Blog – Hello Curns

Daniel’s Husband

A spoiler-light theatre review of Daniel’s Husband, where a cosy dinner party becomes something far more urgent.

I’ve been to see a play. I may as well make this the week of three reviews. My verboseness won’t continue for the year (although I secretly hope it will).

I try to enforce a personal rule — if not a philosophy — when it comes to theatre: the less I know about the plot beforehand, the better. When invited to a performance, I almost never want to know the plot or what the reviewers said. People had said Daniel’s Husband was good, but that’s about it, and I am delighted to have kept to my rule because this play benefits from that lack of pre-knowledge. Not only was I walking into this story completely blind, but it was also my first time visiting the Marylebone Theatre. So the whole thing felt new.

Almost no spoilers here, but stop now if you are going to see it and want the real experience.

Because I knew nothing of the plot, the play’s structure caught me completely off guard. It is very clearly a “play of two halves”. The first act is a witty comedy in which we are invited into the stylish home of Daniel and Mitchell for a dinner party.

If I’m honest, after a while I did wonder if that was it: an evening of light-hearted comedy, with a few intellectual arguments thrown in to amuse — in this case, about the heteronormative state of marriage. It’s light and breezy. Even when ‘mother’ arrives, it’s humorous, if a little awkward.

And then, the shift happens.

The second half is a dramatic illustration of the brutal reality of the legal status of unmarried partners when a crisis hits. It is emotionally quite powerful; laughter subsides, and maybe your heart breaks. It took me a while to process the second part.

The moment the play shifts from scene-setting humour to high-stakes drama is one of the most effective mood changes I’ve seen on stage. This transition is anchored by a monologue delivered by Daniel (Joel Harper-Jackson), perfectly pitched off the back of the first part.

Looking back, it’s clear what’s being set up in the first half. In hindsight, the basis of the conflict that’s so essential for drama becomes obvious, but it is nicely masked in the warm tones of a cosy life.

The cast is flawless across the board. Luke Fetherston is heartbreaking as Mitchell, watching his belief crumble in the face of a cold legal reality. Liza Sadovy, as Daniel’s mother Lydia, is equally brilliant; she starts as the basis for some of the laughs but transforms into a formidable force. I don’t think you can love her; you might hate her, but one of the smart achievements of this play is that you understand her even when you want to scream “no” at her.

I don’t want to spoil the plot, but the message is clear: don’t procrastinate life’s admin.

Review: Palladium Panto 2026

A gloriously smutty, nostalgic spectacle, irresistibly entertaining.

Elaborate theatrical stage set for 'Sleeping Beauty' pantomime illuminated in vibrant pink, purple, and blue lighting, featuring ornate spinning wheels, clock towers, thread spools, gears, and Gothic architectural elements — When Sleeping Beauty’s Castle Gets a Steampunk Makeover

It seems like I am in the mood to write reviews this week. So here comes another one. I do not expect this trend to continue all year.

Sleeping Beauty at the London Palladium – A 10th Anniversary

If you’re heading to the London Palladium expecting a sweet, Disney-fied retelling of Sleeping Beauty, you’ve clearly missed the memo of the last decade. Now in its 10th anniversary year, the Palladium pantomime (this year there’s a Sleeping Beauty plot somewhere) has faced a wave of headlines from outlets like Metro, branding it a “smut-fest” after reports of families walking out. But let’s be honest: if people are still shocked by the innuendo after ten years of this specific brand of comedy, that’s on them. This isn’t just a panto; it’s an institution with a well-established “adults-first” policy. Do your research. I really don’t have much sympathy for people who don’t know what this is. Although I do expect news outlets to run with and embellish this story every year.

What makes this year feel different is how self-referential the show has become. It’s been heading this way for a while, but this year’s opening retrospective is a masterclass in nostalgia, setting a tone that feels less like a fairy tale and more like the series finale of a beloved sitcom. Like the best long-running comedies, the jokes here are funnier because we’ve come to know the characters: we know Nigel Havers will be the charming punching bag, and we know Julian Clary will have a new, increasingly ridiculous entrance, and make a gag about somebody’s hand on it.

This “insider” feel is probably the secret to its enduring appeal for the regulars, but it does make me wonder: what do the newbies think? If you haven’t been along for several of the last nine years of lore, you might feel like you’ve crashed a private party.

Amidst this whirlwind, the show’s ringmaster is Rob Madge as the Diva of Dreams. While the rest of the cast seems content to let the plot drift out of the stage door in favour of sketches, Madge is the one who keeps the show flowing. They act as the essential “glue,” holding onto the limited plot and preventing the evening from devolving into a disjointed series of routines. Madge brings a modern, theatrical energy that bridges the gap between the “old guard” and the new.

The big draw this year is Catherine Tate as the boo-able Carabosse. While she delivers exactly what the crowd wants (including a show-stopping appearance of “Nan”), I had a nagging sense that she is underused. Tate is a comedy powerhouse, yet she often feels relegated to “special guest” status. Between the impressions and the sketches, you can’t help but feel she could have given even more if the script allowed her to go beyond her “greatest hits” reel.

There is no denying that Julian Clary is the heart of this machine. However, this year feels more like “The Julian Clary Show” than a balanced ensemble piece. In years past, the magic came from a heavyweight team; the presence of the late Paul O’Grady, the charm – and songs – of Gary Wilmot, or the triple-threat energy of Charlie Stemp provided a balance that kept the show from relying too heavily on one person. While Clary holds it all together with effortless camp, the absence of those contrasting “anchors” is felt.

