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.

As the champagne trickled down my face and into my mouth, I casually wondered if I'd failed in my promise to lay of the drink for Lent. I quickly forgot that thought as I bounded back skywards, my fist punching the air with a big grin on my face. I wasn't the only one. The place was going crazy. It seems that this is just a typical night with Imperial Leisure.

I've seen them before some months ago. It was at Madame Jo Jo's. I can't lie about the night. I was drunk. Pissed. Hammered. I remember the hangover almost as much as the night itself. I think we'd gone to see a band called Union of Knives. But it was Imperial Leisure who were on after that I remembered most. I'd never heard of them before. But I certainly never forgot them. Loads of guys packed on to a tiny stage going mental. Driving the crowd mental. And we all danced and sang and drank and fell about laughing it was so good.

But I had a sneaky suspicion that the lagers had chemically enhanced the experience somewhat. Surely the weren't that good? The two mates who were with me that night certainly seem to remember they were good. But you just never know. So this was going to be a test to see how good they really are. As usual, 2 tickets were bought, but my pal couldn't make it. I couldn't persuade anybody to go with me, so I was going on my own. And I really didn't fancy it. I was tired and I had to hang around in work for quite a while. I very nearly went home.

So I arrived tired, irritable and unenthusiastic. And I was going to stay sober. Nice. I bought a drink, then found a nice spot right in front of the stage while one of the supports, The Bookhouse Boys, finished their set. They were pretty good I thought. Nice shoes as well. I had a little sway to them. I wouldn't call it a dance though. I was far too grumpy for that.

Imperial Leisure came on, and because this time I wasn't sozzled, I counted them. My memory of how many there were on stage on that drunken night was a little hazy. My calculation was anywhere between 25 and 90. There are in fact 10 of them. They're all friends from North London. There's a brass section, a DJ, guitar, bass, keyboards, bass, 2 MC's and a singer. They play a mix of hip hop, ska, and rock. But that doesn't quite capture the sheer infectiousness of the band. The energy. Boundless energy.

I moved a bit more for their first song. My arms started to swing during the second. My feet were moving by the third. I leapt in the air for the fourth. I was having a full on party by the end. In between, I'd been grabbed by the lapels by the singer, ducked out of the way of a enthusiastic trombone player and been showered with champagne. And the quality of the songs all through was fantastic. All of them without exception are sing along classics. "Landlords Daughter", "The beast" "Man on the Street", and their new single "In a letter" all stand testament to their sense of fun. And just to cap it all some superb lyrics if you can catch them.

Quite why I struggle to find people to go with me leaves me at a loss. Just listen to their recorded material. Then imagine seeing them do it live about 2 inches from your face. And think how much fun it would be. It's ten times more fun than that. I certainly am not going to worry about going to see them on my own again. I'll tell people how good they are. I'll tell them what they're missing. It's the best I can do. But if I can't make the case for them, I'll simply go see them again and let them state their own case on stage. Loud and clear. Right where they belong.

I saw a girl at the bus stop who'd been there. I'd seen her jumping up and down. I'd seen her laughing, shouting, singing. She was still smiling waiting for her bus. That says it all really.

http://www.myspace.com/imperialleisure

Finally the days are beginning to lengthen and after my misadventures with Waltham Forest Borough Council, I decided that this week's walk was going to not involve anything to do with London and it was therefore time to start to venture out further afield. Being the adventurous type, I unfurled the map across the campaign table at roblog HQ, and aimed for the furthest place I could get to. After I had overslept. Again.

After a quick calculation, I determined that I could probably walk for 5 hours and as the sun set at 17.30 and it was then 11.30, the furthest I could really get to was Essex. Or Kent. I thought about that for a while then decided that although I was going to be charged 2 quid to go to Kent across the Dartford crossing, I actually fancied feeling the Kentish mud beneath my feet. it had been a while.

So, after a quick flick throught the book of Kent Walks (I don't have one for Essex, making more of a case for Kent) I decided upon a walk around Penshurst. It looked quite a nice one, as not only did it look like it was going to a good route, but also I could revisit places that I hadn't been to for a while, such as Hever, Chiddingstone and of course Penshurst itself. It was a 12 mile walk, so a little shorter than my usual, but it was good to get out of London and walk somewhere new. Well... newish.

I got there in about the hour I'd figured it would take me, and I parked up in the village centre. It's amazing how much a whopping great parking fine makes you check and double check, so I made sure there was no possibilty I was going to get my car towed this week. I must have looked like a right old London tosser checking for parking restrictions in a village with 9 or 10 (rather lovely) houses. Once I'd convinced myself that all was well, I then set off on the stroll around some beautiful Kent countryside.

It's a nice route, taking in 2 or 3 crossings of the River Eden. The area is rich with historical connections, as Hever Castle is the seat of the Bullen family and it is there, so the story goes, that Henry VIII fell in love with Anne Bullen, or Boleyn, which of course lead to the establishment of the Church of England and also to Anne's untimely death on the scaffold. Chiddingstone, is also delightful, with it's beautiful old houses and it's stunning church. The scenery was superb and I was so happy to see some snowdrops on the way.

As I walked, I couldn't help but notice a feeling that I find difficult to put into words. The nearest I can put it is that I had an incredible sense of feeling "at home". I'm not sure where it came from, but I'm guessing that growing up in Kent has left me all these years later with the feeling that it's still home. Funny enough, I've lived in London for 13 years now, which is the longest I've lived anywhere. But I still don't think I've put roots down here. I'm not sure I will. But I suppose I've not really given it time anyway. Up until I bought my house, I'd moved on average about once a year, managing to live in Ealing, Shepherds Bush, Ealing again, Marylebone, Belsize Park, Camden, Golders Green, Winchmore Hill and finally here in East Ham. It's not bad here, and I do grow more fond of it day by day, but I can't see myself staying here. Although given my capacity for laziness you never know. But as I've said in a
previous post, London is a varied city. So, although there are common aspects about living here that are shared, each place really is different.

So it seems that I've got a long way to go to match my nearly 20 years I spent in Margate and Ramsgate in my home county of Kent. And naturally, throughout the years, I came to see a fair bit of the places in and around the county. There are many beautiful places in Kent spread right across the county. Many of them have real significance for me as I grew up to become the man I am today. I've got so many pleasurable memories of happy family days out, or Sunday afternoon walks with my dad and family holidays at my grandparents.

I'm coming to realise that deep down that such things are important to me. I'll readily admit I'm a sentimental person, but I don't think that's such a bad thing. It's nice to know your roots and more importantly, it's nice to be able to return to them once in a while. It doesn't mean that I want to live in the past. That would be foolish of course. In fact, I think the opposite is true as I think you are the sum of your experiences in life. Without new experiences, one cannot grow. But I think, for me at least, it's important to know where you are from, and who you are, and learn from past experiences.

So as I walked through Kent countryside, I decided I was well overdue to go for a walk with the old man. Arrangements will be made. I'm sure it won't be in Kent, but it's the Kent countryside that reminded me to do so. I'm off to Stanfords to get some ideas.

I don't often buy albums as soon as they're released, much less pre order them, but I did with this one. It's been 3 years since his last release "Body of Song", and it's not that I'm bored of any of his records, but its a case of I was sure that this one wasn't going to disappoint and it doesn't.

Bob Mould isn't exactly a household name, but in his 25 years of making music, he's had a tremendous influence on the music world. He came to prominence with the 80's Punk band Husker Du, who's influences still resonate in music past and present. He quit the band in 1987, and set off on his solo career, with two very raw albums Workbook and Black Sheets of Rain. He then formed a band, Sugar, with which he had a great deal of success most notably with the album "Copper Blue", before the band split and he returned to making solo music.

Since the Sugar years, Mould has diversified his life, running a club night in Washington DC (where he lives now) called Blowoff. He's even written wrestling scripts. But it's his music that he returns to over and over again. Most often loud and visceral, always thoughtful, melodic and most importantly often experimental. He has not been content to stick with the same sound, and this culminated in his album Modulate released in 2002, where he experimented (i think fairly unsuccessfully as it happens) with dance beats.

At 47, this is his 7th solo album, and I think it's one of his best. It's an album borne of his life in DC over the last 5 years, the ups and downs, and reflecting on growing older. This doesn't make it any less a Bob Mould album than any other, as it still has the essential ingredients that has made his work so good over the years; great song writing, thoughtful lyrics, loud guitars and his very unique voice.

As always, he writes about loves and losses in his life, and on this album, "Again and Again" tells the story of another "ugly fall from grace" in his words. It tells a story much like his song "Moving Trucks" on his album "The Last Dog and Pony Show", and as a song for me it's as good if not better than this favourite of mine.

