The Sunday Reflection #61 - Whilst the Sun is shining, enjoy it

 I awoke this morning at 7.44am. I don't think I've ever felt as old and knackered. All I really wanted to do was stay in bed and sleep for another couple of hours. At the age of 63 I am starting to feel my age, esepcially when I have to do physically exerting tasks. Yesterday, I had a PA system to break down and unload in Cricklewood and bring back to the studio and I had to do this without assistance. Some of the speakers are pretty heavy and had to be lugged from the staging area to the car park. Years of football have taken their toll on my knees and ankles and this morning I could really feel it. I love my job, running a business, etc. However sometimes reality forces you to admit that maybe you need a little help. Ten years ago, the lugging would not have really been a problem. I didn't take someone with me, as the festival was a community activity and I was doing my best to keep the costs down. I should've added £50 to the bill though, to bring someone with me. I was suffering. 

Anyway, much as it was the last thing I wanted to do, I forced myself out of bed, into the shower, had a quick cuppa and did a painful stroll (knees and aankle) to the Sacred Heart for 8.30am mass. If you are not familiar with my habits, I am what you might call a rather bad Roman Catholic. I am a sinner (and sometime a bit too proud of it). But I do believe in keeping the boss upstairs happy. Some days, it can be difficult to drag myself out of bed to mass. Today was one of them. The church is being refurbished, so mass was in the hall. I found myself sitting by the exit, which looks out on the bus stop and Mill Hill wines. No disprespect to Fr Chinedu, who says a lovely mass, but I found my mind wandering. The door was open for ventilation. I found myself observing the tree outside Mill Hill Wines. It is a glorious morning and the Sun was shining, There was still a chill in the air. I saw a crow land on the top of the tree. He let out a loud 'caw' and another crow joined him. I felt a twang of jealousy. They clearly were enjoying the sunshine, without a care in the world. For them, the changing season will bring challenges. Winter will bring dark cold times, for them it can't be much fun. We have electricity, central heating and can put a coat on. The crows have same feathers in winter and summer. But they clearly were keen to enjoy themselves today. They have got the right attitude, enjoy the last days of good weather. 

My mind then turned to breakfast. Should I go to see my mate Gerard, the butcher on Daws Lane and get some bacon and sausages for a fry up. This would be a wonderful way of lifting my maliase and following the example of the crows, in enjoying life, whilst I can. Then I thought "what about Clare". My missus does not eat meat. I could make her a fried egg, but... I then thought "I can go to Yummies and get some onion bagels, some cream cheese and some nice dry smoked salmon and we can all be happy". I looked at the crow and his mate, still up the tree. Crows are social animals and like to hang out together in a gang called a murder. Even crows need company and companionship. 

So when mass finished, off I went to Yummies, purchased our breakfast and started to walk down Mill Hill Broadway, back home. My knee and ankle pain had slightly dissapated. The morning was glorious. As I walked past Iceland, there were huge trolleys blocking most of the street, full of rubbish. As I went around them, a small boy, I'd guess 4 or 5 hurtled around the corner, nearly crashing into me on a scooter. He turned around and sped off towards his mum who was by Smiths. He clearly was getting a real buzz out of hurtling up and down the Broadway and in truth I was a bit jealous that I seldom get such a bizz from such simple things. We grow up and we think about things far too much.

I got home, made breakfast for Clare and my son and I realised how fortunate I was to have forced myself out of bed this morning. It really was hard, but it was one of those moments when I just found the sheer joy of living to be exhilarating. The 40 odd minutes a week I spend at mass, may well be the only time I have to be truly reflective and appreciative of this amazing world we live in.

The Sun is shining today, it may be a while before we get such a glorious weekend day again. Do yourself a favour and make the most of it. 

I'll end with a little ditty I wrote about Sundays. I love the footage in this of Old Mill Hill!

The Saturday List #498 - My top ten favourite playground games at school

 Blimey. In two more lists, we'll have hit 500 lists. List #1 was published on 9th June 2012. More of that over the next two episodes in the journey. I am surprised that I haven't done this one before. I first went to school back in 1967. As I was an August baby, my mum held me back until Easter. I was welcomed to Sister Rosalie's baby class. My mate, who lived up the road was my guide "that's Jim and he's tough, that's Rosy and she smells, that's Frank and he's a bit thick" (Names have been changed to spare any blushes). I was at school for the next 14 years. Most of that time was waiting for one four things. Playtime, Dinner time, home time and football in PE. All of the schools I went to had bells of some sort to tell you when it was the start or end of playtime. At St Vincents, my Primary school, the bell was a hand held bell, rung by a Nun. The nuns would often come out and stand there for five minutes before ringing it, just to rub it in that playtime was over. But what did we do at playtime? Here's my list and a few memories.

1. Football. St Vincents had limited playground space. It was tarmac'd and on a slope. Only the eldest class, what we call Junior 4 and is now year six boys played football, unless you were exceptionally good and you'd be invited. I was rubbish so  I had to wait. Parents hated it. We were always scuffing shoes, tearing trousers, cutting knees. Nothing stopped us. At Finchley Catholic, I broke my nose in Y2 when I tackled Jim Lynch and he landed on my head. Jim was not liked by the school and they tried to get me to say he did it deliberately so they could expel him. He didn't and I wasn't going to lie. Jim was large and a tough nut. After that, he was also a mate. There was always a premium on playground space for football, but when I could, I loved it.

2. Bundles. This was a big part of FCHS. Basically, myself and all of my mates would jump on someone, forming a pile of humanity. You'd bash and kick them and everyone else, but not very hard. I don't think anyone actually got hurt, if they did, they never admitted it. Our class was particularly keen on this form of entertainment.

3. Penny up the wall. A form of gambling. You'd nick some chalk, draw a line about six feet from a wall and take turns to throw pennies at it. You'd have rounds and at each rounds end, the closest would keep the pennies from that round. It was banned by the school. My Dad caught me practising and showed me a great technique, so I'd more often than not get a bag of chips on the way home with the profits at Tally Ho Corner.

4. Skidding down the playground in the ice. At St Vincents, when it was icy or snowed, the playground would become a proper ski slope. Us boys would love this. The teachers would hate it and do everything to prevent us from doing it. We'd take the opportunity when we could and it was a small victory, usually rewarded with the slipper if caught.