Visually, the staging is bigger, better, glitzier, and (probably) more expensive than ever. From the neon sets to the “forest of thorns” in Act 1, the production values are impressive. However, some elements are starting to feel familiar. Paul Zerdin remains a master ventriloquist, but after a decade, his routine lacks “newness.” When a show becomes this self-referential, there’s a fine line between a “classic callback” and just running out of fresh material.

It’s still a 5-star spectacle with heights of staging wizardry. It’s loud, it’s proud, and it’s very, very blue. If you want a plot, go elsewhere. If you want to see the most expensive variety show in London anchored by the King of Innuendo, there’s no better place to be. It helps if you’ve watched the “previous seasons” to get the most out of the jokes.

I loved it (again).

Radio, what’s new?

Despite the rise of streaming and podcasts, traditional radio remains dominant in the UK.

Black Pure One Mini DAB digital radio displaying 'BBC Radio2' and 'Vernon is here' on its screen, positioned next to a spider plant in a modern kitchen with cream tiled splashback and white worktop — A DAB radio in a kitchen. Soulmates?

In my new-year nostalgia haze, I looked back at things I had written on this day (5th January) in years gone by. One post struck me more than the others. Fifteen years ago (2011), I answered a question posed by a Quora contributor: Will 2011 be the year that internet radio will pass traditional radio? By “internet radio”, I mean any kind of radio service listened to via the internet. I, like many others, said no. But I did find myself wondering whether I would answer it differently, all these years later.

The short answer is: no, I wouldn’t. We’re still a little way off the idea that internet radio truly passes traditional radio.

However, before looking at the radio numbers, I think it’s worth setting out a few things — if only so that we can come back in another fifteen years and see how the world has moved on.

According to the BPI, UK recorded music grew for an 11th consecutive year in 2025. For our purposes, streaming made up a record 89.3% of music consumption last year. I mention this simply to underline that streaming is now a real force in our lives, and that the streaming music services are major drivers of audio listening.

Audio consumption is still huge in the UK. Ofcom says that 93% of adults listen to some form of audio content each week, and that there has been growth across all audio streaming. Among younger people, this streaming trend is even more pronounced: 58%, up from 40% in 2019.

So, had the question been framed differently in 2011, I suspect we’d now be saying that most music is consumed via the internet. But music isn’t radio. And in spite of the efforts of Spotify’s AI DJ, and all those blokes with podcasts, the UK is still listening to things we would recognise as radio in 2011.

RAJAR’s autumn 2025 MIDAS survey tells us that around 39% of people listen to on-demand music each week, 24% to podcasts, 21% to music they own, and 10% to audiobooks. Live radio, meanwhile, still reaches a whopping 86% of the UK population every week.

RAJAR also tells us that AM/FM radio now accounts for under 30% of total radio consumption. So we’ve come a long way since 2011, when listening via a digital radio platform accounted for just over a quarter of all listener hours in Q1, with AM/FM making up the remaining 75%.

According to RAJAR, the most-used platform for radio is DAB, accounting for 42% of listening hours. Listening via smart speakers has been rising steadily and now represents 18% of live radio listening, while all online listening — including smart speakers, websites, and apps, and therefore what I am classing as “internet radio” — now makes up 28% of total listening.

So, fifteen years on, in the UK, internet radio’s share of all radio listening still sits below 30%. It is now more or less level with AM/FM, but DAB listening — which remains a remarkably convenient box with a simple, immediate, on-off button and no app to navigate — is the clear majority.

We still have some way to go before it becomes the year of truly connected radio, but the direction of travel is obvious. Come back in fifteen years for an update.

Weeknotes #154: here comes another one (year, that is)

A gentle, celebratory start to the year, filled with shared rituals.

Week commencing Monday, 29 December 2025

Distorted fisheye reflection in a gold Christmas tree bauble showing a person holding a phone taking a selfie, with Battersea Power Station's iconic chimneys and blue sky visible in the curved reflection, framed by green pine needles — Battersea Power Station captured in spherical festive form.

Quantified Self

This week: Stand 7/7; Exercise 3/7 and Move 6/7. (76%). No work this week.Total steps: 62,837

Life

Hello 2026! Aren’t you looking fine?
Monday afternoon, we all walked to The Lockdown Bakehouse, where there was cake and coffee. When we returned, we watched Peter Ustinov in Death on the Nile.
Tuesday, a matinee performance of Disney’s Hercules (the musical). It’s the everyday story of the son of Zeus being stripped of his immortality as an infant, who must perform a series of heroic feats and prove himself a “true hero” on Earth to reclaim his place among the gods on Mount Olympus. You see this kind of thing everywhere, every day! Review: it’s not on the level of The Lion King.
Bong: I went outside so that I could usher in the New Year when Big Ben bonged for the first time in 2026. Champagne and music on television, plus we used the last of the indoor fireworks outside to create our own tiny display. People gradually drifted to bed over the hours to 3 a.m.
Related, I was in the kitchen by 8:30 a.m. to cook the breakfast I promised everybody (although people took a while to appear).
Friday, Battersea Power Station has been beautifully decorated for Christmas. We didn’t buy anything in the shops, preferring instead to stand and look at the turbine halls in their glittering glory.
Saturday, rather than doubling back underground, we decided to walk from Marylebone to Waterloo. It turned into a really pleasant route through Mayfair, across Piccadilly and down towards the South Bank. The sky was a clear blue, the air crisp but not cold, and the streets were busy enough to feel alive without being pre-Christmas crowded.
Sunday, we took the tree down. The room felt bare without it.

