Walkies

The quick, local woodland dog walk is a blessing when we are in a hurry.

Except today, pace is not forthcoming with my toddler in tow.

Ren likes to spend five minutes splashing in a puddle by the entrance, then another five picking the perfect dandelion.

The sun is shining through the Rowan trees, with Chaffinch chirping away atop.

The sausage dogs are sniffing every corner, running around, tails wagging.

I check my watch, then put it away.

Lunch can wait.

Cuddle

Ren is burning up again. It’s only been a fortnight since he was last snot free.

He nuzzles into my leg as he begs “dada”. I drop everything and cuddle him close.

I sit there on the floor, when thoughts of work emails, piles of washing, texts I haven’t replied to start creeping into my mind.

Then I take a deep breath and sit still, for the decision is already made for me.

That nothing in the universe matters more than to focus on this cuddle right now.

Trim

“Ah this one will do!”

My fluffy, shy little son is due a hair cut. My wife decides the local Turkish barber cannot be that bad.

Every hair cut on display has a hard fade with inexplicable lines shaved in. Before I could question it, he was marched in.

Within minutes, his head was fed to the buzz of the clipper - hair, tears and screams flying everywhere. I had to look away.

The result is an 18 month old who looks like he steals Haribos for a living, and has tried vaping at least once in his life time.

But despite this tragedy, he’s recovered, even high-fiving other toddlers at the park while I quietly googled a therapist.

Nanobloom

It was ten years ago when I first decided I was going to chase the dream as an artist.

It’s been a long journey full of failures and disappointments, but I’m still at it today.

I think if me ten years ago saw me today, he’d still be proud of me.

Not because I’d achieved anything in particular, but because he’d know I still hadn’t given up yet.

Nanobloom is a soundtrack to becoming in slow motion.

Out now, everywhere.

https://spoti.fi/43xhGdN

Success

Van Gogh only ever sold a handful of paintings. Little did he know he would go onto be celebrated as one the greatest ever.

He wrote to his brother Theo, that “I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart.”

And here, unknowingly he reveals a more meaningful definition of success.

Success as an artist is being able to create art out of no other reason than love.

Van Gogh had already succeeded without knowing it.

I just wish I could go back and tell him so.

Bud Dub

I remember staring at my Macbook screen absolutely mesmerised beyond words.

I was listening to the first track I ever made through some battered Sony speakers.

Every bleep, bloop and splash of sound came from me. I couldn’t stop smiling.

It was of course, awful. But that didn’t matter to me. I couldn’t even tell how bad it was.

All I knew was, this was something I wanted to do for a very long time. And I did.

‘Bud Dub’ is about the moment we realise who we want to become.

Out now, everywhere.

https://spoti.fi/41UBbdH

Morning

I am not a morning person.

I’d rather crack my skull open than have less than six hours’ sleep.

But here I am, cuddling my son at 5am.

He giggles and coos and chirps like a minion.

Bleary eyed, I ask him what he wants.

And with twinkling eyes he says:

“Dadaaaaaaaaaa”

Kernel

Ren’s chance of IVF succeeding was 10%.

As a tiny embryo, he undertook billions of cell divisions to come through and become who he is now.

Every day I look at him and see this little miracle becoming his own self. It’s insane.

Kernel started as a single piano note. I heard it multiply, divide and blossom into a melody, before becoming a full orchestra.

I called it “Kernel” for all things that start small that grow into worlds of their own.

It’s available to listen everywhere, now.

https://spoti.fi/4bjb6JO

Crisps

Otis is my stubborn sausage dog.

Calling him out of the blue is like summoning tumbleweed..

Until I make the faintest crinkle from the cupboard, and he’s instantly on my lap.

Ultra obedient, tail wagging, eyes fixed on me like I hung the moon.

And I chuckle as I stare back at his gaze.

Then reach for another crisp as we both crunch away on the couch together.

