Friendships : “Not Going Out”

No, we’re not going to discuss the BBC sitcom (which, in my opinion is highly underrated), but I am going write about what happens when you temporarily become a miserablist and hide in your fortress of solitude*

*back bedroom, with an Xbox One, Ashes to Ashes box set and Gin.

Last summer was mental; I turned 40, stayed in a suite in a five-star hotel in Funchal, partied with my mates on the island then came back and partied some more on my birthday (Leeds, Skylounge, because sometimes I’m a pretentious prick who forgets who he is). However, at the end of it all I felt a little empty, maybe it was the epic comedown, maybe it was the realisation that at 40 I might actually have to be grown-up for a change, I really don’t know. What I do know is that it hit me like a freight-train; all those years of being the party animal and the man who made everything happen on and off campus seemed to be extinguished in an instant.

I started to become withdrawn, convinced that I wasn’t worth anything and avoided anything remotely social. At the same time I would see my friends posting pictures of nights out on Bookface and I kept wondering why I wasn’t invited, I became convinced I’d been abandoned (thrown to the wolves, if you will). As much as I put on a big front and pretend to be a grumpy, misanthrope, I love people. I love my friends and I love meeting new people, sharing their experiences and learning from them. That’s how I’ve always worked, despite being painfully shy at times I force myself to get out there and say hello, usually it works well, though sometimes I over compensate and end up being a twat. Still, we all have our hobbies.

As New Years Eve loomed, I began to make plans to either leave the country and hide in a hotel somewhere or turn the house into a bunker and ride it out. At this point, in stepped my best friend of 38 years, wingman and surrogate younger brother. I’d been persuaded to go to a NYE dinner dance. He came over, stayed here with his girlfriend and for the first time since September I was sociable. Sort of.

Mike’s visit made me remember what I’d lost, but in the back of my swirling mind I was convinced that it still shouldn’t be down to me to organise everything; the question I kept asking myself was “Why should it always be me who organises nights out, why can’t I just sit back and let people invite me out for a change? Why am I always the catalyst?”

I pondered this over a lunch with one of my friends (yes, the irony being I went out to a restaurant to discuss not going out), I pretty much poured my heart out to her and she gave me a simple answer; “Paul, the reason why people wait for you to organise something is because you’re good at it. You always joked you were like Van Wilder, now stop being such an old woman about it and get back to doing what you do best”.

My one last fuck-up was not going to Newcastle for my friend’s 30th birthday. To be fair, there was a lot going on here, I was maxed out at work and I’d committed myself to a lot of other things. At the time it was the right thing to do, but on reflection I could have made it, given a few changes. Still, that’s nothing that can’t be fixed.

So that was it, I ever so gently I eased myself back into going out again, I switched off the voice in my head that told me I had to wait to be invited somewhere and just got on with it. The second howling irony is that in the last two weeks I’ve been on half a dozen nights out that have all been organised by other people and i haven’t had to lift a finger. I’ve met some old friends, some new friends and some very good acquaintances that are on the cusp of being friends, but I’m hoping they want job. I haven’t felt this loved and this alive in a long time. I feel….human.

I guess what I’m saying (in my usual verbose way) is that friendships should never be neglected, no matter what’s going on in your life it’s important to not forget the value of those around you. You don’t even need to be in the same city, as long as you have time to chat you will always be able to catch up and make plans for some real fun, even more so now that the summer is on its way.

I’m a very fortunate man, university, contracting, Twitter and gigs have exposed me to some of the most interesting, funny, warm and talented people I could ever have hoped to meet, just do me a favour and don’t ever let me forget it.

“Throw those curtains wide, one day like this a year would see me right”.

Fuck The Blackout Pt.3 – “So long and thanks for all the fish”

It’s been a week since the end of The Blackout (eleven days from my perspective, seeing as my journey ended at Manchester), bearing in mind the timeline and also Gav’s tumbr post I figured now would be an appropriate point to respond in kind.

My TBO experience was relatively short-lived compared to others (see Pt.1) but in that time I’ve been hugely privileged to have listened to some of the greatest music I’ve ever experienced. Soaring vocals, tight riffs, driving bass lines and percussion you could set the atomic clock by. Aside from the technical aspects, what I loved about The Blackout was the central message of hope, coupled with believing in yourself while partying and raising a middle finger to the world.

If it wasn’t for TBO I wouldn’t have enjoyed my two and a half-year road back into metal (it was a long time coming, after wallowing in the indie swamps for the best part of a decade, bored, directionless and confused). I’ve also met some fabulous new people along the way and been utterly humbled by their willingness to help me out with tickets, travel and for being kind enough to adopt me into their family.

