaded ballad) well written, all of them catchy. The thing is, they're all of them pop songs. And that's at the heart of the matter for me.

When I first heard the band play, the distinctive sound was moody, dark and brooding. The lyrics that I caught seemed to have something to say. But the problem is that they don't have much to say at all. One of the guys described the resulting sound as "Joy Division Light". I'm sure the phrase wasn't his invention, but you can well understand it. Editors write songs about pain and loss almost voyeuristically. I don't feel connected to their songs, largely because they don't either. They don't feel the pain or the anger. They just write about it. Joy Division didn't simply reflect these emotions, they lived them. And there's a huge gulf between these two bands.

It's sometimes not easy to listen to Joy Division, but it's never a chore to listen to Editors. Take your pick. Which band matters most? Editors I'm sure will continue to entertain with their unique sounding niche of indie/rock/pop/what have you. I'm sure I'll put their album on again once in a while. It will probably cheer me up as I tap my feet to the tunes. But their music won't ever touch my heart the way I'd hoped it would when I first heard them.

Welcome to the first entry of my blog written "on tour". It's actually been written at my parent's home in Norfolk. Even this is a bit strange, as there's a distinct possibility that they will read this entry while I'm still here. Better not be too controversial then I guess.

It's been a good couple of days away from London. I've been able to go on a couple of nice walks (neither of them anywhere near Epping which makes a change). They've been great and it was good to go out with Mum and Dad. I'm glad I've had chance to not be at home for a little while. It's given me some time to reflect on what's been (or not been) happening in my life in the last few weeks.

As every day goes on, I do feel my sense of direction get stronger and I feel that I'm growing in confidence as I start to take control much more of what I want to do and where I want to be. In some cases, this has meant some changes. Some of them are more noticeable than others. Who could have missed the facial fuzz, my comic attempts to deal with my lengthening hair, and the fact that some of my clothes just don't seem to fit quite as well as they once did? Hassan, the proprietor of my local 24 hour shop, bless him, actually didn't recognise me, and when he did felt sure I was ill. Thanks, mate. I'm fine. Better than ever.

Others have been less visible, but nonetheless important. I've been thinking about the person that I am, and if I am happy in my own skin. Now, obviously, I've made some changes on the outside, but what about the inside? Could I make some changes there?

That's a difficult subject. I'm not going to be so stupid and arrogant to say that improvements couldn't be made (which is ironic, as I would say that I'd like to be less arrogant at times). But, I'd like to think that I'm seen as a fairly decent, nice, honest kind of chap. And that's really important to me. I'm a great believer in that great maxim of "do unto others as you would have them do unto you". As a moral compass I think it's a great guide, and I try and follow it as much as I can.

What bothers me about living this way is that it's got an obvious flaw. Not everyone sticks to it. Life is a balancing act between the conflicting needs of self interests and supporting the interests of others. If you strongly favour the former, you find that you might be staggeringly successful, but you find you don't have any friends, and your quality of life is diminished. If it's the latter you favour, you find yourself constantly helping other people to achieve their goals, but neglect your own in preference to theirs, and your quality of life is also diminished. Finding the right balance between the two, and knowing when to favour one side over the other is the key to finding happiness from within. I think. I also think it's very hard to achieve.

I've been wondering over the past few days if I favour one side too much over the other. It's a difficult one. I think I probably do. And a lot of the time it doesn't do me any favours. Life is a competition, especially in matters of the heart. Would I be better off looking after my own self interest at the expense of others? Should I say things that other people want to hear just so I can get what I want? Should I pretend to be a person that I'm not? I know an awful lot of people do. And more often than not, they on the face of it have greater success than I.

But what would I truly achieve if I made an effort to change in this way? In effect, to become more selfish. What sort of person would I become? Would it be a good strategy for me? I honestly don't think so. To do this, I would have to become, even in a small way, more cynical, more calculating and a less honest person than I am now. It's not something I'm prepared to do.

How can I truly expect to find someone who's decent and honest who respects me if I can't offer them the same in the first place? If that makes me too nice, then so be it. I don't think that I'm ever going to change that - nor would I want to. I know it means that I'm going to find it more difficult to find the right person. But I'm still sure that it's the right thing to do.

There are up sides to all of this, however. I've got 35 years of practice of being me and knowing what I'm looking for. It's not often that I meet someone who I know I really like, but I'm damn sure about it when I do. I'm even mature enough to express it these days when given the opportunity. And you won't catch me messing about when I find that person either. I might not always be successful, but I know I'm not going to compromise now. Not a chance. That would be a change too far.