Muso muse

The best birthday card ever

2008-07-10T00:30:00.001Z

Thank you Ben! Jimmy Saville failed when I was 6 to get me in the TARDIS with Peter Davison. You have succeeded. There is a shell suit in the post.

TARDIS for sale, one careful owner..

2008-07-08T13:47:00.002Z

Well, now I've built a TARDIS, what comes next. I promise that there is no sawdust in the gearbox. I'll sell it in exchange for a house overlooking the sea in Scotland.

Letter to the Mayor

2008-03-12T20:44:00.002Z

Dear Sir,

As a Londoner and a regular user of the transport facilities, one cannot miss the ‘communications’ from ‘Transport for London’. Clearly your communications team would not be doing their job if Londoners and visitors were missing the posters, leaflets and announcements.

I do, however, believe that there is a gap in your communications team for an Editor, who would make sure that communications are correct when presented to the public. Consider this poster as an example:

A big poster that is supposed to engage Londoners with the improvements taking place, and keep them informed of the changes to their network. This was clearly not checked – you cannot have ‘less delays’ – it does not make any grammatical or linguistic sense. It should, of course, be either ‘fewer delays’ or ‘lesser delays’ depending on what you are trying to say. Similarly just a bit further down, the poster says ‘a multi-billion pound upgrade’ – this tells us that the Jubilee Line is being made heavier, or that the coins used to pay for it are to be refurbished. Naturally, it should be ‘a multi-billion-pound upgrade’. My purpose in writing is not to lecture on language, but I would be happy to explain both of these further should you wish me to.

Another example might be on the Jubilee Line. The digital announcements regularly say: ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, there is currently a good service operating on the Jubilee Line this morning’. This is linguistically impossible because it is tautologous – it is like me saying: ‘I am right at this moment going to buy a car this morning’ – totally nonsensical.

My last collected example is that when I passed through Kings Cross Underground Station last week, an announcement said ‘The Victoria and Hammersmith and City Line is running with minor delays’. Again, this is nonsensical – there is no such line as the ‘Victoria and Hammersmith and City’.

As I have mentioned, I am a Londoner; I am also an Editor for a publishing house and I firmly believe that London should have a transport system that is world-leading. Regardless of how people might generally perceive the importance of English grammar and language, I do not think it is right for an organization that needs to command the respect of people across all spectra, to be slack and incorrect in its home language. It is fine when creating a trendy and catchy pun/play on words – but to me and to doubtless many others, the examples I give just look and sound messy and amateur.

Should it be of interest to you, I am looking for a change of direction in my own career. If the situation were mutually suitable, I would happily work for TfL as an Editor making sure all public communications were correct and professional. If you have someone doing this job already, it is clearly not being done satisfactorily. I suspect you do not have someone in the position ¬– maybe if you did, it would stop annoying letters like this one, and command you greater respect with powers that be.

With good wishes

Yours sincerely

Jonathan Lee.

Good moods

2008-02-07T18:58:00.000Z

It occurs to me that I should very probably be in a horrendous mood at the moment, if not that, almost certainly depressed. I'm not.

I wouldn't say I'm in a good mood – that would be overstating the fact, but I should be in a bad mood because:

1. I picked up food poisoning at the weekend and I am still not able to eat much let alone drink alcohol. It has also interrupted my half-marathon training, meaning I will have to nearly start again when I can actually run.

2. Orange, in their wisdom have managed to cut me off from their system and don't know how or why. They won't be able to fix it for a week. I can't phone or text and people cannot get hold of me.

3. I have no money. I have survived since Sunday on £30. I'm down to £20 and am not paid until 22nd.

4. I've been presented with a rather large tax bill for £1437. Even though last year I ticked the box saying I would like it taken through PAYE, Inland Revenue won't do it. So I need to find that money somewhere – perhaps I should offer them £2 from my remaining bank balance.

That's enough for the time being. As I say, surprising how I remain in a reasonable mood!

JL

Idle surfings whilst at home ill...

2008-02-04T20:53:00.001Z

Although some may see it as bad taste, I have found the very best excuse for being single possible - oh yes.

Click here for revelation

JL

Dear Sir, imagine my surprise

2007-12-29T16:56:00.000Z

29th December 2007

Operations Director
First Capital Connect

Dear Sir or Madam,

First Capital Connect (ex-Thameslink) line – Sunday 23rd December 2007

It is unusual to find it necessary to take the step of writing in complaint about a train service – here in the United Kingdom, it is almost expected for there to be problems with them. In fact, my occasional use of the railway service offered by the First group has led me to expect problems: but I am sure you are aware of this.

I write specifically to complain about the service I received on the morning of Sunday 23rd December. By profession I am a musician, and on Sunday mornings I am contracted to play the organ for a large parish church with a fine music tradition. In order to get to the church on this particular Sunday, I needed to get from Highgate to Kilburn (where my car was parked) and drive on the M1 to the church. Here is the key point: I planned my journey beforehand to make sure it was possible – from National Rail Enquiries (both online and by phone) at several points during the day I made sure that there was a train from Kentish Town to West Hampstead at 0736. At several points there was. When I got up at 7am on 23rd December, I checked once more – there was very definitely a train at 0736 (note – I say ‘a train’ – this is important to remember as I use National Rail Enquiries regularly and I am aware of how it denotes busses.) I am also fully aware that First Capital Connect ‘cannot be held responsible for information given by National Rail Enquiries’, but conversely, you can be held responsible for the information given to National Rail Enquiries. I should, once again, point out that at 7am, the information was that a service would run between Kentish Town and West Hampstead (taking 4 minutes) at 0736.

Arriving at Kentish Town station at roughly 0725, I noted from the platform indicator as well as the list of trains that the first train of the day had been cancelled and that the 0736 had been delayed until 0742. There were people still standing on the platform from the first cancelled train. It was fine because it showed the train on the platform indicator on the platform. Gradually the train was getting later and later, so at 0743 I pressed the information point and after about two minutes of ringing, someone answered. I enquired as to whether the FCC train would be running (actually, I enquired as to whether the Thameslink train would be running – the person at the other end seemed to find the change in company more important than the information I was after). I was casually informed, as if it were obvious, that there were no trains that morning and there were replacement busses to Mill Hill. Of course, I pointed out to the gentleman that there was no indication on the platform nor on the station that this was the case – likewise I pointed out that there had been no such information on National Rail Enquiries that day or in fact the day before and asked him to check again (presumably replacement busses are not able to be arranged Harry Potter-style at the flick of a wand). The other people standing on the platform underlined the lack of information just by being there. Anyhow, it was already passed 0745 and the train was still showing on the indicator as being due at 0745 and the other people were still on the platform. I rushed up to the station entrance – the member of staff knew nothing about replacement busses nor was there any clear place for them to go from. It strikes me as ludicrous that you, as a company, can get away with replacing trains with busses at late notice, not inform ANYBODY, and even more than that not provide a member of staff at stations to direct people. It is symptomatic of the bad service I receive 7 out of 10 times I use a line managed by First group – nobody will take responsibility for anything.

Clearly I was late for my work that morning as I had to then take the tube into London and out again. It did involve me driving dangerously along the M1 in thick fog to get there, but I was the lucky one; there were people on that platform due to take planes from Luton and they certainly did not look like the people who had purchased flexible tickets: I certainly hope that if their planes were not grounded by the fog, that they have claimed full compensation from you for their then invalid plane tickets.

In writing this letter, I do not expect any sort of compensation or any sort of response. I wrote to First group once before with reams of evidence of misinformation and being passed from pillar to post, and all I received was a one paragraph ‘round-robin’-type letter that is just like the one a long-lost relative sends to everyone at Christmas and often goes straight in the bin for being so impersonal. I am well aware that trains sometimes cannot run and must be replaced by busses – but how it cannot matter to you if your customers know or not is just ridiculous.

There is just disbelief in my mind that this situation can be allowed to happen and that there are clearly no processes in place to follow if there is a replacement bus service – even as much as automatically changing the platform indicators. Perhaps the people who are in charge never actually take the train because they can afford cars in London and are thus out-of-touch with what service consumers should get.

I sincerely hope that I do not have to experience this situation again.

Yours faithfully

Jonathan Lee

Lend me a sheckel

2007-11-25T22:17:00.000Z

I am very fortunate to have a great number of talented friends – some are excellent musicians, a few are wordsmiths of great ability, several just have minds that leave my brain choking, some lay their eggs in several baskets (and that’s me talking about metaphorical eggs of talent), but all of them have amazing capacity for love and friendship that leave me in awe of brilliant they are as whole people. Sometimes others don’t understand my view, often I don’t share my insight because you cannot force friendships.

One of life’s pleasures that I think we all overlook far too frequently, is the observance and awe of someone else’s skills. I find it amazing that I can know someone for ten years and still find out skills. As I did yesterday. My friend John flew me across from London Luton to Bucharest in Romania. Yes, that’s right, FLEW ME. Fully able to operate this inconceivable notion that 20,000 tonnes of metal and £30,000 of fuel, not to mention hundreds of passengers and bags, can be made airborne! Of course I knew he flew planes, but seeing it action is amazing – and makes me, as a friend, full of pride for this miracle of knowledge and learning. It was the same when I first discovered Rel’s mind and literary analysis, first saw Gavin’s music training skills, first read one of Ben’s poems and saw his drawing, first saw one of James’ shows. Isn’t it fantastic how life persists as a moving gallery of individuality – pictures at a moving exhibition.

Naturally, I told John how in awe I was at his abilities to fly a plane – to know what all those switches do. (A cockpit is the daily fix for a gadget lover.) At that point, John pointed out, that the same could be said when he first heard me performing music. It is true – that to me is just normal and not impressive at all – I don’t really believe I’m that unusual, but then for John, transferring this huge bird from one part of the world to another is merely normal.

I never forget the pride that occurs when I see a friend in action, propagating his or her talent, and it just heightens the love and bond I feel for them. It was the subject of muse this evening as I went for a walk around Bucharest in search of a beer and an explore of the nightlife. Crossing the roads around Pieta Unirii I spotted the complex logic of the road system. It struck me as faintly absurd how a nation that appears to have nearly as chaotic driving as Italy (oh yes – I know that’s bad!) is also able to navigate a complex road system efficiently. Yes, I’m aware that that is incorrect politically, but that is a rant entry one day. Certainly, we all assume chaos as being a disordered and maybe random thing. But chaos, I suppose is merely a concept that is attributed by the bystander – there is nothing to stop chaos being just a heightened logic – what appears chaotic may in fact be higher logic. Then there is the problem that the word ‘higher’ will need deciphering. Higher in this case is irrelevant I suppose. It is just another form of logic.

The same is true of talents – what may appear chaotic or higher is simply just another form. Just like the road system in Bucharest is designed for Romanian drivers (who are a bit like Italian drivers), and the road system in London is designed for British drivers (or their drivers!); a plane cockpit is designed for a pilot – not an organist.

It often makes me angry in life that the growing breed of ‘business administrators’ own (or rather try to own) the talents of these people. Yes, you are right, administering a business has a talent, but its skill is but common sense and the ability to theorize. Chief Executives of companies are paid to make creative and brilliant people work to their orders and consequently the whole force of humanity runs out of momentum and sensibility. Instead of being able to see and harness brilliance and the way it works, they push it so it runs dry – in order to make money.

