From the archive / Dear diary – Me as Tony Hancock, Jack Bruce and Andy Fraser -but not all at the same time. Lucid dreaming, Stevie Nicks (unrelated),self-indulgence and, err – that’s it.

Dear me. What a miserable day last Friday was. Too much paper work. Either that or I'm just plain inefficient. Probably the latter. Not only do I feel like Tony Hancock, when I glance in the mirror I look like him too. S**t!

Gloom relieved by some very kind emails. Now receiving at least 20 a day and none of then are spam. Just enquiries from in the main, frustrated people who feel they have been let down by retailers (in general or specific), equipment (seems like the more you spend, the more unreliable it is - said a Levinson owner), miserable importer/distributor reactions to unreliability (“x’ says its my fault) and so on. If I apply the metric of effort to profit, answering this quantity is daft. On the other I like doing it. Another bl**dy dilemma. I’ll park that thought for now.

Had to concentrate, so music in the office was few and far between. Stevie Nicks, Little Walter (of course) and the Temptations ‘Psychedelic Shack’ remains on the desk un-played. But not unloved.

Visitors to the Stereonow site is higher than ever. Average actions/visit is 2.3 during past 14 days. 2.6 during past 7 days. 3.0 yesterday. Moving in the right direction. But still pondering what it means in terms of money? Now pondering if this is more of a hobby rather than a business. Well, of course it is. Then wonder if it is too self-indulgent. Then wonder if self-indulgence is wrong. Then ponder what ‘wrong’ means in the context of running a venture (hobby, business or what?) towards the end of one’s working life. Stop! Too much living in the past or future. Must try to live more in the present. Break the habit of a lifetime. Should be a doddle - right? Oh wow, this is sooooooooo therapeutic.

Make a mental note to recommence bass lessons. A tight band in pubs doing Small Faces, Who, Free, Cream covers seems a very attractive proposition, and a dream. Apparently some dreams come true. Briefly see myself onstage with my Jack Casady Signature and tiny Fender combo-amp playing like Jack Bruce or Andy Fraser. Image soon dissolves. Might try to instigate Lucid Dreaming technique again. Seemed to work a bit. Might work again. Big grin (mentally) as I recall long conversation with Pete Townshend and Richard Thompson in the lucid dreams. Can’t remember a damn thing they said though. Left with the impression it made sense – at the time – in the dream.

Ho hum. Back to the real world. Not so bad really. Middle East has not pressed the nuclear strike go buttons just yet. I can still listen to music. Have a vast, well hundreds really, of acquaintances around the world who I’ve never met and probably never will. And food on the table. And I'm off to see the Frobisher & Gleeson designer on Tuesday. Dinner with a dear friend on Wednesday. Make a note to be happy. Then wonder what happy is. Not having more possessions. That’s for sure. Or is it? Realise that ‘must have’ CD list now up to 63. Bug**r