The single off the album "The Silence Between Us" is quite the opposite, even though the title seems to promise a similar story. It's a song of love and of time spent together. A beautiful song and a fantastically catchy tune.

The silence between us is the time when
I can hear the thoughts on your mind

But it's also a reflection of his place in the world, and his growing feeling of finding himself and being comfortable with where and who he is. In "Old Highs, New Lows", he reflects on this new calmness in accepting all that life throws at him good and bad. And then just for good measure in "Return to Dust", he gives us this little gem as if to underline the point.

Growing old, it's hard to be the angry young man.
Turn away. Turn and walk away.

This is an album of great depth and breadth, a real return to form. Having been a fan of his work for years myself, I'm glad to find he's finding his peace but not losing his edge. I hope there's a lot more to come in the next 25 years.

RING RING
Come on. Answer the phone you bastards
RING RING
Bastards
RING RING
Bloody office should still be open
RING RING
CAN ANYONE GET ME AN OPERATOR PLEASE?

Thus began the most annoying, most expensive, most frustrating trip to a gig I can think of. It had started so well. I'd had a nice relaxing morning, perhaps a little too relaxed, as I left a little too late for my walk. I usually walk from my house and get public transport back, but London transport seems to do it's best to put you in to a car at the weekend, as for the second time running the central line was down from Leytonstone to Stratford. So for the second week in a row I parked up in Leytonstone and walked from there.

It was a beautiful day again in the forest. But I was running late, so I pretty much had to leg it through, all the time calculating how I was going to get to Wimbledon for the gig. The plan was to get there by about 8, and I'd planned to drive and pick up a pal on the way. I was probably getting to Epping station by 4.30, getting to Leytonstone at 5.00, home by 5.30, eat and shower and out by 6.30.

Everything was going to plan I arrived at Leytonstone station bang on time. Only my car was missing. It didn't take me long to realise what had happened. I'd inadvertently parked it in a disabled bay. I didn't mean to. I had no idea I had until I got back. It didn't matter. The car had been towed.

I got hold of the number and dialled it and waited. And waited and waited. Eventually some nice chap answered. He was talking to someone in his office at the same time as me. He eventually found the time to confirm my car had been told then told me it would cost 250 quid to get it back. From Edmonton. Nice. Very nice. Did I mention that they're bastards?

Anyhow. I got a taxi back then just had time for a shower and then with nothing to eat headed for the tube again to get to Wimbledon. I did in fact get there for eight, so it wasn't a total disaster. We had to wait half hour for the band to come on, so retreated to the bar, which was strictly patrolled by bouncers. No drinks allowed outside into the youth club, I mean, venue.

Yes, it was one of those "young" gigs. There were a few brave souls there over the age of 25, but I think maybe 3 or 4 over 30. The rest, well shall we say were probably escaping their homework for the evening. Not that there's anything wrong with that, because us oldies weren't only the odd ones out on the floor, but also on the stage, as this band is young. They age between 17 and 20 and quite honestly they look it, just to make me feel middle aged. They're from Gold Coast in Queensland, and have been together as a band a couple of years. They're a five piece consisting of Amandah on vocals and guitar, a keyboardist, violin, bass and drums.

The first thing you notice about the band is Amandah's amazing voice. Powerful, strong, and a good range. As with a lot of female vocalists, the maturity of her voice belies her age. And she also looks the part. She reminded me of Beth Ditto as the band launched into their first song "Get what you want", which is a stunning song to announce the bands arrival. A real showcase.

They've been doing rather well in their native Australia, having been nominated for a couple of Arias, and played the Big Day Out festivals. So it must have been a bit odd for them to find themselves in this small venue in Wimbledon in the middle of Winter having just left the summer sun at home. The crowd was small and actually quite conservative. I'm not sure Watershed's the greatest of places to see a band though. XFM obviously think so, as it was them that hosted it, but I was seriously unimpressed with the sound. It was far too compressed, and it meant that the band really had to struggle to get over their infectious energy. In particular, the rather delightful violin playing by Taylor was often drowned out by the rest of the band.

The sound problems unfortunately meant that so much of the character had been lost when they played their single "Leave it Alone". Not a problem as the perfomance of "Just a song about Ping Pong" made up for it. It's a song so corny and I don't mean that in a bad way. But not many bands could make it that much fun. Well done to them. They finished with "Zero Zero", which I'd not heard, but it was a cracking little finale.

I've got a feeling we'll here a lot more from this band of energetic Australian yoofs. They're booked for Leeds and Reading festivals. And I think its in the summer sun (or rain as the case may be) that they'll make it. Something wasn't quite right tonight though. Maybe they missed the outdoors. Maybe they missed the sun. Or maybe they missed home. I don't know, but the gig never really came to life as much as I'd hoped.

I wish them all the best though. I hope to catch them this summer with a beer in my hand catching some rays. Just how they're meant to be heard.

Now back to reality. Anyone seen my chequebook?

I don't think I enjoyed the gig on Thursday. But my review was slightly misleading. I had in fact seen Justice before. They were at Field Day last summer. Now, that might have been the case and I can confirm I was there. But I don't remember seeing them at all. Largely because:

a) The organisation there was so poor that they hadn't laid on enough bars. Hence I ordered 8 beers when I got served (like everyone else). I didn't intend to drink most of them, but I think I did. That's not my fault is it? I couldn't give them away and they bloody well weren't going to drink themselves.
b) The sound was so poor that you really couldn't hear much yards from the stage. This was of course exacerbated by the fact I was slightly squiffy and probably on the floor at the time, due to (a). I also cannot remember if I actually was on the floor, also due to (a)
c) Justice are very dull, so I can't be blamed for forgetting I had seen them. I bet they played that song over and over again though.

But one thing I am annoyed about is that I didn't see Late of the Pier who were supporting. Knowing me, someone will probably tell me I've seen them before as well. Oh well, at least if I keep blogging who I've seen I'm not going to forget again.

Ah. Valentine's day. A day to look forward to. Love is in the air. And according to my free lifestyle magazine "The Newham Mag" that the council sends me in return for my council tax, a day to romance your loved one. In Newham. Seriously. They had an article on it, which was unsurprisingly small. Much as I'd have loved to take up their top tips, I had a few problems:

a) Who in their right mind would want to romance their loved one in Newham?
b) Why wait till Valentine's day to romance your loved one? and;
c) I, er, don't have a loved one to romance in the first place.

Obviously Newham was out of the question. I had plans anyway. I was going to see a free gig at the 100 Club, where Bombay Bicycle Club were playing. Now, lack of a loved one not withstanding, I was looking a bit short of mates to go there with, so I was facing up to the possibility of being out on my own on one of the crappest nights to do so on. I might be pretty cynical about the Valentine's malarkey, but having said that, the west end is full of snogging couples on the night, and at the very least it can put you off your diet coke and at the worst send you off on the kind of voyage into introspection that I've been carefully avoiding for the last few months (well, apart from in my blog, but that's a different story).

It was therefore perfect timing when I got a call from a friend in the afternoon to ask me what I was up to that evening. So, obviously there was no need to ask him whether he'd got back together with that bird he'd been chasing. I optimistically asked him if he fancied going to the 100 club, but it turned out he had tickets to Justice, going along with another couple of losers without a date other mates. Sure. What the hell. Never heard of them though. He told me they sounded like Daft Punk. Can't be that bad then I suppose if they're similar to them.

It turns out the only similarity with Daft Punk is that they're also French. But I don't think I remember Daft Punk being as predictable and, frankly uninteresting as Justice were. We arrived just in time to see the whole set. Which at the time seemed like a good thing. Bizarrely we were told that we could only put bags in the cloakroom on accounts that we'd "arrived late". "Sure thing, mate", I replied, " It's got nothing at all to do with the fact you've not got enough capacity to handle people coming through the doors all wearing coats in mid winter". This didn't appear to go down too well, so we disappeared into the venue.

It was indeed full when we got in, and the band were just coming on as we'd arrived. I say band, but they're actually 2 guys. And they just bob up and down like "live" electronic acts do. Not especially interesting. Thats why Orbital and the Chemicals put on lights for you to look at. These guys managed to put an illuminated Cross on the front of the stage, and after that the lighting was at best described as minimal. One of my mates said it was so bad it was a hair's breadth away from those traffic light mobile disco lights. And he was pretty spot on.

