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In fact there is nothing either artificial or intelligent about what is to follow; but it is Friday afternoon after all.

Things can only get better.

I’m finishing the working week as I started it; lying flat on my back.

The thought occurred to me that incapacitation brought me back to writing on Monday and five days later, having attempted work rest and play, I’m in the same predicament I started with; therefore returning to some writing seems the most appropriate course of action right now.

The lower back pain has provided a constant backdrop (excuse the pun) to a pretty good week, seemingly taking the fun out of enjoyable activities has at least served to remind me why one’s health should never be taken for granted.

Anyhow there’s no time to wallow.

It’s Friday afternoon and the weekend lies ahead; even if it has to be enjoyed only vertically or horizontally; there are plenty of activities where sitting or driving are not required; just opening the front door and walking around in your own back yard of beautiful North Yorkshire on a sunny weekend will be a good start.

Saturday brings Yorkshire Day; the 1st of August, with crowds lining the streets of Ripon to cheer the St. Wilford‘s day parade; floats from all the local clubs and organisations, everybody happy; just one day that really celebrates all that is good in this amazing city.

Sunday brings Tockwith Show and a celebration of rural agricultural life with added excitement of family and friends involvement in various activities; not least the official ‘Brave the Shave’ beard and hair shaving of my hero Arnold Warneken; his heroic fundraising for MacMillan Cancer Charity deserve nothing but great praise, sending best wishes to Alex; well done Arnold; I’m looking forward to photographing this historic event!

It will be Monday before I see the chiropractor; you know what it’s like when you think something is going to improve and then it never does - in fact it gets worse and then on day five you think; why the hell didn’t I listen to my body on day two?

Well that’s where I am.

It’s day six

Repeated lying around or standing for hours while not at work, avoiding the sofa, being in bed at nine, and generally being a bore; not to mention when I did attempt to go to work, I whacked my head while trying to adjust my office chair back, was mocked for wearing yellow crocks as I obviously couldn’t get my socks and shoes on, and then to cap it all, had to look down on everyone from a pulpit position, using a high pedestal table as a makeshift desk…

So I turned to technology to make things easier; with everyone talking about AI, it seemed to be a good time to investigate if truly, every area of my life could be automated in some way to make better use of time (lying around).

If this really is the future, then I don’t hold out much hope.

Meeting notes taken without lifting a pen, data plotted with locations on various maps, files organised and conversations collectively considered to provide genuine insight, yes, the list is endless and with the help of my new friends Claude and Granola in the office, I can see some real progress has been made; however, I’m far from convinced that automation spells the end for all of us; as it seems the today programme on BBC Radio 4 would have us believe, every morning.

Think back to only six days ago; full health, not a care in the world.

Walking through a field with two spaniels, blue sky, golden corn all around; a warm breeze, the music from opening scenes of Russell Crowe in Gladiator; testament to real living.

Listening to the latest William Boyd novel, closing your eyes and just imagining the scene around you; the smoke, the light streaming in.

Flicking through my dog eared pile of 15 x 10 cm mono prints; remembering shooting that seafront, standing in that alleyway or catching the look on his face.

Lying here on the patio, perfectly still, staring blankly into the blue sky; hearing only the birds, thinking of nothing at all.

Sensory, real, connections.

None of these things can be enhanced with AI; no tool exists, nor can a robot be created that will enhance or replace the connection your mind has to your physical environment…

However many apps I subscribe or download I won’t be able to better the aroma of that first coffee in the morning; no agent can map the mindfulness or tranquility of five minutes silence.

Taking note of the air around me and at times, slowing to a complete halt has taught me quite a bit this week; yes, the real value is to be found in using technology to maximise the time available for yourself.

And that time for myself has been devoid of screens, away from my phone, desktop (x2 locations) or laptop…

11.38

Lying (hiding) here still, safely on my yoga mat, I hear Stuart the gardener’s van; starting up and backing away from the house.

The guilty pleasure of avoidance is short lived; of course events will conspire; this is merely a delaying tactic from the inevitable conversation and explanation that everyone demands over time;

I’m sorry Stuart I’ve just not had the wherewithal to engage today; let’s hope I’m back to normal for your visit in two weeks. Certainly I won’t be doing any gardening in the intervening period.

Likewise I’m missing out on seeing some favourite friends today because an hour sat in the car going each way is pretty much unthinkable currently; it’s my loss. I’m sure they will be able to find something else to do; they don’t need a grumpy hunchback rambling on, that’s for sure.

12.04

I don’t usually have butter on my toast, but today I needed it.

Standing barefoot in the garden looking up to shout at the blue, blue sky.

I’m listening to the bin-men as they cheerily empty and trundle back the Friday general refuge black bin (not the blue recycling one or the brown garden waste one; oh no, those are quite different buy equally momentous occasions to be covered off another time).

Although laughing is a painful experience currently I couldn’t stop chuckling when I remembered my son, William, many years ago pointing out to my mother that she had used rather too much butter on her toast at breakfast.

Following her generational lead, I slowly shuffled back to the kitchen and take the fridge-cold M&S food collection salted Jersey premium butter and slide the knife through the thick dark yellow block; shaving curls of this precious material and tumbling them (as Nigella would say) onto my freshly toasted wholemeal bread.

Two hot toasted slices; the regulation lunch ration, now fully enhanced by taking my marmite and spreading it over the cold blobs of lightly melted butter.

A treat reserved only for this sort of day.

The world is still revolving; nothing artificial or intelligent about that, it’s just a fact.

You Can Do Anything

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Where I have I been?

I don’t know in truth, somewhere between the Cure in a Forest and Ed O’Brien’s Blue Morpho stuck on endless repeat

I’m running towards nothing

When I look, it was 1980 when 35 minutes of 17 seconds was released; I was 17.

That’s good

Now I’m 63 and crawling towards nowhere; well this week anyway; as I have put my back out somehow.

How frustrating (he cursed to himself in an ironical manner)

Currently Im lying face down outside on the warm patio; the soft woolly rug a welcome distraction from sitting upright in my office chair two flight of stairs up.

I gave up on that at 9am

Now I’m feeling the pain of the base of my spine; right here, remembering how only 48 hours ago, the ease of gentle movements was so taken for granted.

Bike ride

Park run

Dog walking

Now I’m hobbling to the bathroom.

How the mighty have fallen

Good to focus the mind though……

Not that I should expect you to read this and feel sorry for me; or even worse, have your own perfectly pleasant Bank Holiday Monday ruined by taking on my woes; you probably have much better things to be doing, the sort of projects that keep you out of trouble on that spare May Monday at the start of the month that’s not quite warm enough for shorts but nice enough to sit in the conservatory with some on anyway.

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So you had better stop here and bookmark this article, you can come back to it later but I do feel your time may be better spent because this could be quite a long rant and your list will still be there on Tuesday; when you have other commitments and maybe work to think about?

