Remembrance of Things Past

In Search of Lost Time.

There's nothing new about a bit of nostalgia. It's always been there.

So, this (Reading Rock Festival) was my first ever festival. I'd been to loads of gigs but nothing this big. I think it was 1974 or thereabouts. It was. I was 18, and a good pal and I hitchhiked down the A1 to London and onwards to Reading. I can't quite recall the various lifts we took, but I'm pretty sure the last leg was by train from Ealing. In Ealing I ate some rollmop herring, fresh from a jar on the counter in a hot and dingy bar, along with a pint of warm Guinness. 

Most of the journey down from Scotland had been spent going from pub to pub and, funnily enough, in the final pub in Reading we met two young ladies. Not sure they were old enough to be in a pub but ... we all sat cross legged on the floor together, had a smoke, a laugh, a few more pints, and off we all went. I'll say no more, but that set the festival weekend up nicely.

I do recall paying hard cash at the festival gate, not quite as stated above. Entry was simple, no apps or searches, just an arm stamp. I thought it was only a fiver to get in but it must have been more. Seems like silly money nowadays. The price of a sourdough loaf in Stockbridge. Damp Scottish notes, almost but never quite legal tender in England.

Our tent was sky blue with a large rendition of Shadowfax painted in white across the sides, done by my own fair but shaky hand. My thinking was that it would be easy to locate once we reached that tricky point in proceedings where we needed to find the tent. When that need arose and being the only tent with a large white horse on it, I was able to find it. I was also able to find the two young ladies' tent nearby, so now there were various options open to us all.

Which bands and artists do I recall seeing, or even hearing? It's probably quite a short list. The weather was poor and the crowd were a bit bad tempered. Wet and rowdy. Hells Angels and a chugging Hippie remnant. Punk had yet to happen and Glam had no place here. At one point the crowd got angry and turned a fish and chip van onto its roof. We all cheered as if it was some profound statement.

The stages, only two of them, always seemed a bit far away or at least beyond my easy reach. PA systems back then worked well indoors. They could be ear splitting (the famous 99db or thereabouts limit), but outside perhaps not so good or clear or even loud enough. I'm not sure whether Charlie Watkins, the WEM genius and father of the modern PA, was working that day. There never will be a better looking 4 x 12.

I know that I saw Thin Lizzy, it may have been the Gary Moore version, I'm not sure, they were a distant blur. 10cc were good to bop around to and sing along with. Focus were kind of dull in that predictable progressive way, although Jan Akkerman was as faultless a player as I expected. I wish I could remember seeing Traffic, but I can't. Damn. They were the silver darlings of the music press in those days, in ways never to be repeated. 

I have a faint memory of the Alex Harvey Band but I must have been close to exhaustion by the time they came on to close the Friday show. The strains of  Zal's guitar on "Faith Healer" still gives me a nervous twitch and dim and dark flashbacks. Was it here or in the Glasgow Apollo? I think it was raining and various substances had been consumed. None of them nutritious. Tonight we were the mud people.

Monday morning came and the rain did not stop. The site was a haunted and bloody mess. All our stuff was soaked. The girls were headed back to Sidcup in Kent and so we said our farewells. Thanks or no thanks to a tip off, we were now headed to Windsor. A group of people, none of whom we knew, intended to crash and extend the Windsor Free Festival and so start some kind of revolution. This seemed like a good idea. We piled onto a train and arrived in Windsor, water still dripping from our stuff up on the luggage rack. Little did we know that the mighty powers of the Thames Valley Police Force were expecting us.

In a small column, armed with a few beers, we entered Windsor Great Park where there was indeed a festival site. It had been set up a few days ago. Keeping it going was not authorised. A solitary band played away on a small stage for a while. Multiple slack versions of "Hey Joe" and "Street Fighting Man" were tried out. We put up the tent, under a tree. Shadowfax, still damp, was off at a gallop once again. The toilets were crudely excavated trenches with a number of logs rolled over the top on which to sit. The ice cream vans had left and there was no food. Numerous joints were passed around. I fell asleep.

