A reprieve at last from the incessant soggy wet, wet, wet. At least for us in The North. Down south, there have been big floods (again!)

As ever, the English love weather superlatives: ‘The hottest summer since Clackton Smythe’s balls dropped.’ ‘The coldest winter since granny Pickles’ tits froze.’ Today, it’s ‘The wettest winter since whatever …’ It’s certainly the wettest winter that I can remember. It’s a poor excuse I know, but when the slutchy pall descended I lost all interest in farmleting. The soggy field and slimy leaf-strewn paths have been sadly neglected as I semi-hibernated in the balm of our wonderful multi-fuel stove.

Last time it was this wet, a good few years ago, all the carefully built-up no-dig soil from the downward-sloping beds was washing away. I sorted it by putting baffles at the bottom of the beds and land drains in between.

Yule cards


I love the Christmas period. Not the commercial side of it, just the time of the year. We don’t bother with presents, but Christmas day and the traditional dinner are always special. The only thing I got was deeply offensive cards from my two unoffendable cunt friends. I’d neglected to get them one, so I hastily knocked them up a brooch apiece to avoid getting in trouble. Their faces dropped when they saw that there were no swear words on them.

The Christian festival is just an imposition over the pagan festival, marking the winter solstice, which is as old as time itself. Those ancient folk knew stuff that we don’t. Worldwide there are monuments thousands of years old, which focus the rays of the solstice sun onto a particular spot. Newgrange in Ireland is an example.

I’d go as far as saying that it’s my favourite time of year. It’s the lowest ebb of the darkest nights, before the light begins to grow again. It also marks the beginning of the growing season and rekindles my enthusiasm for farmleting. Now is the time to catch up with all those left-behind winter jobs and to plan the growing season ahead. If, like me, Father Christmas didn’t bring you anything, it’s well worth treating yourself to a gardening diary.

I always quietly celebrate the winter solstice, even if it’s just me on my own lighting the candles on the mantlepiece. For me, Christmas is just an extended celebration which merges into getting cracking again, somewhere after New Year’s day.

On New Year’s eve last year, I was asleep on the settee by 9.30 and was rudely awaked by fireworks at midnight. I really didn’t miss partying. Previously, for many years we’ve had big parties which began when the kids were little. This year, I was more than happy to do nothing again, but Sam said that we should make the effort and have a party, so we did.

Candles for Solstice


Before getting the house ready, I went on a long walk, calling at the eco house and the ranch. It was serendipitous, because I bumped into my neighbour, who’s garden backs onto mine. The fascia boards blew off the end of the house in the gales and I’ve been struggling to find a roofer. He’s just had his roof done and recommended one. 

4 days later and the scaffolding is up and they’re on with it. They also recommend a good plasterer, so we’re on track again.

I check the ranch and walk round the field and get a sudden wave of gratitude for having the foresight to spend my money on land and a house. What a wonderful place.

I walk back over the tops and bump into an old friend. We walk through the woods and through the park then back to the house for a brew. That’s the highlight of NYE for me. She’s an inspiration in overcoming challenges that assail many of us. She mentions a couple of books, which I duly order.

Golden single


Louise bought me a pair of iconic Technics 1210 Mk 2 decks well over a year ago. Apart from Sagefest, they’ve just sat in a cupboard and I’m regularly chided for not using them. We got them out for NYE and made a little platform for the second deck. They’ll live there permanently from now on. It makes it so much easier to play records, and my love of vinyl is re-kindled.

It was a joyous affair. Family and friends old and new celebrating together. Sam, James, Dawn and I banged out a few Rock & Roll numbers. Paradoxically, I spend most of the party DJing, so I never get chance to talk to people. I’m also too busy doing the host thing and keeping an eye on proceedings, so I never quite relax until the early hours. This year, I took on a DJ understudy – the young Welsh wizard Garth-Jones. Despite my precise induction, he got off to a scratchy start, but improved as the night went on. I might let him carry my record boxes at future disc-jockeying engagements.

Every single one of our parties has been dependent on the good nature of our beyond wonderful neighbours. sadly, they are selling their house and moving. It’s the end of an era. This may be our last party.

We have a tradition at midnight, which has probably been going on for over fifteen years. It stems from Taff & Fran’s ‘going out’ record, which they used to always play before embarking on a night on the town. It’s the most joyous of discs. Approaching midnight, we gather everyone into this room, then put on Jools Holland’s countdown. At midnight, I put on Higher and Higher, then flip it over and play Sweetest Feeling.