You see, I had a list for Saturday too, but that never happened 😷

Rationalise the summer wardrobe

Get out and do at least 40 miles on your bike ahead of 62 mile charity ride on 9th May

Rationalise and review important documents for loved ones

Find and book some holidays, you have not been anywhere for ages

Sort the sheep out, especially the one that won’t come into the corner of the field for his nuts, ahead of shearing in the next few weeks

Prepare some lovely meals and avoid barbecues at all costs (it’s still way too early)

Well, none of that happened; in fact, nothing much happened at all after a few beers and the football on Friday night; that seems an eternity ago now.

Because the truth is, being ill is something that I am exceptionally good at; in case any proof or additional verification was required, the last 48 hours have reinforced the facts; not that it was ever in doubt to Mrs B or myself, we have been 100% proven disappointingly correct and now, the fact that it’s also a Bank Holiday weekend has given me the opportunity of mansplaining my illness to you, dear reader, whilst also reminding all of us just how important it is to be, and remain healthy.

I bet you are really reaching for the lawn-mower now eh?

Being ill focuses the mind on what is important.

You can have everything lined up; you can have all the plans, all the money, all the time, all the trinkets and possessions, all the holidays and all the loving relationships, even all the dogs and cats in the world; but if you feel ill, are ill or don’t have your health, then really you have nothing.

That might sound ultra dramatic for a bit of man-flu but the truth is, I didn’t know what the ilness was and it struck so quickly - scary really when you think how quickly the situation can deteriorate and your own frail existence is called into question; one minute it’s Friday night and after a lovely day with the dogs at Saltburn-by-the-Sea, you are having a beer and watching your team; 12 hours later you can’t get out of a raging sweat-infested bed.

Come Sunday, I couldn’t even wake up, never mind get up; a groaning coughing snot encrusted monster marauding around with no strength or energy; I eventually got downstairs at noon and spent most of the afternoon reading the excellent William Boyd “Trio” before the whole of Sunday disappeared and a very early bedtime beckoned.

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Now it’s the Bank Holiday Monday and the day is running away with me already.

When able bodied, I try to avoid working on a Monday; feeling terrible today, combined with a Public Holiday from Banking that I don’t need or recognise, the idea of work is laughable, I’m ill, I’m 63 and not leaving the house, spending most of the day in bed reading a book, constantly coughing and blowing one’s nose is really not what I was hoping for.

Mrs B was up early and out with dogs, it’s 7:30 and I’m still in a coma, the second and third mugs of tea have done little to rouse me (why is the idea of coffee so abhorrent when you are really ill?)

Three clear objectives for the day, if it ever starts…

Firstly, the last twenty or so pages of Trio. Quality time reading silently is always time well spent (How does William Boyd do it? Beautifully crafted story-telling at its best)

Secondly, improve appearance beyond snot encrusted monster; shower, trim hair, cut nails, shave, crisp clean clothing - appear downstairs looking something like the person you were earlier on Friday rather than an escaped confused patient perhaps?

Finally, open MacBook and attempt some writing and admin; cancel immediate appointments; plan to work from home on Tuesday and Wednesday, cancel yoga and spin classes, move social engagements for at least a week, possibly two, think long and hard about that upcoming cycle commitment and the lovely people who have sponsored you; do everything in your power to have a super healthy week.

That was a clear plan I was proud to execute.

And now as I look at Hank, asleep in his amazon box, I can formulate a less rigorous plan for the rest of this Bank Holiday afternoon; a plan that may just involve not doing very much at all.

And there is nothing wrong with that (I have to tell myself repeatedly); when we are ill, we need to rest and get better.

I hope I have not ruined your day; I truly wish you a healthy and enjoyable ending to your Bank Holiday and whatever you are up to, remember…

You can do Anything.

To qualify; the sort who are always telling you how busy they are, rather than the ones who are genuinely busy just getting on with stuff and being too busy to tell the rest of us how busy they are; you know the sort?

And now that the clocks have sprung forward; I don’t much care for the ‘What time is it?’ brigade; an equally annoying subset of individuals who spend the subsequent days after the clocks go forward or back, explaining to everyone how they don’t know what time it is, or they may need a week to adjust their busy schedules.

And thirdly, while we are getting all the negative pre-conditions out of the way; in an effort not to be too busy my self, I did vow to stop making lists this year, or at least to stop writing them down in my favourite notebook on a daily basis every morning just so I could go through them later with three different highlighter pens and mark my achievements for the last 24 hours…or even worse, add various completed tasks to that mornings’ list as an exercise in post rationalisation, only to provide immediate relief and satisfaction by highlighted the completed jobs in yellow of green.

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So, let’s combine all of these elements into something positive today by admitting rather smugly that I have had a fantastic Happy Monday; and I hope you have too?

To clarify, I have been busy, the clocks did go forward, I didn’t have time to think, and so I made a list and here I am ticking it off.

Even worse for you, I turned it into a short piece of nonsense writing, and you are reading it now (I’m sorry)

I always think a time-stamp list is good, especially on a day like today where everything seemed to happen on the hour, every hour…

7.00am alarm (or was it 6.00am or 8.00am?)

8.00am off to walk the dogs at my favourite ancient henge

9.00am black home to feed dogs and get cleaned up

10.00am off to Harrogate to meet a lovely supplier for brunch

11.00am poached eggs & avo toast at Hoxton North before it closes forever (so sad)

12.00pm drive back home in time to be even busier…

13.00pm short video call with colleagues about dogfood

14.00pm back to the henge with the dogs to enjoy more fresh air

15.00pm another video call with some financial people about dogfood

16.00pm a trip into Ripon with Mrs B to fuel my vinted habit & post parcels

17.00pm unload shopping, feed the dogs some quality food and get changed again

18.05pm spin class at leisure centre, mildly hypnotic tunes and heavy sweating

19.00pm home in time to hear the Archers and shower/change again

20.00pm bacon and beans on toast with a Guinness zero - heavenly

21.00pm another episode of Blue Light Series 3; why have we only found this now?

22.15pm bed time reading with butter by Asako Yuzuki

I’m conscious I sound a bit wanky in a Day in the Life Of/Gregg W sort of way, so perhaps it’s just better to paraphrase a great day with a shorter list?

• Left the house five times

• Walked the dogs twice

• Had toast based meal twice

• Did 17,000 steps and a spin

• Had 1,356 calories on counter

• Avoided alcohol for 24 hours

• Interacted with 24 people

• Drank 2.5 litres of water

• Told Kay I loved her 4 times

• Over-ran by 15 minutes……..

Whatever the outcome, it’s been a great day of doing stuff and that meant I spent most of it not knowing what the time was; just getting on with the next hour and eating the next toast based meal, sucking in the cold spring air and looking up to the big dark blue sky and fluffy clouds saying to myself

I am lucky to be alive

I love a Happy Monday

And of course, you, and I, can do anything - if we set our minds to it

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Thanks for reading You Can Do Anything

Now I feel bad and am scraping around to put something out here.

It doesn’t matter because nobody noticed.

I just need to have a word with myself.

Truth is, I make these ridiculous rules for myself that I know are unrealistic and unrequited; I don’t know about you, but writing should not be a burden to produce nor consume; it should be a joy and I’ve gt enough things giving me joy this weekend to probably keep me away from the keyboard for at least the balance of the weekend; I hope you have too.

