In previous years, I’ve set resolutions. This year, someone suggested picking a single word – and the word I’ve chosen is ‘flow’. Having a single work makes more sense than a series of goals that inevitably includes ‘start running again’ like every other year.
Flow to me means removing the stagnation in my life. My impressions of 2025 were overwhelm and inertia. I was caught up in several unhelpful, repeating patterns. By increasing flow I can fix a number of issues – lack of exercise, distractions online, dissatisfaction with my writing. I can deal with the clutter in my life – virtual and physical.
I do need to get out of the house more. The pandemic was great for me, in that it removed the need to head to an office five days a week. But I also got out of practise with going out in general (not helped by giving up alcohol a few years back – I feel healthier for stopping, but I miss the energy of drunken nights out). Interestingly, this need to get out more was one of the themes that emerged in a tarot reading that I had a couple of days ago.
2026 is also the year that I turn 50. As a teenager, this seemed impossibly old but now I’m almost there. I think it’s important not to define or limit myself by my age, while making sure to draw the benefits from it. Sometimes, being this old excites me, other times it fills me with dread about all the wasted time in the past.
There are several things I still want to do in my life. I’d better hurry up and get on with them.
2025 was hard work, on the whole. One of the benefits of keeping my monthnotes is that I can look back at trends. It turns out that I’ve felt overworked and overwhelmed pretty much throughout the year – not just in the past few months, as I’d thought. That’s something I need to fix as soon as possible.
There were some great highlights to the year: seeing Guernica in Madrid and the Goldsworthy retrospective in Edinburgh. Rosy moved up to Hebden Bridge. Kitty and John got married. Sinners was an amazing movie. I did my first public tarot readings. I performed at a wonderful event in the Brighton Fringe and had my first reading in Hebden Bridge.
Work has gone well. I’m more than three years into this job and still love it. The pandemic has helped with this – permanent office attendance ground me down in all my other jobs. Having more energy has meant I’ve engaged more with my colleagues. My role is challenging but I’m excited about going into 2026.
I’ve struggled with my writing a little, with work stealing much of the energy that I need for that. I’ve wound up the weekly substack and I’m looking into how I can bring a new energy into whatever I produce. I also want to concentrate more on writing that involves real-world interactions.
I’m ending 2025 far more tired than I should feel. It was a good year, but I want next year to be better.
Despite everything, I read 78 books in 2025, about 20 more than last year. Not all of these were good – I still struggle with my primary school teaching about how you should always finish a book once you’ve started. Still, there were a lot of great books to choose from for my top ten this year. As usual, these are ordered alphabetically.
Max S Bennett’s A Brief History of Intelligence was a gift and I would not have read it otherwise – I grew bored of pop-science after uni. But this is one of those rare books that changes the way you look at the world forever. Bennett uses the latest neuroscience to show how intelligence has evolved on earth, and how human brains contain the remnants of simpler systems; and, in passing, the reason for dreams and fiction are explained. Great stuff.
We had two books from John Higgs this year. My favourite was Exerminate! Regenerate! (blogged here), which had a little more space for exploring its subject. Writing about Doctor Who risks being fan service, but Higgs explored the nature of storytelling, as well as telling some great anecdotes about the show.
I originally heard about Miranda July’s All Foursvia Sara Crowley’s blog. It’s not a perfect novel – too didactic in places, and sometimes blind to the main character’s privilege – but it’s also a book that’s been read by a lot of people I know, something I’ve not encountered in a long while.
Another excellent horror novel was I Want To Go Home But I’m Already There by Róisín Lanigan. I think we expected more haunted houses from the housing crisis, but this does the job perfectly. The iniquities of renting a home are almost more unsettling than the ghosts in this debut novel. I’m hoping Lanigan’s next book is also horror.
There have been a number of good books on folk customs over the year, but Lally MacBeth’s The Lost Folk stood out. MacBeth has a wide definition of folk, including church kneelers and cake-making, and the book ends with a rousing call about the importance of inclusion in folk.
