shepherding

Freefall: the star

Saturday night's gig was at a pub called The Star, in a village called Wotton-Under-Edge. My brother, our usual bassist, is away on holiday, visiting his wife's family in Indonesia, so Sophie stood in for him on bass.

Likewise, our regular drummer Bean was otherwise engaged, so we had Leah on drums again. Although as Leah covered close to half our gigs for Bean last year, I think it's fair to say she's less of a sub, and more our "other drummer". We certainly think of her as part of the band these days.

The Star has been a pub since 1572. It was apparently the inspiration behind the name of the White Star shipping line, of Titanic fame. The founder of the latter, which was, apparently, originally a Canadian timber company called White Star before the profits of that company were used to found the White Star Line, was the son of the pub's landlord, and named his fledgling timber company after his father's pub. 

According to the pub's website, at least. 

It was a busy night. Like most old buildings, the Star feels split into lots of small spaces, rather than one voluminous room with a bar at the end, which would be far more practical for a venue. So the crowd was very up close and personal, with me literally singing into their faces, and them, occasionally, falling over the foldback and inadvertently joining us on what passed for the stage.

My favourite kind of gig, if I'm honest. Hopefully, we'll be back there again later this year.

a dog, her ball, and a pretty sunset

the perils of spam

Well, that was fun.

Appears I've not been receiving email since some time on 2nd Feb. Which made for a quiet weekend.

The problem was relatively simple. My (now previous) domain name registrar (123reg.com) apparently decided a while back that they'd no longer support mail fowarding with their domain name registrations. Apparently they emailed me a number of times in the period since to advise that this was going to happen and that I'd have to subscribe to one of their "professional mailbox" packages.

I'm guessing all these advisory emails went straight into my Gmail spam folder.

So not being aware of any of this, I called them to find out what was going on. The usual automated "we're experiencing an unusual amount of calls" message advised that I was going to have a while to sit and cool my heels on hold. However, and I love them for this, the bot voice then advised that if I'd prefer to hold without holding music, then "press hash or pound sign now".

Which I duly did. It was, as warned, a very long wait, but otherwise painless.

For that alone I'd have stayed with them forever, despite the massive delay in getting through; I'm guessing I'm not the only one that got caught out by the removal of their mail forwarding service. 

However, to stay with them they wanted just over £70 a year if I wanted to continue to enjoy mail forwarding for the two domains I apparently had with them (personal and band). Plus the annual subscription for them to continue hosting those two domains (my personal .co.uk one is cheap as chips, but the band's .uk.net domain is not)

On the other hand, Freeola hosts the band's website and, it turns out, I'd already transferred the band's domain name over to their registrar GetDotted last August so that I could take advantage of their free SSL security certificate for the band's site. This lets it use https and so avoids all sorts of "there be dragons here and your data is unsafe" warnings browsers typically give if you try to access a website using an unsecured http address. 

However, despite transferring the domain from 123reg to GetDotted last year, 123reg still thought they had it the band's domain name, so that resulted in a second call to their helpdesk, and another correspondingly long wait before all that could get sorted.

GetDotted include mail forwarding with the domain name registration. So I've now transferred my personal email domain to them, which was a pretty painless process. At £6 per year vs approximately £47 per year to keep the same service with 123Reg, it was the proverbial no-brainer. 

Anyway, my email is back up and receiving again. A frustrating morning. But still, despite the frustration, very impressed by 123reg's "Please press hash or pound sign now" option to kill the holding music. Shame they priced themselves out of my business.

And that was January

It's been a lethargic start to the year. It began, as all years do, at 0000 in the big hall in Churchdown Community Centre following me counting down the final ten seconds of the last, wishing the crowd Happy New Year and then singing Auld Lang Syne with them. Followed by a cover of Green Day's Good Riddance, as the band re-joined me on the stage.

It was the 59th gig of 2024. Which made for a busy year with the band, and got a lot in the way of sailing with Petrella. The weather last year didn't help much either though, to be fair. Nor my work commitments. Still have to pay the bills somehow.

My ambition is to book fewer gigs this year. Ideally, I'd like about 40. However, we're currently up to 44 in the diary. I'm just not very good at saying no. I do sometimes wonder why. As far as the band is concerned, I have nothing left to prove to myself and I don't need the money the gigs bring in. It's never been much but it was once quite useful. 