Have a week off from me, you deserve it.

You can do anything

Getting some weight off has obviously helped, as has a specific set of monotonous exercises, yoga every Tuesday for the last year, physiotherapy with the team at Ripon Community hospital for a s long s I can remember; and a lot of jogging, swimming and cycling at increasingly slow pace until we are reduced to dog walking only.

Sadly none of that was going to fix it and quite frankly I’m sick of squatting around the house in a semi crouched position with a red rubber band pulling my legs together for 45 steps at a time looking like a stranded lobster in a Padstow eatery.

So in December I got referred to orthopaedics at the hospital and in the last few weeks I have seen a lovely chap who told me I can have a total hip replacement.

He’s going to perform the surgery himself; he’s a consultant and he’s done it hundreds of times before; so thank goodness for that!

I’m moving to the next phase of the saga; the excitement is mounting but of course the wait on the NHS could be many weeks; I just don’t know when this marvel will occur, the very fact that it will actually occur is enough for me right now; the anticipation is a new surprisingly welcome feeling that replaces the chimp in my mind saying I’m a fraud and should ‘man up’ and live with the lack of sleep, constant pain and misery.

And Kay is even more pleased than I am; especially about the misery as she’s been hearing it for two years too…

Health, your mobility, just getting around with a smile on your face; we take it for granted don’t we?

Until we can’t.

My sister was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis years ago and has therefore been living with it for quite a while; makes my hip pale into insignificance really; my upcoming surgical intervention to fix a specific body part contrasts starkly with a complex progressive autoimmune condition that brings uncertainty and fatigue in equal measure.

I don’t think of her as somebody with MS, of course; not because I’m in denial, but because she would’t want me to treat her any differently to how I always have; as the annoying younger brother who has little time to talk about important stuff and even less knowledge of complex medical matters.

She still looks the same and is bizarrely chirpy because that’s the way she was made but there’s nothing funny about what’s actually happening 🤬. Closely monitored by specialists at the Anne Rowling Clinic in Edinburgh, she’s been actively fighting the MS for years with cutting-edge monitoring and treatment options; I’m glad to say she’s retiring this year and will be having a less stressful but still fulfilling time as she adapts to a new era.

So Hip Hip Hooray for that….

So on the back of that, I got a new bike so I could feel like a little kid again; buoyed on by lovely friends and neighbours looking for a healthy challenge to drag us out of the cold wet winter months, I’m going to get back in the saddle after a protracted dog-induced absence from cycling and commit to a 60+ mile charity ride in May

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I have done it before a couple of times; but that was a decade ago before two cocker spaniels, one mental breakdown and a career doing something else, in fact that’s just reminded me; I need to pay my £41 and book in…

There, I’ve done it now; I’ve also set up a fundraising page for anyone who’s interested (but no pressure) in sponsoring me and my pals; it’s the Rotary Club of Ripon 2026 100k Bike Ride round North Yorkshire and it will be raising funds for Yorkshire Air Ambulance, Saint Michael's Hospice, Dementia Forward and other charities; so along with thinking about my lovely sister, I’ve done something useful already today!

No time to write now, I need to get out on my new bike and be thankful that I still can, even with a dodgy hip; it’s the first of March, the flowers are poking through the soil and the sun will be warming my back as I smile and pedal past you very slowly; thankful that I still can.

You can do anything.

Well, it’s time to get it out again and start writing, thanks to the fantastic Fiona Georgiou Hunt and the Harrogate Writers Collective to whom I have to admit to being a rather ‘flakey’ member for the last three or four years; running the group is only one of Fiona’s many talents, including co-writing, screen writing and producing festivals and projects for Screen Yorkshire, the Short+Sweet festival and many more.

When the email landed I knew it was right up my street;

I was hooked; OK I had not been to the group since last June; spending £30 and making this commitment was probably the best decision I had made for quite a while.

The camera has gone away, you may be pleased to hear; the MacBook and notebook are out, I made a commitment and it’s time to write for the next couple of weeks; I’m hoping to get back on track with the Vondelpark project and make real progress before the next Writers Collective meeting in March

Where did I go wrong before?

I had started painting pictures of numerous individuals, each character created from an image taken on my travels; usually on two wheels.

Each would be introduced independently, only to be linked by the unbeknown physical proximity they shared to each other, going about routine travel though a favourite cycleway of mine in the magnificent city of Amsterdam; the Vondelpark.

Following the workshop I can see why Ingrid and all of her pals were grinding to a halt; there was no structure to the story; I had just set of writing without the required building blocks in place to lead the reader through a proven series of scenes and acts towards a defined outcome; the project will now be re-worked over the coming weeks and months with this fabulous knowledge that has really hit a chord with me; thanks Fiona!

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Turning to one of my favourite authors, William Boyd, who I have eulogised over many times before, I’m now overlaying my new set of rules to understand what it is that makes his (and everyone’s) stories so good; and it is structure, simple as that.

Imagine being able to construct something so beautiful as Fascination, a collection of short stories including Lunch, fabulously read by Bill Nighy in the audiobook version, one of my all time favourites.

Simple, a beginning, middle and end; or act one, two and three; taking the story and developing it.

If only I could create characters like Gabriel Dax; Gabriel’s Moon was the first Dax I read, setting out his childhood and early life; little was I to know of the next four or five audiobooks that would almost spontaneously combust into my head over the cold winter months we have just endured.

What the fuck was going on in his unconsciousness?

That’s what Gabriel was thinking to himself as he alarmingly dreamed of an encounter with Dr Katrina Hass, his psychoanalyst - but he was really thinking of Faith Green, his handler and part time lover?

I think it’s ‘The Predicament’ where he….or was it Armadillo?

I don’t think so; he wrote that one in 1998 and Gabrielle wasn’t in it; or was he in it?

Or was Armadillo just a highly believable side story of corruption and London property insurance scams surrounding another Boyd character, who’s name escapes me; the accidentally embroiled loss adjuster in London that’s not related at all?

You see that’s the problem, I have read so many William Boyd audiobooks / actual books in recent months that I can’t differentiate between them, they are all blurring into one, and that’s what I love about William Boyd

OK I’m not a real writer, but I am seriously envious of that ability to enthral and transport the reader into the world of that character, I would so love to create a number of related stories that took you somewhere, anywhere, dear reader!

That’s why I started creating Vongelpark - but that’s another story.

I’m going to have to find Gabriel in the pre-war ‘Waiting for Sunrise’ - I’ve just seen this was the earliest in the series, the travel writer drifting through Europe who becomes an intelligence agent by mistake; or have I read that one already?

Truth is, I’m not sure, and does it really matter?

Surely we want the reader to just want more, and not have to worry too much about the order of things; rather like having a glass of white wine after you have unfortunately run out of red; it’s not the end of the world even it it’s not what you planned.

Having checked some notes, apparently Gabrielle Dax makes an entrance on the periphery of some books that are not considered as the true ‘Dax novels’ - this is exactly the sort of structure I want to create with the Vondelpark series; Alfred could be cycling along with Gabrielle Dax on that cold dark Amsterdam morning; life happens and we don’t know who we are stood next to in any situation, what is their story and how do we unknowingly feature?

