A bird calls my name

Well it did, down by the Forth, at least twice, I swear. Then it was gone, the sound stopped and I was left wondering.

Three burgers

CBQ's deck plays Fripp and Eno at the correct speed. Any burger resemblance is purely  coincidental.

It's been a three burger week: one in Glasgow, one in Birmingham and one in Dundee. I ate them all. That's a lot of burgers for me and the demonstration of a whole lack of eating ambition and imagination.  I see a menu and I freeze, I may have some prawns but then I again I may not and eventually I'll slowly descend back to the land of the grey and pink landscape of the innocent burger.

Meanwhile on Sky Atlantic the series Fortitude has arrived, I've started at episode three and am not hooked but I could be; something to fill in Game of Thrones / Fargo and whatever else vacuum, or not as the case may be.

I read again "The Dead" by James Joyce. Now I know for sure I am alive but I am left with questions over the status of those who came before; their clothes, music, dancing and finery. Was it real or imagined?

Just write anything

Syd was always vague when it came to describing his competence as a driver.

Most of the world's problems stem from poor communication and misunderstandings, possibly things misheard also. It's hard to tell because I suffer from these things, on both sides and am therefore culpable and responsible in a vague way.  I suppose vague responsibility doesn't help either, there's a lot of that about. Nobody is quite sure how much because it is all a bit vague. It's good to get away from just blaming things on original sin, the royal family and incurable diseases. Whilst these things have brought a lot of misery to many people they would not have done so had communication been a bit sharper and more accurate. A few added jokes, just to hold attention would have helped. Printing the bible was also a bit of a mistake, that and Das Kapital. Just keeping these things are scary fairy stories, told with gusto but without in depth study as to what they might mean could have saved untold damage being done. Meanwhile history keeps happening all around us and there are so few sensible people around able to understand it, make sense of it or just learn lessons.

Spot the cat

(Cat not called Spot).

Say no

Inspirational words and advice from Werner Herzog.

I was quite surprised when my ancient log-in details were typed in and accepted, not what I expected. Then it was a simple case of navigating through about fifteen screens, each one worded in a slightly deceptive or ambiguous manner once I got there (the final screen) I was faced with the choice of clicking the faded no button or the bright green and vibrant yes button. I then realised I couldn't actually press the no button, the way to say no is to press the great green yes button and so un-yes it. I did and it worked. No more Norton renewal on a dead laptop for me. Come now you viruses, death by stealth and intrigue, pillaging, wanton destruction and poisoner's rain and dagger like stares. I don't care.

Films with ginger cats

                   There's a ginger cat that plays a small supporting role in "Gone Girl".

If I could discover the cure for coughing and administer it to myself I'd be happy. A hacking, persistent cough is the complete destroyer of all joy and there seems to be no known substance that can sort it. "Let it run it's course" they say (whoever they are) but that is the advice and possibly the device of despair. There has to be a cure and I'm willing to try voodoo, back magic or even Vick. Sad to say whisky is not effective and just tends to turn up the rasp factor in the cough department.

Spoiler Alert! No there isn't, we watched the film Gone Girl. I'd give it a few stars; tense at times, entertaining with a few shocks and twists, good couch gripping fodder. The girl in the film is indeed gone but then it all depends what you mean by gone, the cat stays around pretty much all the way.

Cockletrees

Out for remedial walkies today and no hangovers in sight, all still, faintly crisp, the ground dry like perma-frost, steps easy to take but hard to find. The wind was some other place and the light came directly from a huge burning orb at least eight minutes away. What warmth there was was eight minutes past it's best but it turned out alright. We saw a few folks who looked a lot like their dogs and visa-versa, that always happens but they themselves remain unaware. I missed the sunset but I believe that it came around at the usual time and being a purple pink colour was photographed by many and share all across social media. At this point I was ironing shirts and watching Pink Floyd in Pompeii, It's taken me over forty years to get to that place and fifty nine to get to this. 

