Sharing Fun Facts

Once upon a time Facebook was cool: It was all too good to be true really, freely sharing fun facts, silly stories, holiday photos, cute pets, and birthday wishes with friends and family while the Facebook machine callously and coldly harvested all our data, sold it on and then allowed it to be used to influence and control global political outcomes, consumption and appetites. A kind of feast of digital cannibalism that we were eager to take part in. It seems so long ago now.

All we wanted were a few birthday reminders and for people to know the kind of films, music and sports we liked and maybe that we were happy, enjoying a sandwich or at least having a nice day. But we failed to realise that our simple wants, needs and likes were actual commodities as valuable as fossil fuels, gold, human trafficking or a large amount of the correct type of sewage. 

There are hungry markets for everything and, for the average person these days, you're either sold or about to be and you're going to be none the wiser or better off for it. Should you allow it? Someone is always greedily watching you and your precious data, it may well be us. Did you get that* Alexia?

*Finally there's the curse of experiencing Facebook remorse. That hollow, weird feeling of having finally done it, said it or shared it. Have I shared too much? Can I delete it before it's noticed? Is anybody listening? Nobody knows. Nobody cares either.

Hand to Mouth

The reasons why I couldn't bake this home made soda bread are many and varied so I'll not bother listing them here. Instead I'll just enjoy the bread and reflect on the next few weeks more of the Great Scottish Lockdown; not seeing family and friends, working from home and a January and February mostly spent on reflection, mopping up the debris from failed freezers and learning life's cruel lessons. Please note that going stir crazy is not an option.

For one thing I've now learned some baking facts regarding the various white powders you might use. It has come to pass that mostly by trial and error I now know that baking soda, bicarbonate of soda and cream of tartar though similar are not the same. I did not learn this by baking but by purchasing, one of my shakier lifetime skills that I'm now eager to develop, that and listening properly. Those small pieces of key knowledge should see me through until the end of January anyway. After that I'll try to focus on learning something else.

Crisp white snow on frozen fields

1. The Met Office have issued an amber warming that the recent fall of slushy and watery snow has resulted in a highly dangerous amount of "Wintry Scene" Instagram, Facebook and Blog posts. Please take great care when entering this area and try to limit your usage and exposure. You risk being duped into believing that some of your friends as well as random App users actually have perfect lives. Ultimately the weather's own honesty will put paid to this exercise as the cold rains wash the planet clean again. Thank you.

2. Over in sunny Italy the following diagram has been widely circulated amongst the general public. It's being held up as describing the great plan to inject 5G chips and tracers into unwitting humans as part of the Covid vaccination program. Bill Gates is, quite naturally blamed for the entire ruse. The sad truth is that it's a circuit drawing for a guitar "metal tone" boost pedal.

3. It's also been established that our friends (?) in the Luftwaffe were planning to bomb our house back in 1939, even before it was planned or built. How's that for forward thinking?

Know your socks

If you don't already know your socks then you really should start to know your socks. Start by noting nomenclature, design, size, type and manufacturer. This knowledge could, during a period of instability, social breakdown or temporary insanity save your life. You know that knowing this sort of thing makes a shed load of sense. For reference the socks pictured* are "Nordic Socks" in the style of "Ragnar". Size 6 - 11. Other makes and styles are available on request.

For best effect please imagine that this instruction is being bellowed into your left ear by a shrill male voice on an icy cold military parade ground at 6.30 AM.  

*Not all the information displayed is correct and we take no responsibility for any unfortunate consequences following on from your stupidity.

Fergus Sings The Red, White and Blues

I've always had a soft spot for this song and for Deacon Blue, even if they were never really cool. I guess they had integrity but I'm unsure how that might have manifested itself other than in this song. Actually I've never listened to an album of there's all the way through, just singles here and there. But this song seems to me to be valuable stab at expressing some kind of self awareness regards the pitfalls and contradictions that come with being Scots and trying (or at least hoping) to be artsy or soulful or just a little creative. 

There's some baggage here I fear. Scots can do these things quite well, world class even, but the nagging doubts remain and corrode the shaky outcomes and we can so easily self destruct, curl up and hibernate. Our traditional home grown tunes remain tricky to navigate so we embrace and misappropriate all those other peculiar styles that we feel must be better than the tartan bass-line and the shortbread beats.

The truth is Fergus can't sing the blues (though he can certainly try and have fun doing it) and he can't sing Hip-Hop, Ska, Rap, Mid Atlantic Jazz or Thrash Metal either. He lacks the authenticity, he's lived the wrong life. You see poor old Fergus is from a housing estate in Central Scotland and, well, he is and we are a wee bit of a joke when it comes to entertainment and art ... so some may say. Too small, too stupid, too self conscious and much too self aware ... but we still dream of Memphis.