Joseph Matheny is justly famous for Ong’s Hat, but the conspiracy aspects often overwhelm the literary ones. Matheny’s Ong’s Hat Compleat talks about all aspects of the experiment, including the building of an early language model. The form of the book is also experimental, being released as a parallel text and audiobook that explore different parts of the experiment.
Alison Rumfitt’s Brainwyrms is a deeply troubling and problematic book. It’s very much extreme horror and therefore not for everyone. But Rumfitt is an excellent writer, and this is one of the best horror novels I’ve read. Her first novel, Tell Me I’m Worthless would also have been a perfect addition to this list. She is very much on the list of writers I’ll pre-order.
Ultra-Processed People by Chris van Tulleken (blogged here) is a polemic about modern food production and its dangers. van Tulleken’s writing is lurid and comes close to body horror at times.
The White Pube’s Poor Artists was picked up at Todmorden books. It was a well-written, provocative and empathic book about the struggles of artists within today’s society, as well as a polemic in favour of making art.
Careless People is a gossipy book about Sarah Wynn-Williams’ time working at Facebook. It’s also a worrying portrait of the flawed and unpleasant people who have been placed in charge of our world.
Every year, I write a post looking back on my writing over the past year. There are entries for 2024, 2023, and 2022. I was a little unexcited about doing one for 2025 as I’ve struggled with the flow of my writing this year – which I guess says something significant. Work has taken a lot of my energy and my writing finds it hard to compete.
It’s not been a bad year in terms of what I produced. I sent out a second horror advent calendar, had a poem in a poetry trail, and published a piece in Bryony Good’s In a Land zine. I also published a lot of stories that I was happy with:
But I’ve also felt frustrated. I’ve been questioning for a couple of years whether the writing is worth the effort I put into it. I love my job more than ever before and the writing takes up creative energy that could go into that. This was less of a problem when I had jobs I hated. The ideal answer is raise my writing game so it’s as satisfying as my job.
The interesting things about the stories that I listed above is that they were all written quickly, and most of them to theme. A lot of my being bogged down comes from trying to plan my writing rather than letting it emerge. So, 2026 is going to be very different. I’m going to prioritise having fun.
I stopped doing the weekly substack email as it had begun to feel like a chore. I’ve moved across to buttondown and will be sending some new things through that. But it will be an irregular thing, waiting for when I have something to share.
My big goal is to have more engagement between my writing and the physical world. I need to prioritise attending workshops and writing groups. I want to produce more physical objects and postal projects. I’d also love to do some collaborations – there are people I know who I’d love to work with, including SHIELDS, Francesca Cluney, Kitty Peels, The Indelicates, Lou Ice and DRPFD. Let’s see what the next year brings.
I also want to produce larger-scale work. I’ve spent 20 years obsessed with large texts composed of fragments. I want to do something with that idea.
The main reason was wanting to remove an attention sink, one less app that I might refresh to look for stimulation. While I love the concept of microblogging, and the existence of the fediverse, it was not working for me.
There were a few specific issues with Mastodon itself:
The protocol ties any content to the domain name it’s produced under. This means it is impossible to properly migrate posts to another account. I was not aware of this when I signed up, and it’s a fairly significant constraint.
The existence of an algorithmic ‘trending’ feed encouraged people to write content to appeal to an audience. I’d come to Mastodon to avoid that sort of karma-farming.
While I love microblogging, I hadn’t managed to build a large enough community. Looks like everyone went to Bluesky, and I’m not going near another VC-funded algorithmic system.
Rob Shearer gives a more detailed breakdown on some of the issues in his Mastodon Exit Interview.
I’m looking forward to getting back to blogging – and wordpress can now link to the fediverse as well.
Earlier this year I looked back at my old blog posts and I miss using it for more developed thoughts that I’d write on twitter/Bluesky/mastodon. Blogging and its RSS framework already provide most of what I actually want from the fediverse.
Last month’s notes are very late again, which shows how busy I’ve been with work. I’ll do this quickly rather than miss a month. I started November feeling burned out, which became a theme. I stripped down a lot of my plans for the month. I didn’t do NaNoGenMo, The Mycelium Parish News will now emerge in 2026, and I’ve stopped the weekly substack.