So, I offer you my most heartfelt thanks; for all the reasons I’ve written here my world has changed immeasurably for the better, all thanks to you guys. I hope my experience shall form part of a huge, very positive legacy that The Blackout has left behind.

I wish you all the very best for the future, good luck, good hunting, happy trails and as always, Fuck The Blackout.

Contracting for Beginners : My story plus some advice

After I finished uni in 2009 (mature student, you’d think I’d have known better) I sort of fell into contracting. My first job started precisely two hours after my final exam, just enough time to get home, get changed and drive to the client’s site. I didn’t even have time to decompress, but with bills to pay I had little choice. It was a temp job, with an hourly rate that was just enough to survive one; no frills, no big holidays, literally just treading water.

However, it’s much easier to hunt for the ideal job when you’re already in a role that’s paying the bills; there’s less pressure and you aren’t prone to making rash decisions. As much as it sucks being in a dead-end job it’s better than scratching around on benefits.

As that temp job ended I took another contract at a renewable energy company, six weeks as their business analyst, hopefully leading to a permanent gig. It was a perfect fit for my degree and the money wasn’t bad. I grafted my arse off, impressed people and fitted in nicely. At the end of the six weeks the client wanted to keep me on, but they didn’t have enough work for me until at least three months ahead. However, they did then ask me to move onto their construction project, assisting on project planning and management (Project Technical Clerk) and they offered me £120 per day for this (standard starting rate as a junior contractor). So less than a year after graduating I’d gone from pretty much minimum wage to £600 a week just for turning up. At this point, a permanent role went out of the window and I became a contractor.

The rest of the story is mere periphery; I worked hard, had my rate increased and moved on to my next client. I also changed roles to Cost Analyst (turns out I’m pretty good with money and forecasting where it’s all going).

The whole point of this post is to encourage others to follow my lead, if you’re reading this you’re either bored with you job, unemployed or maybe even just ended a twelve-year career in music and you’re trying to avoid flogging underwear in Primark, so here’s some advice on how to get started;

1. Identify your skills – People in contracting are either at the sharp end (Mech Engineers, E&I Engineers, Scaffolders, Piping specialists etc) or they’re in project management/project controls (Project Engineers, Planners, Cost Analysts, Cost Engineers, Document Controllers). if you’re looking to start out in contracting in an office-based role I can recommend being a Tech Clerk – you’ll start on circa £600 per week and you’ll be able to learn a lot about the business as you go along. If your skills are in IT, you might wish to consider a web development role, IT sales or junior business analyst. A quick google search will tell you everything you need to know. For the record, if you are competent with MS Office and have good organisational skills then you’ll easily be able to start as a Tech Clerk.

2. Choose your sector – the main areas for contracting UK and worldwide are petrochems, oil&gas, renewables, nuclear, aerospace and IT. Most of the office-based roles I’ve suggested above can be transferred between sectors easily, thus increasing your potential client-base. For your first role I suggest going for something close to home as your hourly/day rate might not be enough to cover travel/accommodation. However, a spot of negotiation with the client may yield a higher rate or paid expenses.

3. Get set up – Dead simple; make sure your CV is polished and really sells your key skills. the same goes for LinkedIn – set up a profile and use that to market your personal brand…urgh….yes, I know that’s such a twatty thing to do, but the key to contracting is networking as the majority of roles don’t go out to open market. Finally, decide if you want to be PAYE, Umbrella Company or Ltd Company as a means to receiving your salary. Again, google all three options to decide what works for you, for the record I have my own Ltd Company, though that does mean having the responsibilities of being a company MD (not huge, but a fair amount of things to set up initially including company registration, business banking, insurance and engaging a good accountant).

4. Find a role – There are a few ways to do this, firstly register your CV and profile with one of the multitude of contracting websites (one of the largest in engineering is https://www.oilandgasjobsearch.com/ or for IT go to http://www.computerfutures.com/en/home) Recruiters and agents regularly scour these to fill roles and will likely contact you directly. There are also specific contracting agents/consultancies that you can contact to register for work with, such as; Rullion, Orion, Matchtech, Fircroft, Morson, Wood-Group PSN, Petroplan, Hays Recruitment, Roevin, NES UK and Faithful & Gould and Gardiner & Theobold (put any of these into Google for full contract and registration details). you should also use LinkedIn to build your network and use the in-built job search function there too.