Justice, (well actually Justice vs Simian) are best known for "We are your friends", which to be fair is a stonking tune. A fantastic electro masterpiece loved by many. And boy did they milk it. Over and over again. We heard that damn line throughout, and the kids lapped it up every time. It's a pity that the quality of the music in that track wasn't really reflected thoroughout. The sound they play (if they do actually play - what the hell do they do behind the desk?) I'd describe as big beat. Very loud. Very unsubtle. And very dull after a while.

Initially it was all pretty good, but it didn't really progress. Just the same sounds, the same beats and the same samples played in a different order. And that bloody "We are your friends" chucked in for good measure to remind us all who they were. I think it's fair to say that they played to their audience who would have been pleased if they'd have just put their album on and sat around on deckchairs for an hour. They went wild over an electric guitar sample for goodness sake. It wasn't even a good one. And then they played "We are your friends" over it. Again.

I'm glad it ended when it did. We all were to be honest. We couldn't help it though. That tune is so catchy we ended up singing it as we left. We made a few slight adjustments to it though.

"We've... got.... one song.
It.... goes... on and on."

Repeat. For ever. You get the picture.

It had been less than a week since I'd seen Ida at the 229. She'd been so good then I'd got tickets for this gig the same night, which was fortunate as, unlike the 229 gig, this one looked like a sellout.

The Borderline is a fantastic venue for someone like Ida. It's small, and gloriously sweaty and cramped. It creates a fantastic atmosphere and it was a treat to be there. I'd gone along with a friend this time, and it was a real surprise that we bumped into another one of our mates there who had gone by himself. So the three of us went down the stairs to wait for the band to come on.

I looked around, and I remembered a few faces from the previous Thursday. I wondered if they recognised me (and I hope they noticed that I actually had some friends!). We managed to find a spot right in front of the stage, and thankfully without the confounded pillar in the way, although we had to split up as space really was limited. it wasn't a worry, as the band soon came on.

She was wearing the same hat, but this time she wore a rather funky green dress. And she looked good enough to eat. I think I'm already developing a teenage crush on the woman. It doesn't help that every song seemingly is about sex, as she delightedly informed us. I'm not sure the set was the same as the last time, but although it wasn't quite as loud, the sound was much better.

"Did you see us on Jools Holland?", Ida enquired. She giggled before answering her own question "We looked cool". And if they gave as good a performance as they did tonight, I'm sure they did. She then poured a bottle of water over her face, and swung round towards the audience, showering the ones closest to her with the water and her sweat. She looked the part as she launched into "I like you better when you naked" which once again was heaps of fun. But it was "Oh My God" once again that was the highlight. Unbelievably, it was better, more exciting, more passionate and so bloody good, I couldn't believe my own ears.

Thankfully, tonight the crowd managed to get her to come back for an encore. She sang "We're all going to hell", which is a beautiful number, and we all were encouraged to sing along as the music faded away. We all went to Heaven for a moment. Perfect.

Just as well I'm still in a good mood from the weekend, as tonight's result against Burnley would have been hard to take. Conceding four goals after taking a two goal lead was a bit of a changed performance from the game on Saturday against Southampton.

It certainly was an entertaining game. I thought both sides played attractive football. We certainly seemed to lose all sense of impetus when Rowly went off. I don't know why. And Burnley's first goal was unlucky for us I think. But what worried me was after their second, we really looked deflated. I said at the time that we looked like a team that was going to lose. The body language in the players certainly showed that (apart from Agyemang and Mahon maybe). I thought that Vine in particular was not at the races, especially compared with his performance on Saturday.

So it was unsurprising that we went behind. But what depressed me most was that we looked knackered 75 minutes into the game. A beaten side before we'd actually be beaten. It was back to the bad habits of the pitiful second half performances that have cost us so many points earlier in the season. Burnley worked hard to get back into the game I thought and they also worked hard after they drew level. They simply wanted it much more than us.

I notice that De Canio thinks complacency may have set in during the game.It certainly did amongst some of our fans. I even had a chuckle at the people cheering each pass after 20 minutes and singing "You might as well all go home". What we saw tonight was a Burnley team that was more committed, more focussed and worryingly so it seems fitter than ours. And I also thought that Cole and Akinbaye were also a fantastic pairing up front. I thought the their second goal was really well worked.

But - and a big but here - I don't think I can really criticise individual performances. I thought that defensively we looked OK for long periods in the game. The only two criticisms are that the last two goals were indeed poorly defended, but I do think that was down to the malaise that had swept the team earlier. Mahon was putting himself about as did Leigertwood, but I'm not sure they work as a pair. Akos and Vine were perhaps not at their best, but for me Pat worked his socks off for the entire 90 minutes.

It's probably a game to put behind us, but not forgotten, as I think there are a huge amount of lessons to be learnt not only by the players and the management but by us as fans. We're not a world beating team yet. Not for a while at least. Just be patient.

It's been a good weekend. The sun has shined. QPR won away and I was there to see it. I've been for a lovely walk with a very good friend. And I'm in a frightfully good mood. It doesn't come much better than this I think.

It's good to feel good isn't it? I mean, the very nature of being means that it's not always possible to feel good all of the time no matter what's happening in your life. But when these times come by they are certainly to be treasured. Even writing this blog entry is a real pleasure. I'm listening to some fantastic music (The Brute Chorus and also Tom Hickox, and they're worth checking out) while I write it.

I started the year feeling good about myself, and although I didn't set myself a new year's resolution (I don't believe in them to be honest), I told my friends that I felt this year was going to be a good one for me. I've written about it before. And so far so good. I'm continuing to eat well and drink less. I'm losing weight. I've even grown a beard and I've received lots of lovely compliments about it (although to be fair, most people have been honest and not everyone thinks so). I think my mother will make or break it for me if the truth be told!

I've been thinking about why I'm feeling positive about me and about my life and my future. And I think it's quite a simple difference in my approach. I just feel a little bit more in control of my own destiny. I've got a plan. Well, several in fact. I'm not drifting, waiting for things to happen. Because they won't, not unless I make them happen.

I'm quite sure it's easy to over analyse one's life and life in general, but I do think it's really important to learn what makes you tick, what makes you laugh and what makes you cry. Without knowing this, then I think it's really difficult to know where you're going and that for me isn't a good place to be. For me, life isn't about material wealth, or success in business or career. It's not about driving the right car, or being seen at the right bar or about wearing the right clothes. It's not about accumulation of wealth. Or a bigger house. Or getting a high powered job.

I've realised that for me, it really is something as simple as this. The pursuit of happiness. And that's no easy challenge. Many intelligent and gifted people have tried to identify what makes us happy. They've all failed. We're far too complicated to come up with a recipe for happiness that suits everyone, so we need to know enough about ourselves to try and learn our own recipe. So here's my first attempt at mine:

1. Find some activities that you love and make sure you continue to do them in ways that you enjoy. Ignore the activities that you don't love where possible. Never ever stop looking for new activities that could add to your happiness.
2. Make sure that whatever it is that you do for a living, the most important part of it should be that it engages you and that you continue to learn and grow as you do that job. Move on whenever this isn't the case.
3. Make lots of friends. Take care of them and cherish them. Pick them up when they're down. Share as much of your time with them as you can. Encourage them to find their own recipe for happiness. Don't lose touch with them. Never be too proud to be the one who keeps the friendship going.
4. Smile as much as you can. Never ever forget the power of a smile. Remember what makes you smile, and try to do the things that make you smile. Try not to do the things that make you sigh and frown. Laugh whenever possible but never be afraid to cry.
5. Love and be loved. Love your family. Love your friends. Find the love of your life. Never be afraid to put your heart on the line for love. Don't be afraid of getting hurt, as those that love you will surely help you in times of need. Love yourself and remember if you don't love yourself, then no one else can.
6. Never stop learning. Don't close your mind to new ideas. Don't be afraid to change your opinions when you've been wrong in the past. Read as much as you can.
7. Look after yourself. You're ultimately the only person who can.
8. Don't ignore problems that prevent you from following any of these steps. They won't go away and will most likely get worse if neglected.
9. Above all, remember that this life isn't a rehearsal. Avoid regret at all costs. Regret is the cancer of happiness.

It's interesting as I wrote these down that I was thinking about so much of my life past present and future. Some things I've got right. Some things I haven't. I think it's easy to lose sight of simple things that keep us happy. We all get lost sometimes in the things that life throws in our way. But I do truly believe that if you follow simple principles in your life, then it really is possible for life to get better and better each day.

I hope I'm right. And I'm going to leave this weekend as a benchmark of where I want to be. I said at the start that it doesn't come much better than this. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't. But that's no reason to give up on trying to make it better every day.

Oh My God. This was very good.

