Dream of mainly beans and lice.

Storms ravaged the land. I can justify that statement by using the “Frictionless Storm Assessment Protocol”. It is quite simple. If a branch thicker than me has been torn from a tree and everything looks wet and messy then Storms Have Ravaged the Land. If my hair is wet and messy then Storms have Ravaged My Head.

I say this because an impressive branch had fallen off a tree I passed on the way to work after a weekend of very enthusiastic weather. I would have liked to have seen it fall off, but that would have been floral voyeurism, which is frowned upon in some influential quarters. But I would have like to have seen it. Big things falling over are so much more impressive than small things.

We have not made much music of late through a combination of my slackness and grumpiness and Monica’s Kantian exertions. I was actually of some small assistance in this the other day when we were trying to analyse Kant’s description of the Supremely Good Will. As a result of this we have not rehearsed and I have not finished any of the music I started on. Not having a deadline to work to has resulted in the band drifting for a little while. Maybe it is a good thing; we started working very hard on it at about this time last year and only really let up in September.

Our move to Liverpool has been growing ever closer as well, with all that will entail. We are going there for a few days in two weeks time, to look around and see what we can see. I think we would both like to catch some music up there to see how they do it in Liverpool. I am hoping that there won’t be a collection of dreary singer-songwriterly types in pubs strumming away on slightly out of tune acoustic guitars. I am hoping that there won’t be any brainless “indie” bands hacking their way through the same chord progressions. I am hoping that there won’t be any bands rocking in a soft way and being earnest.

I have spent all of my adult life so far in Wales. I don’t know what England is like anymore and I wonder if it is any different to Wales. And what will it be like being a musician in Liverpool? It seems to me that around here it is no big thing, everyone is in a band, or their dad is in a band, or their brother is in a band or their sister is in a band or their monkey is in a band or their shoes are in band or their aura is in a band or their milkman is in a band or their hand is in a band. Are there no audience members left out there? Probably loads of them, but they don’t want to talk to me. I’m with the band.

I will have to find a new job, a new pub, a new favourite shop to buy strings from, a new place to buy cigarettes and two new shops to buy booze from depending on which one has the best offers. We will need a new place to go and see bands which we think are great and who we will see the next time, or maybe go and see somewhere else because there is somewhere else to play. There will be art galleries to go to and be baffled and enchanted in. There will be proper “big” gigs to get ripped off at but still enjoy, more than one jazz venue, architecture that won’t make me want to shriek.

I say this because this will be my tenth winter in Swansea and I hope it will be the last ever. Not long now, just round the corner.