I'm a web sherpa, family man, pirate impersonator and this be my blog.

I’m writing this long overdue post from my hammock in the corner of the garden.

It’s my retreat from a hectic family life and a placebo for everyday existential aches and pains. I guess that everyone has their own little hideyholes where they like to retreat from the everyday noise and restore the signal strength of their own thoughts.

The desire for occasional solitude has been a constant throughout my life. I’ve always been quite content with my own company which probably comes from being an only child and a bit of a dreamer to boot. Now that I have kids of my own, I especially love watching them playing unawares, reliving my own childhood obsessions of comic books, Star Wars figures and generally reconfiguring the world through imagination.

It’s never been more important to have a mental escape than now, as decisions mount up like so many unpaid bills and electronic distractions nibble away at the edges of daily life. If you have a couple of stout trees that can support your weight, I recommend you string a hammock between and grab some M.E. time.

Yes, in honour of the cheaply made entertainment format for the attentively-challenged that has dominated the Christmas TV schedules, here is my list of the top ten lists of the last decade.

1. FBI Ten Most Wanted Fugitives
   Osama went from rank outsider to racking up more years in a top 10 than Elvis.
2. IMDb Bottom 100 Movies
   Were there more shit movies created in the noughties than any other decade?
3. World’s richest billionaires
   America continued to be the best at creating individually-owned wealth.
4. Blair In his own words
   Politician of the decade? Let the man be judged by posterity and his own words.
5. The Nag: things you can do to make the world a better place
   Simple actions that even the laziest person can take to alleviating our hangover from 10 years of over indulgence.
6. Jamie Oliver’s top British classics
   TV chefs dominated popular culture but apart from a few notable exceptions, few will stay the course into the next decade.
7. John Motson’s top 10 football moments
   Some great footballing moments, some might say the best decade ever.
8. Holy Moly’s most papped and most slapped
   The decade saw the rise and rise of celebrity for celebrity’s sake
9. The Doomsday List
   The end of the world is an embarrassing fiction for some but Hollywood gold for others.
10. My top 10 video games
    Videogames exploded in popularity but turned me into a curmudgeonly old nostalgist.

That’s 10 in top 10 – at last!

I thought it would be interesting to see the tweets that I have favourited in 2009 and pick a top 10 list to make up the numbers in my under used top 10 category.

They are mostly just random, humorous observations by friends and acquaintances, only some of whom I have actually met, with a few from the odd famous person and one of my own as twitter is after all, all about the royal me.

I think the examples demonstrate what I like most about twitter, that it is – to paraphrase John Maeda (a favourite tweeter but not featured herein) – a tool for creating an RSS feed of the collective subconscious. Having said that, none of these tweets are quite as funny or as inspiring as when I first read them but then again, I guess I had to be there.

Here’s the list in reverse chronological order:

nickpadmore
On the train this morning, I sat next to a man who kept licking his hands.

skinnermike
it amazes me that my heart has not stopped beating for my whole life. years and years of reliably life sustaining spasm. i heart my heart

misterkeg
Wow. Unpacking, found a box of old things: Kanji flash card, photo of my late father, empty box of Citalopram, pack of bath crayons.

johnshuttlewrth
sunday is a day of rest, but it can also be punctuated with DIY tasks if required.

mr_mr
Just talked to a lovely lady on the bus home about cod, bit bizzarre but also really nice.

apolaine
Flying by Ryanair is like being pick-pocketed and punched in the face every 5 minutes and paying for the privilege.

chloealper
Please tell me this is a joke.I think somone’s about to peel & eat a boiled egg while sitting next to me on THE most crowded bus in history

choobs
OMG! Orange Stupid is ‘fixing’ an iPhone with a Stanley knife! (Spoon 2 for anyone who’s interested)

alex_young
Does anyone else love shopping for stationary?

stuartcurran
Obama I love you but we only have 4 years to save the Earth

Every day after school, Noah can be found sitting on our doorstep in the lotus position.

We’ve no idea why he does this and he hasn’t offered an explanation. He’s only 4 and hasn’t shown any signs of being particularly spiritual nor have we had any Tibetan tourists dropping by, looking for the new incarnation of their spiritual leader.

Way back in 1997, I went to the Sensation exhibition that featured the YBAs, many of whom are now BEMs.

This was the famous exhibition that had Damien Hirst’s “pickled shark with pretentious title”, Tracy Emin’s “cant be arsed bed” and that massive picture of Myra Hyndley that provided provided such great target practice for sensitive egg throwers.

