When Petrol Was The Future

Once upon a time petrol pumps were found on high streets or main streets. A fledgling roadside amenity. Perched on the pavements like drinking fountains, easily accessible for the odd vehicle that might pull up for a refill. The local iron monger or blacksmith might own the set up and sell fuel in between other more lucrative bits of business. Ordinary people didn't really own cars or much else back then either. It was the age of the famous moustache too. I'm sure that there are photos or records of black limos with small boys running alongside them looking for a hidden horse. A world long gone. One with no real health, safety or fire prevention regulations ... we don't want that again.

Every so often you'll see dead electrical switches like this on odd walls, mostly in rural locations, the rusty pumps and storage systems long gone. Petrol and diesel were not the dirty words they are today. We know better now but we don't really because it's all someone else's fault and we're as much the victims and part of the cash/taxation fodder as the third world crude oil workers who's products are cleaned up and sold on to us. Sad to say, interesting but ultimately ugly and over weight EVs shipped over from China don't really do it either. You know they'll be unsupported tech junk in seven years. We just might need a better solution.

Lost in Kinloch Rannoch

We took a wee break off and into the bright Perthshire amber of autumn's passing. The four seasons in a single day magic still happens. Rain, sleet, hail, snow and sunshine passing before us in a single afternoon. Nearby Schiehallion getting a white top as did the further away peaks of Glencoe. Hotel breakfasts, big glasses of wine, comfy beds and all manner of people determined to run marathon distances. The long and winding roads to there and back again made good driving, all reasonably well maintained as if to prove that an independent Perthshire might be a viable thing - even if it's run by a small Conservative majority in the council (?).

And on the subject of independence, the untimely death of AS surprised us on Saturday night. History will not be kind to him, the media, the current SNP lineup and the establishment's own mechanical grindings will see to that. What ever narrow side of things you inhabit never forget the long screwdriver of colonialism's inbred injustice and the power of privilege will always have their sway in this country (other countries are also available for this). Thirty nine years spent in the thick of it, via the military, taught me that, but thankfully I remained a successful misfit and am still able to enjoy this land for what it is (whatever that might be). If I hadn't taken the Queen's shiny Shilling I'd write a book about it all.

 

Nice Artwork

The band "Five Card Draw" has two gigs in the St Andrews area this weekend. One of my grandsons is part of the line up. He's on drums for these dates as far as I know. I like the arty poster for the gig on the 12th. Nice work whoever put it together. I understand that their set will mostly consist of a mixture of genres but mainly jazz/funk, whatever that is these days. Hope it goes well for them.

Evaporation

After the October rains, out comes the sun and despite it's feeble seasonal warmth the steamy late morning evaporation begins. As chunks of the fallen rain return heavenwards, presumably to fall again elsewhere. Almost poetic isn't it? Pearly dew drops start glinting and become exaggerated and visible on the nasturtiums and you become aware that there's a few brief moments of a slow golden peace taking place. Even some of the tougher bees have returned (not pictured as they're the very busy bees, zig-zaging and camera shy) to enjoy the bright morning rays. 

Heat Seeking Snickers

If you leave your Snickers on top of a 100w amp head during a gig* this is what it looks like afterwards. Happily I can report that though melted and fairly distorted by the heat, the Snickers still tasted fine - the next day.

*Leith Dockers, 5th Oct. Unplanned and somewhat unrehearsed power trio line up that could have gone badly wrong but thankfully went rather well. Nice and loud too.

Complex Simplicity Part Two

Even as I slept the complex simplicity concept continued to morph and evolve by generating hundreds of seemingly simple images that still retained their potential for complex and varied overtones. Their meaning so far remains unclear. Some kind of digital cry for help perhaps? I captured a few (as above) but decided to release the rest into the wild so that their transformative breeding plan can continue without the obvious hindrance and contamination of any further human input. My work is done.

Emergency Leith Docker's Slot

We're back, perhaps slightly blurry around the edges but that's to be expected. Another evening of live, common and curious covers that you can dance to, sing along to, drink relatively cheaply to and if you want just talk quietly amongst yourselves to. Whatever you do you'll be captivated as we do our very best to entertain you on October 5th. 8pm at the famous Leith Docker's Club, somewhere in downtown/uptown Edinburgh. 