Media

NYE: Kiss Me, Kate, filmed live in 2024 at the Barbican. Adrian Dunbar, from Line of Duty fame, starred alongside Stephanie J. Block. Brilliantly done; I now wish I’d seen it live.
New Year’s Day: watched the new Knives Out film — Wake Up Dead Man — on Netflix. It’s full of odd characters and a plot with twists, but, strangely, Benoit Blanc is pretty much absent for the first third.
Sunday, Marty Supreme on the big screen. See it for the style and the performances, but make sure you have a comfy seat and don’t expect to fall in love with the hero. I wrote a fuller review.

Marty Supreme

A stylish look at the world of competitive ping-pong, with a lack of likeable characters.

Motion-blurred photograph of a young man in a white vest and dark trousers mid-leap on an urban street, carrying a light blue jacket, with blurred vehicles and buildings in the background creating a sense of rapid movement © A24 — Marty Supreme / © A24

The New Year is a season where it’s acceptable to simultaneously be looking forward with hope and dreams for the year ahead and look backwards at the year, or years, gone with a bit of nostalgia. Earlier in the week, I was looking back through my blog archives and rereading a few of my old film reviews. And, today, I thought, “let’s write a review of the film I just saw: Marty Supreme. The problem is, I have quite mixed feelings about it.

Marty Supreme Review

I get a bit of a block when writing about films this complex. Marty Supreme is a fascinating, stylish look at the world of competitive ping-pong. Who knew we cared about that in 2026? But by the time the credits rolled, I felt as exhausted as a player in a five-set match.

See what I did there?

When the movie starts, you really want to see Marty succeed in his dreams of being a world champion table tennis player. It’s not an unrealistic ambition; he has the talent and is playing in the right contests. Unfortunately, he has no backers and no money of his own. Competing for him is a challenge, not of talent, but of resources.

As the story progresses, however, any sympathy I had for his predicament starts to evaporate. Marty doesn’t just have a “win-at-all-costs” attitude; he becomes genuinely dislikable. The story turns from an underdog tale to that of a man who is his own worst enemy. He treats the people around him like tools to further his dreams rather than as humans, and I found myself less interested in whether he won the game and more annoyed by how he treated others. Which, in itself, is a bit of a feat as none of the others are likeable either.

The biggest hurdle for me was the ending. After two hours of Marty being a selfish narcissist, we are expected to believe he’s changed because of a choice he makes. But was it really a choice? Marty’s apparent growth feels forced by circumstance. If he hadn’t been kicked out of the tournament in Japan, would he have ever gone to that hospital? Probably not. It feels less like a man finding his true self and more like a man who ran out of other options.

The film is also filled with characters who feel as if they belong in a different movie, or at least, not in this one. The dog-owning gangster and his dog, Moses, felt particularly unnecessary. I am not sure how much the story needed their presence; the same impact could have come from other, underused, characters. Characters pop in and vanish without a trace. Maybe that’s the intention, but it feels disconcerting. Oh, and what’s the orange ping-pong ball bit meant to convey?

I generally enjoyed the film, but the length became an issue for me. Because there were no likeable characters to root for, the latter half of the movie started to drag. When you don’t care if the lead character wins or loses, you start to feel every minute of the runtime. I wonder if it would have been a better experience to have had a little bit less of it.

That said, the performances are superb; Chalamet conveys Marty’s ambition brilliantly. Gwyneth Paltrow’s portrayal of a trophy wife in a marriage she hates is similarly wonderful, but it doesn’t mean I’m rooting for her.

See it for the style and the performances, but make sure you have a comfy seat and don’t expect to fall in love with the hero.

Top Nine 2025

Nine photographs become a portrait of 2025: travel, music, small rituals and the moments that shaped the year.

A collage of nine photographs showing travel and entertainment highlights, including illuminated caves, coastal scenery, waterfall visits, concerts, ferry travel, and social gatherings with friends — Travelled far, got wet, attended gigs.

As I have done in previous years, I will (eventually) get around to writing my Yearnotes. I enjoy looking back on the summary, although I am never quite sure how much I actually learn about myself from the exercise. Still, as the year draws to a close and at least some Instagrammers are clinging on to the tradition of posting their ‘top nine’ pictures, it felt like a good moment to do the same. I have an app that does the work, and all I do is press the button, so I thought I’d start here, ahead of anything else I might write about 2025.

I rarely post to the Instagram grid these days. This year, I managed seventeen pictures in total, fewer than last year and continuing the gentle downward disconnection from the service. I still like the idea of Instagram as a kind of personal memory bank. However, I am increasingly sceptical about trusting any social media platform to preserve your history for you, which is another reason to do it here.

Even so, here they are: the top nine, ranked by likes and interactions. It is not a particularly competitive field with only seventeen entries, but it feels representative enough of the year.

The first image is technically the first frame of a carousel taken in March on PY’s birthday, when we spent the day collecting experiences around London. We began at the World of Tim Burton exhibition at the Design Museum, and the picture shows one of the models on display: Carousel. Created by Albert Cuellar for a MoMA exhibition in 2009, it brings together creatures and elements from Burton’s work, with the eerie undertones of carnival life running through it.

Second comes a moment from our day trip to San Sebastián: Eduardo Chillida’s El Peine del Viento, where sculpture meets sea and sky at the end of the promenade. Standing there, with the wind and the Atlantic crashing in around it, somebody said it was a punctuation mark on the edge of the city. I have no idea if that was an original thought or from a review, but I can still remember the phrase.

The third picture takes me back to August at Rydell High, courtesy of the immersive production of Grease. The set and cast were outstanding, and the evening remains one of my favourite Secret Cinema experiences so far.