To groove out of my period of ultra slobdom, I’ve made a big list of stuff to do, including tackling some challenging issues. I’ve made a good start.

Metta in the house


I’ve never done religion. My dad forced us to go to church until we were eighteen. He said ‘Once you’re eighteen, you can make your own mind up’. Fuck that. I never went again.

I left home when I was 21 and started trying to find things out for myself. Unless we’re inordinately lucky, most of us have suffered some kind of trauma during childhood, which oozes out of the cracks in adulthood, whether we like it or not. I found myself turning towards Eastern philosophy including Buddhism. I liked all the lists which map out the sneaky, slippery mind. I hated all the religious bits though. No way am I bowing to a f’ing statue.

One bit that got right on my tits was Metta, which translates as Loving kindness, friendliness, universal love whatever. Ffs don’t you know who I am? I’m a Burnley boy innit? There isn’t much room for all that shit, especially when you have to deal with cunts every day.

Winter ranch


Like the baby, I’ve taken to having afternoon naps during this grey damp period. He generally has his kip early afternoon, whereas mine is later.

I too have a little routine to get me off to sleep. I curl up on the two-seater settee on top of the sheepskin, wearing my thick over-socks and my high-necked brown jumper. I cover my legs with the same old knitted shawl that we use to cover him up. Even if Louise is smashing about in the kitchen, I still manage to nod off.

I always thought that I’d had my lifetime’s fill of childcare, but when the baby came, miraculously saved just in time by our magnificent NHS, I saw something different.

The eternal paradox of parenthood is that you’re so fucked by trying to earn enough to support them all, that a lot of it just passes you by, whilst you’re tied up being a miserable grumpy twat.

I made a simple decision early on, and I’ve stuck to it. I decided never once would I get angry or lose patience with him and so far I’ve stuck to it. All I do is sit on the floor at his level and watch him and play and read books with him – 100% attention. He’s at the stage of testing boundaries, but even when he throws all his cars on the floor (glancing at me in between, to look for a reaction), I just smile.

When it’s his turn for a kip, he gets a bit grumpy. He has a big drink of milk then I give him his dummy and rock him, singing him a little song. To the external observer, it just sounds like ‘sleepy baby’ over and over again, but it’s filled with magic and fairies and things. He clutches my hand with both of his and smiles at me, his eyes shining. He has his uncle’s long eye lashes. Slowly, slowly his eyelids droop and he’s asleep. I notice he has a very fine golden down on his cheeks, only just visible. That’s when it hits and suddenly, I get it. I get what the Buddhists are on about.

This is love absolute. Love pure. Love without condition. Love supreme. It’s easier with an innocent baby. The trick is to extrapolate the feeling upwards to the not-so-innocent grown ups.

What wouldn’t we do to protect our babies?

Decks in place


What we see on our screens is never the full picture. Who knows what is and isn’t censored? There are other places to look and I’m seeing things I don’t want to see. There are pictures of babies. They’re just as beautiful as ours. They’re asleep. They’re grey and they’re not waking up. I see two little children. They’re clinging to each other. They’re all dusty. They’re crying for their daddy, but he’s not there.

I’ve said all along, that at ground level, ‘sides’ are created by the evil ones much higher up the pyramid for very dark and horrible purposes. There are only two sides. That of decent human beings who just aspire to ordinary lives, with a livelihood, friends and family, then the other side, who think that they are genetically superior and are justified in carrying out genocide. One side, whether we realise it or not, is governed by Metta and the other one isn’t. One side vastly outnumbers the other. The greatest skill of the dark side, practised for centuries, is to turn populations of particular regions against each other. It’s become so much easier with the sorcery of the internet and its algorithms and AI. That’s why I never go in for flag-shagging. Ffs read up on the history of the region from an impartial source before kissing the arse of some jumped up B actor puppet prick.



I sometimes get exasperated when a new conflict gets all the press coverage, when others are ignored. There are literally hundreds of genocides going back as far as human existence, right into the present. Who has heard of Indonesia in 1965?

I’ve been trying to put my finger on why this one is different and I’ve finally worked it out. All genocides are orchestrated by puppet-masters, who operate in the shadows, being careful to hide their purposes with a veneer of justification.

This time, they’re no longer able to hide it and more and more is seeping out into the mainstream. Even the thickest of the brainwashed are beginning to see it.