A brief flurry of intense woodland colour
The month included some fun outings. Work took me down to Shoreditch, where I ate a lot of excellent food. We had the Todmorden Book Festival which was fun, but is definitely in need of a fringe. I also went to Thought Bubble, where I caught up with an old friend from the Invisibles Cell and bought some interesting books. We also celebrated Practise Christmas, and it was great to spend time with old friends.
Look who I met at Thought Bubble!
I did less writing in December than any month in years. Balancing work and creative projects is proving more difficult than ever. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, as it forces me to be more careful about how I spend my free time. I chose to stop the Substack as the weekly rhythm had changed from being inspirational to being a drag. I was also fed up with Substack’s continual addition of growth hacks and social features. I’ve created a new mailing list on Buttondown, and I’m hoping to use that for more considered writing. Despite all the challenges, I produced and distributed a second Horror Advent Calendar.
Work stress stopped me from attending this month’s dystopian book group – a great shame, as I had a lot to say about Ling Ma’s Severance – not least that the sections about the immigrant experience were more interesting than the post-apocalyse. It was also weird to read a 2018 novel that gets the pandemic so right. I enjoyed the re-publication of qntm’s There is No Anti-Memetics Division and the new John Higgs, Lynchian. I bought Danielewski’s new book, but felt too intimidated by the 1200 pages to make a start. Saltwash was strange and mysterious. I also picked up some interesting things from Thought Bubble.
I managed to see several movies. Souleymane’s Story was tense and empathic. Del Toro’s Frankenstein felt like a tediously traditional adaptation. Also disappointing was The Commuter, which was like a boring version of Bullet Train. The Springsteen biopic was probably the most annoying film I’ve seen this year, entirely pointless. Zero Dark Thirty was another excellent Kathryn Bigelow movies which was also incredibly problematic. Come See Me in the Good Light was thought-provoking, but fell back on too many documentary cliches. Best screening of the month was Still Out, a response to the KLF’s Chill Out record, which was an intimate and enjoyable event.
November (and December, so far) have been tough months. I think it feels this way every year. A mix of the long run from September to Christmas, as well as the nights drawing in and the days getting colder. This might be something I should prepare for in the future.
I never get close enough to the deer for a good photograph
While I’m still not exercising regularly, being more careful about food meant that I dropped just under a pound.
I read Skullpocket by Nathan Ballingrud years ago, and it took me ages to find it once more on Google. An excellent story.
On the way to pick up Thai food one evening, I passed an astronomer with a telescope outside there house, who pointed out Saturn to me.
On the 12th I dream about talking to a record executive that pylons were going to be huge in 2026, and that this was a bandwagon that he should be preparing for.
I recently joined the Todmorden Dystopian Book Club. The second book I read with them was Nuclear War: A Scenario, which I previously read last year. My re-read finished a few days before I watched the new Kathryn Bigelow movie A House Made of Dynamite – probably the most stressful film I’ve ever seen – and I’m back to having nightmares about nuclear war.
The value of nuclear weapons lies in deterrence. The problem comes if this deterrence fails. Most of the crisis plans are based upon clear communications and slow escalation, allowing a situation to diffuse. In Jacobsen’s book and Bigelow’s film, a ‘bolt-from-the-blue’ launch forces decisions about retaliation to be made in a very short period of time.
It takes about 20 minutes for a land-launched ICBM to travel from North Korea to the continental United States. Retaliations could take place before this landed, with the deaths of “a half billion people in the war’s opening salvo alone”. Up to 90% of the world’s population could die in the months following, if calculations about nuclear winter are correct.
These weapons do not kill just the people fighting the war – they kill children, civilians, people who don’t care about international tensions. Clouds of fallout don’t respect international borders – cold war plans for war with Russia involved the deaths of up to 300 million Chinese people. A war with the North Korean dictatorship would kill all tens of millions of North Korean civilians – most of them innocent people oppressed by the regime.
