On Friday night (21st February) I went to Hitchin to see the Bleach Boys perform at Club 85. The gig, organised by the Balstock charity as a fundraiser, saw three bands on the undercard and my favourite punk band headlining. Regular readers will know that I have written a number of Bleach Boys gig/music reviews in previous posts; in fact there is a risk that some might even think that I am an acting publicist for the band. To be clear, I am not, but I am more than happy to contribute to the cause!

All that I have penned before remains accurate so rather than repeat myself in this piece, you can read the previous articles by clicking through to them.

http://www.adrianbaldwin.net/1/post/2013/08/bleach-boys-and-chron-gen-at-club-85-in-hitchin-a-gig-review.html

http://www.adrianbaldwin.net/1/post/2013/05/the-bleach-boys-overload-and-rsi-punk-rock-with-king-billy.html

http://www.adrianbaldwin.net/the-bleach-boys-and-the-horn.html

http://www.adrianbaldwin.net/the-bleach-boys-a-cd-review.html

This post needs its own theme and that is going to be “a feeling of immense wellbeing”. But I’ll get to that in a moment.

Firstly a bit more about the evening; upon arrival in Hitchin, I got out of the suit that I had been trussed up in all week and donned a rugby shirt and cargo pants. I went to the gig with my close friend Mike and my sister Tina - that guaranteed good company and good music too.

The event was organised by Balstock chief, Graeme La Roche or just ‘G’ for short, who introduced the evening and fronted the band “Hostages to Smack”. Tattooed, sporting a short Mohican and wearing a stupidly-cool knitted Slayer Christmas jumper, he looked the part and is clearly a real character. His partner Rebecca ran the Balstock merchandising stall was/is also a good laugh. 

The first band on stage was an outfit called Nocturnal Pirates (a Biggleswade based three piece) and I have to say that the pirates did a good job and I enjoyed the set. Sometimes the first band of the evening is the weakest link but not the case at this event.

Next on the agenda was a Stevenage band called “The Grass Is Hairy”, a weird name for a group of teenagers whose music rather failed to hold my attention. In fact after a couple of songs Mike, Tina and I headed downstairs to the bar to chat and watch the rugby. This is a complete digression but watching the Welsh outclass the French was delightful – my joy compounded on Saturday when the English beat the Irish (that’s the Six Nations thrown wide open again).

Anyway back to the stage; next up “Hostages to Smack” fronted by G. After a sound check, which turned into a lengthy palaver (and the drummer’s microphone never did get turned up), the band finally got going. To be frank the set ended up a bit disjoined and whilst there were some high points, I’ll admit that when chatting to Rebecca and John Profit (the unsung fifth Bleach Boy), I suggested the band wasn’t great and she pointed out that G was her other half – a hilarious foot in mouth moment!

By around 22:15 it was time for the Bleach Boys to start setting up and that meant my evening was about to take off. Fuelled by a number of pints of Doom Bar, my spirits were high and the weight from another week at work was falling from my shoulders.

Despite the fact that the venue had a fair contingent of teenagers present, it took an old git like me to get the dancing for the Bleach Boys underway. I use the term dancing loosely of course, barging and jumping around like a lunatic is more descriptive. I really am getting a bit long in the tooth to be doing this kind of thing.

I don’t know what I looked like, a buffoon for certain but I was having a marvellous time and I couldn’t have cared less how stupid I looked. I haven’t had so much fun, or felt so young in ages! For an hour or so I was just ridiculously happy, free of cares and living solely for the moment.

In total, the Bleach Boys set was about fifteen songs in duration and I bounced around for every tune. Others came and went from the dance floor including one attractive woman who danced with me for a while (although “Strictly” it wasn’t). Despite my slightly inebriated state, I think there was some potential for chemistry between us, although it’s more probable that I was completely wrong.

Of course nothing happened, the fact is that neither of us made any effort to make anything happen; but even the prospect that there was potential something could have, was good for my soul. I stated at the start that the theme for this piece was immense wellbeing – I still have enough stamina to dance the night away and younger women may (or may not) still find me attractive! 