Lets spell it out from the top down:

  1. A handful of ultra-powerful families own and control everything through a pyramid of power comprising: corporations; foundations; NGOs such as the WHO and WEF; secret organisations for the elites; governments and finally right at the bottom ordinary people like you and me. They consider themselves genetically superior and they have no qualms about culling the useless eaters.
  2. An integral part of the mindsets of the elites is illicit sexual practice including paedophilia and satanism. Thousands of children go missing every year and there are paedophile networks worldwide linked to elites.
  3. The families at the top employ spies and agents who entrap senior government figures by covertly filming them carrying out illicit sexual practice and worse. They then use blackmail to keep their charges in line. There are several. Epstein is the latest example and his activities are coming out in the open for all to see. Savile was another. Check out Miranda and Mandy. Mossad and the CIA are cheeks of the same arse.
  4. They engineer one crisis after another, to keep the peasants at bay and take away their power to object. Wars such as the current ones are the obvious examples – war is an eternal profit machine for them. The latest big thing, which is relatively new, is to convince vast swathes of the world population to take one or more injections to protect them against a killer virus. The injections (using technology not used before on the human population) unfortunately are causing huge amounts of death and morbidity through thrombosis and immune suppression. Excess deaths are through the roof.
  5. They impose a digital credit score that completely enslaves the population. China is a perfect fully-functioning example.
View from top


Now here comes the punchline. Controversial. Dangerous, but true. What do the dark side have in common? Who are they? From what culture and philosophy do they originate?

We are currently seeing the Zionist Israeli Defence Force indiscriminately slaughtering an entire population. They are targeting schools, hospitals and other places of safety. They are using snipers to pick off civilians. It’s there for all to see. Some are saying that they are the best-equipped terrorist organisation in the world equivalent to the Waffen SS of Nazi Germany. I know the pitfalls of taking sides, but I’m inclined to agree. I’ve ditched bands who’ve played in Israel for years. That’s what’s different about this war – there’s nothing secret about it.

There are scores of lovely decent Jewish people worldwide and they’re speaking out against this horror. The ones in Israel affected by the October attack are innocent victims too and the misery of having your loved ones taken hostage is almost unthinkable. I’ve seen loads of accounts from former IDF soldiers, explaining that the border security between Gaza and Palestine is the best in the world and that they can even spot a cat encroaching the border. There was something else going on with the October attack.

I’m talking about the darker side which encompasses Zionism and practically rules America.

The puppet slaves of the Zionists willingly and publicly are supplying them with arms to perpetuate this horror. High up, there are so-called goodies and baddies. Trump vs Biden, Sunak vs Starmer. In reality, they are ALL controlled by the puppet masters. Everything is linked: wars; pandemics; climate control. All things that make the lives of ordinary people harder.

Please don’t take my word for it. It’s all out there, careful digging is required.

Mud of freedom


Despite all the horror there is joy and hope and there’s plenty that we can do about it.

  1. Embrace Metta and appreciate our families and friends to the maximum – there is nothing more important. Extend Metta out to those who we don’t necessarily like or agree with.
  2. Form networks of like-minded people to grow food, learn about nature’s medicines and the benefits of outdoor exercise.
  3. Boycott the greedmeisters wherever possible.
  4. Ditch digital. Our phones track everything we do. Use cash. Boycott institutions that link facial recognition to credit cards.
  5. Expose those responsible – for example, the number of UK Parliamentarians involved in sexual misconduct is astonishing – check out this list.
  6. Use balanced well-reasoned discussion to show those who don’t see it yet, what is happening – avoid knee-jerk anger – that’s how divide and conquer works.
  7. Unite on common ground – forget the small details such as whether there was or wasn’t a deliberately created virus – arguing about that stuff just causes division.
  8. Pass it on. Use some of your supreme good fortune to help others.


It’s another cold crisp clear start to the day, giving way to cloud. Even the mud-patches on the ranch are beautiful, because they’re patches of freedom. Everything on the above list is linked to that raw, rugged, secret hillside space and the associated safe house.

Many of us have treasured memories from our youth. A big one of mine is playing guitar with NOTSENSIBLES. Who would have thought that we’d be still at it, all those years later? We made some decent records.

On Friday, Gaz and I were back together rehearsing for our gig upstairs at the Golden Lion in Todmorden on Friday 9th Feb – tickets soon. We had an extra-special guest playing keyboards. We’re playing two sets – a quiet one of our original stuff, then a full on Notsensibles set.

I’ll be re-starting the gardening group soon.

Time for a stroll. As Horace wisely said carpe diem.


Notsensibles 7" single