The Saturday List #515 - My top ten celestial events

 I have had a lifelong fascination with the skies. I put this down to my father being a WW2 bomber pilot. Dad used to fly Wellingtons on night missions to bomb axis sites. He told me that pften he'd be overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the skies. He saw meteorites, lunar eclipses and all manner of other things. He was taught astral navigation as part of his pilot qualification. If your compass failed, you had to know where the North Star was to get home safely! Dad explained that with the North Star and a watch, you could navigate anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere. He also informed me that if Germans were chasing you and ou needed to evade them, move at night and navigate by the stars. He bought me a chart of the night sky and would point out the constellations to me. It cemented an abiding love. He also bought me a small telescope for my 11th birthday. I would look for the crescent of venus, the moons of Jupiter and rings of Saturn. I felt affirmation of this love when my favourite musicians such as Bowie did Starman, Space Oddity and Life on Mars and Steve Miller did Space Cowboy (although maybe I misunderstood this connotation!).  I have enjoyed many moments looking at the skies, although some have been a disappointment. Anyway here are my top ten moments

1. The partial Solar Eclipse on May 20th 1966. This happened at about 10 in the morning. I was 3 3/4 and I'd not started school. Life was good. Dad was very excited about it. He brought home a welding mask and showed it to me. He explained that the Chinese believed that it was a dragon eating the Sun. It never occureed to me to question this until now, but I just googled it and this was what came up "Yes, ancient Chinese mythology held that solar and lunar eclipses occurred when a celestial dragon or a heavenly dog (tiangou) tried to devour the sun or moon." . Dad explained all about eclipses and used a table tennis ball and a football to show how it worked. My Dad had been a pilot instructor for the RAF and I realise now he was an excellent teacher. Just because I was three years old, was no reason not to explain things properly.

2. Lunar Eclipse January 18th 1973. My sister Caroline was most excited about this. When there is a lunar eclipse, the Moon turns dark blood red. It was really spooky. We sat up on the balcony and watched it. Dad told us about watching a lunar eclipse when he was on leave in Italy in 1944. He said his crew drank wine and stared up. He said that he was wondering whether my Mum was looking up at the eclipse and thinking of him!

3.  Watching a satellite pass overhead with the family in our garden in 1966. I recall Dad dragging us all out into the garden to watch a satellite pass overhead. It seemed like a big event. Dad was always fascinated by such things. He explained that as we could only see sateliites because they reflected light, they were only visible just after sunset. Now there are so many that we've lost our wonder. 

4. Comet Kouhoutek January 1974. This was billed as perhaps the most spectacular comet ever, when first detected. It was going to be the brightest thing in the sky, barring the Sun. But it was nothing like that. It was a faint splodge in the sky when viewed through binoculars. I was much excited by comets at the time, however none has lived up to the hype.

5.  The Bovedy Meteorite in 1969. This was the single most spectacular thing I ever saw. As was my want as a kid, I was sitting out on our balcony staring at the stars and suddenly this amazing fireball passed overhead travelling south to north. I'd never seen anything like it. It was on the news later, it crashed in Northern Ireland. Had it been a bit bigger, maybe I'd have met the same fate as the dinsosaurs! It was one of those moments I'll never forget. 

6.  The Persiends meteor shower in 1982. This is the most spectacular of all the regular meteor showers. In 1982, a bunch of us decided to watch it properly. We went up to Dunstable downs and took a picnic. I thought it was amazing, my then girlfriend was far less impressed. She enjoyed the night out and the socialising, but thought it all a waste of time! I googled why it was supposedly a special one and the reason was because it was a new moon, so the sky was darker than usual.

7.  UFO in 1972. As I mentioned, I used to love sitting out on our balcony looking at the stars for hours on end, before I discovered punk rock and girls. The holy grail for me was to see a UFO. I used to hope they'd abduct me and give me trip around Mars, Venus and Saturn. I wasn't aware of the claims of the terrible things they are meant to do then. I usually sat staring at the stars, when I was supposed to be doing my homework. I never saw one until one time I was staring up at the night sky. I saw a strange orange cigar shaped object travelling from Southwest to Northeast. It had no lights or other markings. It made no noise. It travelled at the speed that a plane normally would. The conditions were perfect.  I never saw anything like it again. There were no press reports of anything. It was rather mundane in every other way. As it passed directly overhead, I got a proper look at it with binoculars. It had no distinguishing features at all. This is what it looked like. I did this on paintshop, but even if I'd had the best camera in the world it would look. What was it? I've always wondered. It was not chased by the RAF. It was either massive or at the height that planes normally fly over London. It was evenly lit, so I do not believe it was reflecting light, as it was well past sunset. It was moving far too fast to be a balloon. I am sure that there is a mundane explanation, but I've never had one. Apparently 17% of UFO sightings are this shape, but not normally this colour. I know what it wasn't. A planet. a metorite, a comet, a conventional plane, a balloon or a satellite. As I knew all of the stars etc, and checked the satellite tables in the papers, I knew it wasn't one of them. A satellite wouldn't have a shape like that visible with the naked eye. I asked my Dad about it, I assumed he'd know. He said "Draw a picture of it, describe all of the conditions, and sooner or later you'll figure it out". I haven't!

8. The near total solar eclipse in London. The 11th August 1999 there was a near total solar eclipse over London. I was working for Centrefile and we went up on the roof. It was quite eerie and the temperature dropped several degrees. I was pretty overawed by it. When the moment passed, we all went to the pub!