5. Kiss chase. This was the one game that boys and girls played together at St Vincents. Basically someone was it and had to chase members of the opposite sex and give them a kiss, then they became it. Sister Gabriel at St Vincents stamped it out, when she caught two kids at the moment of the kiss. Next day, she got them on stage, in front of the whole school and made them repeat the kiss. At the time, we were horrified. Later both became cult heroes. You'd have to ask them if they were damaged by the experience. No one else ever risked it.

6. It. This was a version of kiss chase, without the kiss or the girls. Someone was it, until they tagged someone else. If you were it when the bell rung, you were a social pariah for the rest of the day!

7. Playground fights. This was a thing at FCHS. Two kids would fall out. They'd start fighting. A big ring would form around them and everyone would shout "fight fight fight". At some point, around 1976, a new custom formed, where the ring would all spit at the two people fighting. I was unlucky enough to fall foul of this. I came second in the fight, I got covered in gob and I got the cane. By the time myself and the guy I'd been fighting with had left the headmasters office, we had both become sworn pacifists. All of my classmates (as well as his) insisted we have a rematch, as it had not ended decisively. He took two weeks off ill. By the time he returned, it was forgotten. I cannot even remember what it was about. He was in a different class and I got on OK with him. 

8. Singing songs. When it rained, which it seemed to do for 70% of my schooling, we were not allowed out. Our class would sing songs, changing the lyrics of the songs of the day to be derogatory ditties about members of our class. The two I remember are the versions of Gary Glitters Rock and Roll Pt 2 and also Led Zeppelins It's nobodys fault but mine. I will not say what our versions were called. It really isn't politically correct.

9. British Bulldog. The rules are that "Bulldogs" stand in the middle of a play area while the other players ("runners") line up at one end. When the Bulldogs yell, "British Bulldog!", the runners charge to the opposite end, attempting to avoid being tagged or tackled. Any tagged runner becomes a Bulldog for the next round, and the game continues until only one runner remains, who is the winner. It wasn't popular at FCHS, as the majority of people were from an Irish background and hated anything British related. I was never a fast runner, so it never really interested me much TBH, but I'd join in at St Vincents.

10. Putting people in the pig food bins. At the back of the kitchens at FCHS, there were large bins on wheels that they'd put all of the waste food on. We called them the pig bins. I have no idea if the contents were actually fed to pigs. Our class developed an unhealthy relationship with the pig bins. We'd ambush people we didn't like and throw them in. Then we realised that we could get a classmate to stand up in one and we could push it around at high speed. On one occasion, we liberated one from the school and were pushing it down Woodside Grange Road at High speed, with a classmate pretending to be a tank commander, with his head poking out of the hatch on top. We lost control of it, as a car came around a corner. The bin crashed into that car, then a few others, causing a lot of damage. We all legged it back to school. The headmaster held a special assembly in the playground and demanded that the culprits owned up. The car owner was there. He asked the car owner what colour tie the culprits were wearing. He said red. Class 5b wore purple so us, along with the other four forms who didn't have red ties were dismissed. As we didn't like the class with red ties, we treated it as a double victory. The boy who'd been in the pigbin was miraculously unscathed. We were then told that interfering with pig bins was an expellable offence. 

Sometimes, I think it's a bloody miracle we all made it through unscathed. In truth, I think that most of the break time at FCHS, we just hung around doing nothing, chatting. Subjects would be the weeks football, what was on TOTP, whatever scandal was going on in the school (our favourite was when we caught two teachers in flagrante). The kids that were prone to be bullied would hang around the school library, where there was always a teacher on duty. The kids who smoked, would slope off into the bushes. If you did woodwork or metalwork, you could do extra work in the workshops (we didn't). Towards the end of my time at FCHS, I had got into punk rock and a small group of fellow fans formed and would just discuss music. Another group, who decided they were 'Teds' formed. There was a bit of antagonism between us. When I moved to Orange Hill in 1978, there were a 'bunch of Teds'. I was wary, until they found out I was a punk. They were Boz and Phil from The Polecats. They are mates to this day. Once I got into music, I lost interest in playground games. 

Rock and Roll Stories #45 - So what happens at a band rehearsal?

 Rehearsals? For most bands who do original material, this is how we spend most of our time. If you don't enjoy rehearsing, don't join an originals band. I've only ever fleetingly been in bands that played covers, mostly to help mates out, usually playing bass. When you are in a covers band, you get a list of songs. learn to play them, then go out and earn a load of money playing them. If you gig regularly, you almost never rehearse, except when you decide to freshen up the set, have a new member, have a big show and want to get it right or have had a break. 

For originals bands it's different. We are constantly writing new songs, trying out new ideas, swapping the set around, etc. I've no idea how many thousands of hours I've spent in my life rehearsing, but oddly I enjoy it just as much as I ever have. When the band first got together in 1979, it took us the best part of two years to get to the point where we felt ready to gig. This was for two reasons, the first was that we couldn't play and the second was the constant churn of musicians.  Our first gig was supposed to be in August 1979 supporting the UK Subs in Derby, but our drummer got thrown through a window in a violent assault and severed a tendon. We split up for three months and then it took another six months to get to the situation where we felt we were ready, with a new line up. All of that time, we rehearsed 2-3 times a week. 

When we eventually started gigging, we soon realised that songs that work well in rehearsal (ie in our heads) don't necessarily work well with an audience. It wasn't until 1982 and our tour of Sweden, that I that we were on top of the gigging thing. We got by on energy and attitude, but having strong songs and being tight is really the key to getting on. That comes from rehearsals and gigging regularly.  For me, it is important to keep writing new material, to make the set interesting, to constantly improve. This is done at rehearsals and its importance cannot be emphasised strongly enough. Over the course of time, I've learned that there are three distinct types of rehearsal. Sometimes, time constraints mean we have to combine them. I am not a fan of long rehearsals, although if we were ever asked to support the Rolling Stones or perform on Jools Holland, that is exactly what we'd do. 