I'd been looking forward to seeing her for some time, after being introduced to her music by a good friend of mine. Unfortunately she couldn't make it tonight, so I turned up tonight on my own to a venue that I wasn't particularly keen on. I'd been there once before to see Archie Bronson Outfit. It wasn't the most successful night as I'd turned up worse for wear with two friends in worse states. And we ended up getting there late, so we missed most of the gig. But I really didn't like the venue much, so I wasn't expecting a great place to get to see her. But, what I didn't know is that there are actually 2 venues there - one much more intimate than the other. Luckily this gig was in the smaller venue, which is lovely and compact with low ceilings, sofas and a relaxed friendly atmosphere.

I arrived just as the support band was starting. And the first thing I noticed as I walked past the stage was that it was loud. Ear damagingly loud. The poor barmaid couldn't actually understand a word anyone was saying and we all resorted to pointing. So, non alcoholic drink in hand, I focussed my attention to the support band, Cage The Elephant. I'd never heard of them or their music before. But I quickly took to them. I don't think I often refer to a band as "tight", but these guys really were fantastically well rehearsed. Hailing from Kentucky, the 5 piece play a sort of funky, blues influenced rock, and (I'm not good at this sort of stuff) they at times sounded a bit like the Black Crowes. But then again I haven't listened to the Crowes for years so the comparison might not be good. But I'd definitely see them again if I had the chance. I'm glad I saw their set.

It was a half hour wait for the main event. This gave me time to have a look around the room and see the people who were there. And it was a pretty interesting mix. Age range was about 18 - 60 which is pretty impressive. There was no obvious "type" of fan there. But there was the worlds most loved up couple there snogging the whole time they were there. And there was the smelly crusty who decided to stand next to me. And he reeked. But mostly people there seemed all up for a good time.

Ida and the band came on, and the first thing you noticed is her striking looks. She's got fantastic piercing eyes, and a brilliantly dramatic dress sense, coming on stage in hoopy tights, and a rather lovely looking hat. "This is my Wonka hat", she explained, "Or rather my wanker hat. Ha ha". Well, I think it looked pretty cool. The guitarist reminded me of John Lord out of Deep Purple such was the magnificence of his moustache. She's from Sweden or Norway. I'm not sure what the arrangement is there but she performs all the songs in English. Which is terrific news for me as I'm not particularly talented in Nordic languages (I didn't speak a word of Swedish other than "Takk" when I was in Stockholm).

Ida and the band have released only one single so far, but I'm familiar with a fair bit of the music from her MySpace page and various podcasts and radio plays. Her MySpace page describes her music as Indie/Punk/Rock, which I suppose just about covers it, but it doesn't prepare you for the energy and excitement she puts into the performance. It helps that the songs are all pretty good as well.

The set was short (about half hour) but of exceptional quality throughout. The obvious highlights were "Stella", "Oh My God", and "Better When You're Naked". The latter is something special - musically nothing out of the ordinary, but so much fun. It's now officially for me the most sexy song in the world. I never knew you could have so much fun singing along with the words of the song

"I like you so much better when you're naked
I like me so much better when you're naked"

over and over again.

She finished with "Oh My God", the stand out song from the set. To hear it live was truly breathtaking. That's why I've found tickets for her gig next week.

I think this is the third time I've seen Art Brut and I was wondering how come they've not had more success in their 5 years together as a band. Don't get me wrong - they're not doing bad, but with 2 really good albums to their name and what with them being a highly amusing and entertaining live act, it seems to me that all their hard work isn't producing the success that I really think they deserve. Especially since they seem to work so hard at what they do, with what looks like a punishing tour schedule.

We arrived just as the band had started, which was impeccable timing as we'd stayed in the pub watching the dull-fest that an England friendly is. But at least Nigel the landlord at The Stag laid on some food which is always gratefully received.

Whilst the band is pretty good, the live experience really is all about the singer Eddie Argos and his performance. I think in another age, he could be described as zany, and he certainly has a style all of his own. His vocal style is more rhythmic than melodic, as he tells stories of ex girlfriends, days in bed, fighting and what ever seems to be on his mind. The performances of the songs live don't actually differ much from their recordings, so there's not a lot really to say about them, other than the quality of the songs are fantastic, and each and every song is so much fun to listen to and watch the band.

I said at the start I'd seen the band 3 times. Would I see them again? You bet I would. Always a pleasure - and what's more they leave me each time with the biggest grin on my face. I hope they get the success that must come their way soon. They deserve it. They deserve to be Top of the Pops. Go see them whenever you can.

Art Brut - Top of the Pops

Last year I gave up eating meat (but not fish) for Lent. I found it quite a useful thing to do. I think it's nice to be disciplined once in a while. So I'm going to give up something else this year. Up until now, I've been fairly on and off about the drink, but since I'm only half way to my weight loss target, I thought it would be good for me to be alcohol free for the next 40 days.

Although my target is beginning to look like a real challenge now, I'm not giving up. I'm just going to up the stakes a bit now. And actually stick to my no booze thing. On accounts of it being Lent, which of course means I'll stick to it. Even though I'm not religious, that indoctrination as a child should keep me in check to make it for these next 5 or 6 weeks.

Piece of cake.

Well, obviously that's out as well. Dammit.

Ralph McTell is best known for his song "Streets of London", which had chart success and won him an Ivor Novello award. But there's a lot more to him than just one song, far more than I know about in fact. A singer/song writer of considerable talent, his styles vary from folk to blues, from love songs to psychedelia.

"Kew Gardens" can be described as a whimsical folk song, but that belies the sensitivity of the song, the performance and the lyrics. At the time it was written, McTell had never been to Kew, but the song was written after a friend of his visited and described it to him. It tells the story of of a shy man and woman as they spend a day in the gardens. I love the pattern and pace of the lyrics as he describes the pair as they spend their afternoon on a summers day. In particular I adore the words describing the moment the man sees the lady as she enjoys the pleasant surroundings of the gardens:

He saw her linger
And With her finger open up a rose,
Standing on tip toes

As the story continues, the rain starts to fall and they innocently spend some time together, chatting until the sun comes out once again, obviously enjoying one another's company and losing themselves in each other. And then they part, never to see each other again at the end of the day.

And one of the griffins cried

For me, this song really does really appeal to the romantic side of me. I love the thought of meeting the love of your life in such a way - but what I really like about the song is that although it's obviously a gloriously rose tinted view of love amongst the lily ponds and pagodas it's actually a story of love lost, or perhaps more poignantly love never found.

I first came across this song through buying my Dad a birthday present. He's always loved the song "Those Were the Days" by Mary Hopkin. which incidentally was produced by Paul McCartney and is the most well known of her songs. She recorded a number of Ralph McTell songs, and Kew Gardens was one of them.

I loved the CD I bought for my Dad so much, I bought a copy myself and I always loved "Kew Gardens" on it. And from this CD, I then decided to listen to more of Ralph McTell. It's a tough one deciding which version I like best. McTell's own version is by far the most interesting, as the arrangement of both the instrumentation and the vocals is much more varied and complex than Hopkin's. But for me, the purity and innocence of her voice and the simplicity of the recording compliments the innocence and simplicity of this rather sad tale. And I love it every time I hear it.

I've been playing video games for as long as I remember. I'm one of those mid thirties guys (and let's be honest we're mostly chaps, sorry girls) who've grown up with them. I've played on many different platforms. Arcade, ZX81, Spectrum, C64, Game and Watch, Atari 2600, Amiga, Dreamcast, Playstation, PC, PS2, N64 and Gamecube. Probably many many more.

There are so many favourite games that I've spent time (and certainly not wasted it) playing. Elite, Rome Total War, Elder Scrolls Oblivion, Kick Off, F/A 18 Interceptor, Battlezone, Soul Caliber, Pro Evo, Zelda, Way of the Exploding Fist, Yars Revenge, Impossible Mission, Frogger, Silent Service, Resident Evil, Ico, Mario, Mario Kart, Shadow of the Colossus, The Hobbit, Half Life 2, International Karate, Parappa the Rapper, Winter Games, Leaderboard, Boulder Dash, Worms, Stunt Car Racer, Gran Tourismo, Shenmue, Sonic, Soul Reaver, God Of War, Crazy Taxi, Grand Theft Auto. The list goes on and on.

But there's a common affliction that my 30 something gaming peers are suffering from. The lack of time to commit to our pastime. Where once there wasn't much to get in the way of playing your games, we now find our adult lives getting in the way. We've grown up and some of us now have families. We all have commitments. And other interests outside gaming. And we've got other financial priorities to worry about. Like, you know, paying the mortgage, saving money for holidays, saving money for pensions, paying bills. So many bills.

And what happens is that your list of games that you want to play just gets longer and longer.

