Josef Holmes

I regularly find myself in weird situations.

I like to think they make life even more interesting than it already is, making for great stories and memories alike.

However, when I left the train station en route back home the other day, I experienced one that turned into a fierce battle that would have definitely been worthy of a scene in a ‘Bourne’ film.

Now, I’m someone who loves to walk- but sometimes (both when I walk and cycle) I find an overwhelming compulsion to overtake as many people as I can; I achieve a level of satisfaction on par (probably) with a joy rider on amphetamines.  I don’t know why, I just do.

Well I was in this mode when exiting the station, and as I began to descend the hill towards Brighton’s Clock Tower I noticed in the corner of my eye a figure moving exactly alongside me with the same hurried and determined pace.

This was wierd.  I sped up a little, to confirm my position as the fastest walker on the street.

Within seconds, there he was again.  I didn’t turn my head to look at him, but there was a connection made that both of us had become aware of that the battle was on.

The brisk walk turned into a power-walk- with oncoming pedestrian’s we jostled through obstacles to gain the lead, with intense strategies coming into play that would give one or the other an advantage before a high octane comeback maneuver was performed.

This battle was becoming fierce, and still none of us knew what the other looked like.

We were opponents without a face- the only shared desire to be the walker who was slightly ahead of the other.

The walk down to the Clock Tower usually takes about 6 minutes or so.  I reckon 2 minutes must have passed before I cracked (2 minutes may not seem like a long time, but when you’re shoulder to shoulder in the race to end all races with an opponent it seems like a century).

I couldn’t bear it anymore- I took a sip from the bottle of water held firmly in my hand, the slight unbalance and lack of aero-dynamic precision in my stride momentarily putting me slightly behind.

Then I ran. I ran like mad- all the way back home.  He was nowhere to be seen.

I didn’t even look back to see what can only have been a face in tears.

Or awe.  Either one.

Eye halve a spelling chequer;

It came with my pea see.

It plainly marques for my revue

Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a quay and type a word

And weight for it two say,

Weather eye am write or wrong

It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid

It nose bee fore two long,

And eye can put thee error rite

It’s rare lea ever wrong.

Eye have to run this poem threw it;

Aim shore your pleased two no-

It’s letter perfect awl the weigh,

My chequer tolled me sew.

Ta very much for letting me join your website.

I’ve recently partaken in a whole lot of internet dribble I never thought I would, this and twit-central being two of the main things.

Although I’m not really sure why I’ve done it, for some bizarre reason I feel quite pleased with myself and mildly exhilarated!  I don’t expect anyone will bother to read this, however I like the idea of having some sort of a diary in which I can keep memoirs if only for myself.  If they can provide entertainment or conversation fodder to anyone else, then darn my antelope and call me Geoffrey.

I’m at a very exciting stage, having decided not to carry on studying in favour of pursuing ‘the dream’, some amazing projects I’ve found myself involved in are just kicking off.

I wonder what the future holds! Besides, the ‘ere and now’ is what counts and it’s reet fun I can tell thee!  I guess, this could be a way of documenting my travels as a musician.

What with this being a fresh chapter in what I hope is still the first quarter of the book of my life, I intend to make some changes to adapt to the winter that looms.

For a start, I bloomin’ love sunshine- so I’m going to try and sort out my sleeping pattern somewhat and get up earlier each day.  Maybe I’ll even start swimming and cycling regularly!  Certainly, I’m going to make more of an effort to cook better meals; I feel my standards have slipped since being busy busy busy with all the things I do and my elbows are not thanking me one bit.

Perhaps for this to happen, though, I need to fall in love with a girl and invite her to dinners round mine regularly!  It seems hardly worth putting in an hour’s worth of Michelin-grade cooking unless the food is shared.  We could even play risk, or chess, or snake and ladders if that’s how she rolls.  She would have to like Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace, otherwise the relationship would be a short one.

Anyway, I have an important gig tomorrow in London.  It’s Boy Cried Wolf’s official launch show of the ‘Firebrand EP’ at the Camden Barfly and it’s going to be marvellous.  I’ll hopefully be meeting up with some of my best old buddies, including the charming Samuel Meehan from The Anomalies.

I’ve got to stop my addiction with garageband, playing with harmonies for Chris Simmons songs, and get to bed!!

Goodnight.

x