Further down the grid sits a reminder of a long-held ambition finally realised: a visit to South America. It had been on my list for years, one of those destinations that never quite got booked. Towards the end of the trip, we crossed the border to see the Iguazú Falls from both Brazil and Argentina, watching the landscape change as the bus passed through passport control. The scale of the place is difficult to describe — noise, spray, rainforest, rainbows, all layered on top of each other — and the boat ride beneath the torrents, soaked to the skin and grinning like idiots, is something I doubt I will ever forget.

At the centre of the grid is a snapshot from our Eurovision party, which is the kind of night that is simultaneously frivolous and an essential feature of the year. Austria’s win gave the evening an extra lift, and by the end of the night, we were half-seriously discussing whether Austria might become the basis of a trip in 2026. To its right is a very different piece of history: the preserved trunk of the former Tree of Gernika. Once the site where Basque leaders swore to uphold local laws, it now stands in a neoclassical pavilion as a quiet monument to centuries of tradition and continuity.

The bottom row brings things closer to home again, beginning with my enduring fondness for the Isle of Wight and the familiar ritual of crossing water to set foot on the island where the annual Isle of Wight Festival is now firmly embedded in my year’s rhythm. Another year, another festival felt exactly as it should: sunshine and weaving through crowds toward Seaclose Park for an eclectic mix of music played out before picnicking families. Day One was a collage of summer festival moments — wandering between stages, sock wrestling on an alternative stage and paella by the river, before collapsing back in the flat with tea and the closing set on the telly. Day Two brought packed crowds for acts from Busted to Paul Heaton and the tight harmonies of The Queenbees. On Day Three, Björn Again’s energetic set got the day going before the surprise of Ella Eyre’s early exit, followed by Midge Ure’s powerful performance and a gentle drift back to Ryde with fish and chips, watching Jess Glynne on screen rather than braving the final headliners.

Together, the nine images sketch one curated image of 2025. The fuller picture will emerge, no doubt, in the Yearnotes over the weeks to come.

Weeknotes #153: it’s Christmas

Warm, festive moments, small surprises, and quietly satisfying Christmas rituals.

Week commencing Monday, 22 December 2025. Happy Christmas!

Illuminated Christmas tree decorated with multicoloured fairy lights in blue, green, red, and yellow, adorned with baubles and tinsel, with a glowing green tree decoration visible on a table to the right — Festive illumination reaches peak sparkle and bauble saturation.

Quantified Self

This week: Stand 6/7; Exercise 3/7 and Move 7/7. (76%). Morning walks: 0/3. Office days 0/3. Total steps: 33,347

Life

How did it get to Christmas week so quickly? Yesterday, Kylie was announced as the Christmas number one. I assume it’s because it’s probably included every time anyone asks Alexa to play Christmas songs. Clever marketing.
Related, at least it’s on YouTube if you don’t subscribe to the Amazon Music service.
A giant hole emerged in a Shropshire canal.
All week, at about 4 p.m., I turned my attention to activating Christmas lights to run on timers (six hours on, 18 off). I strung a new set around the back garden, only to discover they require a much larger battery than the ones I had to hand. The timer had to wait a day, which felt mildly annoying but also very normal for this stage of December.
Monday, the Christmas food was delivered by Sainsbury’s. Unexpectedly, it fit in the fridge.
Related, Tuesday, PY made mince pies, which filled the house with a properly Christmassy smell.
Relatedly related, Christmas Eve began with PY heading to Waitrose at nine to collect the turkey bauble. We’re not doing a whole turkey this year, mainly because some guests aren’t fans, so chicken will be doing the job for them.
Also on Christmas Eve, I suggested Greggs’ festive bake for lunch, which felt seasonally appropriate. PY returned with a cheese and onion slice and one with beans in. It was only later, while chatting with P&J, that it emerged he hadn’t realised there was such a thing as an actual festive bake. He thought I was asking for a Greggs’ bake in the festive period.
Christmas Day: lots of food prep, lots of eating, and some hilarious indoor fireworks. A lovely day spent with lovely people.
Sunday, I attempted to navigate various stations step-free and relied heavily on lifts. At Victoria, that means navigating a slightly bewildering network of lifts between levels to reach the ticket gates and the mainline platforms.
Reminder to me (and anybody who knows of a memorial bench): Open Benches.

Media

I mentioned before that I only started watching Stranger Things this series, but it is good, even if I am not really sure what’s happening. Obviously, Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now is a massive part of the joy.
The video reminds us that, in the 80s, pop stars made videos in shopping malls and we all thought it was cool.
Jemma Redgrave playing Kate Lethbridge-Stewart is fantastic in The War Between the Land and the Sea. Ditto Russell Tovey. However, it’s another series where the ending seemed rushed or incomplete.
Boxing Day movie 1: A Very Jonas Christmas Movie. It’s a fairly convoluted made-for-TV story about the band trying to get back from a European concert in time for Christmas, rediscovering their bond as brothers along the way. It’s light and festive, with some catchy songs. Entirely disposable, but enjoyable enough.
Boxing Day movie 2: The Accountant 2. The original felt more focused on the accounting side of things, whereas this leans much more into being a buddy movie, with a slightly tangled plot centred around identifying the people in a photograph. I still enjoyed it, though.
Saturday: we watched Wonka. It’s an origin-style story in which Willy Wonka, played by Timothée Chalamet, arrives in an unnamed European city to open his dream chocolate shop. Things don’t go to plan. It’s easy to see why it was nominated for Outstanding British Film at the BAFTAs. A warm, feel-good film that fits neatly into this quiet, between-days stretch.

Weeknotes #152: lights, pies, and platforms

Festive routines, thoughtful volunteering, good food, trains, lights, gentle cheer.

