Non-directors cut

After over coming some struggles with time, software and the usual age related span of attention problems I suffer from, our Marryoke video has finally been put together, at least this version has anyway. Another 56 minutes of unedited and unused material remains and will at some point be cobbled together to form a directors cut type special edition.

Derren Brown don't let us down

He's an enigma alright.

Enjoyed a mind boggling evening in the company of Derren Brown. I figured about three tricks out of about twenty. The final enigma trick took a while to get going but ended up in a total blitzkrieg of visual punchlines and slow burning pay-offs. Highly entertaining and bewildering but try as I might I can't seem to get myself hypnotised however.

Should be doing something else, not blogging.

Hammer of the gods.

For some inexplicable reason I stayed up to watch the Beeb’s “Greatest Rock Band” finale show last night, I never did see the other five episodes (phew!). Like most great rock stars hairstyles it had now shorn itself down to various three horse races to find the best (favourite) bands and players over the last forty odd years. That in itself is a strange fact as is hearing a wide age range of young and woefully inarticulate celebrity fans arguing about the merits of rockers their parents would know much better. And then there were the celebrity arguments, most of which were along the lines of “I really like him (no hers here) so you should vote for him”. Each time the name was mentioned a block of stock footage was shown just to add to the now indistinct and pallid world of hazily recalled greatness these guys live in. Page nursing the double neck, Slash with a top hat and fag, Hendrix on the Lulu Show, Freddy Mercury in drag and so on.

Of course this kind of for fun competition never works and really only displays the gulf between genres, the variety of style and the disparity of contribution between the exponents, particularly when you get into the “who invented the riff” or who first used the mike stand as a “phallic prop” arguments, as if they were discovering X-Rays or landing on the moon. Even the terminology is completely misunderstood, Slash’s (orgasmic (?) as it was described) intro to Sweet Child of Mine keeps being referred to as a riff, eh? whilst Flea’s bass playing is “orchestral” and nobody really understands what drummers do because its all just an “engine room”, a bit like going below on the Titanic and having to wear ear defenders then?

Queen of course featured strongly, they however inhabit a unique place in the land of the cartoon undead owing more to pantomime and camp cabaret than actual grimy, grungy rock. or the mean blues that it sprang from. A few great singles, six shite albums and an overblown stage show, really they were the UK’s Kiss but with a bit less make up and they have aged and died out rather badly.

So we had the usual suspects but no keyboards section, a glaring omission which may have been explained or simply didn’t work within the “power trio or front man” structure that the show seemed to be stuck with - the truth is that apart from the odd Hammond heavy chord, Rhodes fill or a few synth pieces I could live without rock keyboards quite nicely as could the rest of the world. They should’ve been in there however if only to maintain some proper balance.

So however irritating it may be to reduce thousands of albums and performances down to a ridiculous short list a winner eventually arrived, thanks to numerous drunk punters phoning from the pub, in Led Zep being the best band ever. The space between the 70s and the present day seems now oddly devoid of a brute force in music, that can’t be right, where have all the big bands gone wrong? We need to move on. Anyway the result is ok with me albeit it’s guitar players I rate and for the record my current list would, in no particular order be:

Jeff Beck - technically brilliant and innovative but always in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong combination of musicians and so criminally dodged the massive career he deserved. Not strong on personality or self awareness I fear.

Jimmy Page - did everything except sing which is probably just as well, stole riffs and developed them, wrote 20 killer originals, explored highs and lows, did the twin mike ambient recordings, used little amps, invented forward echo and played a Danelectro live. Just don’t describe his playing as “strident” please, we’re all fed up with that. He virtually make it impossible for any average player to pick up a double neck and look cool or comfortable.

Joe Walsh - in the James Gang used power chords brilliantly, did slide and echo better than anyone and had a perfect sense for build and dynamics, lost it eventually but a truly great early player. Three fine albums and then the smoker you drink etc. Not a bad career.