Anyway, this started about talents and my brilliant friends who I love very much. Keep surprising me – you are all the heartbeat of life.

JL

The ONLY thing to do in London this weekend...

2007-07-23T22:22:00.000Z

AND watch this...

If you haven't watched it, go back and try again.

JL

2007-06-19T23:21:00.000Z

It's curious for me to realise that my last post was over a month ago. My head has only once been more full; you should surely be able to see this on this site? Of course you can - but recently my head has been so full and I have been so sporadic in life to tie down thoughts in order to write them down. It is also interesting that I'm not sleeping much. A great fan of sleep, I often find myself wishing that the day would continue so the next would not continue in the pattern things are assuming. At the moment, I am sitting on my balcony looking over the trees at the 'would-be-beautiful' but 'tainted-by-London-lights' sky. I feel real. I feel me. But I still feel unnecessarily aware of the monotony of my life. Alone. Lonely. Same as yesterday. No progression. No surprises.

We've all said it at some point. It is all a lie. We try to tie ourselves up - we are ashamed of our being. What we are looking for is not something new - I could keep jumping careers and up ladders until I'm dead. What we are looking for is excitement in the spontaneity of love. I've only fallen in love at the most twice, never reciporacated; the search will continue. I know and think that I try and push the abilities of people to help in that search. It is curious how in that particular search - in that curious desire, like more chilli in the curry, we force to find. In return, some amongst us find nothing but falsity and a crash.

Can one have half a dimension?

JL

NIght time brings...

2007-05-13T00:16:00.000Z

Knowing other people is intelligence, knowing yourself is wisdom. Mastering other people is strength, mastering yourself is power. If you realize that what you have is enough you are truly rich. Stay in the center and embrace peace, simplcity, patience and compassion. Embrace the possibility of life and you will endure.

A second is no more than a second, a minute no more than a minute, a day no more than a day. They pass. All things and all time will pass. Don't force or fear, don't control or lose control. Don't fight and don't stop fighting. Embrace and endure. If you embrace, you will endure.

2007-05-04T16:56:00.000Z

I left work this afternoon to travel to the British Library. Nothing unusual about that. I've been feeling very thoughtful recently - it always comes back to the same problem, and that is that I'm bored; because I'm bored, nothing surprises me anymore - my brain has slowed to the speed of the world around me.

Getting onto the circle line, the obligatory cruising man checked me out - in a totally non-surprising way, he picked up his mobile phone, presumably to check bluetooth for me, and presumably he found me. I just read my book because I didn't feel surprised or engaged by any of it. The tube train smelt of a stale fart - again, not surprising - it always does and always will; if the Romans had invented the London underground, you can bet that if would have smelt like a stale fart. Just before getting off at St. Pancras, a perfectly formed droplet of sweat formed on my upper back and travelled its way down, reflexing my nerves in a sensual but predicted way; this crystalline beauty of nature was destroyed and crushed by my synthetic shirt just as it felt cold above the waistband in the small of my back. A totally unsurprising pleasure.

The British Library is full of rules - in fact it is the most rule-ridden library that I've ever had the displeasure of dealing with. You're only allowed to order 10 books a day, you're not allowed to order images by letter, and things are totally inflexible when you ask nicely for them to be changed. But then, everywhere is like that now - we are a society thriving on equal rights, and in this country at least, people create rules in order to make people have authority. However, we all have our own rules, we all stubbornly give ourselves things we mustn't do, and reactions to something because we want to retain our authority as people - our pride and standing.

It occurred to me whilst I was musing about these things, that I can't remember the last time I was surprised by something or someone. I love beauty and perfection, and I see a bit of beauty and perfection in most things. On a proportional scale, the things that have more beauty and perfection I associate myself with more - my close friends I identify as having a beauty and perfection that attracts me greatly (obviously some imperfection is beautiful and attractive as well). Why, however, can't I be surprised? Why do I predict so well? Why am I always disappointed when something appears beautiful but is disturbed by life - just like nature's drop of sweat?

The truth is of course that I am bored, and the beauty and surprise is happening all the time. I don't allow myself to feel surprised because I have given myself that rule. Why, for example, am I surprised when friends reply to text messages, but disappointed when they don't? It is because I have a rule of politeness I adhere to - but that is not beautiful - it is a bad rule. What should be beautiful is that a concious decision is made not to reply - against a conditioned politeness, and creates in its wake a beautiful possibility. Alas, I would see this were I not bored.

Surprise is real. I met my friend Clare in the library. She is off to Los Angeles in a week to become a research fellow. We had coffee together and laughed and bounced ideas and became truly organic: I met Clare on my first day in Cambridge and she is fully spontaneous - it is her beauty. I was surprised, and enjoyed.

The question is, do I become boring and predictable by trying to surprise people myself? I believe I do. I like imagining peoples' reactions to things I do - I like people to smile as a result of Jon. Potential or metaphorical narcissus? Maybe. But am I predictable. Does one cease to be organic if you are bored? Do you work by rules?

Possibly.

Rel has been held up on the mongolian border for about a week with visa problems and trying to explain to people in a small Russian town in the middle of nowhere exactly what she is after. Frustrating to her - to me that sounds exciting - imagine waking each day with a slightly quick heartbeat - what is going to happen today?

I intend to be surprising and work my way out of my boredom. Life change is needed.

Surprise me by doing something out of character if you fancy it ...

JL

Variation versus synchronicity

2007-04-26T23:22:00.000Z

The brain is an amazing place. For the past four or five hours, my brain has been a mental fire and I have been jumping around trying to collect the blue oxygenated flames that lurk therein. I sit here in silence except for the beauty of the Goldberg variations and the sound of the trees in my garden, and with the cold breeze of the fully open window hitting my bare shoulder.

When I was a keen school pupil, I took time off school and went to a performance of Cosi at the Royal Opera House; it was a performance in modern dress. To this day, if you talk to me about this performance, I will tell you that it was uncomfortable - I'm one for period costume in Mozart. As my good friend David once said to me on the occasion of going back to College to pick up our MAs,

"the stage is the same, but the players are different".

I know I have quoted this before, but right now it seems to add to my thought.

*

When I was younger, I used to play hide & seek - it was a game: a childish game - it was fun. The best thing about hide & seek was that no matter how difficult the place you hid was to find, someone would always find you. What if no one ever found you?

My evening has been a bit odd because it all happened rather spontaneously - my mind is all over the place at the moment both in career terms and in personal terms (fundementally, I have a lot to sort out, but I've got to learn to be happy with my 'lot' first).

I found myself having a lovely dinner in Waterloo with Gavin and Nigel. On my way home, I noticed the buildings: isn't it strange how over the course of modern-human existence, our arguments remain the same, it is only the set that has evolved. In the modern religious wars (and the other major and minor arguments) there is very little changed about the script since the beginning of time, just the players and the set - just like the Mozart opera I went to see.

A city like London is such a construct. It is such a frail existence - it exists as a place humans like myself try to hide in - to continue our existence as set designers for the cyclical arguments of time; I could live in this hide & seek world forever believing I'm living the most exciting and most creative life imaginable - except that the real excitement is not there because noone will come to find me - I'm the only one who can find myself. I know that I'm about to directly contradict about 3 posts ago -but then any man who claims to have the answer to anything is just stubborn - I may have said this about 20 posts ago.

It is interesting that living in my city 'construct' there are two places I go to escape this non-reality; the first is the river - the most natural place within the city, and the second is my holodeck. Jon's holodeck is his close friends: it is a curious retrograde inversion that my holodeck is more real than the construct I live in. The problem with the construct is that it is full of stupid rules about how you must do things - how you must live. The city constuct is the breeding place for the ridiculous rules of society: take a look at this excellent cynical look at the rules we fall into line and follow -

These ridiculous rules have even infiltrated my holodeck. I am disappointed every time I try to be organic - it is ignored by the conscience of infiltrating rules. The most obvious parts of any script are the parts that are not there - the parts never acknowledged in communication. That said, I know I would be hypocritical were I to condemn this.

Thus far, my only answer to escape the false framework of hiding people within the city constuct of society's headquarters, constantly evolving to recreate the view of the computer game, is to escape to a wild place in the country next to the sea for ever. In order for it to work, I would need to take my close people with me... but I can't... it is too late... we are all bitten by the construct sooner or later - do you remember the computer game 'lemmings'? Why can't people be real any more? Why can't people express organic feeling? Why is everyone gradually turning to concrete? Am I the only one who sees it? I don't feel it anymore - that feeling of destruction every time it happens, I just feel a bit of myself die every time.

None of this is real: nothing feels real anymore. I'm bitten.

JL

The secrets of cinema.

2007-04-10T10:40:00.000Z

Those of you in awe at atmosphere and the creation of complex emotional soundfield in filmatic work, would do well to watch this video:

Here

Survival

2007-04-07T13:09:00.000Z

Look at me and all my sudden postings.

My day thus far has involved waking up so hungover it was untrue and fiddling around on the the internet. I am buoyed by my ability to get home successfully from Camden at 2am and not remember a detail of how I did it. Quite impressive. I had been to a 'bad friday' party at Russell's.

Anyhow, sitting sur la balcon noch einmal, I have uploaded some photos from my phone.

You will find them here:

Extra photos

I'm going back to my hangover.

JL

Ants in your pants?

2007-04-06T17:56:00.000Z

A few weeks ago, I went for a drink with Simon in Angel. It's not really a part of London I visit very often - indeed, probably only a few times a year. It is a shame because it exists with fabulous bars, good humour and jollity of experience. On my way to meet Simon there, I was alas on the Northern line; in my carriage, a lady had a newspaper with the headline, 'Who am I?'.

For someone like me, a headline like that is a slide - with a gradient just off vertical -* right down to the depths of philosophy.

Walking up and out of Angel, I had a sudden vision of an ants' nest. All the people exiting the station to fulfil a function -* to do something.

It occurred to me, as it has done before, that even the people running up the escalator wailing in show to others are fulfilling a funtion. Those people exiting the tube believing they are different and totally unusual are still entirely predictable in humanity by their randomness. It is only one stage away from ants leaving the nest, in the way they do, to fulfil individual functions that benefit the whole. I've always believed in a 'counter-balance' society - the belief that such groups as the far-right wing of the Catholic church and the far wing of the evangelical church, or Anti-vivisectionists and pro-vivisectionists, all exist in counter-balance to provide general stability to society. Ants work like this if you believe what the natural media will tell you.

It disappoints me to believe that in the same way that I catergorize people I know, other people catergorize me, and know my reaction to everything... or at least can predict it because I have 'a certain function'.

I can't remember the last time that I was genuinely surprised in a good way. Shocking.

Maybe I'm in the wrong place, and I've grown comfortable to London, and need to move to excitement again. I notoriously get bored very easily... and I have been here for 4 1/2 years...

Or maybe there is just no such thing as personality, just a pre-determined existence in counter-balance to create stability...

Thought...

JL

Ps. Blogger.com, PLEASE will you allow en-rules in your character set? Some of us do like to TRY and punctuate with correct symbols.

