Concert Season

I have learned today that Christmas jumpers, especially of the cheap and cheerful* variety are rather too warm to wear in a heated office. How on earth have we got to December 12^th already? I only have three more days of work before Christmas, and rather more than three days’ work to do. (This blog is my lunch hour – I am typing whilst eating an (apparently) seasonal Brie and Grape sandwich.)

Concert season starts tomorrow, with Voxcetera’s Christmas concert in Tufnell Park – details here if you are a) interested and b) reading this within about 24 hours of publication. And my parents are coming down for the weekend. Largely to see me and the kids, but they have timed it to see Vox for the first time. I am sure they won’t be disappointed.

And then starting Monday evening I am into the Albert Hall run of Monday, Thursday, Saturday (twice) and Tuesday (23^rd) with a diversion via Birmingham Symphony Hall on Monday 22^nd. A very different animal from Voxcetera, but if you are going to see any of Jonathan Cohen’s 'Christmas Singalong's, do wave. I won’t have a hope in hell of seeing you, but it’s the thought that counts (in joke - see last blog).

In other news, I did wonder whether I should bother with a Christmas tree this year. But how can you not? There was a period in my life from about say 16 – 25 when I got very turned off by Christmas – the childhood magic had gone and it just seemed like commercialism etc. Having kids of my own rekindled it definitely – there are few better things than watching a three-year-old unwrap Christmas presents. Now they are all past the ‘magic’ stage – my youngest is 14, and although I've never had the difficult dad-son conversation with any of my three (the one about Father Christmas I mean) I don’t *think* he believes any more (and he’s lost all his milk teeth so the Tooth Fairy has passed into history too).

But I still feel that Christmas is something special. Yes, it is too commercial. No, I'm not religious so the Baby Jesus thing isn't a thing for me. But it is still a time when the country pauses and allows the work-life pendulum to swing decidedly too far in the ‘life’ direction for a week. I think that singing in front of 30,000-odd people (some very odd) who are out to enjoy themselves does engender the Christmas spirit. As do the parties and gatherings that happen at this time of the year.

For me it will be a nice mix – plenty of group stuff in the run up, and then some quiet time to recharge over the actual holiday (though I am being catered for on Christmas day). Might do a spot of busking as well I think… And then once the holiday is over I can get to thinking about what next year holds – am I going to carry on with blogging, is there another musical challenge ahead of me, should I write a book (or take to the stage)? [bonus point if you get that reference].

But that’s getting ahead of ourselves. For now, Let’s enjoy the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.

* i.e. £12 from Primark

The Ghost of Christmas Presents.

Apologies to any Dickens fans for that title...

Well, it's been a while. But, like the best of friendships I'm hoping we can be straight back to being comfortable with each other right away, as if the gap had never happened. Right?

Its a little over four weeks since I wrote and it's just been so busy that I haven't had the time. Am typing this on train to work, but imagine I will not finish it until lunchtime, but I've been busy enough that any time I've had with a clear diary I've either needed to do the shopping/washing etc, or I have needed to sleep.

So, what have I been doing you ask? Plenty of rehearsals - for gigs with Voxcetera - gig Saturday 13th - come along, Albert Hall gigs, and Ukulele gigs too (less rehearsing for these to be fair). Plus socialising, trying to make the most of the nice weather - which seems to be back today - by getting out and about and thinking about / planning Christmas things.

As ever, the thought of buying Christmas presents fills me with dread and panic. 'Oh, it's the thought that counts' is a phrase I have always viewed with as much suspicion as 'size isn't important', 'it's what's on the inside that counts' etc.

At least with kids you get a list - and adding a surprise or two to that isn't difficult. This year, not only have I got a list from one, he has helpfully (no irony intended - I mean this) linked it to the relevant Amazon entries. If only he could have done it as a wish list, he could have saved me six clicks, but pretty good. And the others just want money, which is a pretty dull present but I was the same as a teenager.

Parents (who have everything they need and dislike clutter etc, so don't want to have things they don't need) are a difficult one though. But easy compared to friends - I'm not going to get disinherited for a 4/10 Xmas gift...

Mind you, I can't be an easy person to buy for. A book or music you think? Yes, but a good chance I've got or borrowed it already. Unless it involves Russell Brand. But if you know me well enough to buy a present you would know not to buy that.

If somebody asks me what I would like, I honestly have no idea at all. It's not particularly that I want to be surprised, it's just that my mind is a blank in that area. And that is an area very adjacent to the 'good ideas for presents for others' and indeed seems to share the same tumbleweeds.

Given I'm not going down the route of The Voucher (other than perhaps for those who are geographically remote) my strategy is to walk up and down the aisles of shops until I receive some sort of divine inspiration. Which just, short term, exchanges the uncertainty over what to buy with one for whether I bought the right thing. Which will by 25/12 be itself replaced with the knowledge that I didn't, or an uncertainty as to whether it was really appreciated or they were just saying that.

Be honest - am I over-analysing here? I am, aren't I?

Right - first 20 minutes of lunchtime used up in posting this - off to wander the Whitgift centre now in search of ideas. Wish me luck.

The heat is on

The signs went up in my building yesterday to say that the communal heating system would be switched on at 8pm today, it being October 1^st. I don’t think this involves any kind of ceremony, by which perhaps resident Arthur Smith cuts a ribbon or pushes a big fake button. But it's an indication that winter is coming*.