The time commitment is a big constraint and the relationship management of being in a band can sometimes feel like your in a second, polyamorous marriage; an occasionally very dysfunctional and fractious one. All the quirks and none of the perks.

But I enjoy the gig. I do it because I love it. I'm not sure I could easily give that up. There were points during December (particularly during the more fractious moments of that previously mentioned dysfunctional relationship) when I did seriously think about it though. Which is something of a first.

The irony however, is that if I did actually quit the band, within a month or two I reckon I'd only start another one. I don't think I'd be able to help myself. So better the devil you know.

And I'll try to be a little more conservative with the bookings. I do have a couple of weekends scored out of the 2025 diary as "sailing" each month. I've so far managed to keep them clear. Most of them, anyway. Well, some at least.

Nikki and I did spend the first weekend of the year aboard Petrella. It was our 29th wedding anniversary, so it was nice to get away. Weather was too grim to sail; cold, wet, and very windy. But she's a cosy boat with the cockpit tent up and the heating on below. We took a Saturday day trip out to Newquay (not sure I'd recommend it on a cold, wet and windy January weekend) and stopped to have a wonder around Bodmin town on the way back (not sure I'd recommend it on any weekend in any weather, but perhaps I'm being a tad unfair)

So not the most exotic of weekend escapes, but it was nice to get some time away together. Next year is our 30th, so if she's still putting up with me by then, perhaps I should think about taking her away somewhere a little warmer and a little more exotic for the weekend. Damned if I can think where though. I think "going away" and immediately picture my boat.

We had a couple of new sofas delivered on 2nd of January. I don't spend a lot of time sitting in front of the TV in the living room, it isn't worth fighting Nik for the TV control and we have very conflicting tastes when it comes to what we like to watch. But they are very comfy sofas, which is good for the odd occasion we do sit down to watch something together. Nik seems very happy with them, and the dogs certainly approve.

I know you shouldn't let dogs on the furnishings, but that's a war I lost years ago. With their mum irrevocably on their side, they had me totally outgunned and out manoeuvred from the start.

Tash and the twins came to stay with us for a couple of days. I'm still a little bitter about the fact that she decided to move so far away with them, so it was lovely to have their company again, if only for a bit. The boys are growing like weeds. Not crawling yet, but rolling and wriggling and smiling and giggling and generally thriving.

The evenings are drawing out again, which is a welcome relief. Winter is the season of dog walks around the local park in the cold and dark, and much as I love a walk, I'm not overly fond of either cold or dark However, this winter the tedium of both has been alleviated somewhat by the company of new friends. Another Lottie (a lovely, gentle eight year old Labrador), the dainty, white livewire that is Addy (a Romanian rescue) and the maverick Frank (another Lab) are the regulars, but we also frequently run with Shadow, Honey, Dobbie, Bandit and Charlie joining us as well. 

They (and, of course, from my point of view the company of their respective owners) have made the winter entirely more bearable. Sam and Boo (my youngest and his dog) have even started to time their own walks to join us. Both are pretty asocial in temperament, but it seems the draw of the pack is irresistible even to them.

Although, technically, no longer January, I did manage to finally get back out on the water this Sunday. Across the last month the weather has been vexing. A couple of wasted trips to the club saw no racing on account of, respectively, a flat calm and a vicious gale. There was a time when neither would necessarily have prevented me from rigging and heading out onto the water anyway, irrespective of whether or not anybody wanted to race me, but this time around I just couldn't gather the necessary enthusiasm.

They, whoever they are, say a bad workman blames his tools. Perhaps a poor sailor blames the weather?

The Sunday before last, seeing that the forecast was suggesting 45 knots or more by lunchtime, I didn't even bother to get out of bed, assuming nobody else would want to race. And I had 35kg of knotted fur and bad breath wanting to snuggle up with me. Her mum had already got up and gone to work, leaving a warm space in the bed especially for her, apparently.

I was wrong. Four boats did get out on the water and had some great sailing before the worsening weather finally forced them back ashore. I should have made the effort. Instead though, I had a rare day off. I can't say I didn't enjoy it.

