On the morning of the hearing, I drove into Preston under low cloud. The city was there, but dulled. Edges softened. Buildings half-hidden. It felt like looking at something through frosted glass. It matched how I’d been feeling for a long time.
For over a year, something had been sitting in the background of my life. Heavy. Unfinished. Not dramatic every day, but always there. A low hum. didn’t want to be in a courtroom. I wanted to be writing songs. Building things. Looking forward. But some things don’t dissolve just because you’d rather not deal with them.
The case was about the technical failure at my album launch concert. The lost audio. A night that mattered deeply to me, gone in a way that couldn’t be undone. I didn’t pursue it out of spite. I didn’t wake up wanting a fight. I just couldn’t pretend it was nothing.
The court ruled in my favour.
It doesn’t bring the recording back. It doesn’t restore the version of that night I wish still existed. But something did shift. As the day went on, the cloud started to thin. The light changed. The city came back into focus bit by bit. I felt it inside too.
I hadn’t realised how much energy I’d been spending braced against that experience. Replaying it. Carrying it. Letting it colour everything that came after. Grief can do that. So can injustice. So can anything that never got a full stop.
The decision didn’t fix the past. It loosened its grip. Something small but unexpected happened later.
I put Wonderland on. For months, listening to it had felt tangled up with that night. The loss. The frustration. The what-ifs. This time, it sounded like the album again. Not the event. Not the failure. Just the music. The work. The thing I made.
I didn’t feel the same ache in my chest. That surprised me more than the ruling did.
Fighting for your work isn’t glamorous. It’s paperwork and waiting and awkward conversations. It’s doing something you’d rather not do because walking away would cost more.
I never wanted this chapter. But I’m glad I didn’t look away from it.
The fog isn’t gone forever. I don’t think life works like that. But right now, the air feels clearer. My body feels less braced.
That’s enough. There’s more to make.