The Great Minidisc Rabbit Hole: Pricing a 90s Obsession

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My brain is currently acting like a corrupted hard drive, constantly threatening to crash. When the internal system fails and the dizziness kicks in, the only logical coping mechanism is to hyper-fixate on obsolete 1990s audio equipment. Welcome to the great world of Minidisc, an absolute rabbit hole.

I want the tactile satisfaction of a physical format again. I want the mechanical clunk of a disc locking into place. And most importantly, I want to record my own music like it’s 1998, rather than letting an algorithm spoon-feed me. So, I took to eBay to figure out exactly how much this nostalgia trip is going to cost me, all in the pursuit of Minidisc magic.

The Hardware: The Sony Recorders

If you are going to do this, you need a machine that actually records. No basic playback-only nonsense. We are looking at the vintage Sony MZ-R series—specifically something like the MZ-R70 or MZ-R410 which were among the iconic Minidisc recorders of the era.

These things are built like miniature silver tanks. The going rate on eBay for a fully tested, working recorder right now is anywhere between £50 to £100, depending entirely on whether the seller thinks they are sitting on the Crown Jewels.

The Ammunition: Blank Discs

You can’t record without the media. The absolute beauty of Minidiscs was the little plastic caddies they lived in—basically indestructible floppy disks for audio, which is why Minidisc still has so many fans today.

Buying sealed, brand-new blanks will cost around £15 to £30 for a 5-pack. Alternatively, if you are willing to buy a bundle of used discs and overwrite whatever terrible late-90s trance compilations the previous owner recorded, you can grab a job-lot of 20 for about £35 and experience that Minidisc nostalgia in full.

The Holy Grail: Blur on Minidisc

Here is where the financial reality hits you like a wet fish. I wanted to see what it would cost to just buy an original, pre-recorded album—specifically, Blur’s music on the elusive Minidisc format.

Whether it’s the self-titled album, 13, or The Best Of, buying Britpop on Minidisc in 2026 is aggressively expensive. Because the pre-recorded format is so incredibly rare, original Blur Minidiscs are going for £70 to £150 a pop. At that price, Damon Albarn himself had better come over to Bolton and press play for me.

The Source Engine: The CD Player

To get that crisp, perfect digital recording onto the Minidisc, you need a source engine. An old portable CD player with an ‘Optical Out’ port is the absolute necessity here, allowing a direct, lossless digital-to-digital transfer via an optical cable—just what a Minidisc collector needs for high fidelity.

A reliable vintage Sony Discman with an optical out will set you back about £40 to £60.

The Verdict

So, what is the total damage for this mid-week hyper-fixation? Investing in Minidisc nostalgia isn’t cheap, but it sure is satisfying.

  • Sony MZ-R Recorder: ~£75
  • Job-lot of Blanks: ~£35
  • CD Player (Optical Out): ~£50
  • Original Blur Album: ~£100 (if I completely lose my mind)

Total Setup: Roughly £160 to build the recording rig and blanks to make my own, or £260 if I succumb to the Britpop holy grail. In either case, the charm of classic Minidisc audio can’t be denied.

The conclusion? I am absolutely hunting down a silver Sony MZ-R recorder. The prices aren’t exactly cheap, but buying a piece of heavy, mechanical nostalgia that stops me staring blankly at a screen is probably cheaper than therapy. Let the bidding wars begin, and long live Minidisc!

I’m hoping to have enough saved up by the new year but I have a sneaking suspicion that the gas and electric people will have other ideas. Meanwhile, my Minidisc dreams will have to wait.

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QotD Random Photos

Andy Young4 Comments

Share a few recent shots from your camera roll, no context needed.

For today’s QotD I present to you a random selection of photos with no context from my phone. They are a random selection but all have a story behind them. Mostly rubbish stories BUT I have omitted anything dodgy looking. Not that my phone is full of dodge but mostly memes that I have saved up I’ll try and update the gallery page with them instead. By the way, if you enjoy these updates or find the qotd section fun, stay tuned for more updates.