The Wasp and the light

2007-04-06T16:51:00.000Z

I've been aware for sometime that things are changing; when I say 'things', I refer more directly to my life. This current tide change has been at work since the early part of this year.

Sitting on a tube train earlier, a tube train that later broke down and sent me along the tracks in de-trainment, I noticed something. A wasp was throwing itself at a fluorescent light again and again in the futile hope that it would escape into the world where it more properly belongs. This hot, synthetic tube repelled him, yet the wasp continued in its quest. (For all you left-wing feminists reading, I make no apologies that the wasp is a man, in the same way that I wouldn't make apologies for flawed liberalism.) The wasp couldn't escape because of his attraction to something bright and promising and yet fake and ultimately fatal. As an adjunct of mere anecdotal use, I had just been into a supermarket and purchased a pizza for tea, avoiding the slightly less-bright packaging and much-more-healthy looking vegetables nearby. I've always had the ability to empty my head of this sort of attraction, and sideline it. Pizza I know is bad for me, but is a fluorescent light; other objects I do well to put away and let them live on the important sidelines of my exsistence, rather than be destructive attractors like pizza.

On Good Friday, Christians learn of a scripture being fulfilled - the death of Jesus in a way fortold and predicted in detail. I sometimes wonder whether I have an ability of future prediction, or whether my skills of logic are just quite finely honed. Arrogant perhaps? But arrogance is really very rarely me these days. When I came home from playing the organ, I did several similar things. Two of them were identical except in one respect, and I predicted the result correctly both times. The actual details are irrelavent.

A tide change, Good Friday, wasps attracted to lights? Mad? Quite possibly. We are all attracted to things that are not good for us - whether a light, whether a pizza, or whether other abstract things; there is always something better, like a salad, that we don't notice, or just don't think. I'm not talking about 'living a little' and 'letting one's hair down'; those who know me know that the admonishment of vice, or something you enjoy is entirely alien to my being. Yes. It is the being, the soul, the care of self to which I refer.

It all started in about December 2005. I knew from the moment an abstract connection was made, that there would be a gradual decline that could all but destroy me. It nearly has once or twice, but I find myself in the situation at the moment of knowing that in the next short while, I will make a gesture of personal sacrifice - sacrificing some mind things I enjoy on my sidelines, that will combine to create a fluorescent light that could hurt me much. The past few months have been a time of resigning myself to it, and in fact I do believe actual synthesis of these organic, sideline elements has already occurred, and is currently my percieved 'dangerous synthesis' in deception already. The personal sacrifice I shall make will be to give the synthesis a 'justification in time' to exist. In doing so, I will give life to something amazing, as I have done before (but not to this level), by letting it take all my emotional energy. It will exist, and I will nod in surprise, and everything will be fine. It will take me a year to recover, potentially longer, but I shall fight because it will eventually enhance my life dramatically. I find it all exciting.

I worry sometimes about how easy I find it to predict these things - I do believe in synchronicity, and my two tests when I arrived home proved a fulfilment of this to my mind.

On the positive side, I'm sitting on my balcony watching squirrels jumping in the trees, wishing I was free like that too; perhaps I will be soon. I intend to sit here with another Gin, eat a pizza, listen to the birds singing, watch the sun go down, and go off to enjoy the last night of penitence before the kindling of the new fire, and the beginning of what promises to be quite an interesting but exciting space of time.

JL

Normal people.

2007-03-09T22:38:00.000Z

I wonder if this is what normal people do with their Friday evenings? Have I finally discovered what people do? That is, those people who have bank accounts and creative needs that are not reliant upon going to play the piano or organ.

Oddly enough, on the way to a rehearsal recently, I sat on the train watching people, as I often do. All different, yet all doing the same. All wanting to be home on a Friday evening. Some were chavvy; some were in a couple; some were gay; most were straight; some looked smelly; some looked ugly; some were totally beautiful; some had eyes that I wanted to collect and watch and look into in my own time; one man was ordering a chinese takeaway and wanted to be known as 'JP' because he had a 'difficult Finnish name'. All of them were mostly quiet. But the train was not quiet. Their thoughts were shooting and ricocheting around the carriage. I couldn't hear, but at the same time I could hear - it was claustrophobic. Isn't it wierd how much mental energy working in dissonance is almost louder than the noise of awful pubs.

I'm quiet glad of my friday evening. My flat is empty apart from me and my bottle of red wine, and my thoughts are not inhibited by noise of other mentality - I feel relaxed.

Perhaps I should have or share 'normal' friday evenings more often?

JL

Wine wine-not...

2007-03-07T20:51:00.000Z

I think my very first post was about being a wino who says 'why not'. In just over a week's time, Peter, James and I are going to have a reunion of our 'finishing finals' evening. In it's original form, it involved Margaux '94, fine cheese, and candles down by the river in Cambridge. We're just doing it now because we can't wait to do it again, and the 10 year anniversary is too far ahead. I'm just ordering the wine from The Wine Society. Alas Margaux from then is getting on for £100. Too much for a lowly music publisher. But there is a warming thought at ordering really good wine to drink with candles and cheese (and with excellent company); I think I shall go for a Pavillon Rouge (Margaux second growth).

Did anyone say that I could be an alcoholic?

So, what has Jon been doing

2007-03-06T22:17:00.000Z

I have been too busy to think recently. There have been moments of sheer joy in my life, moments of high shock, moments of emotion I never want to feel again, moments of boredom, many moments of drunkeness, and moments that I will treasure for the rest of my life. I've even done some Kareoke.

This past three weeks or so has reminded me exactly how important to me my friends are, and how much I have capacity to love and be loved. It has also reminded me that life moves on, and that I am rapidly coming to a changepoint in my life. Over the next few months I predict that the swirling vortex of my mind will fix upon several next stages. The first I know about, and that is that I must have a holiday soon. A holiday somewhere relaxing and fun with someone(people) relaxing and fun. I still have 24 days to use up this year, and I hate not being able to spend those actually with people. The next will be career. The third will be accommodation. Maybe the fourth will be love? 2007 is a year in which I will sort many things, and open my life to the excitement and adventure of new things. Travel. I must travel.

So.. anyway..

This blog entry is purely to post some photos:

My silly sign gallery

Alex and Rich's wedding in Windermere

ENJOY!

JL

Reordering of life

2007-02-24T22:27:00.000Z

O Word, worthy of the Most High,
our sole hope, eternal day of earth and the heavens,
we break the silence of the peaceful night.
Divine saviour, cast Thine eyes upon us!

Shed the light of Thy mighty grace upon us.
Let all Hell flee at the sound of Thy voice.
Dispel the slumber of a languishing soul
that leads it to the forgetting of Thy laws!

O Christ, be favorable unto this faithful people
now gathered to bless Thee.
Recieve these hymns it offers unto Thine immortal glory
and may it return fulfilled by Thy gifts.

2007-02-22T00:26:00.000Z

I've just returned from the Ash Wednesday service at my church. Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent - forty days and forty nights of wilderness. The Rector pointed out that whilst giving up certain pleasures in life for Lent was undoubtedly very good for you (and even more so if you give the money saved to charity), the inevitable goal of the period of self-awareness and thought is to become the person you want to be by the end of it.

I've found myself becoming rather obsessed with Jung's ideas on synchronicity recently, and have probably begun reading into life's coincidences just slightly too much. Today, however, I have had a curious mood swing to a sort of half-mood - a mood in half being - the remainder of one I thought I'd put to bed a long time ago. It is curious because on the day that, in the Christian calendar, self-awareness and meditation begin for 6 weeks, blasted apart has been the 'papered-over' inner workings of my emotions. Synchronicity it may be, but it has also made for a very organic day - possibly the most organic in a couple of months; everything has grown out of a disappointing realisation and mood swing early on.

I became very good a few years ago at pushing unwanted things in life around - hiding sadness with joy - being able to put problems into a corner using low brain resource until they sort themselves. The challenge to become 'what I want to be' in 6 weeks through a process of introspective collection is something I fathom almost impossible. I've learnt that to be my true self, I need to open up all the hidden problems, the hidden emotions, the hidden thought, and purge them by opening them at the people they are associated with. Occasionally I try to open thoughts, but I think there are only few people who can fully cope with me being honest - most people will just ignore the openess if I start trying to be honest - possibly because they have similarly moved things to the corner of their 'life playing board'.

So if I'm to be my true open, honest, and emotionally honest self, then I must expect to harm what makes up my life. So is my true self the person who I want to be at the end of Lent? Is there a difference?

Who knows? I think the concept of self-awareness is a good one - a time to consider what has been papered over and what could come blasting out at any given time. It is also a time to purge the issues and problems and emotions that have been soaked up like a sponge. Like a game of snap, by matching up the mental process of a problem thought through - the card of logic with the card of problem or emotion or feeling, Lent can be a cathartic time.

I'm looking forward to this time. It has started.

Time to sleep

JL

New York, New York

2007-02-17T15:15:00.000Z

Oh Margerita,

We miss you....

JL

Beauty against work

2007-02-14T22:47:00.000Z

The other day, I was in the Production Office talking to some producers, and the sun was setting... The London sun is the most beautiful sunset in this part of the world... the natural beauty of life is the most wonderful tonic to rubbish that happens at other times:

Super - [soo-per] - very good; first-rate; excellent

2007-02-14T20:58:00.000Z

With words like 'super' and 'spendid' and 'excellent', one could easily catergorize me as a rural clergyman of a certain age. During my college days, it was never far away from my mind since my various friends would regularly plant the seed of Anglican priesthood in my brain. I remain, however, a normal lay-person (you have to be careful with hyphens there) (and I'm not normal, just in case you wondered), but I also happen to use words like 'super' and 'splendid' and 'excellent'.

Sitting here with a not totally unpleasant glass of Australian Shiraz-Merlot, refusing to lament the sorry lack of valentines cards and listening to Mahler 2, it occurred to me that the word 'super' is an empty promise.

Perhaps I should enlighten you. Today I went to a supermarket. A market that is super? An excellent market; a first-rate market; a very-good market? No. It was the most efficient waste of my time and most inefficient waste of space that I have ever seen. How could we have got supermarkets so wrong? A supermarket to me means the bullet train of markets, a high luxury, a place of ease and relaxation. It does not mean nipping in for a stir-fry and a bottle of wine (taking 4 minutes to find), and waiting 15 minutes IN THE BASKET QUEUE!!! What rubbish.

Were the intelligent people viewing a film of Michaelangelo's shopping habits the day someone said, 'I know, in this hi-tech age, supermarkets are still working well - we won't change a thing'. What other places with shelves do I know. How about the British Library? Oh yes... look at the British Library; sitting at my desk, I can search for what I want, add it to a list, go into the library and pick my pile up before going to work at the books. I know what is in each book I order - or roughly; if the book is no good, I won't order it again.

Why then can't supermarkets work on the same principle? Why can't Jon log onto Sainsbury's website search through the lists and go to pick them up later in the day. Why do we need to SEE what we are buying? Why do supermarkets have twice as many staff as they need (warehouse and shopfloor) ? Yes I know that I can have it delivered, but what is the point in missing out the most obvious stage in the process - going to pick up your order? You could even order on the tube on the way home and go to pick your order up. If food wasn't so ridiculously packaged, it may even be cheaper.

