Patience

On my way to St. Alban's Abbey today, I found myself at Euston station with a ticket in my hand and ten minutes before my train. Sensibly I thought this would be an ideal moment to get some lunch and so I went to Marks & Spencer. Predictably, being a bank holiday, the station was full of people, and so was M&S. During the week when I visit Euston, there are about 10 cashiers on duty; clearly a bank holiday only needs three. In addition, all the people with lower salaries come out of the woodwork on bank holidays meaning that there is a higher proportion of people paying at the tills with coins counted to exact addition. By the time I reached the front of the queue, I was very agitated and dropped my belongings and soon-to-be purchases on the ground. I looked up to see my cashier had the name badge 'Patience'. Needless to say, the irony of this tickled me. My journey was successful, but only after I just (and impatiently) managed to discover my train at an unmarked platform number 17.

Patience has been on my mind lately, and as ever with concepts like that, you notice so much relevant in the world around you once you are thinking about it.

One of my friends has been in hospital for a week after, randomly and for no obvious reason, rupturing the arteries in his head. I also went to see a friend give a recital at the beginning of his professional career as a singer. The two incidents together have made me think of mortality and fragility of MY life as well as who i am and what I do. On the face of it, everything is well: I have a burgeoning career as a music publisher and I manage to run a fairly lucrative freelance career alongside it. For some reason, however, I'm not happy and fulfilled, and haven't been for sometime. Immediate reasons for my uncomfort are the tensions at home, my perpetual singleness, and my sudden loneliness from close friends. Naturally, a snapshot of a life never reveals a true story or the real reasons for things, but real feelings in motion. Of course, those who know me might tell me to have 'patience'. The truth is that I do have considerable patience but that it has now worn very thin on several key points of my life. It has been a decisive weekend of thought certainly, but also I ended up doing something I never thought I'd do and I hate myself for it. .. at the moment!

Why else decisive? I have been asked to accompany my most favourite piece of music in November. It is quite a coincidence since I have listened to it most days recently when distressed. Oddly I have never played it before and have always wanted to but believed it too difficult.

Where does patience come into this rant? Life is all about markers and the energy they give us. To my choir in Cambridge I used to describe musical moments of potential energy as 'zero gravity' moments. It gave a useful image to image weightlessness before the onset of gravity and engaging of potential energy. We live our lives though these markers (or zero gravitys) and they constantly propel us to on to the next one. I suppose you might call them goals, except for the fact you don't necessarily know that they are going to happen. It is the ability to keep happy the potential energy between markers which keeps life fluid.

In discovering markers this has been an important weekend. However at the moment I seem to be stuck in a stasis of zero gravity with lots of potential markers, but none to engage with or grab. Depression and personal loneliness are both conceptual in my world, so I await the rebirth my mental struggling gives way to. It goes to prove that patience is such an important part of life, and had I not been stuck in that queue at Marks and Spencer, I would never have linked all this together.

Busy Jon

Well, Jon has been busy. Emotionally I've had the worst time in about 3 years, musically I've been busy playing, my work has been busy and I've been socialising lots.

You may have noticed a decrease in the frequency of posting; this is down to busyness, and a total lack of mental capacity to be musing.

What is the solution? A day off work, breakfast at my favourite delicatessen, coffee at patisserie Valerie, 1-hour long full-body massage at Selfridges, and then Gordon's Wine bar with some of my philosophites.

Oh yes! A joyful day. I had forgotten how good a massage was. I felt $100 after it was all done and fully relaxed. Alas it is bank account heavy, but much worth it.

Anyway, a few images:

Have you seen my mummy?

Well now I'm a MA. Not as in mother, but as in Master of Arts. Master Lee is very masterly, one might say. So, a couple of photos from my weekend.

College at night from the Senior Guest Room:


Wrong in SO many ways:

Before becoming a Master... academic pose:

The new Master Lee:

London is an amazing city

When I have a bad day, there are various things I do to cheer myself up. One of the most effective is to spend time walking along the South Bank in the sunshine amongst the bustle, then to go and sit on a staircase that leads down from the embankment to the beach. The soothing water laps, the river traffic goes back and forth, there is happiness coming down from the South Bank, and there is the amazing London skyline. It never fails to right a day, or to make a problem objective. How many people in history have discovered this amazing power of London I began to wonder......

Monday thoughts

1. I hate April showers in May. Where has the sun gone?

2. Do people on the tube look so miserable because there is an increased centrifugal force of gravity underground that pulls their muscles down?

