Shock

Well it's not every day that you get told that if you touch even a drop of alcohol in the next 2 weeks, you'll end up in hospital...

It's going to be a very boring two weeks, that's all I can say!


JL

Isn't it funny how....

things can really knock you for six.

One of my friends went missing last night - he was supposed to be staying with us all weekend, but he never arrived. He was still missing at midnight when I went to bed - his phone was off, and not replying to messages. His plane had arrived at the airport, and yet he still hadn't arrived or contacted. Today, his phone was still off, text messages were not being delivered to it, and he was not replying to e-mails. I was sickly worried.

He's fine - he'd had his bag stolen at the airport he was coming from; the bag contained his passport, phone and wallet. He managed to e-mail me this evening to say he was ok, and to thank me for worrying about him. I was obviously very relieved as I was thinking of phoning the police if I hadn't heard by tomorrow. It also reminded me how important friends are, how I mustn't take them for granted, and how nice it is to feel appreciated and not taken for granted yourself.

These reminders are always timely - I feel one of the major reminders is slightly lateral to this - it has reminded me that I'm important too, and I must never forget myself: something I've been prone to doing recently. Having been at home alot lately because of a lack of money and unidentified stomach pains, I feel lucky to have had time to think about these things that happen in my much-quoted Rhythm of Life.

In further odd and unusual occurence, I was doing my shopping in Finchley Road earlier, and I saw an excellent bossa nova band playing in the O2 Centre. They were a fairly middle-aged combo and playing on a small stage. Unfortunately their cheap-sounding PA system, coupled with bad balancing, and shopping-centre acoustic did not do them justice. Although their music was slightly generic, they had, in my opinion, flashes of inspiration in their jazz fusion. It reminded me how I still hunger to get into the recording industry at some point in my life - that discovery of unsigned creativity is a very exciting thing. I've felt it before, and I'm sure I'll see it again. It makes life exciting having possibility in the future! In the same way, earlier today, more television work was mooted as a possibility for me by the production team. So that is good too.

Now sitting at home, as described above, I have time to reflect upon my revived friendship philosophies, my continued music industry ambition and excitement, and unexpected avenues of work.

A busy emotiono-mental day ...

Thank Friday it's tomorrow ;P


JL

I have spent most of my evenings at home with stomach pains for about a week: I'm never

17th September - Mombasa muse II

My position as I write

Holidays are childish things - you spend all of your time and money making them the best you can, then they run away from you like a dream lottery ticket. It seems only yesterday that I arrived here with Claire to visit Rel in Kenya, but tomorrow is my last day... see what I mean?

A catalogue of, to me, exciting things to report - I've swum with dolphins in the wild, swum over several coral reefs (and my legs have been eaten by the sun for doing so), been stung by a tropical jelly fish and so far lived to tell the tale (and no, I didn't wee on it - I'm English), had giraffes feeding from my hand, held a python, seen a baby hippo that has formed a relationship with a 130-year-old giant tortoise (I kid you not), realised by text message how most of my friends and surprising other people watch CBBC on a sunday morning (with me on it), and been on countless 'chav safaris' from the comfort of my own hotel.

It has also been fabulous catching up with Rel and learning all about her month or so in Nairobi, as well us enjoying her entirely uncompromising humour, generosity, friendship, and fabulousness once more! One of very few people I've ever met like this.

Holidays may be childish, but they are amazing; they can and have made me feel like a child. I have been on two amazing holidays lately, and both have freed my mind in a brilliant way. They have reminded me that I need to find time to relax within my relatively hectic day-to-day life. These recent ones have also taught me the value of doing different things with different people. I was inspired in Scotland by the scenery and by Hengar and Ben, by their different skills, by their diversity from me, their creative gifts, their beauty as people, and the way some tension I felt at the time allowed my mind to see clearly in its relaxed state. In Nairobi I have been inspired by Rel in her work and in her courage, by Claire in her success at becoming a solicitor and remaining a thoroughly super person. Obviously the two diverse places are inspiring in their own right.

Perhaps the life I lead and the places I lead it are inspiring to others - I'm never happy with things I do and places I go as a matter of course - but just maybe, like the emotional vampire I have talked of before, I am feeding off other peoples' lives in awe, for my own inspiration? It teaches me that I need to find a creative diversity through my life to relax, feel happy, and feel inspired.

