If the last week was a tag cloud it would look a bit like this, I reckon:

redundancy ANGER Life Affirmation worry BEN and JERRY'S CHOCOLATE FUDGE BROWNIE slow down the bpm Jump the Shark CROWS insomnia BEREAVEMENT birthday Risotto BUTTERFLIES music LEAK piracy TAXES

It's been a sackful of weasels, veritably.

First off, Jo got told that her job was 'at risk' [i.e. she'll be losing it unless she's prepared to fall halfway down the corporate ladder and forego all of the expertise she's spent the last 5 years assiduously building up]. Whatever happens, she'll more than likely end up working until October... but after that, who knows?

Her department has been shut down.

She'll get torn away from her work colleagues and friends.

And, we have the uncertainty and anxiety to deal with until we know exactly what will happen.

We're waiting for the Dunkerque spirit to kick in.

No sign, yet - but we'll get there. It's hard to cry for bankers, I know. Especially ones who are married to gobshite radio presenters. We don't want anyone's tears, but I do want it to be a matter of public record that I am seething at the utter retardation of the government and the banking sector for allowing matters to get to this point. But what really galls me is that my taxes have been used to prop up these greed-mongers, self-appointed Masters of the Universe and selfish incompetents. My wife's taxes have been used to help Lloyds TSB buy out Halifax Bank of Scotland, then used to pay more jumped-up monkeys in suits to SACK HER and her diligent colleagues. Irony is too small a word to do this justice.

All for the sake of share prices and profit.

The whole damn wheel of fire got lit and pushed down the hill again without any of our say so. And it's aimed for the same lake full of shit in the bottom of the valley.

My night time hours have been filled with this kind of ire, this sense of injustice.

And I've had so little sleep. Most of the last week has been like a ketamine road-trip.

I'm *not* feeling sorry for myself. But I have been livid and I have probably over reacted and got things out of perspective. It's my way.

The ludicrous tax bill that arrived through my letter box on Thursday didn't do much to improve my mood. It's almost like they timed it that way.

I heard some oink defending our democratic, capitalist system by saying that we had the option to vote Labour out at the next election, that's how we would be able to register our displeasure.

The alternatives aren't all that appealing, to be honest.

And whereas I'm sure that Brown, Blair before him, and the most shameless Home Secretary of all time aren't actually Evil with a capital 'E', some of the policies that they have engendered and allowed to proliferate unchecked have ruined people's lives and that, to my mind, is evil. It mightn't breathe sulphurous breath, preach hatred at particular creeds and colours [it's equal opportunities evil], but it has brought pain, misery and - in some cases, no doubt - death to thousands of honest working people.

And greed was at its root.

GREED.

Well, you know, I can be greedy, too. But I reserve my greed for a bit of Ben & Jerry's and not people's livelihoods and souls.

So, why is it that it's me who can't sleep at night?

Argh!

Is there a word beyond sanctimoniousness? I am whatever that word is.

Finally (on this subject): just to maintain my BBC neutrality because, no doubt, some colleague will stumble across this and demand that I remove it [post Ross / Brand we're not allowed to voice much more than vapidity] -- I think all of the parties are equally incompetent. I'm not anti-Labour. I'm anti all of them. But I'm of the belief that these events will shake politics up for the better. The silver-tongued careerist slugs had better watch out. We're back to being interested. As the 2nd homes farrago demonstrates.

Salvation has come in the way of a couple of bands -- music is such an elevating force.

I got to Telfords on Friday night in low-spirits... all of a sudden there is a lot more pressure on these chucked together DJ sets [especially when you consider how badly this mess is affecting bars and clubs]. Fortunately, The Kryptics were a blast of upness sporting melodies like gemstones. They didn't get the audience they deserved. People were up at the bar instead of down in front of the stage (I can't blame them - a very high proportion of Chester's workforce are in financial services - have a bloody drink on me!). But guitars aren't doing too well in Chester, at the moment. I loved The Kryptics, though. A shorter set with a bit more variety, dynamically, would have helped, but I did love them.

They made me want to dig my Buddy Holly records out and play fuzzed up powerchords, a la The Ramones, over the top of them.

Which is, I think, a very good thing.

Saturday included a trip to Piccolino's to celebrate my dad's 65th.

It was lovely family-time.

I love my dad.

He's been through much worse than this and he kept it together, An absolute inspiration.

I was that tired come Saturday evening I could hardly see. But I'd booked Rod Thomas into Telfords and it would have been beyond rude not to turn up, regardless of personal energy levels,

I'm so, so glad I did.

Not only is Rod The Most Personable Gentleman in the United Kingdom [the staff adored him], he has a talent luminous enough to light up the North Pole on midwinter day. His glorious songs, which are - for the most part - unashamedly melodic and accessible soothed away the worries and self indulgences of the previous week.

I was a little concerned when I arrived at the venue to see that he wasn't with a band.

But Rod juggles his acoustic guitar, synth, laptop, loop pedals, tambourine and ukulele so effortlessly and with such aplomb that you're convinced there's an invisible band up there, somewhere, playing perfectly in thrall and service to these great, great songs.

Or, as Brad from Gallops put it (kind enough to put Rod up for a couple of nights), "Clever bastard!"

Yes, you got that right. And I stole the "juggling" analogy of Brad's girlfriend.

So I drank a little too much and talked more bollocks than the bin at a bullock farm, but I had been healed by music. I mean, it would have been far more important for Jo to have benefited, but the truth is that she is less prone to melodrama than I am. She's strong. I'm in awe of her.

I do hope she doesn't, ever, hear what I said about her at the end of my interview with Andrew Falkous on last night's show.

It's okay, she never reads these.

She lives with me. You wouldn't want double exposure.

Last night's show was really interesting, I think. I'll do a full, sell-my-soul spam-fest about it tomorrow morning. It featured Camera in session, words of wisdom from legendary house DJ Graeme Park, Andrew Falkous from Future of the Left talking about their album leak, Akira the Don's monthly blog, Huw on Yemm & the Yemen, Soundhog on excellent, early Simple Minds, a Demo of the Week from Prestatyn's 4 Sticks -- it was tremendous fun.

Here's the link:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00k70bq/Adam_Walton_03_05_2009

I'm sure I've forgotten something.

Hmmm.

Ah, yes -- please read Falko's blog on the Future of the Left album leak at:

Jim Fork

It brings home, better than anything else I've read on the subject, the effect that music piracy has on bands -- not the stadium-gobbling bombastodons, but the interesting bands a lot of us profess to love.

Have an excellent week!
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