9.  Two Suns in the sky.  I saw this with my mates John McGeough and Pete Conway in the infant school playground at St Vincents in 1968. We all wrote about it in our "News" book. The teacher told us not to be so silly and that we shouldn't make stories up. I told my Dad about it, he said it was called a Sun Dog and was caused by ice crystals in the sky forming and orb like configuration and reflecting the Sun , appearing as a 2nd Sun. He told me it was rare and we were very lucky to see it. Around this time I started doubting whether my teachers were worth listening to at all!

10. A black line in the sky. Regular readers will know I walk my dogs regularly and I always keep an eye on the skies. About 10 years ago, I was in Mill Hill park and I saw the most strange straight black line, in a clear blue sky. It looked as if someone had taken a pen and drawn it across the sky. Apart from the fact that it was completely straight, I would have said it was a massive rope. I was thinking "That is really strange" when I noticed a plane flying along the line. Behind the plane is what some people call a chemtrail and others call a contrail, that blotted out the black line. It was the most curious thing I've ever seen. I have done some research and the best explanation I have seen is that it was a shadow cast by the contrail. Had I known this possible explanation, I'd have checked the postion of the Sun, but as mundane explanations of odd things go, it is very plausable.

Writing this blog made me realise just how much I miss my Dad, even though he's been gone for 39 years. He was a sane, rational man, who always sought answers and neve dismissed what even my teachers dismissed as childish fantasies. I often discussed UFO's with him. He said that he knew dozens of pilots who'd seen bizarre things. He said that people such as pilots are good observers and cannot be dismissed. He said that if something is unexplained, you shouldn't assume anything. He said that in his opinion, there is no reason why there shouldn't be more advanced civilisations in the Universe, but there are all manner of practical reasons why it would be very unlikely for them to account for most of the sightings. He said that usually a simple explanation eventually surfaces, such as undocuented atmospheric phenomina, experimental military craft, optical illusions. However to discount every testamony or to ascribe things that were clearly "bad answers" to difficlt questions was most counter productive. His view was that most sensible, advanced aliens would probably give us a wide berth until we learned how to peacefully co-exist with each other, before they sought to engage with us. It is a view that I have realised is very wise.  He sought to educate me and taught me to ask questions and seek answers. I couldn't be luckier really to have had such a man in my life. 

Rock and Roll Stories #81 - White Light/White Heat

The False Dots next gig

 The Velvet Underground. The proto punk band? Where it all started? One of the biggest influences on my early tastes in music was my eldest brother Laurie. He signposted many bands and artists to me and when I started playing guitar, showed me a few tricks (most of which became the foundation of my playing style). He had a wide taste in music and a record collection to die for. Laurie is far more intelligent than me and he was very open to anything that he thought was interesting. He played in a band that performed traditional Irish music, when he was at school studying to be a priest. When he discovered psychedlic music and culture, he got into things like Pink Floyd, Country Joe and The Fish and The Electric Prunes. 

When I told him I was into punk, he said "Oh that all started with The Velvet Underground" and lent me a compilation abum of their tracks. I was quite intrigued. It was unlike anything else in his collection. The band went from sheer noise to the tenderest of love songs, but all had a dark edge. There was something indefineably interesting about them. Oddly, although I loved supercharged punk, with them it was the softer songs, many with Nico singing that really did it for me. In many ways, it was as much the forerrunner of Indie pop as punk. Jangly pop songs about being ravaged by heroin, wrapped up in a sugar coated topping worked for me. 

Around that time in 1978/80, I did a lot of babysitting for Laurie and my mate Pete, who I was putting the band together with would come along to keep me company. Laurie would buy us a bottle of cider and tell us to play records, so long as we didn't wake up the kids. When we hearad The Velvet Underground, we both agreed this was the way to go. Dark edged songs, that had very poppy overtones. We decided that we'd overdub an acoustic guitars to give it that feel.  I don't know what people were expecting, but it certainly wasn't what they heard. I guess as cunning plans go, trying to sound like one of the least commercially successful bands of all time is not the best. But for us it was a liberation. We were no longer trying to sound like every other punk band and it gave us a degree of freedom lyrically that had disappeared from punk.

It is odd how many people cite the Velvet Underground as an influence, but clearly never really listened to them. We'd occasionally see bands do covers of VU songs, but invariably if it was a rock band it will be heroin, or occasionally White Light/White Heat. These days there are some cracking covers (check out this article) but I used to find it depressing that people didn't see beyond the obvious. 

When the False Dots did our tour of Sweden, we needed to add extra songs to the set. We decided to do  a VU song. We decided on Sweet Jane. Paul Hircombe suggested i, because his girlfriend was called Jane. By th time we got it together, he'd left her for a girl called Christine. It's a great song. We did a version of it at a bikers rally in 1982. A huge biker made eye contact with me at the back of the hall. He looked terrifying. He marched up to me and put a large spliff in my mouth. After the gig, he told me it was his favourite song. His wife was Jane and she'd recently passed away. He hadn't been expecting to hear it. He told me that for a moment, she was with him, holding his hand as we played. It was, perhaps, the moment that I truly realised that music is spiritual. 

The False Dots had many influences over the years. When we first started concieving the band, I think we envisaged a cross between Wire (Pink Flag era) and Anarcho punk band Crass. "Wrong", from our last album is the best recorded example of this era. I then discovered 2 Tone and The Specials. I really wanted that sort of set up, but we didn't know any brass players. We expermented with Reggae but  it sounded wrong. When we discovered the Velvet Underground. we realised that it was within our capabilities to achieve that sound. I was never into their worship of narcotics, but there is no dount Lou Reed and John Cale were musical geniuses.

