How old is Mindful's Vanessa (and other questions I don't have the answer for)

JOURNAL ENTRY

 12th June, Friday

“Soft the wash of rain
 Soft the feathered touch of yarrow
 Soft the call of wood pigeon
 Hidden in ancient trees.
 The canal responds in kind.”

[MUSIC]

WELCOME

The canal-side alders whisper in a friendly wind that sets the water shimmering with night-glow. An old moon waits below the horizon to ride a sky stained with mid-summer light. The canal waits patiently for the night to unfold.

This is the narrowboat Erica narrowcasting into the darkness of a June night to you wherever you are.

Thank you so much for coming, I can't tell you how good this it is to see you. I was really hoping you'd make it tonight. The kettle is singing, the biscuit barrel is full, come inside and welcome aboard.

[MUSIC]

NEWS FROM THE MOORINGS

Brambles rise and tumble in a tangle of thorns and petals along the hedgerows. Swallows dart and dip below the castles of towering cloudscapes in a world of blues and greens. Juvenile magpies, now almost full grown, chivvy and pester their mother. Their insistent cheeps strangely unsuited to their regal plumage. I imagine their mother feels the same! One of the young ewes peels away from the flock and comes over to nuzzle Maggie, muzzle to muzzle. She must be one of the hand-reared orphans who we would meet every morning. Maggie does a play bow, tail up, and wants to play. The ewe looks at her uncomprehending. Almost as if to say, “I am too old for that sort of thing. I am all growed up now!” Is this how Pooh and Piglet felt when Christopher Robbin went to school?

Young green sloes are already beginning to plump, lying among their deep green foliage, reminding me of olives sunning under Greek sky. The elderflower is already nearly over, tiny green pearls of berries are also beginning to show. Fry and stickleback speckle the water. Is it me? Or is it just local to here, but this seems to be a very good year for dogwood? Thick constellations of bright four-petaled stars turn the towpath into swirling galaxies.

I’ve been putting together a plant count of all the wild flowers on a nearby embankment. It’s early days, but the list is already growing long. That is not counting the grasses or looking beyond the most visible plants and those with showy flowers. I am sure there are a lot more to be spotted.   

The ducklings continue to grow and are almost becoming indistinguishable from older juveniles. Mum is ferocious – she needs to be and it serves her well. She’s a real matriarch. Even the gang of young drakes, all swagger and bants, fluster off like scalded kittens when she arrives. 

The last couple of days, the weather has been that wonderful, typical June, mixture. Sunny spells, the odd shower of rain to avoid or enjoy according to preference. Strong winds barrel and bluster down Horse Hill. The Four Apostles graze and doze among the wind-bent grasses. Below them, the wind patterns the canal with sun-fire. But before that, the weather turned, cool and wet. Jumpers were brought back out and rain-wear was hung up, to drip in sad pools. Maggie needed coaxing out for her walks and endured them, with slitted-eyes and gritted teeth. The dog who I have to drag past every swimming bay, now hates the very thought of getting wet. I saw several posts from boaters showing fires once more burning and ironic comments about June weather. We have managed to resist that, but on a couple of mornings have certainly missed having a working heater. A new heater is currently half-way installed, but this being canal-time we have now real idea when it will be completed. Consequently, the boat is a complete mess as goes with any unfinished work.   

[MUSIC]

CABIN CHAT

[MUSIC]

HOW OLD IS MINDFUL’S VANESSA (AND OTHER QUESTIONS I DON’T HAVE THE ANSWER FOR)

Evenfall silently deepens. Although, at this time of year, at this latitude, it never really gets truly dark. It moves through successive twilights; civil, nautical, astronomical. Stretching out across the summer night sky. Shadows shift and darken. A drift-tide from gloaming to gloaming. Evening light never really leaves; it just gently reaches across our bedtime hours to blend into the morning twilight of our new dawns.

At this moment, night is more in feeling than fact, although it is no less night because of it. Even though the sky holds onto a steely light that bleeds across the skyline, the normal rhythms, the ebbs and flows, of life remain. A quietness lengthens, pooling down Horse Hill and spilling along the canal. It is not that everything is asleep. Far from it, now is the time when the crepuscular folk make hay; taking advantage of the long twilights. And that means prey need to keep open a watchful eye. It is just that the pace is different, slower, more measured.  

