History

History, it's not so tough: Old photos of 1920s Rosyth, a place I'm slightly embarrassed to have lived in whilst I'm strangely proud of having worked (?) or at least spent five years of my life, in the old Naval Dockyard there, 1977 - 82. Now it's all speed bumps, kebab shops, unpleasant house rendering  and badly parked cars. Babcock own much of the dockyard and well, the rest is proper history. When you  look back you realize that nothing much matters.

Idiots guide to...

Road bridges back to Fife: there are two, one for normal vehicles and one for public transport. Left for vehicles, right for public transport.

Being a grandad: the swimming bag is situated on the right somewhere, the dog's lead is situated on the left.

Simple instructions and explanations for simple minds.

Weekend Kitten

This Kylo, he may be upside down, he may be the right way up. He's a kitten in a kitchen in Dundee. He's the kitten of the week and also kitten of the weekend. This irregular award has been awarded but sadly comes with no tangible award other than a word or two here.

Future poltergeist

Once I shuffle off from this mortal coil I'll need a new profession, my current staples won't do and the pension does not reach beyond the grave. Life's tough, death is tougher. I'm intending to apply for the job of poorly paid but mischievously funny and well dressed poltergeist in either a pretentious uptown restaurant, a trendy cafe or some beard waxing type of barber's salon. There will be pots clattering, chairs moving, sinks blocking, tiny tinkles in the bathrooms and the occasional glass smashing. Nothing nasty, just slightly disturbing and peculiar ... messages smeared out on steamy mirrors etc. My imagined training and experiences at Hogwarts and time in the civil service should do me nicely. 

Knobheads

Despite their obvious democratic right (?) to post out fliers I feel slightly insulted to receive a personal  invitation from the Brexit Party to support them in the Euro elections. Why me? Why not the other significant other that lives here? What kind of demographic am I seen as belonging to? These people are a) fascists b) knobheads c) deplorable. I don't want anything to do with this kind of thing. I shall of course be returning their precious scrap of paper, a proper tissue of lies, to them via the nearest Royal Mail postbox, ASAP. I feel sullied and contaminated having their junk in the house.

Hello John

 A new (to me) motor has joined the fleet. It's an anonymous VW saloon, of a type once described by Jeremy Clarkson as "boring". He may have had a point but I don't care.

It's certainly not an Abarth. 

House of cups

Strangely pleased to see/hear that a modern coffee cup made it through all the continuity checks and sneaked into a scene on Game of Thrones episode 4 (Series 8). Possibly a clever piece of product placement as all good conspiracy theorists might say, like the Audi cars in Avengers End Game. Shame it had to be a Starbucks cup and not one from our local Stephens who actually do better coffee. In truth most bought coffee is better than Starbucks but then my judgement is clouded and warped when it comes to the large coffee chains. Kind of breaks the illusion though, I thought Game of Thrones was real and that Starbucks had to be imaginary.

Egg type issues

Today's easy to answer breakfast time question centred around eggs. "Would you/could you eat a duck egg if a duck (not necessarily the duck that laid the egg) happened to be in the same room?" It turns out that some people would indeed do this, I'm not so sure myself. What if it was a male duck with nothing to do with the actual unfertilized egg? 

Would I eat a Big Mac surrounded by a herd of beef cattle? Would I eat a BLT adjacent to a piggery or indeed in a pig sty or just sitting on the wall? Would I drink a milk shake in a milking shed? Would I eat fish and chips whilst paddling in a Victorian style sea water swimming pool (outside in the open air but possibly containing fish or even crabs). I don't even want to think about lamb bhuna. 

People and animals eat other animals all the time and have done so for millions of years. The problem is a complex one and centres on association and connection. Remaining disconnected from the reality of actual "things" (living and breathing animals) and the consequences of actions is a nice comfortable place to be, so we choose to avoid these confrontations with the real world and reset ourselves on a regular basis. It's an easy way out. Just poke a paperclip in your ear to perform it. All that and I just don't fancy duck eggs and in truth I'm wobbly on the whole meat thing now, particularly lamb.

Thankfully we don't eat our trees, we just chop them up and burn them.

Screenshots

Diary of a desktop: Some stats about gay "tolerance" in Europe, three made up Porsche bar-codes, a photo of a pizza that says "you cunt" in chopped peppers, two pictures of Rosyth in the early 20th century, the Cold War Steve Big Issue cover, a photo of the the cover of the book "How to keep your Volkswagen alive", Google Chrome icon, Now TV icon, Spotify icon. There are other things but they didn't appear because they're different kinds of files from the rest, or something like that. 

This has been a brief expose as to the intimate details of my current desktop. These are all liable to change at any time without notice. Thank you. I hope you find this post informative and entertaining.

Meta type view and summary. 

Unreported world

Not today but just the other day, the sun struggled to poke through clouds in the mid-morning something or other. It all happened in a place not too far away. Some dog walkers may also have witnessed the incident. The trees affected seemed OK as it turned out. Why was this not considered a news worthy item by any of the major agencies? 

Official Secrets

Gavin Williamson, a former Defence Minister they say, some Troops and a horse.