I could never really figure out the total lack of commercial success of the VU. Perhaps that is why the False Dots never acheived a mass following.  Lou Reed eventually received the recognition for his talents when David Bowie produced Transformer. It may be the best aalbum ever made. It is truly awesome. People started revisiting his earlier work. Punk artists were especially keen to explore the back catalogue. This was partly because when the punk movement started, there were no records. You had to see the bands to find out what they sounded like. Actually having something you could listen to at home was rare, so obscure bands like the VU, who shared the nihilism and minimalism of punk were influential. Another band in this genre were the Stooges, but they were far more a rock and roll band. The VU were far darker and deeper. 

In 1980, we had a meeting with an A&R guy at a major record company and played our demos. He asked about our influences, when we mentioned the VU, he said "Have you actually listened to them? Have you heard 'waiting for the man'. I replied  "Actually we were going for the vibe of beginning to see the light", he was bemused. I guess that quoting an obscure album track from a commercially unsuccessful band was not going to win any arguments. But for me, it was what we wanted to sound like. 

Last night, The False Dots rehearsed our set for our next gig at "The Camden Rocks Festival". We will be doing a slightly different set and we will be doing one of our 1980 tracks, Not all She Seems, which was perhaps the song most influence by The Velvet Underground. The song has had many incarnations, and is probably the song the band have played most times live (I have no record of this though). As I was playing it, I recall sitting in my bedroom with Pete who I formed the band with, working out the chords and lyrics. I never imagined I'd still be playing it 46 years later. We wrote it to be as shocking as possible, very influenced by the VU and Lou Reeds obsession with people of a non binary sexual orientation. It was based on a conversation we had with trans prostitute, who told us they'd been sleeping with a Tory MP for cash. We used to see the said individual at gigs, then one day they disappeared off the face of the earth. A mutual friend said "She met someone she used to know, she packed her bags, she had to go". We assumed it was a violent pimp she'd been trying to escape from.

I think that it stands up well for a song written 46 years ago. It is funny to think that without the VU, it wouldn't be there.

Budget Commentary - Small business are always the whipping boys for the taxman

 I was just on the Eddie Nestor show on BBC Radio London discussing todays budget. One of the points I made was that small UK businesses never get a break. The big multinational companies such as Amazon and Google etc pay little if any tax on the business they do in the UK. Companies like mine are taxed to the hilt. Small business is simply not on the radar of governments when they plan economic policy. We survive as we operate in small niche markets, where there is no economy of scale for multi nationals to make huge profits. Often we do the things that keep the economy running, adding huge value to the economy and getting nothing in return. Let me give just one example. Amy Winehouse started her musical journey rehearsing at Mill Hill Music Complex. She went on to be a global star. Sales of her music have brought huge amounts of money into the UK economy. Without a business like us, where would she have started the journey? But there are so few music studios and we are run independently, so we don't get a seat at the table. Councils don't recognise the value we add, national governments are not interested. They talk a good game about supporting the arts, but they do nothing at grassroots level for venues. 

Someone recently criticised me, saying that all I was interested in is my business and making a profit "why should music studios be a special case". Well firstly I have to talk about our sector, as no one else is. Secondly, if a business adds huge value to the UK economy, and is charged a higher proportion of tax than huge offshore businesses that do little, if anything, for the UK, then surely something is wrong?

The last few budgets have added massive costs to my companies operational costs. We have responded by using less staff and investing nothing in training and very little on replacement of equipment. If we had an environment that all of our profits didn't go in taxes, we would employ more staff and invest more in equipment, much of which comes from UK suppliers. All of this would bring in far more tax revenue, but this is never recognised. 

I will update this later, if the chancellor surprises me!

No good deed ever goes unpunished

 Sometimes, I despair, I really do. My mother once informed me that "No good deed ever goes unpunished". This is a saying that has bit me on the bum many a time. Yesterday is one of those occasions. You do something which is quite clearly a good turn. The person thanks you at the time. A month later, they are seeking a financial advantage in an unforeseen (by me) situation, and it gets re-invented as a terrible thing. I'd love to share the details, however it would be wholly inappropriate. In this particular case, it is something that is pretty trivial (unless I am missing something), which makes it all even more annoying. It is not the first time. I doubt it will be the last. In business, I've almost lost count of the times I've tried to help a colleague, associate, customer, only to find that not only is it unappreciated, it is actually a source of resentment and hostility for them.

The human brain is a strange thing indeed. If you give someone a discount to try and help them, their assumption is that previously you were trying to fleece them and the discount is proof. If you give them career advice, as you can see they are making basic mistakes when seeking promotions, new jobs, if they succeed using your advice, they then tell everyone "I'm glad I didn't listen to him" even though they clearly did. When you make business introductions to help people forward their career, you find they try and cut you out.

Normally, I sail through such things. You learn and you move on. Today my sciatica in my back is driving me mad, so it is really annoying me. As sciatica is caused by nerve related issues, for me,  it affects the wiring in my head and makes me want to kill people (not literally). So today it bugs me. 

Sunday Reflection #103 - The day I've been dreading is almost upon us

 I'm off to mass in a minute at The Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Mill Hill. The church is implacably opposed to assisted dying. It is fair to say that its stance does not reflect my opinions. It is my opinion that if a compos mentis and they are in excruciating pain, with only the prospect of it getting worse, I would have no isssue with them deciding the time and the place of their departure from this mortal coil, surrounded by their friends and family. I get all of the arguments abouts safeguards and I know that there are all manner of complex issues, but I do believe that in the case of someone like Esther Rantzen who had clearly decided the path she wanted, it is not the business of the state or the law to prevent this happening in the most pleasant way possible for her. Do I believe that a just and compassionate God would send her and her to Hell? I cannot possibly reconcile that with my personal views of faith. I get all of the arguments about "bumping off inconvenient individuals", but where a medically diagnosed progressive terminal illness is diagnosed, for me the matter is one of compassion. 

