On Tuesday 22nd February I went to see Desert Storm at my favourite local’ish’ gig venue; the Craufurd Arms, Wolverton, Milton Keynes.

Regular readers will know that I have written about the band on a number of occasions (previous posts detailed below). The fact is that I have been to more gigs than I have written about, and I now tend to write something when I gain new insight about the band or its members.

The long overdue tour was intended to promote the ‘Omens’ album. That was released in 2020, but obviously the last two years have been miserable for the live music scene and the fellas couldn’t get on the road.

The 15th anniversary tour was originally supposed to arrive in Wolverton on the 24th February. That gig ended up being cancelled because of a booking clash at the Craufurd.  

The show on the 22nd was supposed to be in Blackpool but got cancelled by the venue at the last minute because it was worried about the volume of pre-sold tickets.

Matt Ryan and I debated the state of advance ticket sales. The Blackpool venue was not willing to gamble on door sales; but given all the chaos over the last few years, you could expect people to want to buy tickets on the door instead of in advance… because at least they know the band has turned up and the gig is going to actually happen.

To illustrate, I was supposed to attend a Diamond Head gig in January 2021 (at the Craufurd incidentally); that gig got postponed to January 2022 and then got cancelled altogether by the covid-nervous and aging rockers. I got my money back, but only the face value of the ticket, not the booking fee, the insurance etc. So, no gig and I was still out of pocket. I’d much rather have taken my chances on the door.

After some hasty phoning around, the guys secured a last-minute fill in Craufurd slot and ended up arriving two days earlier than originally anticipated. It’s funny how things work out, Blackpool’s loss was my gain.

But the band’s gain was limited. Announcing a gig with 24 hours’ notice wasn’t going to be a ticket selling or even awareness creation success. The decision was made to make the gig free to access and the agreement with the venue was that the fellas wouldn’t get paid.

Then, to make matters more depressing, even though it was free, only a handful of punters turned up. I was one of them and thoroughly enjoyed the inadvertently socially distanced show.

The guys were philosophical about the turn out and, even though it was way below their usual expectations, put in a good natured and professional performance.

It just proves that the music industry is a tough mistress; the band has been going for 15 years, has a recording contract, has produced five albums, with a sixth in development … and still has to do the occasional gig for free, or in front of a tiny audience. But free isn’t accurate, the chaps have to fund their own transport, hotel rooms and other expenses. so a ‘make no money’ gig becomes a ‘make a loss gig’.

Reality, and it’s harsh, is that the band don’t earn a living from Desert Storm. The love of their craft keeps the band motivated, not the cash. Even after 15 years, the day jobs are still essential.

Coming to the gig itself, the band played a mixture of old and new tracks, the set list was as follows:

• Black Bile
• The Machine
• Vengeful Gods
• Lockjaw
• Master Of None – new, unreleased
• Queen Reefer
• Mr Strongbatch
• Path Of Most Resistance
• Drifter
• Titan
• Scorpion
• Enslaved In The Icy Tundra (my favourite track of the night)
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Chris White was missing from the line up for the tour, so Ryan Cole was handling all the guitar work. I met Matt Dennett the new bass player for the first time – he played in the support band as well so did back-to-back sets – that’s commitment.

The original bass player was Chris Benoist, that meant two Chris’ in the band. Now there are two Matts instead. Then of course there are two Coles, brothers Ryan and Elliot; and two Ryans too – Matt Ryan and Ryan Cole.

For the band’s gig on 26th February, at Oxford’s O2 Academy, Chris Benoist will return to do the second half of the set ... and get the proper send-off he deserves. Chris White will play that show too, so there will be two Chris’, two Matts, two Coles and two Ryans. I may have got side-tracked here!

But I kind of got to where I needed to be anyway. I am going to the Oxford show, that means I’ll have seen the band twice in the same week. That’s a first.

Seeing the band again so soon is worthwhile because the band is that good. In my last gig review for British Lion, I stated that I wouldn’t bother seeing that one again. Unlike Tuesday, that gig was sold out, but ticket sales aren't an accurate gauge of the quality of the band. Desert Storm is a better band than British Lion and much more deserving of a full auditorium.