Complex Simplicity

Complex simplicity: Just when you think that AI artwork isn't really giving you anything new or not obvious, along comes something, some images, that are quite unexpected. There's no recognizable evolutionary path here, no route map. Just something that doesn't quite fit with any prescribed description or instruction. 

"Out of the blue and into the black. You pay for this but they give you that."  The old growler NY. 

McGuinness's

Random Fife history moment: Currently known as the Coastal Inn, previously the Boat, before that McGuinness's -  a pub in Cellardyke on John Street. Old names tend to stick so I still think of it as McGuinness's. It's set into the narrow rows of tightly packed cottages and houses that hug the Fife coast, born of sweet and bitter memories from fishing's glory days, world wide seafaring and military service. My granny's house was a few doors away to the right of this photo so I've early memories of the pub as it was 60 years ago or thereabouts. It was a no frills drinking shop and only men used it in those days. Now it's remodeled as a small pub that does food and B&B in a colourful corner of The East Neuk.

Space Saver

In an effort to move on in the age related battle against skills fade I decided to swap out my annoying slowly deflating tyre and replace it with the spare; a space saver. Years ago vehicle tyre rotation was encouraged and I'd do it from time to time to spread the tyre wear across the axles and so stop excessive damage and repeated stress. Most DIY blokes did this, it was a Sunday afternoon ritual every six months or so. 

Anyway I changed the offending tyre without any real problems and hopefully will get the puncture fixed this week. The strange satisfaction of doing something like this is ... strange. I felt like an old dog catching a flying stick in mid air. Nothing to prove but something to prove. It's finally come to this - unnecessary self capability tests just to show that you can carry out a simple, mundane task (without personal injury or making things worse).

You're Doing It All Wrong

Fabulous but unproven garden advice coming up: We inherited this bee dwelling when we arrived here. It's been ignored by bees for all the time we've lived here, despite our garden being a bit of a bee gathering place. Our lavender is a prime bee magnet. I know bees are regularly said to be in peril because of slack regulations on pesticides and all the pollution in the air but it seems our various bushes and plantings are helping the bees fight back. Having said that they've ignored this fine chunk of property (the bee bungalow) and stayed away from it. I still don't know where they go at the end of the day after a hard shift in the garden.

We did wonder why it was ignored by the bees but often these animal house just don't work. A quick google however told us that bee homes should face south and of course this one was stuck facing north and so ignored, even by homeless bees. Now I'm going to renovate the place and put it in some sunny south facing, sheltered spot and see what happens. Gardens need bees, wasps, spiders and all those other annoying flying and crawling things so let's give them a bit help and shelter with the right plants and little Chinese built timber cabins set securely in the best garden spot. Amen.

Call Any Vegetable

One of the joys of gardening is harvesting your own home grown crops. In this instance the home grown crops are represented by a potato (it's been baked). The onions and tomatoes came from a shop and are only there because I liked the photo. Our potato haul this year was reasonable but not large. The quality of the potatoes is however variable. They're OK for mashing and passable for baking but they tend to deteriorate into mush if over boiled. The deterioration happens quickly so you have to watch and test them constantly. It's stressful at the time, like observing an unexploded potato bomb (I should know). We tend not to eat a lot of spuds so it's not a major a problem. 

Our peas were a wild success but for all the space and care it takes to grow them we only got the equivalent of a large bag of frozen ones. They were tasty though and nice to eat freshly picked during garden meanderings. We also reared tiny amounts of strawberries, gooseberries, plums and a few pears. The apples are still too small to count as fruit so we're not expecting much of a yield now. As for the kale, cabbage and cauliflower, we suffered a total wipe out thanks to invisible pests.

In the end we'll never eat well from this garden and now that the cats are actively using selected chunks of it as field toilets, I'm thinking that we've achieved peak garden. Actually we may have reached it some time ago and now be entering a period of steady decline ending with a scrappy, leaf and moss covered wilderness where exotic insect populations can thrive and expand exponentially, eventually overwhelming us. A fitting end for this postage stamp sized outpost of civilisation I'd say.