A policeman woke me up at about 4 am. He had pulled out the guy ropes and the tent collapsed on us. I looked out and up and saw about a hundred dark blue police officers lined up against the trees and heading our way. There was shouting. A few folks were grabbed by the scruff of the neck and, bit by bit, everyone was arrested, or something. The police gave us a good arse kicking. Nothing new there. We were all sleeping in the Queen's back garden and that was a crime because clearly we had not been invited.

The festival was obviously over.

We hung around in Windsor for a while and reviewed our shaky circumstances. Some folks still thought a revolution was possible, but perhaps Windsor was not the best place to start it. Not today anyway. So we got a train down to Portsmouth and crashed out at my friend's sister's house. Perhaps we could borrow some cash from her. We did, and headed to the pub down the road. It was 1974 after all.

Microsoft Edge

File it under "what were they thinking?" I've decided that I cannot stand Microsoft Edge. Well, not the home or welcome screen anyway.

A bug scare pulled me away from Chrome and, as only an occasional Microsoft Edge user beforehand, I never really thought much about it. Now I know. It's the platform for a hopeless, bullshit muddle of AI-curated non-stories and pointless adverts. It pretends to be helpful but is completely useless. Just tell me more about things that I don't care about and give me clickbait articles and pop ups that are of no interest to me. Are they of interest to any user? I doubt it. It's the most banal and low brow, insulting content you could imagine.

The thing that gets me is that it doesn't have to be like this. There could be good and interesting material on show, adverts that are subtle or at least well put together, credible news stories with meaningful headlines that aren't bulked out with what is, I presume, AI drivel. But no, it's a race to the bottom. Celebrity nonsense, crappy gossip, factoids and YouTube shorts links. Ugh. In summing up, this is how it all comes across ...

"Let's not even try to do anything good or even reasonable. We'll make everything as shit as we can. There you are. Thanks. Enjoy. It's what you all deserve. We could do better but you're just not important to us. You're only numbers and metrics and you need us. Of course there's good stuff out there, but we are the keepers of the gate and firstly you must pass through our pools of AI crap and multiple levels of clickbait ignorance in order to reach your desired destination."

While I'm on this mildly enjoyable rant I'd like to thank Admiral Car Insurance for a really unpleasant experience. It turns out that after being a good customer, no claims, paying up on time etc. but then cancelling a policy, one that's been running for about 20 years but stopped for good reasons, your final conversation is with a message bot who can't quite grasp that you're closing the account. Then when it does finally understand, it charges you £60 for the service. Nope. I doubt I'll be back - they do say customers can't be wrong. 

Strawberry Project

Nothing remarkable to see here. Just strawberries getting their act together and quick as a flash it's June already. Starting to turn red etc. Little do they know they're part of our strawberry project. Nothing too sinister really, just trying to grow some "off the ground" strawberries that, for a change, are edible and free from the hazards of ill considered cat pee and poo contamination. We're growing them on a south facing  artificial terrace so we look like newly civilised gardeners learning from the mistakes of the past, of course.

Black and White.

Some browsers give you more. Some give you heartache and pop ups. Some are out of control. I've yet to settle on one that's just OK. I'm about thirty years into this. It's a chore and a burden, all the unpaid research, bug watching and virus dodging.

Anyway, the tin exchange goes on. Cars are going, cars are coming. It's that time of year. Old Missie requires a proper write up and funeral. It's there at the back of my mind, waiting to be blurted out on Substack with some tears, rage and quiet satisfaction. I did something that I said I would do. I'll never be the same again. I'm a retired petrolhead. The worst kind.

Below we have our enhanced collection of Chinese food containers. These "one time use" items solve both our long and short term storage needs. We squeeze every ounce of value from their brittle skins. Food, tools, screws and nuts, stationery, squidgy paints and random bits and pieces all find a safe home beneath their clickable lids.

