Monday, February 04, 2013
More pretentious photos
Saturday past was one of those bright, still and frozen days that used to make up most of winter, typically crisp and almost exhilerating. Those were the old days before endless grey, overcast skies, biting rain and the Coalition Government. Petrol was 74p a gallon, we smoked hot fags, ate square sausage and music was some live and alive thing that it can no longer ever quite be. Anyway as I carried out some outside chores, hauling logs, harassing badgers and shoveling the river-bed gravel I took the photos displayed above. I then shoved them through a battered Fender Twin Reverb, a Coloursound Cry-Baby and a wonky Fuzz Face. The results are my low-toned homage to forgotten winters, the search for warmth and the cold hardness of our neighbourhood elements. All pretty much pretentious enough for sharing on a Monday.
Sunday, February 03, 2013
We need a lot more logs
The log store has now been safely fastened to the wall and so houses our small but perfectly formed winter fuel exhibit. Clearly we need more rotting, dead timber to complete the piece. |
Reflections in an icy water butt #1. |
Reflections in a watery butt of ice #2. |
Reflections in a buttery ice water #3. |
Watery reflections in an icy butt #4. |
It's hard for me to remember a more memorable weekend than this but that's probably more to do with me and my constant battle with age and biology than the weekend itself. It may also be due to the demon drink, the demon vegetable soup, the demon chicken pie, the demon Lego and last but not least the demon Harry Potter Jelly Bean Collection. We have a lot of demons round here but they'll get their comeuppance one fine day. So on watery reflection it's true to say that sometimes things just conspire against you and sometimes they fall into your lap; all warm, lovely and wet.
Weekend Count:
47 wild birds well and truly fed.
1 butcher conversation.
1 farm shop conversation.
2 sleeps.
7 family members catered for.
1 foot dirty with sticky mud (left).
22 Harry Potter Chocolate toads scoffed.
1 squirrel running across the garden.
1 sock lost.
1 dead tumble drier.
1 stray cat assaulted with slipper (left).
1 MoT expired.
2 glasses of Orangina drunk.
12 text messages sent.
43 potholes dodged.
3 potholes driven into.
1 flat barrow lost in B&Q.
4 eggs, 4 sausages, 2 haggis slices and 6 bits of bacon (rashers) fried.
I could go on...
Friday, February 01, 2013
All is quiet
Cats are highly therapeutic creatures for their human companions with their purring and preening and sleeping and doing not much more. Well every so often they fight or jump around but mostly they are oddly serene - and they pass that serenity onto us...a few cats, a bottle of wine...peace in our time.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Don't drop the Dyson
Modern life (here in the whatever it is) can be seen as a series of encounters with domestic appliances and mechanical and electrical devices. Everyone comes in at a different level on this; the early adopters, the don't care about the details, the use it up wear it out, the avoider, the wrecker and so on. I also see that some families/individuals are prone to equipment failures on a common range of items. For some it will be washing machine failure, kettle burn out, car trouble, phones with rubbish batteries, hard disk failure, irons consuming their own cords etc. Anyway for us it seems to be hoovers, they come, work for a period of time and then give up the ghost, choked by gunge and fluff and that weird cosmic dust that just appears from nowhere but is deadly to any hoover around here. We're in Dyson mode at the moment and despite all the design sophistication and hype it seems to me a fragile and ungainly beast. It does however work quite well.
Yesterday it seemed that it's suction, when applied to imbedded cat hair in a carpet was a little less than desirable. Had one of those dreaded vacuum bowel blockages occurred? I carried the ill machine downstairs for further investigation and possible surgery. It was during the carrying process that I began to realise the nature of the problem. The main dirt compartment parted company with the Dyson's chassis and somersaulted down the stairs. In doing so it created an artistic and complex pattern of dust and debris that covered the staircarpet, wall, windowsill and the downstairs hall. I stood back and admired the stoorie devastation for a few moments and swore colourfully. Then I put the Dyson back together and Dysoned back up all the mess. It works fine and the stair is clean but I know I'm never more than a mbar (suction measure) from the next episode. What's worse, stuck in a loop or trapped in a vacuum?
Anyway if you like "What if?" as opposed to "WFT?" questions this a useful slight diversion.