The good news is that the Oxford show, on the band’s home turf, has a significant volume of pre-sold tickets and is going to be a full house. Can’t wait.

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Previous posts:
17/02/15 Eating, drinking and rocking on the Cowley Road 
19/03/15 Desert Storm and some other noisy bastards
10/12/15 Desert Storm at The Craufurd Arms – a gig review​
10/08/16 Digression, Desert Storm and Honky​
04/12/17 ​Ten year, cellar matured Desert Storm joy
04/07/18 Desert Storm and Karma to Burn at the Craufurd ​

I wrote a few weeks ago that I expected to wake up one day and find the world had changed. Today was that day.

Putin has done just what he wanted to and invaded Ukraine. If he wants to absorb it back into Russia and continue on his quest to rebuild the USSR, he isn’t going to be stopped.

Sanctions, important though they are, will have minimal impact because Putin has China’s support. China has refused to condemn Putin or impose sanctions. Putin will just trade with the Chinese instead of Europe and the US. Europe will refuse Russia’s oil and gas, but China will just take it all instead.

NATO won’t send in troops because then a wider war is almost inevitable.

The ramping up of NATO defences is significant because they reflect the bigger concern that Putin isn’t done yet. Ukraine is surrounded by other ex-eastern bloc countries that are full NATO members. If Putin targets any of those then NATO’s military response is guaranteed.

And if we go to war in a more global sense, it won’t be fought with guns and tanks, it will be fought with nukes. Putin has pretty much alluded to their use already by stating that any interference will be met with brutal force the like of which has not been seen before. That’s scary stuff.

While we should be worrying about climate management, carbon reduction, biodiversity and generally saving the planet, we now have to contend with the spectre of war and destroying more of it instead. It's so damn stupid.

From a personal perspective, I have found myself worrying that doomsday is getting closer. And that has made me think that I might need to review my priorities.

For pretty much my whole life I have been sensible, practical and largely risk averse; I have spent years investing for the future and as a result not travelled as much as I wanted to and never had the cars/motorbikes for example that I really desired. I am still on my first marriage, the kids have been supported, the debts have been manageable, I have a pension etcetera, etcetera.

Blimey, I am old and boring. That was never the plan.

But it is now conceivable (even more so than it was in the early eighties) that everything that has been built around the family could go up in a mushroom cloud. That makes me think that I need to do more living for the moment, be more spontaneous, be irresponsible and have a lot more fun. While I still can.

I’ll talk to Mrs Baldwin later and ask her if she’ll let me…

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Do you know anyone that went to Eliots Green Grammar School, Northolt in the late fifties/early sixties? I ask this question because if you can help me with something (or you are connected to someone else who can) I’d be extremely grateful.

My dad, Neil Baldwin, went to Eliots Green from 1957-1964 or thereabouts (he's in the photo below). One of the things that he kept for decades after was his knitted school scarf.

​I lost it for him in 1992 and my sister and I are trying to get him a new one made. The problem is that given all the time that has passed since we last saw it, we can’t remember the colourway or the thickness of the stripes - certainly purple, yellow, some white we think, but after that we are vague.

My dad can’t remember the colours, neither can my uncle or my Godfather and all of them went to the same school. My sister has tried the school’s Facebook group and drew a blank there too.
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The circumstances of the loss of the scarf still irritate me 30 years later. The scarf was actually stolen from me on 28th January 1992. I was at a Zodiac Mindwarp gig at Reading University Student Union with my good friend Chris Williams. Whilst it was bloody cold outside, it was hot and sweaty inside and I’d taken off my leather jacket and scarf and left them at the back of the hall.  At the end of the show my jacket was still there, but my dad’s scarf was gone. As I left the gig I was looking to see if anyone was wearing it - there would have been trouble if I spotted the new ‘owner’ – but I didn’t get lucky and that was that.

​Dad isn’t especially sentimental about any possession, but he did value his old school scarf. It has come up in conversation occasionally over the years and I genuinely feel some guilt that it was lost under my stewardship.

So, my sis and I are trying to right a wrong and get him a replacement. In our interconnected world, it must be possible to find someone that has still got a scarf and can tell us the colours, the order of stripes and the width of them. Maybe someone could even send me a photograph.

