Diary Days 2023

10. How My Music Has Changed- 10.01.2023

I haven’t bought a record for years, I have very few CDs in the flat. It was 1980 when I was bought my first record player. A very small affair if I remember. I had precious few singles back then. I did have a radio cassette recorder prior to that time which I never recorded the Top 40 on, budgie chirping in the background. Of course, so I am told, the model that I had with the integrated tape didn’t pick up outwith noises. I must have found out by chance…

My first memories of music was the radiogram that my parents had in the dining room. You can’t beat a bit of Val Doonican on a Sunday morning before Junior Church. Delaney’s Donkey anyone ?

I don’t have a record player now. Not even a CD player. Actually I might have- Oh yes- there is one integrated into this all-in-one PC. As you can tell, I never use it.

So, how do I live my life without music ? Truth is, I don’t. I listen to music more than I ever did. And so much of it. You see, a few years ago I finally reached 2008 and found Spotify. Signing up to its premium service was the best tenner I ever spent. At risk of sounding like an advertisement, other services are available.

Spotify was a fitness tool. I used to walk home from Portslade along the beach walk when I worked in that thing they call an office. I would get lost in the track lists that I had created. Time would fly by. Such memorable evenings under the moonlight listening to The Dooleys.

Nowadays, when I work in the evening quiet, I have a compilation I have made softly playing in the background. I’ve discovered that I am stuck in the 70s and early 80s, with the occasional venture into the modern era. I have also discovered a liking for groups and artists who I never recognised before. My love for music has been rekindled. I’m always open to suggestions for new listening, dear reader, and given that you will doubtless be mortified to see ‘The Dooleys’ singled out above I would expect the suggestions to flow.

Or perhaps I’m too far gone.

Ian

9. From The Top Deck- 09.01.2023

18- possibly the most comforting number I will ever know on a sodden Saturday afternoon in St James’s Street.

They said that 42 was the answer to the universe, and for a while it was, until about 1987 that is. It was around then that the number 81 took over the Queens Park route and has magically stayed ever since. Although in 2014 they reversed the number for reasons unknown.

This mobile shoebox, this timeless cabin, the bringer of relief to tired legs for whom Egremont Place brings a hill too far..

Sometimes, in particular on a dull day, the misery of its inhabitants gives it the air of a mobile prison. I guess these folk, faces that become ever more familiar despite my more infrequent trips nowadays, appreciate little of its history or servitude to Queens Park life.

Then perhaps it’s just the elements, but I hope their facial expressions are not a summary of their existence. Maybe we should have a Carpenters C.D playing softly in the background. Not ‘Rainy days and Mondays’ though….

My dear 18, though your fares may rise and your customers moan, I love you still. You’ve always been there for us hill dwelling folk, sometimes two or three of you at once to the belated rescue….

Hurried commuters, hassled shoppers, and nine ‘o’ clock pensioners of Queens Park unite… and celebrate our servant eternal !

From today:

Ian

8. Get Smart- 08.01.2023

I’ve never been quick to embrace modern technology, although I did have my first mobile phone before a lot of folk in 1994. Five years ago, a friend told me of the new fad known as the smart watch and how he had paid £400 for his. ‘Why would you want to make a call on one of then ?’, I asked, ‘..isn’t that what the phone is for ?’ It all seemed a little silly.

My view of technology follows the same pattern. At first I dismiss it as utterly unnecessary, then I take a brief look at what it offers and dismiss it as useful for someone else. I then take a long time looking at it and keep putting it off.

Then I buy it.

So yesterday the smart watch arrived. Naturally I took about an hour or so to work the thing out. It tells me how long I have been sleeping, my heart rate, and also what a lazy sod I am. As if I needed telling that. Thankfully, being a person not given to displays of wealth, real or imagined, it is very much a mid-range and there was never a consideration of buying a Rolex. I mean, who wants a watch that just tells the time ? See, I’ve embraced it…

So quite what the next fad will be I don’t know. I’ve only just learnt how to send text messages. Or is it Messenger ? Or have they developed some sort of telepathy process now ?

Anyway, I’ve clearly reached 2017 at last, having only moved forward from 2005 when I discovered Spotify. I’m a modern man. 1973 version…

Ian

7. I Made My Own Pizza. Sort Of.. 07.01.2023

With the climate making any hopes of outside activity redundant today I decide that another day inside is not a problem. There is plenty of sport to watch and listen to, stuff to read, and generally little and pleasant things I can be getting on with.

Now one thing I’ve never really done is cooking. Well, I have but it’s more heating stuff up. I think the measure of a person’s ability to cook is their Sunday roast. Given that I’ve never cooked one in my life I don’t register.

My Home Economics school report, aged 14, provides an indicator to my future attitudes towards all things culinary…

‘Unfortunately, Ian has no understanding of how to conduct himself in a cookery room. He does not concentrate, he does not follow instructions, he does not pay attention. All he does is play around in a childish manner’

I don’t know about you, dear reader, but I rather think that take aways are a bit of an expensive folly these days. I do love a pizza, but at more than a tenner minimum it was becoming a bit expensive and unnecessary. So I wanted to learn about making my own. Well, sort of. You see I bought the pizza bases from ASDA then added as I saw fit. I told my workmates yesterday I was going to have a peanut butter and treacle flavour. I’m not sure if they thought I was serious or not, but when I added that parsnips and Vegemite would be a good addition I think they sussed me out.