So what are the three types of rehearsal? The first, the bedrock of getting an originals band together, is a song writing rehearsal. Our first year was pretty much doing this. Often, we'll play a few songs to warm up, have a cup of tea and then spend the rest of the rehearsal working on the new song(s). We may have a jam at the end to let off steam. These days, when we rehearse a new song, as the songwriter, I will give the band a set of lyrics and the basic chords and explain the arrangement as I see it. I am blessed with three creative band members, Tom Hammond on Trumpet, vocals and occasionally percussion, Fil Ross on Bass and Graham Ramsey on drums. We will have a discussion and then try and then play it through. All members give opinions, suggest changes and then we will play through it. Once we get it right, we will record it. In the early days, that was done on a portable mono cassette recorder. These days, we video it on a mobile phone. Often I will post short clips on Tik Tok and Youtube, so that we get some sort of feedback. This is what we were doing last night, with a new song called "We don't live in America". We also had to have a quick run through of the set, as we have a gig coming up.

The second type of rehearsal we have is a gig rehearsal. I've always worked on the theory that you should keep such rehearsals as short as possible. Just run through the set once, as you would at a gig and then come back to any issues you want to address. Play it as you would a gig, so do the intro banter as well. This is an important part of gigging so practicing it is actually important. 

The third type of rehearsal is for recording sessions. These will take songs and do a deep dive to ensure that we get it right when we play it. These days, as I have my own studio we do more work in the studio, but when we were time and cash limited, these were key. 

So, getting back to last night, what did we do. We scheduled to meet at 8,30pm. I arrived early, printed song in hand, set up, had a tea,etc. Graham and Fil turned up, then Tom. I spent five minutes explaining the concept of the song. I'd messaged Tom earlier in the week to give him a heads up. Tom then gave some excellent feedback. We started with the intro. It starts just with drums, then bass then Trumpet. My guitar comes in, then we break down into the a chorus. When an idea is solid, it generally comes together quickly. I've learned that if songs don't come together quickly, they probably won't work well live. We spent about an hour getting it to the point where it was worth recording. I set up the phone and we did it in one take. It wasn't perfect, but it was pretty damn good IMHO. 

We then had a tea break. Graham and Fil had a cigarette, Tom and I got a tea. We then crashed through the set for the next gig. We were done by 10.45. We had a quick chat as we left and I was home by 11pm. 

This morning, I put a little clip of the intro together on Tik Tok. You might recognise the intro to the song. This is very much intended as a 'get the audience going' song for our live shows. 

@falsedotsrog We don’t live in America! The False Dots grooving out in rehearsal last night! #funk #jazz #ska #reggae #livemusic ♬ original sound - FalseDotsRog

For me, one of the best feelings in the world is conceiving an idea and then watching it come together. The proof of the pudding will be when we perform it live. Nothing makes me happier, at the age of 63 is to make the sort of music that would have excited me when I was sixteen. I suspect that the song will evolve. That his how things work with the False Dots. An example is the song "Electric Ballroom" which Tom sings. This song was originally conceived and played in its old format at our first gig in December 1980. We dropped it shortly after, but I've always had an itch to revisit it. I rewrote the lyrics (Pete Conway wrote the original draft) as I felt it was dated and didn't really mean anything anymore. We also made it a song that builds up over its three verses. Last night, was the best we've ever played it. It feels so good when you have that experience with a song. The feeling that you get when a song works, the band is totally on it and you feel it has been well and truly nailed.

At one point, Tom was enjoying Fil's bassplaying so much, he started videoing it mid song. Some feat as he was playing trumpet at the same time! When I started the band, I thought that by the time I was 63, I'd be smoking a pipe and sitting at home in my slippers. Nothing could be further from the truth. I couldn't be happier with that!

In the new world, the terms left and right are meaningless

I've been deliberately not writing this blog for a few months now. The one thing I always said I wouldn't do is pretend to be a political pundit spouting baseless opinions. What I'm about to write, I've been thinking for the best part of this year, but I now think the facts support what I am going to say.

With the rise of Reform, the political situation in the USA, the events in the middle east, many people have been forced to shift from very long held positions and reinvent their political stance. The odd thing is that whilst this is happening in people's front rooms, in pubs and clubs and in the queue for the bus, the one place it seemingly isn't happening is at the top table of our political parties. The leaders of Labour, Conservatives, Lib Dems, Reform, The Greens, etc all are stuck in the old mindset.

Until the election before last, we largely had three national parties that mattered. The big two of Labour and The Tories and the Lib Dems, who every so often were in a position to hold the balance of power, most recently 2010-2015. We thought we knew what each party stood for.  At the last election, Reform got a hell of a lot of votes, but were to badly organised to transform this into actual seats. The Tories seemed to give up, it is a wonder to me that they got the number of seats they did. Labour ran a brilliant campaign, in terms of organisation, where not a lot of votes, gave them a super majority. The Lib Dems also rana  classic Lib Dem campaign. If the Tories hadn't given up the ghost, they would probably have held the balance of power. Labour very quickly learned that winning is actually the easy bit. Governing is a hell of a lot harder. The Tories learned this after 2015. Cameron, May, Johnson, Truss and Sunak all soon found that actually running a country is a difficult job. In the year 2025, it is almost impossible. 30 years ago, we had to wait for the nightly news before we knew what was happening in the world. Now, a Prime Minister can stand up for question time and with Twitter (etc) by the end of the session, the whole political situation will have changed. It is almost impossible to be properly briefed in such a world. 

Historically, we have divided politics into three blocks. These are left, right and centre. I used to believe that the left believed in social justice, equality, wealth redistribution from the rich to the poor and state control of key industries. As to the right? They believed in free trade, market force, self sufficiency and dereuglation. The centre believes in a mix of the two. Labour has always been (whilst in power) centre left and the Tories centre right. True believers on both sides of the divide have always been frustrated, as neither party ever really followed a hard line agenda. Even the most doctrinaire Tory leader ever, Margaret Thatcher was far more of a centerist than her supporters want to believe. This is a fact, not an opinion. She never dismantled the NHS, she never privatised rail and the post office. She never reall cut benefits to any great extent. The problem for a centerist party such as the Lib Dems always was that both Tory and Labour had stolen their patch. In coalition, they got the blame for all the Tories worst policies (hiking tuition fees), and the Tories took the credit for their most successful ones (raising tax thresholds for lowest band tax payers). 