Of couse hills are always greener on the other side - an overused contemporary proverb. But in my life, when I'm thinking clearly, half the fun is getting to the top of the hill to see that, just so you can go back the way you came, and have an ice-cream and a pint at the bar, and talk with what you love and what you know.

JL

15th September. Muse by the Indian Ocean

Like listening to an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical or a piece by John Rutter or even a song by Steps, it is odd how you find yourself enjoying them or parts of them, but secretly. I'm sitting on a sunbed that Rel reserved for me earlier this morning; the sunbed is under a palm tree. It is a truly lovely view - the sunbed is on a sun terrace overlooking the richly turquoise, boat-punctuated waters of the Indian Ocean. I am happy to admit that there is little secret about me enjoying this. I am however staying in a hotel that has challenged my deep-rooted prejudices of our British social constructs. Of course, all societies have their constructs: here, according to Rel, the interaction of individual tribes is still full of tension and prejudice - a construct, conveniently forgetting our own society, that we might find silly.

Spending time is this perfectly appointed hotel has given me cause to think a bit about my own thoughts, and the way my brain constructs society. The hotel is a temporary home for a range of people: from almost-twenty-first-time-holiday-together couples, to late 30s to mid 50s groups of organized 'sun holiday' types, to elderly couples and their friends. Most of these people seem to spend their holiday getting up as early as they can to reserve sunbeds with towels, having a large 'English' breakfast, starting on the beer (or vodka and sprite as I heard one lady ordering) by 10 a.m., a three-course lunch, maybe some pool volleyball with more sun and alcohol, followed by a three-course dinner, and then the faux-tribal entertainment and English-style disco provided by the hotel. I did catch myself wondering why these people had travelled so far for something they could get a lot cheaper and a lot closer to home in Tenereife... Oh yes, look he's shown his colours now - watch that society prejudice in action - watch it fell the trees of acceptability like a magic sword...

But there is an affinity; I am enjoying myself too. The view is fabulous and I enjoy being with Claire and Rel. Rel and Claire are sitting here too; Rel is reading War and Peace, and Claire is reading about the Devil and Prada (quite similar subject matters if you ask me). Presumably the people who are practising being English in a distant foreign country, the ones whom my socially constructed prejudice is looking down upon, are enjoying the views and enjoying being with others too. We're not so very different after all, except that just like with world religions, the smallest differences are the ones that create the biggest gaps. They (because the only collective noun I could think of was a 'trailer of Chavs') are no doubt more than slightly amused to see this not-quite-slim, bleached-white Englishman, who sounds a bit posh, doesn't join in with the organized games or the (faux)tribal dancing, is on holiday sharing a room with two girls (the source of many quizzical looks), and is sitting wearing shorts and a t-shirt on a sunbed in the shade whilst nursing his sunburn. It does sound ridiculous doesn't it? When I think about it, there is probably much more for them to giggle at - especially now as I'm surrounded by slim, attractive, brown, and defined bodies. But maybe it's ok - maybe they won't notice me - I'm sitting in my not-really-invisible, orange t-shirt, and desperately trying to keep hold of piles of papers that are preparing me for an editing course next week... But no matter how slight differences may be, I shall still be amused later whilst sitting by the sea with a glass of port, to hear the entertainment presenter come on to the stage a way behind me and say hello in Swahili: 'Jambo' (o as in box). This will be followed by a lilac scream of ladies replying 'Jairmboowww'.

Prejudice, what prejudice?

I'm off for a swim.


JL

Long-distance Jon

Where in the world has Jon been?




create your own visited country map
or check our Venice travel guide

Looking for people to make the rest of the world red with.... any offers? Asia and South America are the next targets.

List of (dis)association

On my way to Mombassa. What shall I take?

8 Pairs of Pants (stretching the limit of ones I own and want to wear)
8 Pairs of Socks
1 T-shirt to sleep in
3 Pairs of shorts (chords, white linen, blue)
1 Pair of swimming trunks (to be bought in selfridges at lunch time)
1 Pair of linen trousers (mosquito protection after dusk)
2 long sleeve t-shirts (mosquito protection after dusk)
2 shirts for the evenings
5 t-shirts for day wear
2 jumpers (one to wear on plane)
1 pair of jeans
1 pair of sandals
I-pod charger
Phone Charger
Camera Charger
Camera
Spare memory card
Camera to ipod transfer device
i pod
phone
Passport
Sunglasses
Marmite
2 Bottles of Gin for Rel
Stationery for Rel
1 Bottle of port for us
Jungle Formula
Sun cream
Toiletries
Situational sundries
Manuscript Paper
Note book
Editing to do for a course next week
Durufle requiem.
Flight Socks
Spare Book
Scrabble travel.
Headphones

Is it time to go yet? Pleeeeease


JL

Judgement Day

Tonight I played the harpsichord, albeit breifly, in the memorial concert for a violinist who was a principle in the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, and amongst many other things, the leader of the The Bridgewater Band with whom I play. It was a fabulously attended concert - there must have been almost 350 people there. My engagement was simply to play in Pachelbel's Canon - which I did with as much aplomb as is possible with that piece.