Week commencing Monday, 15 December 2025

The Pullman dining experience on a platform next to The Inspiration Train

Quantified Self

This week: Stand 7/7; Exercise 3/7 and Move 7/7. (81%). Morning walks: 0/3 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 2/5. Total steps: 64,664

Life

I started the week by chopping veg for a beef casserole and setting it going in the slow cooker. I was keen to make something that felt at least marginally healthier than the previous evening’s dinner, so I stacked it with extra vegetables and kept the meat ratio relatively low. It looked promising for most of the day, but when I checked it later, it had turned a bit watery. I thickened it up and added some mushrooms in the final hour, which rescued it nicely. In the end, it was lovely.
We eventually decorated the Christmas tree, but went for more lights and fewer baubles than usual. I really like it, although I am glad we did add some decorations, as it looked a bit sad in the daylight.
Tuesday’s technology team meeting was accompanied by coffee and mince pies. My colleagues didn’t win, even though they were nominated.
Related, we don’t know what they were nominated for, so we don’t know which award they lost out on. But it was nice that they were recognised for something.
Wednesday, I took a volunteering day, where I helped out at the Merton Memory Hub’s Christmas party. Four of us from work were there to help set up and serve snacks. There was a choir, and we sang Christmas songs together. Everyone was lovely, and it felt good to be involved in something genuinely worthwhile.
Thursday, the usual bar was closed for a private event. So we found somewhere else, and my round was still nearly £30.
Friday, I thought the Post Office would be rammed, but I was helped really quickly, and the package was, indeed, delivered on Saturday. After last week’s frustrations, perhaps my faith in Royal Mail has been restored.
That evening, to Soho, where the Christmas lights are based on drawings by a local primary school. I think they’re charming. Apparently, only six designs were chosen from more than a hundred entries, making them feel even more special.
Saturday, I took a regular commuter train to London’s Victoria Station. But there were three special trains in the station that morning. I was there for the Railway 200 Inspiration Train, which was on a platform right next to the British Pullman dining train, where guests were being serenaded off on their voyage.
And sensibly, a few platforms away, Santa’s Steam Express was being readied by the elves. If there hadn’t been adequate platform separation, there might have been a clash of Santas.
After Saturday afternoon’s Christmas lunch with friends, we tried to find somewhere nearby for a drink, but most Wimbledon pubs were already full. Eventually, we found a table at The Alexandra that was free for an hour before a booking was due to arrive, which was enough time for a drink before we all went our separate ways.

Media

We watched Spirited again, the 2022 Christmas musical comedy loosely based on A Christmas Carol. Obviously, the Good Afternoon song was still funny.
A bit more Stranger Things. I’m starting to enjoy it.

Weeknotes #151: festive, with food and song

Seasonal pleasures, good food, small frustrations, and festive moments gently accumulating.

Week commencing Monday, 8 December 2025

Fine dining dish called The Midnight Duel featuring pigs in blankets, roasted artichoke, black garlic and carmelised mushroom — The Midnight Duel from Six By Nico’s Nutcracker menu

Quantified Self

This week: Stand 6/7; Exercise 3/7 and Move 5/7. (66%). Morning walks: 0/4 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 1/5. Total steps: 48,189

Life

I listed some electrical items on eBay. They’re first-generation Lightwave smart sockets: far more than I actually need. eBay rejected my first attempt, and I still can’t work out why. Possibly it was because I included a link to the online manual on Lightwave’s own site, which also sells switches and sockets.
I am having issues with Royal Mail deliveries. Every time I call, I get the ‘high volume of calls’ message and then they automatically hang up. It’s very frustrating. No wonder people are buying from Amazon: when a recent delivery went wrong, they resolved it within ten minutes of my contact.
However, the items eventually arrived, although not until the seller had shipped another, which I then had to ‘refuse’ from the postman.
I put coloured lights around the front window at Christmas. For once, I was organised and did it before the Christmas tree was delivered, and it was so much easier.
Wednesday, while searching for something on YouTube, I kept being served the same advert for an alcohol brand. When I tried to block it, I noticed my settings were set to block personalised ads, which I think should exclude age-restricted advertising. I complained to Google and YouTube and, somewhat surprisingly, by the end of the day they upheld the complaint.
The tree arrived, was put into its stand, and instantly made the room feel different. It wasn’t decorated by the weekend, but every so often the smell of pine drifts through the house. So, that’s festive.
I wrote about Piccadilly Radio a few weeks ago. I’ve written about Timmy Mallet before. This week, listening to some archive audio, was the first time I’d heard him referred to as ‘Tim’ on air.
Related, the story of finding that audio is lovely.
Drinks and dinner in Carnaby Street on Thursday. The Christmas lights are up, and they’re excellent this year: giant crackers strung overhead. Plenty of people were stopping to take photos, and it felt properly Christmassy.
Friday, Six by Nico’s festive menu. I enjoyed all the courses. The opening Christmas tart, served in a little gift box, featured baked Gruyère with a smoked Parmesan jam, and it was excellent. The carrot tartare was the most interesting dish of the evening. The Midnight Duel, which was pigs in blankets, was the most overtly Christmassy. The Frozen Lake, a sea bass dish, was served with a theatrical misty effect. Slightly showy, but also very good.
The next day, another good meal at Sebastian’s Italian in Richmond. I was introduced to a basil smash gin and tonic, which I liked immediately.
Shame the cold/flu that’s going around led to the cancellation of the annual Stoke Newington party. We’re aiming for January.
Sunday evening, we went out to The Crazy Coqs for the annual Christmas selection. Mark had put together an excellent set of Christmas songs from musicals, and it immediately put us in a festive mood.

