raling by Simon Aulman

This is an extended and slightly brutalist version of Hotel Jawhara (1972) by Kirsten Svuure.

Yesterday evening I strode on over to Harbour Lights to watch Nitram. On the way there there was the two-day-delay as the ten-mile-long car-transporter train from/to Birmingham crossed Canute Road at one mph and stops the traffic for five light-years in all directions, and we all stand around pretending to be annoyed by it, because that is how we feel we should appear, but really I think we're all thrilled, and these experiences never become humdrum.

I'd never heard of the woman who died of bowel cancer a day or two ago, until after she'd died. But listening to the Times podcast about her early this morning I was very moved by all the humdrum cliches that she and her friends came out with, cliches that can never be humdrum, because she was and they are right, life is all there is, and it is wonderful - and even though on paper today should be a bad day for me, it's still a thrilling adventure, and it always will be, until it's my turn.

As for the film "Nitram", its "problem" is that we have to spend 2 hours in the company of a man who is charmless and obnoxious - but as with "Elvis", it's a grower - at the beginning I thought I'd not hang around till the end, but at the end I wanted it all to begin again, just like that woman who died.

This album is obviously too long. But no it's not a loop of the same few minutes over and over - but even a varied piece of music or a varied life isn't necessarily any better than the alternative. Or that's how I feel today during this rather samey period of life.

recorded this week, photo southampton yesterday evening