Now however, we are seeing something completely different happening. To me, it is rather odd. The rise of reform has seen two rather contradictary patterns. The first is that tradition Labour voters, who would never vote Tory are defecting to Reform. This is fuelled by the notion that Labour is doing nothing, except shafting the ordinary man in the street. What I find bizarre is that Labour's leadership seemingly cannot be bothered to address this view. There is a narritive that Labour is so obsessed with small, vocal pressure groups, fringe movements and other vested interests, that they have lost interest in their core vote. As Reform are not Tories, the core vote are finding the message of disaffection attractive. As the Tories did nothing for them for fourteen years, the Tories are simply not credible as an alternative. The other strand is that a string of, mostly oddball, Tories from the more right wing fringes of the Tory party, have defected to Reform. You would think that these people would totally put off traditional Labour voters, but I detect a sort of "we are as fed up as they are" mentality, so at the moment it is being ignored.

There is however another trend. We have seen this recently with the flag protests and also with Stephen Yaxley-Lennon (AKA Tommy Robinson) rallies. I have watched quite a lot of footage of Tommy Robinson. The more I see, the more the I think that Robinson is a classic example of the old saying "in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king". I personally think Yaxley-Lennon is a fraud, anyone who changes their name to sound less posh is a fraud in my book. I have a posh name and I'd never change it. But what he is doing is saying a lot of things that chime with the heartlands of Britain. As he is the only person who is actually confronting difficult issues head on, many who previously identified as being left wing and Labour get what he has to say. There is absolutely no push back from Labour, who seem terrified to raise these issues, let alone confront them. In laymans terms, Sir Keir Starmer has gifted Yaxley-Lennon an open goal. Starmer seems to think that if you ignore difficult problems, they go away. The demise of Peter Mandleson and Angela Rayner is proof that burying your head in the sand simply doesn't work. 

What seems to have happened is that the tradition left vote, is now leaning towards the right. But what has happened on the right is perhaps slightly more interesting. The traditional position of the British right, which is pro trade, pro business, pro self sufficiancy, pro free speach and anti regulation is falling apart. Traditionally, it was the Tories, not Labour who encouraged immigration, as this gave businesses cheap labour. The pro self sufficiency mantra is also not part of the Yaxley-Lennon mantra. His appeal is very much based on saying things like "council houses should be given to British (white) people" rather than migrants. The right used to hate the idea of anyone, especially British people living in council housing. The right invented the stigma around living in a council house. Thatcher cemented her position by selling council housing cheaply to tenants, as she hated the whole thing. That was the seed of the current crisis.

The only major party that, to my mind at least, has a long term consistent position is the Lib Dems. Being staunchly centrist is something that they have not deviated from. Labour? I have no clue what they stand for. They have a super majority, but nothing they are doing is vaguely left wing. They are not interested in reversing privatisation, they have done nothing to lift the burden of cost from students with loans. I have no idea whether the NHS is safe with them. It is probably safer than it would be by any party funded by American billionaires, but that is not a vote of confidence. Kemi Badenoch has managed, in less than a year, to make the Tories seem completely irrelevant. She has accidentally moved the party to the left, mainly by making many of her most right wing supporters decamp to Reform. And then there is Reform. We tend to think of Reform as a Right wing party, but some of what Nigel Farage is saying is actually rather left wing. Clamping down on immigration is a long term aim of the Trades Unions, as the lack of cheap labour forces up wages. Other policies such as abolishing the House of Lords, abolishing interest on student loans, banning the UK from exporting waste seem to me to be more Jeremy Corbyn than Jeremy Corbyn.

I am not sure that the term left or right wing mean anything at all anymore. To me, the biggest problem is that Great Britain simply doesn't seem to have any serious politicians. To me Starmer is a lawyer in the wrong job. He's clever, but he is not a politician. Only possibly Andy Burnham actually looks like a politician with a grip on reality in Labour. Kemi Badenoch? The Tories should sack her tomorrow and simply replace her with James Cleverly. He is far from perfect but at least he is someone who can string two sentences together without making everyone in the room roll their eyes. Ed Davey is a good leader of the Lib Dems, if they want to always be a protest party. Then there is Nigel Farage. The more I see of him, the clearer it is to me that the man is a complete charlatan. He has had a big influx of Tories, who I assume will want to actually run the party as a professional political organisation. Farage is very good at being a fringe opposition figure. When he faces proper scrutiny, he becomes a different beast. I've no idea where this will lead us. I suspect that if any of the non reform parties get their act together, they might well clean up. I expect Reform to implode over the next two years. If you look at the likes of Anne Widdecombe, Nadine Dorries and the other Tories who have joined them, it is hard to see them ever evolving a harmonious party and winning strategy. They will need to do more than not be Labour to actually win a general election. Some Reform types are getting very excited about the idea of an early general election. The one thing I can guarantee is that turkeys don't vote for Xmas and whilst Labour are behind in the polls, with a super majority, their MP's will happily keep the wages rolling in. And as for Yaxley-Lennon and his dreams of an English civil war. It won't happen. We are British and we just don't do that. 

I asked for a kiss, you gave me a box of snakes!

 Dreams. What do they mean? Last night, I had a dream that it was my birthday.  We were having a party in our house and I asked my wife for a kiss. She replied that she had something far better. She gave me a lovely box wrapped in extravagent paper. I was excited, but when I opened it, it was a box of snakes. As I am extremely phobic of snakes, I actually woke up in a panic. My wife had already got up. When I came down stairs she simply laughed and said "that is quite funny". 

What does it mean? I have no idea. My mother used to say that if you dreamed of snakes, it meant there would be a death. What does a whole box of them mean? As you might imagine, I have felt slightly ill at ease all morning. I very rarely dream of snakes. What could have brought that on? Well there are several things. I went for a beer and a curry last night with a mate of mine. I sometimes have vivid dreams when I've had a curry and beer, so that is the mundane answer. Another reason? On the way home, I got a message, out of the blue, from a former friend, who I have no wish to associate with, following some absolutely awful behaviour on his part. We have not been in contact all year, but out of the blue, bold as brass, I get a message as though nothing has happened. I was absolutely furious when I got in. My wife told me I should simply ignore it. I do listen to her at such moments, so this was the course of action I chose. It wasn't my preferred course of action, but probably the most sensible. 

