I have this view of life which is essentially that somewhere, sometime it will all settle down and there will be a clear, simple path ahead without twists and turns, sudden drops and the occasional high. I realise this is an entirely mental construct driven by the indolent side of my nature which imagines that rising at 10.00am, wandering along to a local cafe with the newspaper, taking coffee and maybe lunch till sometime around 3.00pm, drifting into a gallery to view a favourite painting, heading home around 6.00pm to an evening meal, some desultory work on my stalled novel, then out to a gig or performance at 10.00pm, home to bed sometime aropund 2.00am is indeed the way forward: repeat until bored. Trouble is, I'm already bored writing it down. It takes no account of family life nor of the need to earn some cash to pay for the papers, the coffees, the lunches and the odd beer at a gig.
But I shouldn't get overly concerned; life has a way of changing whether you want it to or not and, frankly, boredom is not an option. Panic, remorse, guilt, anxiety and infrequent euphoria: these are the emotions I recognise. Present change is represented by my looming redundancy. In the short term it has provided me, as I drag out my notice period, with the opportunity to revert to working part-time. This has facilitated plenty of rehearsal time for Jools and myself, either as a duo or with Bill and Michael, our hoped-for bass-player and drummer, in the resurrected Pilgrim. I've also been able to return to that stalled novel which, while it may never see the light of day in paperback form and certainly not on a Man-Booker shortlist, is fun to do. Shit, with all this spare time I should maybe join one of these writers groups.
Days off have also been put to use in the inevitable job search. I suppose, when I joined 3DReid in 2007, that I thought this will see me out to retirement in 2013. I hadn't reckoned then, as had few others, on the dire consequences of Bankers' Britain for employment in general and mine in particular. You know it's all so wrong when those who made obscene personal gains, bankrupted the country, are bailed out by the real losers, continue to pay themselves imperial salaries and invoke super-injunctions to hide their misdemeanours. So here I am, one of millions of casualties trying to work out how to make myself appealing to a potential employer when I can only offer 18 months before I might retire: almost certainly retire, as companies seem reluctant to hold on to older staff beyond 65.
Of course, my natural inclination is to look at both sides of any eventuality, the good and the bad. Having dealt summarily with the bad above, my mind has now turned to the good: what if I could pick up a series of short contracts; what if I could hire out my wide architectural, management and construction expertise; what if I could contrive to work part-time; what if the indications of future writing work could really be made to pay? If I was working part-time could I really begin to make the music work for me? From that perspective it doesn't appear to be so bad.
So, here I am, in a kind of interregnum, putting out feelers into an uncertain future. I also offer solidarity with others in the same rapidly-filling boat. I have just finished reading How to Change the World by Eric Hobsbawm, which has reminded me of why and how we need collectively to rein in capitalism and its excesses.
The immediate future is not without its fixed points, however. Tomorrow evening Jools and I venture forth as Voodoo Virgins to play two songs in front of a rather awesome crowd at the Voodoo Ballroom composed largely, I have been told (warned?), of professional musicians and musos who will, of course, be closely watching fingers on the fretboard (did he really just play a G major chord in the first position?!) . And then on 13 June I head down to Newcastle on the Megabus for a slightly truncated tour (without a job I'm having to economise) which, I must say, I am really looking forward to. Newcastle got under my skin when I lived there and it's always a joy to return to meet up with old friends and refamiliarise myself with that vibrant city.