Today has been an odd day. I woke up in a bad mood, feeling rough and hungover from the diazepam that I had to take yesterday. So naturally I took more today to reset my mood but no. It just made me very tired. And lazy. And so I have sat watching random paranormal stuff on youtube. That is a bad habit. In my defense they are amusing. Oh. Halloween. I watched texas chainsaw massacre, the first one from the 70’s. So I actually had to mute it because OMG the lead character would not stop screaming every second. I get it. A man running after you with a chainsaw might cause you to scream but please have so tact and decency and die without screaming so much. Just accept your fate you know… And yes, despite all this, I still plan to write a new qotd soon—stay tuned!

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The Friday Drop: Asda Orders and System Failures

Andy Young3 Comments

If you’ve been following the blog this week, you’ll know my body has been treating me like an absolute punchbag. Between all of that, I also had to deal with my Asda Orders. From a numb left arm to a week-long stomach rebellion that required 45 minutes of sheer effort to defeat, and chronic dizziness just for good measure, reaching Friday feels less like a victory and more like crawling over the finish line out of spite. In fact, Asda Orders added to my list of weekly challenges.

But Friday means one very important thing in this house: the Asda click-and-collect. After rationing my comfort foods like it’s wartime, I have officially survived the Great Cheese Drought. Restocking the fridge is borderline spiritual. Absolute full credit goes to my shopping carer, who comes in, grabs the bags, collects the order, and actually puts it all away for me. With the trapped nerves in my lower back, standing up long enough to unpack a weekly shop is a physical impossibility right now. For that reason, they are an absolute legend. Importantly, dealing with orders from Asda every week means life is noticeably easier for me.

asda
asda

The real plot twist this week, though, is my total lack of control over my own consciousness. My body has decided it is entirely in charge of the power button. Last night, I dragged myself into the bedroom and lay down just to plug my phone in. The next thing I knew, it was 7:00 AM still sat up. The ‘big light’ was blindingly blazing all night, my phone was entirely dead, and I hadn’t even taken any diazepam. My brain just hit control-alt-delete and walked off. Oh, and let’s not forget the chaos of Asda deliveries and orders that seem to add their own layer to the week. And it has continued glitching out and shutting me down all day today.

On top of the involuntary shutdowns, my dreams have suddenly come back with a vengeance. Whatever hard reset my brain is doing right now, the nocturnal cinema is fully operational again. The jury is still out on whether this is a fun feature or a terrifying bug. For now, I’m just trapped on the ride. Moreover, Asda Orders always come with their own surprises and twists. Sometimes they match the chaos of my week.

Because my body is currently behaving like faulty Windows 95 hardware, I had to make the miserable call to cancel my son coming over this weekend. The guilt is heavy, and I feel like absolute shit about it. However, it is the sensible choice. He is 14, and he shouldn’t have to spend his weekend wondering if his dad is going to abruptly force-quit mid-sentence.

So, the agenda is strictly low-stakes isolation: obliterating an air-fryer baked potato loaded with butter, beans, an offensive amount of cheese, and some aggressively overpriced chilli oil, all while watching Addams Family Values. Of course, orders from Asda are what keep my pantry filled. They provide the essentials for these comfort meals.

Here is to surviving the week, worshipping the carer, and hoping I actually manage to turn the lights off before I pass out tonight.

Photo Talk Thursday: 16th-Century Home Farm Memories

Andy Young7 Comments

After Tuesday’s trip down memory lane—thinking about the dining room, those cheese selections, and my mum—I ended up diving deep into the digital archives. Today’s photos are pulled from an album simply called “Home Farm.” Reflecting on these Home Farm memories, I realise how much they shape my perspective today.

If I could go back and live there again, I would do it in a heartbeat. A lot of my dreams are still spent there, usually riding around on the single-track roads before you hit the B-road into town. It was a completely unique upbringing, and looking back, a time of absolute innocence. These are the kinds of Home Farm memories that stay with you for life.

The 16th-Century House and The Great Roof Chaos of ’97

The farm was built in the 16th century, though we suspect it could be even older. Up until 1997, it still had a tar roof. I vividly remember the absolute mess of getting it replaced with slate. I actually helped out by punching the holes in the slate tiles so the roofers could get the job done faster.

For a couple of weeks during the chaos, we all essentially lived in the dining room and the downstairs gun room. I was also on crawling duty, dragging cables under the floors to finally put the electrics in.

Decantae Mineral Water and The Sausage Roll Commute

The farm sat on around 70 acres of land and housed a water production factory that pulled fresh water straight from the hills. You might have heard of it: Decantae Mineral Water. My mum and dad ran the place from 1990 until 2014.