2007 was a pretty good year for games. Edge magazine awarded three perfect tens, a total in a year that exceeds the total number given in the past years. Obviously I've got to play them.

The next generation of consoles has been with us for a year, and I've got none of them. Sitting under my alarmingly non widescreen, non HD, non flatscreen telly is a worryingly old looking PS2 and its pal the gamecube. Not a PS3, Wii or 360 to be seen. In fact my only relatively up to date gaming equipment is my beloved DS and my PC (which still needs an upgrade).

My list of unplayed games that I want to play is getting worryingly large:

Half Life 2 Episode 2 / Portal (aka Orange Box) - PC
Bioshock - PC
Zelda: Twilight Princess - Wii
God of War 2 - PS2
Okami - PS2
Rock Band - Multi
Super Mario Galaxy - Wii
Assasin's Creed - Multi
Medieval Total War 2 - PC

Somewhere I want to find the time to play these games. And for some of them I need new hardware. I want a Wii. And either a PS3 or 360. And a HD TV to go with it. It begs the question though. Is it worth my time and money to keep playing? Am I still getting the same kick out of games as I used to? Its a difficult one to answer.

In the end I think it's going to be the same thing that keeps me playing games that kept me playing all my life. It's that same thought that's kept me on the sofa. It's the same thought that as a consequence of playing God of War tonight, I'm writing this in the wee small hours, despite thinking I might write it at a much more reasonable hour of the day. What is it?

GAME OVER
"Just one more go...."

Right. Let's get this straight - I'm gong to go off piste with this entry. It's true I went to see King Creosote in Islington tonight. I'll even go so far as to say I enjoyed myself. But I'm not going to stick to the point. So bail out now while you still can.

Having just deleted the word 'So' as the start of a paragraph, on the grounds I feel I start too many sentences with this word, I feel I now I owe it to you to make it worth your while to keep reading. So I'll start at the beginning (and for the observant amongst you I did use the word 'So' there once more - I only promise to not use it at the start of a paragraph (and trust me that's hard enough). I only found out about this gig about 3 or 4 days ago. Little did I know that the tickets had been on sale for 2 or 3 months. So like a fool I asked if anyone wanted to go. Lucky enough one of my friends wanted to go, but as it turned out they couldn't make it. So I had a ticket if I wanted it. Which was cool.

I'm not good at getting up in the morning. I don't think that's ever going to change. On Tuesday I'd overslept a little so I turned up at work at 1pm. A little embarrasing even for me. But today I had to be in for a 9 o'clock meeting. So it was I turned up at 8.30. Not so early for most. But early enough for me. I took in a change of clothes just in case I went to the gig tonight, although I kind of suspected that I wouldn't go. I managed to stay at work till 7. By then I was so tired that I'd had enough. I phoned my friend to tell him I couldn't be bothered going on my own (he couldn't make it apparently). But it turned out he could make it after all. Which was a surprise.

We arrived at the venue at about 9pm. It turned out neither of us had been there before. Which was pretty amazing as we both go to a lot of gigs. As venues go it's just the right size and the sound was pretty good. We'd stationed ourselves in what he called the "'Gay Zone". This was in close proximity to the bar with the weird looking fan boys. Not sure they were gay, but it was close to the bar. So we stayed there. I'd not had a drink for a little while so it was good to have a few with a good mate. It was made all the more fun as he's from Fife as is King Creosote. Apparently, he plays on his Scottishness. But from my point of view don't they all?

I should say a few words about King Creosote. The band was good. He was good. His songs are good. He's good. It was good. But for some reason I didn't think the whole thing was good. Maybe I expected it was going to be better than the last time I saw him. But that's an unrealistic expactation. I think perhaps reflecting on it my original decision to go home tonight was what I really wanted to do and no matter what he did on stage tonight it wouldn't be good enough. That was probably it - as he was good. Very very good. But I still didn't feel the same about it all as I did the other times I'd seen him. Perhaps I want him to do another album? The truth of the matter is I don't know.

But as I left the venue tonight, what was apparent was that sometimes it's not the music but the company that you're with. I'd not seen my mate for a couple of months. I'm sure if he reads his he's say I was gay for saying it, but tonight was much more about friends than the music. Don't get me wrong - Kenny plays a pretty decent soundtrack to that - but it has to be said I was on my way home until he said he could make it. It's not that I don't go to gigs on my own, but tonight wasn't that night.

And then having had a really good night, I listenend to Handel's Solomon (or at least a third of it) on the way home. And it struck me how much I love this music. I'd love to sing again. It doesn't mean you have to believe any of the religious content. Far from it. As I walked home listening to the sheer magic of this music I remembered the men in the choir I was so proud to sing in in Ramsgate. I knew they weren't religious. But I couldn't understand why they wanted to come along. But tonight as I listened to the drama and excitement of this work, I finally undestood why they came. They loved the music. Quite why it's taken me this long to understand that I don't know. But tonight I had one of those Road to Damascus moments. It really doesn't matter if you believe in any of the religious content, but enjoy the music for what it is. I've no doubt that the vast majority of religious art (either audio or visual) was created by non believers - it simply was the practice at the time to find a rich patron who would write the expenditure off "to the glory of God" in the hope of saving his (and let's face it girls it was always a chap) rich arse. But that meant that that the Handels Mozarts and the Michelangelos of the world could express themselves.

And thank God for that.

Last week I and a few friends bade farewell to another one of our friends as he returned to the land of the long white cloud. We'd met up in Victoria station, which doesn't sound too glamourous I know, but trust me the bar in the Thistle Hotel in the station really is pretty good. Head and shoulders above any of the other pubs and bars in the immediate vicinity of the station. Highly recommended.

After some time, we retired to a local Lebanese restaurant, Noura where we enjoyed a fabulous meal and enjoyed each other's company. After we'd eaten, I leant back in my seat and reflected on my friends. We'd gone to the same school, and stayed friends ever since. I remarked at the time how impressed I was that I was sat in a fine restaurant with a talented author and photographer, a historian and a scientist.

The funny thing was I'd never really thought about them in those terms before. But as I thought about that, I felt both humbled and inspired that all three had followed their passions and interests thoroughout their lives and still pursue them as adults and I have no doubt will continue to do so for the rest of their days. I felt humbled as we talked about this, as one of them mentioned that it would be sad to go through your life and not leave anything behind to show you'd once lived. At the same time, in some small way I felt inspired to follow my own passions myself. I suppose this blog in a way is a step in the right direction, but I feel quite sure there's a whole creative side to me bubbling under the surface wanting to break out. It's never too late.

So here's to you chaps. Keep up the good work and keep doing what you love.

Regular readers of my blog if they haven't seen me lately might be wondering how I'm doing after my unexpected trip to hospital.

The answer is pretty good. On Friday, I thought I'd give myself a little work out, so seeing as the weather was good, I got up earlyish (for a day off) to do my usual route to Epping, but with the express aim of doing it quickly to see if I was feeling better. And I have to say it went pretty well, and I felt better than ever. The weather was great, I was in a great mood and the air smelt wonderful. And I was going at quite a pace that I think I got to Highams Park in record time, despite the mud, which makes walking fast a little problematic.

In fact, I practically skipped up a small incline, between the trees, such was my enthusiasm. Which was then tempered by the painful pinging of one of my muscles in my lower back. I don't know, you get one thing sorted and another thing goes wrong. But I thought it was better to carry on, which I did. But by the time I got to Epping station about 4 hours later, my back and legs were complaining.

The good news is that my chest felt fine though, which was what I set out to reassure myself of. So that was good. But it got better, as I was meeting up with the guys from work for a night out at a Greek restaurant. The meal wasn't bad, but I didn't much want to get involved with the slightly naff disco afterwards (it doesn't help when you're not drinking). Fortunately, the pain in my back prevented me from getting involved. What a shame.

After that, a few of us went to Langleys for Jon's birthday. Now admittedly I was sober and I did turn up at about 11.30, but boy that place is nasty. It actually smelt of sick. The service was poor, and even the glasses weren't clean. Absoultely disgusting. I will never set foot in that place again. Bad back or no bad back.

I'm beginning to think this was a mistake calling this track of the week....

Jam and Spoon were a influential German electronic act. They were Rolf Ellmer and Markus Löffel who was otherwise known as Mark Spoon. Spoon was also a DJ. They had a certain amount of mainstream success in the mid nineties with primarily their Album Tripomatic Fairytailes and the Singles Stella and Right in the Night.

The track Follow Me was a B-Side to "Right in the Night". For me, "Right in the Night" summed up a lot of what was bad about Euro dance/techno/whatever. But it did pretty well, despite its cheesiness.