So this Sunday I forced myself out of bed after only a few hours sleep following a late gig the Saturday night before and headed down to the Club. The forecast didn't look entirely thrilling, about eight knots or so, and cold at 4°C. I'd had a late gig the Saturday night before and so not much sleep, but I think sometimes you've just got to get on and do stuff, or you drop out of the habit and the stuff stops without you really meaning it to.

It was a fair turn out. Blue skies, ruffled waters, a light but consistent wind with the occasional gust. I'd intended to race my Laser, but as I was changing, my friend Vernon was asking around to see if anybody wanted to sail the Solo association's trial boat, currently on loan to the Club.

So I thought why not and graciously accepted the offer. I've briefly sailed one once, many years ago, at the invitation of another friend at Frampton, but not actually raced with a Solo before. It's a very common class at most sailing clubs. A single handed racing dinghy, designed by Jack Holt in 1956 (he co-designed the Mirror dinghy a few years later) it's a very competitive boat with a fully battened mainsail and plenty of sail controls to tweak the sail shape.

It's a very popular boat amongst a certain demographic. I occasionally joke that Laser sailors retire into Solos and I might too, one day. I'm also often beaten on the water in my Laser by Solo sailors twenty or thirty years my senior, so I would argue there's a certain sangfroid to my gentle mockery.

There were five Solos on the start line of each of the two races, my own included, so we made up almost half the the handicap fleet of twelve that had turned out to race. The association Solo is a lovely boat, and a credit to her class. If, as a Class association, you're going to advertise your fleet and try to lure new members into it by letting them try out a boat, then that's the way to do it. A stiff, eighteen month old FRP hull, immaculately appointed and maintained, with continuous control lines for all the controls and a good, crisp mylar sail. Everything worked exactly as it should and she was an absolute dream to sail and race.

The pleasure of having half the fleet sailing the same class of boat as you means that, whatever the conditions, the racing is close and competitive. And the conditions were lovely, a clear blue sky and bright sun made it feel warmer that it probably was and the wind was enough to keep everybody moving well, with gusts enough to have me fully hiked out at times whilst beating up wind.

After a bit of close work for the first half, I eventually pulled ahead in to clear air and won the first race easily. But I was beaten in the second by the Club's Commodore, Blair, in his own Solo, when, on the beat of the last lap, he took back the lead I'd stolen from him in the lap before. He then consolidated his lead over the rest of the lap, gaining about thirty seconds on me and restoring the honour of the South Cerney Solo Fleet in doing so, taking an easy, convincing win. I was beaten down into third place by Nicola in her Aero, losing to her by a mere two seconds on corrected time.

It was a great morning's racing. The Solo is a gorgeous boat. Although I think if I were to spend that kind of money on replacing my Laser (about 10k for a boat of the quality of the one I'd borrowed), I'd probably opt for an Aero.

On the way home from the Club I called Nik to find out what time she expected to finish work, and on discovering she'd already finished and was on the bus on her way into town to buy a birthday present for her Mum, I diverted and met her for a late lunch at Wagamama's. A perfect end to a perfect weekend, all in all.

So that's January done and 2025 well and truly underway. The evenings are drawing out, and if it's not feeling warmer yet, it will soon. The photos accompanying are a random collection of snaps taken across the month. As I said, it feels like it's been a lethargic, slightly fragmented start to the year, but having now reflected back on it a little, I can't say it's been bad.

Merry Christmas

 

Freefall: The Pilot Inn, Hardwicke

Not the most flattering photo I've ever seen of myself, but it made me smile nonetheless. Last night. second gig of a two gig weekend, last gig before Christmas. Both were a bit mad.

Overslept this morning, had meant to go race on the lake. But the wind was gusting 30+ knots. Woke up, saw the trees bending outside, rolled back over to cuddle the dog (who had, apparently replaced my wife after she'd got up to go to work) and went back to topping up the four hours sleep I'd managed before sunrise.

Credit for the photos go to a friend of the drummer, Leah.

Did watch the lake on the webcam over tea and toast once I finally got out of bed. Nobody else launched. Maybe if I'd been there I might've teased somebody into racing against me. On the other hand, I actually think I needed the sleep. Maybe if I hadn't had a couple of gigs this weekend. Or maybe I'm just getting old. There was a time a couple of gigs, gusting 30 knots and 4°c wouldn't have stopped me.

