A few days ago I made a spur of the moment decision to buy a ticket to see Mark Knofphler at the Royal Albert Hall. It’s a nice day and I’m sitting outside listening to Tunnel of Love. The air report isn’t great. In fact it’s far from great, but you can’t see NO2. My ticket cost £45 to stand at the back £80 for a seat seemed too much.

I should feel more relaxed, but the coffee I had on the train a few hours ago has pushed me over the edge. I’m not panicking and just letting the overdose pass. It would be nice if it would go now though. Perhaps writing every day would help, but I ran out of things to say. Which is unusual, because if you start me on a subject I’ll go on for hours. There’s the small chance that none of it is worth writing down, but only a very small chance.

Turn on the TV and radio, and it seems that all people do is talk and have opinions. It’s very rare that they talk about people who do things. The impression is that all you need is an opinion. Real ability and knowledge doesn’t matter in our current environment. If you want something doing we can get foreigners to do it.

I’m angry because that’s all I seem to have. At least I write sometimes, but it’s not exactly flowing right now. And all it is if un-fact checked opinions about stuff. Most of the time all I’m doing is passing some dead time with the possibility of looking slightly interesting to passers by.

What was I raging out here? I know I started this, left it, thought I’d finished it, and got hacked off when the bloody thing failed to save!

Wow. That was a bit of a rant! It’s not about people not being able to do things. It’s all about me not being able to do things. It’s time to live in the now and do something. The only problem is my trust in my own judgement.

The concert wasn’t quite as good as I wanted it to be. When it was good it was very good, and when some of the set sounded like filler, it sounded like filler. But it left me with a happy feeling, so I’m guessing that it was better than I thought at the time.

End.