Why am I writing this. Well there is some very disturbing news in my close family. A day I have been dreading for a very long time seems to be looming. I will have a very important decision to make and I suspect it may be in the next couple of days. It is one that I have deep sorrow in making, but I also believe that if pain and suffering cannot be addressed and it will only get worse, then the most humane thing for everyone is to have a dignified end. Our beloved dog Bruno is fifteen years old. We've had him since 2012 and he is a superstar. But he has become almost lame, lost control of his bowels and is off his food. He hasn't wagged his tail for a couple of weeks. He doesn't sleep at night, waking up panting and getting agitated. We have tried various things from the vet and nothing works. He has had uncontrollable diarrhoea (which as a dyslexic is a word I cannot even spell). Over the last week it has rapidly gone down hill. He does not seem to be enjoying life at all. Initially we thought it was a stomach bug, but it has gone on for four days and there seems no improvement, despite medication. 

Sadly, it seems that a phone call to the vet is imminent. There will be tears and it will be a terrible day. But such decision have to be made. We will of course take the vets advice. But it has brought home to me the truth that such decisions are almost impossible. I think people who care probably make them a long time after they really should. As regular readers know, cancer has been part of my life since 2011. I have given the matter a lot of thought. What would I personally do, and I don't know. I think I'd want to hang on until the last possible moment. But is that fair on the family? In 2012, I watched a friend die of oesophageal cancer. He fought until the last moment. It was horrific for all of us. I am 99% sure that the opiates that he was given to alleviate the pain was what ended his life, not the cancer. What was shocking was just how hard he fought. Three times in the last few hours, we thought he'd gone, then he'd rally. He finally left, when everyone left the room for a quick cigarette break. It was almost as if he didn't want anyone to see him depart. My sister, who is a retired hospice nurse told me that this is quite common. Does the Grim Reaper wait around the corner for a clear run? 

I believe that dogs have a semi spiritual role in our lives, to make us better people and teach us lessons. The current lesson we are being taught is brutal, but it is a good thing in the bigger picture. No lesson in life comes without a price to pay. Dogs have about one seventh of the lifespan of a human, so if we look after them properly, we might have seven or eight in our journey. In mine, I've had five. We had a puppy called Christine, who lasted a matter of weeks before she ran in the road and got run over. It was horrible. Then we had a Beagle called Bruce. He was a wonderful dog. He'd been dumped in Mill Hill Park and ended up in our house. When my parents went to Australia in 1981 and I went to Sweden, we asked our neighbours to look after him. They had two small girls. When we all returned, they asked if the could keep him as the girls loved him. Much to my annoyance, my parents agreed. As I moved out shortly after, it was clearly the right decision. I still saw him. We then got Tilly the Boxer in 2004, when our cat died. She was a reaal character. I love Boxers, they are great fun. We got Bruno in 2012, as we wanted a dog to keep Tilly company. Bruno was a rescue dog, completely bonkers. He drove Tilly mad. he was twice her size,a  fox red labrador/ rotweiller cross. He'd been badly treated so has always been very unpredictable. But he is also the best fun and the silliest dog ever. Much to our surprise, he has reached fifteen.  He has always had a dickie stomach, but always seems happy. When Tilly died in 2017, we got Keira. She is another rescue dog. A white German Shepherd. She is the lovliest dog, but is also the most nervous and territorial. She is extremely scared of men and to this day will not approach me, except when we are walking, when she becomes the perfect dog and my best friend. 

All of our dogs apart from Tilly have had difficult starts and there behaviour reflects this. I have a very low opinion of people who mistreat animals. If people don't like animals and don't keep them, that is fine, but people who abuse them disgust me. I nearly punched someone at the gym, after I heard them saying they were looking to rehome a 4 year old labradoodle, and would put it down if they couldn't, as they wanted a puppy for their children. It was a moment when I realised the anger management had paid off. I think the person is one of the most disgusting individuals I've ever seen. I avoid him like the plague when I see him, as I don't want to get triggered and do something stupid. For me, putiing an animal down is a last resort. A moment when something you love has reached a point where it is more cruel to let them carry on suffering. 

In such moments as this, I pray for guidance, to do the right thing and to see the right path. Generally when such moments come along, I think I do the right thing. I can sleep at night. 

The Saturday List #514 - My five greatest moments of spiritual awakening

 Do you ever have moments in your life where everything changes, where the door that had been holding you back in life opens and you move to a new chapter? I am of the opinion that our society is deliberately designed to divorce us from our true self. Our consumer society is designed to distract us from the things that should really matter. How many times are we too busy staring at our phones to see the beautiful sunset above our heads. I was considering the issue of spiritual awakening and realising that there is something deeper and more important that we should be focussing on. I am not talking about Jesus appearing and suddenly we become a Holy Joe, quite the opposite. I think that often organised religion is one of the biggest problems, because it puts us off finding the deeper meanings in things. I personally do believe it has a place in society, as it provides a focus for ommunity and churches are great spaces. However, I have never actually had any sort of spiritual awakening in a church or at a church service.

I have, however, had moments. These are those moments.

1. Walking around Cornwall in November 1984. I'd just split up with my then girfriend and I needed some headspace. I decided to take a couple of weeks off work and walk around the Cornish coast. There were no toursits around. The weather was cold and crisp. I didn't tell anyone what I was doing or where I was going. I didn't really know myself. I just facied walking around the Cornish coast. There was one moment, when I'd pitched my tent in a farmers field and walked up to the top of the cliffs to watch the sunset, that I sat there. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I was totally at peace with everything. I just enjoyed the silence. When the sun finally set, the stars and the moon were spectacular. It was probably the most beautiful moment of my life. I can remember thinking that although I was a very small part of creation, I was the only person in the Universe who had witnessed that amazing moment. I think this was perhaps the first, maybe the only time in my life that I'd felt completely at peace with the Universe. Then I realised I was cold, hungry and I went to the pub and it was gone. I had no idea of the storm that was brwing for me personally. 