Thankfully, Follow Me was something else. It's a track that sometimes doesn't know what it is. It starts with a fairly bit of generic sounding bit of Euro dance with the slighly annoying lyric being repeated, but once it gets going it settles down into a fairly stripped down techno track losing the chart friendly melody that could well have ruined it. At this point, it's more Detroit than Berlin, running at about 140bpm. About half way through, the techno sound dies to be replaced by some fairly expansive and lush chords as the sound turns a bit more ravey.

And then all hell breaks loose as the track then erupts in to (what for me at the time, I think 1994) the mother of all breakdowns. The tempo rises to about 180, and the sound once more descends into something else, a little more acidy (at this point I really should mention I really am hopeless at describing dance music genres), before dying away into the chords we heard first in the middle of the track.

When I hear this track it always takes me back to one night, myself and Rob ventured to the legendary Orbit @ The After Dark club in Morley near Leeds in probably about 1993. Mark Spoon was DJing that night. And the place absolutely rocked. We didn't have a car, so it was a bit of a mission getting there, so it was a bit of a one off, but made all the more memorable as it was at the time one of the best Techno venues in the world.

Tragically, Spoon died in 2006 of a heart attack aged 39. He's fondly remembered by a large number of people around the world, so for that one night in Morley and a lifetime of enjoying your music Mark, I thank you.

Well, I think it's time for the obligatory rant about PCs and technology from this Software Developer, Architect or whatever.

I've taken the week off with pretty much the only aim to get up to speed with a few bits and pieces that I don't have the chance to at work, such as .Net 3.5, Orcas, the MVP framework and all that good stuff. But I've been up against a brick wall of broken computers like you wouldn't believe.

First off I ran against problems with the Windows Update. I've got a dual boot XP/Vista machine. My Vista PC is a 64 Bit one, and I keep the XP one for games and anything that won't work on 64 Bit (such as my version of Nero). So I did both. I should have learnt never ever to download drivers from Microsoft. Apart from having all sorts of difficulties updating my XP machine (for some bizarre reasons the .Net Updates kept failing), one driver update totally trashed it and blue screened it on log on. It turns out it was the Soundblaster Driver I had updated. But this took some time to sort out. I needed this machine in order to burn the VS2008 disk I had downloaded so I had no option but to get this done.

So, once this was done I thought I'd do something crazy like backup my main data disk. It's about 150GB - Raid 1. But I thought it would be good to get an offline backup. So, I'm using Vista, and I'm sure I'd read somewhere that the backup for Vista was going to change my life. It did but what a pile of pony it is. I won't dwell on it but I think it's a real step backwards.

I left it running over night. And then my machine hung. Again. Now, in fairness it's been doing that for some time. So, as part of this job I thought I'd sort this little conundrum out. Again, and lots of experiments with PCI settings and burning a new BIOS. cutting a long story short, it turns out that the driver (isn't it always a flaming driver) was at fault. So off I went to the ASRock website and downloaded more drivers. And quite apart from vista constantly getting in my way, I thought I'd sort it out. But whatever I did I couldn't get it working satisfactory, so I eventually gave up and de-activated my RAID to do the backup (I thought this was wise - take a backup before re-establishing the mirror).

Oh, and this little chestnut managed to waste another hour.

The backup ended up taking nearly 7 hours. Rendering my machine fairly inoperable at the time. But the backup completed, and I'm guessing it's backed everything up - but I may well revert to robocopy, just to be sure it backs up everything.

The backup completed, so all I needed to do was to reinstall the driver software for my Raid device right? Yep. All looked good. So I was going to have a productive day today. So, I logged on, put some tunes on, and... and... "what the hell is that?". Every time I moved or scrolled a window, the sound juddered. I couldn't believe it. I'd managed to update my PC - backup my data and update my RAID drivers, and now my sound drivers were screwed. Never mind. Off to creative to update them.

It didn't work. It really sounded like there was some conflict going on, so off I went back to the BIOS and changed a lot of PCI/AGP settings. It didn't do much good. But I was glad I sorted out my XP build, as I confirmed that this wasn't having the same problem. So it wasn't a BIOS issue. So, maybe it was the graphics driver that was conflicting. So uninstall the RAID drivers. Unistall the Graphics drivers (which is harder than it sounds) and then off to NVidia for the lates Vista 64 Forceware update.

That then corrupted my graphics. I forgot about that. It always does. It seems to me that only the default Vista driver for the 7600GT works. Not even the NVidia or Microsoft updates work. So I put this back. And there was no judder on the sound. Good. Then I reinstalled the Chipset/RAID software from ASRock. The Judder returned.

This was getting irritating now. Luckily I had another option - I downloaded more drivers from VIA (it's a VIA chipset). But they wouldn't install. So back to uninstalling and installing everything in the right order - and - it worked...

So how long has this little exercise taken? 3 days. I repeat. 3 days. I really have no idea why its so difficult and I shudder to think what people not in the industry (or PC World employees for that matter, they're much the same thing) would have made of it.

But in the end - it's all down to drivers. Drivers are the root of all unstability in Windows. They always have been. Microsoft have gone to great lengths in XP SP2 and Vista to try and address this. But almost every problem I ran into was caused by drivers. If you've made it to the end of this article and you are a windows user the moral of the story is to be very careful when updating drivers. Make sure you know what you're doing (I didn't!). And make sure you're well backed up should it go wrong. And most importantly, only update them if you have to. And save yourself 3 days of pain.

I saw this on Amy's Blog. So I tried it..

RULES:
1. Put your MP3 player/ iPod on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" You say?
Higher than the Sun (Primal Scream)

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Helpless (Hilmar Orn Hilmarsson)

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Turquoise Hexagon Sun (Boards of Canada)

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Man on the Moon (Sugar)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
It's all too much (The Beatles)

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Cracker Jack (Ol Dirty Bastard)

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Bird Dream of the Olympus Mons (Pixies)

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Scared of Girls (Placebo)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Year 2000 Non Compliance (Mogwai)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Refuge (when it's cold outside) [John Legend]

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Staralfur (Sigur Ros)

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Lord Let it rain down on Me (Spiritualised)

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
One Man's Fear (Lo Fidelity All Stars)

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Everyone's a VIP to Someone (The Go! Team)

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Get Out of my House (The Streets)

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST??
Survival (Nightmares on Wax)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
God Only Knows (Beach Boys)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
You can't do it right (Deep Purple)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS?
Fresh Pair of Panties On (Snoop Dogg)

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Everybody's Stalking (Badly Drawn Boy)

It's not often you find yourself hooked up to a heart monitor, wearing an oxygen mask staring up at the lights in the resuscitation area in hospital. But that's where I found myself on Wednesday night, bewildered and somewhat concerned about my health. I don't want to end up there again. Well, not for a long while anyway.

I'll start at the beginning. I played in a Inter Regulatory Body football tournament a week ago last Wednesday. I played in goal as usual. It was a fantastic evening. The football was good and it gave me a chance to catch up with old friends. And we did pretty well. I think our team's average age must have been about 35, which meant we were probably lacking in a bit of youth over the other teams. But we got to the semi finals where we met the GMC. Oh how we wanted to beat them. Even though as a regulatory body the NMC is (we think) the biggest such body in the world, it always seems to me that we sometimes live in the shadow of them. So there was a bit of an edge to the match. So obviously it didn't help that we quickly conceded two tame goals. It was uphill from there, but there was some fight left in us. After conceding a third we got one back, and tried to force our way back into the game. But they caught us on the break. They fired a shot to my left which I dived for and got my fingers to, but unfortunately the ball went in.

But I'd hurt myself. I'd taken a hefty blow to my left hand side, and I remember feeling the judder of pain. But it's a man's game right? So I got up and carried on, and the score finished at 4-1. But the pain didn't go away. I put that down to either muscular damage or a cracked rib. Over the next few days it seemed to get worse. But the worrying thing was that it felt worse when I was walking. Then last wednesday, I walked my usual 10-15 minutes to the tube, and I was struggling for breath. And it didn't stop when I got on the tube. In fact, I only felt better after I'd been at work for a few minutes.

So it was with a certain sense of trepidation that I set off home that night, and I found the same thing. My chest felt painful, and I was struggling to breath again. It was scary on the tube, as for the first time I can remember I had to sit down. Standing wasn't an option. Anyway - I made it home eventually, and I thought about what to do. I was going to see the GP in the morning, but I checked the NHS direct website to see what they had to say about my symptoms.

The interaction went something like this:

"Chest Pain?" Yes.
"Breathing Difficulties?" Yes.
"Phone 999. Now. We mean it. Now."