In his memoirs, Reagan wrote: “Six minutes to decide how to respond to a blip on a radar scope and decide whether to release Armageddon! How could anyone apply reason at a time like that?” A House Made of Dynamite sums up how much more difficult things are with nuclear proliferation – retaliation is planned, but it’s not obvious who launched the weapon, North Korea, Russia or China. But the doctrine of deterrence demands a response before the missile lands.
These weapons are almost unthinkably powerful. We don’t engage with the threat of them as the idea is overwhelming. In 1954, America was producing two new nuclear weapons every three days, each many times more powerful than the weapons used on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Many people are scared of climate change but I’ve stopped worrying about that since reading Jacobsen’s book – I think we will be lucky to last that long.
Jacobsen considers other horrors beyond the nuclear explosions. EMP weapons could destroy the American power grid, killing 90% of Americans. Russia’s ‘dead hand’ automated retaliation system used seismic monitoring to automatically launch missiles. Project Sunshine studied the increase in radiation in children’s teeth from nuclear testing. There’s ‘the Devil’s scenario’ of a nuclear strike on a nuclear power plant, causing a meltdown. Jacobsen takes a couple of pages to describe the death of Louis Slotin from radiation poisoning. The same horrific experience would be faced by millions in a nuclear war.
I find myself praying for a small incident, something that is enough to shock us away from this path. We’re trapped in a paradox, with no easy way to de-escalate. Trillions of dollars are spent on nuclear weapons and preventions, which we could be spending on better things.
Jacobsen’s book ends with a warning, that in the event of a war, it would seem obvious that we should have done something; “…this didn’t have to happen”.
After spinning so many plates last month, October had several being dropped. November looks like being a little calmer, which is a relief, but I’m longing for my Christmas break already. Among the month’s highlights were the Brighton launch of Rosy’s book I Love…, where I performed tarot readings, and the Hebden Bridge launch, where I was the support act.
It’s been a struggle to keep the writing on track against an unrelenting tide of work. I’ve had a few deadlines to chase, including the Advent Calendar and the Parish News. Once those are out the way, I’m going to change my approach to writing to feature fewer deadlines.
Me and Rosie at the station, waiting for Rosy
It’s been another month of minimal exercise, helped a little by Rosie the Puppy staying. I managed to keep my weight under control, ending October at exactly the same weight that I started it. Realistically, I won’t begin any new routines around exercise until some time in December, so for now it’s mostly damage limitation.
My first sea swim of the year
I read seven books, including a couple of re-reads. I remembered Terry Pratchett’s Reaper Man fondly; while the good bits remained excellent, much of the book’s humour was tiresome. I also re-read Code is Just and Annie Jacobsen’s Nuclear War, the latter a dystopian book group pick. Brainwyms was a horrific and shocking novel, at the very edge of what I think is acceptable – sometimes over that. I loved the White Pube book, Poor Artists, which described the challenges facing artists today, but ended on a hopeful note.
At the cinema, One Battle After Another didn’t really work for me. The Smashing Machine felt underwhelming, despite some great performances. Far more fun was Japanese time-travel comedy Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes. House of Dynamite was unbearably tense. I caught up with Severance but this was perhaps the wrong pick for the first full week of office work since the pandemic. I also saw Dreaming of You: The Making of The Coral, an inspiring documentary about creativity. .
We went to the takeaway after the launch and this is what Madi ordered
As part of Rosy’s Brighton book launch, I read tarot cards. It was a fun, challenging and draining activity, but I’m glad I did it. I’ve been struggling to learn tarot cards for 30 years, so setting a deadline worked well. It turns out reading tarot in a club is an intense experience, and the cards were often mischievous.
At the start of October, I spoke at the Leeds AWS group which was fun, but I wasn’t entirely happy with my preparation. Otherwise, work continued at a fast pace with too many meetings. I’ve not written any code in a while.
The only St George’s Cross I saw in Brighton. It doesn’t seem a respectful way to treat a flag.