Media

The final of Race Across the World: I still can’t quite work out whether the sprint to the finish was a bit contrived, given that the teams weren’t allowed to travel overnight beforehand. Even so, we thoroughly enjoyed the series.
We also finished Down Cemetery Road. It’s been very good overall, but the final episode left quite a few things feeling unresolved. I don’t think they were deliberate loose ends for another series; it just felt incomplete.

Weeknotes #150: advent, parties and failed electronics

A festive, food-filled week with minor mishaps and gentle seasonal momentum.

Week commencing Monday, 1 December 2025

Christmas wreath decorated with red and gold baubles, pine cones, berries, and evergreen branches, illuminated by warm lights — Our party wreath brings proper Christmas cheer indoors.

Quantified Self

This week: Stand 4/7; Exercise 3/7 and Move 3/7. (48%). Morning walks: 0/3 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 2/5. Total steps: 41,628.

Life

Advent is here. Our calendar contains coffee pods in a caffeine countdown to Christmas.
The work Christmas party was lovely, but the wine kept flowing on our table, and I lost track, so I was well lubricated. The next day was very quiet.
As a result, the office also felt quieter than usual on Thursday, probably because most people had been in on Tuesday for the party.
Thursday’s dinner was with J&J at Rosa’s Thai. My Thai calamari starter was smaller than I had hoped. I had the Pad Kra Prow Gai for my main. It carries a three-chilli rating, but the waitress assured me it was not too hot. She may have been right, although by the end I needed to cool down. It was delicious all the same.
When I sat down at my desk on Friday morning, I discovered that my wireless mouse had stopped working. To get onto the morning calls, I had to dig out a wired one from the cupboard behind me so that I could click the ‘join meeting’ button. No idea why, but it’s a dead mouse now.
When I had a mouse, I wrote a thing inspired by last week’s trip to the Piccadilly Radio exhibition in Manchester.
Saturday afternoon was a very productive clear-out of cupboards because on Sunday I’d reserved a Zipcar to take things to the recycling centre. We have a lot of dead electronics, and the mouse was added to the pile.
We had planned to buy a Christmas tree from the pub on the corner on our way back from dropping the car off. When we looked, the trees were as expensive as the ones we usually buy, which are delivered and placed in their containers for us. PY bought us breakfast at the Raynes Park Tavern while we considered our options, and in the end, we decided to stick with a delivery. It arrives on Wednesday, which gives us a little more time to clear a space.

Media

I’ve seen the London play, but not the previous series, and I am joining PY in watching Stranger Things. I’m not sure it matters that I have no real backstory knowledge.
I’m still enjoying Down Cemetery Road, but we’ve caught up and are now at the mercy of Apple’s weekly drops.
Sunday evening with Russell T Davies, Russell Tovey and Jemma Redgrave in a series. What more could you want? The first two episodes of The War Between the Land and the Sea dropped. Really well done.

Piccadilly Magic

Piccadilly Radio: my childhood’s loudest imagined universe.

Collage of six photographs showing Piccadilly Radio memorabilia, including children at broadcast desk, Fun Bus 261 with a crowd, Hit Thirty chart list, a female presenter, Suzi Mathis, at a microphone, and archive signage from 1970s and 1980s eras — Personal memories captured through Piccadilly Radio’s golden decades.

Last Saturday, I took a train to Manchester, walked in the damp to Central Library to look at a handful of cases and a couple of audio pods stuffed with memorabilia from a radio station that no longer broadcasts. I’ve written before about Piccadilly Radio. In the light of last week’s trip, I thought I’d elaborate on how it came to be that a boy who’d never been to Manchester became obsessed with its local radio station in the early 80s.

Some memories are burned into your mind. You might not recall what you ate for dinner last night, but something from fifty years ago still feels real.

I can see the image today: in the summer of 1980 I am sitting on the dining room floor with Mum & Dad’s radio plugged in. We’d just recorded the birthday mention my brother got on Junior Choice hosted, I think, by Tony Blackburn.

For some reason, I was studying the maps in the yellow AA Member’s Handbook and flicking through the gazette at the back. Among the lists was one naming all our local radio stations. BBC Radio Blackburn was probably my nearest, but the stations that, for some reason, fascinated me were Radio City (from Liverpool) and Piccadilly Radio (from Manchester). I tuned around on that radio to find those frequencies and hear sounds from (what seemed) far away. I studied the maps, what roads would take us to central Manchester and which to Liverpool?

I’m pretty sure I know why it’s all etched on my brain: in my newfound fascination with those FM frequencies I taped over the recording of my brother’s name check. I can’t recall whether he had heard by then. I was mortified. But it was the first time I ever taped Piccadilly. I no longer have that tape, but in the cupboard across from me now are cassettes from that era with the sounds of Piccadilly on them. I taped a lot more.

Sometime not long afterwards, I was watching Granada television. I know it was Granada because that was our local ITV station, and there were no other commercial TV channels we could get. There was an advert for Pete Baker’s Breakfast Show on Piccadilly. It was all cartoon; for some reason, I recall a bus, and the soundtrack was a jingle from the show.

I know you think TV advertising doesn’t work, but in that moment two decisions were made: I’d be tuning to Piccadilly from then on, and I’d learn more about the little songs used to identify the radio station.

Piccadilly Radio shaped much of my childhood. In a world with only a handful of stations on the dial, it felt both local and impossibly glamorous, a Manchester window that seemed a very long way from Wigan. I wrote years ago that radio was “the best of all media rolled into one universally accessible package”, and Piccadilly was exactly that for me — my station in a way nothing else quite was.

The presenters and characters were part of the texture of school life. Timmy Mallett’s evening show felt huge; everyone I knew listened, everyone talked about it the next day, and I assumed the entire country must know who he was. His madcap features, the daft characters, even the jingles, all seemed larger than life.