The best thing about contracting is that you control how and when you work; you can have multiple clients, you can negotiate your own rates and you’re free to move from project to project as you see fit.

I’ve covered the basics here (and most of this applies to sectors outside of engineering – IT, media, NHS, local government), but if anyone reading this wants to know more or needs any advice then feel free to contact me here or via Twitter @northernvice I’m also happy to help with CV reviews and LinkedIn set ups

Fuck The Blackout Pt.2 – Endings and New Beginnings

It’s Sunday, March 29th and it’s the morning after the night before, my Twitter TL is awash with tales of drinking, Travelodge lurgie, injuries, tears of joy, sorrow, laughter….you know the drill.

I was one of the people who didn’t go to Merthyr, on Friday I had a last-minute chance to get a ticket, but the issue with hotels and a niggling doubt in the back of my mind made me decide to sit it out. History will be my judge as to whether this was the right decision to make, but I’m a big believer in always going with your gut instinct.

As I said in my previous post, a band splitting is not the end of the world, certainly not when it ends on good terms and the fanbase are treated to a farewell tour. Happy memories and closure are the key here. However, what I am struggling with is the effect of this on some of the most fabulous people I met earlier this week at the Manchester gig. It’s tough seeing everyone upset and frustrating that I couldn’t be there last night to do anything about it. As I told someone yesterday, I give good hugs; actual, rib-breaking “trust me, it’s gonna be fine, now stop crying and man-up” hugs, not poncey air-hugs, as practiced by socialites, fashionistas and terminal dickheads worldwide.

As shitty as it is right now, I know everyone will be fine, my little gig family will see the sun again and smile and TBO will all go off and do whatever is necessary to put tiles on the roof and food on the table (even if that does mean working in the lingerie section in Primark, which I feel is actually a great career move)

So onwards we go, thanks to The Blackout I have met a lot of really good people who I wouldn’t otherwise have met. Inspired by this I’ve decided that the party is far from over, on the contrary it’s only just getting started. I’m planning a group outing to Leeds Slamdunk and everyone’s welcome. Music is something that divides opinion, but it also unites us, and I’m on a mission to keep the vibe going.

Fuck The Blackout Pt.1 – In which, Paul decides “You can shove indie up your arse”.

Recently I found myself once again in the position of seeing a band split up, to the casual observers among you this may not seem like the end of the world and as a man of a certain age I’d be inclined to agree. However, in this instance dear reader, I beg forgiveness, for I am to wallow in teenage angst.

For this though, we need to start at the beginning…

Back in late 2012 I’d reached the point where I was sick of what the UK music press had decided fitted the “indie” genre. The NME had all but disappeared up its own arse with “this week’s favourite band that we’re telling you to listen to, otherwise you can’t be in our nasty wanky clique”, meanwhile Q Magazine and Mojo seemed to serve only as coffee table material for lovers of middle-class dad rock.

Basically, I was bored, so bored with a genre that had become bloated and failed to resemble its early 80s Manchester beginnings. UK indie might as well have been a set of manufactured bands, dressed in red chinos and v-necked t-shirts, drinking organic pale ale from a recycled preserves jar. Oh, wait…

Something had to give, eight years previously I’d stopped listening to metal (I’m using that as a catch-all title for the many sub-genres) and I knew I had to go back to it. My eldest son stepped in and brought me up to speed on what I’d missed. He also suggested The Blackout; “They’re noisy bastards from Wales, Dad. You’ll like them”. I’m prepared to admit he was right, which is really annoying.

So that’s how I ended up following The Blackout, not so much out of curiosity, but out of sheer necessity; music has always regulated my moods, it lifts me, it calms me, it keeps me focused when all around is chaos, I simply cannot function without it. Above all, I found something in TBO that was lacking elsewhere, the music had a message; “Hope”.

What are you looking at?

…and so it begins.

I haven’t blogged in….well, roughly three years after I deleted my previous blog without archiving any of the material I’d written. It’s hard to know where to begin, starting over is a daunting prospect, so I guess I should do a quick bio.

I’m Paul, some of you know me as @northernvice and I’m at that awkward age…40 I’m a splintered soul; part Tony Wilson, part Tony Stark, academic, libertarian, father, son, music lover, hopeless romantic, incorrigible flirt.

At this very moment I’m a minor player in my own life-story, lucky enough to be surrounded by people who indulge my flights of fancy.

A man with a finer mind than I once said “When you have to choose between truth and the legend, print the legend” – I’ll leave to you to decide what’s real, your version of reality is precisely none of my business.