Pachelbel's Canon started me wondering about how I judge music. It is a very well known piece of music - everyone, or mostly everyone with in the social construct that is middle class, would recognise it. Musicians tend to look at it suspiciously like it has just walked in off the street with no clothes on. Why do I judge pieces of music other people write as either good or bad? Surely it's this conditioning thing again, and thus how the music reacts with my brain.

There was judgement going on tonight, but in lots of different ways. The music of Pachelbel's Canon didn't excite me like the music that I usually play with that orchestra - there is usually raw passion and excitement going on around me. Obviously I was happy playing, but I didn't walk away with that feeling of fulfilment. The orchestra tonight was augmented by a significant number of RPO players, who were there because of passion. Passion not necessarily for the music, but passion for their late friend. I hope when I go, that half as many people turn up to enjoy their passion and have a good time together. To the extra people there tonight, that violinist, that person, that friend meant a lot to them. They had judged him too - and from what I picked up, they judged him very highly.

It is a shame that we have to go through our lives judging ourselves as failing, when ultimately the test, at least of some success, is the way people hold you. I look at myself and wonder what I'm doing wrong, why I don't feel successful and happy, and I move on to the next thing that will try to gain a feeling of fulfilment. I look at others doing their jobs, and I wonder how they can be so happy when what they do is apparently futile. Of course I have the highest respect for them, but I am seeing lots of people doing unnecessary things in order to improve their judgement of themselves. The people tonight were doing something they wanted to, and at the end had judged the brilliance of their friend for him with a triumphant roar of Mozart and Beethoven.

In awe of the concert whilst walking back along Euston Road, I returned back to my usual judgemental self - a woman passed and I thought she looked like a comedy secret agent dressed up to look old, and then I passed people sitting outsite a pub at Baker St pretending to be in continental cafe culture but instead breathing horrid fumes.

We are funny beings. Everything has to be good or bad, and we always need to better ourselves, but sometimes, we really do miss wood for trees.

Rambling Jon

night night

JL

Purple Grass

It was going to be a surreal day on thursday; from the very earliest indications, there was to be nothing real about it. The day started and I was walking through Richmond. A lovely place is Richmond - if it wasn't for the 747s that fly at grabbing distance from the quaint High Street, you might think you were in rural Buckinghamshire. Whilst trying to ponder whether planes were beautiful and a miracle of human engineering or simply noisy and uncomfortable environment wreckers, I spotted 'The Springfield Pharmacy'. What could be more surreal? I expected to find myself morphing into the familiar yellow cartoon form. Unfortunately for you, I did take a photo of the said pharmacy, but I have lost the cable that would transfer it to my computer.

The surreality continued. I arrived home to change for work, and I was approached by an old white haired man with the thinnest frame you can imagine. He was also shorter than me - it is possible! He recounted the story about a lady dressed in white who had fixed his lock, stolen two bottles of red wine, taken the money for another one, had not returned with the wine, and had in addition stolen his phone. At this point he showed me several T mobile leaflets. I assumed that the man was either senile or delusional, maybe both. He told me he was going to the police station to report it - I found myself wondering at the scene in the police station, and exactly how often he went there to find company. Slightly surreal.

My afternoon was spent sight-reading various John McCabe/Giles Swayne-type pieces to find out how they sounded. I maintain that I still don't really know how they sounded.

After work, I went for a drink with Gary in Bar Acquda. Not so surreal until they charged us £3 for two pints of beer. Bar Acquda has just jumped up my list of favourite places to buy a drink - I can't remember the last time I bought a pint in London and cost £3 - let alone 2 pints of beer. Goodness me.

On my way home, I did some quite unusual things. I went to selfridges and browsed the swimming trunks. Obviously for a reason - I'm going to Kenya on Monday, and the hotel I'm staying in has a very fun looking pool complex. My current swimming trunks are chlorine faded. No swimming trunks, but I purchased a new front bike light for £25 - I almost told them to go and visit Bar Acquda to learn about good pricing.