2. On a train to a mates birthday party in Surrey in early Spring 1985. I was at a rea low. I had split up with my long term gilfriend, all my fault really. My health had been awful following a serious stomach bleed. The band had split up and I was totally bereft. It was one of the old style trains, the ones where you could open the door whenever you wanted. I decided to look out of the window and I saw a train hurtling towards us on the other track. I thought to myself "I could open the door, jump in front of it and in a second it would all be over". It seemed a very attractive thought. I am not given to such negative thoughts, but I was in a bad place. It seemed like the perfect solution to everything. For a second I was going to do it. Then I thought "What about the bloke driving the other train?" I realised what a terrible experience it would be for him. I thought of all of the people on the train, off for a night out in London. All would have their evening ruined. I thought "Do I really want my final action to be one of devastating selfishness?" I realised that this was not really me. It pulled me back from the edge. I sat back down and started to focus on the the solutions to my problems. By the time I arrived at my friends party, I was in a better place. 

3.  A yoga class in 1987 in Flower Lane. After my health issues in 1984, I started doing yoga to try and rebuild my health. There was an amazing class in Flower Lane, lead by the redoubtable Joyce, who was a real inspiration. I just did it as a gentle exercise class when I started, to try and rebuild my fitness gently following my healath issues. Joyce was possibly the most spititual person I've ever met. The class was about an hour and a half. We'd do a 10 minute relaxation at the start, an hour of yoga exercises, then a 20 minute meditation at the end. When I started the class in 1985, I dismissed the meditation completely. As time went on, I started to appreciate it. Following the death of my father in 1987, I was devastated. I simply couldn't get my head around it. In 1988, Joyce announced at the start of the class that we should all think of something that was troubling us and when we did the meditation, we'd address that. I immediately realised that it was my Dads death. After the exercise bit finished, we lay down, she dimmed the lights and explained that all problems could be solved, you just needed to free your inner spirit to allow it to guide you. I wanted to know what had happened with my Dad. So as we sank into the medetitive state, through breathing exercises. I wanted to see my father and understand why he had to go. I found myself in the most beautiful garden I could possibly imagine and my Dad was their, fit, young and healthy, with members of his family who had passed. He was delighted to see me. He said "Rog its great to see you". I was totally overcome with joy. Then he said "You shouldn't be here, it's not your time. With that, I was back in the class, but I was completely at peace. From that moment, I knew things will always be alright.

4.  Getting run over in 1988 at Burnt Oak. I got hit by a car crossing Burnt Oak Broadway. The driver was doing 40mph and jumoping the lights. I still bear the physical scars. When I saw the car hurtling towards me, I knew I was going to die. There was no way to get out of the way, no where to go. But I felt totally at peace. I realised that I had no fear of death or dying at all. It is just part of the natural cycle of things. But then, a little voice in my head said "Jump", so I did. The bonnet of the car crashed into my thigh, my feet went through the windscreen, I rolled over the roof and then fell on my head. I have never felt such pain, but I was alive. I was pleased to be alive. I have never worried about death since. 

5. April 2020 Lockdown. I decided that this was the perfect time to "finish my book". I had been writing it for two years. I started to read through it. I started to get very angry. All of the betrayals, all of the people who'd let me down. All of the people who'd used and exploited me. There was nowhere to go and no way to escape the clautrophobic  environment and no outlet to release the anger that was building. I took the dogs for our 1 hours exercise around Darlands Lake. I was very deep in introsective thought and then I realised "It's all done, it all worked out OK, they didn't win, they didn't destroy me". I realised that I was OK, I'd done OK. I'm not perfect, far from it. I don't have all the answers, maybe I don't have any of them. But I am not going to be defined by anger driven by other people who clearly have some sort of agenda. It is easy to forget this, but it is true.

To sum up there were five real aspects, maybe there will be more. But for me, spritual awakening is recognising the beauty in the universe, that is the for all of us for free, realising that self destructive behaviour affects other people and is not the fix for your problems, realise that there is more out there and sometimes you need the right person to help you find it, that in the worst moments you can find peace and enlightenment and finally that letting other peoples anger define you simply holds you back. 

I am blessed and lucky. I have good things in life. The most important thing is to appreciate them. Nothing lasts forever. I was inspired to write this, as I was woken up by our inconsiderate next door neighbours builders at 7am. There was a terrible crashing and banging. I looked out of the window and saw this. It reminded me that sometimes, God/The Universe/Random stuff (delete as you please) is trying to get your attention, when annoying stuff happens.

Have a great weekend!

Stocking up for an emergency

 So I see Andy Burnham has advised us all to 'stock up for an emegency' and have 'at least three days food and some cash' handy. I did some googling and it has been suggested that figures of between £60 - £100 per day per person. All across Europe similar advice is being given. I think having a bit of cash is not a bad idea, I always try and have some in my wallet. Back in the days when I did IT Consultancy, I did some work, for a very brief period for the FDA, for a company that had a contract with them. It was in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. One of the biggest problems was that people all congregated on the football stadium and services got overwhelmed. It was suggested that it would have been far more cost effective to give everyone $1,000 dollars in cash, so they could get out of the disaster area. This stuck with me. I am quite frankly appalled at the complete failure of the UK government to actually give us any proper advice at all.

