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The sound was hollow. The clunk of the pedals, the soft thud of felted piano keys. There was no melody, no music. Only the mechanical workings of the piano, hammering out its silent, messy beat. Mouse had always heard those sounds as background noise, something that lived within another noise. Alone, they were strange. Sad. Maddening. He tried to pull music from the rhythm, a song hidden beneath the padding and clunking. But there was nothing.

Some time passed. Mouse’s hand tightened around the heavy tumbler glass. His eyes squeezed shut, as if to concentrate enough to trap some thread of sound inside his mind. A sharp ache bloomed across his forehead. He had been clenching his jaw without noticing. He opened his eyes. The bar was dim, smoky. Cigar smoke seemed to hang low in the air. Still, the padding and clunking. Still, no notes. The sound was difficult to listen to, and impossible to block out.

It now made no sense. How could those same keys, those pedals, ever make music? Even with melody, how could this mechanical thing possibly work?

He scanned the room. Couples laughed, groups chattered, drinks clinked. No one else seemed…

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Life focussed on community, friendship, offline communications, a hug, the sea, the land, growing something. That’s real life. I know it sounds like flowers in your hair, hippy bullshit, but it’s not, the blue zones in Japan, Greece, Italy and Costa Rica are fucking proof. No one is braiding each other’s hair or living in communes and fighting over bread (mostly). They’re talking, baking, growing, fucking, smoking, drinking and laughing. No bullshit, just purpose and community. We are the ones who have it wrong, and it’s so, so recent when this change started, we’re so fucking sure we’re supposed to be locked to our phones, online communities and the TV or more recently and infinatly worse, reels and… well it’s shit, we all know it. We enjoy junk food but at least we know it’s fucking junk, we should be honest about the junk content we’re taking on board en masse as we are about food. Junk food in moderation, junk content in moderation.

The average screen time of someone in the UK is now over 7 hours. 7 HOURS. That’s time looking at a screen, and much more importantly, time not spent looking at family, friends, the fire, going for a walk. I’m sat writing now, and I use my phone, but I'm scared, I'm scared for what this means for society. We crave simplicity, if we want to live long happy lives, then the goal should be to try and live like the long and happy people who live today. A more simple life. I'm not talking about removing all technology or living like the Aamish (I have no idea if that has 2 a’s but it sounds like it does) I'm just saying we need more simplicity, I know its possible, because ive seen it, and so have most people over the age of 30-35. Only 50-60 years ago we still existed in communities, ate in groups, spoke to each other. I actually remember growing up in Middleton on Cowling where we would have galas and maypole dances, and I know that sounds like some Snufkin bullshit, but it’s just how we lived. That was only 30 years ago. This level of stress and anxiety is new, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise

That level of simplicity changes the way we relate to each other and how…

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If Scotland has its kilts and pipes and passionate Highland pride, what does an Englishman like me have? I'm very proud to be from Yorkshire, but I sometimes struggle to find great pride in being English.

We don’t get the romance of rebellion or the grand tale of being conquered and clawing our way back from the jaws of defeat. English history is one of dominance, and dominance doesn’t age well in the telling of tales, and so our history is messier and much more oppressive. We did build those royal monsters down on the quay, sure, but we used them to do things we can’t undo. We dominated half the world, and in place of pride, we in modern England feel kind of quiet, apologetic and often embarrassed.

As I sit here thinking about it, I am realising my pride in England is there, and it’s strong. It doesn’t scream the national anthem or have much respect for our royalty or wave a red and white flag. For me personally, pride is in the way the stone changes from Yorkshire stone to…

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So Ive just gone though some of the things I used to write and I came across an old WordPress that I used to use, it was mostly the angsty jottings of a man who was, at the time, finding who he was supposed to be, but on it I found something I love, something relevant to who I am now and my current writing.

I know it makes me sound like some sort of Snuffkin-style character, but every Thursday back in 2018, I used to do a round trip in the morning. I used to go to Ingleton, followed by driving to Malham Cove and walking up Gordale Scar for my lunch. I would sit and eat a ham, onion and boiled egg sandwich behind a waterfall and write poems in a rather damp council notebook. I never was good at long sprawling poetry, not for lack of trying, but I used to really enjoy writing Haiku.

This is one I wrote on the 13th of June 2018 called “Healing ground”, and I'm happy to say I'm very proud of it. - Check it out…