Oh I forget - supermarkets like us to buy what we don't need don't they??

RANT RANT RANT.

You may call me Anne Widdecombe - but only for a day.

Just remember next time you go into a supermarket, that there is nothing super about queueing up for 15 minutes to pay money. It is all the WRONG way around.

JL

Mandate society II

2007-02-13T23:50:00.000Z

I've been working all evening. Yup as in 9-5 job work. It is now midnight, and it is cold outside. I'm inside, on my second Gin and Tonic and listening to Brahms Intermezzi - all cozy, warming and emotional. I saw James on Sunday for dinner, and he reminded me that I have a blog, and should fill it in more often. I am doing his bidding.

Following on from my previous thoughts on a mandate society, I had more thoughts.

Humans are strange. Humans coupled with their 'beings' are even stranger. Give someone conciousness and the ability to think, and they become lazy and prefer to follow-on like the proverbial sheep. Humans wouldn't be humans without the need to learn from everyone else - life wouldn't work, let alone move the way it does. We do have extraordinary abilities to imitate and nest someone else's egg in the hope it hatches into our own canon of influence. Even the most seemingly 'individual' of us returns with mandate from others in this way. Yes I know - we wouldn't ever have a 'being' if we weren't able to learn from those we respect. But sometimes mandate to do something is accepted too much 'as the way it is'. This process is probably a majority sub-conscious - like lust - part concious, but the actual mechanics being totally sub-concious.

Isn't it wierd, however, that we are all afraid of giving mandate back. 'Rubbish', I hear you say. I think it's true: Jon here likes to play the organ or piano well for people in the hope it might influence them, and for them to respect me lots because of it - there is no fear there. But is that really me? Is that really what I could be showing people - allowing them to decipher? No it's not - it is simply my training in something beautiful that I'm sharing with others; true, my technical flaws and the idiosyncracies of my playing might be endearing, but the music is only seasoned with the inner soul that makes ME.

I wonder, whether our fear of revealing ourselves to others (and society expectation has no small part to play here), stunts the growth of society and is a flaw responsible for years of war and rubbish. By keeping our human soul, what we really think and feel, inside us like a locked diary, we harness our own personal development, we lacerate any attempts to be open, and we reduce the palette of subconcious mandate available to society and thus to ourselves in response. The wealth of experience people could take away from us currently ranks in the 'poor' catergory. Of course we can be worthy, and do good things, and that we must continue, but the actual effect of our true selves is negligible when it is hidden.

We fight the love of food because it will make us fat, we fight the want to love someone because it is not what we 'expect' in a partner, we fight the need to express real views in case there is something to be gained from agreeing with whoever we talk to, we set up rules for friendships that filter things into different boxes.... Do we as humans end up reacting against the very person we are and pretend to be the very person we're not - all because we have carried away too many false mandates - too many 'they've considered what they're doing so I shall do it too' mandates from others.

Does this make the whole of life false? Does it make friendships false and ultimately unsatisfying?

No. We can fight it, and the rare glimpses of reality and soul in others are recognised by us as a concious mandate. The glimpse of beauty and love in someone else is a things to behold, and my life is regularly richer because of it.

JL

From Russia with Love

2007-02-10T12:00:00.000Z

Click the link for the photos!

JL

The Rel who came in from the warm.

2007-02-02T00:28:00.000Z

Today Rel came home. Like football coming home, but with a much more refined tune - probably a cross between Miles Davis and Cesar Franck.

Photos here

Rel is home

JL

Mandate to the masses

2007-01-09T23:15:00.000Z

I started cycling to work again yesterday. Yes - get your laughs out of the way - a slightly post-Christmas-rounded musician wobbling on a bike heading for Fitzrovia. Ha ha! It as taught me various things:

1. Taxis
I hate London taxis even more than I do as a pedestrian - not only do I know that they are expensive, speed up towards traffic lights, try to play skittles with unsuspecting walkway users, and pump pedestrians' lungs full of poisonous fumes, BUT they also persist in having a unique interpretation of the Highway Code that suggests cutting up cyclists and zooming past them with a centimetre gap. AND to the man (or woman) who invented their high acceleration (which sounds like a V1 rocket coming in to land), I would like to raise a punch.

2. Yummy Mummies
Yes the ladies who spend their days driving their 'Chelsea tractors' to the shops to bring in a harvest of rocket and balsamic vinegar for tea (along with the odd fur coat or two). Life owes these ladies everything. It particularly allows them to jump traffic lights, park on double yellows while they nip into Costa in West Hampstead for a little pick me up whilst they source their feta cheese (and forcing the poor cyclists out of the bus lane and into the main lanes where they meet more Y.Ms), and slow down whilst they phone their poodles to tell them to put on the kettle.

3. Mercedes Drivers
Yes. When I was young it was Volvo drivers. But then I did grow up in the rural countryside. In London, Mercedes drivers seem to have the right to sit in the Cycle Boxes and junctions. Well clearly, they have money so can do anything!

Yes. Rant rant rant! But it is not over yet. On the way home yesterday, I popped into Sainsbury's supermarket where I purchased some coffee beens and one or two bits of Italian food to cook for dinner. People are so rude in supermarkets. Firstly, the ladies (and I'm afraid it is always ladies in my experience) who walk through you pretending they haven't seen you, or who just expect you to stop and let them past; obviously I do - I'm a gentleman, but no doubt if the shoes were on the other foot, I'd be called all sorts of chauvinist-type names. Then there are the people who, when you are looking at a shelf, come and stand in front of you without even excusing themselves. RANT RANT RANT.

But yes, why am I ranting? It occured to me that these people fall into the flaw in society that we all fall into - in fact I've already fallen into it several times writing this. It is the 'mandate' philosophy of life.

I fall into the situation all the time; I subconciously think that if a friend does something, it is alright for me to do too even if afterwards it offends the way I wish to live my life. In other words I assume by example that I have been handed a mandate. Taxi drivers have their own Highway Code handed on by implied mandate to one another, Yummy Mummies buy rocket and park their cars anywhere because their mandate is passed on by other balsamic vinegar harvesters, and it is alright for me not to reply to e-mails that I know replies are expected from simply because other people do it to me. It is abhorrent that I do it; it is abhorrent when other people do it to me.

Amongst my New Year's resolutions you will find my desire to cycle more and shape up a bit, to drink less in order to preserve my income a bit (and thus write more blog entries), and to stop myself being led by other people - to ignore implied mandate - 'oh he/she does it so it is fine for me'.

Mandate to the masses. I'm off to drink some balsalmic vinegar.

JL

Long time no see?

2007-01-08T21:50:00.000Z

Yes. I've had a month off writing on my blog. You may have noticed?

I've discovered that one of the problems about my life is that I do far too much; this busyness naturally affects all of my administration - and this includes my blog...

Apologies all!

Please find below a couple of photo albums of things I have been up to recently. Hopefully I will get to write something tomorrow!

New Year's Eve

Work Party

JL

Dear Bunty, Imagine my surprise

2006-11-27T23:48:00.000Z

The General Manager
Customer Service Centre
London Underground
55 Broadway
London SW1H 0BD

Dear Sir or Madam,

Monday 27th November

My intention in writing this letter is neither to angle for compensation nor to achieve refund, it is simply to register my disbelief with you.

For many months now I have been travelling to work using the same train combination – namely the Jubilee Line from Kilburn to Finchley Road and then the Metropolitan Line from Finchley Road to Great Portland Street. You are right, there is nothing to disbelieve about this – in fact I receive an excellent service between Tuesday and Friday, and even at the weekends. I can leave my house at 9a.m. and be at my office front door at 9.25 a.m.

When I moved to Kilburn I came from several years of Victoria Line misery: early and unadvertised terminating trains at Seven Sisters, having to wait up to twenty-five minutes for trains to Walthamstow late at night, impossible heat every day, spurious ‘regulating the service’ announcements, and signal failures with impeccable regularity. It was a joy to move to Kilburn onto a line that was fresh and without the Victoria Line’s foibles. I have noticed, however, now the buzz has worn off, a rather unusual phenomenon.

Every Monday morning, my day begins with a 9.30 meeting at my office. It may (or may not) surprise you that I have not managed to be at this meeting for about 2 months. With regularity, my Monday morning trip to fulfil my contracted obligations takes ten minutes longer than it should. As I say, having lived in Walthamstow for so long, I became numbed to such journey delays. It was only thinking about it this morning that I realised the ridiculousness of the situation – I left ten minutes earlier this morning, only to arrive 50 minutes after I set off. I gather that this was because ‘someone was reversing a train into the platform at Baker Street and all the trains are queuing’. Quite apart from the fact that I thought trains were ambimotive and this therefore should not be quite so unusual, I am distressed that my journey to work every Monday, and usually only Monday, is delayed by such an incredulous amount of time. Is there a reversing train at Baker Street timetabled into events at about 9.35 a.m. ?

You may by now have realised that my gripe with London Underground is that every day my journey runs fantastically, apart from Monday when it is ALWAYS delayed. I cannot for one moment begin to imagine what logical reason there is for this. Perhaps the person controlling the sub-suface lines at Baker Street on Monday mornings is the same person? Perhaps his/her unique way of controlling involves creating delays. Should there have been engineering works over this particular weekend, I might have been able to understand; to my knowledge there were no engineering works that would cause ‘trains to be in the wrong place’. Similarly, there were no delays on the Circle Line (and subsidiaries) according to your posters at Great Portland Street.

I’m not sure you are able to answer this expression of disbelief. We all have problems getting out of bed on a Monday, but this should not really affect a giant trainset – how does Monday differ from any other day? Tuesday for example? I can tell you that my journey tomorrow will be perfectly on time. I’m almost certain that the same would not be the case in a city such as Berlin. It is not infrastructure, it is simply unbelievable.

Thank you for reading this rant, if indeed you have got this far. I shall leave twenty minutes earlier – I will let you know with an apology if I manage to make my 9.30 a.m. meeting.

Yours in disbelief

Jonathan Lee

See the Swans' Mumbles

2006-11-21T23:52:00.000Z

And finally after waiting a while and procrastinating and being me, I have got the photos of Kath and Rowan's wedding up on my Pickle space (with help from the excellent customer service at pickle.com I should add).

So here they are....

enjoy....

PHOTO TIME

JL

No, I'm quite happy with where I am thank you

2006-11-17T23:04:00.000Z

I started writing this post sitting in a sunroom in Skye where I was on holiday with Henry, Gary and Ben (I wasn't necessarily on holiday in the sunroom, I just happened to be there at the time I was writing). It's occurred to me several times that I had a foetal muse on a bit of paper that was stuffed in the back of my diary, but it was spending an evening talking with Ben that reminded me to do something about it!

