Ed Sheeran asks for Sellotape

Ideas crawling around in my head (bear with):

  • Burning sins through meditation
  • Stroking her cat
  • The way that conversation should have gone
  • That new word you made up today (dummary)
  • Ed Sheeran stories
  • What to say when I’m empty.

That’s enough for now so let’s begin.

Everything starts with conversation when you don’t have the skill of describing a scene adequately enough for a reader to experience it as if they were watching a particularly compelling movie. So, not being one to be bound by arbitrary rules, I’ll learn how to describe. They say you should start with the senses. But not in any old boring way. No, something interesting must be contained in the scene. Interesting to who? Why, to you, my dear!

You are lying back on a deeply comfortable armchair in a room lined with cupboards full of the best chocolate. You can eat as much of it as you want because it’s being filtered at a gastric level by enzymes that take out all the things that make it bad for you (the fat, the sugar and the tendency for it to alter your mood). You briefly consider what’s left in the chocolate to make you like it as much as you do as you slip another piece inside with one hand while you stroke her cat with the other but the thought is swept away by a wave of sensuous gratification supplied by those delightful little (taste) buds on your tongue.

Someone enters the room but you don’t look around because you’re busy looking out of the window at the glorious sight of …


You pointedly ignore the sound of someone impolitely clearing their throat politely behind you.

“Ah, hello, I’m Ed Sheeran.”

You think what a ridiculous idea.

“No, really, I am.”

You ponder the possibilities as you stretch out your free hand, snap off another piece of chocolate and then slip it into your mouth. This doesn’t feel like a dream. The planet just coming into view in the bottom-left of the window is as solid as the smell of aftershave in the room. Her cat is pliantly soft and pulses gently as you stroke it. The chair on which you sit is floating securely above the floor. You are not dreaming. And yet, Ed Sheeran has just announced himself by means of a polite cough; not to mention the fact that he seems to have read your mind.

You know that you can’t turn. Momentum, inertia and the lack of a solid object around which to pivot forbid this manoeuvre. So you try speaking. It’s been a while, but the lubricating effect of chocolate in your throat cancels out the dry rasp you would otherwise have produced.

“Hello, Ed.” No point in not giving your dream the benefit of doubt. “You can’t be here.” No point in denying that your one-person spacecraft can contain more than one person.

“Sorry to intrude.”

Well, at least your impolite intrusion continues to be polite.

“What do you want, Ed?”

“I was wondering if you had …”

“No, I don’t have any spare chocolate. Do I look like a vending machine to you?”

You don’t mean to sound tetchy, but there are limits to a person’s patience.

“… Sellotape?”


“Yeah, I need to …”

You wave an arm towards the large cupboard on the starboard wall.

“Middle cupboard, top shelf. Just behind the Lindt. Do not be tempted to …”

“No, no, don’t worry about that. I’m allergic.”

A wave of pity and something approaching empathy sweeps through your mind. A life without chocolate is surely not something worth enduring.

“What do you need it for?” Normally you’re not inquisitive about such things, but it’s been a slow day and so you indulge yourself.

“I’m going to sellotape myself to the wall.”

Oh, you think.

“I’m trying to meditate and I keep drifting off.”

You swallow the urge to snigger, but, however much this sounds like the punchline to a drawn-out shaggy-dog story set in space you will not be drawn into such trite banalities. Instead, you settle yourself deeper into your armchair, continue your exploration of the warm fur of her pussy with your fingertips, liberate another piece of chocolate from the bar by your side and convey it to your waiting mouth.

One must set boundaries you think as you tune out the sound of a cupboard door shutting just out of eyeshot and turn your attention back to Earth, rising towards the centre of the window now in all her luminescent-orange glory.

Taylor Swift Stories

I spoke to Tayor Swift last night. I took her hand and we went astral travelling. We rose up through the ceiling; that wasn’t the only limit we transcended.

One of the times, two of the other times, three times of the only time we had together. We sailed to the moon and when it went out we went back. You can’t travel too far when the sun’s shining. It blocks something important that’s necessary for getting away from your body: sleep.

“Do you sleep in the sunshine?” she asked of me.

I told her “rarely. You?”

She told me “often.”

Seems that she stays awake long after midnight to sift through the things in her mind and then she writes them in long, black books with padlocks.

“What do you do with your midnight stories?”