I am advised the correct order would be -

Waiting for Sunrise (2013)

Love is Blind (2018)

Gabriel’s Moon (2021)

The Predicament (2023)

Trio (2022)

Boyd seems to shape the real world narrative throughout the bleakest war years, post-war reckoning and especially the cold-war, all well before we were around to understand the geo-political picture.

I don’t think I have read Trio or Waiting for Sunrise; I will have to run off and check; either way, there is always more to discover with William Boyd and this Gabrielle Dax character who weaves his way through recognisable world events; reminding me of Woody Allen’s Zelig or even Forest Gump in a strange sort of way, observing on the periphery and sometimes inadvertently contributing to better global outcomes.

Anyhow, I have rambled on for too long on a William Boyd tangent without building any tension or resolving the central issue; ignoring the whole point of the post today; and that point being that any good story has to have a structure to be a success.

Thanks to Fiona and William Boyd in equal measure; my short story writing project is re-born; there will be resolution for Victoria, Alfred and Ingrid in the Vongelpark, mark my words.

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Firstly let’s talk about the that outing two weeks ago.

Wednesday the 28th of January, yes it was still raining then and I was wondering round a field, film camera in hand, shooting a variety of mundane every day sights on a foggy misty morning.

I wrote about the experience in roll with it #1 and now we have the images to match.

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Before my digital camera battery ran out for the first time in five years while outside actually photographing with it (no doubt the irony of this project not lost on it), I took the opportunity to capture exactly the same images with both 28 mm lenses via two very different mediums; composing the image and using the Leica exposure settings to capture at 400 ISO, I would then switch to the manual film camera and shoot a couple of similar if not exact duplicate images onto Ilford HP5 with the same exposure in an attempt to investigate the real difference between film and digital.

This was a very misty day, the very air surrounding me in the cold wet field fell onto the film seemingly to make that point; the simple lines of fencepost and wire receding into the mist immediately illustrated the power of film to me.

The texture of the water droplets and imperfectness of contrast and grain awoke the realisation that any comparison was really quite redundant and unnecessary; yes the Q2 delivers incredibly complex digital images of outstanding detail; but film was what I had been missing for 30 years

Behold the beauty and grainy texture of film versus the clarity and clinical execution of digital.

The Pine needles provided me an excellence opportunity to give context and clarity to the emptiness of the mist hanging over the field I walk around most days of my life; it’s always there in the background, today and everyday.

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Can you see the difference; what does it matter?

Proceeding around the field, numerous opportunities arose as film enabled me to use my signature style which I guess rather predictably is to frame the image in your mind and isolate some obscure object in the stark foreground with as narrow a depth of field that is available; pine needles and signposts take note; the blurred distant background seems to be my natural default and there is no point changing now; although working with film I can see useable results from this process will be be far more hit and miss; more valuable somehow, than their casual digital counterparts.

And it’s not a bad thing; because less is more.

Moving away from the henge to the lanes that disappear into tunnels of gloom; freshly cut hedgerows, recently savaged by fiercely rotating tractor mounted blades; the damp wood of the now isolated footpath sign standing out against the grey dank wet sky.

Just accessing the everyday features of my daily walk via black-and-white film has taken me back to the images my brain sees from around Knaresborough, York and other locations from the 80’s; I will be revisiting many to try and re-capture those images as part of a film project this year, once the weather improves.

Buoyed with success, I loaded up my second roll of HP5 and headed to London to see family & friends to try a second style; I was to find how fickle film is!

Appreciating the time required to frame and expose a portrait is a skill I will have to work on.

Despite enthusiastic support and willing subjects, a 35mm hand held camera with no flash and relatively slow film proved disastrous for most indoors situations; the likes of which the Q2 eats for breakfast; lesson learnt, use the right tool for the job, you can’t change ISO mid roll on a 35mm film camera!

As a result over half of my interior shots were probably too underexposed to be salvageable; in other news, I will import these high resolution scans into Lightroom and attempt to manipulate them as I would normally with any digital image; could be interesting to see what can be created, but in terms of pure aesthetics and film images straight out of the can (which is what I have done for all my film work to date), I failed badly here.

Safely returning to Yorkshire with a few images left to use up the second roll, I tramped the damp streets of Ripon to facilitate a quick processing turnaround from the lab to get this post out on time; the safer urban environment of characterful shops, people and daylight provided a more sensible backdrop to practice my lost skills.

I will return to Appleton‘s butchers shop; the texture and contrast of its window’s treasure will take some time to process; they deserve in investment in colour film at a later date!

I rounded off the week by attending an excellent film workshop with Dan Wheeler at Take it Easy Lab in Leeds on Monday night; learning something I wish I had known a very long time ago…

Each f stop move either way increasing or decreasing exposure with shutter speed, aperture or ISO, halves or doubles the amount of light coming in.

It’s probably 40+ years of holding a camera and I never clocked that; I thought clicking those dials was of course an increment of light, up and down yes, but not halves or doubles!

As I tend to favour a wide open shot to focus on the foreground with a narrow depth of field, this works well in a digital environment where ISO can be changed for each image according to available light.

I am learning; and that explains my success rate to date.

Work to do.

With one role of HP5 still in the fridge I have decided to venture towards the world of colour; armed with both a Kodak Gold 200 and extremely expensive Kodak Porter 800, I will set out in the coming weeks to metaphorically bring colour to the end of these damp dark days.

Let’s hope we can continue to roll with it and experiment with film together on this journey dear readers!

The process is frustrating, costly and time consuming in equal measure; I’m hoping it will also continue to be hugely rewarding!

You can buy a film camera for less than £5 on eBay

You can get a film processed for £5 at Take it Easy Lab

You can do anything

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So many things going around in my head, I had to get up early and write a list, and I mean early - 4.55 a.m. to be precise.

In fact it was the night before, I have lost a day, must have been Monday night, because now it’s Wednesday and bed time again; this time I won’t have the same issue because I have compartmentalised all those thoughts, scrawled them down in various notebooks, coloured coded them, highlighted them, ticked them off, expanded upon the, forgotten them, laughed at them.

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Work, specifically dogfood but not exclusively, also 35mm film, savoury snacks, what food to eat, what food not to eat, food I had eaten, the idea of manual labour, wardrobe categorisation, designing and building a house after moving out of the village; wishing I had been an architect, the list is endless.

Creep downstairs, fire up the machine, get out the notebooks, numerous double espresso coffees before the relief of the alarm I should have been asleep for at 6.15 a.m.

Even after retiring early to bed, is it the certain knowledge of an early call that persuades us sleep won’t be coming any time soon, despite our best efforts?

The day was a wreck.

Exhaustion set in before even getting to the workplace, going through the motions, ticking some things off, missing mostly in the margins, grumbling and grunting through half open eyes, I couldn’t see the wood for the trees.