Jimi Hendrix - a gentle, spaced, fruitcake feedback genius who made the perfect 27, if only a wider range of his material was played and remembered rather than just Purple Haze or Hey Joe. The Experience were the ideal power trio.

Steve Howe - not sure why but he seems to get more tonal variation out of his guitars so has no distinct signature sound but still is unique, surprisingly melodic, not blues based and nicely unpopular and unfashionable, or so I’d imagine. Shame he didn’t like “Owner of a lonely heart” though.

The James Gang Rides Again - and in style.

Feels like summer

We spent most of today on another continuous improvement project, the garden. Today's sun baked and sweltering milestones were slightly more creative than the normal regular battle to keep down the weeds and control the great Serengeti like grasslands we look out upon. The new Zen Garden of Delights (as above) now has a compact and bijou water feature to soothe and calm our over active minds. It resides in a tranquil corner with numerous colourful blooms peeking over and anxiously developing their space and rooting out like some miniature version of Babylon's Hanging Gardens - well almost.

Then we painted various stationary artifacts but mostly the popular and practical Steampunk inspired chimney thing. Strange, curious and unknown flying insects visited the scene and stuck to the wet paint whilst I drank shandy and Ali supped long cool spritzers.

The once sad, faded and somewhat neglected wooden grey squirrel has now been painted red and that may result in us receiving a handsome support grant from the WWF or Blue Peter, you never can tell these days who'll latch onto a good piece of work. So that was that until the rains came down about 5:30.

Shelf

Nicely enigmatic, imagined sketch, much appreciated.

Wobble on here for more.

Solar power

"Where the earth and sun meet, in the perfumed gardens of the busy mind there is forever the mystic promise of a sparkling, peaceful, neutral water feature to soothe away the cares and pressures of all of this world and possibly the next..."

Top tips for a long and pointless life.

I keep myself looking young and cheerful by regularly stretching my back and shoulder muscles whilst sitting upright in a wooden chair.

I eat a strict diet of blueberries, cream, corned beef and bananas.

I regularly listen to Radio Scotland but with the volume turned down.

I sleep with my head under the pillow and use a soothing alarm tone to wake up each day at 6.20 AM.

I regularly master complex mind puzzles such as Microsoft Movie Maker, cardboard box collapsing, frittering and the sorting out of odd socks.

I leave doors open (slightly).

I rotate shoes.

For relaxing travel, drive with the passenger window half down, the A/C off, stay in the outside lane and suck a strong mint.

Mimic things.

Acqua Panna

Acqua Panna = nice, clean, refreshing water.

Home late, nice baked cod and mushroom left simmering for me, boiled spuds and a green salad, late tea at 2115 but much appreciated. Meanwhile Firefox has let me down for the last time, I thought it was indestructible and eternal but it failed me and I cannot forgive. Hello Google Chrome, how long will this new love last?

Good day yesterday: Sunny breakfast, F1 on the telly and then an unusual version of the same live at windy Knockhill. Knockhill is one big hill that has wrapped a racing circuit around itself perching pits and a start/finish at the top and a snake of road running down and away through some scary curves and turns- nice cheese and chips in the cafe too.

House where the dead live

A the foot of the garden is a mysterious house full of dead people, we were happily unaware of it being so close until quite recently. It's been a busy week, too busy for this blogging nonsense.

"Why the long face?" It's horsey weekend around here so there are a large number of horses and horse related activities taking place. Wandering around narrowly avoiding horse dung and drinking beer gave us ample opportunity to discuss the final episodes of LOST and make nonsensical RV related purchasing plans. Then we watched Eurovison and ate and drank from a sumptuous and surreal Eurobuffet. The UK was well placed - last.

A local lane and in my view a decent photo: meanwhile Dennis Hopper died aged 74, not much I can do or say about that.

Unconventional laundry measures #1. The Improvised Victorian Drying System.

Circles

This circle, which is more than 300ft in diameter, was cut into a field of oil seed rape by Wilton Windmill at Wilton near Marlborough. Experts say that the design may be connected to Euler's Identity, a complex formula devised by the 18th Century Swiss mathematician Leonhard Euler.