“I make them into songs that inform their heart of my heart. If I send a song to them then they will hear themselves. They will hear their own heart through mine.”

I raised an eyebrow.

She noticed, smiled and said “I hope. I do hope they can hear their own hearts. I hope they know that I’m the same as them. Obviously, I have money and a modicum of self-awareness that I like to call talent. But apart from that they’re like me.”

“I hear some of the rich and famous like you too.”

She took my chide at face value. My face had a smile on it and so she mirrored it. Reminded me of neurolinguistic programming. Reminded me of mirror neurons. Reminded me of Taylor Swift. Everything reminds me of Taylor Swift when I listen to her songs while I’m asleep and astral travelling.

Slipped Out of Reality (Almost)

I got these noise-cancelling headphones that don’t make my ears ache when I use them for hours on end while I’m walking through the coldly frozen streets while listening to some audiobook or Ex:Re (my new and latest and always (until the next one) love and while in the midst and throes of the former of these joys I came across a part of the book where it was describing a science fiction world where virtually everyone has been installed with a chip in their brain that allows them to access a virtual reality that replaces all their senses with something that’s computer generated and yet is ‘better’ than reality in that it gives you the ability to live out your most lovely and sensuous dreams and ignore the real world and the people within it including the ‘hero’ of this book (the name of which I’ll mention in the tags) whose name I can’t remember but he’s different because his brain isn’t compatible with the chips that everyone else is using and so he’s kinda excluded from the virtual world of 99.999% of the world and, totally understandably, he feels sad and left-out particularly as his wife is spending 23 hours of the day in virtuality and only coming out for four quarter hours so that she can feed herself, but anyway, as I was listening to this audiobook and walking the streets whilst enwrapped in the book and while I was passing people without acknowledging them I suddenly realised that I was in my own virtual reality, albeit one that was less immersive in that I was only using my hearing for the exercise, but all the same, I was … I am cutting myself off from the natural world and even now, as I type this to you with you thinking that I’m creating some kind of link with you I’m actually concentrating more on the music playing through my new noise-cancelling headphones than I am on you.

Make of me what you will.

Judge me too if you like.

Just don’t stop the music.

York Happenings from 2nd Oct 2022

Music: If you hurry up you can catch The Melody Makers at a pub called Victoria Vaults on Nunnery Lane, York on the 2nd of October where entry is free, but you’ll have to be quick because they start playing their vocal-harmony-based sixties-pop at 1pm sharp. If, on the other hand, you want more time to gird your loins, wait until Thursday the 13th of Oct when Will Young will be at York Barbican as part of his 20th-anniversary tour, with tickets a snip at a shade under sixty quid and the fun starting at seven in the pm.

Shows: For the learned among us the York Theatre Royal is putting on a play called A Room of One’s Own, billed as ‘Virginia Woolf’s Ted Talk trip through the history of literature, creativity and sexual politics.’ Lots of good reviews for this show which runs on the 6th and 7th of October. For those of us what is a bit more down-to-earth, why not try ‘The Hard Boiled Egg’ at half past eight on the 8th of October. This absurd monologue play explores life, death, love, loss and how to cook a hard-boiled egg and comes courtesy of the DramaSoc at Vanbrugh College, York University.

Dancing: Want your entertainment a bit more lively? Get out and boogie then! Roll up at ten tonight and dance until three at the ABBA Freshers Disco taking place in Kuda on Clifford Street. But if you don’t dig the disco beat then this one’s for you: the Ripon Motor Boat Club are putting on a Dinner Dance on the 8th of October at the Crown Hotel in Boroughbridge, York YO51 9LB at 1900hrs. Do dress to impress, dahling!

That’s it for your highlights, but if you want more then check the web for shows by Leo Sayer, One Direction, Uriah Heep and China Crisis: all in York this week as well as ‘A Psychoanalytic Dialogue With The Music Of Bach’ – I kid you not!

Whatever you choose to do, enjoy yourself and keep safe.

Went Well

I went to start to be trained up at York Hospital Radio last night and it went really well. I was shown around the studio and library and then got a chance use the equipment that I will broadcast with, when the time comes. So I know now how to use a gramophone, a CD player, a TV, a radio and a microphone on a show.

