I’ve been ramping up my running lately. It’s a type of meditation. Sometimes I just run. Other times I run and listen to music or podcasts.

Yesterday I went for a tempo run in the rain. I listened to the album, “Rave On Andy White” and entered my usual running dream/pain state. I thought of the inspirations I attached to these songs over the years. I thought how those inspirations morph into reminders. Sometimes they are just reminders about the stupid things I used to get inspired about. Other times I am reminded about the type of person I wanted to be.

Andy White sung about Reality Row like it was a bad thing. Maybe he is right?

As a young bloke I think he rather fancied himself as a ‘WockStah’ as he walked down Six String Street in a Groovy Kind of Way. Despite Andy being a bit of a narcissist (show me a young bloke who isn’t) I’ve always loved his cheerful tunes. I think Andy liked to pretend to be some sort of romantic version of Bob Dylan or an Irish version of Billy Bragg, some say he is. I wore out several of his cassette tapes over the years and I always love rediscovering his pop-with-a-hint-of-politics but mostly silly-romantic. Which probably says more about me than Mr White.

Here is a picture of me in the midst of a depressing and life changing time in 1990-ish.

depressed in Pontypridd, Wales. Circa 1990-1

I was probably recently returned from or soon to go to one of the many music festivals around at the time. I remember the Fleadh at Finsbury Park and the Féile in Tipperary. I am sure I was listening to Andy White when Neil, Gareth or Lizzy snapped it.

So, the run was shit. I could barely walk to the bog last night. Andy, as always, was good company on my crap journey. He helped me crack open a few insights along the way. Thanks for that Mr White.

Addendum

I wrote this post 7 years ago and originally called young Andy a bit of a narcissistic wa?ker. I quickly got a comment from @maxwelljohnryan telling me in no uncertain terms that I also sure sound like one. I could do nothing but agree, after all here I am shamelessly writing a blog all about myself. I later clarified the post to say, a bit of a narcissist (show me a young bloke who isn’t). I think I was really writing about myself at the time.

Andy later sent me a message thanking me for my post which just made me more embarrassed. I prefer to forget that what I write here might occasionally be read by someone other than my Mum or my old mate @MJD. This is one of the reasons I switched off the comments. Use email, it’s less ostentatious (my names ruben and you have my domain name, figure it out).

I do not really like having an audience. Shepherding other peoples thoughts and desires is not my aim. What I write is just my own brain vomit, if you want to pick through it that’s your business. But I am rambling.

I have since apologised to old Andy and I encourage you to go buy his latest album, This Garden is Only Temporary - it’s his best yet.