Yesterday it seemed that it's suction, when applied to imbedded cat hair in a carpet was a little less than desirable. Had one of those dreaded vacuum bowel blockages occurred? I carried the ill machine downstairs for further investigation and possible surgery. It was during the carrying process that I began to realise the nature of the problem. The main dirt compartment parted company with the Dyson's chassis and somersaulted down the stairs. In doing so it created an artistic and complex pattern of dust and debris that covered the staircarpet, wall, windowsill and the downstairs hall. I stood back and admired the stoorie devastation for a few moments and swore colourfully. Then I put the Dyson back together and Dysoned back up all the mess. It works fine and the stair is clean but I know I'm never more than a mbar (suction measure) from the next episode. What's worse, stuck in a loop or trapped in a vacuum?
Anyway if you like "What if?" as opposed to "WFT?" questions this a useful slight diversion.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Escapes of energy
Well not if this zebra patterned balloon has anything to do with it. It irritates after about five seconds, then you think you see a frog, then you imagine what might be in the balloon making all the fuss, then you stop caring and click elsewhere. This is in fact a good example and summary of all things (well most things) that are web based. I'm still looking at it however and that mysterious energy seems to be trapped in there well and truly.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Other people's lists
Three of my chosen albums; cosmic, twee and pish. Appropriate enough really. |
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Cat Flap Repairs
There's only one way to chase the unwelcome moisture from your malfunctioning electronic cat flap and that of course is to administer a healthy dose of hairdryer heat at full force, preferably late at night when it's raining heavily. This practice may well be above and beyond the manufacturer's instructions and to some extent beyond the laws of physics but what else can you do?
Friday, January 25, 2013
Haggis: The Photo Portrait Collection
There can't be too many haggis portrait photo blogs out here/there on the intertwerp. What's the chances of "Haggis: The Photo Portrait Collection" coming up as a Google search? I may have started something. Hopefully in a few hours I'll have also eaten something. Happy Burns Nicht or whatever you happen to call it.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
In Search of the Aspirated Wh
The search for the justified and fully aspirated Wh goes on. I was rather pleased to hear than linguists and academics all across Scotland were concerned that the use of the aspirated W was diminishing. The situation has been recognised and help is at hand, I think. This tragic failure is taking place today along with the rampant use of the term Burns' Night rather than the totally correct Burns' Nicht. Anyway the expert witness in all this said he would be eating vegetarian haggis and reciting poems, but not necessarily those of of Burns, on Burns' Nicht. At that point he lost all credibility. But, never the less and yes indeed I now feel fully justified and technically approved of by the great and marvellous bodies of Pictish education and science with seats of learning in such places as Glasgow, Aberdeen and Lochgelly. More blethers about the problem, (demonstrating the aspirated W or Wh as some would have it and the associated problems) are to be found here.
Meanwhile I need to brush up on my Wh-hisky, Wh-heasel and Wh-hat the feck is this all about phonetics.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Photographic Odyssey
And so the continuing and almost daily photographic odyssey gains more cosmic momentum with another two reflective pieces from today's less noteworthy and otherwise unnoticed events. The first (above) is simply and economically entitled "Escaped cats stare sadly through a misty window whilst the artist almost drops the camera into the kitchen sink (with new rotation)". As the discerning viewer will detect, a number of tasteful effects have been added in order to provide a little more artistic gravitas to the piece. Below I have included the more accessible and conventional catering based "Cheese, tomato and toast torture." Signed prints are to be made available, I'm doing a limited run of 50 at £300 each. Hurry up with the cash you uncultured swine.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Square Eclipse 2
These worlds are probably very economical in their use of words due to the thinning air and the general serenity.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Chaos: all planned out
The local, chilly view. |
I typed out ten thousand words. All
bright and vivid, hard and poetic, chirpy with meaning and humour,
lyrical and as perfectly crafted out as I could make them. They
flowed and rolled, they turned corners, looped and danced around.