Goals for 2021

 

Where to start with this one? I guess most people's goal for 2021 would be just to get through it, to survive, to be there at the end ready for 2022, still standing. That's a reasonable enough aspiration and if your circumstances are tough then a fair one. In 2021 I'll turn 66, not a bad age to be, but one that comes with some questions, the normal wear and tear and baggage. I'll be an official pensioner then, so how should I behave or conduct myself, how do old age pensioners actually think? The same as everyone else I imagine, apart from the fact that you're a few years, days, minutes closer to the cliff edge that is your own mortality. Don't take risks, eat sensibly, don't break a hip etc. Or, drink, smoke and eat all you like, say what you like and don't give a fuck?

Apart from the continued confusion and human fallibility it's all probably going to be fine. I've garnered enough life experience to know that what I say and most of what I do doesn't really matter, it's already floating off into the cosmos and leading a reasonable little life of it's own. A silent echo of what was and what shall be. So, I'll be content to leave less mess, clear up as I go, try to be kind, try to listen, try not to bite when antagonized and avoid too much alcohol and spicy food ... and love as much as I can when I can. That's a good start.

So is there a difference between "goals" and "own goals"? Yes, own goals hurt a whole lot more and their impact and legacy last a whole lot longer. I know I'll score some own goals in 2021, I just hope that they don't make any real difference. It's scoring real goals that counts. In conclusion, just live your best life. The score you get will reflect that.

Troublesome Moon

From our soon to be released winter collection for 2021, "Troublesome Moon", seen here creating trouble (as the name suggests): Producing bouts of insanity and strange behaviour, provoking werewolves and vampires, turning tides, inspiring bad poetry and art (?), giving people funny ideas, shaping months and time in general, encouraging the exploration of space and nearby planets and lighting up the night. The spooky old moon has a lot to answer for. Available early January from the usual outlets and on-line galleries. Ask for a discount and see where that gets you.

._______________________________________.

P.S. So as the end of 2020 rolls around, what are we to say? The slow end to a deflated year where one bad thing happened after another (there were good things too, I'm sure). That sense of being ground down and then just floating, trapped in lock downs and weird isolation periods in an out of body experience, political fibs and poor excuses, clock watching and then calendar watching. Your soul drifting away in some deep and disturbed Covid dream like a loose balloon, no proper work or purpose for periods of time and a nagging anxiety about nothing that can be easily described. Looking back it's a grey cloud, hanging up in a pallid sky set across specks of lost and dusty time particles, mostly punctuated by hastily arranged, oddly happy picnics and spells of mild delirium. Thanks 2020, it's been interesting to say the least. I'm also still firmly European and I refuse to be crushed.

Stream them on Spotify

Stream us on Spotify, we'll never make any money anyway so what the hell. Despite the scenario above and the pained expression on Bart's face, it's not some kind of punishment, honest.

Spiders on Drugs

 

Some modern/recent history:

Allegedly scientists from NASA gave spiders drugs and recorded and measured the outcome of the exercise by comparing the webs they had spun. I'll leave you to your own conclusions.

A similar study was carried out on a selection of fifth year pupils at Dunfermline High School in 1971, the full results were never published but I understand that Skol lager and water chestnuts did quite well.

The "Spiders on Drugs" came very close to being David Bowie's backing band about the same time. Not sure what became of them.

This is not here

It's that Covid time of year again here in Tier 4 country: To be honest there's a kind of chilly, winter grubbiness hanging about the village, curtains twitch, dustbins overflow and in the distance hounds howl. The street Christmas lights and decorations have an ironic, tired out ring about them, then some bulbs flicker and slowly fade and pop. The shutters are down and the cobbles have the icy blue sheen of slippery wet dolphin backs. Here in the still and baffled never-land between Christmas and New Year, all non-essential shops and businesses are closed, there are ragged queues at take-away cafes and bored visiting city dwellers shuffle by, eyes half open and shielded from the cold by grim, seasonal determination and well planned layers of sports clothing. 

Staying safe and at home, trapped by TV,  might be a better idea. Why get yourself struck down by Covid in a coffee queue just for some fresh air ten strange miles from home? Going out when you needn't for a drink you don't enjoy in a town that's firmly locked up and fashionably ghostly. Ho hum. Of course I'm one of those lost and wandering zombies too, part of a cloud of a crowd, safely social distancing by walking in the middle of the road. All dressed up and nowhere to go and unwilling to stand in line for a tiny flat white in a paper cup, paid for by contactless; how appropriate.  Business as usual I suppose.

By the way nobody wants any 2020 review TV shows, no comedic reflections on Brexit, no "why Barnard Castle became a tourist destination" articles and no lists of the Top Ten items to panic buy and stockpile in 2021. Thanks.

Trains across Norway

A relaxing train journey is good for both the mind and soul: Stuck indoors in Tier 4 lock down? Can't squander what little remaining cash you have in the new year sales? Fed up with virtual log fires and chaotic Russian traffic videos? Why not try train driving (or at least pretending to drive one) across the snowy wastes of Norway from the relative warmth and safety of your own couch? Any port in a storm as they say.