I really do need to get back out on the water again. Missing it badly, and can't help feeling I've let myself down a little.

FOSSC: YouTube - Northbound

If the share button does what it says on the tin, the following should be a YouTube playlist that a friend from my old sailing club at Frampton put together of his adventures this summer just gone. The above is a still from one of the later videos.

If share button doesn't do what it promises, then the link to the playlist is here.

Reuben's around the same age as my eldest son Ben. I remember how as a kid he'd cycle the sixteen mile round trip from Stroud to the club every Sunday to race with the rest of us in his somewhat ratty, beat up old Laser. But the age of the boat and state of its sail didn't stop him from regularly beating us.

I took the above at Frampton on one such an occasion. The photo following was in 2020, when we last crossed paths with him sailing across Falmouth Bay. His is the little boat just off the bow of the cargo ship.

About the time Ben left home for Bristol Uni, Reuben left home and the Club to move to Falmouth for a boat building apprenticeship, and there he designed and built the dinghy he sailed to Norway this summer. We'd bump in to him occasionally when we in the area with Calstar. It's a beautiful little yawl that he built, possibly the only yawl I can think of that has a spinnaker and a trapeze rigged for the helm to hike out on, the idea of which always makes me smile.

So very Reuben. Although I don't think he used it much on his most recent trip.

Freefall: PRS Paul's Guitar in Faded Blue Jean #0371814

She arrived just after lunch. I'm very, very pleased. Lottie was bemused by how long it took me to get it out of the box. It's not as easy as it sounds. Reassuringly, the hard case that came with her seems to weigh more than the guitar itself.

Apparently, the nitrocellulose finish to the maple top is "faded blue jean" which, for some reason, made me chuckle. Seems a bit pretentious for what's essentially a working guitar. But it is undeniably pretty. I've checked back, and the finish to my current PRS is "faded blue".

So when the next person asks me "Why do you need a new guitar" it seems I can't just say it's because I fancied a change in colour. In any case, the honest answer would just be "Because".

She is, in every sense, the big sister to my current PRS. American built in the PRS factory in Maryland, on the shores of Chesapeake Bay, the maple top, mahogany body and neck and rosewood fingerboard are machine cut, but hand finished, and the workmanship is exquisite. 

Because the top of the new guitar has that nitrocellulose finish, rather than the veneer of my current SE model, the carving of the body is deeper and more pronounced, with inset tone and volume controls and switches. It has an elegance that the lines of the SE just can't match.

Which is not to disrespect the old guitar. The SE has been an absolute workhorse and a pleasure to play and perform with. In so many ways she's the more sensible choice for what I actually do with a guitar and the venues I perform at. But what's the point in a midlife crisis if you're going to be sensible?

Anyway, I've now spent a couple of hours plugged in and playing. Quite loud. I have very patient neighbours.

Her first gig will be this coming Friday.

enabler danger

Just got in from a chilly walk around the park with Lottie. She's a pretty dog, I think she has all the colours of autumn in her coat.

Winter is definitely nipping at our heels. We had our first snow last week, which lightly settled for the day with the temperatures around zero C, before melting again as the weather warmed back up over the weekend by a dozen degrees or so and a storm blew through. 

I spent a very wet weekend on the boat with Lottie and Dad. Any of the original ambitions we had of sailing to Fowey for the weekend was made a mockery of by the weather, and we stayed secure in the marina whilst the wet south-westerly blew through over the two days with gusts of up to 50 knots or so.

The boat was very comfortable in the weather, despite the perpetually wet dog aboard with us. The drive down Saturday morning and the drive back Sunday afternoon were less comfortable in the thick rain, but manageable.

The temperatures have fallen back down to around freezing again today. I haven't bothered to look at what they might do for the weekend, as I can't go sailing anyway. I have a gig in Cheltenham Saturday night, and it's my daughter's birthday, so we're taking the family out to lunch on Sunday. It'll be nice to see the grandchildren again, I've quite missed them.

I've had my eye on a new guitar for some weeks or more now. It's more than I should spend and more than I need to spend, given that I have a perfectly lovely guitar that I gig with already, and a very nice collection of other guitars, electric and acoustic.