On LinkedIn I am connected to around 500 souls, on Facebook I am connected to almost 150, and all of those people are connected to many others. The other day I found out that I have got seven connections in common with Quentin Wilson and nine in common with the CEO of Porsche UK, so it must be feasible to track down an Eliots Green alumni or two.

This is where you can help. Please share my quest with your connections and let me know if anyone out there can assist. My website has been live for a decade, and this is the first time I have ever asked for a post to be shared in this way. I hope that the request sits okay with you.

And you never know, if this piece happens to be read by the person that helped themselves to the scarf at the Zodiac Mindwarp gig in 1992, maybe I could even get the original back. Stranger things have happened.
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That fact is that my old man is getting on a bit now and my sister and I would love to be able to replace his old school scarf while we still can.

My thanks in advance ​if you are willing to help.

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Every so often I waste my time and reflect that I’ll never get the hours back. Then I regret that I didn’t do something more productive. Watching Nomadland is one of those instances.

Bizarrely, having wasted a few hours already, I am now writing this blog post which, because no one will read it anyway, will waste a bit more of my precious time. Still, on the off chance that I might save a few readers the bother of watching the film, it might do some social good.

Nomadland is a multi-award winning film (that’s the reason I chose to watch it) about the US traveller community that focuses on the life of Fern. Frances McDormand, who plays Fern, delivers a brilliantly balanced low-key performance, and was perfectly cast for the role.

The film is well crafted, it is like a clever mixture of film and documentary, it involves real members of the travelling community, and I can understand why it appealed to the film making industry.

An Amazon reviewer stated that it’s “a powerfully moving story of hope and resilience“ but, as far as I am concerned, Fern’s story is just depressing.

She loses her husband (he dies) and then, because it was connected to his job and the whole company is in ruin, she loses her home in rural Nevada, and with it her teaching job. Through what amounts to poverty, she has to live in a panel van whilst travelling around the country to work in a succession of crappy, minimum wage jobs.  

Fern’s poverty is grim, the van is grim and when it breaks down, she can’t afford to fix it. So much for self-sufficiency and independence, she has to beg her sister for financial help. She has no toilet or shower facilities (think shitting in a bucket) and when she gets ill, it’s even more bleak. She even has to cut her own hair … so that looks shit too.

To make matters worse, there are two points in the film where she has a chance to live with a fancy man, or with her sister and have a proper roof over her head, and she declines both times to carry on living in her bloody van.

And when you think it couldn’t get anymore miserable … it does. Her friends start dying.

At one point she is driving by her old home to find that it, and all the other company houses, are empty. What a fucking waste – the place is a ghost-town and everything is in decline. The evicted folk might as well have been given the scope to stay in their homes and keep the community going.

I watched the film worrying that I was going to find out that Fern had been mugged, raped or even murdered – seriously, it was that bleak that I was worried it was going to get worse.    

But in the end, not much happens, the film is long and it plods along at a sluggish pace. If you like an action movie, this isn’t it.

I persevered right until the end but then wished I hadn’t because by that point it was late at night and I honestly felt miserable and lonely. Admittedly it probably didn’t help that Mrs Baldwin and the kids were away for the weekend and that the house was quiet.

JK Rowling and Harry Potter came to mind because watching Nomadland was like getting a visit from the Azkaban dementors – the joy was well and truly sucked out of me.

Which, all in all, isn’t a good recommendation. If you are depressed, for God’s sake don’t watch this film. If you want to evaluate how lucky you are, watch it for a little while and then go and do something else.

One could argue that any film that generates such a depth of feeling must be good – but I don’t normally watch films to feel miserable afterwards. Why would anyone want to do that?

The best film I have ever seen is Schindlers’ List. When I came out of the cinema after watching it, I felt overwhelmed, quiet and rather tearful. And so did the rest of the cinema goers; I haven’t experienced such a quiet exodus from a film in the decades since. The experience was deep and meaningful and never repeated.

Nomadland was similar, but only in the sense that it will never be repeated.     
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As much as I am looking forward to seeing Boris’ tenure at number ten come to an end, I have been paying close attention to the news of late to keep tabs on something completely different.