Then I cycled home in the dark for the first time. Finchley road was full of people parked in the bus lanes and seemingly waiting for something - probably to pull out in front of cyclists and knock them over. I shouted some very non-polite things on that journey home.

Was my day surreal? It felt it was, but I'm not sure it was anything apart from unexpected reality - nothing had been planned to happen. I felt afterwards that I wanted it to be surreal. Reality and Surreality are much-quoted concepts - I think about them much. In some ways travelling away on holiday is a surreality but a surreality within a reality. Can it be surreal if you knew it was coming? We all need surreality to aspire towards in our realities, otherwise the thought that a day might be just normal would send us on a gradual decline to coma. Yes, yes, I know that the surreal is against reality, and that it may seem stupid to try and point out that one exists inside the other, but I think that the dreamlike qualities of the concept exist quite happily inside the monotony of a container. I'm sure that the universe, God's surreal place, exists quite happily in a galactic tupperware container of some sort.

My surreality is a feeling to. I once wrote a song with a friend called 'I feel surreal'. I hope that I feel surreal tomorrow too. I rather like things happening that I don't expect - like someone giving me money, friends doing spontaneous things without me feeling I'm making all the effort, a promotion, a free dinner, someone I don't know smiling at me. When was the last time you made someone you know (or someone you don't know) feel surreal? There is nothing better than making someone's reality more enjoyable: there are too many tensions and stresses in life - do it - make yourself giggle as well.

I'm off to purple.

Grass

Blue bears

Well life is about picking up experiences and today was a new one. I was being filmed by CBBC teaching a glove puppet called Nev to play the piano. It is for a program called Smile which is on Sunday mornings.

A fascinating insight into the world of childrens' television, it will be even more fascinating to watch the fully edited clip. Although it won't be my first BBC appearance, it will be my first speaking appearance. I suppose it is appropriate for me in my madness to be seen talking to and hugging a mischevious blue bear.

Funnily enough, having spent a week on holiday with my friends who are confirmed Star Trek fans, and lovers (in the admirer sense) of Patrick Stewart, the puppeteer looked almost exactly like Jean-Luc -it was uncanny. Now what is life trying to tell me there?
You watch - tomorrow I'll be a TV presenter. That would be an unusual career change!

JL

The Skye's the limit

I can't remember a holiday like it. Today, I spent the morning in bed writing and looking at photos, this afternoon I visited my parents and showed them my photos, and this evening I have been looking at my photos and the photos on Ben's website.

A triumph of holidays. I can't get over how happy and relaxed I feel. If you would like to share in the joy, you can visit these places below

Jon's Skye Photos
Ben's superior photos gallery 1
I wish I took photos like this gallery 2


JL

Skye sky II

Here is a second set of photos - does anyone know why I'm having difficulty uploading photos to blogger.com? They randomly go on or not at all, and then if they don't. the only way is to start a new post.

Don't forget the croutons:














Somewhere over the rainbow:














Candlelit dinner Mrs Bucket:














Over the sea from Skye:














Jonny and Benjay relaxed and happy in sepia:














Cloudplay:














Over the sea from Skye:














Sunset on our beach:

Skye sky

Hengar, Benjay and Jon try-out self-timer function on the rocks:















Muso Muse:














The gritted-teeth 'will you stop taking photos' photo:














The sun playing in the water:














The sun's vanity - looking in the mirror:














The sun on fire with pride at this beautiful place:














Jon, Hen and Benjay try the self-timer with hilarious results..














What's that coming over the mountain? :














Hengar, Benjay and Jon using the waitress function on the camera:

The Acuity of Balderdash

I like holidays. In fact, ever since I can remember, holidays have always excited me. It is quite bizarre for me to get excited by them as usually I get excited by things that are not planned in any way (or shape or form). About spending time with three friends in Skye however, I was undoubtedly excited.

On the face of it, picking someone up, giving them at least one (usually) stressful day of travelling, putting them in a place they don't know with a language they maybe don't speak, placing them with people they would not usually live with, and telling them to get on with it is surely a recipe for disaster? It sounds like the ingredients for a stress and panicked week have all been carefully measured by Miss Delia 'don't whatever you do be creative' Smith.

