and an awareness of DaDaism and the Russian Revolution

Up, breakfast, more coffee.

Get a move on, shower and walk into Walker.

Get to Walker about five minutes after I ought to have done. There’s another package waiting for me – I’ve lost a bit of weight, so I’ve had to replace a lot of my clothes. Now might be a good time to put a brake on it, and sell off a few things that are now a bit baggy. Do diverse artworkings.

At lunchtime, after my soup, take a walk around the block.

Afternoon is doing 3D stuff with hares.

Wander home with my boxed mic stand over my shoulder and my package. I had thought I might leave them for tomorrow, but then I’ll have dry cleaning as well, which would make it even more complicated.

Drop off the packages and walk up to Shaftesbury Avenue and go to the theatre to watch Travesties, which I missed at the much-closer-to-home Menier Chocolate Factory.

Travesties is wonderful, but is a pyrotechnic display of ideas and words. I know what’s going on because I read it so many times (even though there are a couple of stage directions I must have misunderstood, that took me by surprise), but it’s really for people with a working knowledge of The Importance of Being Earnest, and an awareness of DaDaism and the Russian Revolution. I laughed a lot, though.

Walk home and get sandwich and beer for late dinner.

Eat sandwich and pears, drink beer and watch YouTube.

I’ve got to dodge a number of people

Up, breakfast. Today’s breakfast includes black pudding, so H can find out what it’s like. Generally approved of.

Spend a lot of the day dithering and hanging around. I must have done some stuff, but I can’t remember what. H goes out to the pictures.

Go out for a run. It’s got warm. It would be impossible to get down the South Bank on a Saturday afternoon in this weather, so I elect to go round by Tate Britain. Even so, I’ve got to dodge a number of people.

Stretch, shower and get dressed. And H comes home.

Do the ironing while watching the first three episodes of Inside Number 9, which I’ve unaccountably not seen until now. Very good television to iron to, I must say.

Somehow it becomes 8:30 without my really noticing it happening.

Go and get fish and chips, with detours to buy stuff for tomorrow’s breakfast. I send the message to put the kettle on from the watch. I might think of that as progress. It seems like progress.

Watch most of Transport 2 and all of Dredd. A nice bit of Saturday night hyperviolence.

it’s quite possible I’m wrong, as I have a talent for it

Up, sit, coffee, some guitar playing, some more coffee, shower, dress.

Into Walker.

The day is spent largely working on hares with occasional fish interjections. When I arrive, my cupboard is full of cake for a birthday celebration later on. Today is a fast day, so I’m not allowed anything, which includes cake. When I go home I take a couple of leftover pieces in a tupperware container.

Walk home via the local chemist, which has been long closed. I could have guessed that, but I suppose the extra walking did me some good or other.

When I get home and unpack the packages, it seems that the shoes are not only genuine Loake shoes,  but are vintage. Or at least old. Which I assume is an advantage, though it’s quite possible I’m wrong, as I have a talent for it. The suit is also nice. The trousers claim to be 36″ at the waist and yet they fit. This is freakish.

Walk up to Waterloo Station to get some mouthwash to hopefully quell the abused gums.

Go out for a run – down the South Bank, so there’s a certain amount of dodging people, though not as much as there will be in a month or so. I’ll have to go off in search of backstreets to jog down. That or get up really early.

Stretch and shower.

Do the ironing while watching Avengers: Age of Ultron. Yes, Ironing Man, ha, ha. I first saw the film in the morning, and went to see Fury Road in the afternoon, and it’s always suffered rather by the comparison, at least in my memory. It’s fine, though, and I have a lot of ironing to do, so it occupies the time wonderfully.

H gets home, and I quiz her about the shoes.

in imitation of free will or individuality

Up, sit, breakfast.

Broadly manage to avoid playing the guitar (perhaps a couple of chords), but don’t seem to get out of the flat any earlier. Nice day though.

Morning – mostly fish.

After eating lunch I take another turn round the block, except today I decide to go in the opposite direction, just because I can, in imitation of free will or individuality, perhaps.

Afternoon shift – more hares. It’s the kind of job that messes up my head after a few hours. I don’t really know why, but it does. So I’m quite bewildered by six o’clock.

Borrow a bag to get my stuff home.

Go up to the shop to get dinner – one of the butcher’s convenient premade foods. And salad and stuff. I didn’t notice we had tomatos when I checked the fridge, so I get more. H said this is what she did yesterday, so now we have lots of tomatos. Which is probably a good thing. I like tomatos.

Dinner, then eat too many imperial mints. Which is more than four. So far too many imperial mints. The one bit of imperialism I can get behind wholeheartedly.

Create the final track for Restless Spirits – I’d mis- or unread the script and need to spin something out of bits of other tracks. Also remix the triumphant end music, so there’s more expression to the sounds.