During the school holidays, my brother and I would pack bottles of water just to earn some money to live on. It was hard, painfully repetitive work. My only reprieve was break time. I could walk less than a minute from the factory floor back to the house, sit in front of the TV, and grab a snack. My snack of choice? A microwave-heated sausage roll so I could peel the pastry off. Yes, I am odd.

Quad Bikes, Zero Light Pollution, and 4 AM Walks

The land was beautifully spread out. We had a quad bike to get out and about across the fields and up into the hills. I used to spend hours just sitting at the highest point. You could see for miles, and the only sound was a passing sheep or cow. No traffic, no smog, and certainly no close neighbours. There is something special about these Home Farm memories that brings the past vividly to life.

My mum used to pick my friends up so they could stay over for 24-hour gaming sessions, messing about on the quad bike, or taking the factory forklift trucks for a spin. I actually found some old photos of my bedroom from back then—books, figures, photos. Come to think of it, nothing has really changed.

The hills and the valley were incredible at night. Because there was zero light pollution, it was pitch black. If I couldn’t sleep, I would regularly go for walks up the hills at 4 AM.

Freezing Farm Winters and the Magic of a Thermostat

Winter on the farm was always enjoyable—until the power went out. Which happened a lot.

It was always freezing in winter. We had an old Rayburn stove that we constantly fed with wood and coal just to keep the house semi-warm. Long after I moved out, my parents finally got a new heating oil system installed, though I still thought it was freezing. I will never forget moving into my first house in the “real world” and discovering a thermostat. I was absolutely blown away.

That “real world” move was a shock in other ways, too. On the farm, keys to the cars were just left in the ignition. The factory, the office, and the house were never locked up. It took some serious adjustment after moving out to realise that thieves actually existed.

Family Quirks and The End of an Era

We had animals, a vegetable plot, and plenty of character. At one point, my brother even converted an old stone shed into a grow room for a few years. I will leave what he was growing to your imagination. My mum, being Dutch, was quite liberal with things like that and knew exactly what was going on. My dad, being Scottish and prone to shouting a lot, did not. If he had known, he would have burned the shed down.

Decantae was eventually bought out after we left. My mum and dad moved to another house near the sea. In 2014, my mum retired, and just three or four weeks later, she tragically passed away from lung cancer. My dad managed four years without her, but he lost the will to live and passed in 2018.

It was the end of a very specific era, but I will always have these Home Farm memories. Indeed, Home Farm memories will forever remain precious and close to my heart.

The Weekend Report (On a Tuesday)

Andy Young5 Comments
Weekend report -

We are officially doing the Weekend Report on a Tuesday. The timeline is flexible.

Things kicked off with a proper storm. The wind was howling, the rain was lashing against the windows, and pretty much every remaining leaf has been stripped from the trees. I was holding out hope for a power cut or a full thunderstorm, but you can’t have everything. It was the perfect background noise for summarizing my week in this informal report over the weekend.

I’ve been dealing with the side effects of a seizure, meaning my left arm currently has absolutely zero power. The electric tin opener has officially become the MVP of the kitchen. Because of the fallout from it, Ben couldn’t come over, but my carers stepped in with four daily visits to keep things running. They’ve been brilliant, and in this latest report for the weekend I can’t overstate how grateful I am for their help.

Movies & the sofa

With a lot of sofa time required, I leaned heavily into background noise to keep the brain quiet. I cycled through Amityville, a couple of Halloween movies, and the first Wishmaster. I tried to read some classic Jules Verne, but my thoughts were too loud, so I had to switch to adding a podcast to finally distract myself. A batch of new books arrived on Sunday, which I probably should have reached for instead. As you can see, my summary of the weekend report often involves all sorts of entertainment and distractions.

Blobette and Mojo, meanwhile, had an excellent weekend. I gave them a mix of greens covered in water, which they happily ate before deciding it was actually a bath. They spent ages unceremoniously sitting in a puddle, rolling about while the other patiently waited their turn. On weekends, their antics are always worthy of a mention in my little report.

Today is also a big day: Suzi is 17. The trains from Congleton are currently a mess because of damaged overhead lines, so I made sure to post her presents ahead of time so she’d have something to open today. Hopefully, she can make it round here for a proper visit once the transport is sorted. Updates like these add a little spirit to my personal Weekend Report every week.

