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reverse engineer

I’m working on some new stuff but, while I do that, I’m hoping to go back and tidy up some old stuff too, then I can properly forget the old fitz-stuff.

Problem is, the original documents are lost in the mists of time so I’m struggling to reverse-engineer the text from the kindle books back to a word document, to get the MS back, in its original condition.

I can use a programme to turn the pdf back into a word document but it keeps some of the kindle formatting, which is not good.



I don’t think boys ever grow up. My favourite youtube channel at the moment involves three Aussies dropping heavy objects – javelins, golf balls, anvils – off a 45m tower onto various targets, ranging from huge polystyrene blocks to motorcars.

There’s probably a better use of my time between 10.30-11 in the morning, I just haven’t found it yet.

Anyhow, I quite like the music samples they use on their films, so I checked out some on Spotify and Soundcloud. I tend not to use either because of the sheer volume of material that both contain, too much choice makes me anxious, it fetters me, but the range and quality of music out there is astounding.

Over-abundant choice is exactly why I don’t use Spotify or Soundcloud.



all in

After a long time playing tenor sax, I moved to alto sax. Most people move in the other direction because tenor sax is the cool one: Lester Young, John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins – you can’t argue that tenor is cool. It just is.

Alto sax is more lyrical though; it can be a little screamer, and it’s so easy to play, plus an alto sax weighs a lot less than a tenor, and if you’re busking for hours at a time, that’s not to be sniffed at.

But I always wanted to play soprano saxophone. I love soprano saxophone.

I owned a lovely Yamaha soprano sax, Junko, but had to sell her because we weren’t getting on very well – they’re not easy to play, sopranos, they don’t wail, so they don’t sound much like a ‘saxophone’ anyway, and the tuning is a bitch to control.

On top of that, although I have very even top teeth*, my lower teeth are thrown right out by a dodgy right canine, which leans right over toward the middle of my mouth. Playing tenor or alto, it doesn’t mean much, it might even make my sound more interesting, but on soprano, which has a very small mouthpiece and is subject to the tiniest interference, it can sound like I’ve employed some sort of overdrive pedal to break up and distort the sound.

So tonight I endured another less-than-fruitful practice session with my soprano. In despair I even asked her, ‘what are we going to do?’

And after some thought she said to me, ‘listen to Steve Lacy. And Branford Marsalis.

‘And be all in.’

So I leapt from that particular cliff, and am hoping to grow wings on the way down.





  • I had a couple of molars kicked out of my mouth in a fracas with three body builders some years ago*, but my front teeth are very even.



  • Have I told that story? I must set it down some time.




I don’t watch television but now and again I use Frankie’s Netflix password to find a show I can watch.¬†Every time, every single time, I find nothing that I want to watch. It’s all the same. Every programme has got that inky-black 21st century sheen.

I have more fun closing my eyes and making up a story in my head.



You ever been in that position, mid-game, where you’ve got four Ms, two Ys and a D, so you decide to lose a turn and just flip your tray of letters into the pile, mix it all up and start with an entire fresh set?

That’s me. Right now.


Injured my knee walking back in August, haven’t been able to train since. Until this afternoon: three rounds with Danny James.

Feels great.


Over lunch with Lishman we agreed that we both have enough money to survive, and skills to sell if necessary. So writing is a thing we do through choice, or by compulsion. Despite Samuel Johnson’s judgement, because I don’t do it for money, I can do it whichever way I choose. I have no patron to please.


The nights are getting longer, the days shorter, I’m waking before six and the sky is still dark, the wind is picking up and the temperature is veering up and down.

Autumn in the north.



I checked my 3310 yesterday afternoon to see if there were any messages. There was one, from myself, and it said “How does right feel?”

I vaguely remember texting myself on Thursday, I do it to remind myself of tasks or appointments, but I don’t remember asking that question.

I might try and answer it.