Powering through, the British way; work done and an unsteady drive home, weekly men’s yoga group was the rest that I craved; Tuesday night, 7.00 p.m. It’s not to be cancelled, however tired you feel; as always the class proved to be just what I needed, avoiding the regulation pint and chat afterwards, too tired to recount tales that can now wait for the weekend and cheerier moods.

Thoughts of meals out of the window, dropped back from yoga, still only eight o’clock but ready for bed, minesweeping the kitchen surfaces, too tired for anything.

That’s when I saw them.

Probably the highlight of the day.

Not meant for me but nobody was looking, who would know?

The light and curly cheese flavoured potato snack of champion architects, photographers, yogis and manual labouring lifestyle gurus.

The simplest of things.

And that is why they tasted so good.

You Can Do Anything

Goodnight.

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I have always liked to record an image, take a picture, tell a story; its called photography and for as long as I can remember, I’ve had a camera in my hand, probably five decades since that first Kodak instamatic…

Instant cameras, polaroids, plastic disposable cameras, my dad’s old camera, you name it, I had a go with it, up until getting my first proper camera as a teenager; there is a whole lifetime of albums, negatives, wrecked overexposed rolls of film, snapshots and attempts at being art-y.

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The history is for another post, the point here is that back in 2020 I thought returning to a fixed 28mm Leica Q2 camera as my one and only eye on the world would help me to tell beautiful stories without constantly worrying about photographic kit and my dwindling bank balance; the camera would go everywhere with me and coupled to a decent iPhone, every situation could be covered, catalogued and reported back on.

And it worked, thousands of images on my MacBook and in Lightroom folders, joining the tens of thousands from previous years, camera, lenses and assorted phones; right back to the first digital image around twenty years ago now.

But as I said at the start of the month (and year); 2026 isn’t about tech and complexity, apps and data; no, it’s about going back to basics, back to manual, taking control, using your imagination with less screens, more grey matter, more calibration, more experimental, more analogue.

So I bought a manual 35mm film camera.

The same one made between 1979-81, that I used to own around er…. 1981.

Of course that exact one was stolen from me while I was asleep at Athens airport in the early hours of an august day in the summer of 1987, so unless the chap I bought this one off on Vinted is the same guy, I guess it’s the same model but not exactly THE same one.

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Well today I loaded up a film and walked backwards out into the fog of the 1980’s; as an experience, I honestly don’t know where to start…

The feel of a film camera, the knowledge that inside it, a thin strip of something is storing your images; well thats pretty terrifying.

The near one kilo weight (only slightly more than the Q2) strangely weighing far more than it looks it should; a house-brick of glass and metal, ponderously swinging around the neck.

The focusing ring goes the other way to the Leica; its not an apple product, it’s not intuitive

How to load a film in?

Once it’s done, the excitement and utter dread as to how to wind it back in and get it back out of the camera (I had to watch a YouTube video before daring to open the camera back)

Striding out into a foggy wet field with film winder cocked, shutter release under the finger; so quick, so ready.

That first image captured; the sound, a reassuring clunk, there is no sound like it

The visceral wind on of the film, the feeling of the lever, the excitement of the next image and what is to come; be prepared.

The lightness of the focus, the coming together of converging lines on the focus screen as shapes become real objects sliding together to make an image; there must be dust and dirt in the camera body as the focus screens seem so speckled with bits and pieces.

Markedly darker than the digital viewfinder I am used to but also so pure and honest; I guess we will see what can and can’t be done to clean up some prints when I get this first roll of film processed and some negatives and possibly scans to look at.

Back to the act itself; being out for the morning with a forty plus year old manual film camera with a 28mm f2 lens.

The requirement to steady the weighty camera and lens; compose the image, think about exposure and depth of field required; working within the limitations of 400 ASA film and a fastest shutter speed of 1,000th of a second; it sound easy but it certainly wasn’t after a 30+ year holiday.

I found that actually concentrating on focusing, even though I normally have my digital camera on manual focus, was a big effort; I am used to moving around to make the content fit the window with a fixed lens, but adding exposure and all of it’s combinations to check before pressing the shutter, well, that’s something I now need to think about with the price of film and the limit of 24/36 exposures in the camera; the pressure mounts, but so does the excitement

Shooting my first roll of film has been so much more time consuming but also more enjoyable than what I thought was normal creative photography; this is thought requiring photography, as it used to be, the camera purely a lightbox recorder for the story in my head.

And I love it.

Noting the exposure, thinking about what I am looking at and occasionally, for the first few images at least, making a note of the detail so I can later hopefully compare similar digital images taken at the same spot

The covering lines of the hedgerow in the mist

The trees sweeping up into the grey sky at the side of the river Ure

The West Tanfield fishing society sign and the empty damp bench

The cobweb with dew and the fenced off henge.

All will be revealed.

I’m going to start with the basics, Eleanor bought me a gift voucher for those lovely people at Take it Easy film lab in Leeds; I’m enrolled in a workshop next month and I bought some film; more importantly, before I even clicked the shutter this week I popped there on Monday night for their monthly Leeds Photo Social; fantastic.

A room full of photographers, mainly significantly younger than me (and my kids); nobody talking gear, everybody sharing and caring about each other’s work; this is what it should be like, real validation, genuine interest and support; so many fantastic artists in the room, led by the excellent Daniel Wheeler, an inspiration to all as the Education and Community lead curating the chatter.

I will be back with developed fils and hopefully some prints to look at; I hope you will come with me.

Thanks for reading You Can Do Anything.

Roll with it #

This is my first roll of film for 30 years; I’m going to to keep with the roll with it # theme and with each roll/story I will be writing a new post as part of You Can Do Anything; I therefore apologise to many readers who are perhaps not interested in photography; it’s the journey and the story rather than the technical stuff and the gear; but I do understand if you roll your eyes and choose not to roll with the story when you see roll with it #17 as the next post on my substack.

All that I ask is that you enjoy and share my many other stories as the unconventional flock, rejoicing in all things You Can Do Anything.

Stavanger is somewhere I would like to be again; a nice place to find yourself on a Friday afternoon; I think if you haven’t already been, you would like it.

I’m not normally a travel blogger but thought we could do with the visual distraction this week, I hope you enjoy some images and a few less words than my normal fare, dear readers; the camera speaks more directly than I can, however much I love my pens…

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Six weeks ago, a week or so before Christmas, many weeks before Davos and all this nonsense, that’s where we were, courtesy of Logan Air and flight LM 504 from NCL to SVG; and it was good.

Let’s go back to Stavanger.

Who knew that less than an hour from Newcastle airport, you could be in Norway?

OK it’s quite a southern part of Norway and the climate is similar to here right now - but it’s still Norway and that is to be celebrated.

A quick bus ride from the airport to the town centre takes you past these three giant swords in the rock (Sverd I fjell) by the water of Hafrsfjord, a monument paying homage to the formation of the kingdom of Norway dating back to the year 872.

For me, just walking around under my own steam with a camera and notebook is all I want from a few days away in a city or region I have not been to before. There are many walking tours and guides such as this one in the Telegraph that point you towards certain obvious sighting spots, but to me, people watching and following my nose will win out over prearranged routes every time.

