S*T*U*F*F* Reloaded

My son Luka is one year old today. A year, almost to the minute, since he was born on a cold blustery night up in Paddington. When I try and gauge all that has happened in the days from then until now, I just get so lost and confused I don’t know where I am.

Something is lost, something is found. But of all things along the way, I have realised that I wasn’t ready for the joy he would bring me on an hourly basis. I remember how tough the first six months were - the suicide run - but it was all worth it. Its been amazing.

I read Leo Abrahams’ latest webdiary entry today, and it left me feeling strange… it was such a whirlwind of musical excitement, passion, belief and magic. And it could happen to no nicer (or more talented) person. I got a deep yearning to play music again with passion, but I just can’t find it anywhere. Then all the travel, the flights, the craziness - I used to love that too - but its part of a life that is gone and will never return. I spent the day floating about with my baby son, delighting in him managing to circumnavigate the aquarium of the Horniman Museum by himself (albeit crawling), and drinking in his delight at seeing fish, seahorses and frogs. And enjoying the fact that the air is cold again, crisp, and the sunsets at five o’clock seem ever more beautiful. Things are simple now… I can’t ever imagine touring, playing, being in the studio. But some moments, I wish I could.