In July, I had some dental work done. It cost me £200 to have reconstruction inside my mouth. What was all the money about? I had some teeth shortened and I had a new tooth put in to cover a wonky tooth. The procedure was very impressive - it only took about 30 minutes, and I came out with a new smile that made me feel better. However, for days, even weeks afterwards, I convinced myself that I had made the wrong decision --* I could feel this new tooth in my mouth like a foreign brick. Gradually it got better, and eventually I couldn't notice the difference - my mouth feels like it has always been the way it is. Why is that? Is it because the neuro-senses are stubborn? Why does it take the nerves so long to adapt? They are not proud... they must just be stubborn.

Stubborn is:
1. unreasonably obstinate; obstinately unmoving: a stubborn child.
2. fixed or set in purpose or opinion; resolute: a stubborn opponent of foreign aid.
3. obstinately maintained, as a course of action: a stubborn resistance.
4. difficult to manage or suppress: a stubborn horse; a stubborn pain.
5. hard, tough, or stiff, as stone or wood; difficult to shape or work.

In August I spent a week in Scotland, on the Isle of Skye, with Hengar and Ben. It is the most beautiful place I have been to in recent memory. Why was it (and presumably still is) such a beautiful place? And why does it take so long to get used to it? Is it like new teeth? Is my mind as stubborn as my neurosystem? It takes so long to get used to because it is something new and free that lets the mind out to walk - that can inhibit the stubborness. Fixed or set in purpose.

All people are stubborn in the way they live their lives; we stubbornly hold onto thoughts, concepts, beliefs, opinions and our pride. Slowly realisation comes that things have changed in the mind, that the balance has tipped, and we silently and secretly (and probably sub-conciously at some levels) realign ourselves with new stubborn floors (and flaws) to stand on. We are as a being too proud to allow flexible thought and to be aware that others can be right or that there is no need to always have a strong opinion. Just look at politics and politics in your workplace, and see how long it can take to change standpoints. No, I'm not going to head for a discussion about the elusive myth of free thought.

It was interesting recently that a friend pointed out, when I told him some of the things I've done in the past year, that it was part of growing up and getting older. Patronising perhaps, but true. We had been talking about friendships and life things, and how the obstinate boundaries I had placed in my mind when I was younger, whilst other people had discovered flexibility, were now breaking down for me too. Things some people aligned to in their late teens and twenties, I was finding myself aligning to in my late 20s. But similarly flexibilities I discovered in my early 20s and thought I had learnt by, I find myself stubbornly repeating. Stubborn I tell you.

Of course - why are we stubborn? We need things to hold on to. That feeling you have when things are going wrong, of falling down a cliff grabbing at the sides trying to get a hold, is significant. By showing strength in our expressions to others, we hold on and we feel moored - and we refuse to move to other mental mooring pegs - we don't realise it is possible to move one rope at a time to another peg without flying off in the wind. It is a shame that people are so proud. If you notice it in yourself, you feel like a wally, if you notice it in others, you just accept it.

Interesting.

JL

* ps blogger.com -- why can I not do an en-rule on your software?

Would anyone...

2006-11-17T00:02:00.000Z

actually notice if I disappeared? Apart from my parents, apart from G, apart from J, and apart from work?

I wonder.

It is worth testing it out.

Taken for granted? Possibly always. Needing escape from a normality appreciation. Yes.

Again, Jehova quam multi sunt hostes mei.

JL

Just random

2006-11-14T22:08:00.000Z

I found this photo whilst looking around in my alcohol-pickled brain for something to say. It was taken by Benjee in Skye. It sort of typifies my museful pose I think; what musing is all about. I hunger for views and peace like this for my thinking!!

When I got home from work today, I was delighted to have a letter from wonderful Rel! There is something wonderful about handwritten letters - I love receiving them. Alas, far too few people write these days. Anyhow I feel like I know everything going on in sunny Kenya - and I have the best of respect for what Rel is doing. The best thing about a letter is that you feel like you have been there - there is so much personality in a letter!

Well. This random post would not be complete without a rant!

1) Train screens:

a) Tube 'time-to-wait' screens-

Why is it that the screens on tube platforms showing you how long you need to wait before the next train, are always obscured by something else:

Why is it also that, particularly on the Circle line, the screens often don't show how many minutes until the next train, and then when people cross the yellow line to see down the tunnel, the attendants get all cross - SORT IT OUT LONDON UNDERGROUND!

b) At Euston station, why is it that on the screens telling you where each train is going , there is a slide shoved in warning you about common sense things like slippy platforms. This I wouldn't mind so much if it didn't spend twice as long on the screen as the information you actually want. Many a time at Euston, with 1 minute to go before the train I think I want to catch, have I had to be reminded about slippy platforms and smoking policies, when all I want to know is whether the train is going to my stop. SORT IT OUT SILVERLINK!

2)Those bloody free newspapers:

Dear Puggers (paper muggers), if I decide that I want one of your trashy, free. London evening papers, and that I want to read bad grammar and bad journalism and turn my hands black, I will not walk towards you quickly shaking my head. The next person who tries to stab my midriff with this allusion to journalism, might be subject to coarse language. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

3) Season ticket renewers:

Why oh why oh why do you renew a season ticket at peak rush hour when the queue behind you will clearly build up very quickly. What selfish, unrepentant urge allows you to hold up a ticket clerk for 5 minutes whilst you ask about all your options, and then to turn-around and look totally unphased by all the commuters choking blood and with contorted faces?? Why?

AND TO THE RAILWAY COMPANIES - Why on earth can't you sort it out and have your so-called 'quick' ticket machines dispense boundary extensions? What possible reason is there that you won't? SORT IT OUT

Phew! I feel better now!

Some photos to end:

Benjee on the train doing his best to be lawless...

I couldn't believe, having sat down in the BL to do some quiet editing, that I'd sat at desk 146. That number is going to return all my life - I can see that now!

What is a 'Private Rod', and why does Embankment station have a room for it?

JL

La di dee, one two three

2006-11-04T11:15:00.000Z

Goodness. What a marathon two weeks. Maurice Durufle was an amazing man, but he certainly knew how to tie up someone's life for a while. I have finally learnt and performed the accompaniment to his Requiem; as I have said before, quite possibly one of my favourite pieces of music. I performed it on Thursday evening with the Chiltern Chamber Choir in Berkhamsted, in my church which was full of incense and candlelight, and for the first time in my tenure, an All Souls Catafalque The symbolism was excellent, and as for the cope worn by the priest.... I can't understand peoples' fear and hatred of the beautiful symbolic rites of the church.

Anyhow. That eulogy was to explain my silence again: I have been working almost non-stop on the Durufle, which has had it's own effect on my still ailing health - I'm not well again, but my mind is fertile from the music and the enjoyment of the social life I've managed to continue with my friends. There is much musing to return when I get a chance to construct it. In the meantime, a few random 'imagebites' from my phone. A snapshot of muse over the past 2 weeks.

I spotted the name of the manufacturers of my work lifts....

Henry muses on his red wine in Lee's Bag.

Mary, Claire and Rupert's foot were amongst the people who came to support the Durufle. Here they are repenting of silverlink..

I thought this was a perfect description....

Gavin drunk in charge of a bicycle on the way to the Edge from Lee's Bag (is there something metaphorical there?)

Seize one Swan sea

2006-10-23T23:37:00.000Z

Well. I had dinner with James yesterday whilst I was in Cambridge celebrating being part of an Organ Scholar canon. He reminded me, having softened me with a fabulous meal, that my last blog entry and the consequent silence, implied I had died of malaria.

Unfortunately for you, I'm not even a ghost writer; I'm sitting here with a glass of whisky and ginger wine (facist sore throat), quite happily typing in a non-poltergeisty-destructive way. I bet you are pleased about that!

Anyhow. I wanted to just add a few photos from my little excursion, last weekend but one, to Swansea for Kath's wedding. The actual ACTUAL photos I took will occur later, but right now, I just have tasters of the things that amused me!

Outside Swansea train station one finds the slogan, 'Ambition is Critical'. I found this quite ironic...

Thankfully for us, this cafe was not open when we passed. I hate to think what they were selling...

Right next to the Cafe was this road. Odd. I'm sure there's parity somewhere...

JL

Malaria?

2006-10-11T08:54:00.000Z

Having spent the majority of the last month feeling quite ill, and having got the shivers yesterday, I finally went for tests this morning to see whether I've been bitten by a parasitic mosquito. Hopefully not. We wait to find out. I hate being ill and even worse being at home when there is so much to do elsewhere, and my new toy hasn't arrived yet, so I can't even spend time enjoying myself at home.

JL

Having a toy camera

2006-10-09T21:06:00.000Z

Most of the time I would be happy not to have a camera on my phone: it is amongst the other 'essential' gadgets that also slow my phones to the speed of a snail just one year after it starts being used. Rubbish.

BUT, just occasionally, I see something just truly stunning that I need a picture of. The church of which I'm organist is 12th Century, it's large, beautiful, historic, and just a wonderful building to work in. With an autumn night sky and an almost full moon, it is even more special. It is the old man of the town, and I may have been imagining it, but he seemed to be really enjoying the basking in that moonlight; for a moment I felt that joy too.

Having a toy camera on my phone really helped me to capture it:

Seated one day on the sofa, I was weary and ill at ease...

2006-10-05T14:47:00.000Z

and my fingers wandered idly, over the plastic keys...

Well not quite, but I am ill and at home, and so I though I would do some gallery work.

Here are photos I've been meaning to put up for ages:

When going for a drink with Henry and Gary in Retro, do remember to take your dictionary...

I think a prize for the person who manages to finish this slogan without using the word organic. It made me laugh when I took it, but can't think why!

If ever a road was built for me to live on, here it is.

Proof of the Kenya

2006-10-05T10:17:00.000Z

Finally I have managed to reduce 500 photos to 100 in order to upload them to a site. I may decide to post more in the coming months, but there will probably be more excitement by then :)

Here they are

Enjoy!

JL

Shock

2006-09-29T12:55:00.000Z

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....

2006-09-28T20:35:00.000Z

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

2006-09-27T20:24:00.000Z

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

2006-09-26T21:26:00.000Z

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

2006-09-23T09:40:00.000Z

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

2006-09-11T10:00:00.001Z

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

2006-09-10T21:54:00.000Z

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

2006-09-09T19:36:00.000Z

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

2006-09-06T13:04:00.000Z

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

2006-09-03T23:03:00.000Z

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

2006-09-03T12:49:00.000Z

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

2006-09-03T12:03:00.000Z

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

2006-09-03T10:24:00.000Z

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

God on the Tube

2006-08-09T23:19:00.000Z

It is funny how I cannot think any more. The creative ideas do not flow so easily. I'm rarely annoyed and frustrated with as many people as when I started this blog/ gallery, so it is possible that there is a correlation.

The strands in life continue to tie together. This evening, I spent the most wonderful time with Claire and Rupert in Whitechapel. Superb food, wine, enjoying intellectual equality. Most importantly, I spoke to my week-gone soulmate. Rachel is now in Kenya, and I realised today how terribly I miss her. Of course, I shall see her in 4 weeks, but it served to remind me how perfectly the distractions in my life have tallied with her going.