Blimey!

The Bleach Boys played flawlessly (even with new drummer, a chap called Mark who I was introduced to at the end of the gig), at pace, with energy, commitment, enthusiasm, humour and irreverence; if you like punk music and you haven’t made it to one of this band’s gigs then put it on your to do list.

Punk has a reputation for being the music of disaffected, angry and aggressive youth but, and here’s a revelation, the stereotype needs to be reconsidered; it can make one (even middle aged fellas like me) feel happy and on top of the world, at least while the alcohol is coursing through one’s veins.    

On the subject of booze, on Saturday morning I’ll admit that I woke up feeling a little jaded, the high followed by a low of a hangover - but that was gone by 11:00am and was a small price to pay for such a good night out.

So John, Mark, Matt, Mark (and John P.) thanks for putting on a great show. I’ll look forward to seeing you all again soon.

And if anyone can remind me of the name of my female dance partner, let me know, she deserves a medal! 

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I watched Top Gear on Sunday (16th Feb.) and was amazed to see the gruesome twosome of Clarkson and May drive their small cars (a Volkswagen Up and a Dacia Sandero) into the 30km exclusion zone around Chernobyl and the infamous No.4 reactor. My initial thoughts were fear for them and then a disbelief that the presenters were allowed to do something so foolhardy in the drive (pun intended) to provide entertainment. I couldn’t believe that the BBC, with all its health and safety responsibilities, would sanction the broadcasting of such stupidity.

Clarkson and May went in without any protective clothing (only shielded from the radiation by their cars) with Geiger counters clicking and with a suggestion of terror! The producers were trying to create engaging, slightly scary, thought provoking television and, to be fair, managed to pull it off.

However; what I didn’t know at the time but, after a bit of research do now, is that tourism inside the exclusion zone has become common place since 2012 and was doable even a few years earlier.

Since 1986 the radiation levels around the plant have fallen significantly and whilst it’s still a dangerous environment, a few hours of controlled exposure are unlikely to have much impact on someone’s health. It turns out that there are hot spots to be avoided and visitors are fully briefed and given strict instructions on what they can and can’t do and where they can and can’t go. All visitors are accompanied by authorised guides and monitored by the military. Whilst tourists can get relatively close to the plant, they can’t get close enough to the areas that are still highly dangerous.

Clarkson and May (as do most tourists as it turns out) went into Pripyat, the hastily abandoned town descending into rust and ruin. They observed the landmark Ferris wheel and post-apocalyptic scenes worthy of any horror/sci-fi film.

So, realising that one could go to into the dead zone, what I still struggled to understand is why one would. The environment is dangerous, grey and about as bleak and depressing as you could get without being in a functioning war zone and having bodies to look at as well. 

If I ever go to Poland, I will visit Auschwitz because I think it is important to remember and acknowledge the horror and learn the lessons of history; maybe that’s what drives visitors to Chernobyl - I suppose seeing scenes so grim helps one to realise how lucky one is (hopefully it’s that anyway as opposed to some more grotesque and ghoulish motivation)!

Back to Top Gear, having been shocked by the programme, I am a bit disappointed with it now because the producers just weren’t honest with the messages. Going into the exclusion zone was portrayed as bloody dangerous when it isn’t really - people go in daily and that wasn’t addressed; Clarkson and May play acted terror when it wasn’t justified; by inference that made the presenters seem brave/ bold/heroic, which is nonsense. At the back of my mind is this nagging thought that the attempt at fake drama trivialises the real drama for those that survived the catastrophe and still live with the consequences.

I think that the scenes shot by the Top Gear camera crew in the exclusion zone were genuinely poignant and would have been so without the presenters’ bravado.  The message “you can see this yourself if you are so inclined” or even some insight into the value that tourism is adding to the Ukrainian economy or benefiting those affected by the disaster would have been better.