Despite all the now infamous detritus of Charles Saatchi’s spare room that was present at the exhibition, only one bit of art moved me and has lodged in my head ever since. This was a painting entitled “Blue Minotaur” by the now largely forgotten artist, Richard Patterson.

I remembered this the other day whilst browsing through some of my Flickr pics and finding this particular favourite:

I remember posing Upgrade, one of Noah’s Ben 10 figures, by the window of the conservatory in a very deliberate way to try and achieve a melancholic effect – that very specific kind of ennui you can only get from the image of a small plastic figurine looking through some double glazing.

In my lame attempt to be a but arty, and further handicapped by being quite shit at photography, I was trying to recreate the painting I had seen hanging on the wall in the Royal Academy of Art over 10 years ago.

After revisiting this photo on Flickr, I decided to try and locate a copy of the painting online and I was quite surprised how hard it was to track down. I couldn’t remember the name of the painting or the artist and ended up Googling all the Sensation artists one by one. Eventually I found a low res copy on the website of the gallery in which it now resides:

Despite the fact that I often remember things as being better than they actually were, I wasn’t disappointed with the Minotaur when we met once again. It’s an oddly affecting picture and of course the great thing about Googling is that you end up coming away with a whole bunch of new facts you never knew like the fact that this painting was in turn inspired by another much older painting, The Minotaur by George Frederic Watts:

In Greek mythology the Minotaur, half-man, half-bull, was appeased by annual human sacrifices. Every year, seven youths and seven virgins were shipped from mainland Athens to the Island of Crete to be devoured by the monster. In Watts’s painting, the Minotaur leans out across the sea from a high parapet in anticipation of the ship’s arrival.

Watts’ painting of the Minotaur was intended “to hold up to detestation the bestial and brutal” wheras Patterson’s version is “a profound meditation on postmodernity and the heroic tradition“. Ah well, times change but one phrase still holds true “I don’t know anything about art, but I know what I like“.

Inspired by Mike Figgis’s ground breaking film ‘Time Code’, the Super Furry Animals have documented the process of mixing their new album in glorious split screen digital video. In 21 webisodes we are promised “a celebration of the banal nature of the mixing process”.

‘Ah! Greetings friends, join us for the next few weeks as we finish up our new album for your ears. We have borrowed 4 video cameras from friends and family and we will document events as they unfold, hopefully with as little drama as possible.’ The Film Council of SFA.’

Content-wise this is probably something for the fans only (of which I am one) but creatively it once again shows what can be achieved with a playful mind and some ubiquitous technology, something the Furries have always been great at.

I last saw SFA in concert when they played a small nightclub in Bridgwater to promote the Love Kraft album. They played a great set and ended it in spectacular fashion with a venomous version of The Man Don’t Give a Fuck, my favourite SFA track.

What impressed my most though was the the closing credits they had put together for the show. This consisted of backstage footage shot on handheld digital cameras with cinematic titles added and the whole thing back projected onto the stage behind them. It was a really nice touch but it got even better!

They finished the list of on screen “thank yous” with a final thanks to “you, the good people of Bridgwater”. This kicked off a roughly edited hi-speed outro sequence of them touring the local spots of Bridgwater, footage that must have been shot that same day.

This was an amazingly simple idea that really personalised the whole gig for the audience and ensured that it remained indelibly stamped on their minds. I’ve never been back to Bridgewater since but it remains a shrine to a fantastic night in the company of one of the world’s most interesting bands and the complete antithesis of the sort of corporate rock experience you might expect from U2 at the O2.

I was planning to write about my New Year’s resolutions as a follow up to previous Xmas post but decided that resolutions are just an agnostic version of the same baloney we tout at Xmas with all that peace and goodwill to all men.

(I actually edited out several swear words from the preceding sentence so resolutions or not, I can’t quite escape my desire to improve myself much as it pains me.)

Also, resolutions seem a bit daft when when the mood of the times is one of of “wait and see what shit befalls us next”. No one is able to take any long term commitment seriously until they know how bad things will get. (Worst recession for 50 years – whoah, didn’t see that coming.)

Be that as it may, I still can’t help feel a perverse optimism at work, in my own life and the world around me. It’s like that hysterical period after a loved one has died when you feel as high as a kite just for being alive, all the time knowing you are going to crash when the endorphins run their course.

So while the mood is with me, I thought I should commit to screen those thoughts that are craving resolution.

I will start my own “thing”. Business seems to limiting a notion, hence thing. I know I have the ability to make money off the back of my knowledge, intuition and experience.