Having large amounts of cash and a big stoc of food is not necessarily the best way to survive a disaster. There are all manner of not very nice people who night just decide to help themselves. Although I am no fan of open access to firearms, the US mentality is far better suited to Armagheddon than the British. What would we all do if we can't boil the kettle for a cup of tea. Whilst there is a mindset in the US that fantasises about being hold up, eating corned beef with assaukt rifles, the British would prefer to sit at home, drink tea and wait for things to return to normal.

My mother told me that the most surprising thing about the second world war was not that the British survived, but that people did everything possible to not let the blitz and the privations affect their normal life. When there was an air raid, as soon as the all clear went, if your house was still there, you went home and had a cup of tea. When rationing was at its height, people would try and have one day a week, where things were as normal as they could be. 

We are being advised to stockpile bottled water and tinned food. This is presumably because government disaster planners think we'll lose access to safe water and cooking facilities. They are not advising those of us with gardens to stock up on charcoal for barbecues and beer. To me, this seems far more sensible. when covid struck, I spent most of lockdown in the garden, drinking beer and having barbecues in the sunshine. Do you recall what the first shortage was? It was toilet rolls, but Burnham seems to have forgotten. The government has rushed headlong into decommissioning of analogue TV and Radio, which are far moreresilient to cyber attack than digital ones. We should also be stocking up on batteries and torches.

But all joking aside, does anyone really believe that any of this is about cyber attack or bad weather. If it was, all they have to do is legally require shops to have resilience plans in place to take cash and distribute products. What no one wants to say is that we seem to be lurching into WW3.  If you are a survivalist in Montana, that would be you big moment. If you live in Mill Hill, not so. I am not sure if MilL Hill would survive a nuclear atatck on central London. I'm not even sure I'd want to. If I did, I'd much rather have 20 bottle of whisky than 20 tins of sardines. 

I always believed that the world was ultimately run by sane, rational people, who would never by so insane as to start a nuclear war. Now I am not so sure. I do not believe the Russians would. I am not so sure about Trump and his cronies. Someone asked me if I thought Trump was a Russian agent this week. I said "I hope so, because if he is, he won't lose his rag and start nuking them". But I honestly do not know. 

One of the interesting things is that it was suggested that we have 'enough food for 3 days'.My first thought was "We probably keep enough food for a week without even trying", although a few bottles of water wouldn't go amiss.

Anyway, I gave this some thought and this is what I think you'd be advised to have in the house

1. A weeks supply of water.

2. Two weeks supply of bog rolls.

3. Two weeks supply of wet wipes, deodourant, etc 

4. Two weeks supply of alcohol.

5.  Enough choocolate and biscuits to keep youself stuffed for a week. 

5/ Any tinned foods that you actually enjoy eating cold/ 

6. Some good books. 

And if it is a nuclear attack and you survive, I'd do all the scotch in one go, as I suspect that will be a quicker and more pleasant end than one where there are no hospital services working and you are succumbing to radiation sickness. 

And on that note, have a lovely weekend

Rock and Roll Stories #80 - The perfect mix or too much egg in the pudding

Our next gig

Ever since day 1 of the False Dots, I've been on a mission to have the perfect band. This doesn't mean I wanted Jimi Hendrix, Debbie Harry, Keith Moon et all in the band. I wanted the perfect band to play the noise that was going around my head. That is a very different thing. When we started, it was very much a case of simply getting anyone we could to get going. In a strange sort of way, that was the perfect band for where we were. It meant we could develop our ideas of what a band should be and find our own direction, without someone who "knew the ropes" corralling us in a  direction we didn't want to go, before we actually knew what we wanted.

It took over a year to get to the point where I felt we were sort of ready to be unleashed on the world. We got Alan Warner of The Foundations down, as we wanted to record and sought his advice as to whether we were ready. Alan suggested we get a new drummer who could play in time and suggested a mate, Dav Davies. When Dav joined, we suddenly started to sound like the noise in my head. Recording in 1980 was expensive, but we were ambitious. Our first demo was good, but the band started to fracture. Pete, the co founder left, I recruited a new guitarist, Craig and Paul Hircombe moved to bass. Pete then decided he was coming back and so took over on vocals. On the day of our first gig, he didn't bother to show. It was a baptism of fire, but was the best thing that could happen. We felt that having got through that, we could get through anything. A second demo was done, it was a massive step up. However, all it really did was inform me of what we could do. Paul Hircombe got it. Craig didn't, but he'd go along with it. 

After our tour of Sweden, we decided that we'd try and get a deal. Paul suggested that we get a female singer and a better drummer. We did. The band sounded amazing, but it really wasn't the sound in my head anyomore. It was sort of a bit like Blondie, but I'd learned a lesson. If you want a specific sound, then you need the right person, not just one who could do the job. The singer departed with Craig and the drummer. I had decided to simplify the sound, strip it back and I met Venessa Sagoe, who was an amazing singer. We got Adam Francis on drums, he was a very metronmic drummer, no frills. Ideal for what I wanted. We then added keyboard player Chris Potts. The band was exactly what I had wanted.  They could play anything, Venessa was a brilliant performer. It had taken four years, but we'd got there. I thought we had the perfect mix, but something happened that I hadn't really expected. I found it was getting harder to bring new ideas and songs to the band and get them to be played how I felt they should. We were an amazing band, but as the new members settled in, they wanted more and more of a say over everything. This was not unreasonable, but I felt that not everything they were suggesting was particularly helpful or good. I think the moment when it became difficult was when Chris joined. He was a superb musician, but he had a different vision to me of what a band should be, Neither of us was wrong, but Chris lacked the drive to run a band, but he had lots of things he was not happy with. As he was a great musician, it became harder and harder to argue my case. In hindsight, I realise that before he joined, we had a perfect mix.I thought Chris was the final ingredient, but in truth, it was just a bit too much sugar in the mix. The problem was that Chris was too much of a perfectionist. I am not. Chris would be upset if the band played bum notes at gigs. I didn't care so long as we went down a storm, 

What happened was we lost momentum. Because Chris was a perfectionist, everyone started to question everything. Although Chris was technically right that the songs could be better, we'd played a sol out Dingwalls just before he joined and blown the doors off it. The highlight of the set was Action Shock that was just two chords repeated all of the way through. It's secret was that it was simple. It took me a very long time to realise that our secret weapon was always the simplicity. It worked for the Ramones, it worked for us. Whenever we tried to make things more musically complicated or cleverer, it became dull. 