I can see the old 1980s TV advertisements for Lunn Poly now that tell me to 'get away' and infer my relaxation; personally I can't think of anything less relaxing than some of the places they wanted to send people, but nevertheless, these adverts inferred relaxing. So in my British middle class way, I arrived in Scotland, ignored my Easyjet Easydelay™ (I think I feel a post coming up about airlines), laughed off the hundreds of pounds taken off my credit card for a hire car, told myself that the country was beautiful and that a 6 hour drive was worth it, and proceeded to be relaxed. But was it really relaxation?

When I was younger and more naive about emotion and state, I used to believe in a cycle of happiness. In fact, to an extent, I still do, it is just more clouded by the cynicism that comes with living and working in London. I used to tell people in a styled quasi-wise manner that if they pretended to smile and be happy, then it would affect the people around them, who would either pretend to be happy too or genuinely respond happily, and then your eventual neuro-response would be to smile and actually become happy yourself. This theory is one I try not to think too much about any more, because putting it into practice can make me seem a bit odd!

Yes, of course my cynicism about relaxation and happiness is unfounded. Travel and money aside, I felt awe at the beautiful scenery my eyes were feasting on, and actually during the holiday I felt pure relaxation and girlishly-jumping happiness on a number of occasions. There were a number of occasions too that I felt I ought to be happy and relaxed when in fact I wasn't: it is those moments which the cycle comes into play the most.

The problem is with my brain, it can never, at a particular moment, accept the existence of these pure states of happiness and relaxation, and it does strange things. Actually this move from usual life to holiday, with all the indications of Miss Smith's Stress Mousse, turns out of the oven lacking the stress factor. There is something wonderful about seeing new things and experiencing them with people you love and adore and being able to hoard their reactions and their joint reactions. But because Dynamics of holidays are often more complex and unstable than normal 'what-we-know' life itself, we become susceptible to things that are usually stable in our home environment. I don't think I have known a holiday without tensions.

In Skye, it was an interesting situation - there was not anywhere to escape to as we were often inside with howling wind and rain, there was no phone reception so we couldn't go and phone people in a 'you can't believe what he/she just did' sort of way, and our relationships became very organic. It was interesting that when I felt tension or when I felt left out or that everyone suddenly didn't like me, that there also seemed to be tension generally, when I felt happiness there seemed to be happiness generally. However, I did experience some personal lows that were horrid - an opposite of the highs that were wonderful. It is interesting that the brain feels a need to go through these emotional scenarios whilst one is feeling 'relaxed'.

Of course, it is very much that in a busy life where I am constantly identifying my own actions and how they have affected others, it is very difficult to switch off from the need to think, and to just relax. Or can we 'relax' at this moment...

It has made me wonder about relaxation as a state. Yes I was excited before holiday and excited during the holiday, but not after the holiday; travelling back yesterday, I was in a bad mood - I felt that everyone was ignoring me when I asked things, that everyone was talking to one another but not to me - the excitement had worn off. During the holiday I was relaxed, but felt tensions. Sitting in bed now writing this entry, I feel relaxed - very relaxed - totally relaxed. My mind has forgotten its silly scenario wanderings during the week, yesterday's bad mood has evaporated into my more realistic 'stop reading into the natural peaks and troughs of interractions with others' state, and my mind is truly relaxed remembering a week of fun, new scenery, beautiful sights, beautiful friends, companionship, laughter, good food, good wine, and actual joy. If someone gave me what I perceive to be pure relaxation for an entire week I don't think I would accept it.

So, relaxation is a state post-event for me. Why was I excited? I was excited because I hunger for the things that will make me relaxed once the event has passed. The experiences will remain with me as a feeling of relaxation in my life for a good time yet - the love and friendship I feel for my friends will be enhanced by the emotional scenarios and become stronger. In any stress likely to come in the next long while, I will be able to feel relaxed and warm by recalling those images of holiday.

Excitement is hunger. Yes I hunger for experience the whole time. Excitement is lust. That is why I get excited. I lust for new experience - I hate normal.

Relaxation for me is much more about the aftermath. I hear you ask about the relaxation I mention whilst running about girlishly. I lied. It happened in different peaks, but the girlish bit happened only once on the holiday. Like a VU meter reading the peak on a sound mixer, that was my 'clip' - the point at which any further signal would need condensing - it has registered the height of the relaxation by which I shall remember the holiday.

Thank you guys for a wonderful holiday. I'm excited. Can we go again? Would it be better? Would it be the same? You see, I'm excited now for the new experience.

JL