When I got in, I watched the news. Perhaps one of the biggest snakes in modern times was the top story. To me, it beggars belief that America, the richest and most powerful nation on earth have chosen a leader with so little personal integrity. I've never really wanted to be the King. Can you imagine having to invite such people around for dinner and to have to be nice to him. A mate observed yesterday that he's had a lot of experience dealing with people like that, having Andrew as his brother.

Then there is Facebook. When I joined Facebook, all I really wanted was to keep up with what my friends were doing. These days, it almost never shows me what my friends are up to. It decides what it thinks I want to see. Oddly, this most days is videos of snakes. It turns my stomach, but I am too thick to get it to stop. This morning, oddly, it wasn't snakes, it was a man hitting a large cat with a chair. To be honest, that was more sickening than snakes. After I'd navigated away from tehe page, I realised I should have reported it. It was not a UK clip. If it was I'd have reported it to the police. 

It made me realise that there are worse things than snakes. When I was a child, my Dad, who was born in the outback of Australia, used to scare the life out of me with stories of poisonous snakes. That may be where the phobia came from. One day, I mentioned that I was terrified of snakes. Dad replied that they are nothing to be scared of. He said they are just animals and if you treat them respectfully, they leave you alone. He then said do you want to know what the worst monster of all is? I said "Yes". He

picked my up and said "I will show you, close your eyes". He picked me up and we went into another room. He said "Open your eyes". To my shock, I was looking in a mirror. He then said "all the worst, most terrible things are done by people. People Like Hitler casually killed millions of people, no animal has ever done anything like that". I was too young to understand.

It is quite attractive to think of Trump as some sort of despot, but he was democratically elected and his party has a majority in the US parliaments. He hasn't set up death camps, he hasn't jailed opponents. It is pretty clear that he lacks the gumption to actually stand up to other leaders who are breaking international law. The only people who get a kicking under the Trumpian world are those who can't defend themselves. Yesterday, he launced a £15 billion lawsuit against the New York Times. This is a man who lectured Sir Keir Starmer on 'Free Speech'. Why? He didn't like what the NYT said about him. He is extraordinarily thin skinned. 

He craves the attention of despicable people. Karl Marx wrote "history repeats itself, first as tragedy, then as farce". I don't know if he had a crystal ball and saw Trump in it. I often wonder how Trump thinks history will judge him. An unkind friend suggested "rather harshly, because most of the people who support him aren't smart enough to write history books".  The strange thought occurred to me that I could draw an anolgy between my dream and Donald Trump. I suspect that from my perspective, voting for Donald Trump was like asking for a box of snakes, but getting a box of worms. Much as Trump might view himself as a King Cobra, to me, he's actually more of a lugworm in bling. (pictures courtesy of @Grok). 

How the rest of us see him

How Trump sees himself

AI - the end or a new beginning?

How old am I? I am old enough to remember the world when AI was a pipedream. I am old enough to remember when AI was not called AI. I am old enough to have worked on computers before they were connected to the Internet. BAck in 1983, I worked on a system that is probably now what we'd describe as AI. Back then it was called Decision Support software. It ran on a DEC PDP11/34 computer, that had 248KB of memory. It lived in an air conditioned machine room and the system was the size of three large fridges. The software, which my company (SPL International) developed was for a multinational oil company. You fed in all manner of data, such as the geological make up, the political stability and the transport infrastructure and the system would tell you whether it was a good place to look for oil deposits. 

The company had a subdivision called "British Robotics". They produced software for British Leyland, which automated car building. In the 1970's British Leyland management believed the way to defeat the unions was to automate factories. There was a pipe dream that you'd have a dark factory, where the bits went in and the cars came out. There would be no staff. Here we are 40 years on, according to Google AI, 182,000 still work in motor manufacturing.

I was talking to a mate who works in finance and is just about to retire. He tells me that within a few years, people won't actually work in finance, it will all be AI. He reminded me of what one of SPL's salesmen used to tell our customers "Spend enough money with us and you won't need staff!". What I have seen as IT has developed beyond all our wildest dreams, is that some whole departments in banks have completely disappeared. For instance, banks would employ hundreds of people in large offices, who would spend their days sorting out and processing cheques. I can't recall the last time I even wrote a cheque. AI has taken this to a whole new level. Want to research an investment? Ask AI. Want to write some code? Ask AI. Want to know if software works? Ask AI. Want to know What shares are best to invest in? Ask AI. Who needs staff?

It is not just the motor trade and finance where this is happening. Want to book a holiday, AI willf ind you the best deal. Want to know the best way to fry a plantain? AI will tell you. We are doomed, aren't we?

Well actually, experience tells me that we are not. Technology destroys whole industries as it advances, which is why we don't see stage coaches thundering up the A1 to York, or shops selling typewriter ribbons, new jobs and industries pop up. In 1948, my Father worked for an Oil company in the middle east as a pilot. His job? Flying around the oilfields, which were remote, with the wages for the workforce. Now they will be paid by a bank transfer and will get the money transferred into their account. When I worked in IT from 1983 until ten years ago, I worked in payments transmissions. This industry effectively destroyed my Dad's job (he'd long since had a career change). His next job? He ran a car crash repair business. At one time, he employed enough men to have his own football team! The workshop is still there, but now, there are three people doing the same amount of work. Power tools, different paints, better techniques made repairs less labour intensive. Panel beaters do not beat out dents, etc. 

I've heard some silly staements about AI, one mate even said that all restaurants would be run by AI within five years. Clearly he doesn't know how the kichen in a Michelin starred restaurant works. Ingredients vary every day and food is constantly tasted. Of course, mass produced slop may be automated and our drive through takeaways may have AI cooking systems, doing mass catering, but I simply can't see it replacing restaurants that people actually visit to enjoy the ambience. 

Just as some industries disappear, new ones spring up. So what are the new jobs of the future? I am sure in 1948, my Dad never envisaged that his son would work on systems that ended the need to transport huge amounts of banknotes by air. So the answer is, I don't really know, but I have absolutely no doubt that there will be more jobs, not less as a result of AI. New technology opens new doors. Whilst money transmission is ever more automated, the fact that it opens up new channels of commerce generates different jobs. Modern commerce would be impossible with a cash only society. People earn money selling products on platforms such as Amazon and Ebay. 25 years ago, those opportunities simply wouldn't exist.