Day Six of the flu and headaches: This morning we were rudely awoken by a mouse that had taken up residence in a bedside drawer. It had rifled through belongings and eaten sweets, some of which we had eaten before we realised the mouse had gotten there first. Needless to say it has escaped and is still a large. It also ate part of a guitar stand. As I'd accidentally locked one of the cats in the garage overnight I can't hold them fully responsible for this security breach but they will need to focus a little more on their core tasks.

How many black bags of rubbish can you get in the back of a Jeep with only one seat folded down? 10, there, now you know as much as me.

Ha ha ha

Surely the lamest thing ever. KPMG what were/are you thinking? It's a great strap line...no it's not and it'll presumably figure on his tombstone. "That's how I feel about infrastructure". Any client who buys into this has a serious problem.

Drink

Some random incoming Tweet today told me with a reassuring degree of possibly fictitious certainty that a regular glass of whisky has been proven to reduce cold and flu symptoms. There is absolutely no research or decent evidence to back this claim up but I for one am choosing to firmly believe it. Time for a slug of Glenrothes Gold then.

Now it's...

Just to be clear, let's sort out a few things regarding where we are in time.

The magical powers of paracetamol are there to be understood but are difficult to fathom. The small white capsules are swallowed with a splash of water in the hope of killing a headache or calming a fever. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn't, it's just medicine, good or band. But what if there are unknown beneficial side effects and bonuses? Trials are tough, I won't be bothering but my recent bout of irritable flu syndrome and suffering and grumbling and still stumbling onwards to work has taught me one little thing. These everyday meds have overhauled, possibly by accident or cosmic intervention some of the jolly old internal plumbing and all the rusty bits...or so I think. Well even in this winter chill, when it's -5 and the car seats are frozen solid there's more glow and less annoying flow it looks that way. We shall see.

Alternate title

Guilty pleasures: it's probably awful, likely to be terrible and guaranteed to infuriate most of the great British public from the "right on righteous" to the "serious motorist" looking for meaningful reviews and sensible motoring journalism. "Ugh!" they may say but it remains a strangely, funny, stupid, self indulgent, patchy, creepy, idiotic and engaging TV show. Top Gear that is, BBC's bastard child and big earner. Of course if you stray onto the Discovery Channels there's hundreds of similar ridiculous shows that must drive those suffering from terminal sense of humour failure crazy. Yup! Step away from the remote.

Anyway, back to the Golden Rule and good advice from beyond the grave via Bob Hope.

The god of sweet sandwiches

February already? I must have missed a day with this stinking, sweat bursting cold. There probably isn't any god so if that's the case then rather than waste a whole word by applying it to something non existent and discredited then why not apply it to sandwiches thus creating a new defining measure for god and godlike things - the humble sandwich. Savoury is tricky so I'm not going there at present, too many tastes, shapes and variations and I suspect that the topmost of sandwich gods may well dwell in those cloudy, mustard smeared courts above the ether. No, we'll leave it and I'll drone for a few more lines about sweet sandwiches; smaller, more graceful, easier to digest and most importantly crammed with sugar. The true god of sweet sandwiches being: white bread, butter, a decent portion of strawberry jam and (placed squarely in the middle) a round and unbroken, pristine digestive biscuit (from a reputable supplier). There, done, dusted and crunched.

Still on the subject of god, I quite liked Stephen Fry's recent rant about the nature of god. He put it all rather well (even though he can be creepy). The last paragraph being particularly to my liking (just don't get me started on Churchill's wild historically sanitised and surgically removed summing up of Islam). I'm not sure that religious people can ever appreciate eccentric sandwich combinations either.

“It’s perfectly apparent that he (God) is monstrous. Utterly monstrous and deserves no respect whatsoever. The moment you banish him, life becomes simpler, purer, cleaner, more worth living in my opinion.”

