Some thoughts for the day I am getting down to make sure I am consistently writing and getting it out there. It may not all be good, but it is true.
Sunday 22nd February 2026
I who have free will, but no self restraint.
I’ve recently attempted to start my mornings by listening to the radio and scrolling through Substack. Usually radio 3, as it tends to play nice classical music without the snobbier parts of a station like Classic fm (sorry. But I can’t hear the ‘travel is knowledge’ ad again without wanting to punch through something in my nearest Waitrose, to make those implicit in that section of the class system suffer some consequence). Late at night radio 3 plays some utterly bizarre stuff too, which I love. 10 minutes of throat singing with the occasional piano note was last night. Diamanda Galas without all the death seemed to be where that was uncomfortably sitting.
Though mornings reserved for something a little less unsettling, while I drink coffee and flick through Substack articles and notes. It’s much nicer than the news, for sure. Also better than my social media which tends to be a whiplash of death, Japan travel advice videos, corruption, cute animal videos and why if you don’t do this thing someone will tell you if you pay them (link in bio) - you will meet a painful agonising end. So as I’m waking up it’s a much gentler start to the day if I want to be fairly mindless.
I don’t really know what I’m on Substack for as a reader yet. I know I like funny personal essays, think pieces, diaries. But I’m still finding my feet with it all.
The algorithm however has decided that I’m mostly interested in low/no tech life. Living without a smart phone. Casting aside the shackles of social media.
In a way, yeah I absolutely am. I’ve been making a very conscious effort to not be sucked into my phone and get caught in a mindless loop of scrolling. Though the articles I get shown are more extreme measures. Someone who cannot be trusted at all, so they have chained a smartphone to a wall and can only access it for 15 minutes a day before someone comes in with a hammer and beats them to death. Someone has decided they will only now communicate through extinct bird calls or by morse code. Someone has taken all the technology from their house and burnt it in a ritual sacrifice along with their least favourite relative in order to bring happiness and prosperity back to their life.
Hyperbole, perhaps. These aren’t real - but that’s how some of them read to me.
Though as a man with free will and very little restraint, I did need to take some of it on board.
So now I have a physical radio/cd player combo that I put the radio on, rather than from a phone app. And for days like today when I want to go run some errands without my phone, a cd walkman.
I also got to adventure out and get some favourite albums on CD, to join the discs I already had that were hidden in the depths of the tech graveyard that is the cupboard under the TV.
Charity shops of course can be a treasure trove for older media. Today when doing a crawl between them I saw so many Eva Cassidy and Il Divo albums that I felt compelled to write it down in my notebook, as it began bordering on the absurd. My personal finds today were the best of Ute Lemper and the English recordings of Charles Aznavour, so thankfully someone with more taste had died or at least gave up their collection.
I find when I’m without my phone I get more curious and perceptive, which as someone who often works from anecdotes, observations and things happening to them- can absolutely be a benefit.
As I’ve said on here before, I’m making a conscious effort to be more inquisitive. Though having no phone to distract me at all when I’m out and about just makes me fire on all cylinders. Or at least different cylinders. The sort of cylinders that could perhaps edge me further into local character territory, but ultimately I think it’s far too late for me to avoid that anyway. I’m too far gone.
In a cafe today I bumped into a friend who had moved to Brighton a while back but I hadn’t seen around yet, and proudly showed them my new cd walkman and the cd’s I had hidden in the internal pocket of my bag. Then once their friend they were meeting arrived and they were saved from my relentless jabbering, I turned my attention to every dog that came in and walked past me. I saw some very fine bulldogs, Italian greyhounds and sausage dogs. With the appearance of each one I would mutter “a little baby” under my breath and stare lovingly in the dogs direction.
A couple came in, who roused a sudden loud coo from the girls working behind the counter - I couldn’t see what it was they were coo-ing at. ‘This is Buttons’ - more coo-ing ensued in the direction of something in the mans arms - I began to panic that I wouldn’t see what was known as Buttons. They were turning to go to the other side of the cafe and whatever it was they were holding was so small it was not visible from the side. Its Brighton, so Buttons could have been anything. I once saw a woman get on the bus with a cockatiel that had a sign that said ‘I AM NOT HERE FOR YOUR AMUSEMENT’ and I have a friend that used to walk her Tegu (a very large lizard) called Mister Susan, on a leash. As it could have been anything I was simply not willing to go on not knowing, so I began in an almost spell like chant to myself “Show me the baby. Show me the baby. Show me the baby” and they did.
Lost in a giant pink jacket, tiny headed, tongue out, eyes light blue from cataracts or blindness or from seeing the future - was Buttons. And my god was he magnificent.
As someone without a phone today, I have done an artistic interpretation of Buttons the Chihuahua for you all. Watercolour, Acrylic & Pen.
Thank you.