Twenty years ago, no one made a living as a TikTok or Instagram Influencer. 40 years ago, no one made a living as a computer games designer. My worry about AI is that it is effectively plaigarism on an industrial scale. It nicks everyones ideas and creative content and no one gets paid for it. When this is addressed and AI companies start paying for the data they have mined, there will be all sorts of new jobs. This blog is a 'trusted source' for AI and I see huge amounts of data mining on it. I don't get a penny. It is rather galling that I spent over a decade writing and it is Elon Musk and CO who reap the financial rewards. I'm not greedy, but I do believe the labourer should be rewarded for their work. 

One aspect that people often miss is just how powerful a processor the human brain is. Computers can do specific tasks almost infinitely faster, but the human brain can perform all manner of diverse tasks simultaneously.  You are sitting there reading this. You are breathing, maybe eating, having a coffee, listening to the radio. If someone knocks on the door, you will be able to deal with that. If your smoke alarm goes off, or the dog starts barking you will deal with it. You will know from the dogs woof, whether it wants to go to the toilet or a burglar is in the house. The biggest asset a human has over a computer, is that we get bored. AI doesn't.  When we get bored, we get creative. It is our superpower. 

This is not the first time I have written about AI. I thought I'd ask Google AI if I was right?

This is it's reply

It is not possible to determine if the "Barneteye blog" is right about AI because "Barneteye" appears to be a misremembered name, and there is no prominent blog with that specific name or similar. There are, however, many reputable blogs and resources discussing AI, and the accuracy of any given blog depends on the credibility of its authors and the information it presents, as AI's capabilities, ethical considerations, and impact on various fields are constantly evolving topics.

My dyslexic musings aged 9 3/4's

Clearly it is not exactly keen on what I have to say, which gives me great hope for the future. Given that this blog is on Blogger, which is a Google platform, and it has over 5 million hits, from their own stats, I am a bit surprised at how dim this form of "INTELLIGENCE" is, especially given that the query also brought up various links to the articles I've written. 

It seems that Google AI has the same opinion of my intelligence and repute as my teachers at St Vincents, when I was a semi literate 9 /34 year old. I am used to be ing told I didn't exist and my work was not credible. It is your job, dear reader to decide who is right!

I suspect that in 20 years, we'll all wonder what the fuss was about. 

A few random thoughts for a new week

I have been a bit tardy on the blog front over the last week. This was mostly because I was away in Scotland for a wedding, then I had the small matter of a big football game yesterday, which rather absorbed my concentration.

I usually write a Sunday Reflection blog. I simply didn't have time yesterday. As sometimes happens, I had about three different themes going through my mind and I couldn't pick one. The first theme was about the randomness of the symbols we choose to rally around. In recent days, the flying of flags has become a hot topic. The Union Jack is a rather interesting flag. It is a conglomeration of three flags. The flags of St George, St Andrew and St Patrick. All flags are basically symbols of the Cross. Yesterday was the Feast of The Holy Cross, which all of our flags signify. I have never truly understood why Christians venerate the cross. It was a barbaric method for repressive regimes to murder opponents. Various priests and theological experts have tried to explain to me why the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ transformed it into a symbol of hope and triumph over death, but in truth I am too thick to really understand this. The early Christians used the symbol of the fish, as Jesus fed 5,000 people with seven  of them and some of his Apostles were fishermen. It was a symbol of sharing. I have always preferred it. Having said that, crosses make visually more appealling flags. If the Union Jack was three different fishes, I don't think it would look too good. I've always wondered what Jesus would make of it, walking into churches with images of him murdered on the cross everywhere? I am not entirely sure the early church were into design, but they certainly picked a symbol that is easy to reproduce and is instantly recognisable. I thought about some of the other symbols we see. The British Rail double arrow, the MOT centre triple triangle and the Olympics five coloured circles. All are simple and work well. It has always puzzled me just how few football clubs have logos that are easy to draw. Anyway enough of that.

There is an article in the Guardian today about the decline of grassroots venues. This is a topic which is a massive concern to me. Regular readers will know my views on this. It directly affects my business. There are numerous issues causing an almost perfect storm for small bands, venues and promoters. The more I look at the issues, the more I realise that if we want to save our UK music industry, we will have to do more than just talk and sign petitions. I am working on a plan, which I hope might make a difference and actually be a blueprint for a recovery. I have come to the conclusion that where we need to start is not by working out what someone else can do, but starting to say "What can I do". In some ways, the scene has parallels with 1975/6 when music was stale-, but things started happening under the radar. The punk explosion was a comming together not just of musicians, but writers, artists, fashion designers and all sorts of other wierd and wonderful people. For maybe eighteen months, the lid was off  and all sorts of brilliant music that would never have seen the light of day emerged. Clubs like The Roxy emerged. Most nights there were probably a hundred people or less there, but the spark was lit. I am an optimist and I hope that something similar is stirring. What we cannot do is wait for someone else to do it for us.

Beer has been on my mind lately. As I mentioned, I was at a wedding in Scotland and drunk rather too much of the stuff. I was saddened to read that CAMRA have cancelled the Great British Beer Festival for next year. This years was a bit of a financial disaster. CAMRA (Campaign for Real Ale) was, like Punk Rock, a reaction to large Breweries taking over the industry and destroying local breweries who made great made beer. They thought we should all drink bland beers which were cheap to make and easy to keep. The fruits of their efforts made my life infineitely better over the last 50 years. I love decent beers. But like the music industry, it appears that the corporates are winning again. I go into a lot of pubs. I travel great distances to sample interesting beers at pubs with character. Like many things in life, pubs only really work when they are run by people who love running pubs and enjoy the culture. It is the same with breweries. It rather saddens me that people seem to be taken in by clever branding of booze, rather than taste. If  I wasn't fully committed running my music business, I'd open a pub. I'd love to make a proper pub that had all of the elements I love in pubs and none of the things that annoy me. If you are a millionaire, with spare cash and a desire to disrupt, and you'd like to open a brilliant pub in Mill Hill, I'd love to help you spend your money getting it right! 