On that note, sitting on the tube from Whitechapel to Baker Street, I sat watching a train full of the usual 11pm microcosm. There were friends after a night out chatting excitedly, there were children asleep in their mothers' arms after having been tired out, there were East End Wideboys wearing shirts unbuttoned to their midriff and sharing crude stories over a tinnie, there were couples who were in the midst of foreplay, and there were couples who were intellectually unmatched - one clearly trying to work out whether there was anything to do to improve the situation. In the midst of it all I spotted a man. In that man I spotted God. The man was a mix between David Tennant and Robert Redford - pinstripe but craggy and worn - that is not the important part. He was standing, serenely watching people in the carriage - each person in turn - enjoying all they were doing and saying; occasionally he smiled, looked up, smiled again, and looked somewhere else. A creator enjoying his creation - thinking of amusing changes, just thriving on the beauty of what other people are enjoying.

It struck me, that for all the parts of others I hate and there are many things that I would class as despicable characteristics, there is so much beauty in individuality of reaction and being. That man, who was God, just for a moment showed it all. His enjoyment of everthing going on reminded me that I don't need to be creative all the time - creativity has to be enjoyed to understand it more. I will be upset with people soon enough and will write well thought out essays on humanity as a result. At this moment, I realise that my creativity is individual, but it is nothing without the experience of others - just like Mr God on the train noticed at the same time!

Now. Don't get me started on the Tube rant.....

Isn't it funny how...

2006-08-08T22:42:00.000Z

Bees like honey?

I like life at the moment. In a more secluded moment of creative genius I spotted some similarities between life and the game 'Connect Four'. Isn't it odd how occasionally you feel that bits of life begin to fall into place? It is just like Connect Four when your opponent seems to be failing his go desperately - grasping at threads to stop you getting a line. Of course, it is more complicated than that: I remember, as we all do, as a child discovering that if you held a mirror to a mirror, that the mirrors would appear to reflect themselves into infinity - it is the same with the games of Connect Four - infinite.

Of course, it is the past while where the game seems to have destroyed my opponents (one might say personal gremlins, since opponents in people are merely challenges), but there are lots more existing; my dimension at the moment is in a winning phase. I feel I have moved to an area of London that is great, to a beautiful, light and spacious flat, and I feel it happened a bit by accident. I have met some fascinating new people - some particularly. I have been out for a drink today with a very good friend, who for various reasons things did not work out with for a year or so, but now I remember how addictive his friendship is. AND I have just discovered the evenings in West Hampstead.

Isn't it funny how Bees like Honey? (TM A.A Milne!!)
Isn't it funny how Children like Chocolate?
Isn't it funny how Adults like Alcohol.

Tonight I went for a drink with LJ in West Hampstead. We met up spontaneously at about 9 p.m. and went to a bar just opposite the Opera Studio. It reminded me, down to the tables and clientele, of a down-to-earth bar in a little Czecholslovakian town - there was little attitude and just a good relaxed evening being had by all. Following this, the image continued - all the way up West End Road, little lanterns flickered in civilised bars like candles in caves of experience. I was informed of the good places to go for breakfast, the good places to go for dinner, and all of them looked fabulous and civilised for a drink. AND all of them looked 100% less pretentious than the rest of London bars - willing me in - vive la culture cafe. All of my new found bars are closer to home than the best bar in Walthamstow which, although very good, is not where I live now!

I'm looking forward to the next month. And I've suddenly realised how many people I know who live in this area.

Bring it on!

JL

Chapter 146

2006-07-31T23:39:00.000Z

A month without post. No apologies, just a myriad of feeling and thought.

I left Walthamstow today for the very last time of living there. Walking down Church Hill towards Asda and the station, the wind was blowing gustily. A wind of change, a cliche, but yes a wind of change.

My purpose in Walthamstow was to go and tidy my old house further, but in the end, Gavin had done most of the work the previous evening and into the morning. The house looked dull and empty and lifeless and souless - set in its own rigor mortis, not betraying any of the fun and joy, or anger and frustration, or love and passion that its volume has hosted and leant soul to. When we first saw the house in 2002, it lulled us in; the walls promised cubic metres of liveliness, a house full of people and friendship. And that is what it has been. Although we all leave frayed around the edges, and with better nature distorted in places, the core of the time remains, and there are no regrets in moving - it was right to do and will manifest itself in new life and chapters in new places. The house? 146? The famous 146 parties? The meals? The people? That has died. Our house has died. It will regenerate itself for someone else just as it has done many times before - someone else will enjoy that feeling of promise, but that is what houses do.

Sitting here in my new flat in NW London, I am crammed in with my belongings strewn messily about like a messier person than me would strew. There is promise here too, but in a different way. This is an adult flat with big bay windows, a proper dining table, high ceilings and the feeling of being grown up. From my bed here now, I hear the trees outside in the garden talking to one another - blowing around the change and showing the beginnings of new life. Once I get a key to the garden, I will have to go and explore. Oh yes! A game! An adventure! I still have childish needs, and they link with the need to find laughter and happy people with surprises and mental acrobatics.

So bring on the wine, the port, the candles, the laughter, and the Miles Davis, and enter Chapter 147........

Dear Sir, Imagine my surprise

2006-06-20T13:14:00.000Z

First Scotrail Customer Relations
PO Box 7030
Fort William
PH33 6WX

19th June 2006

Dear Sir/Madam,

Caledonian Sleeper Bargain Berths – Friday 25th August – London to Fort William.

It is not without a certain amount of disappointment and annoyance that I find myself writing this letter to you. First Scotrail has, due to misinformation, disorganization and bad customer practice, put the holiday plans of my friends and I into chaos.

Earlier this year, it was decided that we would take a holiday in Skye during August, and we therefore booked a cottage. I persuaded my friends that it would be a fabulous idea to take the Caledonian sleeper based on my very enjoyable previous experience. It was decided that this would be a good transport decision.

Since the booking of the holiday cottage in March, I have phoned regularly to discover when tickets for Friday 25th August will be available for booking – anxious not to miss the availability. During these conversations, I discovered that Bargain Berths would be controlled separately and that it was possible that the availability would not be released at the same time as APEX and standard tickets.

Again, anxious not to miss the opening of availability, I checked the website every day to see when tickets would be released. On the day that normal tickets were released up to 25th August (about 2 weeks ago), I phoned up your telesales team. They said that the cheapest tickets available were APEX singles at £70. It appeared that I could not book return tickets until the following week when the availability was to be extended – I would run the risk of not being able to get an outgoing ticket by waiting. Naturally I asked the agent about the Bargain Berths. He said that as he only dealt with normal tickets, I would need to contact Bargain Berths directly and he gave me a number. Directly, I phoned this number, asked the following questions, and received the following answers:

Q – Can you tell me when the Bargain Berths will be available for Friday 25th August between London and Fort William?
A – No. It depends on when they are released by the company – but probably in the next three to four weeks when the next quarter is released.

Q – Can you tell me whether there will be Bargain Berths on the Caledonian Sleeper on Friday 25th August?
A – Yes there will be – there is a quota of Bargain Berths on all services

Q – Are you able to tell me whether there is a specific quota or whether bargain berths are just using up tickets that haven’t been sold another way? I don’t want to wait for Bargain Berths to be released to discover that they don’t exist and the other tickets have sold out.
A – No there will certainly be bargain berths and there is a quota put aside.

Following this conversation, I decided not to risk waiting for the return journey to be released, and booked a return flight for myself and my friends from Inverness. However, still very keen to use the Caledonian Sleeper, and in good faith to your employees, I have continued to wait for the Bargain Berths to be released. Even the richest person would see an opportunity for an economy extending from the difference in ticket prices; it would not be good enough to say that I should have booked the £70 tickets at the time considering the information that I was given.

Today when checking your website, I noticed that Bargain Berths had not yet been released, and so decided to phone once more to check my previous information. It took me half an hour and 6 different phone numbers to finally get through to someone who seemed to know something about the Bargain Berths (including 15 minutes trying to track down someone called Maria on a ‘direct’ number which went through to the automated service). It seems the information I had acted upon in good faith was wrong. First Scotrail will not confirm in advance whether or not there will be any Bargain Berths on the service concerned as that puts me at an ‘advantage’.

I feel humiliated for having falsely led three other people into thinking that the Caledonian Sleeper is a very good service, and that we would be able to get Bargain Berths (on a first come and first served basis). Naturally, I’m also upset and annoyed as well as finding myself at a loss on what to do next. Apparently there will be an extension to the Bargain Berth availability in the next few days: of course it is possible that there will be some available, but given lack of information due to company rules, and my now mistrust of your agents, I cannot see my holiday working this way. My other option is to book four £129 tickets normally (the APEX fares having sold out). Firstly I cannot afford £129, and secondly I feel, given that I have been misled by First Scotrail, that I have been placed at a severe disadvantage and incurred a penalty of increasing ticket prices. Should I wait to see whether there will be Bargain Berths, it is certain that the £129 tickets will be sold out. My particular reasoning for phoning to check the availability of Bargain Berths on a Bank Holiday weekend was because I thought it would be a time when the company may not offer them.

I feel that the very least First Scotrail can do is to offer me £129 tickets at the APEX fare since it was your misinformation that persuaded me to wait for Bargain Berths in the first place and now they may not even exist.

I look forward to hearing from you, regarding this dismal situation and bad organization. One of your agents is posting me a copy of your customer charter.

Yours faithfully,

Jonathan Lee

cc. First Scotrail Chief Executive
BBC Watchdog
The Office of Rail Regulation.
Scotrail Customer Services by e-mail

Random thoughts for early summer

2006-06-14T21:42:00.000Z

Goodness - what a marathon week or so! I find myself at home and able to relax with myself for the first time in ages. Whilst busy, I've observed the following amusingly ludicrous things, and also observed my hatred for certain ridulous others:

1. Random meetings
I have revisited old thoughts on bumping into people randomly. A couple of weeks ago I was walking along Oxford St and I bumped into two people from Hertfordshire who I had accompanied the night before at St. Alban's Abbey. This wouldn't be so unusual except that they had just bumped into one another randomly as well. A total coincidence, although it makes you wonder why! Yesterday when walking to have a drink with Lou, Rob, Kath and Chrissy in Piccadilly, I noticed a shop with interest: I was drawn to it. I found myself thinking 'that is going to be useful soon. I'll remember this'. Odd.

2. Being undercharged
Of course in the scheme of things I'm overcharged more than I'm undercharged for purchases. There is a great childish glee at going to a restaurant and trying to get out of the door without giggling too much when they have forgotten to add the wine on to the bill. In the week before last, I was undercharged twice in as many days for food and a smoothie. Both incidents were at separate places. It just stuck me as odd. Jung would have said something about coincidence in time.

3. Totally wrong
A heavily pregnant lady sitting on the tube reading a Jilly Cooper novel. It made me laugh, but it was still totally wrong. I won't write what I was thinking!

4. Getting older
Twice in the past month or so I have gone right up to someone in a bar and looked inanely at them whilst smiling. I was sure that it was someone I knew, but it has turned out not to be. How embarrassing is that? My eyesight has certainly got worse. The second time it happened, I was meeting my friend Nic at the Yard in Rupert Street. When I arrived, I thought I saw him at the bar chatting to someone else. After my chesire cat routine, and then realising that I was wrong, everyone must have thought I was on an internet date. People kept looking and smiling once I met Nic!