Although it hasn't felt like that over the last couple of days. Coming back from a rehearsal late last night across London it was still warm as it approached midnight.

Coming up for me on Saturday is Voxcetera's autumn concert – please drop in if you happen to be in Muswell Hill at lunchtime – it’s a free one and has a wide variety of music so there is as they say something for everyone. And then next week I am going to see the legendary James Taylor at the Albert Hall. I have never seen him live, but am expecting the smooth rich voice and a tour through his high-quality back catalogue. If it turns out he is debuting his new thrash jazz album (a la Spinal Tap’s change of direction) I will be most disappointed!

And to complete the musical tour, I have my first rehearsal for Christmas things the week after. On the 12^th of October. I know this feels really early, but at least we have the excuse that we do need to rehearse stuff. It’s not like the shops merrily stacking up the baubles and Christmas chocolate for the next three months. Rest assured, I won’t be loading up my IPod Christmas playlists for a good couple of months.

I need to start thinking about Christmas I guess. It’s a time of the year that I love – concerts, presents, a decent rest and general peace and goodwill etc. Going to be a little different though this year given my change in domestic circumstances, and so I need to figure out what’s the best way of doing things. The kids are now firmly latched into the teen/young adult Christmas concept of excess and materialism, so magical present unwrapping hasn't been a thing for a while, but it’s these set piece things that are bound to feel a little odd.

And that’s pretty much the diary for the next week or so. I was planning to write something about the UK political party conferences, but even the headlines have been such a turn-off that I have completely failed to engage with them this year. And that goes for all of them. Nobody is really saying anything different. Rises in the minimum wage so that within five years people will be a little less close to starving, changes to complex pension regimes that I have no desire of trying to understand, and whatever it was the Lib Dems offered (was it to do with poodles or did I dream that?). It’s not exciting stuff is it? 

I love the fact that the Scots seem to have got real political excitement and engagement out of their referendum – but wonder that it will take for us to feel the same. 

*yes, this is a sneaky meta-data reference to try and get Game of Thrones traffic to my blog – sorry. 

No Accounting for Taste

I am delighted by my decision to take a full two weeks off work at Christmas time this year. Looking in a leisurely fashion at the articles on line about "what you have missed over the holidays" when I don't have to get back on the train until Monday has proved as much of a boost as the holiday itself.

But reality and normality do have to bite at some stage, and this morning's little nip was sitting down to straighten out my accounts for the last days of 2013. Ouch - I spent a lot of money in December. None of it on me (except for a couple of books and a new pair of headphones for a tenner) but a lot of cash swam out the door in the run up to Christmas.

Anyone who knows me will gather that I am quite picky about tracking these things - I've kept proper accounts for my life since about 1995 - originally through MS Money (a great program - why did they discontinue it?) but latterly through spreadsheets. I usually sit down on a Sunday morning, sort out any bills that need to be paid, and check account balances etc. Bank statements and credit card bills get filed away and the next week can safely begin.

Writing this down makes it seem slightly weird behaviour - mildly OCD'ish I guess. But its roots are from being a student and (genuinely) forgetting about cheques written and bills due and spending the money twice.

By the way - I come from a time when there were no student loans. Tuition was free and there was a grant / and or parental contribution for maintenance. Everyone moaned about how much the value of the grant had been eroded, and it would have been hard to live on the grant alone. (Well, not hard to live - hard to live as a student would want to.) But I graduated with a modest amount of overdraft debt. About £600 I think. Even with inflation, that is some way short of £27,000 for tuition alone.

Then, on joining the working world, I needed stuff - like suits and shiny shoes, and flat deposits. And I wanted stuff as a reward for being a working man - like a car (1982 Ford Escort 1.3L in canary yellow since you ask) and a synthesiser.

Easy, I thought. Get a loan, deal with the OD and get the cash for the car etc. My bank was delighted to lend it to me.

Then I wanted (not needed) more stuff (a Commodore Amiga to link to the synthesiser), and was starting to want to go out and spend cash on just going out (student living was all about cheap beer, and cheap clubs - not so much of this dressing up and spending monstrous amounts on drinks with umbrellas*). So I started getting into a bit of debt at the end of the month, then the middle, and then got to that point where I was in the black for about two days when I was paid.

Easy I thought (again). Rework the loan, borrow some more and I'll be fine. So I went to see the bank (Midland Bank in Ipswich). And I got to see the manager, who much to my surprise said "No". I remember the conversation even today. "You can't borrow your way out of trouble" she said. "You need to learn to budget and live within it". And then she said that "you can find other people who will lend you money, but you need to learn to save up for things".

And I listened. And I had about three months where I spent very little and straightened myself out. And started to understand where my money went, and what I could and couldn't control.

Result: I learned to budget, and avoided a debt trap that so many others have fallen into, almost solely because of a bank manager with a more old-fashioned attitude to lending. I can't imagine her career went terribly well in the lending-target-driven 1990s and 2000s. But she helped me to learn a healthy and prudent attitude to money. And if my accounts-driven partial OCD comes with that, it feels a reasonable price to pay.


* I never actually drank any drinks with umbrellas OK? Allow me some artistic licence here.