A place to park those random thoughts, stolen images, hidden conversations and incoherent babble from beyond the wall of sleep. Odd bits of music and so-called worldly wisdom may creep in from time to time. Don't expect too much and you won't feel let down.
David Attenborough suggests that we should all go out (as conditions allow) into the woods or countryside and just sit still and watch that world for a bit. Stay relaxed and focused and after 10 minutes or so you will start to see all sorts of wildlife and natural events that will surprise and delight you. I've tried it, he's right. It was mostly noisy passing birds and common cloud shapes I saw, some slugs and simple things like leaves dropping etc. Choosing a good location does help with the overall quality of this exercise, maybe try the Serengeti or Yellowstone next time .
You made be interested to know that as I don't name my screen shot files they are allocated numbers automatically by my laptop (I take screenshots with my phone but that's different so let's not confuse things). I don't take so many and as the file numbering resets back to 1 after 100 my total screenshots at the moment are about 150ish, but this, for the avoidance of any doubt is No.44 in the folder though it's also the 144th shot. 144 is also 12 x 12 but that's a discussion for another day.
You can't beat a good bit of death, although a good bit of life is preferable. David Hockney once said that "the cause of death is birth", well that's about all you might need to know but for greater depth, details and insights on the topic this book is pretty useful. It's a bit of a reference, revelation, guidance and advice book and it's also an easy and at times moving read describing what works and doesn't work so well when a death occurs (and it could be yours) and we must respond and act. So any morbid curiosity you may have about the unseen world of undertakers and funeral protocols is quite natural, understandable and rewarded here. Read on guilt free, equip and prepare yourself for the great unknown and the awkwardly familiar.
Written by Shetland based broadcaster, musician and writer (obviously) Tom Morton, it's an excellent and thought provoking book. There are many insider experiences, tribute examples, practical tips and information sources given that could prove invaluable in times of grief, mourning or for your own future farewell's planning. It also covers Covid related departure issues, being newly published it's therefore up to date and highly relevant.
Interestingly I've gone over a year without reading a book, a situation I blamed on lock-down cabin fever and my 2020 acquired inability to concentrate or focus. A year of not reading an entire book has never occurred before in my adult life but I read this one in a couple of days ... Hallelujah, I'm cured, or could it be the Covid vaccine is working?
The assorted saucy sachets seen in the photograph above are refugees from the sunken fridge, why they were ever put in there nobody knows. Now they are homeless. Spare a thought for them.
Now a happy story of transition:
Last week we broke the blender. Some over enthusiastic smoothie processing caused catastrophic failure of a small but frangible internal part. Once again my cursed but blessed friend Mr eBay came to the rescue as I discovered the part was available for our exact (somewhat vintage) model. £7.50 and two days later it arrived in the familiar Chinese packaging though not direct from China. Thank you UK box-shifters.
After the customary fiddling and swearing the new part was installed and to my surprise it all worked once again. The end result being this green porridge-like smoothie made from kale, mango, kiwi, banana and orange juice. This unplanned recipe was of course the result of an unplanned catastrophic freezer failure; one unlikely to be repaired via Mr eBay's good grace and supply chain either. We just need to stop having catastrophic failures, simple as that.
Here's a tyre that will soon be a drum.
And here's the Discovery, snowed in at Dundee with the V&A behind, looking for all the world as if she was back in Antarctica a hundred of more years ago. A time warp back to some golden age of exploration and tragedy.
I don't mention it much but I do follow and occasionally attend Scottish football matches. I've been to big games in the past but to be honest I really prefer the smaller grounds, the "diddy" teams, the lower leagues etc. Anyway there's none of that right now thanks to the obvious. Covid brand football on TV with no crowds isn't great, it's dull and eerily quiet. It needs to be seen in the flesh, in the cold, in the biting wind, raw and exposed with fans armed only with a hot pie and rather awful cup of coffee. Also standing up if possible, rather than seated, cramped damp and frozen onto plastic wheelie bin lid seats and shouting a heady mixture of nonsense and abuse. Incomprehensible rules, bad refereeing, irritating fellow spectators and a long and winding journey there and back again. Then the remorse following a poor result or the (rare) elation when things go well. What weekends might well have been made for in a better world. Of course today's pretend game is off, frozen pitch. Nae fitba.
Welcome to the seasonally adjusted shrine of happy Snow Buddha. Bow down, genuflect, seek peace and forgiveness and all that sort of nonsense. Do it very soon because tomorrow is the new today. He just might melt away before his work on this troubled earth is over and where will you be then faithful follower?
Disclaimer: Snow Buddha (like many other major religious figures) is actually made out of mashed potato using the same construction techniques as demonstrated in the film "Close encounters of the third kind". We apologize if this revelation has resulted in you suffering from any undue stress or upset. Thank you.
Virginia Creeper captured on a east facing wall just as the winter weather hits home. Oily materials, actual snow, canvas, hemp and mixed media.
Naturally I've been well and truly fooled by this clever ploy even though it may not be a real thing at all. I'm also not sure what the purpose of it might be. More likely it's just that blackbirds like to move and operate on their own and appreciate and value the joy of their own free time without suffering annoying interruptions from other passing blackbirds airing their own disagreeable opinions as they eat. Perhaps we can all learn something from observing those solitary blackbirds.
After the blackbird's third helping of meal worms he silently winked and watched me leave, en-route for the local showgrounds where an empty pavilion has been converted into a Covid vaccination centre. I parked up, wandered through the slush and into the building, then into to a pristine booth where I duly received a dose of Pfizer's best medicine from a young military nurse dressed in combats. Then a fifteen minute wait to ensure all is well and finally joining in on an OAP shuffle parade, straight back to our vehicles and home. So far I've no side effects to report other than my own already well established ongoing internal conflicts. Phew ... safe at last ... almost.
Per the previous post, I was idly indulging in some eBay browsing when I came upon this rather unloved and strangely painted Washburn HB 30. Advertised as being 30 years old, unloved and being "sold for a friend". Not a great looker but I fancied a hollow body guitar. There were a few low bids, all well under the value of the guitar so despite my inner voice's better judgement I bid £2 higher than the previous bit. The auction still had three days to go and I fully expected the guitar to sell for at least £150 more than my bid. Oddly enough there was no more activity and my bid won and I duly received the guitar last week.
The guitar turned out to be decent enough, nice action, no major damage, things working and I was pleased with the purchase. The only problem was the horrid and badly painted gold stripe of the front and a load more gold paint on the back, (which was roughly trying to ape the Washburn head stock design). It all had to go. I stripped the guitar down, taped up all the delicate bits and using a combination of WD40, white spirit and paint remover I began to work on eradicating the gold paint. I had the idea of making an old credit card into a soft scraping tool and with a lot of elbow grease the gold eventually came away without too much damage done to the actual cherry body finish (as below).
Not giving one and not getting one either. Few knew that Lockdown (insert actual number here) plus a floppy Brexit plus seasonal market fluctuations would lead (amongst other things) to a full scale fig shortage. Sure there are dried ones in bags, ready to be punished, debagged and baked in the oven in some loaf or other (that may well be tasty) but there are no actual real, fresh, juicy, ripe figs in this small corner of the inhabited universe.
Mandatory food disclaimer: Three days on the trot I've written about foodstuff. Clearly the old brain is gumming up in some hungry and dietary fixated way. I apologize. Other slightly less food focused material but still with some foodstuff references and questionable content resides here.