I hate the positive aphorisms that pepper Facebook. The photo lifted from google images of a sunset or smiling child or sunset/ smiling child and wrinkly but twinkly wise older person or a girl skipping through beautifully lit puddles etc. etc. etc... then a quote about being kind, or not letting the bastards grind you down. Anyway I am going to adapt one such tired motto for my blog writing - so I shall 'write like no one is reading' (which will probably be true actually), not 'dancing like no one is watching'. Now I am 40 I really do not worry so much about people watching - getting middle aged starts to make you invisible - which really should be treated like a super power not a tragedy.

Thinking about my musical roots while on the bus today. My parents were of course the earliest influence - they were both Folk music fans and Dad liked to listen to Leonard Cohen while he drank whisky and got morose. Apparently I used to dance around in my nappy to 'Morris On' a seventies album with a sort of supergroup of folk musicians/ singers, including John Thompson and Shirley Collins,

getting together add some rock sensibilities to a few traditional English folk songs - as used by Morris dancers.  My favourite track is Cuckoo's Nest

This blog is starting as a retrospective of my musical youth. I was inspired to create it today, while trudging home with my overstuffed shopping trolley listening to music.  I need a musical accompaniment for my solo shopping trips in order to retain my sanity.

I was listening to an album by Tobacco a weird and twisted album by a weird and probably twisted musician Tom Fec, that successfully transported me from the mundane reality of shopping at Tesco's. So while weaving between other unhappy consumers on a freezing February Sunday afternoon, I could smile to myself. I have a very singular soundtrack 'I am different', I have a secret inner world... at least that is what I can tell myself. And "whatever gets you through" is a sound philosophy - for boring repetitive tasks.

But I have been using books and music to "get me through" for as long as I can recall, when do I start to live rather than exist? When did my addiction to being transported "anywhere but here" start? Why is music so important to me, to others...?

This is the purpose of this blog to examine the origins of my various musical and literary obsessions, looking at the wider picture as I do so as, contrary to appearances I am not totally self obsessed. I shall look at the early gigs I attended. The books that meant the most to me and see where I end up. I will include links and reviews and possibly random entries from my diaries ... all good fun.Fucked up Friends