Unfortunately

Lots of people have been posting this image* in order to protect social media accounts from AI bots crawling all over them. Unfortunately this is a scam or something similar and does not offer any protection against AI "harvesting" your data or anything else. You're being misled. So if you're tempted to post this on FB or Insta or Threads as a fix don't bother. In other words we're all screwed anyway and any protection option you might be seeking sank without trace some time ago. The only way you can protect yourself is to set your accounts to private ... or something 😏. 

*The reversed image means nothing by the way, I just liked adding it in. The "harvested" tweet below describes my own ongoing problems quite accurately.

Turner Prize Material

 A contender for this year's Turner Prize.

I like art. I like seeing it, hearing about it, reading about it, experiencing it, occasionally actually thinking about it and once in a while perhaps almost seriously, perhaps sardonically, creating art of some sort. Nothing special as I'm not qualified (?). So the manner and means of execution, materials, skill, imagination, originality, saying something, capturing a moment, making it real, are all important attributes and ingredients necessary to bring an art work into the world. As above.

What a diverse and curious world art has created for itself: a world of critical judgement, taste, choices, opinions, prices and costs, fashions, religions and philosophy, AI, treasure, exploitation and junk. Smoke and mirrors abound.

The trick is to never take any of it too seriously. Especially the people who hand out the prizes and plaudits; and to a lesser extent, those who win them. I suppose everything can be interesting but far fewer things are rewarding.

Welly Shoes

Unpaid promotion for Dunlop Wellington shoes: Apart from sounding like a character from a Wes Anderson movie and looking criminally uncool these shoes are very useful. Welly shoes are both practical and (with after market insoles fitted) quite comfortable. They have become my "go to" DIY footwear following extensive trials being performed in gardening, grass cutting, car washing, cat wrangling and nipping across the the Co-op in the rain types of everyday situations. I'm not sure why these aren't as common as Crocs, though clearly they're not as colourful or stylish - but you can easily get knock off ones in Aldi or the real thing on Amazon for not much proper cash ... and they're waterproof.

Signs and Sights

Strange sign placed in the middle of nowhere, kind of out of context but with an obvious public and environmental safety message, and whilst this message might be true up to a point there's opinions that forest fires can be healthy for the forest etc. if you take a slightly longer view. None of that accounts for the behaviour of idiots however and they're unlikely to even read or consider those words before they torch the place. I'd only give this sign a three out of ten. The font is awful, the message at the very least mixed and it's placement, randomly by some woodland where there's no parking, camping or obvious human activity, is odd.

Having said all that a few days (two) in the countryside is great for the soul. Perhaps not so good for the digestion but that's self inflicted and random dumb signs and seasonal tourist traffic are just minor irritations. A weekend with various friends and the "Fiddlers of Orchy" types is always a pleasure and the weather and landscapes were all close to being prefect. There was excellent food, drink, chat and rowdy, live music too, so good times ...

 

Bridgerton Hobbits

It's finally happened: watching the latest car crash (also worryingly enthralling) episode of "Rings of Power" I was struck by the odd possibility of some hobbit world that had developed a quasi-Bridgerton culture. I know, daft but somehow closer than you might think. The "Derry Girls" Irish speaking, dirty and clumsy hobbit ladies have now strayed into some unlikely hobbit/halfling camp in the middle of a desert where equally idiotic hobbits dream of ... the Shire (didn't see that coming). Despite living in a subsistence based economy in a wasteland, nobody actually does anything. Hmm.

The good news is that romance and relationships are now rearing their quirky little heads. The girls with mushrooms and carrots teased into their ratty hair and horrid grimy fingers are the new evangelists for some dear green place over the hills. Their peculiar beauty routines and the fact that, as active refugees, they have time for all this, following ordeal after ordeal, can only lead to some Bridgerton style mash up. Love and guerrilla gardens in the sand dunes as they pamper themselves before attending the Great Royal Ball; after that they find the promised land and are summoned before the queen for a success rating and a pat on the head.

In order for it to work Amazon and Netflix might have to compromise their flagship shows, but it could all happen. Never let artistic integrity (long gone for both now) get in the way of a genre bending opportunity and reviews that might actually be positive.