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The Norsk Oljemuseum would turn out to be one of the best days of any trip anywhere, and I have been to a LOT of museums

Stavanger is the oil capital of Norway and this is an incredible museum where I learned so much about the brave people who have worked in the oil and gas industry over decades in the most hostile of conditions in this northern corner of the world.

What a place, highly recommended, I never knew it existed, in the same way I didn’t realise that Viking, the local football team, had just won the Norwegian football league for the first time in 34 years; something that was repeatedly pointed out to me by the jovial locals at the Beverly Hills Fun Pub, who had I believe been celebrating pretty much for the fifteen days and nights since that comprehensive win over Vålerenga, that was, until I showed up to watch Leeds United in their bar and enjoy a beer or two with a ‘carve a slice’ half an elk on the bar amongst the debris.

Walking through the old town and following the street art and cobbled narrow streets from the canning factory to the maritime museum, I was thinking, what would it be like to live here?

Having been to Oslo and Bergen and even Trondheim previously, I found Stavanger unlike any of them in that it has a real honesty to it, a homely, industrial and not too touristic identity that was very much in tune with the best bits of of beloved gritty northern England.

Perhaps we should move here, it may be safer.

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Thanks for reading You Can do Anything - I do usually write about mental health and more thoughtful matters but I reckoned that this week, of all weeks, we needed to just go somewhere together and use some visual distraction techniques to take our mind of the shit that is going on in the world.

Norway is the perfect place for that, having been a few times I don’t think I have ever felt anything but admiration for its people and they habitat; have I ever seen any shouty stupid behaviour, or felt anything but at peace with the world when travelling around this beautiful country; no, of course not.

If only everyone could say that about where they live.

Just as an aside, one of my friends used to spend a lot of time in Stavanger and told me to search out the Beverly Hills Fun Pub; I don’t know what he got up to in there but this one’s for you Jon 🇳🇴

Until you find your dream…..as the song goes.

The sound of music is still ringing in my ears from New years Day, although gloriously into the year now, I can’t escape the sight of Christopher Plummer and those children in play clothes made from old curtains; brings a tear to the eye every time, I don’t know why but it’s impossible to watch without being overwhelmed, or is it just me?

Climbing every mountain

That’s what we are doing this year; armed with a notebook, a 35mm film camera and a decent pair of boots.

I’m 63 this weekend and going backwards is the way to go forward; ignore the shouty people on your screens, get analogue and go back to nature and basics; anything else can just do one.

Art galleries, library, museums and vintage camera shops in the city I grew up in.

That’s what lies ahead, keeping it very simple.

I wish you a fabulous weekend too

You can do anything

So much better than people, and nearly as good as dogs

Pens don’t let you down

They empower you

They give you permission to be yourself

Like the very best friends, they encourage honest conversation; they thrive on creativity and they offer endless opportunity to make things better

When has a pen ever let you down?

Think about it.

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OK, there will have been instances when you had a leaky pen, or when the colour wasn’t right and it messed up your artwork, or when the clip snapped off or you got ink smudges everywhere…

But these were not serious issues, in retrospect, more likely it wasn’t even the pens’ fault in these circumstances, it was you, as the pen operator who should have checked for leaks and done a trial run and handled the pen with more loving care.

Yes, really, the honest answer, is that your pens have never let you down, they have always turned up for you and they will continue to do so.

That much is for sure

Whatever happens, you know with your favourite pen, or pencil case in your pocket, you are prepared.

You can turn up and master any situation

Any meeting, any message, any notelet, any blank open page.

Any hijack or any life hack, creative challenge, technical problem, spreadsheet error, even a wardrobe malfunction

Whatever the issue, you pens will sort it for you

Because your pens are your friends

And friends get things done.

So reach out for them; they will always be there.

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There is a pen for everything and getting your pens together, looking through them - old and new, celebrating them and organising them, is one of life’s true joys.

Not to mention Notebooks and Pencil-cases

I just want to break away from pens being my friends at this stage and focus on their natural and essential bedfellows; namely the associated notebooks they besmirch plus the pencil cases they populate; essential components of the writer’s arsenal, without which our friendly pens would be distraught.

All pens need of course to be kept in pristine working order, categorised to ensure both ease of retrieval and operation; to do this we will need a small army of pencil cases.

Others will no doubt do things differently, but I like to simply have a pencil case for each of my notebooks that contains writing implements best suited to that particular book and the task in hand; be it travel, sketching, business or my daily journal.

That way, no pens or pencils will ever need to be transferred between cases and depending on the day ahead, the appropriate notebook and pencil case can be picked together and thrown into the rucksack before leaving the house/hotel/planet.

Sketchbook

My sketchbook is beautiful and so important to me, as such not a notebook at all, but a book for sketching in.

A fine gift from dear friends in 2024 as a thank you for being a best man, the sketch book holds great sentimental value as well as being a high quality art-book with sections of tracing paper and grid paper at the rear; a real technical book with an individual insignia that means so much.

Predominantly used on trips to record scenes or ideas for photography, the pages are randomly populated from Bruges to Banff; pencil, pen, some colours here and there, it will be a sad day when we run out of space in this book; plenty more destinations to come, that’s for sure.

This fine leather receptacle is reserved only for my limited pencil collection; which along with a couple of rubbers and two metal pencil sharpeners are tucked safely away in my first and most important of all six of my pencil cases; the second case being one of many cheap clear plastic ones containing the set of 12 fine drawing pens; it’s so easy to see what’s inside these cases, easily identifiable pens or pencils in the leather - that’s it!

I keep this book along with my pencils in my Fjallraven travel bag;

Find a clear blank open spread.

Sharpen pencil.

Title the work so location and date are clearly remembered for posterity.

Take pencils from leather pencil case sharpen

Choose implements.

Draw.

Look around you.

Draw and sketch some more….

Writing or sketching in my associated books with the pens I love is one of the great joys of life; I just felt I had to write about it this week because we all spend too much time looking at screens and not enough time actually being creative and considering what we are writing or creating;

I know I am quilty and I guess you will be too?

That’s why I’m focusing on basic analogue mechanicals this year; not being preachy but I would urge you to try it too for your own mental health…

Search out your pens

Find a notebook

Look at the pages filled out from before, remember those thoughts and words?

Add your own thoughts, close your eyes for a minute, then add some more.

You are writing, with a pen; you are creating.

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That brings me to my newest notebook.

A Road Less Traveled

This is a green lined notebook bought for me by Tom and Jess, my business partners.

They know I love to write things down because I’m old.

I’m not a digital native.

I need a daily notebook to keep a note of things….

But this book is special in that it’s not my workbook.

It’s not my sketchbook

It’s not my travel journal.

It’s my daily notebook; and I’m trying my very best to not just fill it up with lists of things to do in 2026…

That’s the big thing this year - NO lists

Let’s not just list things to do - pens and notebooks deserve better than that.

Lists are for phones and computers; to be added to and checked off, to be fed into apps and to be shared with others; there is no point writing loads of lists in a notebook just to have to then transpose them into a digital format.