My connection to the station went even further. In April 1981, I was taken to visit the studios. I can still picture the master control room, the DJ (Phil Seyer) prepping his show, the carts with their jingles and ads, and the moment the phone-in competition collapsed because somebody jammed the controls. I left with a t-shirt and stickers and told everybody it was the happiest memory I had.

Looking back, the station was far more than background noise. It provided company, excitement and a sense of connection to a wider world. It was a friend, a habit, and a doorway into music and culture at exactly the age when such things take root.

Weeknotes #149: 261 metres medium wave

A varied, nostalgic week of theatre, travel, culture, and small amusements.

Week commencing Monday, 24 November 2025

Clear cassette tape labeled 'Piccadilly Radio Presentation' showing analogue tape reels and counter markings, displayed at exhibition with yellow background — Piccadilly Radio nostalgia preserved at Manchester Central Library.

Quantified Self

This week: Stand 5/7; Exercise 3/7 and Move 6/7. (%). Morning walks: 0/4 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 1/5. Total steps: 60,736

Life

Monday, Murder She Didn’t Write (Duchess Theatre) was a one-night-only, improvised comedy murder mystery, structured like an Agatha Christie whodunnit, where almost every element of the plot is created live in the moment. A Whose Line Is It Anyway? for cosy-murder fanatics: genuinely hilarious.
Disconnected ideas: my bank is so concerned about fraud that it flagged a payment from my account to another of my accounts as fraudulent. It then answered with the name of a bank I don’t technically bank with when I tried to call. But at least the team knew I was on hold for 25 minutes.
Related: everybody tells me the last person who tried to ‘fix’ my guttering was a cowboy. They then turn out to exhibit similar behaviours. Ah.
Wednesday, to see Starlight Express in its new Wembley home (again). What I said last time stands. The cast still makes a concerted effort to get the audience to cheer for the trains and clap along, and tonight, just as on the last visit, they succeeded only with a minuscule portion of the crowd. Why they cannot induce more vocal support for the engines is beyond me. But I still loved it.
I avoided a work social because, by the end of the day, I was exhausted.
Forty minutes on hold with HMRC, and I didn’t get the answers I was looking for. At least they’re going to send me a letter.
Saturday, to Manchester mainly to see the Piccadilly Radio exhibition at Central Library. It’s only a small display set across three listening posts in the library’s main entrance. Fascinating to hear and see all about Piccadilly from an audio collection now curated by the library. It took me back to my childhood.
Afterwards, we walked to another library, the John Rylands Library. It’s a beautiful building, one of the finest neo-Gothic examples in Europe, and inside it felt closer to Dracula’s castle than a building of learning.
Lunch in Manchester was at Sexy Fish. It had a great vibe and fantastically friendly service.
Sunday, to the Ideal Home Christmas Show. We ended up with an LED Christmas tree light, and there were plenty of present options: perfume, solar panels, hot tubs, toys, cake mixes, and electronic chopping devices. These shows are always fun, and we did come away with a few bits, but they’re also full of things we would never want.

Media

I continue to enjoy Celebrity Race Across the World.
More episodes of Down Cemetery Road. I’m finding it intriguing and tightly put together. I can see the quirky echoes of Slow Horses, although it’s very much its own thing. Emma Thompson is excellent.

Weeknotes #148: crooners, donors, and dystopian disco

Enjoyable week of music, theatre, volunteering pride, and small seasonal pleasures.

Week commencing Monday, 17 November 2025

Two performers in futuristic cyberpunk costumes at a dystopian bar set. One performer stands on an elevated platform wearing fishnet stockings, metallic blue accessories, and knee pads, whilst the other sits on the illuminated bar counter in similar edgy attire with protective gear. Behind them is a dark bar backdrop with neon yellow signage advertising signature cocktails, shelves displaying quirky figurines and glassware. The aesthetic combines industrial grunge with neon lighting in green and yellow tones. — Dystopian bar vibes: where fashion meets the future’s downfall.

Quantified Self

This week: Stand 6/7; Exercise 5/7 and Move 6/7. (81%). Morning walks: 0/3 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 2/5. Total steps: 60,828

Life

I used to volunteer for The West Shropshire Talking Newspaper. This week, I learned it’s been been awarded The King’s Award for Voluntary Service: the highest award a local voluntary group can receive and equivalent to an MBE. Well done all.
I baked blueberry muffins on Monday, and they turned out edible. Well done me.
I’ve been hunting for Christmas crooners music on vinyl this week. On Monday, I secured some Johnny Mathis albums from eBay, failed to get anything on Saturday as the shop had closed last year, and was more successful on Berwick Street on Sunday.
Our first Sunday record-shop stop was Reckless Records. While I did not manage to find any Christmas music there, I did pick up the coveted 7″ version of one of my childhood favourites: Boney M’s Ma Baker. Don’t judge me.
After I pulled out of giving blood earlier in the year because I was ill, and then they cancelled an appointment, I finally gave blood for the seventh time. This appointment went smoothly, though we both had to complete additional screening due to our trip to Argentina.
Drinks on Thursday started in a busy pub where we were sat in the draught from the door, and ended in a quiet, cosy pub with heat. And a bus ride to Waterloo gave me plenty of train options.
On Friday, we headed down to Tottenham Court Road to catch Oscar at the Crown. The venue is hidden — a purpose-built space in a basement beneath the shops.
The show is set in a dystopian future under a fascist regime, with the action taking place in a secret bunker. Amid sequins and storytelling, the people hiding there recount the rise and fall of Oscar Wilde, all set to an original electropop score.
Related, when we first arrived, the place was worryingly deserted. I was concerned there would only be a handful of us. Thankfully, just enough people turned up to allow us to move around with the action and still get a decent view of what was happening.
On Saturday, Halfway to Heaven was operating a one-in, one-out policy. We went to the festive bar-tent across the road: a touch soulless. It became slightly uncomfortable when a large group of underage lads arrived, sat down at a table, and attempted to get themselves served at the bar. A couple of them were successful, but the others were left with nothing to do. We all had a passing thought that they might cause trouble, but they became bored and left.
Later, the French onion soup was delicious.