Do the invoices for last month, which will hopefully get paid this month. Long story.

Make a spooky loop, just because. Upload it anyway.

stroll more considerately

Up, breakfast.

The day is spent doing more sounds for Viv’s game, with a break to iron a couple of shirts.

At four-and-a-bit shower and dress in proper clothes.

At just after five walk up to Soho. I walk a little faster than I ought,  leaving H behind, until I recalibrate my walking and stroll more considerately. Still people careening around everywhere makes it hard – my usual strategy being head-down-and-charge. But one can’t charge slowly.

Go to an Udon place on H’s recommendation – have beef udon and a couple of small dishes with some Kernel Table Beer. Very nice.

Finish the meal and walk over to the Jermyn Street Theatre.

As the theatre’s doors haven’t opened when we get there, we walk up and down Jermyn Street once. The clothes in the shop windows make what I’m wearing feel very cheap indeed (though it’s more affordable than cheap, at least first hand and I got it on eBay). I notice the mannequins (for men) are getting very thin. Which is more than one can say for the likely clientele.

The Frogs  is excellent, with loads of ridiculous Sondheim extended rhyming, some fantastic (given the small performance space) choreography and engaging performances. Feel very lucky to have had the chance to see it.

Walk home feeling slighly exhilarated, which I wasn’t expecting. The Frogs always had a slightly academic aura for me, but it’s really just a silly play (with a Serious Message), isn’t it? Pick up milk and croissants on the way home.

Do the toast – it’s nice that there’s enough time to do it tonight, as it always feels a bit messy if we leave it to the next month. As if we’re not taking it seriously.

Drink vodka and lime and continue listening to Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guébrou

slightly more colourful than my faintly ludicrous weekday clothes

Up, breakfast. Still haven’t got the new butchers trained to give me four pieces of bacon rather than two, but then that’s probably exactly one piece of bacon healthier.

Most of the day is spent working on game loops in a slightly dithery sort of way. Partly it’s because I’m working on what I imagine is needed and there will come a point where someone gets back to me and tells me that actually something quite different is needed.

Go for a run. I think I’ve found a circuit that avoids the crowds and doesn’t involve crossing too many main roads. Less enthusiastic than previously. Probably because I’m in Saturday Recovery Mode.

Shower and get dressed in faintly ludicrous weekend clothes (slightly more colourful than my faintly ludicrous weekday clothes).

Watch The Nice Guys and do my ironing. Or rather, do most of it, then need to make dinner, so pause it just before Amelia is apparently about to explain something.

Go out and get a cauliflower and some smoked salmon from Sainsburys. Actually I go to two, and get a bigger cauliflower and cheaper salmon. Who says it doesn’t pay to shop around? Also chips. Actually, mostly chips, but it’s nice to have the salmon.

Watch the rest of the film and eat my dinner.

This doesn’t, in fact, seem like top decision-making

Up, coffee. Some guitar playing and then more coffee.

Get a text to say I’m not needed today again, so another free-ish day. Send mails to possible other people who might need my assistance, and get a font to amend very, very slightly. In fact it takes more time to straighten out the data (names and so forth) so that it will load and not mess up the designer’s mac than it does to make the change. Font’s are basically tiny bundles of bureaucracy.

Do spend some time trying to get audio stuff, done, though not with a tremendous amount of avail. Also, possible idea for CA video, which is similarly unavailed. Not one of my more productive Thursdays, then.

Although someone does get back to me and ask me to go in tomorrow, so there’s that.

At the very least I want to get out of the flat for a bit, but am finding it very difficult to get anything done.

Try plugging in the camera I videoed the gig with the other day with. It doesn’t turn up on the computer. I’m getting annoyed. Then it strikes me that perhaps it only carries charge (it’s actually for charging something) rather than data. Perhaps I need to be not-stingy and get a new cable. Not quite as stingy as Zoom, who were too cheap to include one in the box, anyway.

Shower and get dressed. Put the probably useless cable in my pocket, for later comparison purposes. Decide to wear shoes that I’ve got stashed in their box on a high shelf, which seems to involve making a big mess. Decide to leave tidying up until I get back again and need to return the shoes. This doesn’t, in fact, seem like top decision-making, but I want fresh air.

Finally leaving the house, I walk up to Tate Modern.

I go to the Wolfgang Tillmans exhibition. Glad I didn’t pay actual money for this. I’m sure everything’s thought out conceptually, but most of it is a bit dull. The most interesting pictures are the ones that are interesting from a photojournalism or travel point of view, but the banality of many of the others pulls them down. Maybe I’m just grumpy.

Then I cross the footbridge and walk along the north bank to Waterloo Bridge, climb the stairs and go to Maplins.

At Maplins I compare the cables they’ve got with the one in my pocket, until I find one that matches. Then I buy it and go home.

