With 24 hour live news coverage of the invasion of Ukraine, the war is never very far away from my thoughts.

While the news is often harrowing, there have been some positive developments amidst all the doom and gloom:

• The fighting spirit of the Ukrainians is commendable
• The unity of the EU and the NATO members is remarkable
• The sanctions process is having more impact than I thought it could
• The countries offering Ukrainians unconditional refuge is heart-warming
• President Zelensky is brilliant

But the situation is grim and is going to get worse. Putin’s relative lack of success is likely to lead to more drastic aggression. The current suggestion that Russia may be looking to fabricate a scenario that justifies it retaliating with chemical/biological/nuclear weapons is horrifying.

You’ll probably be familiar with all this stuff already and there are much better places than this for keeping up to date, or for getting more informed commentary.

But in the opening paragraph I mentioned my thoughts… and the BBC News won’t convey those better than I can.

The other day, I was stressed because a roof tile fell off and, over a handful of days, I made dozens of phone calls before I could get the roof repaired. Then the oven failed. Having water coming in through the roof or having an oven that won’t heat up are problems, but they amount to nothing in the wider scheme of things.

Watching and then thinking about the Ukranians that;

• look just like me,
• lived their lives just like me,
• had plans for the future,

having to abandon their homes, jobs and country, taking just what they can carry and with no idea if/when they’ll be able to go back, or if their homes will have been destroyed…

… puts all my stresses into a completely different context. I can’t imagine the thought of having to do the same thing. It would be utterly soul destroying and I know I would struggle to process the loss.

So I have found it weird to be getting on with my life like nothing is happening – the Groundhog Day existence of going to work, taking my daughter to school, tidying the house, feeding the pets, fixing stuff etcetera, etcetera. To be fair, I am not sure what else I could be doing that would make any difference … but life feels out of synch with reality.

And that brings me to 1984.

George Orwell’s novel keeps springing into my mind. If you haven’t read it, you should because the Russian spin on the news, or its reimagining of history, is bringing Orwell’s creation to life in the real world.
   
The fact is that the Russian people are being lied to constantly by their government and the Putin regime is blatantly lying on the international stage too. Inside Russia, anyone that protests is likely to be arrested. The truth is fake news and exponents of the truth are likely to be jailed.
 
I listened to Vladimir Kara-Murza, a vocal Russian opposition speaker being interviewed the other day and he was compelling. His view is that the information war is as important as the weapons and the sanctions. He argued that getting accurate information to the Russian populace could be the most important thing in turning the Russian people against their own leader. Getting rid of Putin should be down to ordinary Russians not some special forces team.

You can read more from Kara-Murza in this Washington Post article:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2022/03/07/west-must-help-russians-learn-truth-about-war-ukraine-independent-media/

As a communications man rather than a soldier (who might prioritise weapons over the pen), Kara-Murza’s opinions resonated with me because I don’t understand how ordinary Russians would condone a war in their name if they knew the truth. For the Russian soldiers, if they knew the truth, regardless of their orders, I don’t know how they could kill ordinary Ukrainians (people that look like them and even speak their language). To me, an analogy is the English going to war with the Scots or the Welsh - it makes no sense at all.

And it’s in this information war that this post is worth me writing and you reading. I alluded to feeling a bit impotent earlier, the ‘what difference can I make’ question; well maybe bloggers like me can fight in the information war because we are numerous, and the Kremlin can’t shut us all down.

But while I am wondering if that sounds a bit up my own arse, Baldwin money has been donated to DEC.org.uk too.

Whilst I/we have to get on with our lives, we can all do something instead of nothing.

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Related posts:
24/02/22 The news is bleak. Time for an epiphany
11/02/22 Look East … And Worry

On 15th February I went back in time, well sort of anyway.

Until the age of nine, I lived in Bletchley, Milton Keynes. Moving to Hitchin in 1980 was a major blow for me. The upheaval and sense of loss was the hardest thing to process in my young life to that point. Losing all my friends and having to move to a completely new primary school was really tough. It didn’t do me any harm in the long-term, but it was difficult at the time.

Having left Bletchley more than 40 years ago, it was fascinating to go back and have a wander through my childhood world.

