Solitude

The upshot of being left to live alone for a week and a half is the realisation that this is what it’ll be like when I’m ready and financial stable enough to move out of the same house as my parents. It’s very cost effective, I must admit. I’ve saved on having to go out and buy things during my working lunchtime (the regular habit until this week) and unwittingly pre-prepared lunches by virtue of making far too much pasta at the weekend and dishing it out into plastic takeaway cartons that everyone keeps by law.

I’ve moved entertainment operations downstairs to the larger communal spaces instead of confining myself to the tiny box room. Now the big TV in the living room is reserved for games and Netflix-based entertainment, whilst the kitchen is a place of music and podcast listening thanks to the amplification from the large Bluetooth speaker going unopposed.

Singing along or laughing out loud goes without shame (mostly internalised shame, thanks sense of self-consciousness) where usually my behaviour would actually be much more hermitic. Essentially, having the place to myself has bestowed upon me a fleeting, yet very real, sense of freedom that I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, without worry about the perception of myself by others, within reason inside the confines of these four walls on this plot of land in the North West of England.

The downside, of course, is that blissful solitude shares a fine borderline with crippling loneliness. Fortunately, I’ve been able to stick to the better side for the most part, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t had to straddle that line with great care so as not to fall over to the other side.

I’m not going to start moaning about a lack of companionship right here, lest I throw myself over that line into a pit of blankets, ice cream and crying. But it does make me wonder if the future of living on my own will drag up the darkness over time and I become obsessed with the idea of being sealed away from all human contact – friends and family – despite what everyone else wants, ultimately leaving me a sad and bitter old man whose never loved.

But then I just think about getting a dog and that seems to keep my sanity on track.

---

It’s amazing how one drummer and one bass player can effectively create sounds that, on first listen, seem to come from a band of several others. These guys managed to astound us (well, the royal “us”, by which I mean “me, but I assume others as well”) with they’re debut album three years ago and have left us (see above) hungry for a follow up.

The lead single from the soon-to-be second album features the kind of relentless thumping drum beats and low-growling bass distortion, interspersed with the occasional meowing wail, that made Royal Blood sound somewhat generic yet distinctive at the same time. It also provides a strong soundtrack to experiences like driving down the motorway of a sunny afternoon or, evidently, watching lots of naked people drowning in walls made of milk.

Royal Blood – Lights Out