Tesco daily photo #4

When you consider the awful situation in Japan and the huge post earthquake problems they currently face most of the moans and gripes we have here are truly trivial, "uneven surfaces" as signed above being a good example you might say. I often wonder how we in the cosy wee UK would cope with major disaster, we are probably a lot less resilient and capable than we might think. The recent snow chaos in December (always chaos here when it snows) being a good example of our poor management of changing or difficult conditions and our low tolerance of inconvenience.

So this brings me to the Tesco sign shown above. It's a classic example of how we fail to fix problems and how we are expected to ignore and accept things here. After a while stop noticing them as they stray from our immediate vision. This sign has been in place at South Queensferry Tesco for over a year. It's purpose is to warn customers of some uneven slabs by the main entrance and that's that, so in a year all that has been done about the slabs is the placing of a hand written sign in a free standing frame. When you consider Tesco's huge profits...obviously a little bit of facilities management, a few bags of sand and some concrete must be a little beyond their means at the moment.

Planet Cookie

Maybe it's not the same as baking from scratch but you do get a decent cookie using a Betty Crocker mix (or box set if want to further legitimise the use of a box of ingredients). There's no way I'll win in today's family bake-out in honour of my granddaughter's third birthday but at least I'm in the competition albeit the actual cookie execution was done by my daughter. It looks like a little planet I think.

News and photos from Japan continues to shock and amaze, awful and incredible scenes.

A little night music, chords and compositions.

Fred Goodwin isn't a banker

Nice smile from Fred, retired banker I believe.

Just in case you missed it Fred Goodwin cannot now be referred to as a banker thanks to a super injunction, so I'll certainly not be describing the great businessman who wrecked RBS and things in general as a banker. Remember, Fred Goodwin is not a banker, Fred Goodwin is not a banker etc. etc.

Help ma Boab

Abu Dhabi Grand Prix apparently - topical piece of reporting from Ali Dhabi.

It's been a long and rainy day punctuated by a predictable bowl of soup and a Tweeted, desperate* SOS to Bob Servant for some advice on the best way to deal with and ongoing domestic crisis/long running upheaval in the cat world. I'm sure that Bob, with 65 years of Dundee based wisdom and alcohol abuse to call upon will not let me down. My faith is in him...up to a point, though his quirky performance during the great cheeseburger wars does provide an unwelcome element of doubt.

*Is there any kind of SOS other than a desperate one? probably not, relaxed or laid back SOSing doesn't really happen so I've clearly wasted a word there but I think you get my meaning. Nice to add in a lengthy , extraneous and pretty pointless footnote now and again thereby making a lazy post look substantially deeper than it actually is. Proper writers, media types, politicians and Wikipedia people do this all the time. The technical term is padding.

Real Up

People liked this photo on Facebook

Oh yes they did, I posted this on Facebook and people liked it so I'm reposting it here wherever this is. It is not a picture of the (other) cat who may be freely peeing somewhere nearby even as you read this. It is Clint, our guardian of the garden on roof patrol.

I didn't intend writing anything today as my head feels full of seasonal gunge, chutney, Campbell's soup potions and reconstituted renegade chicken pieces disguised as leftovers. Added to that there is the slightly disconcerting aroma of stale cat urine here and there, mostly there. Always a hard place to be precise about. For a while I suspected that some cat had peed on my guitar, I cleaned the guitar and now I wonder what else may have been territorially claimed by some aggressive, colonially minded cat with a spare tank of piss to pass around. Then I though that it was simply my imagination and the faint odour of house plants as they pass through their indoor cycle of life. Then I thought it was the ham soup simmering on the heat in the kitchen. Then I stopped thinking.

Cats & chutney

The chutney has emerged from hibernation, yawning and irritable it has returned to the fold for it's final labeling and ultimate consumption after a spell of deep frozen neglect. Good humour, a naming ceremony and resealed freshness will be resumed as soon as possible. In my thinking the emphasis will be on a mango/fruity chutney style of usage whereby tender chicken pieces, odd fresh vegetables and stock are basted in the glorious mixture, cooked to perfection and consumed along with fluffy rice, warm and fragrant oily nan bread and a deeply fragrant dry white wine, possibly from the New World or a nearby supermarket chiller. You could also just scoff it, late at night, by TV flickering and coal fire glare, in bite sized chunks with cheeses and oatcakes using spoons and suchlike.

Meanwhile Clint (the cat) explores roofs and high places, taking in the local climatic variations and intrigues from these odd vantage points. Like most cats he ritually avoids his image being digitally captured and reused for the entertainment of the common people , most times anyway.

Loop that funky keytar

You can loop anything in theory and why not practice on a keytar? Apart from entangling the entire area and the usual hunt for reminders and helpful hints online soon full and full blooded looping was in progress and, naturally, everybody is happy.