Oh dear. That looked serious. I checked it again. Maybe I'd made a mistake.

I hadn't.

I didn't dial 999, but I got a taxi, and off I went to Newham General not knowing what to expect. I think the triage system favours people with my symptoms as I didn't wait long with the usual bunch of nutters you find at night in an A&E department. It didn't take me long to be hooked up to an ECG machine for initial assessment. It got worse when the nurse took more and more readings "just so the doctors can be sure". Oh. My. God. Shit shit shit. What was happening?

After about half hour, I found myself in the resuscitation area. This was beginning to look serious. I was wired up to the heart monitor. Constant observation. Then came the oxygen mask. I really thought this was looking bad at this stage. I talked to some nurses, and to a doctor. They took blood tests. Lots of them. And Chest X Rays. They prodded, listened and talked. And all the time I couldn't begin to imagine what was going on.

After what seemed a life time, the doctor spoke with me. She told me that she thought it was most likely damage to my rib cage. I asked her why I was struggling for breath though. She told me she didn't know. Then she went off to ask the medical registrar.

Bugger. The registrar? Basically she was unsure. After a long while she told me that she'd need to take some more tests, and they moved me from Resus to an area called Clinical Decision Unit. This was better, but it was an area for observation where they collect data to work out if you're ill enough to get admitted. So it was back to the ECG, and back to more blood tests.

And then at 6 in the morning, I was discharged. I was fine. They'd found nothing. My tests apparently were "unremarkable" apart from inverted T waves in AVF whatever that means. But the medical registrar was unconcerned. Thank God. The only thing that they had found was that my blood oxygen level was down, which at least confirmed my breathing difficulties and dizzy episodes. They told me to take it up with my GP.

So - it turns out that my problems were relatively benign. I'd most probably damaged my ribcage which was causing pain, which meant that my breathing was much shallower, causing me to try and breathe more adding to my chest pain. It also transpires I was catching a cold again, so my breathing capacity was much reduced. My GP also told me that rib injuries generally peak in terms of pain 7-10 days after they occur. Whether that's true or not I don't know, but at least I've got nothing to worry about.

Still, in a way it's been a bit of a blessing. I was told once more that my blood pressure is higher than it should be. The nurse in the CDU asked me about it, and I told her I kind of knew about it, but I'd not really done much about it. "Wise move", she muttered as she walked off. She's got a point though. It's about time I got on top of it. Which gives me all the more reason to lose the weight I'd set out to last year. If I need any more motivation than casting my mind back to being in the emergency ward then I don't know what else will persuade me.

At the turn of the year, I really thought it was going to be a good year for me. For a brief moment this January I thought perhaps not. But now - in a strange way I'm more convinced than ever. I'm now looking forward to the rest of the year more than ever.

This isn't really a review of the film as I don't think I'm up to writing a decent film review. What I can say about it though is that it's not often that I watch a film that is as good as the book it's based on. But I do think in this case it's true. It's beautifully shot, and is incredibly moving. The cinematography brings Afghanistan alive just as the prose in the book did before it. The soundtrack is superb. I whole heartedly recommend it.

As I was watching the credits - I was thinking about the comparative value of what I pay for. I paid nearly 12 quid to watch this movie. I paid 10 quid to watch the football yesterday. What was better value I thought? I came to the conclusion that this was a stupid question. They are so far apart in the way that I am entertained.

What appeals to me for the football is complex yet astonishingly simple. Theres a lot of different emotions that a fan will go through especially on a day like yesterday, especially as it was a long journey to an away match. Theres the anticipation, the banter, the excitement, and the chat about the game and past performances on the way up. The sounds and smells of a football match, and the excitement of walking in. The singing. The shouting. The cheering and the inevitable moaning. Then there's the long journey home. But what it really boils down to is spending time with your mates. And hopefully meeting new ones. And if there's some decent football to watch so much the better. And it's difficult to put a price on that. Whcih is why some people will pay a lot of money following their team I think.

The movie was a completely different experience. I'd spent the day with a friend, and after she left, I decided to go see the movie as I want to watch it and I thought rather than try and persuade someone to go with me (which I think is a little bit silly seeing as you're sat in the dark and you can't talk) I'd go and see it on my own. It was once again an emotional experience, far less a visceral one, but a much more engaging intellectual one. Not that I'm saying that this film is intellectual or high brow. My point is that film and football engage with very different parts of me, much as music does as well. Which means I think it's a rather pointless exercise comparing the value of one to the other.

Mind you I'd not hesitate in recommending "The Kite Runner" to anyone. I think I'd struggle to do the same for the Barnsley game next week.

As with a lot of people at the moment, I'm keeping it quite quiet after Christmas. I fancied reading a book when I went to bed the other night but I don't have one to read.

So does anyone have any suggestions? Let me know...

It's been an exciting week being a QPR fan. Just today we've signed 3 new players on permanent contracts, and all of them quality additions to the club. We know they'll be more. Add that to the quality loan signings we have, then the future really does begin to look good. To sum it all up, someone on a QPR mailing list said this:

Today has been like Christmas Day used to be when you were aged 8!.

It really is that good. You don't know whats going to happen next. If someone had said to me at the start of the season that we would be talked of as "the richest club in the world" I'd have said they were bonkers. But it's happened to our club, and we're all so excited about this signing or that signing, rumours of signings, new stadium, whether we can beat Chelsea in the cup. And what's more we've started to play decent football and win matches. Un bloody believable.

But and this is a big but, like other supporters of less fashionable clubs, we all have our reasons for being supporters. For me, I'm never ashamed to say I grew up following Arsenal, but not being from a football family, I never went to a game. My first real experience of watching football was after university when I started going to QPR. And what struck me most about the club was it's identity, and its real feeling of being a proper family club. There's been good times, but in my time there it's been mostly bad. But through it all there's always been that feeling of togetherness around the club and in the ground. I'm sure its a feeling common to a lot of football fans. And we're all scared that this essential part of our club is going to be lost.

And the sad thing is, I do believe it will be lost in the long run. Flavio Briatore, Bernie Ecclestone and Lakshmi Mittal are no fools. They're not in this for the love. They're not going to accept anything less than success. And I believe it will come at a price. And that price can be seen down the road at Chelsea. You see it every time you walk down a street in the country with Chelsea "fans" every where. You see it on the tube on match day with the fans in hats and scarves and flags and all the other paraphernalia of a glory hunting fan. And the more success we see the more we'll see this happen to us. Don't get me wrong. There are plenty of proper Chelsea fans out there. There always will be. But their voices, their identity, their place as the soul of the club has become diminished. And the club becomes villified. It happened to Man U before them. It's going to happen elsewhere in the future.

It doesn't have to happen to us. I don't believe for one moment that Liverpool football club will sell it's soul to the American Dollar. We have no need to lose our club to the seducing smell of our new owners money. Of course we want the investment. Of course we love Gigi De Canio, Bernie and Flavio (and Lakshmi as well now). Of course we want to do well. And win the league (beating Liverpool into second would be nice!). And play in Europe. And play stunning football every week. But we need as a club and fans to stick together and remember why we loved our club through the bad times (and even some good times).

So to all of us out there supporting our club today - let's all hope we can all be proud of the club we love today and fondly remember those days when we were sh*t. And then chuckle as we lift the European cup.

U R'sssss!

I've never seen the Pixies play live. Much to my regret I didn't get around to seeing them when they reformed the last time, especially when I hear how good they were. I think at the time I was being sniffy about not seeing bands that had reformed after splitting up. But if I didn't see them the first time around that hardly makes sense does it? Ho hum.

Anyway - on to the track in question. It's the last song from the second album Doolittle. It's a superb album and there really isn't a bad song on it. For a lot of people, the stand out song on the album has to be "Debaser" which is truly a fantastic song, but for me the highlight has to be "Gouge Away". This song always sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end when ever I hear it. It's the most distilled, stripped down piece of rock I have ever heard. For me, what makes it stand alone is the bass and the drums, played so well by Kim Deal and David Lovering. The sound is taut and on edge. When you add the discordant guitars and singing of Frank Black, the song truly becomes a unique sounding piece of music.

But the most interesting thing about it is that because the production of it is so special, it simply gets better and better the louder you listen to it. You really begin to feel the excitement and dynamism of the band. Power and control. It's because of this I auditioned my hifi on it last time I went shopping. I remember the poor assistant's pained expression as I put it up louder and louder. It's not that he didn't understand, I just don't think he liked the music. It takes some seriously good equipment to bring this song out perfectly. I once played this on my flat mates set up. He had the biggest bass bin imaginable. But it wasn't hifi (the bloke in the shop told him that at the time as I recall). When turned up to "11", it really really lost the plot. It was loud, but the whole emotion of the song was lost.