5.Senility and madness
I spotted an old woman reading a book at Oxford Circus Tube. Shocking. She was also having difficulty walking down a staircase with her walking stick, and it was in rush hour. I almost pointed out that things might be easier for everyone if she stopped reading the book... I didn't notice whether it was Jilly Cooper or not: that really would be wrong.

6.Night busses
I have tried to use a night bus twice in the past three weeks. Both times the driver of the N73 has driven right past me and ignored a helpless man in his late twenties out-to-play later than he should be. Both times I have ended up getting a taxi because my need for my bed has overcome my stubborness. You see that is the only positive side of it all; I'm not impressed with London Transport.

7.First Scotrail
Dear Sir,

Imagine my surprise...... First Scotrail has annoyed me once too often and I have written a three-page 'Imagine my surprise' letter to them. It will be posted tomorrow morning. You watch the response. I may even post it here tomorrow......

love

Distraught in Walthamstow....

Study the amazing properties of sine waves

2006-06-01T21:56:00.000Z

Jehova quam multi sunt hostes mei!
Quam multi insurgunt contra me.
Quam multi dicunt de anima mea,
Non est ulla salus isti in Deo plane.
At tu, Jehova, clypeus es circa me;
Gloria mea, et extollens caput meam.
Voce mea ad Jehovam clamanti
Respondit mihi e monte sanctitatae suae maximae.
Ego cubui et dormivi; ego expergefeci me;
Quia Jehova sustentat me.
Non timebo a myriadibus populi,
Quas circum disposuerint metatores contra me.
Surge, surge Jehova; fac salvum me Deus mi;
Qui percussisti omnes inimicos meos maxilliam

Dentes improborum confregisti.
Jehova est salus: super populum tuum,
Sit benedictio tua maxime.

JL

Patience

2006-05-29T19:30:00.000Z

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

2006-05-24T00:14:00.000Z

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?

2006-05-14T21:27:00.000Z

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

2006-05-09T22:46:00.000Z

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

2006-05-08T10:38:00.000Z

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

2006-05-07T21:26:00.000Z

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

2006-05-07T14:40:00.000Z

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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Don't count stars or you might stumble

2006-05-02T21:35:00.000Z

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.....

Tube to power to flower

2006-04-23T22:19:00.000Z

A long time since the last update; mainly because my mind has been occupied with my life rather than life in general - hence if I were to write on that, it would be boring to most other people.

Upon arrival at Tottenham Hale station, should you be travelling on victoria (as it were), there is a new announcement,

"This is Tottenham Hale. This station has step-free access".

Now Nicola lives in Brixton, and I live in Walthamstow; I have been to visit Nicola a number of times recently. As far as I'm aware, Tottenham Hale is the only station on the Victoria Line that has 'step-free access'. It made me wonder, if you need such access, whether you like having days travelling up and down the Victoria Line since the only place you can get on and off is Tottenham Hale. Of course it is society power. The only reason for providing 'step-free' access is because 0.01% of your customers require it, and to discriminate against them is punishable by derision, fines, legal action, and the News of the World. If you can provide an example of intention to bore millions of pounds worth of lift shafts into the ground of London, you can happily be excused in your committment to society. That is until the environmentalists get hold of you for all the pollution caused by your lorries, bore machines, and concrete manufacture. Obviously if I needed (or am going to need) the easy access(!) I would be delighted. It is simply power of the angry conviction.

I've realised lately that life is all too unashamedly about power and that the whole concept of power is a pot at the end of a very long rainbow.

What is one man's principle and conviction is another man's view of facism. What is one man's being is the way another man will judge their principles to be. I judge myself as trying to be very patient and tolerant of other peoples' principles; to learn how others exist and think is the most satisfying thing ever - the experience of humanity's differences. Power on the other hand is like a drug - you always want more.

So much of life is about a need to be in control. As children we play games in which one person is always in charge. We grow up (sort of), go to work, play games with others, become pawns in other peoples' games, and aim towards greater power. Why do we go to work? To earn money and stability through promotion and success, so that one day we can have freedom from hierarchy, power and control in retirement. It is all so screwed up.

Of course, our innocent games of Doctors and Nurses as young creative things, teach us much to be useful later in life. Personal life can often be about power games. I despise power games - they make me sick - people who use them on me, people use them to others, but worst of all when I find myself involved in one. You just can't get out of it can you - what is the other person thinking? What do they expect me to do? What should I do to show I'm not getting involved? I've thought about it a lot lately - the strategy of life, the laquered chess board that is the template for my life.

It used to amuse me predicting how people I knew well would react to situations and scenarios, and often I was right. Today, I'm tired of it: my king is in stalemate, and strategy holds no interest. I'm gradually learning, the more I reveal my soul to people, the more power it potentially gives them, and the less I can resist joining in. That is who I am however - I'm open and honest, and emotionally in tune, but I am tired of it. Perhaps this is a power game me writing this now? To me, I am writing what has been exercising me for a while without solution. I hate not having solution.

But I have restbite from this. Life has its total relaxations. After a very exhaustative Easter, I went with Rel to visit Claire and Rupert in Surrey. It has been a long time since I have been so relaxed. We have no power issues, we just drink and talk, and laugh, and eat, and philosophise. The colour and excitement to the chess board like a flower breaking through at random points.

Look at relaxed Jon.

Jon with Toby:

Jon pretending to be a bird:

Jon with Claire and Rupert and Rel on the front cover of our 12th century polyphony album:

Sea Change

2006-04-12T23:08:00.000Z

Photocopiers are evil creations. They have a knack of creating chaos where order existed and where there was once art. Today I spent a whole afternoon of work photocopying some sets of music ready to be engraved. It should have taken but an hour except that the first photocopier failed to scan random pages correctly, and then the second photocopier on which I repeated the exercise (totalling probably about 500 pages), managed to split 3 copies into 6 randoms, and jammed once every 5 minutes. The rest of the afternoon was spent sifting the copies to find out which pages were missing.

It was a day destined to go wrong from the moment I woke up late and got to the Victoria line to discover it fully broken past Euston and the next train being a 15 minute wait. Needless to say, I didn't arrive at work until half past 10. Lunch was spent in the post office in a unusually long queue, and then the cashier's computer crashed. This evening, I accompanied a rehearsal for Gavin and on the way back, the north circular jammed and the bus was terminated leaving us stranded in Edmonton.

It led me all to wonder whether there are such things as bad days. Does the earth have a magnetic shift or a change of spin speed which knocks everything over? It is certainly true that things always tend to go wrong at once. I've come to the conclusion that far from going wrong, it is the normal things which I have grabbed onto as going wrong in order to persuade myself that life continues as normal.

Alas, my bad day has coincided with an epiphany: hence the grabbing on to normal every day things. Last year I was very unhappy in my job, and the things that supported me were the very important and secure life and relationships I had. Why is this related you ask? My life has seen a sea change: my epiphany is that this is year has the potential to become very lonely. As I sit here, I am very happy in my new job, but my personal life has already begun to unravel around me and today picked up speed: this change is my magnetic shift and my change of speed - not the planet's. It is my earth that has suddenly moved rather suddenly: some key supports and things that have kept me going have disappeared, or will be later on in the year.

I am tired and emotionally worn out at the moment - my brain has been working in overdrive for some time, but today it reached capacity for too many problems at once. It is a good thing to force yourself time to think and wittle away all the supports in your life so you can identify yourself and your needs without all the cladding. As long as you remain objective and try to purge emotions as much as you can, I believe it a positive evolution. But I am frightened for the wilderness to come.

Thankfully I am spending time in Surrey after Easter weekend is over, and I have randomly been offered a two week opportunity to think by myself and sort my head out later on in May.

Summer is certainly not i cummin in

2006-04-11T22:07:00.000Z

Today's theme is lunacy. I will freely admit to being fairly lunatic now and again. For instance I have it in my head to apply for the job that Rel is advertising at the moment - obviously I would pretend to be a barely literate silly person with a lot to say in the covering letter, and for whom principles are something you pick up at Camden market. That can be tomorrow's homework. An example of lunacy, but only part-time and avoidable if I was pretending to be boring. The weather is very lunatic; in less than 20 days time, we should be dancing around maypoles and singing barely veiled filthy songs (madrigals) to welcome in summer. The weather is however stuck in winter and is foul. But I am stronger than the weather - it will not beat me.

Tuesday Lunacy:

1. When I arrived at Oxford Circus tube station this morning a man even shorter than me (and it happens I tell you) had got off the train too. He proceeded to act like a Monty Python character that had been binned. Whilst carrying a plastic briefcase (the sort that swots had at school... remember that?) he walked along the platform hitting himself, cursing under his breath, screwing up his face and making his hands into fists before going back to hitting himself. It is the sort of thing I might do if I realised I had got drunk the night before and had told somebody that they look like a chimpanzee and acted like a four-week old poodle. At least I would only do it once - he must have told someone that they looked like Gail Porter or something because, in the middle of the crowd, he continued to do it until the surface. It was amusing and I did get smiles from one or two very attractive people on the escalator... I'm pretending that that isn't related to my laughing at the man.

2. Outside Oxford Circus station a lunatic man laughing like a hyena so physically that he had to steady himself on the rails around Exit 1. What was that about I wonder? I was going to point out that it was Tuesday morning and far too early when you are hungover, but I didn't think he would understand my distress, so I didn't.

3. Going to the swimming pool at lunchtime in my ploy to lose weight, swimming 120 lengths, and then going to buy lunch in Villandry on Gt Portland Street. I had pasta carbonara. I tell you ... no self-restraint is me! There is the lunacy of going swimming and having such a big lunch... but Villandry is worth going into: not only the food looks fabulous and tastes fabulous, but the serving staff always look wonderful and attractive (I can't vouch for their taste - cannabalism is not my thing). Suffice to say that it wasn't the cheese I wanted from the cheese counter! [now I'm the lunatic]

4. Walking past Piccadilly Circus to see the Metropolitan Police's new Police Box. I know that Doctor Who has been a big success, but is there really a need for a limousine Tardis like this:

Silly. Lunatic

5. Spending all evening practising Bach Chorale preludes on Gavin's large organ (oh yes... bring on the jokes):

So a day of lunacy. Let's hope I have something more useful to say when I next write.

Be Minor

2006-04-10T00:30:00.000Z

Well it's been a while since I've actually been moved to tears by music that I was playing, but it happened tonight. In all honesty, Bach's B Minor mass is one of the most Godlike works ever written, and anyone serious about music should at least know it. My emotional feelings arrived in the last movement which is the most beautiful fugue; its simplicity after so much intensity, a 4 hour rehearsal and a 2 hour concert, general tiredness, and recent emotional stetchings all contributed I think. Bach was truly a genius, and I shall remember that performance for a long time, if only for the sheer exultation and emotion I felt at the end (and for the need of agile jumpings between harpsichord and organ!)

Gavin and I were both playing, Rel, Claire, Rupert, Harry, and Eon all came along to the performance, and we went for a wonderful thai meal afterwards, got the last train to London, and then a taxi back to Walthamstow... decadence.

Bed time for tired continuo players!

