The Conservative Party is the single biggest threat to the prosperity and wellbeing of all ordinary people in the UK.
I miss London.
Dogs AND cats: you don't have to choose.
The Fall were amazing from beginning to end. Retrospective listening to their LPs and CDs has soundtracked my year; this has not been an entirely popular move in my house.
Social media can be a force for good: my music corner of Twitter is full of lovely people (just avoid that rancid cesspit, Facebook).
Caleb Femi's poetry collection, Poor.
Discogs.
Reality is gibberish (I saw Jason from Sleaford Mods being interviewed at the End of the Road festival in 2019 and he used this phrase. I wrote it down on my phone for future use; now seems like the right time).
I can happily survive on a rotating diet of vegetable chilli, butternut tagine and spinach and aubergine curry.
Cardomon pods are actually called cardomom pods.
Bill Shankly was wrong: football is not more important than matters of life and death.
One of my neighbours has more power tools than Black and Decker.
The BBC is still the best: Small Axe, Normal People, I May Destroy You.
My Scottish/Irish/northern English heritage has never felt more important to me.
Nubya Garcia's album, Source.
I'm glad I don't live in London anymore.
There can always be a new low in being a Millwall supporter.
England Is A Garden: a 30-year-old British Asian band made the album of the year.
Despair is cumulative.