Media

Watched the first episode of Down Cemetery Road on Apple TV. Emma Thompson stars in a thriller by the writer of Slow Horses, so I have high expectations.
The way they film the landscapes in Celebrity Race Across the World is one of the best things on TV.

Weeknotes #147: Christmas lights and chain-bridge sprints

Busy week of travel, festivities and small triumphs despite winter weather.

Week commencing Monday, 10 November 2025

A purple-rimmed mug of mulled wine with two cinnamon sticks and an orange slice, photographed from above on a wooden table with colourful reflections — First mulled wine of 2025 at The Star, Ryde.

Quantified Self

This week: Stand 5/7; Exercise 4/7 and Move 4/7. (62%). Morning walks: 0/3 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 2/5. Total steps: 62,071

Life

Monday was pub quiz. If you recall, ninth is the place we aim for because the prize is good. We were joint ninth this week and lost at the tie-break (answer: I Will Survive).
Trains and tubes home from the office were overcrowded on Wednesday and Thursday. Despite interesting days in the office, the unpleasant commute makes me want to stay home.
But the train to The Island was not too busy, we made the connection and had a lovely Chinese takeaway.
Friday was rainy, but we avoided storm Claudia, which didn’t make it quite this far south.
Saturday was clearer for the Christmas lights switch-on in Newport, followed by my first mulled wine of the year back in Ryde.
And on Sunday, after a walk and Mexican breakfast in Cowes, I broke my rule about not running for a bus when we had just three minutes to make it from the Chain Bridge to the bus stop. We made it.
Another BBC Director General has gone. Nice piece from David Lloyd, “His job is too much for just about any human being, because the BBC itself is now unmanageable”.
Related, “The BBC belongs to all of us, and it is under attack as never before”.
Is road pricing coming? I’m intrigued by this discussion about the window of opportunity to make a change.

Media

We watched the Only Murders in the Building series five finale. Although it’s all a bit contrived by the end, I think the series may have redeemed itself in my eyes.
OK, I got hooked into the last-but-one series of Slow Horses. Although I think a few things weren’t wrapped up by the end, it didn’t spoil it. I was hooked. Should I buy the books?
And I am back into the groove with the Game Changers podcast thanks to a long train journey on Sunday evening.

Weeknotes #146: Luka, universe and ants provide a musical soundtrack

Energetic week of great gigs, sharp humour, and cultural reflections

Week commencing Monday, 3 November 2025

A concert photograph showing a large crowd watching a performance at the Hammersmith Apollo. The stage is bathed in dramatic red and orange lighting with beams cutting through atmospheric haze. Multiple spotlights create geometric patterns across the venue. The band's name "ADAM ANT" is visible on illuminated panels on stage, with silhouettes of performers and their equipment visible through the colourful lighting. Audience members in the foreground are holding up phones to capture the moment. — Adam Ant commands the Hammersmith Apollo stage.

Quantified Self

This week: Stand 5/7; Exercise 2/7 and Move 6/7. (57%). Morning walks: 0/4 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 1/5. Total steps: 38,773

Life

The average age of the performers at the excellent gigs I went to this week was 68.
Monday, to the Royal Albert Hall to see the last date in Suzanne Vega’s tour promoting the album Flying with Angels. It was a fantastic gig with a very appreciative audience.
Related, I looked it up and was surprised to discover that Luka only peaked at number twenty-three on the UK charts. It’s so ingrained in my memory that I assumed it charted higher. I wonder if twenty-three would be considered a hit these days?
Friday, Toyah was the support act and was brilliant. I loved the autobiographical stories between songs. Also, she opened with my favourite: Good Morning Universe.
She was supporting Adam Ant in Hammersmith. I can see where Johnny Depp stole the look. All the hits, ending with Stand & Deliver.
October: a month of live theatre, reviewed.
An email from John Lewis, with the subject line, “Watch our new Christmas ad before anyone else.” It links to a web page saying I need to watch it in their app on my phone. So I went to YouTube and there it was on John Lewis’s own channel for everyone to see. The ad’s OK. Great song. But the drive-me-to-the-app nonsense is marketing madness.
Inspires belief in the confidentiality of it all: “To complete your confidential ten-minute survey, please enter your work email address below.”
I feel the boat may have left the port: “Sky, BBC and ITN call on Starmer to ‘stamp out’ Big Tech’s ‘anticompetitive behaviour’.”
Ssshh! I feel the cat may be out of the bag: Apple’s new Siri will secretly use Google Gemini models behind the scenes. No secret — everybody’s reporting it.

Media

Tuesday marked twenty-two years since Channel 4’s Brookside bowed out. Hollyoaks became their main soap. I discovered that, as part of Hollyoaks’ 30th celebrations, Brookside Close was revisited in a couple of episodes. I watched the first crossover episode. I had no idea about the storyline, but it was good to see Sheila, Bobby, Barry, Billy, Sinbad and Tinhead all back on screen — and that little bit of the theme tune. Nicely nostalgic.
I came late to this series of Bake Off, but I enjoyed the final and am reminded that nice people make interesting telly.
They were nice, even though they were Celebrity Traitors. We’d caught up in time to watch the final on the day of transmission. Superb.