So that is a potted summary of what I was thinking about, but couldn't decide.  They say a week is a long time in politics. It certainly feels like that right now. I don't really have anything which my readers might find interesting to add to the Angela Rayner or Peter Mandelson debate. The only observation I can possibly make is that Sir Keir Starmer really should employ some ordinary people as advisors, who might inform him what the general public think of all this. 

And finally, after the appearance of Elon Musk on the screens at a 'British Patriot' rally, I was inspired to write a brand new song. It is called "This is not America". I am hoping to get the boys playing it on Wednesday when we rehearse. As so often, such ideas pop into my head on the way to work. Here is the seed, recorded walking down Bunns Lane. It won't even sound like this next time you hear it. But it may give you an insight into the songwriting process!

A few thoughts on Tommy Robinsons Unite The Kingdom Rally

 I wasn't there, I haven't watched the news and in truth I was unaware that it was happening. My mind has been elsewhere. I've been in Gretna Green since Thursday at a friends wedding. The first I know about it was when I got off the train back from Carlisle at Euston at around 6.30pm. The station was abuzz with people in Union Jacks. A fair few seemed to be rather inebriated. Clare asked me if England were playing (she doesn't follow football). It had the vibe of the afters of an England match at first sight, but the crowd's mood was completely different. There was a fair bit of shouting and chanting, whilst the ordinary customers did there best not to engage. On the train back, I did some googling and checking twitter. I learned that there had been a large rally, with a small counter demonstration by Antifa protestors. It also seems that Elon Musk attended. My first thought when I read this is that anyone who considers themselves a British Patriot, surely should expect British speakers on the stage. If Mr Musk wants to support them, it's a free country, but I thought the whole idea of patriotism is to not have foreigners telling us what to do. The second thought was that if people genuinely were interested in respecting the flag, they would treat it with respect and not wear it as a Batman cape or have shorts and bandanas with it. I am all for waving flags at the right time, but getting drunk, shouting at your mates whilst the flag is dragged along the floor behind you is not, to my mind, respectful. A lot of white, English people at Euston, seeing the demeanour of the people waving flags, clearly felt a bit uncomfortable. Police looked on, with that ready to get stuck in look, I've seen when they expect public disorder. We got away from the station as fast as we could. 

At the bottom of the stairs, I saw an extraordinary site. A couple of very drunk men of my age, with big read noses, and a couple of winos, most likely of African descent, shouting "I love you, I'm proud to be British" at each other. It all seemed good humoured, althoug a group of police in hi-viz jackets looked on in a bemused fashion. I suspect that the real problem with the British, is that as hard as some may try, they will always make lousy fascists, because when it comes down to it, we are a bit too polite and if we decided someone is "ok" we let them alone. Some of us enjoy a good punch up and a bit of social disorder, but when this descends into bullying of people who are going about their business, we don't really think it is very British. 

Ultimately, I suspect that what will eventually undo Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, AKA Tommy Robinson (in my book people who change their name to sound less posh are dodgy BTW) is that half of the people out in their flags, will get home and have a curry or chow mien. They really want to hate 'the other' but by the same token, are the first to pull people up who insult the staff at the Tandoori or th chinese takeaway. Yaxley-Lennon's problem is that, at the end of the day, we are British and whilst some of us like a nice day out waving flags, we are not the Germans, so we aren't really taken in by people like him. On the Thameslink back, I earwigged a conversation between two people who were returning from the rally. The gist of it was that they'd enjoyed waving their flags and being patriotic, but when it came to Yaxley-Lennon both agreed he's a bit dodgy and that Elon Musk is a bit strange. Whilst neither will be voting for Keir Starmer any time soon (their conversation was largely about what a W-Anchor he is), I suspect that what they really wanted was Boris Johnson back. One clearly felt that he'd been stitched up by the Tories. 

The problem with large rallies, is everyone always draws the wrong conclusion. In the UK, things ultimately get decided by people who would not be seen dead at any political rally.

Time for Labour Party supporters to wake up and smell the coffee

 I left the Labour Party in 2009 after 30 years of membership. I joined young at the Burnt Oak Labour club during the 1979 election, when Jim Callaghan was visited during his campaign against Margaret Thatcher. There were many reasons that I left. The last straw was when Home Secretary Alan Johnson was on the news celebrating the closure of the Sangatte Refugee camp in France by French riot police. As he spoke, Sky news showed women and children being violently assaulted. That was the polar opposite of what I believed Labour stood for. Nothing that has happened since has made me regret my decision. 

Yesterday, at PMQ's Sir Keir Starmer defended the role of Peter Mandelson as US Ambassador, after it was revealed that Mandelson sent fawning letters to convicted paedophile and sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein. Mandelsons defence is that he believe Epsteins lawyers. Mandelson is many things, but he is not stupid and he is verses in the ways of the world. Why would a man who has spent his life acquiring influence want to be close to a man with a powerful circle of friend, that he has serious dirt on? Starmer is not stupid either. I had believed Starmer to be a decent person, maybe a decent person out of his depth as PM, having seen him in post for a year. I simply cannot believe that anymore. I am not going to speculate as to why Mandelson has been given such a plum job and supported in the role. Or why he seemingly has had lead a charmed life ever since he first emerged as a mover and shaker in the Labour party. All I can say is the facts are that he fawned over a man who used paedophile sex as a means to achieve wealth and power. Whatever Mandelson may or may not have done, he clearly lacks the judgement to be a representative of the British state. And the stark truth is that if Sir Keir Starmer cannot see that, he clearly is not fit to be PM. 

What horrifies me is that the upper echelons of the Labour Party seem rotten to the core. Last week Angela Rayner was sacked for tax dodging. The party has responded to the rise of Reform by lurching to the Right. Is it beyond the wit of Starmer to realise that this is a folly? What the majority of British people want is services that work. We don't want sewage pumped into rivers, so bosses of water companies can make huge profits. We want our kids to be able to afford their own homes, but hundreds of thousands of properties sit empty because the owners make more cash from their investment with them empty. We currently have a Mayor of London, who berates TFL for not sorting out the tube strike, forgetting that he's the chairman of TFL. To me this is typical of Khan, he simply refuses to take responsibility for the problems that are his own making. He doesn't seem interested in supporting the people who make London prosperous, ie the business owners. His view is that such people are wealthy and don't need any help. But he neglects to realise the effects that the pandemic had. Creative industries have been especially clobbered. The reason people come to London is because of our culture. We have no beaches or mountains. This is simply never even acknowledged by Khan. Without economic prosperity, Khan will never deliver for the poorer people. I am starting to suspect that this actually suits Khan and Labour. 

