From silence and drams and back to white noise

I'm back in London, with phone signal and internet and the multi-layered sounds of millions of people going about their business. If Christmas was wholly rambunctious then New Year found a way of pocketing it; producing it in the evenings and in the days providing something entirely new to contend with: complete silence.

We were on Mull, a place whose magic I'd been told about but never been able to quite imagine. A big, cosy houseful of people - by night we'd carouse to our hearts' content and by day would come the treat of roaming. Hardly anyone lives there - maybe 3000 people, some impressive looking rams, soppy Highland cattle, wild red deer and more Golden eagles than anywhere else in the world. From crunchy, frozen tundra to flattened out, yellowed fern; over volcanic rocks, mussel-bound beaches, gloopy marshes and heather-piled hills, each walk was different. But whenever I stopped and just listened I got a great pounding in my soul at the great, expansive sound of absolutely nothing.

New Year's resolutions: Take Choc Star to new heights, dance, be bolder and more adventurous. And seek out situations that make me feel as if I were on Mull - if it means returning; I'm in.

The next place you can find the van will be at the Valentine's Slow Food Festival on the Southbank, Friday 13th (!) - Sunday 15th February. Should be a hearty affair!