The experience with Chris was difficult for me. He was a lovely bloke, did a great job and was absolutely committed to making The False Dots a better band. However it changed the dynamic and although we were musically better, we lost momentum and within six months it had all fallen apart. I must add that at the time Chris joined, we also took on a manager, who did nothing and caused all sorts of issues. It also didn't help that I was sharing a house with Venessa and Bill and I am the worlds worst housemate. By the time we split, they were well and truly sick of me. But creatively, the change of dynamic made it impossible to write and develop songs in the way we had. Since the start of the band, the way we've developed songs has been the same. I'd sketch out some chords and the lyrics and we'd play them through as a band. Once we had a basic structure, we'd work on refining them. Chris thought we should work them our before we played them as a band and get all manner of fancy bits in. Recently, I was given a video of the band playing live at The Bald Faced Stag in Burnt Oak. It was the full set. As we were playing a local pub, there were a few covers, the songs we'd been playing for ages and a couple of the new songs we'd written with Chris. I was struck by the fact that although the songs were more complicated, they lacked the hooks and energy that the older songs had. Perhaps the most interesting thing of all was that I simply had no memory of them at all.  I have always believed that the 1984 version of The False Dots was brilliant and should have been signed. I think getting Chris in at the time was the right thing, it was a tragedy we couldn't make it work. Watching the video of Venessa performing only reinforces that. Here is Action Shock with her at the Bald Faced Stag. 

Fast forward to 2026. The False Dots are still going. We are now a five piece band. This time last year, we added Derek Treadwell. Derek plays percussion and does backing vocals. It adds a new dimension to the sound. I've always believed that percussion is a secret weapon. A tambourine or wood block can lift a chorus, and having a bit more vocal welly on choruses makes a huge difference. Since I took over main vocal duties from Allen Ashley in 2021, I've become increasingly more aware that it is restricting playing guitar and singing. It is hard to be as expressive as I'd like to be as a singer. I have thought about either getting another guitarist, or getting a bassist and switching Fil back to guitar. However, I am also well aware of the risks of putting too much egg in the pudding.

My advice to any young bands and musicians, who think they need to "develop their sound" by adding extra band members is to ask yourself whether the band has momentum and if you are still finding inspiration. If you are, then be very wary of disrupting it. The False Dots played at Nambucca last week. We played a brand new song called Cut Priced Hedonism. I am rather happy with it! Mind you, it would probably sound better with Chris's keyboards on!

Social media commentary - Hatred will destroy you if you are not careful

 Do you remember June 2000? I do for many reasons. My son was one month old back then. My Mum was still alive, healthy and enjoying life. Manchester City were promoted to the Premier League, having achieved back to back promotions. I was making big plans for my studio with my business partner Ernie Ferebee. I had just started to put The False Dots together after a 10 year break, to "record a few of the old nubers for posterity". I had an extremely lucrative log term IT contract, suppoorting POS systems for Streamline. In short,, life could not have been much better. But little known to me, a mate of mine was about to change the world, literally. I wasn't a blogger. There was no such thing as social media, as we understand it now. But Steve Pankhurst, who I'd been at Orange Hill School with launched Friends Reunited that month. I joined early on. I got in touch with a bunch of old school mates. Oddly, there were lots from Orange Hill, but none from FCHS! 

It was wonderful. Within a year, we'd have a reunion. I was a big fan. A few years later, Facebook was launched. Again, I was an early adopter. I saw the potential for band and business promotion as well as keeping up with friends. When Twitter was launched, I thought it was a waste of time. I was eventually persuaded to join in 2011,  I think I've regretted it eber since. I soon realised that Twitter offered endless opportunities for Twitter Trolls to spend their life being unpleasant to everyone. For such people, a victory was to force a nice, pleasant, worthy soul to shut their account. 

In Barnet, we all laughed at our local ogre, Tory Politician Brian Coleman, as he simply blocked everyone he took a mild dislike to; We thought he lacked gumption. I hate to admit it, but he was probably right. Friends Reunited disappeared. Twitter became X, where hatred is turbocharged. Facebook morphed into something indecribably awful. I still use it, as I still have a band and a business, and occasionally I see something interesting, however 90% of what it serves up is stuff from people I don't know and are not interested in, adverts or on the odd occasion I actually see something from someone I actually like, they are off on one. Oddly, when I actually look at friends accounts, most of what they post is stuff I'd actually like to see, but the algorythm never shows me. 

The biggest problem for me is the sheer anger and hatred of much of what people are posting.  The venom directed at people like SIr Keir Starmer, Kemi Badenoch, Andy Burnham et all, is to me vile. By all means criticise their policies. I write a blog that critcises the policies of all manner of people, but if I don't know someone, I refrain from personal criticism. Now you may say "You hypocrite what about the bile you poured on local Tories like Brian Coleman on your blog?" This was a central plank of Brian Colemans defence, when I took him to the Barnet Council Standards Committee. Coleman stated that I'd been personally abusive about his private life. Barnet Council paid £10,000 for a lawyer to defend him. He lost.. The reason? Sure I'd criticised him for his spending of public money, the endless gifts in his hospitality register, his behaviour in council, his arrogance towards members of the public, but I'd never actually mentioned his private life. I have to admit, when he assaulted Helen Michael, who is a good friend, I widened my attack, but not on his personal life. I just felt his behaviour was not compatable with being a public servant.

