The Science of Inspiration Over the years I have had the following question, or versions of it, a lot:

And so, in this week's Vlog, recorded in a nice field in Kent when I went wandering off during a wedding and wrote some songs over the sound of the echoing disco, I answer that question!

Enjoy. And if you have any of your own questions for future Vlogs, do let me know.

Meanwhile, I had one of the loveliest days in London I've had in ages today. I was treated to free celebratory coffees by my all knowing barristo (barristos are much more intuative than psychics), I edited that vlog up there, then I got on a train and ran all the way up Crouch Hill for a delicious luncheon of chicken wings and barbecue sauce with my little brother Alexander Velky and his daughter Sybil, who was amazingly well behaved and didn't throw bits of carrot at the barstaff once.

I then went two stops down the line, running into Video Highway starlett and very tattooed latex clothing designing superstar Nina Kate along the way, which was most fortuitous as I'd been meaning to ring her to find out who's the best person to ink comic book tattoos these days. Natrually she was on route to visit the wife of a tattooist who also happnes to draw for Marvel comics. Pow.

I met BJ, my Godson Kio, and his big brother Hanzo in Gospel Oak (see above). Hanzo was most enamoured with my glasses, but didn't want to paddle, and repeated as much until we stopped trying to get him to paddle and went for a nice walk up a hill, upon which we truned around and were stunned by a panoramic view of London, which momentarily stunned us all.

After that I went to Camden to find birthday presents for my six year old neice Sophie Ella De Bun Bun. The place felt more magical than it has since I was first there 14 years ago, full of wonder at the stalls and the punks and the Good Mixer, whihc i'd spent my teens reading and dreaming about. Camden seemed to be dusted with magic today, perfect shops I'm sure never existed before popped up like they do in Terry Pratchett novels and supplied wonderful gifts, I had the best smoothie I think I've had that wasn't made by me, and I couldn't go five paces without someone stopping to say hi and complement me on my glasses, or my last mixtape.

Now the sun is setting over Nu Olympia, my beautiful wife, just back the future Mrs Velky's hen night, is radiating happily on the sofa sharing Good News with her sister, and my little brother Zef Cherry Kynaston and his fine young lady person Kelly, who recently moved down from Cornwall to a nice flat a few miles up the road are on their way over to spend the evening with us.

Scrub that, they just turned up, raving about the cable car they took from Victoria to Greenwich this afternoon, so I better go. I realise as I write this that my family, and London, are both things I have taken for granted somewhat over the years. So let me say right now, while this clarity is upon me, I love you Family, and I love you London.



Cloud Life

Happy new week gang! I type to you via a nice chunky white wireless Fisher Price keyboard from my hotdesk at my Mum's hobbit hole in the country. That up there is my view right now. It is a very nice view indeed, and a damn sight nicer than the view of the train station I have from my house, not that its a particularly nasty train station or anything, and not that I am complaining, because it is very convenient living in such close proximity to a train station.

Now I come to think of it, I hae enjoyed some pretty great views over the years... mainly in the early years, and mainly thanks to my Mum and her insistence of living as far away from The City as possible. Here's the view from our house in Dyffryn Nantlle:

And here's our view from Flagstaff Villa in Penmon:

Of course, when I was living amidst those amazing Tolkianesque landscapes, I thought the most amazing view in the world was that of the M6 from my Polish granddad's council flat. I was a funny boy.

Anyway. My applogies for the photos of photos, but in setting up my Mum's hilarious little computer that looks like a little robot in the living room I have disconnected it from the scanner and plugging that in would be too much of a bloody palava Still, taking photos of photos and emailing them to one's self with one's mother's iPhone is pretty Future. And the whole process of getting set up and able to work in her little hobbit house aws similarly NEXT and remarkably painless. My Mum reminded me that I used to have to lug my big tower PC on the train with me when I used to come and visit, and now all I have to do is chuck a few files on a rubber Toughdrive, synch my Google account, download Tweedeck and Dropbox, and I'm set. All hail The Cloud, another ace thing about Living In The Future.

Now then. I just remembered that I have yet to announce the winners of the Post Stuff To Entertain Each Other While I'm In Paris Competition. Well now I have. Sorting Hat decreesthat the winners are...

daprimeminster and Daniel!

Send me an email with your T Shirt sizes and your address, and your prizes will be sent out on the Thursday post run when I am back in Llindain. Congratulations to you both, and congratulations to everyone that took part and posted all the awesome stuff. You guys rule like Slick Ricky.

Oh, and shout out Tego and the RWD Gangster House, for posting The Weed Song, and all that other funky stuff. We finally have a decent UK equivalent to NahRight/Rapradar. Props on stilts.


So I fell alseep on the sofa after 5, and was awakened gently by Super Phil at 6:20, and it transpired Bird left my bag with my passport in it at the venue last night. But Bird's got me another ID card, so we're outside waiting for Jeff to pick us up at 6:30. And at midday we're in LA, and soon after that we're in Interscope's offices,and I'm filling a bag with Nirvana, Guns N Roses, Gilbert And Sullivan, Dre, Peter Gabriel, Police and other such back catalogue. Jimmy Iovine has a signed letter from Tupac and a video console that won't switch on. And loads of ideas. A balcony. A lush view. LA is lush to look at, from these places of advantage. Like, later we visit Jeff and Trent's, and there's this fucking alien cat that loves me, and an incredible, incredible view, of this desolate wilderness spattered with money.

It was a lovely day.

But in the nighttime it is hard not to see that LA is awash with cunts. It is a sad and massive amount of cunts, and I am not sure whether it is sad because this is what the world did to them, or because this is what they do to the world, or because they are cunts, and you can see their faces rotting right in front of your eyes.