The loop station is finished in red gloss, small, compact, bijou with completely incompressible and tiny details on the controls and settings. It also speaks back to any careless operator with a cheeky and strangely disconcerting New York accent. Timing is of course everything, you either have it or you don't and in my case...

Edinburgh daily photo

The Arab revolution comes to Edinburgh making it's point with good natured noisy drums and dancing. In the margins a rag-tag group of unrelated political organisations take the opportunity to distribute their message; "everybody else is to blame for everything", which might be right some of the time but can't be right all of the time. The hot-dog sellers are glad of the extra business so no real losers.

In St Andrew's Square various odd photographs of fish and deep sea life are on display for no obvious reason. Puzzled members of the public try to make sense of it all and ponder over the mysteries of location, context and content. The coffee counter does some extra business...etc.

The watery March sun shines down upon the righteous shoppers, buskers and homeless people who gather to worship whatever spiritual consolation they find in these stony shrines and elegant open spaces. The spotty wardens control the errant traffic as the taxis stray and disobey lanes and lights, just as it should be. The afternoon runs away from us like a shadow so Ali and I retire down to Leith Walk and enjoy a light, unpronounceable snack in Valvona & Crolla away from hustle, bustle, protest and cardboard sea creatures. Then on to watch a Rom-Com at the Vue. Nice day out.

Dancing with Dave Mackay

Legend

Things we like

Strange to say

Slightly more serious than necessary flyer for one of Scotland's premier tourist attractions, it even has one of those cafe things and a shop of some sort. Whatever next?

I found myself (despite not being lost) agreeing with two prize weirdos, Happy Jack McConnell and Grumpy George Galloway: they both think that the Scottish Parliament needs to grow up and beyond it's rigid, unreal and restrained form. Ditch the written speeches, the one day a week attendance and the cuppa tea toon-hall mentality. It's only taken ten years for this simple truth to dawn. Unfortunately that same undynamic mind set means it'll take another ten years to actually come to anything.

Meanwhile back at the stone prefab, too much home made soup eaten far too enthusiastically and with too much gusto. The very floorboards of the metabolism creak as we sway from one side to the other like a ship on a foaming northern sea. Good soup though, no good background TV however and it's the last days of the very last days on R2.

Logs v coal: In a burning fireplace and heated environment which fuel medium provides the most satisfaction and ultimately heat? I don't really know.

Nights fair drawing out

Nice to hear that the UK has frozen Col G's assets, maybe some small beam of light is shining into the darkness. What else will be revealed now that we understand something of Libya's depth of operations and the spiders web of influence and double dealing here?

The sun sinks slowly into the west. Peaceful.

Photo of the week

Scritti Politti

I read somewhere that politics is always a good career choice for men and women of a certain class who probably would not achieve much in the real world. Looking across the main UK parties there is a lot of evidence for this and from time to time it can yield strange results. Cameron and Clegg both look and sound like a couple of used Bentley salesmen hovering and hoping to make a deal, plus a Foreign Secretary, wounded by his own behaviours who cant get stranded Brits out of North Africa. (Clegg has stayed in touch with the rest of the world whilst running the UK from the safety of a Swiss ski holiday chalet. As Libya collapses, he has his Blackberry with him and it’s fully charged up by all accounts). The Chancellor meanwhile seems to have little or no grasp of primary school arithmetic or Standard Grade Economics. He will be, in his own words be, “judged by the figures”. This current parade of arrogance, ignorance and indifference is nothing new, Labour’s crop of full time, battery bred, party members were/are no better. It’s just that the Tory-Boy coalition who grin from the front benches are even more divorced from reality and frankly much easier to dislike. Maybe it will be better once they learn to synch their diaries.

One of the big problems you have to face up to as you get older is the constant stream of younger people (mainly in the media and politics) expressing opinions and wielding power without the benefit of age or experience or, worst of all, a balanced view of the world. When you’ve been on one revolution of the roundabout you’ve seen the scenery once, when you’ve been round it a dozen times you pretty much know where everything is and what it looks like, you might even know what’s coming up next. The trouble is by that time you’ve stopped bothering about the actual ride, you’re a bit dizzy, you’re looking at the other riders thinking how peculiar they look and you realise how uncomfortable the seating is - those pesky upstarts on their first go have no idea that this is going to happen to them. They’re still thinking about the bonus they’ll get when they sell their next Bentley. Thankfully most people younger than me (?) but outside of politics and the media seem pretty sensible, what is it about these areas?

I wonder what the Bentley Boys will do with Colonel Gaddafi’s numerous UK assets, houses, business interests and network of royal and political toady’s? (The FT, Penguin Books, properties in Central London and numerous off-shore accounts administered with UK expertise). They could of course be confiscated, sold and the dictator’s family wealth redistributed back to the poor people of Libya and whatever (hopefully stable) government eventually rises there. That probably wont happen though as a small secret army of lawyers, accountants and international bankers will already be in full contingency mode siphoning and making safe the Libyan funds and maybe one day, as part of the pay-off/squirreling exercise and wider settlements some more Bentleys will be sold on. Money doesn’t talk, it swears.