All those who wander

Glasgow daily photo and a walk across the rooftops: In town today and up on the top deck of the Lighthouse, I took these unremarkable photos and in the continuing spirit of lazy and vacuous blogging I share them now. I did enjoy being up there in the calm and cold, though the stairs were hard work and I had to pass through an irritating Charles Rennie Mac-shrine and some well meant but clumsy right-on Citypoliticbabble  to get there but it was worth it. Glasgow is dirty, compressed, noisy (with street music, traffic and sirens) and cluttered with debris but also serene, chilly and magnificent.  Lunch at the Wander Cafe was disorganised but pleasant with strong coffee and air whipped cream as we continue to explore the randomly scattered eateries and food shops knowing full well we'll never get around them all. Then home along the crusty old tobacco road where snow threatens but seldom falls. The weather people just don't know what to do with themselves at this time of year. Below: this is the safest route back to earth.

Down by the seaside

(Indeed these are the actual pictures of two views I viewed (as above), there are no photos of the views I missed however). I spent a couple of days in Cornwall. Most of the time it was wet and gloomy, the roads were narrow and the breeze from the English Channel icy as I sped around in a nippy wee hatchback. The real ale was pretty good as was the seafood. Now I'm back home...and that's always best.

I wish you all well

Whilst I certainly wish these obviously sincere folks well in their lives and chosen careers it's pretty hard to look at a photo like this, presented in any context and not think that religious processes and the garb that goes with them (and the ritual, tools and the surroundings) isn't all pretty screwy and (you have to say) it looks like it was all made up by either a lunatic or complete joker. There I've said it. As an alternative here's a likeable alien I made earlier...

Acropolis Now

From the Daily Mash:

"Greeks vote to stop having the shit kicked out of them".

GREEK voters have defied expectation by choosing not to be beaten like cringing dogs for the next five years.

Offered the choice between another half-decade of soaring unemployment and plummeting household incomes or a bit of a change, the Greek electorate has stunned Europe by making the wrong decision.

The ruling New Democracy party is still wondering how its platform of Endless Suffering For Everyone was defeated by Syriza’s competing message of Maybe Not That.

Athens voter Elena Mitropoulos said: “I was going to do the responsible thing and vote for continuing austerity, because I know how important it is not to damage the German economy, but madness overtook me in the polling booth.

“Now we face a future of working hospitals, of recovering industry, of my children not begging for food in the streets. I wish I had not been so rash.”

EU technocrat Denys Finch Hatton said: “There is a very real danger that people across Europe, inspired by the Greeks, will no longer choose to be ruled against their best interests by people they never voted for living in massive wealth hundreds of miles away. Though we hope they will follow the fine example Scotland set and continue to do just that.”

(That's a killer of a final line, let's just hope they carry on and retrieve the Elgin Marbles as part of their healing process).

Blinded by science

A Stirling engine, powered by warm air and temperature difference as opposed to hot air and general indifference.

The famous 3157 12volt auto bulb, never seen one in my life until today. Now I can die happy.

Though I know I should understand I never will understand why there are so many variants and variations in the design and specification of simple, disposable, consumable objects. What is the advantage of having so many different kinds of bulbs and fittings none of which are ever compatible? Well it's a free market and there should be no restraint shown on design and innovation and letting folks have the opportunity to take their own unique goods to that market so that they can see how they do is a basic right and you would think a benefit. So it doesn't matter what I think nor does it matter that my auto-jumble bulb collection will never run out, it will just slowly grow. Thank you Mr Jeep and Mr Volvo.

Food for thought

Peanut butter &

Today was unusual in that I drove three quite different vehicles all of which had automatic transmission, thereby immediately making the left foot lazy and redundant. They were; a 14 Ford Galaxie, an 03 Daewoo and 10 Smart Coupe. Now that I have arrived at the difficult age where (apart from knowing all the songs on Planet Rock playlists) I will quickly forget simple instructions and how to go back to driving a manual (or stick-shift as an American might say). Road testing was mostly carried out on the Alpine like steep hills, tight bends and long fast straights that is the familiar Top Gear favourite piece of high quality tarmac - the super highway connecting Burntisland to Aberdour.  Just put a little Matt Monroe on the stereo, adjust your designer shades and you're away.

The persistence of memory

John Barclay ‏@Johnbarclay1  7m7 minutes ago

@BillWillingham @mickmcavoy I bought this in a paper shop in Anstruther in the 60s

Oh well