In 1997 when Blair got elected, no one was happier than me. I stayed up to 6am celebrating, then went to the pub at work all day. Until 9/11 it seemed that Labour really was the answer. Then we saw Blair lying to Parliament and it became clear that Labour was more on the side of the big, vested interests than the ordinary people. By the time I quite the party in 2009, it was clear to me that the people at the top of the Labour party were the biggest hypocrites imaginable. There are honourable, decent MP's, but they are being weeded out. So few of them now are people from working backgrounds. 

Labour only really have one redeeming feature right now. They are not as bad as Reform. To me, it beggars belief that people can't see Nigel Farage for what he is. The man is a complete charlatan. The party has no real policies to deal with the UK's problems. Even their main story, small boats, they have no real policies, other than a vague wish to stop people coming here. If it really was that simple, the Tories would have done it.

The UK is in a  horrible place politically. We won't have an election for four years, unless Starmer is convinced he'll win. Although the polls suggest this is unlikely at the moment, as soon as Farage's affairs are subject to the same scrutiny as Angela Rayner, I believe that will disappear. 

What is the answer? I don't know, but ordinary Labour members and supporters need to make their voices heard. So do the Trades Unions that fund Labour. If I was Starmer, I'd do the following five things immediately

1. Sack Mandelson.

2. Nationalise polluting water companies and make ending of sewage dumping a priority.

3. Instruct the Home Secretary to put the human rights of victims, both past and future above those of criminals and write this into law.

4. Tell the French that if they do not take proper action against people smugglers, we will stop paying them money. People crossing the channel in boats is good for no one.

5. Pass a law requiring all elected MP's to publish their tax affairs. We pay them, we deserve to know that they are above board. We can draw whatever conclusions we like about MP's who don't support this. 

It's really not that difficult

The very worst thing about running a music studio

 I love my job. I love running a studio, meeting musicians both world famous and just starting out. Sometimes, those just starting out become superstars, such as Amy Winehouse and Kate Nash, sometimes they stay like my band, The False Dots and just play the grassroots circuit. All have stories and tales to tell, which I love. Sometimes, we don't see customers for months, years and sometimes decades, but sooner or later they turn up. Some have been coming in regularly for decades. Last night, I went for a beer with Boz Boorer of the Polecats and Alan Warner from the Foundations. Both are still working musicians. Boz was back from a gig in Anchorage, with the Boz Boorer allstars and Alan was back from a tour of Northamptonshire with Grandma's wooden leg. Both have lived locally for years, but Boz was telling me he's just sold his Mums old house in Edgware and Alan is planning a move to Bedford to be nearer his daughter and grandkids. I hope they'll still be able to make beer and curry night! Boz and the Polecats were the very first paying customer of Mill Hill Music Complex, and Alan was the second! That was back in 1979. Alan was talking about remembering Boz doing a paper round. Alan was telling us stories of how he attended the premiere of the Beatles Yellow Submarine and how he chatted with George Harrison and John Lennon at the after party. I keep urging Alan to write a book, but he always insists he has no stories!

That is the side I love. I also experienced the side of the business that I absoluetely hate. Last month, legendary singer Terry Reid passed away. I had spoken to Terry in June, when he booked a rehearsal for a forthcoming tour. He was in great spirits. Terry has been using the studio for decades. He was a lovely bloke and would always have a coffee and a chat with us. Terry very nearly became the lead singer of Led Zeppelin, but turned them down. He is one of the truly great British singers. Our studio booking system automatically generates a booking reminder 24 hours before the session is due to take place. This helps remind musicians what time etc the session is booked. Sadly, and this was remiss of me, we didn't cancel Terry's booking. Terry's booking was today and yesterday we got a phone call from his wife, who had received the reminder. I felt really bad for not contacting her in a more appropriate fashion, but in the sadness at his passing, it had simply not registered. Terrys wife was absolutely fine and it gave us the chance to pass on our condolences. 

Actually going on the system and deleting his bookings was a sad moment. You realise that this is it. I think the saddest moment of all was when Amy Winehouse passed away. She had a large recording booking. She was working on a new album. She had rung us in July and explained that she wanted to get some ideas down in the studio. She explained that she felt that none of the music she'd released really sounded how she really wanted and wanted to be in control. She said the tracks may just end up being pre production demos or they may be the next album if it goes well. On the night Amy died, her neighbours complained as she was practicing drums at 2am. Unlind press reports suggested that this was a sign that she was, shall we say, not in a sober state of mind. To me, it said she was working on the new material and making sure she could get the performance she wanted. We will never know. But what I do know is that the world was robbed of a great album. 

I was in France when she passed away and the saddest thing was getting out the tippex and scrubbing out her bookings. Back then we still used a paper diary,. It seemed brutal. I felt like a thief in the night, robbing the planet of music when I scrubbed them out. But what can you do?

Over the course of time, we have seen many valued customers pass away. Apart from Amy, the one that absolutely horrified me was when Andy McGoldrick passed away. You probably won't have heard of Andy. He was a local lad, playing in local bands. He was also a much loved teacher at a local school. Andy had a rehearsal at our studios, in preparation for a gig, back in 2006 the same evening. He had just bought a new amplifier and showed me the beauty in his car. I asked why he wasn't using it at the rehearsal and he said he was saving it for the gig, where he would debut it. The gig was at the James Joyce pub. After the rehearsal, we wished Andy well for the gig. At the sound check, he plugged his guitar into the amp, strummed it and was electrocuted. Andy was 27. The really sad thing, was that if Andy had been using our studios, our electrics have circuit breakers that would most likely saved his life. That was no solace at all. He'd simply had an amp with an incorrectly wired mains plug and it killed him. 

Such random things, such sadness. Life is a precious and fragile thing. You never really know when your time will come, so treasure every moment. 

Here is a bit of Terry RIP.