I'm only scratching at the surface but here are some ideas: The mad multi cultural Scottish Dwarves (yes they are fucking crazy and not in a good way) might team up with Rebus to solve crimes in an even more gloomy version of Edinburgh's underground crime world than the real one. Also I'm actually insulted by the way these two dimensional dwarves are written and portrayed. Not sure why.

The stiff, stuck up and frankly stupid elves could work as "agents" on Selling Sunset. Elves zipping about in high powered sports cars is something I'd watch. Perhaps their complete absence of body language, fashion style and sense of humour would transform the luxury property market in LA,  just maybe not in a good way. 

As for Sauron, the clearly psychotic demi-god with multiple childhood issues; a dose of fun and lighter relief in the spectrum of evil is required. Some sunshine, lost souls, cocktails and proper hedonism. I'd transport him back to ancient Greece to team up with Jeff Goldblum's Zeus in Kaos. They'd set the world to rights, no problem.

So what about the dumb-ass, space hopping, clueless Gandalf hanging out with Tom Bombadil? Tom never did make sense in the books but was an interesting enough diversion, now I'm not sure. He comes complete with a bizarre Dorset accent, one set to rival Robert Fripps'. Words fail me, so I'm stopping now. 

Cats V Helicopters

Putin must be stopped (said no western politician ever). Our flimsy defences are no match for the might of the Soviet forces and the backhanders the Kremlin has given to our illustrious political classes over the years. Who would have thought that 60 years of defence reviews, each one less thought through than the previous one would leave us with weakened and light weight armed forces? Nobody really knows what to do other than wag fingers and be photographed at the right places and then discussed in tedious Guardian articles.

Never mind all that, the military are on exercises this week. Scotland is under some imaginary siege. Grey/green convoys are out on the roads upsetting the traffic watchers. Greggs are doing record business as the September sunshine continues whilst the squaddies vape in unison in their break time. There are warnings and signs (?), paranoia and headlines and we have low flying helicopters buzzing our town. Well not very low but very loud when flying over us. Our normally stable cats don't like these pesky machines, understandably. They fill the sky over the garden with their engine noise and the cats scatter, headed into the relative safety of the house. They dislike them even more than vacuum cleaners, their other mechanical nemesis. Won't somebody think of the felines?

Aberdour Daily Photo

These photos are not really of Aberdour but more taken from Aberdour on a very calm, balmy September afternoon. A day of Indian summer weather. In the distance there is Inchcolm, an island in the Forth complete with ruined abbey and various abandoned fortifications. St Columba never did visit but stray angels can be seen there every Halloween. Below is a zoomed in shot. 

The afternoon is spent lazily wandering along in the sun, kicking the dust and making up band names up whilst discussing the physical ailments of the over 60s. We're filled up full with heavy but tasty sandwiches, along with soup and salad from a local bistro . (Never liked the word bistro but it is what it is - a sort of cafe where things are slightly more expensive and a little bit nicer but the service is worse).

A brave soul on a paddle board drifts across the bay at the Black Sands. There's sand there but it never has been black, or has it? Aberdour is a lovely wee place that I've got to know very well over many years but it still seems blighted by local shops and hotels that just can't quite make it, so there's a sense of noble failure and valiant but fruitless effort in the air. Shops and eateries churn on, in and out of business as the seasons turn over. It's a tough gig. The struggle is real. The premises are vacant.

The historical (they all are) castle and gardens. It's £7.50 (Highlander location = fan tourist trap) to visit so we maintained a safe distance to avoid being compromised. Out of shot is a robot lawnmower mowing a non robotic lawn, quietly and efficiently in line with mandatory manpower cuts. Meanwhile drones disguised as picnic tables await their next Amazon delivery mission.

Outbreak

 

There's been a nasty outbreak of these screens on my Planet X feed. Maybe it's me, maybe it's things in the wider world, maybe it's retribution. I'll never know and I'm not bothered. If the whole thing folded tomorrow we'd all just go elsewhere and browse. We're basically all cattle in little herds chewing on straw bales and looking blankly over the fence. X is just one of many straw bales. I'm also well aware that I'm only really writing this insignificant message in Sharpie on yet another brand of straw bale.