Cheese & wine

In other news, I am attempting to lose a bit of weight, which means cutting down on cheese and pivoting to low-fat options where possible. Tragically, I have completely run out of cheese again. I don’t think I can ever give it up entirely; it is practically my heritage. It takes me right back to being 12 or 13 at the farm. After my mum finished work, we’d sit in the dining room. She would have a big glass of red wine, a selection of little cuts of cheese, and potato triangle crisps, and she would share them with me. It was only ever a thirty-minute window, but I really enjoyed that time. By the way, these memories are always a highlight of any report I write for the weekend.

Weekend report -
Weekend report – 15 year old photo of my late mum at the farm with ben and her beloved wine.

For now, I am back on the sofa, waiting for my stomach to settle from the anxiety. My physical and mental health are currently locked in a fierce competition to see which can be the most spectacularly uncooperative. It is a decidedly rough patch right now, but much like a stubborn piece of tech, I just need a firm smack on the side. I’ll bounce back. I always do. To sum up, this week’s edition of the report, Weekend style, has been a blend of challenges, comfort, and nostalgia.

Beautiful poem

Andy YoungLeave a comment
Abstract flowing purple, blue, and gold ribbons on a dark starry background
Brittle, But Still Here

This beautiful poem really resonates so I’m sharing it on here so I don’t lose it. I know poetry isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but once in a while you come across a truly beautiful poem that makes you feel something. For anyone searching for a beautiful poem that inspires emotion, this is one of them for me.

I’ve tried my hand at poems a few times but they are never really any good. I keep practising in my notebook from time to time but yeah I’ll leave it to the experts. I’m always impressed when the come up on my feed. I wish I could link all of them but then you would all be spammed to death by them. Anyways. The poem hit hard.

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The MiniDisc Quest: Blur, Broken Toilets, and the Euro Disney Survival Trip

Andy Young3 Comments

Welcome to the next chapter of the MiniDisc nostalgia quest. Today, we are traveling back to the ultimate teenage endurance test. It was a 17-hour coach trip to Euro Disney at the age of 16.

If you’ve never been trapped on a coach heading to France for 17 hours with a broken toilet, you haven’t truly lived. To survive, you needed a serious soundtrack. My weapon of choice was a chunky, silver Sony MiniDisc recorder. It was a bit clunky. However, it had that tiny LCD screen that made you feel like you were holding the absolute pinnacle of future technology.

But here is the most important detail, and if you were a teenager in the 90s, you’ll understand the weight of this flex: I wasn’t listening to a home-recorded mix. What made it special was that it was an official recording released on MiniDisc. I bought it straight from the shop.

The Choice of MiniDisc

The album? Blur by Blur.

I spent that entire grueling journey with “Beetlebum”, “On Your Own”, and “Song 2” on heavy rotation, drowning out the misery of the coach. Of course, bringing along my MiniDisc player meant I could drown out the sounds of travel. It helped me focus on the music. And there was plenty of misery to drown out. Aside from the toilet situation, the journey across the channel was a rollercoaster of extreme teenage edginess. In addition, it was also filled with crushing disappointment.

First, there was the sheer thrill of successfully smuggling a flick knife across the border—because when you’re 16, that feels like a massive tactical victory. But that adrenaline was immediately wiped out by the Channel Tunnel. Like an idiot, I spent the buildup genuinely believing we were going to drive through a glass tube under the sea. I fully expected to be looking out the coach window at fish and sharks. However, the realization that it was just a massive, pitch-black concrete tube is a betrayal I’m still not entirely over. Honestly, my only comfort was clutching that MiniDisc and zoning out until we got to daylight.

And to conclude…

I could also tell you about the fake IDs we made to secure alcohol once we actually got to France… but we’ll save that particular criminal enterprise for another day.

For now, I just want to appreciate that silver Sony and that official Blur album for getting me through the darkest, fish-less tunnel in Europe. That old MiniDisc player really made those hours bearable.

Over to you: Please tell me I wasn’t the only one who thought the Channel Tunnel was going to be an aquarium. Let me know in the comments! Did you ever take a journey with only a MiniDisc for company?

Update: New Books!

