Clearing Out The Attic

I've spent a few hours deleting old emails- thousands of them. It is a very similar feeling to clearing out the attic (which is the next job); it's very common to be a tech hoarder, partly out of laziness and partly out of fear of letting go of the past.

Looking at the subject headers provides a weird summary of the past twenty years: one dismal narrative line contrasting with another, bracing and positive. At times like this (between times) life slumps a little: when you've just done something really nice, going back to normal can feel dull. But without refuelling, I know the next journey can't happen. The old emails feel like a pair of shoes I've outgrown. I will stand taller without them.

What an interesting year it has been! The busiest January for years, taking a punt on a cold winter gig at The Waiting Room with a 'what is everyone going to do with their ten-minute slot' anxiety. It turned into one of those nights that you'd never be able to repeat. It was so similar to the things that me and Lester Square used to put on years ago, taking a big risk and hoping for the best; it was all the more touching for the fact that he was actually there, reading his very funny poetry. Then in February, playing with The Would-Be-Goods and Railcard, an energetic and hearty evening for all concerned, and the bijou gig in Hythe for the Folkestone Songwriting Festival. And more!

The surprising-est surprise was not only being given the Jan Lewis Memorial award, but selling the work I submitted. It's fired me up to do more, and in Valencia I found some embroidery thread at the market that will kick-start more embroidery. I should get more patches done, too: I hope I haven't deleted the email from the company in Scotland that made the original one.

Normally, March is busy and so is May, but this year has been a mirror image of that. While I was away in Spain I began another song. I'm writing about a previously-invisible part of my life. Perhaps nobody will be interested, but how can I know until I've done it? I'm not a focus-group song writer; I don't work to a template. That's a job for artificial intelligence, and mine (what there is of it) is real with a mixture of structure, randomness and creative motoring that has to mean something to me before anyone else gets to hear it. 

It's rather ironic to write this while slobbing on the sofa with an empty tea mug, but it's quiet and I can hear people pottering around with vans on the street outside. Funny the difference sunshine makes to the detail of sound. Have you noticed that?