A stream of consciousness by Laurence Hughes

Clair bought me Jude Rogers’ book for Christmas thinking I would enjoy it – and I did. I love the idea of chronicling the milestones of your life using music – music that touched you, that you were obsessed with, or that bonded you with significant others.

I also enjoyed reading the science behind the feelings. As Jude asked in the first chapter:

How do songs affect our emotions so profoundly? How can they activate memories instantly?

It turns out that babies can recall what they heard while in the womb, and are predisposed to get music in a manner beyond advanced computers. The medial prefontal cortex – an area of the brain linked to our sense of self – is involved in tracking melodies. There are lots of these interesting insights.

Jude’s tunes ranged from Abba to Krafterk to Toots and the Maytals, which I found good fun. And as proof of music’s facility for time-travel, her final chapter on Prefab Sprout’s I trawl the megahertz transported me back instantly to my desk at Bright Signals’ office in 2018 during my contract there, where my friend Andy’s playlists introduced me to that unique tune.

On Friday night Clair took me to dinner at local bar restaurant Vini and it was a real treat. To start we shared arancini and a salad, then for my main I had Papardelle Ragu. I had a mezcal cocktail too, which I loved.

We were celebrating my recent promotion to principal engineer. I’d known for a few weeks and although I felt happy and proud, it was mixed with a healthy dose of impostor syndrome. I also had a recent, challenging meeting playing on my mind, so I was distracted and hadn’t relaxed into the situation. But Clair’s lovely gesture and spending that time together and relaxing did the trick, and at last I felt able to enjoy the good news.

On Saturday Clair went out for an easter meal with her mum and cousins and I spent the day with Rudy. The previous Thursday he’d had a really bad anxious reaction on the street, seemingly from nowhere, and I was caught in the crossfire and left exasperated. But as we went into the weekend he seemed back to his best self and we enjoyed lovely walks and a bit of sun in Linn Park.

On Sunday I went to Troon to visit Davie. He was over from New York visiting his mum. His family have all had a rough time of it. It was really sunny again and we enjoyed a walk along South Beach before stopping to watch Celtic vs Johnstone at local pub, The Fox. We then visited some family friends of Davie’s and sat outside in their garden.

The whole weekend was just what the doctor ordered and has left me feeling great going into the week ahead.

I’ve just finished reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. It’s short so was a perfect holiday read.

I enjoyed the ride as the mystery of Gatsby’s identity was revealed. Although it transpired he was no angel, I sympathised with his aspirations to make the most of himself. I felt sorry for him as he pushed against the tide, and others either exploited his generosity or (in the case of the “old money” set personified by Tom Buchanan) blocked him from moving in their circles.

The last passage is pretty thought-provoking:

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning——

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

From what I can gather it alludes to the futility of constantly “reaching” in the face of opposition and at the expense of the good opportunities and life you could already have. It’s a path that can lead you to bad morals and values and end in unhapiness. It has special meaning in the context of the American Dream but I think there’s a general theme. Live in the present; learn to value what you have.

Yesterday I took the short bus trip from Marbella to Málaga for the day. I’d visited Seville a few years back and thought it was high time I checked out another of Andalusia’s big cities.

Having walked from the bus station to Avenida de Andalucia, my first port of call was the Atarazanas food market. It’s a stunning building with a glass roof supported by an intricate iron structure, and a large stained glass window at one end. There’s a vast array of vegetables, fish, meat and more on offer at 250 colourful stalls. It was bustling and full of life. On my way back home after I’d built up an appetite, I grabbed a seat just outside the building and enjoyed one plate of fried fish and another of lightly fried aubergine with honey, washed down with a beer. ¡Qué rico!

Next, I ventured across Alameda Principal and past Parque de Malaga down to the marina. After a 10 minute walk past waterfront restaurants and bars I arrived at The Pompidou Centre. Their temporary exhibition was called Place-ness. I found it really interesting. It aimed to show how historical events, politics, economic models and technological change can affect our perceptions of places. People from the country and the city are ascribed different status. Industrialisation (cars, motorways) results in non-places – purely functional zones such as airports and refugee camps that might evoke standardisation or dehumanisation. The works in the exhibition “invite us to change our perspective to consider these spaces as interdependent rather than static”.

As I walked toward the historic centre for a good old wander, I was then struck by a stunning view of the Alcazaba, a Moorish medieval fortress on a hill, overlooking the sea. With a bit more time, fairer weather and some company I would have gone for a visit… but I’ll leave that til next time.

I loved Jason Pargin’s I’m starting to worry about this black box of doom.

It’s one of those stories that captures the zeitgeist amazingly well (a bit like The Social Network did back at the time). In this case it captures the tendency for folks online to blow things out of proportion; to catastrophise and to think the worst.

The black box has a boogie-man physical form in the book, but it soon becomes clear that it’s a clever metaphor for perhaps the real source of anxiety and division in the modern culture.

I loved the charcacters, the dialogue and the dark comedy. I especially enjoyed Ether’s vain attempts to make Abbot realise that everything isn’t really terrible and is arguably – arguably! – the best we’ve ever had it.

I 100% recommend this book.