The wind has begun to drop a little, but the alder sigh and the thickening reeds and rushes still rustle. The Erica rests snug, nuzzling against her mooring lines. There's a little slabby chop on the canal's surface. And I am here, in this small circle of light that shines on this little desk that holds the laptop and a few books (mainly reference, but some poetry and the copy of Miles Hadfield’s An English Almanac, filled with the names of those once famous). And the quietness of night exudes even in here. It’s the best time to write, to think, to just sit and be.

Then I open up the laptop. Messages and notifications flash without the brilliance or life of the dragonfly. Most on my personal accounts relate to the podcast. Not from listeners, they’re welcome, but as far as by inboxes are concerned always the minority.

Every fortnight (at the moment) in the quiet of the Erica’s cosy heart, I sit here in front of a big old 15-year-old, microphone and say to you out there in the darkness of your night, “This is the narrowboat Erica signing off for the night.” Of course, the weather log comes next, but I like that signing off. It feels personal and like the completion of a short journey we have taken together. A ramble or more a saunter down the byways of the night. I click the record button off and the little red led on the microphone goes dark. I turn off the desk light above me and, I too, can feel the night close in around me.

It is actually as simple as that; this podcast. And it is all I want this to be. We stretch the legs of our imagination together, perhaps follow the desire paths and fox-trods of random thoughts and ideas and find ourselves in unexpected places. I generally have no idea where we will end up. I used to call it ‘writing into the darkness’ having no end – and often only a very vague beginning. Letting thoughts and words form their own patterns, make their own sense, trigger memories, or ideas that can spin us into new worlds. However, I recently came across a Japanese practice. It is called zuihitsu ‘running brush’ sometimes translated as ‘following the brush.’ It’s about fluidity, flow over format, weaving together genre and ideas, poetry and prose. I’m doing it a disservice here in simplifying a very sophisticated ancient art form which dates back thousands of years, but I like the image; following the brush. We might say, following the pen. Letting the pen do the walking – see where you end up.

In this way, each fortnight as that little light on the microphone blinks off, together, we have shared a journey – spent some time together in the shared darkness of our nights. I usually feel the better for it. It does me good and I hope you too. It realigns things. And for me, that’s it. That what makes times like these so priceless (literally).

Perhaps that is why I tend to describe this as a narrowcast rather than a podcast. The distinction is all the more defined with all these emails and notifications I get each time I upload a new episode, or when I find myself on a podcasting forum or support network.  It is not for nothing that the podcasting industry calls itself an industry. It is huge and engulfing and it takes itself very seriously. There is big money to be earned and it is global. I could drown in information. Statistics, data, an incessant stream of consciousness – that descries its true nature. Gone are the simple download statistics, these are now framed in new ways each subtly designed to show in an encouraging way how badly you are doing against your competitors – but don’t worry, all you need to do is x, y or Z. Analyse your data, optimise. You’ll get there.

I read that with the advent of the internet we shot from being an information poor society to an information rich one. Initially it was heralded as the great democratising of knowledge (few, at the time, questioned this rather dubious conflation of information with knowledge and the present dangers we encounter of mistaking having some information about a subject to being knowledgeable about it). Quickly we went from being information rich to experiencing information overload. Sometimes, it feels a bit like that when I sit here and gaze at the data and statistics that constantly flash across my screen.

But now that raw data is now helpfully collated for me. Although for whose benefit, I am not quite sure. Ostensibly, it is mine, but there is a nagging suspicion it really isn’t. After all, platforms like YouTube, Apple, and Spotify are essentially vampirical in nature. Their profits depend on my content being successful. Support can often feel like the sting of a cattle prod. A graph might flash. Alert. Was I aware that the listening figures had plummeted in week X? It is there to see, as clear as day. The saw tooth lines of the graph – sharp, angular, uncompromising. And then the sharp slice downwards. It looks like a jagged wound. Look! There were only 37 listeners to this podcast on this day. What’s gone wrong? Here are a few recommendations to help build your listening figures. Well, let’s place to one side the fact that this is just one platform – not figures for the entire listenership (which are almost impossible to get). It’s easy to get carried away – especially when you talk to other podcasters, it is all about figures and global reach. Well, that is not quite true, it’s not really about that at all, but it does seem that this is the only topic of conversation between podcasters. They take graphs like these very seriously. But rather than just dismiss it this time. I look again at that jagged tear in the graph – It captures a particular Wednesday. It’s a Wednesday that I can no longer really recall. Maybe it was grey and rained a bit. People probably waited in line for buses to come and grumbled about the weather, dogs barked, emails were read and deleted, a coffee was left half-drunk on the wall by the river, aeroplanes scissored across the sky in the way that they always do, someone saw a film that made them laugh then cry. A run-of-the-mill, anonymous sort of day for the most. Now unremarked and forgotten. And on that one unremarkable Wednesday, somewhere dotted across this entire globe, 37 people wanted to sit down in quietness and listen to a stranger’s voice and to share with him the mysteries and beauty of their life and the night. For me, I think that is pretty amazing and wonderful!