I’ve taken Mastodon, LinkedIn, and RSS off my phone to see whether that gives me more space to think. I’m considering uninstalling Whatsapp: I loathe everything Meta is doing to our world, but the network effects make leaving that network difficult.
Andy Goldsworthy is one of my favourite artists, and I was determined to see his retrospective in Edinburgh. I ended up doing this as a day trip which was crazy, but I’m glad I did.
I have a good dentist, but even a minor check-up leaves me feeling shaky and exhausted. I guess I’ll always be that way.
The saying is, if you want something done, ask a busy person. And I have been so very busy. It seems as if I work better when there’s little margin for error. I’ve been making time to rest, wasting hours when I need to, and I feel better than usual for it. But most of the time I’ve been working towards a series of deadlines.
I finally saw Guernica
But I’ve not compromised on the rest of my life. I had a lovely visit from my friend Kate Frances. At the end of the month I spent a weekend in Madrid where Rosy and I visited my friend David. The highlight of the trip was visiting the Museo Reina Sofia, where I finally saw Guernica. That’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.
Potential new shrine appears in Hebden Bridge
Just before I set off for Madrid, the copies of Rosy’s new book I Love… arrived at the house. I took a copy when I met her in Spain. I’ve not had as much time to sit with the book as I’d have liked, but the poems I’ve read are beautiful and moving.
Work has been intense, but fun. I finished my assignment with one team, and moved to another within my current client. I was also involved in setting up a series of day-long assessment meetings. On top of everything else, I agreed to give a talk in October, which was a little more work than I needed. I failed to write any weeknotes all month, but I can pick those up when life is calmer.
These are gruesome – bear heads with spikes rammed through them at Starbucks
I attended both sessions for my writing group this month. The day clashes with my 5-hour commute, but I am determined to get back to it. I wrote a story I liked, Flagalanche, and had to write a poem for another session. By the month’s end I was into the final revisions on the advent calendar, looking for errors (very glad I caught the ‘stationary shop’). I’ve a lot of writing deadlines on that I’ve been avoiding with occasional work on Swedish Pizza, which is taking on a sort of shape.
These woods are my favourite daily walk
I’m thinking of ending my weekly email commitment on substack and moving to something irregular. Sending out these emails has been good practise, but I want space to write longer things. Ideally, these longer works will be made up from fragments, some of which will be sent as the irregular emails.
Richard Serra’s Equal-Parallel/Guernica-Bengasi, a 38-tonne artwork, the original of which was somehow lost by the Reina Sofia Museum
I put on 2 pounds in September, which has me tickling my maximum weight (previously reached in early 2024). I’m now cutting out the comfort food and stress eating. I will need to do more exercise. While going to the gym was effective, fitting it around my schedule was too stressful. I should move back to the Fitbit, but my device is no longer keeping a charge properly, so I’ll need a replacement.
This room was the only one where the invigilators were not edgy, and someone used the artwork to lean on.
I’ve been quite distractible so finished only five books. Nona the Ninth was another good Tamsyn Muir book that, once again, I found hard to follow. I re-read Tender is the Flesh for the Todmorden dystopian book group and still can’t believe how hard it goes. I finished reading The Immortal Hulk omnibus – an interesting spin on the character, turning the Hulk into a horror story. TheAuthority omnibus was a mixed bag. It’s like Warren Ellis knew the concept had 12 classic issues in it and that’s why he stopped. Seeing Mark Millar replace the wit with homophobia is depressing.
I saw several movies, mostly at the cinema. Darren Aronofsky’s Caught Stealingwould have been better if it hadn’t fridged a character. The Long Walk was good, but didn’t have the scale to be great. The Ceremony was a haunting movie set in Bradford and deserves wider exposure. The Hebden Bridge Picturehouse put on a showing of Babe, a movie I’d never seen before. It was incredible. Eddington had a lot going on but didn’t do much with it. Naked Gun was funny, but not as funny as I’d hoped.