I’m trying to be more creative with my journal this year and that means writing about things that are really important to me.

You can do the same…

And to do that, you are going to need pens; lots of pens.

But that’s OK

Because pens are your friends.

Thanks for reading You Can Do Anything

Quite a bad burn as it turned out.

Yes it was hurting, but on the Greenland-Venezuela Richter scale, I felt the magnitude was pretty insignificant; a logarithmic recording and classification process dating back to the 1930’s was telling me that while my thumb was bloody well killing me on a local (ML) level, with the aid of Doctor Chat GBT, a Volvo car boot first aid kit, two helpful cocker spaniels and a loving partner of 35+ years, the pain was manageable and more importantly, only indicated at a serious level within certain frequency and distance ranges that could be controlled by alcohol and watching rubbish tv for a further few days.

How wrong I was.

Clearly I’m no scientist, and not a doctor in the true sense of the word.

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Everyone knows that the best part of a 14.5% bottle of Masi Costasera Amarone Classico coupled with festive leftovers and Tom Hanks piloting a badly damaged Lunar Module Apollo 13 back into the earth’s atmosphere is a combination that spells danger; what else would you be doing on a normal school night?

Gene Kranz, the legendary NASA Flight Director known for his calm leadership and iconic vests summed it up for me around 11pm; ” I don’t care what anything was designed to do, I care about what it can do”

And that’s when I looked at my badly bandaged thumb and thought; rather like the various ventilation and fuel systems in that damaged spaceship; It can’t too much right now Gene.

Things are better now, the boys landed safely, the thumb has had a week to think about things, and so have I.

It’s Tuesday 6th January 2026, even Scotland is back at work.

I hope that for you, everything is back to normal from a timetable perspective and that you are not facing the armageddon of January that I possibly over-hyped last week; I just wanted to check in with you dear readers…

I for one am back at the office, the wine has been put beyond use and all the notebooks are lined up and being filled/coloured in accordingly, despite being one handed, pens are your friends at this time of year (and that’s my next post)

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The left thumb is a metaphor for all of us, a minor irritation that focuses the mind on local matters and is measured very much on a self-centred dashboard similar to those early magnitude scales that were referred to as ML, with the L standing for local; what was to eventually become known as the Richter magnitude.

Clearly when one looks beyond the thumb, there is a lot going on that requires a far more balanced view of the world; a global view at scale to give context; hence some further study from public sources can be applied

Moment is a physical quantity proportional to the slip on the fault multiplied by the area of the fault surface that slips; it is related to the total energy released in the earthquake.

Are we all at a moment now?

It’s just a question; I don’t have the answers.

But as well as being inspired by the Apollo 13 crew, learning about earthquakes and moment magnitude this week has helped me realise that my badly bandaged thumb is the least of my worries for 2026.

We should all take a moment to stop and look further afield, much further, even out into space if that helps with the magnificent moons we have being having…

Yes you can do anything, but there is a whole world out there that can change in a moment, and the truth is, none of us can do much about it.

The magnitude of that cannot be underestimated.

Thanks for reading

You Can Do Anything.

Next Week: Pens are your friends

They are the unsung heroes that deserve more face-time; as anybody with six pencil cases will tell you

Thanks for reading You Can Do Anything! Please join the unconventional flock and subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

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How are you feeling right now?

Good I hope; there is a lot to be thankful for.

The crisp cool morning of a new day is the best time; when that day starts a whole new year, then that is truly special; I’m going to make the most of this first hour or so of 2026.

I’m sitting quietly with a coffee emptying my head of thoughts as they spill onto the keyboard; the cats have got some food, the dogs are still asleep, as is Kay; the village is in darkness, some Christmas lights flickering to life as they beg not to be ripped down, the chilly air hanging in the square outside as New Year’s Day beckons and splutters to kick start another year of our lives here on planet earth.

What lies ahead?

How do you feel about it this morning?

No doubt like me, you’ve been subjected to so many ‘2025 wrapped’ summary posts gloating at you in the last 48 hours that you feel somewhat of an underachiever as you wake today; none of it.

You don’t need to tell everyone, just tell yourself.

Gather those fantastic memories and images in your mind and enjoy them with yourself, cherish them, repeat them, re-live them, memorise them; they are yours to keep and yours alone.

This is a good time to look around and think about what really matters; the tree and all those holiday trappings will be put away soon and the frozen wasteland of the bleak January will fill your field of vision.

My dad and Kay’s mum both died in January and it’s also always my birthday month and one where money is tight and health issues often drag me down; on the face of it, a recurring nightmare backdrop that consistently provides a challenging environment to start any year; and 2026 will be no different.

Alas, I’m not a Dickensian character, it’s not snowing yet and Mr Scrooge isn’t calling in his lending and time soon; no need to reach for that tiny violin, I’m perfectly aware how lucky I am as I sit here with my third espresso and Hank the cat proof-reading the first scribbles of the year.

I hope you feel lucky too.

Health is all that matters, mental and physical; I’m going back to basics this year and keeping things very simple; starting with a continued programme of looking after myself, inside and out.

That’s why I’m typing away at 7.15am on the first day of the year.

That’s why I have an army of new notebooks for work and for pleasure; for sketching and for travelling notes.

That's why I have bought a film camera and have not turned my phone on yet.

And that’s why we had a lovely evening with dear friends last night but put myself to bed before Big Ben, having only had a couple of drinks.

Because I need to be constantly reminded to look after myself better; the default position is not always the best one; I’m 63 in a couple of week and should remember that (I’m not 23) I need to spend more time feeling the way I do right now; full of anticipation for doing as much as I can.

I did’t mean to lecture, the hour is up, the year has started and the first substack posting of the year has truly helped me to gather and share some thoughts with you dear readers as my authentic, somewhat imperfect, Chris Broadbent 2.0 self.

Have a fantastic day.

I really do mean that.

I wish you all the best for 2026; I hope you can truly maximise the opportunities that life throws at you and stay happy and healthy for the upcoming 365 days.

Let’s be sat here with Hank, inwardly smirking and reflecting back on the 1st of January 2027 eh?

Don’t put it off, You Can Do Anything

How do you buy any album twice, by mistake? It’s not my place to question it, more just to enjoy - so thanks Dave; it was just one of those things.

Random act of kindness inspires some writing; a win-win situation.

And not just any old album; a double album, a brand new album, a pristine, expensive heavyweight album; a real crooning-ton singalong of a double album if you don’t mind.

Harry, why can’t you behave?

Harry Connick, JR. to give him the correct title from the sleeve of TRUE LOVE: A CELEBRATION OF COLE PORTER; (somewhat aggressively titled in my humble opinion); the capitalisation of crooning does however ask quite a number of questions that I will go on to discuss in this short piece, using the beautifully crafted song titles of Mr Porter to punctuate a poorly written passage of empty headed nonsense.

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A good use of your time?

I hope you would agree yes, if only for the incoming ten minutes or so; because while I am writing prose, then anything goes.