I know that Top Gear is all about entertainment and buffoonery; I look forward to watching every episode and this won’t change, but the Ukrainian mini adventure (though no Minis were featured) could have been much more factual and better for it.  

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It is Valentine’s Day so here’s a post loosely based around the topics of love and commitment.

My close friend Mike (this isn’t the love bit just in case you are getting nervous already) runs a shop in St. Albans that, amongst many other value-add services, sells/delivers newspapers/magazines to local residents. The other day we had an interesting conversation around the declining volume of newspaper sales and the impact that has on his business.

Now I am a keen consumer of current affairs and visit the BBC News website every day - it is a fact that many of the posts that materialise on this site are in some way linked to the material exposed in that environment. That makes me the kind of person that is contributing to the decline of local newsagents, like Mike, and that isn’t comforting.

That is not the complete story though because I find myself rather conflicted when it comes to consuming lengthier materials on screen or online. Whilst news is acceptable, I remain completely committed to physical books when it comes to reading for entertainment/relaxation/knowledge advancement.

Maybe I am just old fashioned!  Then again maybe you have a similar outlook. Read on; find out if this latest post resonates with you. Maybe you could even share your own perspective by posting a comment. 

To start; I refuse to consider purchasing a Kindle (other electronic reading devices are available) and I‘ve never downloaded a book to read on my smartphone. This post begins my campaign (a short one because it’s online) to see good old fashioned paper based reading material challenge the relentless growth of electronic media.

As it is Valentine’s Day, I’ll confess that I love reading; I have at least one book on the go all the time and I read for pleasure, for relaxation and for inspiration.  For me, part of the satisfaction in reading a book comes from physically turning the pages.  I don’t want to read everything on computer screens; I do this all day at work and it sometimes makes my eyes hurt.  Getting away from a computer screen is an indication that the working day is done, reprising it with more screen based reading is therefore undesirable.

If I was travelling, living out of a backpack and space/weight was a challenge, it is possible that I could be converted to the Kindle approach to reading but the facts are, I haven’t travelled in this constrained way for about 20 years and even back then, I used to have paperbacks that I’d leave behind or pass on to other people when I was done with them.

Despite my obvious appreciation for much that is retro, I don’t promote the book from a position of nostalgia but rather from the perspectives of engagement, practicality and value for money.

With a book, you can buy them new or second hand; you don’t have to invest in a gadget before you can read it; you don’t have to recharge your book because it runs out of battery life; there’s no operating system on a book to stop being supported; if you lose or damage a book, it’s not an expensive mistake (unlike an electronic device where you lose the gadget and the content on it as well).  When you are finished reading you can always send a book to a charity shop and let the shop sell it on and make some money for a good cause (the best kind of recycling). For me, I like passing the books I read on to my Dad, and he does the same for me. That just wouldn’t happen with a Kindle or a smartphone.

And without books, what do you do with bookmarks? A much appreciated and oft collected leather/ette souvenir of places visited and enjoyed (and surely a stalwart income generator for the National Trust); is the lowly bookmark at risk of vanishing from the public consciousness? Let’s hope not. 

Mrs Baldwin (and it’s appropriate to mention that I love her too) is a gadget lover, owner of an ipad and an iphone, who tends to disagree with me when I advocate CDs over downloads (to be the subject of a future article) is firmly on my side when it comes to books - she prefers the paper option too. You see the act of stopping, sitting down, picking up a book, interacting with it, and escaping into the text is a complete experience that is actually quite hard for a technology solution to replicate (especially if it is a phone that interrupts you with your emails, texts and Facebook updates).

Books are good, books are not old fashioned and books are better things to buy for your children than apps for their gadgets. When given as gifts, books are often written in by the presenter - they then become part of your personal history. Books are kept and/or shared/recommended to others and bizarrely, in technical terms, that makes them a social media. How much more up to date can you get?

On the subject of date, today is a special occasion; so I ask you this question “when you think of Valentine’s Day expressions of love, what’s better an email or a real, hand written card?” I bet the traditional physical option trumps the new-fangled virtual one every time.  