These were sweet moments for me. I lost myself. They swirled and
provoked, everywhere all around. They hurt and bound things tight,
they contradicted and lied. They went deep. They bent the truth and
described the hidden. They were there. It was revelation and I saw
the bright light of understanding. I swear I did. Then I picked those
words out, highlighted them and deleted them all. Just with the touch
of a key and they were all gone. It was a strangely warm, wonderful,
godlike feeling. Now they are no more and though I can't forget them
I just can't remember any of them. I felt that I had to tell somebody
about it. That person must be you.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Annoying Orange
Friday, January 18, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Towel Art
The ancient Japanese art of towel folding and arranging comes to Scotland at long last. Three not so easy pieces by Ali.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Seven for a secret
Tesco: I for one am quite prepared to believe that it's possible to get mixed up between the cows and the horses during a busy day at the abattoir. That's the food chain for you. I also don't understand the apparent outrage at mixing up bovine and equine meats, it happens every day in France and they are far more civilised than we'll ever be. As the vegetarian butcher once said "It all tastes the same to me, I just never swallow any of it".
Tax the poor: Twenty five million pension plans will go up the spout when they double the price of a Lottery ticket to £2 later in the year. Hours or even seconds of pointless amusement strangled for the masses. They'll be turning to religion next. I can't be bothered with the stupid games, quiz panels and rubbish that surrounds a ridiculous raffle with hopeless odds. Having said that the £25 for three numbers has a certain attraction.
Growing old gracefully: The eternal question at these difficult ages, which strategy or role model do you follow?
David Bowie: Geriatric reflections on 80s Berlin. Dressing as a stuffed teddy and looking sour with a Chinese pal. Dull synth dominated songs with mournful lyrics and dense drums. A backing band of anonymous session guys happy to take the money and run. Sense of humour failure (or so it seems).
Mick Jagger: Gangley, wrinkled, cocky blues boy at a fancy dress party in a silly hat. Still shouting rubbish and strutting like you're 21 but not really meaning any of it. No new ideas for material, just reruns of years ago. Worn out riffs and a baffled and battered Keef fronting the ugliest looking band you ever saw.
I'm settling for the Groucho method - whisky, red meat and obscurity.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Reflection
Tuesday: Traditionally not a day for reflection or anything of that sort but I did briefly wonder as I munched a dry sausage roll why January seems to be such a desolate little month? Why we are plunged into this cold and dreich winter experience, lost without the light and colour of December to help us along? Today it's -3C, cold but still not deeply cold. I'm assembling IKEA storage equipment, removing dead mice, recycling, listening for the tinkle of snow, looking out into the dark place that is the garden and reorganising a cupboard - and that's after a normal day's work. Perhaps it's the recognition of the overwhelming threat of the weather turning really bad and all of our local bits of civilisation just breaking down. That's it, January anxiety, along with preparing for the Volvo's MOT.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Life of CGI
Far away.... |
...a bit closer. |
The Life of Pi is a good film (and a good Kindle read no doubt), full of allegory, seascapes, tigers, humour, violence and high quality CGI that will burn out your retinas. In fact it's so trippy and far out that when I came out of the cinema I was convinced that it was still 1971. I had to be talked down from a high branch by a very understanding young social worker who bribed me with a sugar donut and the diluted threat of possible physical or sexual violence. Once down I was restrained by pipe cleaner handcuffs and Ovaltine but I escaped and made my way to Brazil in a Beechcraft Bonanza piloted by Sophia Loren who it turned out had cannibalistic tendencies. When I got there I settled for a quite life on a brood mare ranch spending my time as an honest plastic surgeon and part time Nazi hunter. I also found God and then promptly lost him in the post. Well that's one version of events, then of course there is the truth - which one makes the better story?
Saturday, January 12, 2013
My Favourite Pillbox
My current favourite ex-WW2 concrete artifact is this grand but slightly weather stained (jagged) little pillbox that presently stands guard over the recycling centre at Fyvie in Aberdeenshire.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Toilet doors and windows wide open
Today I stopped off for a coffee and caramel shortbread break at Peggy Scott's whilst headed north on the A90. Nice enough but for some reason they wedge the toilet doors open, both the Ladies and Gents and have all the toilet windows open wide and...it's January. It may be that the odd OAP has a loo stop meltdown in there now and again but quite why they do this beats me. Strange.
Marmite and toast, or on toast to be precise. Strong memories of coming down the morning after, a hangover cure and mouth and digestion reviver, almost magical really...and the longing, rolling after taste. Mmmm.
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