The latest iteration that has come out from Spotify where episodes are colour-coded according to poor performance (i.e. lower listening figures). Hey! Some of the worst performing episodes are the ones I enjoyed making the most or am the proudest of – so there!

Information is not knowledge and knowledge is not wisdom. We increasingly lack the second and there is a desperate shortage of the latter. It all seems such a long way from a voice talking into a microphone in a tiny study in the back of a small boat in the middle of the night.  

From Google, I got a list of search terms used by people searching for the podcast. Have a guess at the most popular or frequently used search term? Let me stress – FOR THIS PODCAST! Yep, you’re right. It is ‘How old is Vanessa Thomas of the Mindful Narrowboat?’ Come on guys! This is not just one person asking this, this is multiple questions. Of the top 10 most frequently used questions and search terms, this ranks the highest! Why is everyone so obsessed with Vanessa’s age? And more significantly, why on earth would you think I know what it is? And, while I appreciate that there is a certain amount of overlap between Vanessa’s viewing demographic and this podcast’s listeners, why would anyone think that they’d find the answer here?

Okay, so what is the second most commonly asked question? “Who is Vanessa Thomas’ husband?’

Well, I do know the answer to that, and yes, Mr Mindful does really exist and what is more he is as lovely and as funny as Vanessa is – they make an absolutely a perfect pair.

Why am I telling you all this? In many ways, it is entirely irrelevant to this podcast and I certainly treat it all with, at best, caution, but generally ignore it. However, I say it is entirely irrelevant, but it is not. All this is indicative of the wider trends in podcasting – and I mean beyond the drive for and glut of AI generated, produced, and performed podcasts, some of which certainly outperform this podcast.

It is undeniable that podcasting has seen a dramatic surge of interest. This, in turn, has got a lot of attention from the major podcast providers - these are the platforms like Apple, Spotify, YouTube and Amazon through which most people access and listen to podcasts – and who are keen to develop this further. On paper, this looks like a good thing. However, the trend is definitely away from audio only podcasts. Although, this trend was already in evidence, YouTube’s takeover of Google podcasts has clearly strengthened this move. It is still early days, and most podcast platforms are still audio based, the expectation of podcasts to have visual (particularly video) content is growing. This is redefining what a podcast is. Many of the larger podcasts are videoed interviews or chat shows, with the audio feed skimmed off for audio only platforms. There are similarities between radio and television in the later 90s.    

Personally, adding visual content to audio, entirely misses the importance and power of audio. It is something that is very close to my heart and is the real reason why I chose to start podcasting [rather than another format]. So much would be lost if you could see me, here, talking. You would lose that world that you created in your head. I like vlogs and enjoy watching them, but they are doing something very different to what a podcast can do – and they do it very well (Vanessa’s Mindful Narrowboat is a great example). But the key thing is that it is doing something very different to what, say, this podcast is trying to do. The drive towards videoing podcasts, to me, completely defeats the unique magic and power of podcasts.

Where does this leave this podcast? In the short term, everything remains as it is. This podcast, even within the older model of podcasting, has always been located on the margins and done its own thing. Although the systems are not really set up for us, we have nevertheless found a way to flourish. And so, nothing changes there. In the longer term, I am not sure. And I have no answers. But then, at the moment, I don’t think anyone has. AI generated podcasts like AI generated videos will continue to proliferate because, at the moment, they make money and they seem to attract the bigger audiences. Podcasts being redefined as a more visual medium could pose a greater challenge. YouTube already stipulates that it will only accept content with a visual component. At the moment, that can be a still thumbnail type photograph, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that doesn’t change at some point, particularly as I am already getting repeated offers by services to add AI generated images and/or video to my podcast. If that is the case, it might be harder to find platforms that deal with only audio content.

However, and it is a big however, the future isn’t entirely gloomy – or based in a visual world. Already there is a measurable backlash against AI generated content. Also, audio remains an overlooked treasure. I had hoped that podcasts would fill the gap, sadly it appears not. Nevertheless, there is a growing band of people who are recognising the importance of audio and what it can do far better than any other medium. If the traditional idea of podcasting has now be redefined out of existence (or almost, anyway), then that leaves room for new formats for audio to be re-develop and recast this valuable medium.   