3. Everytime I get on the tube, I become convinced that it is run by a network of loonies who left intelligence and logical thought at home for the day

4. I'm really looking forward to going to Skye in August and doing things like nothing, and visiting the Outer Hebrides.

Suspiciously super sunday

I've had a super sunday. I don't know why. It could be because of a nice weekend that started on Friday after I had some happy understanding of something that had been vexing me. Two entries in one day shows a bit of happiness. After church this evening, I came home and had a lovely meal with my housemates (with a bottle of St. Emillion... not that that makes any difference of course....).

So, some observations to begin what I feel will be a positive week:


1. Why are the football supporters I see on the tube often fat, ugly, unrefined and badly dressed when their idols/ teams are often slim, attractive, aspire to be riche and dress well when off the pitch?

2. Will Christian Aid be surprised if they get bad press from traditionalists when they bring (lovely) hymns from the middle of Africa to their service that no congregation can understand the rhythms of let alone sing in the context of group worship? I love African music (obviously) and I firmly believe everyone is entitled their own style, but surely if you are promoting unity in purpose through Christ, then you should use good old songs that everyone will know and feel part of?

3. The same person who put the bible together was essentially responsible for the foundation of the beliefs of the Catholic Church. If you want to read scripture literally therefore, shouldn't you read it in ancient greek rather than a spurious translation?

4. On platforms along the line in about three places, the Victoria line has compressed air generators. Assuming there must be miles of tubing to reach the farthest distance from the generator before the next generator along will reach, surely the air becomes less compressed a few miles down, and therefore useless? Is that why the lines are falling apart?

5. As Johnny Clegg alluded in his song 'African Sky', one can really miss the African sunset on the west coast; I fell in love with it 8 years ago. The sunset in London makes me smile with love in my heart, but it is nothing compared to Cape Town. Still... there have been some beautiful dusks on the river over the past few days. It makes me love London. One day this week I will go and sit by the river with a bottle of wine, and watch the first sundowns of summer. Glorious.


And to end off, a few photos of what Jonny has been up to:

Playing/ flying Gavin's organ last Sunday morning. I want an instrument like this. There should be a safety announcment before pressing all of these buttons and travelling down the runway to enlightenment:




Me and Nicola being silly:



A beautiful summer sky on thursday evening in Greenwich:




I was proud of this still art:

Jo(h)n player special

I used to work in an off-licence for money. Yes, I did say 'for money', just in case you thought I did it for pleasure (and to underline that I wouldn't have done it if somebody had offered me a fortune to be a kept woman). An off-licence in middle-England, (a type of sutre between middle class and hobbit land), is the sort of place one goes to buy your product with satisfaction and a hint of pride:

'I'll have my daily litre of sherry please. Yar that one as usual'

or

'I'll have a packet of JPS. No, not those, the ones I always smoke, what?'

It used to drive me insane being treated like an unintelligent oaf, and towards the end of my time there, I would have books open on the counter about the octotonic or showing complex numerical analyses of music. Obviously I couldn't understand most of it myself; I wanted people to think before they assumed I worked in a shop because I was mentally retarded and that they could thus win any situation they started. It still happens in life, and there are some people who know me who feel the need to overexplain things at me, and it drives me up the wall. Just because I don't partake in discussion, it doesn't mean I haven't understood; I understand and follow about 50% more than people think sometimes - I just don't like arguing. Obviously in the off-licence, the simple example is:

'Yar, a packet of JPS, that's John Players Special by the way!'


I was talking to a friend that other day about conversations you can have with some people and never have to explain anything at all. This happens to me most often with Ben and Rel. They are the most creative discussions ever - like a drug. It is funny how frustrating it is when there is not an intellecual connection to people I'm talking to. Maybe this lack of connection then comes across from me just like I have explained above - annoying to the other person. Maybe I am just as bad? Probably. It's all about spending time with people so a frightening/ frighteningly wonderful telepathic connection seems to exist. [I do love that juxtaposition - when something is so frightening, it is wonderful].

Anyway, this friend and I also spent time talking about a religious man we used to know. When we knew him, we were always overawed by his sense of dedication, his cleverness and his compassion. However this friend and I have both fallen out of touch with him because he never returns e-mails except when he has a favour to ask. We knew him very intimately in the line of work, he was always charming and we thought the connection would remain a long time after we finished our work together. We decided that Mr Religious is a bit of a player: this, of course, is not as in a cad and bounder. A player here is somebody who plays chess in order to win - a person who uses pawns to achieve his ultimate 'check-mate'. Mr Religious now has a blooming career, and we never get any response from him. Obviously when we meet him next, he will be charming and as genuine as he ever was: one does not easily forsake being a man of God. Our use to him, however, is nowadays negligible.

If that sounds like an admonishment from Lord Jon, it is not! 'Hypocrite', I hear you shouting. Should I be Patrick Troughton, at this stage I would smile and move my head down and say 'Oh yes', and then frown violently and say, 'No! I will not submit'.

Diversion. Totally tangental. I know. But I do play the recorder.