Not Long Till Winter

Logs and fuel related stuff are in the almost summer sale. Seasonal bargains. It's not even summer proper yet but I can't resist a huge (?) discount on logs and firewood and having them stowed away early, all ready for the ravages of winter. Luckly we've a lot of storage space for logs. Mainly due to having an excess of pallets a couple of years ago, in the days when I was buying alloy wheels and other odd things from eBay. Now the pallet-wood timber and bases have been repurposed into a bigger log store and a garden pool. If things ever get really tough I suppose we could just chop up the log store and burn it. 😉

On a Serious Note: Genocide Live

This image of an interactive map is taken from the website Genocide.live. It covers events that have taken place in Gaza, the West Bank, and beyond. It is both a record and a diary of the evidence, with videos, photographs, testimony and locations that shows the brutality of the ongoing genocide that has been enacted not only against Palestinians, but also against many others in these areas and extending out into the Mediterranean Sea. It is a harrowing account of the violent actions of the Israeli Defence Force, not only on land and beyond their borders, but also in international waters.

I understand that no nation is perfect; wrongs and unjust acts are commonplace and committed across the world on a daily basis. Certainly Hamas and other similar organisations have blood on their hands, but these ongoing Israeli reactions and actions are crimes beyond the pale. Israel remains a rogue state, aloof from international law and continues to enjoy the support of the USA; it's government, military, corporations, financial entities, and organisations, as well as the more subtle, yet obvious, support of the United Kingdom and it's own businesses and agencies.

Much of this is badly reported, misrepresented, or distorted beyond reason in the mainstream media and in discussions surrounding the UK's involvement. I did not vote for any of this and I am ashamed that the UK hides the truth and denies the rights of the Palestinian people in order to favour it's Zionist connections and sources of political funding. Be aware, this website is not an easy read and contains very disturbing images and information. But ...

Don't let the bastards grind you down. 

Good Boots

These fine looking boots are now over sixteen years old and I suppose I'd say they're not really still going as strongly as I might like. Well, despite their battered and bruised appearance they remain watertight and comfortable. They are now relegated to garden use and the occasional trip to the Co-op to get whatever we forgot to get elsewhere (or an emergency breakfast). Sad times I know. Better weather expected. Smoke 'em if you've got 'em. Drink plenty of milk. Eat, love and pay the River Styx ferryman. I may well wear the ailing boots to the recycling centre tomorrow or whenever, just to impress other members of the general public, as if they'd take any notice.

Cat v Squirrel v Tree

Zippy the cat sits and takes aim at a rather noisy squirrel visitor (at the very edge of the house by the gutter top). The squirrel has been calling out a loud and plaintive "cat" warning to all in the vicinity for about an hour from high up on our wall. Zippy's plan appears to be to hypnotize the squirrel by outstaring it from a safe distance. That didn't really work out so well and after a while the squirrel returned to the woods. No doubt it will return. We have bird bait peanuts that it's rather fond of.

Later on we had a bit of a problem when George decided that it might be a good idea to climb the tree in our neighbour's garden. It's a big tree and he very quicky got up to a height of about about 15ft. He then decided the tree was not for him and turned round to begin what I hoped would be a controlled and measured descent. Unfortunately it was not and a few seconds after I took this picture he made a less than graceful, uncontrolled attempt to return to the ground. He fell about 10ft and bumped himself on the fence on the way. I think his pride suffered more than anything physical. I hope so. He seems fine now. Thoughts and prayers please (for me not him).

Final Fever

A long and busy day out in Glasgow at the Scottish Cup Final. Dunfermline v Celtic at Barclay's Hampden Park. Nice to think that some distant member of my family owns/sponsors a football stadium. Their ticket app and system actually works really well, much to my surprise. Ticketing apps and apps in general and their silent domination of our lives are not my favourite things.

On reflection the best part was the pub time spent with family and friends in a sunny beer garden in Battlefield as a foot soldier in a muddled up army of fans. Many of whom, (mum, dad and the kids decked out for the day) don't really attend matches often so they don't quite know how to behave or react. They've not done the full training regime; seeing mid-winter muddy defeats or mind numbing goalless draws, but whatever, it all adds something to the atmosphere. I do alot of people watching. My SBS training kicks in.

