Fearing the Known Unknowns.

Life's sent me into a bit of a mad panic over the past few days.

I don't know how to create any stability in the current circumstances without the small income I take from Mostly Comedy, and with the vast majority of the money I inherited after my dad died being piled back into buying my mum out of his house at a price that shows no concession for who she's dealing with. My work is on hold until the COVID-19 situation eases, and I'm putting a lot of energy into our podcast in the meantime in the hope of creating a financial stopgap for the club (except it's currently making a loss).

On top of this, I'm trying to process the events surrounding my dad's death and my mum's active decision to not fix them. Despite her frequent disrespect for personal boundaries and inability to discuss a different perspective, I always assumed ours was a protected relationship. But I was wrong. Her words during our final conversation when I suggested a path to repair the situation, "Well, I don't think we'll ever see each other again anyway", show the chasm between our personalities. The blunt things she says with ease as you attempt to negotiate only illustrate how much she takes getting her way for granted. Consequently, she's the only person in my inner circle who could ever let things escalate to a total break in contact without even knowing how or why it happened and how easily we could have avoided it. Because she can never offer a solution, only a complaint.

So now I'm left in a situation where I have to keep myself safe and try to spend the next chapter of my life making my own family priority with two key figures ripped from it. I've learnt a lot, and I'm trying to rebuild without wasting further time on the emotional black hole I was confronted with; it's a toughie and no mistake.

Shakerpuppetmaker.

Have Parker from Thunderbirds and Noel Gallagher ever been seen in the same room? The resemblance is uncanny. So much so, I think something’s afoot. If my suspicions are correct, I've stumbled across a secret that will blow the music and puppet industry wide apart. In the mid-60s / mid-90s at least. It doesn’t take long to see the signposts. There’s the similarity between the name of Oasis’ first single, Supersonic, and Supermarianation, Gerry Anderson’s puppetry technique. The Gallagher brothers would often wear Parkas . Live Forever was clearly a reference to Captain Scarlet and Standing on the Shoulder of Giants to the size difference between Noel and his bandmates. The more you think about it, the more brazen it gets. It’s fishier than Area 51, Paul is Dead and JFK's assassination put together. The only glitch to the theory is scale . According to Wikipedia, Anderson’s marionettes were 1’10” and Gallagher is 5’8”. How does he maintain an illusion of avera...

'...I'm Gonna Look at You 'til My Eyes Go Blind."

Over the past week or two, I’ve been on a bit of a Sheryl Crow kick, largely thanks to rediscovering her cover of one of my most-liked Bob Dylan songs. She has one of my favourite female voices, yet despite this, I only own one CD and that’s just a single (her '97 release ‘Hard to Make a Stand’); on that basis, you can only imagine how much of her back catalogue I’d own if I hated her (it would fall into minus-figures). Dylan, conversely, takes up more of my collection than anyone else, save The Beatles and Paul McCartney’s solo work. He’s one of those artists who, when you get him, you really get him - and once I’d tuned into his style as a student, I'd time and again be blown away by his lyrics; he’ll have more jaw-dropping imagery in one track than other people fit in a whole career. These days, I mostly listen to music in the morning when getting ready, and more often than not, this will consist of a suggested YouTube playlist when I’m in the bath, r...

Stevenage: A (Tiny) River Runs Through it.

If ever a river was mis-sold, it’s the Roaring Meg in Stevenage. I just walked past it on my way to the retail park that has taken its name. They’re similarly uninspiring. The river is less of a roar and more of a dribble; cystitis sufferers produce greater flow. The retail park is soulless. What was once a thriving enterprise is nearly devoid of atmosphere, save an underlying essence of emptiness and despair. With a Toys R Us. When it was first built I was excited. Back then, the thought of a bowling alley, an ice rink, a Harvester and a Blockbuster Video within a small surface area was enticing. I celebrated many birthdays on site. There was an indoor cricket pitch there for a while where I once had a joint party with a friend. Why someone with an almost pathological fear of sport would agree to such a venture is beyond me, but I did it. Now, there’s very little at the Roaring Meg of note. The river would be a metaphor for the shopping ce...

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