I walked around Hunter Drive, Celina Close, Tiffany Close, Magenta Close, Cornelia Close, the Lakes Estate and made it to the Blue Lagoon too. I found my old primary school “Eaton Mill”, now the “Premier Academy”, and wandered down Water Eaton Road until I got to the local shops.

A few things surprised me, one was that even after all the elapsed time, I was able to follow my nose and make my way around without getting lost. Another was that my whole world was really rather small, nothing was more than half a mile from my old doorstep.

Some of the street names I had forgotten but reading the name plates instantly brought the memories flooding back.

While some things were different, much of the landscape was unchanged and instantly recognisable. One thing that was very different was a wetland area behind Hunter Drive and before the Barton Road Industrial Estate. When I was a lad, there was a reasonably sized gravel pit where I used to go and catch newts and frogs, forty years later the area is still wet but completely wooded. There wasn’t a single tree in my day, just rushes.
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I took photos as I went to share with my wife and kids, but when I looked at them later, they were just non-descript pictures in a housing estate and they didn’t convey any of the joy I felt when I was taking them.

Because I was young, had no responsibilities and didn’t really have a care in the world, I remember my time in Bletchley with fondness. I hadn’t been back in so long that the whole experience really did feel like time travel. Weird but very pleasing.

Mrs Baldwin totally gets the time travel sentiment. Last October she took our daughter on a road trip to Hull (which is where she grew up) so she could show her all the places that were important in her childhood. Mrs B. returned with similar photos to those I took in Bletchley.

During my wanders I was on my own, the weather was rubbish, and I was wearing the wrong shoes, but I had a really good time nonetheless.

I plan to go back in time again soon and either take the family or see if I can meet up with one of my childhood friends instead.

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On Saturday, I went to Oxford to watch Desert Storm perform the final show of its tour at the O2 Academy. Two gigs in the same week is a first, as is writing about them both. As usual, I won’t repeat the stuff I have written about the band before, all previous posts are shared below if you want to read more.

Given so little time had expired between gigs, you might think there wouldn’t be enough extra insight to be worth sharing in another post. But there is and so here we go again.

But first - do you ever stack the odds against yourself? You know, doing the kinds of things that increase your chance of failure? Not revising for an exam for example, or putting something off when you know you shouldn’t?

Or is it just me?

Pre-Gig

I have been known to sabotage myself on occasion, and Saturday evening started with some procrastination. I knew I should have left the house before 6pm … but the England/Wales Six Nations rugby game was so gripping that I just had to watch it to the end.

Then as I was finally leaving, Mrs Baldwin gave me an errand to run.

So, early into the evening, I was already running late.

Getting to Oxford was relatively straightforward, but parking when I got there was an utter nightmare. I was not familiar with the challenges of parking on/around the Cowley Road but believe me, the parking restrictions are horrible.

Having spent an hour and a quarter getting to Oxford, I spent at least half an hour looking for a space, failing and getting very close to the end of my tether. In the end I parked a mile away from the venue and literally ran to the gig. In steel capped boots and jeans.

I made it to the box office to find that the geezer in the booth had no record of the discounted ticket that had been put aside for me by the band. So I paid full price … and then bumped into Ryan Cole, who was looking a little stressed too. It turned out that Chris White, the lead guitarist, and Elliot, Ryan's brother and the drummer, hadn’t arrived. The band was due to be on stage 15 minutes later.

But Ryan, good guy that he is, accompanied me back to the box office to remonstrate with the sales dude. I subsequently got some money back, which was nice.

It turned out that Chris White, who was travelling with Elliot, couldn’t park his car either. They made it just in time and Chris was as cross as I was with the impossible parking conditions.

You might think that the comedy of errors was over by this point, but no. There was more stupid to come.   
  
I had never been to the O2 Academy before, so having got my ticket I wandered into the venue. It was absolutely packed with twenty somethings. That felt all wrong for starters.

And then my alarm bells started to ring when a band started playing. It was emo (or emotive) pop/punk/metal. That felt all wrong too.

So, surrounded by youngsters singing along and bouncing up and down to this Avril Lavigne looking singer, I got my phone out and logged on to the Academy’s website. Listed for the evening was the Black Parade.

It was then clear to me that whilst I was in the right venue, I was in the wrong place. Doh!

I left the hall and then found some stairs that took me up to the second floor. And yes, it turned out that the Academy can host more than one gig at the same time.