Getting home, I try the cable. Yes, of course it works. I’m very dim. Good job I didn’t cause a fuss with Zoom customer support, I’d be very embarrassed right now. I successfully transfer the movies, though I still can’t get it to webcam. Maybe it won’t. Such things are known.

Having got the movies across from the camera, I decide I’ll even edit one for possible uploading. At which point Final Cut Pro crashes catastrophically and (pretty much simultaneously) the voices for the sound job I’ve been working on appear on DropBox. I know when it’s pointless trying to make my own decisions (most of the time, actually).

So the evening is spent putting the newly-recorded vocal tracks into Logic and messing around with them and giving them backings. Hopefully this will be accepted, or I’ll be in trouble.

Find myself arranging arrows in a circle in Illustrator. It’s the new Tetris, and somehow even less useful.

One day I’ll absorb that important moral lesson.

Up, breakfast. Some practise.

Get in to Walker and do some work, on my own recognizance today. Once again, aiming early seems to get me here on time. One day I’ll absorb that important moral lesson.


Finish up the work and go home.

Have a cup of tea. Run through the set again. Change and get my stuff together, including a tiny camera I got for the purpose. Sadly, however, the tiny camera needs to be on a big tripod, thus hugely impacting its portability. The tripod is one unwieldy thing to carry.

Walk up to Islington, arriving maybe a little later than I ought. Line check, set up the camera, hang around until Show Time.

Perform. At the time I felt it went rather well, apart from the fact that I just talk complete bollocks when I deign to talk at all. Now I wonder whether I might not have been paying attention, or might have been paying attention to the wrong thing. I need to do the same setlist (or one very similar) again, as I think I flubbed a couple of things I wanted to try (partly because I’d forgotten there was going to be an audience there, which as performance mistakes go is pretty much the cardinal error, worse even than forgetting to put on trousers, or getting very drunk and insulting the audience).

Stay to watch the other performers – The Grey Man and the Rob Thom band. All very nice. Drink beer, which I’ve not been doing recently, but I appear to have some room for it in my food-intake budget.

Walk home. I decide to take the scenic route. I know not why. I expect it adds to the journey, but I’m listening to interesting podcasts, so I’m happy enough. I’ve worked out how to hook the tripod onto the bag strap so it doesn’t get in the way.

Stop off at the corner shop to get milk and something I can eat.

Get home and eat crisps and tuna fish. I really wouldn’t call that a recipe, more a coincidence of foodstuffs.

I suspect I don’t have a natural talent for spiting.

Up late. Breakfast and traditional Saturday morning dithering.

Walk up to Algerian Coffee to get, um, coffee. Slightly mismatched attempt at jolly chit-chat, which is slightly stressing, but I do come away with coffee bean and tea, which is really all I wanted, so that’s fine. On the way back go to M&S to see if they have navy blue socks in my size, which they don’t. It takes an annoyingly long time to establish this, so I buy a pack of socks in various stages of brown, which they do have in my size, in order to spite them. I suspect I don’t have a natural talent for spiting.

Go out for a run, then stretch and shower. The weight decline is going well. I feel a lulling into a false sense of security, followed by a crushing disappointment, coming on.

(H has gone to the theatre while I’m out.)

Do the ironing while watching old episodes of Dr Who. As one does.

H gets fish and chips on the way home. So we eat fish and chips. I then run through what I think will be the set list for Tuesday. I’d like it to be five minutes longer, but then that’s the thing about external discipline – it’s not what I want that’s significant.

Pop round to the Stage Door to watch the Bossa Bandits, and other entertainments.

Leave a little early to drop by the supermarket before it closes at 11, so I can get eggs and salmon for breakfast and a lime for now-ish.

And that is how I discovered 1/5th freshly squeezed lime juice to 4/5ths vodka straight out of the freezer is very nice. When it comes to the summer, I think I’ll put the shot glass in the freezer too.

That sentence is both perfectly true, yet makes no sense.

Up, breakfast. Dither.

In late again. I didn’t mean to be, but I was. I attribute my lateness to a period of time spent, essentially, staring into space. Should I pencil specific staring into space times in to my calendar? It might help my timekeeping a bit.

Spend the day arranging brightly coloured things in hopefully pleasing ways. I mean, how pleasing they are will be established in meetings that I won’t be privy to, but it was fun and remunerative. One can’t really hope for more than that.

Home via the shop to get dinner for tonight and breakfast for tomorrow.

Make and eat dinner, while listening to the new albums by Aquaserge and Juniore. I’m very taken with French pop music all of a sudden.

Walk up to Waterloo Station to buy Brylcreem, interdental brushes, apples and pears. That sentence is both perfectly true, yet makes no sense.

Watch the latest episode of Legion and drink Japanese single malt whisky, which is very fine indeed.

Stay up too late watching YouTube videos, again.