I'll audition hifi with it again. And then one day, I'll be able to live in a house where I can play this as loud as it's meant to be played.

I found myself in Lewisham the other day, and I caught the DLR to Stratford on my way home. Perhaps it was because I was in a really good mood, but as I sat on the train, I started musing on London and what a really quite fabulous place it is. It was the diversity of the place that really struck me as a one of the special things about the city. Take the DLR route that I took. Starting off from Lewisham, the train heads north through Deptford, then onto picturesque Greenwich. From then it travels up to the Isle of Dogs, and through the striking modernity of the architecture of the homes and offices there. As the train moves out from Canary Wharf, it heads in to Poplar, which is a proper slice of East End life still thriving in the shadow of Global commerce just as it always has. I nearly stopped off in Chrisp Street market to wander about, but I realised that was just an excuse to get some Pie and Mash. So I carried on up through Bow and on towards Stratford, where I saw the already impressive earth works for the Olympics. And finally I got off at Stratford itself, which is surely heading for great things as a result of those same Olympics.

As I went to catch my bus home, I bought a paper and I read this article. Basically it said that London for a number of reasons is the best city in the world.

And I found myself agreeing. I often joke that I'm not the most travelled person in the world as I let the world come to me here in London. And when I considered this that morning, I don't think it's that far from the truth. But it's not just the diversity of the people, but it's the sheer diversity of the places, the environments and the communities that strikes me. Just look at the list of places that a typical Londoner (ie me) has been to in the last few weeks.

East Ham
Chinatown
Islington
Shepherds Bush
Covent Carden
Woolwich
Richmond
South Bank
Crystal Palace
Epping Forest
Dalston
Hammersmith
Hoxton

You may know all of these places, or only some. But if you know any, have a think about them for a moment. And think about how different they all are to each other. Thats what I'm amazed about. All of this on my doorstep in a relatively small area. And it's not just the areas of London, it's also about the sheer number of things to do, the parks, the cafes, restaurants, pubs, clubs, sporting arenas, museums, galleries, shopping, and business. And all of them are world class. Its unbelievable that there's so much and all so accessible with a very flexible public transport system.

But we all have our gripes about London. Even if we don't live there. There's the crime, the traffic, the cost and even the little things like the crowds and the times when our tube is delayed. But I do really think it's a small price to pay to live in one of the greatest cities in the world.

So, is London truly the capital of the world? I don't know. I haven't visited nearly enough other cities to know. But I do know that when you sit down and think about it, it takes your breath away.

I've been thinking about doing a little thing once a week on a single track that I've been listening to during the previous week, why I like it and what (if anything) it means to me. It seems appropriate therefore to kick off with this one.

You may have heard about this one. Malcolm Middleton is one half of the much missed Arab Strap. His solo career is one that I have followed, and in many ways has overtaken my love of Arab Strap's Material. Anyway - he's decided to see if he can get the Christmas Number one to try and take back the slot for real music.

Taken from his last album, Malcolm says its actually a cheerful song (and for him I suppose it is). It's about, er, well in Malcolm's own words:

"I wrote ‘We’re All Going to Die’ to comfort someone, but I kind of failed. It is saying we’re all in the same boat. It’s going to happen to all of us, so we have to make sure that we do the best we can in our life, so that when we die that we can handle it."

Anyway - it's a splendid idea. Buy the single. Take back the charts.

http://www.wereallgoingtodie.co.uk/

I was going to write a little diatribe about what I can't stand about Christmas. On the grounds I can't stand all the nonsense and the commercialism. And the hassle. The tinsel. The secret santas. Piped Christmas Carols. Pissed office workers in Santa Hats. Slade. The endless supplies of bad food in the office. And the shopping. Especially the shopping. And..

...and then I had the strangest feeling. I realised despite all of this crap there really is a lot about the season that I love. For instance I'm not going to pretend to anyone that I love the shopping. I despise it. But oddly enough yesterday through the evil that is Christmas shopping, I spoke to my brother, my mum, my dad and my sister in law. All in one day. And the only other day that's likely to happen is on Christmas Day itself.

And between now and then, I'm going to have met up with, written to or emailed some wonderful friends in this country and around the world. Some I haven't seen for quite some time. Some of them are only in the UK for a short visit. And all because of Christmas.

I'm not a religious man. But there is something special about this time of year for most people. And I recall one year telling my Mum I'd want to spend it at home on my own having a quiet one. This year? Despite my grumblings, moans and general grouchiness (or even Grinchiness) I think I wouldn't have it any other way than what I'm doing this year. I think it's good to remember how lucky we are to have loving friends and family around us.

Then again, all this love and joy might just be down to the fact I've finished my Christmas shopping...

I've been bugging some of my friends this week with a bit of a puzzler that's been bothering me lately. It's a question I've been asked a few times by different women* over the last 2 or 3 months. And because the question is the same, but that it comes from different people and in different circumstances, it got me to thinking why I'm being asked the same question.

The question in (ahem) question? "How come you're still single?"

OK. That's a simple question. But I find I have great difficulty answering it. I think the first thing that I find tricky is whether the question itself is a good or a bad question to be asked. I mean, it could be interpreted as something like "Wow. You're pretty amazing. I'm actually staggered that a man like you hasn't been snapped up. What is wrong with the women in the world?". And that of course would be good. On the other hand it could be interpreted as something like "Wow. You're pretty weird. I'm actually staggered that you haven't found a woman yet. What in the world is wrong with you?"

The fact of the matter is I couldn't quite work out all by myself, so off I went to my friends and asked them a very simple question about this. My question was this:

"If a woman asks me 'How come you're still single?', is this on the whole a good or a bad thing?". No context. No names mentioned to protect the innocent. That's all they had to work with.

And the results were pretty interesting. I asked men and women. And all of them said pretty much that the question was on the whole a positive one. However each and every person I have asked has then followed it up by asking me why I was still single. Oh dear. This was getting complicated now. All I wanted to know was if it were a good or a bad thing, not to have the same question back from a few more people.

Which brings us back to the same question. If on the whole it's a postive question, then thats a good start. But that doesn't help me in answering the damn thing. And what do I mean "on the whole" it's a positive question? What are the negative aspects? And are they the root of me having difficulty with the question in the first place? And why's everyone interested in why I'm single? And why the bloody hell am I that bothered I'm writing it on my blog?

Back to the question. What are the potential negative aspects? Whilst I don't think that anyone sees being single as in itself a bad thing, it would appear that remaining single for some time (short term interludes excluded for the sake of this discussion) has potential for raising perhaps a question or two. Does this person actually want to be in a relationship? If not? Why not? If they do, how come they're not actually in one and haven't been in one for a while? What are they doing (or not doing) to find themselves in a relationship?

Wow. That's some pretty heavy stuff there. So I thought I'd meditate on it, which for me is a brisk walk through the woods, and I had a good think about why this question is difficult and what my friends have told me and what I've learnt about myself.

So here goes. Do I want to be in a relationship? Yes. That was easy, but I don't think it's actually occurred to me to say something like that to myself. And I think without saying that to yourself then unless all women are mind readers (and God knows I wish they were) then it's going to be a little tricky to find me the right woman. But I looked back over the past 2 or 3 years, and I think it's fair to say that I haven't always wanted to be in a relationship during that time. In fact, I think rushing in to one or two when I wasn't ready put me off. At what point that situation changed I don't think I know. But it has changed. I'm ready now but what is clear to me is that without recognising exactly what it is I'm looking for, then simply hoping for something to happen is somewhat of a silly thing to be doing.

As I was walking yesterday, some quite simple things came together in my mind. I know what I want. I've known what I've wanted for years. I thought I found it once. But it didn't work out. That doesn't mean you stop trying. It means you try harder the next time. That doesn't mean that you settle for second best. I'm not going to waste mine or anyone else's time being in a relationship that I don't think has some kind of future. Which is great, but when you consider that for two people to find "the one" for them is still fairly difficult, then obviously you've got to make efforts to try and find one another. Or at the very least be a little bit more upfront about what (and who) you want. In fact, thinking about this now, this seems to be a fairly common complaint about men from women. A lot of us men just need to be a bit bolder I think. And, well, stop writing about it on a blog and get out there and find that woman.

So, what will I answer next time I'm asked the question? "I'm still single because I can't answer this damn question". That should sort it.

* This doesn't include my Mum, who asks pretty much the same question whenever I see her, although it usually asked in a way that only a Mother can ask her son