THE GROOVE - PART 1

Although the word "groove" to some might relate to the slang colloquialism "groovy" conjuring images of Austin Powers and his frilly shirts and velvet suits, in our family it evokes a far deeper meaning.

The Groove is a state of mind, a portal of time which is not constrained by the conventional seconds, minutes and hours that typically bind mortal lives like slaves.

It was first introduced to me as a concept by my father who would frequently exclaim the immortal phrase : "time for a groove?". I can distinctly remember visits to London in his off-white Citroen 2cv with my brother Reuben as we'd make a prison break from school for a few days in exchange for breakfast cafes, toy shops and walks around the Streatham Common Rookery.

I can also vividly recall preparing for these excursions to the city by loading up on a few bags of confectionaries from, 'Mrs Barsbys' sweetshop in Stroud where the shopkeeper would usually be out back nursing a goiter and watching a black and white TV before the shop's silver doorbell would jangle loudly announcing our arrival. All stocked up on Sherbert Lemons and Flying Saucers, we'd travel through the night to get to our groove destination aka Nimrod Road, Streatham where my grandparents lived and where we would then luxuriate in days of cultured relaxation under the tutelage of our professional layabout father.

The night journey to London was always extra special, knowing the more miles put behind us, the less chance of school being a reality for the week ahead would now be. It was also especially exciting to see the famous neon Lucozade sign just off Brentford's golden mile heralding our arrival to London as its sparkling lights mimicked the orange elixir being poured into a glass.

Having arrived at my grandparents' place, myself and my brother would sleep on a fold out mattress just in front of an antique looking stereo system with mahogany cabinet. We'd fall asleep as the old fashioned radio tuner panel above our heads cast a warm golden light across the darkened room.

I can remember waking up the next morning listening to LBC and feeling we were in a new dimension.

Perhaps The Groove is just as the veteran knight Gurnemanz says to the young Parsifal upon entering the temple of the grail, "where time become space".

A novice intiated into the philosophy and strict practice of The Groove may begin with a fairly casual itinerary. This would typically involve a light breakfast in a cafe - coffee, croissants with morning papers and some creative chit chat etc before getting on with the rest of the day's less idle pursuits.

An intermediate level groove would involve a slightly more rigorous roster of layabout activities, including a visit to a bookshop or two, a music store, possibly as well as a bit of lunch in a breakfast cafe or the National Theatre foyer, capped by a coffee in yet another cafe before finally making your way home, sated by your finds.

I should state that the intermediate groove can't be fully enjoyed unless all participants involved have acquired equally beneficial cultural artefacts (books, toys, music) to pore over whilst enjoying some food and drink. For me, in my early years, it would have been a copy of The Beano washed down with egg and chips and a milkshake. In later years more likely it would have been some Faber and Faber film book interview series with Kieslowski, Coppola or Scorcese accompanied by a burger and fries with a coke.

The PhD level groove is more of an ongoing festival of joy which would invariably involve a sustained and intensive hang out period such as our London pilgrimages often demonstrated. This would include, in addition to cafes, bookshops and toy and music stores, the added bonus of concerts, art exhibitions and museums.

I can remember one day being told by my father that I wouldn't be going to school, only to find myself a few hours later scouring guitar shops in Denmark Street and having lunch in our favourite place to eat back then, The Stockpot, a family run restaurant franchise which was famous for being the most affordable place in the city to eat, providing what were, essentially, above average school dinners. The apple crumble and custard was especially memorable.

Hopping in and out of black cabs and double decker buses in-between each stage of The Groove became as much a part of the adventure as when we'd arrived at our destinations, like we were in our very own version of 'A Hard Day's Night'.

One time we'd ended up in Hammersmith where I had just bought a paperback copy of The Fountainhead from a bookstore in Charing Cross whilst my Father was reading an esoteric book on Tibetan Buddhism.

Casually, after we'd just finished our tea, he slid some concert tickets across the table to me and asked, "You ready for the next part of the groove?"

It turned out we were going to see Bob Dylan that night on his 1990 "Oh Mercy" tour. At the age of 12, watching any concert on a school night always seemed like the coolest way to spend your evenings far away from the prospect of homework or school the following day.

This is yet another important detail about The Groove: the element of surprise that adds an additional improvisational component to the ritual. Nothing is off the table once the routine staples have been honoured.

In the end perhaps the most magical part of the many grooves in london was the return drive home as the closer we got to Stroud, 'Sailing By' by Ronald Binge would play on Radio 4 cementing its status as our welcome home soundtrack anthem to the Shire.

Now fully initiated The Groove was to take on many future permutations for myself, my friends and my dad.

A lifetime obsession had only just begun.