Anyway, today I gave it a try. Whilst the process settles itself at the bottom end of cooking, Below the bottom end really, it could well be my first steps towards Master Chef.

Alternatively, it might just simply have saved me a tenner and taught me not to be so lazy in future.

A day for new learning.

Ian

6. Solar Heating Returns- 06.01.2023

Then, as if it heard the yearning from the depth of my soul, the sun makes a most welcome return….

It’s so warming how much colour there is when the skies are clear. Okay, it’s not so attractive in winter, the deep greenery absent as if the landscape had been sculpted using the budget option, but nonetheless it’s most welcome.

So today the heating was off and I raced to various parts of the building to get some seasonal pictures. The sun acts as central heating to the flat for long parts of the day in winter, so much so that I’m in short sleeves for a couple of hours. I feel like an actor in a stage play as the day goes on with the number of costume changes. Short sleeves, long sleeves, and as the sun goes down on the watery horizon on comes my battered old jumper. In the evenings it’s toasty and the jilted short sleeves get their call to return.

I had a visit from a friend this afternoon who came for a bath. When I lived in a flat that only had a shower I did so miss those evenings when I could lay back and soak, candles on and glass of wine in hand, contemplating life’s choices or lack of. Thus, my bathroom is open to any friends who have such a first world longing.

Next week I have an invitation to join a work meeting in Yorkshire. It’s clear that the arrangements have been made in a way that would accommodate my presence. It is understood that such a journey and overnight stay, regardless of its tailored convening, may yet prove beyond me. People can be so kind, and are in my case. I feel most blessed.

Ian

5. Endless Summer- 05.01.2023

A long day. We all have those. Mind numbing admin. Another thing we all have to do. I’m obsessed with systems, method. It works very well, and very rarely is a task missed. The problem with inventing such clockwork is that there is very little drama. Not that I’m a fan of drama, but there is always that little desire for something a teensy bit exciting to happen. But it rarely does. I’m quite thankful really.

But in this endless life of contented, dull, sameness, I have found a desire for a change that I guess a lot of folk would like. I love waking up just after dawn on a warm summer morning, looking out the window, and feeling the beautiful light breeze on my face. I remember those hot days last year, seemingly an age away now, with great fondness. I say ‘days’ it was more the early hours I loved. It wasn’t hot, it certainly wasn’t cool, but it was just perfect. One morning I took a walk at 5am. Everything seemed well with nature and the planet. Something about dawn brings an absence of time. Like everyone is being born again. As we wake up, just for a moment, we aren’t the sum of our experience and conditioning. We are just alive. I love those moments; they don’t last for long.

Of course, at this time of year we would wish to re-create summer but cannot. Unless you are fortunate enough to be able to spend time abroad. So, I appear to have developed the next best thing. Well, not quite, but my work colleagues seemed to like it. My computer screen sits at an angle to the window. On what was apparently the hottest day of the year, or ever, I took a picture from the window. This now sits as my home screen. So, on a wet winter’s day I look in that direction and see a different image. The silent symphony of dawn. The chorus gently playing. And I’m back there.

In a few months I would hope to see the real thing, if the winter of dull doesn’t make way for the summer of disappointment. But such days will come and be cherished again. One of life’s little free treats.

Ian

4. The Guilt Of Convenience- 04.01.2023

Two parcels arrived today. They can be added to one I haven’t yet opened. A dehumidifier, extension leads, and some incense sit unopened. Shopping online is now a natural habit. My groceries are delivered too. The convenience is huge. Working from home I just stop and let the delivery folks in the main door, up they come, and it’s in.

The ease of this process helps me incredibly. But it’s only really been in the last decade or so that this facility has taken off. I sometimes wonder how I coped before. But, of course I did. Yet, even though millions of folk do exactly the same thing, I still don’t sit with entire comfort about it. It feels lazy, and I ponder that those who bring me these items must have a much harder life. Getting up early, driving in the rain, meeting grumpy customers. I always try to show appreciation when they come, thinking that I should somehow make even the smallest of positive impacts on their day. The reality is they may well earn more than me and be much happier with their lot. But nonetheless, I still feel that they are performing some kind of servant role. And it makes me feel, well, awkward.

I ask myself where all this comes from and wonder if a dose of feeling unworthy is perhaps a healthy thing. The idea of not taking things for granted (although perhaps having everything delivered is taking things for granted) and the concept of privilege, real or imagined. But then I tell myself that convenience is not necessarily privilege, just a facet of modern living, and doubtless tomorrow will bring another urgent need for another delivery and all will be forgotten.

Modern life.

