Have never really got on with this recorder – the gain seems to have a mind of its own and plops on as  much hiss as it sees fit. But it has other idiodsyncracies and erratic tendencies that keep making me pick it up again.

Nature is lovely. But nature is also brutal and harsh. 

And to be out in it is wonderful and frightening. It is to feel your significance and your insignificance at once and to wonder at it all.

We should all do it more.

I’m not here, 

I’m here.

Bike slowly rolling down the hill 

Watching the yellow changing, golden changing fields 

and it’s bales and it’s bright blue cloud dotted backdrop

and it’s stick figures. 

I’m smiling at summer’s last swallows 

Waving at cats lazing in driveways

Laughing down roads marked ‘unsuitable to motor vehicles’

Eating sandwiches on hilltops, by fence posts, on stiles.

In short – I’m not here. 

I’m here.


The night I found out, I went and sat on the bed and fumbled through some songs to myself – stuff off of ‘Ziggy’ and ‘Hunky Dory’. I’m acutely aware of the influence he had, not just directly upon me but on so much of the music that I listened to growing up. And how I would dress up. As for this song – I have always loved it but this version is so alive. He looks so happy and he is throwing so much of himself into it. It’s a treasure to behold.