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 ... 😟

Fractured Politics

We are living in troubled times but frankly there's hee-haw anybody can do right now to fix things. At least we're not living in Englandshire.

In other news one of my daughters shared this with me this morning and I can’t quite get it out of my head:

It could be said that horse’s legs are fingers, so horse’s run on their “fingers”.

But horses do not run on their fingers in the same way humans do, though their anatomy is somewhat analogous.

Hoof Structure

• Horses run on the tips of their toes, which are covered by hooves.

• The hoof acts like a large, strong nail that protects the toe and supports the horse's weight.

Comparison to Human Anatomy

• In humans, we walk on our fingers and toes, while horses bear their weight on a single elongated toe.

• The horse's hoof corresponds to the last bone of a human finger, allowing them to run efficiently despite their large size.

Benefits of This Structure

• This unique toe structure enables horses to support their heavy bodies while running and performing other activities.

• It provides stability and strength, essential for their survival in the wild.

In summary, while horses do not run on their fingers, their locomotion is based on a similar principle of weight-bearing on their toe tips, adapted for their specific needs.

Recently Consumed

1. Some wine.

2. Some soup.

3. Some sandwiches.

We are what we eat. Most days it's from a limited range of things. The sort of stuff as seen in the pics in all it's ordinary and average glory. However I refuse to list the amount of micro-plastics I've knocked back because a) I don't want to boast and b) I don't want it to look like I'm addicted to those tasty little darlings that just pop up, mostly unseen these days, everywhere, like coleslaw or traffic cones. That's what I'm regularly hearing from my various reliable sources.

Another Greenish World

A day of trecking in the not too green wilds. This is Scotland a few minutes before the rain. Not very wild either, just a bit dangerous underfoot for those of a certain age. I may have parked up on the verge too, because despite the extensive CCTV coverage we enjoy in the UK it's not quite a police state yet. The thing is no matter who you vote for it won't change the faceless state's appetite for total surveillance anytime soon. 

I'm happy that the mountain goats can pass us by easily while the ravens watch from their rocky homes as if we were truly enemies of the state. Naturally I'd trust the ravens more than the state right now. It's all just Middle Earth as you'd expect it to be but maybe a bit over towards the left hand side, up to a point. The fact that I enjoyed a bowl of lentil and bacon soup for lunch must of course remain a closely guarded secret. Careless talk etc.

Personal Cherub

Your own, personal Cherub.

Someone to hold your phone.

You're not alone. 

Eternity awaits.

Openings

As I lead a relatively quite life I'm often caught out by what might be going on over there in the wider outside world. So this idea seems to me a new and original way to look at a career arc. Take a well established band and create an album/playlist (call it what you will) made up of the opening tunes from all of their albums. With a band like Yes* there's 26 opening tracks between 1969 and 2026. It creates a unique view of the artist's output; style, line-ups, changes etc. Not my idea of course, it was this guy CBQ. His other musical projects and live work are all there on his site.

*Other artists and bands are readily available for such a listening exercise, all out there somewhere. They make still be plugging away, they may be extinct by now.  That doesn't matter.

Mr CBQ has also done some work on "Endings" - you get the idea.

Downton Abbey Demon Slayer

The long anticipated 2026 Strawberry Project is now well and truly underway. It's been years in the making so we're looking forward to it all bearing no nonsense fruit etc.

Can't wait to see this at the cinema.

Wingstop - where fast food arrives slowly: An interesting chicken based dining experience. Not a bad one either but I won't hurry back. I give it six months.

The last in a long line of fairly short lived (superior) blueberry muffins. Photo taken under glass because that's the kind of wacky, crazy thing we like to get up to in the stone temple kitchen. Looks a bit sad on it's own really. Badly needs eaten.