countlessly morning by Simon Aulman

The most recent gig I went to back in January was dire and embarrassing and was the first time that I have ever been called-out for talking while the musician was also talking. Lamely, I shouted Fuck Off, and walked out of the venue, only later realising that it was indeed me who had "fucked off". And possibly fucked-off for good.

Lack of gigs is only one of many reasons why I have enjoyed these lockdowns and restrictions. All of my friends and relatives have to some degree gone a bit doolally during the pandemic - a couple have pretty much totally gone to pieces. I am sorry to sound conceited, but I am the only person I know who has thrived during this year. I actually felt a very slight sense of bereavement when I heard that an effective vaccine had been invented and that there was/is now "light at the end of the tunnel".

For me it means the end of quietness, the end of peace and austere routines. It means that soon I shall again be subjected to the innumerable agonies of tedium as friends once again drone on for hours and hours about their foreign holidays. And I shall be coaxed to start going to gigs again - again to be subjected to humdrum musos talking between their songs and milking the nervous forced laughter of their pathetic audience as they say something staggeringly unfunny. Whereas I of course have masses of funny things to say - and must be silent.

I shall miss the quiet restaurants too. Yesterday my girlfriend and I, temporarily now married and living together (apparently) as one household, had lunch at the New Forest Inn in Emery Down, and being one of only about four occupied tables it was the first taste of what might be a tolerable Christmas. My last. But maybe not. The thought of ever again living with someone or getting married is too awful. As we all know, once we've tried it once.

The only downside of the pandemic for me has been that it's made me reluctant to drive off to distant coastlines and live in my van until I get bored - often only a question of hours. But occasionally, if the parking is good and the local supermarket cafe friendly, days or even a week. The photo above is my van today in one of my favourite (admittedly not coastal) locations - the nearby Petersfinger Park & Ride car park on the outskirts of Salisbury.

Free and large and without any pressure, it is an easy walk into the centre of Salisbury. One of my more favoured local towns. Like everyone, I judge towns solely on the quality of their charity shops. Intriguingly, though it is very hard to see, on the roof of the van is the two-litre empty plastic milk carton which I pee in - overnight, and during the daytime too. More than once I have left a friend's house and returned to my van ostensibly "to get something" but in fact to have a quick pee - finding peeing in my van far more congenial than peeing in other people's homes. It is one of my quirks.

Recently I was addicted to van-life Youtubes full of cheerful young Australians and Americans who have created a miniaturised version of their home, but on wheels - containing wardrobes and kitchens and a small library and a shower etc. Me - all I think you really need is a mattress and a loo-bottle. Everything else can be done in cafes and launderettes and swimming pools and libraries.

Soon the planes will start flying again over my tiny garden, sending my friends off to have their dull "adventures" all in the name of broadening their cultural horizons but in reality still pissing in other people's misery, same as all travel is for. And I am guilty too - pouring my piss out in the hedge at the end of cold car parks and smiling at the occupants of neighbouring cars.

My outpouring of what must be poured out continues with this ""release"". The 2nd track is the original track, and it is very poor indeed - phasers on stun, and something suitable for Michael Caine in that metal box in the Ipcress File. But I later returned to the original and turned down the phaser-thingy, and the result is the first track - which is much much better. I won't say "good". That would leave me with nothing left to do. And I thank fuck that even during these peaceful months there has always been plenty.