Meanwhile the final episode of LOST has taken this viewer and the series in a full and frustrating circle. Now I understand everything and nothing, have developed my own point of view despite the actual storyline and the huge body of swelling, frustrated opinion bubbling out there. I guess if you are going to follow a TV show for six years it may as well be one that provokes and tantalises even if it fails to deliver the sucker punch, it's the journey not the arrival that counts - some may say and I may well agree.

LAST LOST

A common media experience beckons...we join the tribe...we leave the tribe...then we go the dentists and possibly on to work. Then we return home and enter a period of reflection.

Poached Eggs

Birdhouse now in place, in the afternoon...

...breakfast scoffed in the morning.

The unexpected heat wave found us breakfasting alfresco in Dunfermline. A fine opportunity that allowed me to renew my relationship with poached eggs, Parma ham and coffee. A warm, satisfying if a little inconsistently served breakfast, yum.

We returned home and then like mad dogs toiled all afternoon in the peculiar and ever increasing heat, squaring off numerous gardening and outdoor tasks and exterior odd jobs. A very satisfying day that passed quickly and thanks to sugary drinks and some alcohol without any adverse dehydration taking place...all this as we count down the hours to the final moments of LOST.

Walk away

I'm not much of a blogger really, I can see by the overall frequency and patchy quality of my posts. Often they are indistinct and often they exclude altogether major life events or occasions (those may appear in pieces on Facebook or more likely nowhere at all). Then again there are no rules, it's all vapour, vacuous and variable stuff, life passes by and we pass through it, somewhat bewildered but happy in that questionable and cosy state. Many things happen to us, planned and unplanned, exciting or routine and mundane. Whatever goes on or in here I'm glad I have family and friends to rely upon and daft projects to pursue and at the end of it all I can walk away with Ali beside me.

Thanks again for all the wedding wishes, the unexpected gifts and the special way you made us both feel. You know who you are.

Married

I got married to this stunning lady on the 15th May. There are many things I could say about the event and the experience and maybe I will one day. In the meantime Mr CBQ records it all very eloquently and with brilliant photography here.

Running out of time

Sweets for my sweet.

Sugar Rush: I was glad to eat some pork chops for tea after a day filled with various chocolate related food testing (apart from breakfast), most of which defied the laws of physics. The sweets however keep on piling up, fortunately our up and coming house party affair should see the stock diminish.

Earlier on it was football at East Fife, a 5k run at Hopetoun and me scouting for an interesting property to revitalise, a retirement project you may say - anybody got a spare £1m they'd like to share? You have to dream big, imagine, visualise, realise, acclimatise and as necessary rob a few banks. We're working on it.

Front elevation: Facing south, a lot of potential here. Garage space for the two Bentleys, the MX5, an auto giro and three Ducatis. Lovin' the laundry chute, family rooms and "longhouse culture" developing, the potential for grape cultivation and the extensive use of large Velux windows. A river also runs through it - accidentally.

End elevation: Some DDA issues to resolve but I'm quietly confident we can sort them out, my quad bike should also get through the doorway. Roadies please note the fairly easy hump for the 4x12s and the Transit sized door. Handy.

North side: Small, secluded courtyard and rooms with views of woodland, trees, stones, more woodland and a wall of some sort. Curtains and glazing strategy required.

Pending a favourable result on the financial markets, the bingo and a stable Euro tomorrow we're in business, I'll (almost) wager.

P.S. We awoke this morning to discover water that should be in the upstairs bathroom pipes dripping onto the downstairs dining room table - never the best start to a Sunday morning. It was also running down the light fitting, onto various papers and projects and soaking the period furniture in it's soggy wake. I took immediate action and headed out to the fair city of Methil for an urgently needed bacon roll and a polystyrene coffee. Oops!