My final thoughts; Mike, maybe you can supplement your lost newspaper income with book sales but I’ve got another idea too – maybe you could set up a book exchange for your local residents to enjoy. You never know that might increase the footfall in your shop and once the locals are over the threshold you’d be bound to sell them something else too – a coffee, some biscuits or a bookmark perhaps! 

Love it!

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Today started on a tidal wave of emotional negativity. I have reflected upon the circumstances and resultant stress and I feel that a blog post to share the ridiculous experience is warranted.

Do you ever have those days where they start to go wrong immediately; you perceive poor omens and believe that the rest of the day is just going to be a nightmare?

For me Fridays are normally good days, the weekend is beckoning and the spirits are lifted; however challenging things get in the office, a break to clear your head is just around the corner. I usually feel more cheerful on a Friday.

But not this morning – this Friday my day started by feeling more like a Monday (immortalised in a song by Bob Geldof and his rats of Boomtown, and officially the worst day of the week).

After another disrupted night’s sleep (thanks to my six year old daughter’s inability to be awake without waking up the whole house and inability to get back to sleep without prolonged vocal protest), the alarm went off at 6am and I dragged myself to the bathroom.

Whilst shaving I managed to cut my top lip, the red fleshy bit. “Bloody hell” I swore!

Cutting myself shaving is a rare occurrence, let’s face it; I have been removing stubble from the lower portion of my fisog for decades so I should be proficient with the razor.

Today though I was clearly not operating at par and caught myself with the blade. Only a pin prick kind of nick, we are not exactly talking about the need for stitches. But having stated that, could I stop it bleeding? Could I heck!

Next I put some clothes on to go downstairs to do some jobs and then get some breakfast – paper tissue held to face to stem the flow of O positive.

Today Mrs Baldwin wanted to use my car because she had more than our usual complement of children to move around. My first job therefore involved me moving stuff between our cars before I could leave for work. Today it was 3.5 degrees Celsius and pouring with rain so I managed the transfer of things whilst holding an increasingly damp tissue to my face and getting cold and wet.

Breakfast next, at least in theory. Upon arrival in the kitchen, I could smell poo. One of the cats had decided to have a dump on the floor of the downstairs loo (completely ignoring the litter tray).

So, already frustrated, my second job of the day involved clearing up a jobbie!

Breakfast, and I got to it eventually, was cereal (fruit and fibre) and a cup of tea; I proved that eating/drinking without opening up a lip wound is impossible.  Cleaning teeth; same problem!

My lip finally stopped bleeding on my journey from Daventry to Milton Keynes. Was that the end of my woes, not completely – I discovered that Mrs Baldwin’s car had a deflating tyre that needed sorting out. And I only realised that when I parked the car up in MK. Grrrrrrrrr!

All this shenanigans meant that I was so cross when I arrived at the office that I had given myself a headache.

Just how stupid is that?

My view pretty stupid, and here’s my justification – my lip did stop bleeding; I dried out after being rained on; I got to listen to Snapshot, a terrific album from the Strypes on my way to the office; the car tyre has been pumped up and my headache went away. All that wasted energy and stress on being cross about nothing that significant at all.

Have you seen the Thomson Holidays TV advert featuring Dad the ogre gradually unwinding into a normal, sane person? The advert is brilliant in my opinion. I know this is a digression, the only bit the creatives missed was the scenario that as soon as Dad unwound, it was time to get back on the plane and go home!  Maybe that’s just me being grumpy but the point of this tangent is that this morning I was – that ogre was me!

Were the poor omens for Black Friday correct? No of course not; just another day in the office! In fact things looked up even as I arrived – I scored a good result by beating our chief technology officer to the best mug in the cupboard. The sun even started shining later. My “lesson to self” is to try not to get so wound up that I become “Thomson the Ogre”.

Of course thinking about it is easier than doing it; my katana of grumpiness, perhaps unlike my King of Shaves five blade, is razor sharp. Wish me luck!

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