I need to educate myself further. I love learning and lazy, impatient as I am, I accept that structure is what I need to find fulfillment.

I must come to terms with my failings. I’m too self contained and secure in the knowledge that my own conscience will give me an easy ride not matter what I have done.

I’ll stop. Stop the envy, paranoia and all that negative shit at a moment’s notice in response to this hypnotic keyword that I am programming myself with right now: “Daddy”.

Happy 2009, here’s to world we make for ourselves.

… and what have I done? Rather than summarise my Christmas in 25 words like I did last year, I thought I might write at length this year and break the habit of twittering my thoughts these days.

Leaving aside the build up to Christmas which I scarcely noticed, going to work on Christmas Eve was probably the official start. I never really caught the Christmas spirit this year – I’m 25% grumpier than this time last year I reckon, probably down to work/life imbalance. Plus, for the first time I can recall, I was actually working on Christmas Eve – probably not a good sign in hindsight. The trains were nice and empty though.

Walking through the City of London and seeing loads of kids going to work with their parents was a nice moment. Got me me thinking about what would happen if we put kids in charge of the economy, I mean they couldn’t make anymore of a mess of it, right? At the very least they would know that actual marbles are worth more the promise of marbles and not to trust sums that they can’t understand.

I’m content to experience Christmas through the kids these days. Maisie is 8 years old now and delicately poised between her childish beliefs and wanting to be more of a grown up. This balancing act in her mind was encapsulated in the letter she wrote to Santa asking him all sorts of proper journo questions like “Do you mind when people dress up and pretend to be you?” and “Do you and Mrs Claus give each other presents?”. This Christmas may have been the last time we were able to suspend her belief in Santa Claus so twas a bit tense the night before, trying to inject the right amount of believability into answers on Santa’s behalf.

I guess it could be argued that Santa is real though, at least insofar as he is an inhabitant of the third world of our collective unconscious. Maybe I can keep the show on the road a bit longer if I introduce some analytical philosophy around age 9.

On the other hand, Noah, our 3 year old, was experiencing Christmas fully for the first time in all it’s chocolate-covered, present-wrapped glory. We were on the move constantly for the first few days – at home then in London on Christmas Day evening, up in Scotland with my Mum on Boxing Day. As a result he experienced three sessions of present opening in 48 hours. We are a bit worried this may have set his future expectations a bit high. At least he has been properly inducted into the commercialisation of Christmas though.

The Borders where my mum lives was looking really beautiful this year, all frost covered fields and a mist wrapped mountains, pin point sharp in the low winter sun. I was really happy just driving around making the most of the small windows of daylight to get the full aesthetic impact. We also went up to Edinburgh for a day to visit old friends and new babies and took the kids to the Winter Gardens on Princes Street. Noah and I went on the big wheel right next to Scott’s Monument and I got a fantastic view of the city and the monument itself. I have always fantasised about it being some kind of gothic spacecraft and watching it lift off into the sky.

I did pretty well out of Christmas myself and got a nice spread of presents. The gadget: an Olympus digital voice recorder. The books: The Rest is Noise and What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. The booze: a bottle of Disaronno, my favourite liqueur. I’ve yet to use the gadget or read the books but most of the booze has gone from drinking Amaretto cocktails on New Year’s Eve. Ah well, it comes but once a year.

Sometimes I don’t so much wallow in nostalgia as dive to the bottom to retrieve the brick (of nostalgia).

Case in point, this evening I’m listening to some tunes that formed the soundtrack of my life 15 years ago. A trip to Belgium on a euro coach, Xmas, 1993, accompanied by a compilation of european trance music. I distinctly remember arriving in Brussels listening to “Midnight in Europe” by 030 (it was actually about 7am in the morning but no matter) and thinking this was one of the most modern experiences I had ever had.

Battlefields, beer and boredom interspersed with my first trip to Amsterdam to get legally wasted and spending New Year in one of the least lively cities in Europe. Fantastic!

Meanwhile, Noah and Maisie are playing some sort of game where the house is a spaceship, something I used to love doing as a kid (the downstairs bathroom was always the space lab).

If I’m not careful, I might not resurface – it’s too much fun down here. Up there it’s all death and taxes. But the kids need to get to bed and I need a reality check so up I go.

I was lucky enough to witness the inaugural outing of a Dinobot today on the streets of Shoreditch.

Newly hatched from it’s workshop and ridden by an inferior carbon-based lifeform, the Dinobot made it’s way tentatively up an an alley before turning back and crossing the high street to it’s lair, avoiding natural predators such as whitevans along the way.