Spoon

Ren is covered in porridge.

He’s finally figured out how to hold a spoon, and splattered it all over his face, floor and furniture.

He grins with determination as he attempts another precarious mouthful..

And gloriously misses his mouth.

Undeterred, he goes for another spoonful, getting a little more purchase this time.

And I swell with pride, as his tiny hands keep trying without giving up.

Tea

John nods as he takes another breath from his oxygen mask.

His daughters listen on tearfully as I explain the likely outcome of this admission.

He knows this may be the last time he comes to hospital.

Finally, I offer heavy sedatives and anything else he may need for relief.

He looks at me, nods again and gently taps on his side table.

“In that case, I’ll have a cup of tea please.”

And for the first time, his daughters broke out a laugh while I gladly put on the kettle.

Sunbeam

Ren’s first love is Sunbeam.

She is a Jellycat pedigree, once fluffy, now snot-caked bunny.

He takes her everywhere.

We’ve offered him an identical grey version, still fresh and fluffy, gifted as a backup.

But no, he loves Sunbeam, for she  comforted him since the very beginning.

And as I watch him drag her through another puddle, I witness unconditional love in all its beautiful mess.

Push

I know a guy in my gym who works with a face like thunder, sweat dripping profusely, occasionally letting out a disturbing scream.

We do not share the same vibe.

Today, attempting my bench press personal best, I needed a spotter. The only other person on the floor was him.

I paused and took a deep breath. But before I even asked, he shouted “come on mate let’s do it!” slapping his chest knowingly.

Moments later, eyes bulging, he was rallying me on while I pushed past my best. 

And no matter our differences, he reminds me that when we have a shared goal, we help each other push.

Radiator

I couldn’t peel myself from the radiator this morning. It’s bitterly cold.

And I thought of Mr T, a homeless regular in our emergency department.

His story never changes: shop lift vodka, drink at bus stop until he collapses, brought in by a stranger’s call.

For him, the only glimmer of warmth is the few hours he spends in our emergency department before he’s discharged again.

And as my hands pressed against the warm radiator, I prayed Mr T found his next moment of warmth.

Rabbit

Today I met Gerald again, carrying his usual plastic bag full of cans.

I often find him wandering around our park, aimlessly circling the grass.

Whenever he sees my two sausage dogs he loves to ask the same question.

“What’s the name of your rabbits mate?”

He beams, smiling with missing teeth.

And in that moment, it doesn’t really matter what species they are.

But that these little rabbits brought joy to Gerald’s day again.

Snot bubbles

We sat on the kitchen floor, the smell of warm rice cooking on the pan.

Ren is finally over the worst of his cold, snot still streaming down both cheeks.

He looks at me anxiously, refusing to be let go. So we sat, cuddled and rocked.

On the radio I hear Chris singing “I drew a line. I drew a line for you. Oh, what a thing to do..”

And I well up as I tell Ren how much I loved him. He looks back with a plain expression as if to say “I know you do.”

And there we were, both blowing snot bubbles. 

Un-adult

One epiphany I’ve had as a parent is that the best smiles come from infants.

And maybe I think this because Ren’s smile is world class.

But I think it’s also because their motive to smile is pure joy, innocent as snow.

And when we express our selves unadulterated by politics or gain..

I feel it moves us deeper.

Ritual

Before I start writing in the studio, I burn an incense stick each time.

I take out a sandal wood incense, break it in two, light one half and place it in a holder.

And as the scent rises, I take a moment to feel gratitude that I get to do this again.

Hopefully, the muse will visit me today.

Rumination

Whatever your fuck up is today, just do better tomorrow.

End of rumination.

Enough

Somedays I still can’t believe my son is real.

Yet here he is, squiggling, giggling and babbling with joy.

And as I stare into his eyes and he smiles back, my chest fills with a flood of wholeness I can’t put into words.

And perhaps - I wonder - if this is what ‘enough’ feels like.