The only god I listen to

 

Back in the day when we shopped, visited cafes and walked freely across the earth, as some might say god intended (also carrying the weight of our own sin on our backs): The still small Dickensian voice of Christmas Present (well yesterday's voice) leads me to an enticing free gift guide. The guide is free but the gifts are expensive and are slowly destroying the planet. Best to stay home making plans for using up your "prepper" stash of tins of chopped tomatoes in the most creative ways possible. The destruction of the planet was previously being carried out by cats but they're currently on a break and the humans have taken over for the time being. I suspect it will not end well for any particular species apart from the cockroaches. Having a pleasantly bemused Boxing Day so far.

Christmas 2020

 

Happy Christmas 2020. Whether you're a good person or you're a Russian Bot, a Republican Bot, and Tory Bot or a Bot who's just plain conflicted about things. Frankly right now I don't care, it's Christmas Day and I'm making the best of it. Take it easy but remember, you don't actually have to take it.

P.S. This is a popular card around these parts, for reasons obvious to us.

And another thing...

Exposed to Normality

I completed this personality test (or something like that) I happened upon via my questionable friend Mr Twitter, the results are pictorially displayed above. I'm exactly half normal and half abnormal, a statement that makes no sense. I guess the numbers pretty much add up to an old git who grew up in arguably more troubled and less affluent times - or maybe not. Anyways it's Christmas eve and there are other things to do, so enough of the reflection and the futile search for self understanding. Have a "normal" Christmas if you can.
 

Window Sharks and a Dog Bakery

Tis' the season to go a bit mental and nobody would blame you or your poor punctuation. A few things in the street nearby; the traditional Christmas Shark is now decorating household windows and bestowing good fortune on observers below, as is the custom. Meanwhile the "Dog Bakery" (an interesting and surreal addition to the selection of local shops), should be opening soon, sadly it wont be in business until that fateful new year known as number 2021 arrives with all it's pratfalls, complications and inevitable disappointments. Right now I'm unsure about how I feel with regard to most things. Life's a gas, possibly an inert one.

 

The Great Conjunction

 

Jupiter meets Saturn and everybody has seen this: However until my dear wife mentioned that this was happening I didn't know anything about it. Straight over my head. Now it's all over the media as the word spreads. Heavenly bodies behaving like heavenly bodies for once in a lifetime, anyway Google think it's worth a mention. So I borrowed their Gif. Oops.

California Dreamin'

 

Old, familiar words on a new wall. None of this will happen any time soon but it's nice to just imagine sometimes. The fourth line doesn't really make any sense either other than to shift blame or push a little poetic power into the statement. Mentioning the Devil in any song always adds a touch of glamour and danger. So any chance of getting back to the garden? Things have always been in some kind of a mess and wistfully and wishfully thinking of somehow going back and starting with a clean sheet is very appealing, just ask any old hippie.

Still droning on

This may seem a bit obtuse: I'm not a bible believer (and I'm ignoring anything to do with Christmas right now for obvious reasons), but that doesn't mean that I don't recognize that there are some profound truths held within it's (corruptly edited and compiled) much misunderstood pages. This little snippet, some time after the famous ark and flood adventure is, in my view, far more significant and insightful than the whole "two by two" and rainbow nonsense. 

I should add, there are some things in life that you can only understand when have traveled a fair distance and find yourself high on a hill and are able to see a long way in at least two clear and opposite directions. This may be the beginning of wisdom but it also may not last very long.

 

Genesis 9 v18 - 24.

v18 The sons of Noah who came out of the ark were Shem, Ham and Japheth. (Ham was the father of Canaan.) v19 These were the three sons of Noah, and from them came the people who were scattered over the whole earth.

v20 Noah, a man of the soil, proceeded to plant a vineyard. v21 When he drank some of its wine, he became drunk and lay uncovered inside his tent. v22 Ham, the father of Canaan, saw his father naked and told his two brothers outside. v23 But Shem and Japheth took a garment and laid it across their shoulders; then they walked in backward and covered their father’s naked body. Their faces were turned the other way so that they would not see their father naked.

v24 When Noah awoke from his wine and found out what his youngest son had done to him, v25 he said,

“Cursed be Canaan!

The lowest of slaves

will he be to his brothers.”

 

Historical footnote: If there ever was a real Noah you can be sure he did not look or dress like this nor did he have a collection of handy and attractive zoo animals paddling around the Middle East in a large wooden boat.

Iceland v Scotland

"Came from the land of the ice and snow etc." Marvelous pic of some unpronounceable, remote Icelandic spot, complete with Northern Lights, shooting stars, fractured ice and wispy snow. Scotland is a pretty decent looker of a place but Iceland is just ... far out. 

Forth Crossings

I see these bridges nearly every day. I can check them out from our sitting room window provided I'm motivated enough to stand up and look out. It may be in a Covid racked Scotland, curled up and angry with it's twisted fate, an oppressed colony of the evil Empire of Westminster and perpetually bewildered, but it's still all pretty good to me. This sanitized but realistic picture was taken from the nearby sea front, which provides a clearer and more satisfying view of the night-scape Forth road crossings. Thank you for your time and patience.