The algorithms that drive the internet have haunted and taunted me with frequent images over the last month or so. I can't even guess how they work out our interests so keenly, then saturate us with advertising at every turn.

I saw a joke the other day on a site that these afore mentioned algorithms frequently point in my direction. I enjoy the humour of the site, so they're not wrong.

I can confidently inform you from personal experience that it's not twenty eight or twenty nine, either.

The trouble is, it's not just the Internet advertising algorithms that seek to enable me. I mentioned this guitar to Nikki, thinking she'd very quickly put me straight. But I should've known better. I think she gets a rush out of spending money, and I don't think it matters what on.

I mentioned it to the guitarist in my band, Matt, thinking he'd set me right. He's absolutely the best guitarist I know or know of, but he owns two electric guitars. Both exactly the same, except one is silk black, and the other finished with a natural wood appearance. Ironic, as both are actually made out of carbon fibre. He got the first when he was about nineteen, a couple of years after he joined the band, and the second he bought a couple of years later.

So he's had these two guitars quite a while now, as neither of us are nineteen any longer. But no, rather than talking me down, he waxed lyrical about how he'd gone up to the shop in Birmingham with his wife the other weekend to find her a bass, and had seen this guitar himself and had immediately thought of me.

Finally, I mentioned it on a call to my friend and business partner, Will, about an hour ago. By this point, I wasn't so much looking for somebody to talk me down of the ledge, but rather affirm my wayward inclinations. Will's a fellow guitarist, much more technically proficient than me in many ways, though in his case it's for his own pleasure, he's far too committed to his work and family to have time for a band and doesn't perform.

But he does have a fine collection of guitars of his own. In his words, "I've never regretted buying another guitar"; and in truth, neither have I.

It's amazing how few key-presses it takes to commit to spending such a large amount of money on the Internet. Three, in total, I think it took. And the guitar should be with me on Monday. A gorgeous, American built PRS, serial number #0371825.

Far more guitar than I really need or could ever rationally justify. Some men spend their mid-life crisis on a sportscar or motorbike. I refuse to count the boat as such, so instead, this can be mine. Anyway, I'm planning fewer gigs and more sailing next year, but even with that in mind, within a year she should've paid for herself.

the question is

 Will the dog fit?

autumnal (and a rubber dinghy)

I'm not fond of the year growing older, and for the first time in quite some years, feel like we haven't had enough of  a summer to justify the on-rush of winter. But I couldn't help feeling, as I walked Lottie around our local park yesterday evening, that autumn can be ever so pretty.

In other news, I took a trip back to Portishead with Dad the day before yesterday, to pick up a new tender from the chandlery there. A Honwave T25-AE; basically, a 2.5 meter rubber dinghy with an aluminium insert floor.

The idea is to trade the inconvenience of the extra weight involved for the additional stability it should give, and so make Petrella a little more accessible at anchor or on a mooring buoy for the less mobile members of her crew. I'm specifically thinking of Dad, Nikki and, potentially, Lottie. The dinghy's bigger tube diameter and inflatable keel should also make the ride dryer and more comfortable for them.

The chandlery in Portishead was able to source the dinghy for £100 less than I could find it for sale anywhere online, which was a nice change. Always prefer to support a local business if I can.

I've also bought an electric pump, an AIR NRG 6000; this admittedly from an online chandlery. It's not that I mind pumping up the tender manually, but it's a job Dad always insists on doing. Which always draws dirty looks from any boats surrounding: "why is that fit young man sitting there with a beer watching whilst that poor old man does all the heavy work?"

Which, I admit, simply amuses me. Both the idea that being a "fit young man" is only relative to the company I keep when sailing Petrella, and the idea that I have any say in the matter as to who gets to pump the tender up.

In fairness, the electric pump was, I think, his quiet suggestion. Because, as he puts it, pumping up the tender is such a nuisance. Which, of course, it wouldn't be, if only he'd let me do it.

All four of the above photos were taken within the space of about a minute with, of course, the phone in my pocket, on yesterday evening's walk, facing three different directions, the sunset to the left of Lottie, the moonrise over Robinswood Hill to the right. 

I think dusk is my favourite time of day. I just resent the fact that it arrives so early at this time of year.