The bile directed on Facebook and Twitter, the AI genereated Memes, the lies people spread, the anger, the hatred are, to me, deplorable. What upsets me most though, is I see keyboard warriors, who are retreating into a hate filled echo chamber where anything goes. Often the claim to be patriots, but to me , good manners and tolerance are a fundamental part of the British/English character. We don't like bullies. We don't do bilious hatred. But Social Media has seemingly made it all OK.

The worst aspect is the sheer futility of screaming in an echo chamber. All your mates agree with you, so you think its OK and you are winning. In truth, you are just damaging your own mental health and losing touch with reality. By all means say if you think Andy Burnham is wrong to seek investment from the owners of Man City or to grant drilling licenses in the North Sea. However a soon as you stray from criticism of policies, and into the personal, you lose the arguement. Shouting the loudest may well make you think you are right, but in truth, it simply means you've lost control of yourself and the argument. I was accused of being 'over educaated' this week. Odd really, I never went to Uni and when I left school and became a painter/decorator for three years. But becasue I stay calm and don't get cross, people seem to think I am "over educated". I'm happy to argue policies with friends. However if they get cross when they lose the argument, I'd suggest that it is all a bit counter productive. 

I look back to June 2000. The world was a better place then. 

If something doesn't make sense, then you don't have all of the facts

 

My Dad used to be an air accident investigation officer for the RAF, at the end of the war. At home, we have an old biscuit tin, with copies of pictures of crashes he investigated.  I was fascinated by some of the stories Dad told me of crashes. Dad was a superb engineer and advised me that he never investigated a crash where there was a single point of failure. It was always the result of a culmination of events. He told me that flying is the safest form of transport, because every single crash is investigated and the results mean that every crash makes flying safer in future.

He said that it was almost always pretty clear what had happened and why. However, he recalled one crash, where a plane's engine blew up in mid air, resulting in a catastrophic failure of the airframe and the death of all of the crew. The crew were experienced, the maintenance records were spot on. The debris was scattered over a large area, but it was pretty clear that something had fundamentally failed in the engine. Examination of the recovered engine did not indicate a fundamental problem. It was not a new engine, but well within its operational lifetime and was a reliable model. The more Dad looked, the less sense it made. After a couple of days at the base, he'd made no progress. He knew he was missing something, but even though he was experienced, he didnt know what. When he retired to the officers mess for a beer at the end of the day, he noticed something odd. Usually people were more than happy to chat to investigators, especially pilots. They knew that a pilots life was dependent on good procedures and investigations. However no one was that keen to talk to him, apart from the base commander, who sat with him and chatted away merrily. Dad noticed that the other pilots were reacting in an odd manner, when they entered the mess and saw him with the CO. It was not the usual reaction. Dad was a good reader of people and body language. He also noticed that several pilots were having a drink and then leaving the mess. He realised they were not comfortable.

Dad was becoming rather suspicious, so after a few beers, he made his apologies to the CO and said he had an early start. He then went to the gatehouse and asked where the nearest pub was. He was told it was about 200 yards down the road. Dad took a stroll down and was unsurprised to find the pilots, who had left the mess, all having a beer. When Dad entered, they all did a double take. He explained that as an Aussie, he was not really one for drinking with the top brass and as he'd been an operational pilot, he always felt better in the company of aircrew. He bought a round and started regailing them with stories about his crew and his escape from the POW camp. After a while, he was accepted as one of the boys.

Once he had their trust, one of them said "You know this isn't the first crash here, I hope it doesn't get swept under the carpet again".  As Dad had suspected, there was an element to this he'd not been told. He didn't tell me what that was, but the crews told him of their suspicions,  what to look for and where to look. It became clear that there were serious issues with the way that the engine had been maintained. The CO had been complicit. I am not sure what happened to all involved, but Dad said it was not good.

Dad told me the story when I was quite young. When I was working for BT, I was having issues with my then boss. As he often did, he revisied the story. He explained another aspect to it. He said that the CO of the base sounded like my then boss. The base commander was someone who had favourites and protected them, whereas he was happy to shaft good people, who he didn't like. It turned out that when there had been a previous crash, he scapegoated someone he didn't like. The reason the crews were cautious of this, was because they knew. They were coming to the end of their time in the RAF and they knew he'd cause problems if they said to much.Dad then gave some very sound advice.  He said "If there is someone in the department who is not much good, but seems to be doing better than they should, be careful, as these sort or people thrive by having snakes in the grass". Dad also said "Whereever you work, make friends with the tea lady and the cleaners, they are the only people who really know what is going on, and those with arrogance and power ignore them". 

That conversation was 40 years ago. It has stood me in good stead. The number of times in my life I have been mystified by situatations, only to find the missing piece of the jigsaw, often from the cleaner or the tea lady. With all of the information, usually it all becomes blindingly obvious. Dad also explained that when shenanigans are going on, it is always for one of three reasons. Money, sex and power. People behave very badly if they get a sniff of any of these. If something doesn't seem right, ask yourself "Is money, sex or power involved?". Sometimes it might even be two or three of them. Once you figure that out, work out who is benifitting and how. It is quite sad really, how often so many horrible situations are created over such unimportant things, but that is life. This weekend, Poppies went on sale at The Mill Hill Services Club. I always think of Dad when I see them. He died nearly 40 years ago, I still miss him. I count mylucky stars to have had such wise council in my life.