Fortunately, I made it upstairs in time to not miss the Desert Storm set. The fellas were tuning up as I made it into the correct environment. By this point I had of course completely missed all the support bands.

Already I am more than 600 words into this post and the band has barely had a mention so far. I’ll get on with part two of the post now, thanks for bearing with me so far.

The Gig
​
The Tuesday night gig at The Craufurd Arms was lightly attended and what a difference four days (and plenty of notice) had made. This place was lively, full of fans and the sense of anticipation was palpable. Chris White, absent at Wolverton, was in his rightful place on stage.

I got myself a position close to the front of it, and then band launched into its set. Behind me a decent and energetic mosh pit formed immediately and stayed operational all the way through the show.

In Wolverton, the chaps had been philosophical, but at Oxford they were thoroughly animated. Matt Ryan was in his element, giving it some, and absolutely loving it.

He was keen to thank the audience for attending because going to gigs is the only way that gig venues will survive.
It’s an aside, but the venue that hosted Deserts Storm’s tenth anniversary, the Cellar, has gone as have others in Oxford. The Craufurd Arms was on the brink during the Covid lockdowns.

The first five songs:
​

• Black Bile
• The Machine
• Vengeful Gods
• Master Of None – new, unreleased
• Mr Strongbatch

Like my blog post, the Desert Storm set was split into two parts. The reason for the split was to reflect a real-life separation. Chris Benoist, the long-term bass player left the band a short while ago. Matt Dennett was recruited as his replacement.
 
The tour to celebrate the band’s 15-year anniversary was a great way to introduce Matt D. and also give Chris B. a bit of a send-off and thank him for all his years of loyal service. Oxford is the band’s home turf and Saturday’s gig was the last date of the tour. There was no better time/place to celebrate.

Matt D. performed the first half of the set. In a gap between songs, I had a quick word with Chris B. and asked him if watching his band playing without him was odd. I thinking the response was ‘yeah, bloody weird’.

Over the years I got to know the guys in the band, at least to chat to easily, but Chris Benoist was always the one I talked to the least. There was no particular reason for that, it was just what it was. When the second part of the set was announced by Matt Ryan and Chris was called to the stage, I actually learned how to pronounce his surname for the first time. What I thought was ‘Ben O Ist’ is actually ‘Ben Noir’. French ancestry apparently. Every day is a school day.

The second five songs:

• Shadow Of An Eagle
• Queen Reefer
• Kingdom Of Horns
• Titan
• Enslaved In The Icy Tundra (my favourite track of the night … again)

​It was clear to see that Chris Benoist loved his time on stage, he played flawlessly and with obvious enthusiasm. I thought he looked great, totally at home and in his proper place.

I know that stuff happens and priorities change, leaving was his choice; but once the adrenaline hit was over, I wondered if he might have felt a bit sad that his Desert Storm era was at an end. I felt sad for him anyway.

After ‘Enslaved’, the fans were cheering for another song, the band would have played one too, but the venue turned the mics off, so that was that.

Although it wasn’t for me. I got to chat to the guys and in particular enjoy the company of Chris White. One of the things we have in common is the appreciation of Formula One. Once we expressed our joint frustrations about the challenges of parking, we got on to Lewis Hamilton. I wrote a while ago that I thought he had been robbed of the 2021 drivers’ championship and Chris was in firm agreement. If anything, he was more cross about it than me. We both agreed that the way Hamilton had dealt with the affair was extremely dignified.

Matt Ryan meanwhile was selling merchandise and even sorting out signatures on CDs for fans. You can’t fault the front man’s commitment.

I was asked if I’d like to go to the after-show party, which was nice, but I don’t know Oxford very well and didn’t know the pub that the guys were heading to.

So apart from running the mile back to my car, part two of my evening was over.

And ‘two’ got me thinking:
​

• Not seen the band for two years
• Then two Desert Storm gigs in a week
• This one at the Oh Two Academy
• Two-part set
• Two-part post
• Two bass players
• Two miles run
• And today is March two

Too much … yeah probably a bit weird, I’ll stop now

Aside from making it clear that it was a great gig and a chance for the band to end its tour on a real high. The place was buzzing, and I am pleased I made it. Just.  

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Previous relevant 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
25/02/22 Desert Storm Tour Diversions

18/12/21 Hamiltion Was Robbed