The situation in the Ukraine is bothering me a lot more than Boris’ fuckwittery.  Russia is going to invade and one of these mornings I am going to wake up to read that our world isn’t the same anymore.

There is a suggestion that diplomacy may yet prevail, but I don’t believe that for a moment. Putin didn’t move all the troops and equipment to the Ukraine border just to move them all away again.

To read most recently that the Russians are suggesting that the Americans are increasing the tensions and pushing them towards war is utter nonsense. The Russians are trying to spin the narrative and justify their invasion plans.

It has been suggested, by the Russians, that NATO is testing them and that Putin is responding to threats to his national security, but again that is just bollocks. The NATO allies haven’t been moving their troops and equipment to Russia’s borders and threatening to invade.

When the invasion of Ukraine happens, the global fallout is going to be significant, and we’ll all be a lot less secure.
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And on the subject of fallout (though this really is a digression), I guess the Russians let Europe fund, design and build the Chernobyl shroud (read earlier post) before making any decision to take the landmass back.

To make matters worse, the Chinese appear to be allying with Putin. A second major superpower with its own expansionist agenda (think Taiwan) might be more inclined to flex its muscles whilst other chaos is underway.

And then there’s North Korea firing its missiles almost daily…

The latest news is that the UK and US governments have instructed their citizens to get out while commercial flights are still available.

War is coming and I am certain that it’s so close that if I spend any more time working on this post, it will be old news. But I am hoping to God that I am wrong.

It’s looking very grim in the east and it’s extremely concerning.

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On Saturday 20th November 2021, I took part in a Biker Down course organised by Northamptonshire Fire & Rescue Service and Northamptonshire Police. It was held at Northamptonshire Police’s Wootton Hall headquarters.

I first became aware of the course in August via Facebook and requested a place. The September course was oversubscribed, but the organiser was good enough to place me on the waiting list so that I could take part in a subsequent one.

This is how the course is positioned “the free first aid training will help you to manage the scene if you come across a motorcycle traffic collision”.

I had never attended a first aid course before. Over the years I had numerous opportunities to become a workplace first aider but, whilst I fancied the knowledge, I never really wanted the responsibility that came with being one. But as part of the motorcycling fraternity, I thought that taking some responsibility was the right thing to do because I’d want to be able to help if I came across a downed rider … and I’d want others to have some insight if they came across me in a downed situation.

Everyone that rides a motorcycle knows the risk that they are taking. Motorcycle riders are so much more vulnerable on the road and have a far greater chance of being killed or seriously injured in an accident than those in cars.

I know that I could end up in serious trouble if I come off, but it’s not something that I dwell upon. If I did, I wouldn’t ride.

At the event, the presenters shared their experiences of real-life situations in a graphic way that would bother the squeamish and potentially put would-be riders off bothering at all.

For example, the fire service uses thermal imaging cameras to find riders, or bits of them, at accident scenes because riders, or their passengers (or bits of them), may end up some distance away from the crash. Nice.
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The presenters were riders themselves and the point of the course was not to scare attendees, but rather to create awareness and give practical advice to better manage risk.

In essence the course ran through the following:

• Avoiding getting into an incident through sensible riding decision making
• Managing the scene of an accident
• Making sure that you/others are safe and can be seen
• Communicating with the emergency services
• Taking care of casualties as best as you can
• Liaising with the emergency services once they are on scene

The course took an entire morning so I can’t share all the content with you in this post. There were some great bits of advice however that I’ll share with you now.

The police and the fire service are fans of hi viz. When the room was asked ‘who routinely wears it’, my hand shot up … but as it turned out, I was in the minority. My hi viz has always been yellow, but it turns out that different colour hi viz has benefits at certain times of day. In daylight orange stands out more than yellow and at night, the reverse is true.