Ian

3. Back To ‘Normal’- 03.01.2023

Today I went back to work. I say ‘went back to work’ but work is at the place I am sitting now and have regularly sat over the last couple of weeks. The alure of the big comfy office chair more preferable to watching TV on the couch. So I didn’t so much return to work, which conjures up images of bus stops and pouring rain, as I walked three steps and plonked myself in my regular seat.

It was good to see everyone again, but even that is a surreal turn of phrase. I didn’t actually see anyone today just names on a screen with text next to them, pleasant exchanges, requests and responses. But it felt like they were here and when I make my video calls tomorrow it will be even more so. I have missed everyone so- even though I never meet them in the physical world.

One of my colleagues asks if I am coming to the meeting in Yorkshire next week and says how they want to give me a big hug. Although very warmed by this, I know that such trips are rare for me given my nervous state. I say how much I would like to be there, which is a genuine response, but know that this is unlikely. That said, I keep the hope of confidence open, and folk are kind enough not to press me on such things.

From the window I find myself observing the day. In the summer this can be a thing of awe, the brightness and warmth of the town flowing up the hill, happy folk making their way to the park, the beautiful greenery of this leafy urban enclave. But winter has its merits too. The rain lashing against the window, the feeling of protection that the pane of glass affords, the warm light of the desk lamp as darkness begins to creep in.

This evening I also find myself engaging in some work bits as I listen to the Radio Sussex commentary on Brighton & Hove Albion’s match at Everton. They stroll to a 4-1 win. As I work, the presenters, the sculptors of the night, bring the image of the ground and its atmosphere to my ears. Like friends engaged in a favour they bring life to the scene as I use my imagination to colour it in. I’ve listened to football on the radio since a young age when I held my little orange transistor to my ear under the covers after bedtime. Then, as is now, it felt like I was listening to distant friends brought to my side by the magic of the airwaves.

I contemplate the word ‘normal’. Today was back to ‘normal’. But there was nothing normal about it. ‘Normal’ sounds so grey, so dull, so demanding of fruitless energy. I don’t want anything to be normal. And it seems that when I find pleasure in such everyday things the word loses its dominance of daily routine. If today was indeed normal then I so love it being.

Ian

2. New Experiences, Old Steps 02.01.2023

This morning I woke up around ten to seven. It was still dark. There was no need to get up. Indeed, there is very rarely a need to ever get up at that time. Working from home I can stumble into the office chair at 9am having walked the arduous six feet from my bed. These days it is very rare I hear the cock crow.

So I stumbled through the haze and took a peak through the window. It’s still dark and, although not raining, it looks a little uninviting. But then a thought crosses my mind. The estate has clearly taken the Bank Holiday to heart. Only one light can be seen in the flats opposite. I realise that working from home is such a blessing in winter. But then another thought crosses my mind.

At the very same moment, 40 odd years ago and twelve years old, I would have been on my way to the paper shop to collect the ragged old bag to deliver the morning news to the folk of the area. I say news, many read the tabloids so we would really be looking for another word. I had two rounds, totalling about one and a half miles. The bag was always very heavy and harsh on shoulder. But this daily ritual continued throughout my secondary school days. Each morning return followed by another mile or so walk to school for the 8.45 start.

I told myself how life was probably so much harder then. Upon my walk home from school I would often have other pre-planned happenings to address. Another mile walk and back to Boys’ Brigade, a church class, homework (Okay, I always did my best to avoid that one). But whereas going out in the morning today would be a chore, it was something I just… did.

In honour of my past self I decided to re-trace the steps of the old round and feel the morning air. I did exactly that. The whole process was liberating- especially minus the heavy bag. I felt invigorated by the morning exercise and not at all conscious of being up at an early hour. It struck me how I engaged I was with existence back then, and how far removed I am from it now.

Back home I become aware of how this morning’s excursion was less of a journey down memory lane and more of an encouragement to see more of life. I love the empty streets, the waking light, the feeling that the world is all mine. As if I have a private audience.

As for the mornings when it’s bucketing down though, little me is welcome to keep those to himself.

Ian

1. All Is Quiet… 01.01.2023

New Year’s Day, and the weather offers nothing for newness. I doubt much else does either. I don’t do ‘resolutions’ but, then again, I do. Stop smoking (does vaping count ?) lose weight, although I don’t need to lose much really, and try and get out more. The last one shouldn’t be too hard as I hardly ever go out. This, for those who don’t know, is because I get very stressed at the thought of straying too far from home. Something that has worsened over the years and was probably made worse by lockdown.

I did pop out for a local walk this evening. Just a mile. But nice to do. This was plotted in my Excel spreadsheet as I am one for stats. The plan is to increase this over time. The plan, that is.

In the outside world there are the usual tales of calamity, hope, despair, kindness. And there is a self pleasuring walrus on the quay side at Scarborough.

So, as I ‘resolve’ to write each day for this year, there will be tales of mundane urban existence, a few witty bits, and a photo from each of the 360 something days if I’m granted the duration and all is well. That’s the thing about new years really. No-one knows what will happen. So come on this little journey and leave your own thoughts too.

A picture from today ? Well, a cosy one is probably best. This might be a theme for the rest of this month…

Ian