We are all players aren't we - even if we don't mean to be. I spot myself afterwards rather than during. Life is a play, and we are the directors of our own plays. We use the actors who are good for us, who fit the roles we need: I phone particular friends when I'm in need of different things. Sometimes actors phone us and ask to be involved in a particular scene: sometimes friends phone and ask to be part of the current life. When the play changes, we can use different actors depending on specialities: when life moves on, different people arrive and are found. We are all players, surrounded by a wooden stage - never is the saying so true:

'The stage is the same, it is just the players who are different'.

Of course, one of the beauties of life is the way we hold on to important things through emotion. I have happiness in that a number of people I know will act in my plays as long as I produce them; I have great fear that some of the best actors I know will grow tired of my plays and move on to bigger and better things.

This is not an original thought, and I'm not dressing it as such. It is just a thought. Some things I'm learning about writing a blog/gallery and my different groups of readers:

a) Those who read it, smile, and think that I've missed the point/ was never quite there academically
b) Those who read it and pick up the nuance and meanings
c) Those who read it for enjoyment of someone else's rant
d) Those who are bored and stumble across it accidentally

Each of those are very worthy readerships and it underlines something I've said all along to people: that the beauty of reading/ hearing someone else's (even passing) thoughts can inspire creativity and insight in your own. A muse for tangentalism (just like Patrick Troughton..). It is for that reason my life is a play - each player is different, and they all bring something unique to

Jon's players special.....

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We apologise for that last very bad joke, and would like you to know that the person responsible for that last joke has been sacked. We will start again in a totally different style and.. umm

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Don't count stars or you might stumble

Oh dear. Having started a rant like the one on Sunday, I suppose I ought to try and finish it somehow. I fear it is going to be a trilogy at least. It is funny how emotions interfere with logical thought and create a degree of uni-dimensional thought.

Recently I have immersed myself in the world of Anne Rice's 'Interview with a Vampire'. Again, coincidence in time, but the reading of it has been highly relevant to my thoughts. Happily I am cynical in my view on the existence of vampires: in my opinion pure fantasy. Narrow-minded perhaps, but I have limited belief in magical powers and immortality being bestowed during a simple blood transfusion. However, the concept is curious, and transposes to a big part of my life. You need to know that when a vampire is created by another vampire, a strong bond of attachment and 'love' is created between the two; all by blood exchange.

My muse has been on friendship. It is a very simple word which describes so much: I suspect that the philosophy of a word being a label for something that exists is quite appropriate. In the same way that the ancient greeks had 3 different words for love, there should be an argument for never-ending words of friendship. I love all my friends to a particular extent, but obviously that has severe variation; perhaps the problem of language is that for me to catergorise groups of type of friend/love is always going to be a compromise.

How does this relate to vampires I hear you ask? Well tonight I met someone for a drink and dinner who I have known in passing for years since university days, but never actually had a long conversation with him. These days I rarely have the tenacity or the patience to spend time getting to know new people, unless I judge them special and amazing. Having dinner this evening reminded me how exciting it is getting to know new minds and new thoughts. I have a close group of friends whose minds and souls I have gradually been getting to know, and whose being resonates so strongly with mine that I would go to the ends of the earth for them out of love. It occurred to me that the 'soul exchange', albeit a gradual process, was very similar to the way the creation of a vampire is described by Rice. Similarly a bond is created: in some cases, such a strong bond that it hurts.

Of course, friendship is totally evolutionary, and it is always wrong to think that it will continue in the way it is for more than a fleeting moment of joy. It is like a river that flows: a friendship must always move and go to new places - if it stops it either becomes stagnant or it is being stopped for the benefit/abuse of others, like a dam; it is only with settling down that the friendship will become consistent - in its estuary. However, I do believe that friendships that have reached the top level, the vampire level, have created plug sockets between two people that can easily be rewired instantly. It is healthy always to unplug, allow contacts to be cleaned and refreshed, and to reinvigorate the longevity of the friendship. In the past I have had one or two of these vampire level friendships be ended forcibly: it is the most horrid and wrenching feeling I have ever experienced apart from bereavement and grief. Thankfully one has now been reinstated, and I was delighted to see how easy it was, and how simply the distrust and suspicion built up evaporated. It is amazing to think how strong these bonds are. I love life because of it, and because of the people I'm bonded to - even if my emotion does get the better of logic at times.

The vampire analogy is of course flawed in that the creation of a vampire is an act of death and immortality, whereas the creation of friendship is an act of life which is limited by mortality. Thank goodness there is an evolution otherwise if friendships always continued getting better, forcible removing as an inevitable conclusion to life would destroy me.

The song 'I've got you under my skin' comes to my mind.

I think that's enough for one night. Emotion soon.....