Tuba Smarties

2006-04-08T23:59:00.000Z

I do maintain that the tube is an amazing place. The control room at Covent Garden Station today gave the following proclamation:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please beware that pickpockets are in operation this afternoon"

It led me to wonder whether London Underground actually sublets the pickpocketing on the tube, and if there is a certain timescale for it.

A fairly unusual day all around, I met my friends Luke and Ruth, Helen and Andy, Clare, David and my Godson Benjamin. We had lunch in a lovely vegetarian cafe in Neal's Yard. Some years ago when I was an undergraduate, Ruth, Helen, Clare and David used to sing in my choir at college. In those days, I was the one who held court around the tables - usually with bottles of wine and filthy gossip and/or high philosophy. These days it is 1 year old Benjamin who holds the court: he is clearly the most important person in the room. Perhaps it is because I have passed it on to him that I no longer possess this gift. In days gone by, I could play a room like a game and come out of it having charmed most people. These days I just can't be bothered, or at least it feels like it...!

Age... it moves on. I went to the Edge tonight for the first time in ages. I miss convivial times there with people now distant and years now gone!

Bach B minor mass tomorrow. It should brighten my mood.

A stringy thingy

2006-04-07T16:03:00.000Z

"What's pulling your strings? "

I knew the voice was directed at me from the moment I heard it; it wasn't a menacing voice, but it did belong to the lady who had been irritating passengers on the train that had just arrived into Euston station.

"Just a question", she said.

During the journey, this woman had been firing javelin questions and statements at innocent and awkward passengers:

"You have beautiful eyes. I'm just saying."

So when this voice asked the string question and the mouth and eyes of the Irish woman (who had previously and apparently been looking out of the train door) turned to look at me, I was quite surprised. Not surprised because she meant me, but surprised because I had been expecting it to be me she meant, and I had been right. At the time I said something that wasn't an answer in a plummy accent, and in the style of a privately educated ra-ra chap to which she smiled, evidently in possession of the answer she needed.

This encounter was over a week and a half ago just after I had arrived back from a holiday in Geneva, but I was reminded of it yesterday morning. In a break from sitting at my desk, I left the office and walked to Chappells of Bond Street to find a piece of music that I needed to do some research on for a publication. Oxford Street was full of people; this of course is not unusual, but the insight of my Irish inquisitor came back to mind: What are these people doing? Who is pulling their strings? What is pulling their strings? It is an interesting idea to work out what people are motivated by, or what they think they are motivated by. For me the question often comes back in private thought as I am fiercely analytical of most things I do. I suppose to a certain extent, what you think motivates you, is only what catalyst you use to find what everyone seeks - freedom, happiness and satisfaction. There are plenty of philosophers who have written on this much more eruditely than me, but it is still fascinating. I think the strings which pull me have carrots of fulfilment on the end like a mirage oasis of whatever I think my motivation is at that time in my life. Right now, being Friday evening, the strings pulling me are the need to leave my desk and head to a rehearsal in order that I can then go and meet Rachel and Claire in Islington for a drink. I go for a drink to fulfil the end of my week, and to relax with two like minded intellects. A short-term fulfilment but with potential long-term implication.

But fulfilment changes depending on what happens. My life has been going through a very odd phase over the past few weeks. Like a wind change. I have found stages of fulfilment, and I have found answers to a great many questions. However, bizarrely, as if someone had opened one window and shut another, a vast swathe of friends have, without real contact for ages, suddenly decided to get in touch. Even more bizarrely, a majority of them with about a 3 year gap. Another one telephoned me today. The converse is also true. Of course, this is all the Rhythm of Life again, and evolution must have fallow periods too. It is interesting how a natural balance is achieved, and significantly how what is 'pulling my strings' changes depending on which puppeteer is on duty. After all, a river which stands still, and doesn't evolve will get a return of stagnancy on its stubborness.

A thought for the weekend. I'm off to find a pair of scissors.

Have you glot what it takes?

2006-04-05T22:51:00.000Z

It occurred to me after work yesterday that I am a polyglot. I was very pleased to discover this as it is a silly word and applying it to me just makes me more silly (and as my friends know, I am quite silly). My language abilities include English, German, French, Russian, and Afrikaans. Well... that is a bit of a lie: my English abilities and German abilities are (mostly) assured, my French abilities (as those in Geneva two weekends ago will testify) is limited to simple stuctures in the present tense, my Russian abilities are limited to saying where I live (and a repeating of the word for hedgehog), and I speak one sentence of Afrikaans. Perhaps they can all link together to make me a polyglot? I think so, and so do you.

My knowledge of etymology is a bit third-hand or pub-quizzy, and it was always where I fell down in essays at university - I was never able to exhibit such things as knowledge of language origin or history of being; it is what comes of being too tied up in experiencing people rather than tracts and theses. However, yesterday evening following the polyglot revelation, I found myself sitting in a bar in Piccadilly with my friends Lou, Nic, Kath and Rob. At one time we all worked in the same building and it cemented our bond of friendship: we would head to a bar regularly to discuss the problems with the company and the issues of the day. It has been a year and a half since we were all in the same building at the same time, but the bond of friendship is stronger than ever, and we still meet regularly (with Chrissy as well). In some ways we are older and wiser and nowadays discuss grown-up issues like relationships, marriage, mortgages*, and bathroom redecoration, but we still drink lots of wine and talk about sex and what's hot and happening.. almost a group Bridget Jones experience.

Why is that relevant to polyglots? Well, drinking wine is a big part of this relationship, and I was wondering why I never manage to have 'just the one' glass I intend (acknowledges Mrs Wembley). It is clearly because, when someone says 'let's have another bottle', I say, 'why not!' I then decided that actually when my friends call me a 'Wino', they must actually just be acting middle class (and Surbiton) and pronouncing Why not in a french accent. In fact, Wino is just slang for 'middle-class alcoholic'. Clearly if a polyglot (or poly-glow if you are Margot Ledbetter) is someone who can read/write/speak several languages, then a wino (derived from the expression why not) is someone who can open/drink/dispose of several bottles of wine!

I felt happier leaving Piccadilly having discovered that I was a Polyglot and a Wino, and having realised (for the latter) that it was because 'I'm just a girl who can't say no.'

So I came home to Walthamstow and went to the pub with a nice South African musician who is staying with us at the moment. We celebrated my self-discovery with a pint of beer.

* Isn't it interesting how the word mortgage contains the french word for 'death'. Answers on a postcard. Watch my etymology go (very wrong...)

The Rhythm of Life is a powerful thing

2006-04-03T22:32:00.000Z

Everyone complains about the tube; as a Londoner it is as genetic as your hair colour. It means so many things to different people. I use the tube to think about the rubbish that circles around my brain - it is the only time of my day that I am forced to sit with my own thoughts for 20 minutes. Many arguments have been avoided and friendships saved as a result. Today I bumped into a friend from Cambridge who I haven't seen in over 3 years. All the more bizarre because he lives in Azabaijan and was in my carriage.

If you look around, the tube is like its own society - a microcosm under the streets of London; it is full of people who are so totally different. When I am happy and not thinking so intensely, I notice couples and find them fascinating. Some couples argue, some look in love, some look unhappy, some should really find a room, some are gay, and some are probably not in a relationship at all. I think I will attack the relationship concept at another time - for the time being, assume that by couple I mean two people attached to one another by means of a love partnership slash bond.

Some couples are stunningly attractive both individually and together, some couples, to me, look ugly, and some couples look like they are entirely wrong.

Do the attractive ones have anything apart from the lust which must be distractingly present?
Will they have anything in their relationship when the inescapability of age attacks their bodies?

Do the ugly ones find one another attractive or are they just in love?
Are ugly people automatically attracted to other ugly people?

What about the mixed ones? What is going on in the heads? Does the attractive half wish his/her partner was a beauty? Does the uglier one feel as if they owe something. Or have they just found real love, beauty and solace in one another.

Of course 'relationship' could almost mean anything these days, so these are futile and improper questions. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and good on both beholders for fitting their jigsaws together as much as they can.

It is really a question of perception and perception is certainly one of the Rhythms of Life. Cole Porter fans unite. Why do I find people beautiful or ugly? I suppose I've learnt it. It is the same way that the arts I find beautiful are only so because they follow rules which I've been told (or experienced) make something stunning. Or is that true? Perception is evolving all the time in each individual - it's what can make diversity.

I didn't like coffee the first several times I drank it, in much the same way that I'm sure my love of Bach only grows the more I experience music. When I was 11 years old and sang in the Premiere of Michael Garrick's 'Judas Kiss', the sight and sound of Norma Winstone scat singing was the funniest thing I had ever seen. Five years later when my Dad took me and a friend to Ronnie Scott's to see Betty Carter, it was the most informative and amazing experience of my Jazz love. My perception of scat singing had changed: my beholding had changed.

There is no answer to this ramble yet. It is thought in progress. I have a lovely image of Freud in my head. He is sitting on the Victoria Line surrounded by people.

Expect more...

An addendum

2006-04-02T21:49:00.000Z

Something has been bothering me all day. My blog. I've been thinking about setting one up for weeks; I have several friends who are excellent blog correspondants and who possess excellent brains for the purpose. The inspiration to my aspiration: they hold that key responsibility. All day I have been excited about the subjects I could tackle so I obviously like it really.

I thought about it on the tube whilst on the way home from playing the organ. Is it the exhibitionism of blogging that worries me? No. I've always been secretly keen to show what is happening in my mind, because I feel it unusual. I'm an open-private person. Some things are strictly private, but my emotions and feelings are, were someone to ask, quite open.

Clearly it is the name that worries me. Blog is a toilet word. It is a poo that won't flush away. It even sounds like it.

The problem with these made-up words is that they sound synthetic. Weblog sounds like a spider poison. Antecedent and consequent are both clumsy and don't sound beautiful at all. The curse of compound words.

So if not a blog, what am I writing? A webiary? A webjourn? An Intiary?

Tony Hart had it right in 1986. This will be my Gallery. My mental exhibitionism is contained within a Gallery.

Pretentious. Pompous. But get used to it if you want to read further...

First ramblings

2006-04-02T13:33:00.000Z

Everyone has one don't they? It is the thing to do.

"Check my blog"

I'm not a huge fan of abbreviations, and I pretend to be indivudual and not follow the crowd. Clearly I use abbreviations as much as anybody else, and society's magnetic drag catches me every time. I sit here in Levi Jeans and a natty (some would say trendy) H&M jumper. A victim of (not-so-clever but nevertheless ubiquitous) marketing.

So I have one - a blog, or weblog, or 'blog (as pedants might say). It's alright because I know I'm only a part-time pedant, in the same way that I only pretend to be individual. What does mark me from others is the way I think, and the things I see as funny or worth noting.

Thankfully my task to be individual will be aided by my adherence to society's pointing finger, and I hope to use this blog to explore my life and thoughts. Hopefully someone else might at some stage read it, and enjoy the random nature of my life and the thoughts that transcend. Until now I have always resisted the 'blog drag' with the knowledge that it would be all too easy to use it to be manipulative, or to make a point, or upset someone who I know was following it. Let's see how I go.

As they say (but not me, obviously),

"Watch this space...."