Between this Man Feelings entry and the last, I've turned 40. Happy birthday, me! I was going to use this edition to reflect on what I've learned over forty years on Earth but I'm writing this after a long week of work, parenting and "adulting" and the only insight I currently have to share is "don't do the weekly grocery shop with both kids at 6pm on a Friday before anyone's eaten anything". Words to live by, I'm sure.

On the same day as my birthday, 8 September, I also released an EP of my five newest songs. I'd been hoping to get an entire album finished by now but I think the chaos of selling, buying and moving house in the first half of this year really took away my capacity to squeeze any more out of my free time.

I called the EP (and the lead song on it) "Shed Your Skin". It's partly a little nod to my old garden shed music studio, which I left behind last month when we moved house. It's where all of these songs were written and recorded (with the notable exception of two guitar solos which I recorded in the home office of my new house) and I wanted to commemorate it somehow.

We moved house about three weeks ago (hence the delay in this newsletter) and it's caused me some pondering.

Initially it was things like "why didn't the previous owners fit a lock on the bathroom door?". Or perhaps stuff like "what kind of things should we plant to survive future heatwaves?". But this week, it's mainly been about toilets.

I've lived in fifteen houses since birth; ten of them my own choice. Each one—as far as I remember—had a toilet. But I never got to choose it.

We spend a lot of time with our toilets: often they bookend our days, as bowel movements beget mindshifts. As I approach my 40th birthday, I've been reflecting on my "adulting milestones": I've plumbed in a dishwasher; delivered a baby; bought (and sold) a house. But I've never so much as flicked through the porcelain section of the DIY catalogue.

I'm writing this from Reus "Barcelona" airport (Barcelona gets air quotes in the same way that "London" Luton does) after a week in Tarragona (see!) for a work trip. The European heatwave is still in full effect and I've never experienced higher temperatures or humidity than this week. Not the best setup for long, intense days meeting my all-remote colleagues in person for the first time, but when life gives you overly-hot lemons, you... make warm sangria?

I haven't seen my kids or partner for most of a week and I'm very excited to be home and to see them, although they'll all be asleep by the time I finish writing this, board my flight, and figure out the quickest way home from the airport on a Friday night.

A quick family holiday follows next week, and then we move house in the first week of August. Our first move in over eight years, and our first with kids. It's a huge moment and likely represents the absolute peak of my spreadsheet-planning organisation goals. I'll almost be sad to no longer have a "project".

It'll be hard bidding goodbye to our home. My daughter was born in the house, for one thing. We've transformed it from a generic-looking show home into something with a little personality, and the various improvements, enhancements and quirks we've given it will (hopefully) be valued by the new owners. The new house is objectively better in almost every aspect, minus (of course) the presence of a garden shed fully outfitted as a music studio. I'm going to miss that place.

Apparently “AI dating” is on the rise, at least, if you believe the podcasts and breathless lifestyle journalism. I don’t buy it: does anyone who ends up in an unhealthy dynamic with ChatGPT really believe the bot is their girlfriend? But perhaps all romance is built on delusion at some level… though I imagine it’s typically in favour of an actual human being.

I’m getting this second-hand via my partner who’s been listening to a relationship podcast which interviews people with “AI girlfriends”. Apparently some of the blokes are claiming that they’re using the bot as training for an actual, real-life partner. If this turns out to be true, then it’s way more worrying.

I use LLMs for work and have to constantly remind myself that they aim to please; they tell you what you want to hear; they confidently assert untruths and they will never challenge you unless you specifically prompt them to do so. Who wants a partner like that?

Well: a man who doesn’t want a relationship with a human being. A man who hates women. A man who does not expect to ever have to change their behaviour in response to feedback from others.

What a flake. I restarted this newsletter after a year-long gap, wrote four issues, then disappeared for a month. My loyal fan (not a typo; thanks T) was outraged. I'm sorry!

I alluded to this last month, and now I can be clearer: my employer announced a large restructure and layoffs in mid-May, and I spent the rest of the month uncertain if my role would be affected. Having already danced this particular tango just 18 months ago, I was keen to avoid it again.

I found out a couple of weeks ago that my role is safe, but plenty of my talented colleagues didn't have the same luck, and dealing with the fallout and anxiety has been tough. We're in the process of buying a new house and the risk that the entire thing could collapse (not the house, I hope) was a real source of stress and discomfort for me.

We're doing well now and work is even starting to feel normal again, but May wasn't much fun. But I have high hopes for the rest of the year: a new home, a new phase in our lives, and I might even buy a new vacuum cleaner. Expect a dedicated newsletter about my hopes and dreams for the Henry model I'll inevitably buy.