Andy YoungLeave a comment

Thank you everyone for your book suggestions to read to the birds. They all came today. Right now I’m reading Moby Dick to them right now, so as soon as we get through that we will move onto these. I just wanted to update you all to let you know I listened!

Thank you.

Tad windy outside here in Manchester although its died down now. No trees came down but the leafs! Everywhere! looks nice, very seasonesque.

Have an amazing rest of your weekend.

Question of the Day: The Zero-Judgment Comfort Meal

Andy Young11 Comments
close up photo of sliced potato

We’ve officially crawled to the finish line of the week. The brain cells are depleted, standards have plummeted, and it is time to lean heavily into the only thing that matters: low-effort comfort food. When you’re looking for the ultimate Comfort Meal, simplicity and satisfaction are key.

I’m talking about the hyper-specific, zero-judgment meals that instantly fix a bad mood. Sometimes, for me, that’s just a massive plate of chips drowning in satay sauce. These are the moments when only a meal truly meant for comfort will do. Is it haute cuisine? No. Will I defend it with my life? Absolutely.

But my absolute top-tier comfort meal is an air-fryer jacket potato. You have to prep the skin properly—rubbed with salt and garlic—so it crisps up right. Then, I load it with baked beans, enough jalapeños to cause regret, and a drizzle of chili oil for good measure. Without a doubt, for me this potato concoction ticks every comfort meal box.

And the best part? Friday means the Asda delivery arrives, which means the tragic cheese drought of earlier this week is officially over. That means the ultimate comfort meal topping, cheddar, is back and I plan to bury that potato under a mountain of cheese so large the beans won’t even see daylight.

Over to you: What is your ultimate, no-judgment comfort food? The hyper-specific, the slightly chaotic, the outright weird—I want to hear it. Tell me about your own version of a comfort meal that brings you happiness.

The Friday Drop: Asda Orders and System Failures

Photo Talk Thursday: The 90s Farm Legends (Tabby & DJ)

Andy Young5 Comments

Welcome to the very first Photo Talk Thursday, where I dig into the archives of my Google Photos to unearth real memories, questionable decisions, and the companion animals who ruled my life before the digital camera was even a thing. Indeed, Photo Talk Thursday is all about showcasing these treasured moments and memories.

Today, we go back to the 1990s on the farm with the original two family legends. Both lived to the grand old age of 17, and both possessed zero respect for rules, as many stories from Thursday’s Photo Talk series reveal.

1. Tabby: The Farm Queen (and Budgie Serial Killer)

Tabby was our cat from Peterborough, and our first real family pet. Looking back, memories like these stand out for every Photo Talk Thursday post.

She had thousands of fields to roam across the farm, living the ultimate feline dream. She’d spend all day patrolling her territory, but no matter how far she wandered, she always trekked back every single night to sleep on the end of my bed.

She was an absolute ruler, though she did leave my parents with a cold-blooded crime scene to clean up when she managed to eliminate the neighbour’s budgies. (Given that I am currently held hostage in my own flat by two feathered overlords named Blobette and Mojo, I appreciate the historical irony).

Tabby died peacefully of natural causes out in the garden after 17 glorious years. Tabby was awesome, just like many tales told on Photo Thursday Talk adventures.

2. DJ: The Beach-Eating, Farm-Hopping Sheepdog

DJ was our sheepdog—a big, short-haired, black-and-white force of nature. We got him as a puppy from the folks who owned the farm before my parents. You’ll see stories like this one often on Thursday Photo Talk features.

DJ had two primary hobbies in life:

  1. Visiting his mates: We’d regularly lose track of him, only to find him a mile down the road at the neighbouring farm, sitting inside the pen hanging out with their farm dogs like he was popping to the pub.
  2. Eating the beach: When we took him to Colwyn bay beach, he would merrily consume mass quantities of sand and jellyfish. The next morning, we’d walk downstairs to find half the Welsh coastline deposited across the kitchen floor.

He was a good, loyal dog who lived for farm freedom. I managed to find this photo from late 2004 of me giving him water on the farm—a great memory of a truly legendary dog. In summary, these kinds of stories are at the heart of every Photo Talk Thursday post I share.

Question for the Comments:

Did you grow up with a farm pet or a childhood companion who had an absolutely absurd habit? Drop their name and their weirdest trick in the comments to join the Photo Talk Thursday conversation!