One Order

This week it was announced that on their tour of North America, New Order would no longer feature founding member Stephen Morris and his wife, Gillian Gilbert, due to health reasons. And as bassist Peter Hook has not been in the band for two decades, the only original member will be Berbard Sumner.

I have said for many years that without Hooky there can't be New Order, so without three of them that trebles it down.

This then is the age old question of how few orginal members does there have to be to still be honestly called by the act's name?

The Who tour with just Daltry and Townsend playing now that Entwhistle and Moon have passed away. Is that really The Who?

The Stranglers now tour with just Jean-Jacques Burnel as the sole original member, is that really The Stranglers now, even if Baz Warne has been singler longer than Hugh Cornwell ever was?

A few years back, I had tckets to see Dr. Feelgood in concert, thinking that Wilko Johnson was still in the band. But he had left again years before. In fact no original members of the band are in the current touring version under that name. So is that really Dr. Feelgood? No matter how long some have been in the band, its just a tribute act, but under the name of the band they are aping.

Both Morris and Gilbert are in their late 60s, and suffering from ill health. Not everyone can be Mick Jagger or Paul McCartney, performing into their 80s. In Jagger's case, leaping around stage like a man half his age. We all get old, but when its over shouldn't it be over?

Barney could call Hooky to rejoin the band, I suppose.

Tuesday 30th June 2026

I woke up tired.

A late night watching the second game, bailing before extra time started, and then awake at ten past five so I could get ready for the gym, nice and early.

I got dressed, made and drank coffee, and then was off to Whitfield, but I had to be back sharpish as the car was back in the garage to have the air-con compressor replaced and then re-gassed.

In the end, it was too humid to do the full forty minutes, I did thirty. But told myself I will do thirty five next time.

I tell myself.

I get back home at ten to seven, and Jools is off into town to drop the car off then do her class, followed by knit and natter, before waiting until the car was done.

She should be home at about two.

I laze around for an hour. I read my old blog posts for the day over the previous decade, and marvel at how life has changed, and how stress-free life is now we have hung up our hot keyboards.

I have a shave and shower, and feel human again. Outside its cloudy so sitting on the patio to read is comfortable, and Scully would happily lay beside me.

The morning passes.

The lawnmeadow is now almost free of flowers. I have collected some Yellow rattle seeds, and I could mow it, but there might still be flowers yet to emerge, so will leave it until we get back from our road trip in the middle of August.

I have oatcakes with marmalade for lunch, along with a huge fresh brew, and eat sitting on the patio while Mulder looked on hungrily.

Cats don't like marmalade, I tell him.

Jools gets home at half two, so despite not being hungry, I cook the main meal of the day: defrosted chilli and rice, which is about ready in half an hour.

With it I had a beer, which might have been the mistake.

Once the sun came out, I checked the garden and find just two gooseberries on our plants, one very small. So, we can have a small crumble or leave the two fruit to the thrushes.

I sat down to watch the early game: Ivory Coast v Norway. But I couldn't keep my eyes open in the first half, so missed at least half of it. I saw all of the second, including the winner from Haarland, where he miskicked the ball and it rolled in over the line, just out of the reach of the keeper.

At eight, I check Scully, feed her and lock the doors. And to bed for at least eight hours sleep.

I fell straight to sleep.

Night night, Campers!