It was just one of those things. No it’s not a trip to the moon, more like a return to the desk, keyboard and mouse; in itself no small event, I don’t quite know why I’ve not been here since finishing a jigsaw on a sunny Bank Holiday at the end of August, but having moved forward to a Christmas 500 piece market scene this morning, I am glad that I am.

Let’s make sure together that it doesn’t take till Easter to put down the puzzle and metaphorically pick up the mouse.

What would Cole Porter make of it?

Do you mind if I make love to you, well yes I do actually.

If you let me, I’ll endeavour to persuade you….this is absolute gold; perhaps we should think more like dear old Cole; although he was born in 1891 and died over sixty years ago, I could listen to his songs all day, every day, for a very long time.

What have you been up to; let me know on my new chat forum?

Because I have missed our exchanges; it’s me that can’t behave, not you - you have probably been extremely well behaved for many weeks throughout the summer and autumn months, unlike many public figures, you have been keeping to the promises you gave and once more have shown up for me today, no questions asked.

So let’s talk about you, have you turned that new leaf over, did you even need to?

The phwah phwah phwah of the coned-trumpet is telling me you have great news to share, achievements, travels, learnings and loves have signposted your journey through September and October, Harry says so, am I right?

Let’s begin the beguine, let’s be more Malmö, let’s be a 1920’s Cole Porter swinging through luxurious Paris and concentrate on you; a sentiment we all benefit from; a simple focus on what matters; you, all of you; I’d love to gain complete control of you.

Harry is singing his heart out, Mr Porter is exquisitely crafting those words in his mouth and they are filling my office/study, blasting out of my battered Bowers & Wilkins CM1’s; reverberating to the piano, despite their crushed tweeter cones.

So much to go at, the most prolific of writers, a unique advert for the Yale Glee Club, knocking off over three hundred songs before getting anywhere near Paris, it seems a shame to have not used the 4th side of vinyl here with only thirteen love songs representing less than 5% of his Yale output alone.

I’m not being funny but why would you not use the 4th side of a second disc, it costs nothing to press some more songs surely, I can honestly say it’s the only album in my entire collection that has a blank side on a disc of vinyl; that has to be statistically significant, is it Just one of those things?

Ah well, Anything goes. Back to the script; Why can’t you behave? Written in 1948 for the musical ‘Kiss me Kate” and subsequently performed by Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby amongst many others, this tune is more relevant in 2025 than perhaps any other Cole Porter classic; perhaps the reason I have not written for a while (unlike Mr Porter) is the feeling of lack of importance or relevance in a world where every day brings new depths of nonsense to be plummeted into; the news seemingly keeping on giving more reasons to not write, to clam up; to hide under a rock.

What of any significance could we be talking about to be of interest to anyone, when surrounded entirely by angry voices of so many unsound minds?

I’m going to write anyhow.

Any contribution is valid, there is no them and us, only us.

Because I love Paris and In the still of the night I will still be waking and overthinking the events of the day before and the day to come; because that is what I have always done, under an honest moon shining above, you’d be so nice to come home to.

You’re sensational, that’s all. Mr Cole; how did you write so beautifully, so effortlessly, while leading such a seemingly painful life?

You do something to me, it’s true love, I give to you and you give to me; transactional, it will always be; and I thank you eternally for that.

You can do anything.

Thanks Dave, thanks Harry and of course most of all, thanks Cole.

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No AI powered writing tools in sight, no distraction, no social media, no work-work, just Harry Connick JR and I singsonging along to a celebration of Cole Porter.

It was just one of those things.

In the still of the night

As we loved Paris in the spring-time

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The anticipation was killing me.

Fast forward 12 hours and the birds have woken me, the sun is already coming over the fence and I sit this time with a second double espresso on the same wrought iron garden seat, the backdrop bathed in morning light, in front of me, partly completed on its black felt board, five hundred scattered pieces of The Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh; not the oil on canvas masterpiece; but the the incredibly hard jigsaw puzzle that is my Bank Holiday project.

As I look out across the dog-pee brown stained lawn, I remember this puzzle was a thoughtful gift from Eleanor and Nick to commemorate a distant mini-cruise to Amsterdam; I grin to myself at the joy that trip indeed brought all those months ago, where does the time go?

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The dappled blue white and yellow pieces stretch out across the board; it seems impossible it will ever come together, the easier parts being the buildings and prominent cypress tree with the rolling countryside; completed before the third and final espresso; however, the many stars in that vibrant swirling sky, well they will take me all afternoon - in fact I anticipate being back on the gin before this all comes together; there was a reason I hadn’t started this until the August Bank Holiday - the six months of elapsed puzzle time reminded me, it was bloody impossible.

As so often with difficult assignments, the severity of the task necessitates a change of pace as the mind wanders to more manageable bite-sized chunks, looking anywhere other than at the remaining 200 or so pieces in front of me, my focus is drawn to what remains of the freshly mowed lawn and the tired pots and hanging baskets of coloured flowers on the patio and across the stream in the distance; like all of us, the garden is exhausted after the long hot summer, we stopped loving this warm weather quite a while ago, the hosepipe ban providing a valid North Yorkshire excuse to finally sit back with a drink and let things go.

Not that I have an excuse, things should be pristine given that we still have a gardener who pops around every couple of weeks during the summer months to cut the grass and tidy things up; the problem is, myself being a largely available and sociable type (as I find myself on a sunny Friday morning), any gardening is frequently relegated to a side show as drinking coffee and shooting the breeze of world affairs take centre stage.

I could actually be paying for some sort of alternative therapy here, while getting in some steps and cutting the lawn myself, the desired outcome is however, reached in harmony; and that is all that matters.

My mind drifts back to last Friday and a short history of the world from the gardener.

I was wondering how after forty minutes, an innocent conversation about coffee had escalated into a 20th century industrial strategy lecture; something about pivoting from Panzer tanks and U-boats to cup-to-bean coffee machines and other household appliances, leaving me looking rather suspiciously at the water-tanked shiny monument sat on my worktop that was to blame for this whole episode.

I digress.

Vincent awaits me.

Back in the real world, the sun is still shining and we are a long way from the Starry Night that lays ahead; coffee has switched to mid-day sun and sparkling water; there are still many pieces to assemble in the correct formation, the bank holiday Monday quietly opens its arms to us and decisions around DIY, barbecues, retail therapy and sporting activities need to be made.

Or perhaps they do not.

It is perfectly acceptable to do nothing.

You don’t need to learn world history, you don’t need to impress the neighbours, you don’t even need to impress yourself; you can finish the jigsaw, you can quietly enjoy your book, you can look out across the garden and sip your drink, you can do something, or you can indeed do nothing.

You can do anything.

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postscript;

I do hope you can enjoy your own Bank Holiday Monday (unless you are in Scotland or somewhere else where it is not a holiday, apologies) and I hope to see you here again soon; I have been away from writing for a few weeks and forgotten how exciting it is to still be crashing around on a Friday afternoon trying to hit that self inflicted deadline - perhaps I will get back into a weekly flow….

Next Week: who knows?

I have learnt that pointing to the next thing can almost cause more problems than the thing itself; let’s just see what comes along eh?

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