Scottish football has a number of ingrained problems but I'm not going to list them here, it's only a game (?). Anyway we didn't win, for a variety of reasons. The starting line up had a few of us shaking our heads so we knew it was going to be a rough ride. Fan wisdom is a pretty much gut driven thing but it often hits the mark. I've been watching Dunfermline home and away for over 60 years, I feel I've seen it all now. The consolation goal was well received when it eventually arrived but by the end I felt the weight of what was an emotionally draining experience; but not a bad one. My grandkids (the grown up ones) were joking that this might be my last cup final. The numbers certainly back that up. I like their darker sense of humour.

But, soft ...

"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and the window cleaner is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou, her window cleaner, art more effective than she."

Never let it be said that this page is a complete and uncultured pile of nonsense and that it makes only the weakest of efforts to keep up the high standards of composition and literary inspiration that the vast army of it's readers i.e. (mostly) bots and AI flunkies expect from such a poor, battered and bewildered author, namely me. Special thanks to old William for simply springing to mind when I took these "window cleaner" photos.

Tokyo Fog

Due to quickly misreading a blackboard style menu, my first thought was that this was called a Tokyo Frog, or Tokyo Snow but I can now confirm that it's an actual Tokyo Fog. Apparently it's a heathly kind of cold coffee kind of a drink. Now I have reached a point in life where, though I am intrigued by all these wonderful, newly emerging beverages, some that seem to arrive from nowhere, I'm not really all that bothered about trying them out. My spirit of adventure has dwindled somewhat. I know what I like and I'll probably stick with that, though I have been swayed a bit in my thinking after trying out a neat wee Cortado or two. I like the dinky cup. Most cafe coffees taste pretty similar to me.

This burst of sporadic stepping out has for some reason been blamed on my interest in the "Rooster" comedy/drama TV show. A character in it, one I don't care for either, has an unhealthy passion for early morning Cortados. The thing is the Cortado isn't really all that different from the other things on the coffee menu. It's just another odd name you need to try to get your tongue around when you're in the queue. You think you have a choice but ... modern life isn't really like that much of the time.

Analogue People

 "The folks who like to be called, what they have always been called, the folks who live and will likely die on that analogue hill".

Dancing

If any postman you happen to know just wants to get up and take the dancefloor by storm, don't you dare try to stop him. This will all make a little more sense if you click on the pic above and read on.

Count Me Out (Again)

Old news refried: I'm done with this shit. The Labour Party has lost it's marbles. The Prime Minister is a gormless idiot. They are all intent on hiding a shedload of corruption and duplicity. So just stop the clocks while we rearrange the Titanic's deckchairs. I sincerely hope Burnham loses the staged "byelection" as he's no better than the rest and err ... nevermind.

Not Sorry

I never did like The Clash, admit it, they were a bit shit. Also they just kind of gave me the creeps. Plus there were other much better and more talented bands around at the time that deserved more attention and didn't get it. Anyway RIP Joe Strummer, no hard feelings. Click if you want to read more but in summary, that's all I really have to say about them.

Prelude

Prelude: It should be the ambition of all sensible people of a certain age to have a very brief obituary planned. Then you can know the relief of having the weight of your life being reduced to one single sentence (or thereabouts).

Clearer Than Other Things

You get older, you get forgetful. Some of the time. Any flashbacks of true clarity however can really make your day. Click on the above to read more.

Butter Me Down

This time I'm mostly moaning about buttery things and showing my complete lack of sophistication when it comes to popular modern foodstuffs. Click pic to read or don't and just avoid it altogether.

Inevitable

That's really all I have to say.

Use a Medium Font

In some homes guitars hang upon the wall as if they were works of art or battle trophies or even awards for some incredible feat of shredding, jangle poppery or complex jazz chording excess. Mine lies upon the couch because it doesn't give a fuck about any of that shit.

An almost famous piece of random passive aggressive absurdity. Please feel free to read it but not to understand it but also completely get it. You may also wish that you were the one who had pinned it to the wall in the coffee making corner of the office in the name of being disruptive. Thank You (should always be in uppercase).

Bungle the cat looks down disdainfully at mere mortals who might try to challenge her right to sit up high upon the garden wall. Well, we'll certainly be coming for that overgrown ivy shortly. It's way too green and shiny for the likes of us ... but then it's habitat ... 😟