This weeks winning Lottery numbers are…oops, missed them again. Just to clarify my own position here I do not own a Bentley and I never even been inside one, however I have been on numerous roundabouts, merry go rounds and fairground rides.

Guilty pleasures

The Middle

OK it's one of those Fridays and I'm going nowhere, curry cooked and consumed, kids busy on Facebook, fire roaring and the cats are...around somewhere. So despite numerous other TV choices and better and more worthwhile things that I should be doing I'm sitting here absorbing Sky's comedy hour (or two) and these imports are actually pretty well made (they're obviously American) and despite that funny. I also like the American Office better than the UK version, pity it's not on tonight.

Modern Family

Shine a light

I'm old enough to remember when these guys were cool and dangerous but I've avoided them since about 1973 so I found catching up on them via this film interesting and well... tedious. I wanted to like them, to get back to Beggars Banquet or Let it Bleed but it's just not there for me anymore. The past is a strange and uninhabitable place.

Misty Journey

Over the hills and far away

Trying to collect your thoughts is never easy. They have lives of their own, they travel, they change, they refuse to stay still. This can build frustration for those of us interested in using and developing our thoughts. Their constant movement and delinquency is difficult for us, they are determined to break free from the confines of the mental cages we try to put them in, they are free and relentless. They also get lost, forgotten and ignored. Meanwhile time passes far too quickly and the route back to those thoughts is paved over by other more vigorous and current thoughts. Gone, evaporated into the mist.

Non Euro-person

Today the west of Scotland was in bleak and dreary form, low cloud, drizzle and a heavy, seasonal gloom prevailed. Quite nice really. I was behind the wheel, engine and dashboard of a new Vauxhall Astra Coupe, nice enough, perky and quick. The two problems it comes with are a) a huge rear view mirror that manages to obscure large areas of windscreen b) a driver's seat designed for the average modern Euro-person who I apparently don't resemble in any way, thankfully; my bobbing head hitting the roof continually even in the seat's lowest position. So, is it time to rethink, remodel and redo my body type and fit in again? Not really possible and not really what I'll ever be about.

Driving on the back roads outside the tourist season is nice, no caravans, lost foreigners, cyclists or other traffic bric-a-brac to get in the way, just the mist, cattle, chance agricultural encounters and faded blind summits to contend with.

Atom Heart

So we're discussing what vegetables to grow this year following last year's magnificent potato failure and the great chutney mountain. Maybe it should be based on what we eat the most, like carrots, lettuce or turnips. They all seem quite unattractive in the cold light and dim evenings of February. We thought of bananas and celery and ridiculous things, keeping geese and rabbits and chickens. We eat lots of eggs. I thought about the effortless way the apples grow and the mixed blessings of their mounting fertility and relative uselessness and tendency to turn brown when exposed to sunlight. Then there is our lack of a strong gardening work ethic, time and somewhat sterile green fingered imaginations. Maybe we should just get some cows, learn from their serenity whilst syphoning away the methane and selling the toxic red meat to Iceland.

At least I've got at least three decent riffs up my sleeve and stuck onto the end of my fingers. Blues tone, delay and octave splitting seem to make the difference and set the mood, in no particular order.

Steampunk and pubs

Jekyll & Hyde pub in Edinburgh, nobody out having a fag either.

I spent most of yesterday in the J&H pub in the toon, drinking, eating and talking about music, guitars and politics (well that's all I remember). Mr Reckless's highly enjoyable stag afternoon/evening event being the reason for hanging out there. Nice touch having mystery test tubes shots (15%) behind the bar that you can glug as the good doctor might have done and basic fish and chips for £4.00. The J&H has serious Steampunk potential but somehow falls short of fully realising the decorative and atmospheric dream, needs more of a range of dark beers and bar pumps that work. The Crusties and Goths were absent but a marathon game of Risk was underway, nice eccentric pub behaviour - maybe I don't get out enough. The J&H did make think again about the story and the film(s), the dark sides of the soul and how spooky old Edinburgh must have been.

The smoking ban, much as I almost approve of it for all the normal reasons, means that bar staff BO can be noticeable. We need something to spray into bars to create some kind of appropriate odour, the elaborate, vapourising machine should of course correspond to Steampunk design ideals.

Not a bad cast and a nice movie poster

Quite a disturbing and fascinating photo, I'm not quite sure why that is; Mr Hyde's make up is more reminiscent of the Munsters than proper horror so nothing much there. The marvellous look in the girls eyes is striking however, fearful, haunted and just a little bit excited, and she's pulling away. That's the Mr Hyde effect - from the dark side of the soul.