Splatter

Spent most of the day clearing out and painting the downstairs toilet in two shades of white, now official designated a confined space- but one with a peculiar echo. If I can ever get a 3/4 size guitar and some tiny recording device then I'll maybe spend more time there.

Meanwhile in the wilder, wider world I'm wondering when Billy Bragg will become PM (or maybe David Miliband by Tuesday?) and poor wee Alex Salmond has been labeled as irrelevant, he doesn't like that much. A few people wont sleep well tonight.

World's most expensive car....

...looks pretty funky to me but not really quite what you'd expect. Must be the B name.

Meanwhile we are all quietly drifting along without a government, so far the world has not come to an end. So far so good so predictable.

In Scotland not much happened really.

Election

Thank goodness the election is nearly over, perhaps we can get back to some kind of normality for a few days.

Voting in Newton today was a bit of an anti-climax, at 5.35 not a soul in the Polling Station and only four candidates to choose from - I coloured in my ballot paper with the blue crayon on a string ( a primitive but effective security device) and returned home for a well deserved bowl of pasta. I'm traveling tomorrow so an early night beckons...

Turkish Barber

On a mostly unplanned trip to Livingstone and with a few minutes to spare for stumbling I stumbled upon a barber shop and entered hoping for a good pre-wedding scalping. In a rare (for me) gender twist I soon found myself in the torture seat and having my hair cut not by a blond thirty/forty something lady but by a swarthy, hairy young Turkish fellow. Here in this leather haven in the heart of a fabricated heart of a shapeless town centre there was no small talk, psychotic mirror staring, elaborate and puzzling hand gestures or meaningless conversation about schools, holidays or the weather, he just got on with the job. Best hair cut/ear cut/eyebrow cut I've had in years - but it did cost twice the usual price so there may be some equality and diversity issues going on in the background...hmmm. No it's the rates, overheads, rental and FM costs.

Wedding cake

Eating wedding cake more than a week before the wedding may seem peculiar, actually it's quite alright to do this, even in mixed company so damn you all with your social conventions. I enjoyed the sugar rush and the sticky jam on my tongue, what will the cake be like on the big day?

Around here there is the real potential for things to get frantic, you can feel bad boy frantic pulling at your sleeve, whispering in your ear or lurking there at the back of some deep cupboard, claws at the ready and fangs sharpened. It's always worse when you become confused and in my case absent minded or dippy, once you realise you've had a bout of this you wake up the sleeping frantic demon and he sets about devouring you alive. The only known non-medicinal antidote? A cup of coffee, a comfy couch and a slice of (wedding) cake - for breakfast.

Clint eats breakfast from the cat breakfast buffet narrowly avoiding the wedding cake and the Wednesday sacrificial mouse (out of shot, possibly under the comfy couch).

Public Holiday

Fruits of my labours. One I made earlier.

Another (Public Holiday) day spent messing about with engines when I should've been gardening. Well the engines form a large part of the garden activity, powering lawn mowers and strimmers. After the winter break they are pretty stubborn about starting so everything becomes an effort requiring extra gas and numerous cord pulls, swearing and sweating. When they do burst into life at long last, it's a great feeling. Unfortunately then you have to do the work, generally resulting in more pain, swearing and sweat - then you have to stop to refuel.

So after a few hours of shovelling, cutting, fencing and wandering around the garden looking bewildered I gave up and built a fire, sat down beside it and swallowed 8 olives, some spicy couscous, a can of Magners and a can of Bud, then I fell asleep in the watery sunshine. Roll on the next public holiday and/or day spent in the garden.

I try to avoid those "ten daily photos" or "weird signs" or "bizarre" bits you get in the on-line papers. I try and then of course I look at them like everybody else, always silly, funny and within the tirade of other information bombarding you, all equally forgettable. So much information to view, scan and quite quickly consume and lose somewhere in the ageing grey matter and wispy pre-election ether. The Huff Post is a decent source of crap, tat, gossip and meaningless American media stories, not sure why I like it.

Typical Turkish Hotel?