It felt odd to be using such archaic tech. I mean, I haven’t played vinyl for 20 years since my deck broke, and although I have many hundreds of records in the attic, they are doing nothing but gathering dust. Similarly with the CDs. It’s all digital these days. Anyway, I don’t suppose I’ll be using this old gear in anger much. Hopefully there’s a computer somewhere with some songs loaded onto it.

Anyway, gotta go – the missus is here saying something or other. Laters.

Trained Up

I’m starting with York Hospital Radio (YHR) tonight. Well, not starting starting, more like getting trained up starting.

I’m really excited about it.

Whilst I’m enjoying my stint at 5 Towns Radio, their setup is not quite as, shall we say, structured as YHR promises to be.

Plus, I’m getting invaluable training in the art of Radio Presenting for virtually (there’s a £45 membership fee) free! What more could a boy possibly want?

Right, I’m off the read the terms and conditions of my indentureship before I sign on the proverbial. Did I mention that I’m really looking forward to this? 🐸

What Goths Did Next

We all know what the goths did when goths were goths, but what did the goths do after they forsook gothness and became what they were afreewards? Well, listen up because I’m about to tell you.

They became people.

Yep, I know, that’s a shocker, right? Because, well, goths were so out there, weren’t they? You’ve got your Robert Smith of The Cure (he got fat), Nick Cave of The Birthday Party and The Bad Seeds (he became an author), Siouxie Sioux of The Banshees and The Creatures (… well, I’m not entirely sure what she’s doing now, but I’m sure she’s doing it with elan) and then there’s me.

Did you know I was a goth? Probably not; am I right? Even I didn’t really buy into my own gothness, and I was there! I mean, goth is all about black and spikes and shades and leather and I only walked that line to a certain extent. But hey, isn’t that true of us all? None of us are 100% dedicated to one cause. We have multiple facets to ourselves. That’s what makes us so fascinating.

For a start, I wore white. White jeans, white t-shirt (ripped (the t-shirt, not me)), white pointy boots and white bandana on my hair (only the once, though because some girls laughed at me on the bus, which put me right off). After that, I got darker. I switched to black canvas jeans and t-shirts with goth bands on them. And I got myself a leather biker-jacket (as you do). Oh, and swapped my boots for black pointy ones.

I only spiked my hair up once, as far as I remember. That was for a concert at Sheffield City Hall, where The Damned were playing. Which brings me back to what the goths did next. Some of them became amusing.

Captain Sensible is a prime example. He played guitar with The Damned but then, suddently, he became a pop star. Do you remember Happy Talk? Thebshow tune from the 1949 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical South Pacific? Well, Captain Sensible did a rather excellent cover version of it. Listen to it by clicking below (if you like):

I’d love to follow up all the other goth bands I knew and loved back then, but it’s time to cook dinner. All I have time for now is to share a playlist of my favourite goth songs that I made this afternoon. Feel free to check up on them yourselves and let me know. Here you go:


Traction on YouTube

You know, like, how I have a radio show on 5 Towns Radio (which I’m getting better and better at recording by the way, just in case you were wondering. If you’re reading this within an hour of me posting this article on my blog then you can tune in and listen to me right now (see link above) and I usually tell you which songs I’m recording and share the Playlist with you on YouTube. Well, here’s some good news: my YouTube Playlists themselves have started to get some traction too!

The last but one Playlist was called The Atmospheric Show and it’s notched up a very impressive (for me) one-hundred and seventy-four listens! I know! Amazeballs, right?

I’m about to record another show now, which is going to be called the Ambient Show. The playlist has only just been put together but you can jump the queue and listen to it right now, right here:

You’re very welcome. 🙂

Let’s Eat Grandma

What’s wrong with the title of this post?

Spotted it yet?

Yeah, you’re right, it’s missing some punctuation.

What’s right about the title of this post?

Give in?

Well, it’s the name of a band.

I’m not sure how active the band themselves are (itself is?) but I know that at least one of the members is still alive and kicking and recording radio shows. I heard her (Rosa, I think) on BBC Radio One Relax, which plays songs that are like it says on the tin: relaxing.

Just looked the band up and they are still going. They’ve had two albums and they have a third out on April the eighth (not an easy word to spell) this year (2022 for those of you checking in on me from another century). I’m going to listen to some of their songs because Rosa sounds nice and she played one of her band’s songs and that was nice too.

I’m not going to give you a link because I know you never click on them. Nevertheless (great word) you’re welcome to look them up on the internet. Do it quick before the internet stops. You just never know, right?