Part of my relaxation has been playing video games. I’ve now done most of The Last of Us 2 in chronological mode, along with the occasional bit of No Return mode. I did pick up Hollow Knight but I don’t seem to be getting that. When things calm down, I’ll probably watch a few tutorials and try again
This picture horrifies me, because I imagine the foot’s face being stomped with every step
World politics continued to be depressing. Alongside America’s slide into repression, we have the rise of the right in the UK. It’s particularly terrifying to see American billionaires who control media companies aligning themselves with Tommy Robinson. I am terrified by how disconnected people are from reality. On my flight back from Spain, I saw the phone of the man sat beside me, the appalling racism on his Facebook feed. People are being subjected to propaganda with no counter-arguments.
Shuggie, a new dog friend
September 24th was the first day when I left from and returned to the station in the dark. It was a longer day that usual but, even so, it’s a sign of the year’s end. I’m already looking forward to Christmas.
I tried to fit a little too much into September. Everything just about held together, but I dropped a few things at the start of October (writing the monthnotes being one of them). I also struggled with my sleep, and felt ill at times. It’s nice to know I can get everything done, but I’m not planning to be this busy again for a while.
I watched a few Best of the Internet compilations, and hurt my back from laughing so much.
The new NIN record, a soundtrack to Tron: Ares, turned out to be one of their best records in years.
Rosy and I have bought Nick Cave tickets for July next year.
John Searle’s death was announced at the end of September. I wrote my MA dissertation on his ‘debate’ with Derrida, one of the most mis-matched intellectual competitions in history.
My favourite herbal tea in the world is a Swedish one, made with peppermint, lemongrass and tulsi. I was very sad when it was discontinued, but Lou Ice found a the last few boxes in a remote supermarket
August was about balancing rest with being busy. The month started with a holiday in Wales – visiting some friends before spending three nights in a cabin with no screens (including no phone). I was a little anxious about being uncontactable, but I loved the calm. It was a restful and wholesome break – I made a couple of meals for my hosts and their resident artists, and enjoyed some peace and quiet. Otherwise, life has been busy. I’ve enjoyed the challenge of having too much to do (and I’m getting more done than usual) but I’m also aware that I’m close to capacity.
Summer in the valley has been lovely. We had several visitors to the house and I made a couple of trips. I visited Blackpool for my Aunt’s 85th, and it was good to catch up with family. I also went to my friend Toria’s wedding in Liverpool. I took the opportunity of that to join my friend Tommy’s Beatles bus tour, which was as great as I’d been promised.
Mushroom season
I did very little exercise in August. My weight drifted upwards, and I put back half of what I lost in July. It’s time to add some regular exercise back into the mix, and to take a little more control of my diet. I’m putting the fitbit back on for September, albeit at a much lower step goal.
This plastic at the edge of the river looked like the body in Twin Peaks
My writing is going well. Despite the pressures of work, I’ve continued the weekly substack. Rage and Dead Loss at the Newcastle Sausage Roll Eating Contest were both written for the Wednesday Writers group, although I failed to make the August sessions in person. When I travel to Leeds, I take an hour in Starbucks before starting work, which has generated some good ideas. Another batch of potential stories came from In A Land’s Rituals workshop. I also re-read the novella I wrote in April/May. I couldn’t remember the details beforehand. While it hasn’t worked, the good bits were excellent.
The Black Christ by Arthur Dooley, Toxteth
Thanks to my holiday, I read 14 books (although a couple were quite short). The Seep was an interesting queer utopia. Boff Whalley’s essay collection But: Stories of Disruption and Digression left me wishing there were more books like that. My re-read of Adrian Mole reached The Wilderness Years. Mole doesn’t seem to work as an adult protagonist rather than a confused teenager, but the book’s ending was moving. Lally MacBeth’s The Lost Folk was an inspiring book about the range of UK folk culture, and its importance. I’ve been making my way through Al Ewing’s The Immortal Hulk saga. Best book of the month was Alison Rumfitt’s Tell Me I’m Worthless, a shocking and transgressive trans horror novel set in Brighton.