Another valuable piece of advice was aimed at car drivers who help others at crash scenes. Apparently, it is not uncommon for concerned passers by to let those involved in accidents sit in their cars to keep warm. That will sometimes end up with the well-intentioned helper getting their car roof chopped off. The reason this happens is that those involved in car accidents often get a surge of adrenaline that masks the pain of things like whiplash. As soon as the adrenaline hit wears off and victims are in pain, getting them out of a vehicle may end up involving the hydraulic cutters. This is because the blue light rescue folk are required to keep a victim’s C-spine straight – that means lifting them straight up (and a roof is then a problem). The fire service has had to cut off police car roofs for this reason too.  

Another valuable hint/tip was about location identification. I wasn’t familiar with the 3 Words app, but it is now downloaded to my phone. The app, which the emergency services use, mean that they can pinpoint the location of an incident easily and get to it much faster. And bloody useful if you are in a flap to have an app think clearly for you.

It wasn’t just advice on offer, practical stuff was being demonstrated too like helmet removal and CPR. I got to have a go at CPR on a dummy and blimey, it’s harder and more brutal than I ever expected. The force by which you need to pump is often enough to crack a person’s ribs. It’s exhausting too; you have to maintain a rate of about 100 compressions per minute – 30 check, 30 check etc.  It’s quite a workout and easier if two people are present to share the workload.

I didn’t realise that the purpose of CPR is only to keep blood flowing around the body manually until the medics can administer the drugs that are actually likely to get the person’s heart going again. Keeping blood moving is essential in reducing the post heart failure impairments that a victim might have to live with if they survive.

So, after a morning’s investment of time, I came away with much to reflect upon.

Thank God though that I haven’t had to put my newfound skills/awareness into use yet.

I have since acquired some orange hi viz so that in the daytime I can look like a motorway roadworker when out on my Honda. On the bright side (cause it’s hi viz, haha – pun intended), I now look less like a lollipop person.

By way of a wrap, I recommend this course to others. They are being organised around the country by local emergency services and are well worth the time. And on that matter, I want to thank the team that gave up its time on a Saturday morning to help inform and educate me.

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Since 17th January I have been taking part in an event from Big Team Challenge called the “WellMeWalk”. After active encouragement from the company to shake off the January blues and the extra weight piled on over Christmas, 36 teams have been formed. We are tasked with covering the length of the Great Wall of China.

In order to contribute to the cause, I have been running at lunchtime, diligently counting the steps on my phone and logging my achievements on the event website at the end of each evening.

Running in single degree temperatures from West Haddon towards Long Buckby and then back again has been cold, repetitive and dull, but not without some moments of wonder.

On Tuesday this week a Hercules C-130 flew over my route at such a low level that the pilot and I could have waved to each other. The aircraft was impressive, noisy and going slowly enough to defy gravity. As it thundered overhead, the dark grey bird was huge, and frankly awe inspiring.

And one bird leads to me another.

For the last week or so, I have regularly been accompanied on part of my journey by a pheasant. Honestly, there’s this bit of woodland where this male pheasant was hanging out and, when I ran by, it would run alongside me (only separated by about six feet). The first time was surprising, but then I began to see the same pheasant in the same place every day.

I actually started to keep an eye out for the bird and even started calling it. After some noise from the undergrowth, out would pop Mr Pheasant and he’d run with me again.

As a digression, I normally hate pheasants because they are stupid and unpredictable, and when you ride a motorcycle, they are a menace and more dangerous than you might think. Only a few weeks ago one of my motorcycling buddies had a pheasant fly into his crash helmet and he was lucky to stay on his bike. His helmet was wrecked in the incident.

I appreciate that projecting any kind of human thought process on to a bird with less intelligence than my keyboard is silly … but it was like Mr. P. was my running buddy. Most probably he was just trying to run me off his patch, but he was good, if bizarre, company.

Over dinner the other night, I shared my running story with misses B., miss B. and the younger mister B. It’s fair to state that there was much eye rolling and suggestion that I was mad and ‘so embarrassing’. But I didn’t care and yesterday Mr. P. and I ran together again.
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​On my run today though, Mr. P. didn’t come when called. And then to my horror, I found a mangled body at the side of the road.

Now admittedly, one pheasant looks a lot like another.  So, it might not be my running pal … but the body was right where I always see Mr. P.

When I called today, just in case it wasn’t him, no pheasant appeared. And that was rather sad.
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A bit like me according to my kids.

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