As I say, this podcast has, to some extent, always bucked the trend and ploughed its own furrow (to mix metaphors). But it is becoming ever more apparent within the fast-changing world of podcasting that is increasingly the case. I have a very good podcasting host who is standing up for small independent producers like me. That can make it increasingly harder in getting episodes out there (or at least visible). The company I use to host Nighttime on Still Waters, Buzzsprout, has been really good and is definitely in the corner supporting the small independent producers. For example, a couple of weeks back I was notified by Buzzsprout that Spotify had blacklisted and pulled one of my earlier episodes for copyright infringement. Upon investigation, it appears that they (or a third party) had used AI to do a content sweep and because one of my episodes had the same title as an audio book, they removed it with immediate effect. The fact that the episode was an historical exploration of how the night was understood culturally and the audio book was a procedural detective novel with romantic subtext appeared to be ignored. I appealed, and Spotify claimed to have made it available, but I contacted Buzzsprout to see if this was a common thing. Apparently, it is. With 209 episodes and counting, it’s only going to be a matter of time before other episodes are also flagged and this is just on Spotify. I have had issues with YouTube for removing episodes. Fortunately, Buzzsprout contacted me, otherwise I would not have known. 

I have heard that there have also been a number of cases where podcasts have essentially been cloned or significant content taken from them which are then offered as a pay to listen service (sometimes even under the original name with the same logo). I think it is unlikely that this would happen to this podcast, but please know that one of the main reasons for doing this podcast is that it is free to all. Therefore, if you do ever come across anyone or any site (or using my name) requiring payment to listen to this podcast, or contacting you directly for money, it is not me and please report it.   

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t bother mentioning things like this here, but these types of instances are beginning to affect you and your ability to listen to the podcast. So, just be warned, if episodes might suddenly go missing – particularly on the big providers YouTube, Apple and Spotify. Buzzsprout have assured me that they are fully aware of the situation and that they do not withdraw episodes. Therefore, for the full back catalogue, it is much the best to go to the podcasts website, noswpod.com, which is directly linked to Buzzsprout’s main feed.       

All this seems a long, long way, from here, where I am sitting in this little pool of light that falls upon the desktop in front of the microphone with its tiny red light. I wouldn’t normally dream of using this precious time to discuss all this. I have put off doing so for quite some while, and you might have picked up that I have struggled a bit trying to get the tone right. This is not to worry you, or to bore you, or for me to have a rant or complain, or needlessly make a drama out of nothing. However, I am aware that some listeners have had problems with some providers or have come across gaps in episodes. And this is really just to explain, and I hope reassure you, that I am aware and that although things continue to change, this podcast will continue in one form or another.

A couple of weeks back, I had a lovely email from Lee. I won’t read it because it is quite personal, but in it she expressed gratitude for the community that she felt a part of when listening. A community of like minds and like hearts stretched out all over the globe. I too feel that. In an isolating world, it is important that there are ways in which we can still feel a connection. I don’t physically meet listeners very often, but when I do, the one thing that they all say is how much they appreciate the welcome at the beginning. It is funny, because, at first, I was really unsure about whether to keep it. It felt artificial and contrived. I am glad I did, because it no longer feels contrived or artificial. I truly am glad you can join me and I value your company – not because of any marketable metric, but because you help make the darkness a little more sense, a little lighter, a little more bearable.  

One thing Lee says that she loves is hearing from other listeners when I read out their emails or comments and hearing about their worlds so very different to her own up there in a mountain cabin. One of the things I have toyed with doing is asking for listeners to write in (or use the voicemail) to just describe what they see outside their window at night. It doesn’t have to be long, or poetically written, but it would be lovely to get a glimpse of your world. So please feel free to get in touch. The contact details are in the programme notes below.

Before I close, for those of you who are still on tenterhooks about Vanessa’s age. Do I really know it? Yes. What is it? She is 32, of course. It is totally impossible for her to be any other age than 32. Ever since I have known her, she has always been 32, and I am certain she will remain 32 forever and for always.  

Finally, before I switch off the record button, and turn off the light just above my head for tonight. I think there is no better way to end this episode than with fellow boater and writer, Jen Ratcliffe whose words in this piece, I think, sum up so beautifully the heart that this podcast wants to capture and relish:

[READING]

SIGNING OFF 

This is the narrowboat Erica signing off for the night and wishing you a very restful and peaceful night. Good night.

WEATHER LOG