It was a good month for movies. Bring Her Back was intense and gory, with some images I can’t get out of my head. Weapons didn’t work for me, but I appreciated what they attempted. Fantastic Four started strongly but tapered off to become just another Marvel movie. I rewatched L’il Peep documentary Everybody’s Everything and was as impressed as the first time; amazing to think what he achieved by 21, and such a loss. The Life of Chuck felt cinematic, but failed to stick with me. I signed up for Disney Plus to watch Alien: Earth and didn’t manage more than two episodes.
Liverpool Beatles Tour with Tommy Calderbank
I’m back to playing video games, although I seem to have dropped Death Stranding 2 completely. Instead, I’m playing The Last of Us Part 2, and its new chronological mode. Going back to the story after No Return mode has made things feel much easier. I’m close to finishing Day One.
Buried treasures from an abandoned school
The new Ethel Cain album came out and I love it. The songs have quickly become favourites, particularly the single Nettles. I haven’t had time to explore the Ethel Cain story’s universe, but I will when I find a decent fan guide. I’ve also been playing Taylor Swift’s 10-minute epic All Too Well. I visited Leeds with Lizi for the rave-nostalgia VR experience In Pursuit of Repetitive Beats. Some interesting moments but I found the VR aspects alienating.
k shield’s video work in the Rituals exhibition
The end of the company financial year makes work intense – the appraisal cycles ramp up while lots of people are on leave. I’ve taken on a large extra role but I don’t mind. I enjoy collaborating with my colleagues in the office, something I would have sneered about earlier in my career. I think one difference is that we work together as part of a huge business rather than enriching a specific founder. On top of work I’ve just about kept up with my weeknotes (35-34, 33-30) and wrote a short piece on the 25th anniversary of the Joel Test.
The awful political situation in England has become noticeable, even without reading the news. Tension from the right wing was reflected in seeing someone at a public event in St Annes walking around in a T-shirt for fascist band Skrewdriver, which included a slogan for ‘white power’. Travelling back from Liverpool, we found ourselves at the mercy of the train systems. The Manchester/Leeds line was broken and the train staff sent us via Preston, where we were then told to go home via Sheffield, a frankly deranged suggestion. It feels like everything is falling apart, and everyone just goes along with it. I think we’re doomed to Farage being our next Prime Minister – because he is the only major political leader who promises things improving again in my lifetime. He can’t even run his own party, his racist ideas are wrong – but I can see why people will vote for something more than parties that manage an ongoing collapse.
The end of the year brings a series of projects. As well as work commitments, I’m working on the advent calendar, Mycelium Parish News, and a performance about tarot reading. I carefully considered whether I wanted to do so much and decided to go for it. It will be a race to the end of the year. But I want to have a think at the turn of the year about whether to reprioritise my life.
Dubai Chocolate in the claw machine
I’ve complained a few times about being busy, but one positive outcome of that is that I am now focussing on goals rather than getting trapped in administrative tasks like inbox zero. I also had a dream after the holiday about my writing, and how the important thing is to go sentence-by-sentence rather than getting lost in the other aspects. Obvious, but then all the best advice is – you just need the right advice at the right time.
Leeds, boat bookshop
The Todmorden Folklore Centre continues to put on amazing events, the most recent one being Holly talking about feminism and conspiracy theory.
KFC have launched an alternate reality game. Back in 2001 I worked for an agency that had KFC as a client, and tried to pitch doing this. Our plan was fairly ragged, but it’s amusing to see this happening 24 years later.
On the train to Leeds this week someone was watching a landscape video with their phone in portrait mode and I didn’t know if I should say something to them.
Joe Hill wrote a lovely piece about the importance of ‘the set’, taking a little time to do nothing, away from the smartphone.
Moi Outside, one of my favourite coffee shops in Hebden Bridge, closed at the end of the month. Two more have opened up in its place.
I’ve become a huge fan of Leeds queer indie bookshop, The Bookish Type, mainly for its excellent horror selection.
In further signs of this country falling apart, people using phones without headphones on trains are getting more common. Fucking barbarians. I can just about drown out their noise with over-the-ear headphones.
I get up early for my commutes. This month I found myself showering while it was still dark outside. Knowing winter is coming feels melancholy.