I signed the Official Secrets Act, way back in 1976. A time when we had proper secrets, as all old folks say. Of course the politicians then, like now, were dimwitted buffoons. Stuffed full of educated privilege, grey saliva and blinded by career prospects in some grand "office". The constant pressure not to put a foot wrong or say the wrong thing, tow the line and keep good counsel. Today nobody seems to know what the right thing might be, all woefully unsure of it or what form it might take, even it were to land in one's porridge. You can tell that this is a directionless and whispered rant. I'm not bitter and twisted, I'm just fed up with the collapse of the MoD I once knew and worked for and the political climate, the ignorant mismanagement of it all and people like Gavin Williamson (who may well have done nothing wrong apart from being ... ). No point in me saying much more, I might inadvertently reveal some official secret and be forced to resign or even dismissed from my post as Watcher of the Skies. Hold onto what you've got or stupid people might just steal it away.

Drama

Sorry for the picture quality. This three act drama took place in Brighton. I suspect however that it's a fairly regular event up north in the car park at Morrisons in St Andrews. As you chug your coffee and munch on a bun you can hear them pattering across the roof or your car, just there, watching, waiting for the moment to strike. Don't dare open a window.

Climbing up on Falkland Hill

Lunch today up on Falkland Hill or maybe East Lomond, who cares? Nice sunny spots with views across Fife as you might expect. Strangely enough the mobile phone/4G signal up there is great. No idea why this should be the case, technology is (almost) wonderful. 

NQ

Steps down to a watery place or up to a more agreeable and preferably drier one.

Breakwater: Note no broken water to be seen.

"I write to you from a strange time loop that finds me trapped in North Queensferry. I write to you from a strange time loop that finds me trapped in North Queensferry. I write to you from a strange time loop that finds me trapped in North Queensferry. I write to you from a strange time loop that finds me trapped in North Queensferry. I write to you from a strange time loop that finds me trapped in North Queensferry. I write to you from a strange time loop that finds me trapped in North Queensferry. ... BZZT! Send help." (Said nobody ever).

Hierarchy of incompetence

Still life with oil tanker.

For people who don't really know what they're doing I'd advise taking an occasional breath of fresh air whilst getting out and about, out and about, outside. If there's too many outs and abouts then it's about time you got out and sorted out your outs and abouts. For example today (whilst out) I pondered the problems and general pitfalls encountered in ordering and organizing fridge and chilled food storage. This was on both a daily and a rotational basis. It was that kind of day. The air was heavy with thunder and Ninja showers. Still I pressed on. I slowly came to the conclusion that despite being good at other things, fridge management was not one of them. So in my hierarchy of incompetence this figures highly as a failure of sorts. Once I'd mulled this over for a few moments I decided to take some photos of large and quite unrelated objects and forget the fridge problems for the time being.

Still life with bridge.

That awkward 3681st post

Another lost/misplaced/forgotten football.

Whilst going through yet another period of critical self examination I am, as ever partially inspired and guided by other people's song lyrics, quotes from films and the odd literary line (as well as inner voices, demons and so on). Today it's hard to find an applicable line. I rather like the idea of waking up in the morning and not recognising myself in the mirror, scary I suppose, unlikely and it's never happened, yet. There is that odd moment however when you might catch sight of yourself and see some aspect or angle of yourself that looks unfamiliar, like someone else but not quite. Maybe as a turnip head, a wolf or Clark Gable. I'm sure there's a word for it. Once in a while it happens with a photo. Maybe selfie chasers are hungry for this experience but cant quite articulate how it drives them. The quest to see yourself, the need to know yourself. What might that mean or even look like in a modern world? No matter how old or grizzled you get or how beautiful you might be it's never quite there, you cant get there. Travelling but not arriving. Maybe life is best explored in the way that a cat would navigate it's way around a garden, treading carefully but pissing on other people's plants and shrubs as you go, after a few moments of consideration of course.

Monoliths and Sentinels

Sneak preview of a stunning new exhibition featuring only simple items of Apple packaging re-imagined as apple packaging. No Apple packaging was injured during any part of the process, only fully certified Apple wranglers were used. None of this for profit or personal gain. Always nice to be watched over by these benevolent machines and their curated items of origin. Note: not all sentinels are monoliths and not all monoliths are sentinels.

Lost Footballs etc.

Two lost footballs, lost in woodland and pretty much worn out. Rescue not possible.

Devastation in central Fife, trees removed for economic reasons (which is reasonable).

More of that kind of thing.

A bend in the road, timber ready for collection, misty trees: Central Fife yesterday.

Three birthdays and a trip to A and E

So the weekend was a full one and it's Wednesday already and I've hardly had a moment. Somebody had a big birthday and others had regular birthdays. Life was strangely hectic and things flashed past at an incredible speed throwing me into a busy week at work accompanied by the dull anguish of an unexpected head injury. Family, friends and the NHS rallied to my support and it's now a distant if uncomfortable memory. A tale to tell when the right time comes for telling tales. In a the confusion I did assemble a lot of of happy memories and I hope some others did too, life is pretty much a series of unplanned events and unintended consequences rubbing up together in unpredictable ways and things, well they just keep happening. I should say something about Game of Thrones or the weather or the terrible bigger picture but that's for another post, funny how none of this is quite as cathartic as it should be. At least I got my washing done. Love and apologies to all.

A bit late but...

"In France a big old church burned down,

there was gold left in the rubble,

the big boys said they'd build it back up,

as it'll be tax deductible,

...times...times..."