Disappointed Visitors

The Homeland of Perpetual Gloom: I'm feeling a bit sorry for the numerous Chinese tourists who turned up in town yesterday. Burdened down with complex looking cameras, rucksacks and portable devices hoping no doubt to get some good shots of the iconic bridges. Alas it was not to be, we were beset by wet blankets and duvets of seasonal coastal fog. The number 43 bus was kept busy returning them to our partly destroyed festive capital, now known as Underbelly Land, where the beers and welcome flow like Bostik. 

Unfortunately the fog, like concrete candy floss, drifting slowly up the river for the past few days has landed us straight into Brig o'Doon territory. A mythical place wrapped up in thick, eternal Scotch mist and ancient mystery that can never be truly found, only stumbled upon by bemused American singing stars with perfect hair. During this difficult and eerie time the pubs, cafes and Co-op have stubbornly remained open thanks to benign spiritual guidance and face mask wearing.

Pursuit of a Dumb Idea

 

Experiments in low level confusion: There once was a dumb idea I was trying to make sense of but I've actually forgotten it now. By analysis I find that spontaneous dumb ideas do work the best but there can be occasions when they don't work out at all. This is all part of the ongoing confusing experience of being human. An idea works one day, doesn't the next. As I reflect on this I see that my little, unsung idea, may have been the best idea I ever had. I just can't quite recall what it was about.

Sometimes we just spontaneously shout "It's pixellating!" at the TV even when it's not pixellating. It makes no difference because why would it? If you or your family have been affected by some pixelation, slight or severe in your reception area, please calm down, or phone the number written in Biro on the back of the second banana in the bunch.

Brave New Morning

New Alert Level: Early morning awareness dawns in the domestic cat community as the outside events of the new day are observed from the relative safety of a warm room and behind thick glass. Bin men at work, hissing buses, dogs being walked clearly against their wishes, LED flashing cyclists and the general public going about their business in  grey drizzle. Hopefully all is well, I was fast asleep at the time so I can't be sure. Somebody did do a rather good job of dropping a can of white paint all over the pavement. Photo taken from a low flying Canberra.  

World's Smallest etc.

Continuing with the tedious theme of not doing things by halves but just doing them by tiny fractions we present the (not really) world's smallest Christmas tree. A little straggly perhaps but it's tinsel powered heart is in the right place.

Nobody in their right mind ever blogs over Christmas. Too many distractions. I can't hear my own thoughts for the over-singing of Christmas tunes. A desperate need to find some soul in tradition. It just won't do. People need to restrain themselves.

The Exploration of Geography

Most of the time I quite like to know where I am and what's around the corner. I think that's a fairly normal position that most people might share, even if you are trapped in some hostile and radical multi-verse, as seems to be the case more and more these days. Thankfully I've managed to avoid this so far despite what may have been a few close calls. Google Maps and google eyes will slouch to the inevitable rescue as reality bites. Often I discover that, somewhat to my disappointment, I'm simply at home in the kitchen in the long shadows of a ring of standing stones.

Search Yourself

Some days you just have to decide to do something.

And now it seems the wolves are running. If this makes no sense at all then that's the whole idea.

Circles of Convenience

Our circle of commerce is slowly shrinking. We're in a wee town, you can walk around easily. I'm not counting the internet options in this as it's less of a circle and more of a pin head. So from our current location we have a lot of service and retail convenience pretty much at our doorstep (this is on turning left, turning right produces a different list): 

Bus Stop - 25m*.

Coffee and Sandwich Shop - 30m.

Police Station -35m.

Chinese Takeaway - 35m.

Laptop Repairers - 40m.

God's HQ - 45m.

Weight Watchers and the Foodbank (?) - 45m.

Craft and Gift Shop - 60m.

Fish and Chip Shop - 70m.

Indian Restaurant - 75m.

Hardware Store - 80m.

Cafe and Bakery - 90m.

Hotel and Pub - 100m.

I'll stop at that. 

*For clarity I'm using the Long Martian Metre as a measure.

Intestinal Maps

The unknown artist once famously said of this piece; "It's just the way that the ancient world wants to do it's work, relax, you must find your own place of peace". 

That powerful statement remains as true today as when it was originally spoken all of three weeks ago on the premises of the local sheep dip micro-brewery when it was being officially opened for business by a local celebrity whose name escapes me. Lies, more damn lies and tittle tattle. 

Then there are the never ending questions about the tiny hairs that detach themselves and travel down the inner canals of the nose and become a source of irritation. And with regard to your sexuality, pronouns and your knowledge of conkers I care not a jot.

Radio Days

 

Some say it's 2021. We have phones, computers, smart TVs, amps, speakers etc. This is how we listen to music however, using the age old tradition of the Pyrex bowl loudspeaker as first invented by the Sumerians back in sometime around 2900 BC. Reception is a bit better and clearer these days but I'm less sure about the overall content.

Home Projects for the Idle Heart

From the depths of the archives it seems (time passes too quickly).

These cats are even more lucky and I've turned now them to monochrome. They are hiding our stash of black paint along with enhanced magic. It's a small paint stash and they don't hide it well but it's a job I suppose. Now I'm headed to the barbers for an update on current affairs. (To be continued).

(Continue). I returned from the barbers, uncut. Though it was a legitimate day of the week it turned out not to be a legitimate barbering day. The service was not available and though I could have gone elsewhere I chose not to. As I entered to our royal palace not for the first time the real cats were pining for food and issuing audible reminders in their plaintive cat tongue. I prefer written communication.

After that we looked at confusing phone pictures or photos, as they might be described. The colour brown was explored and digested followed by vigorous swiping. Angles were then explained and understood. Tall tales are told of improvements and I considered a second coat of black paint for my once grey project. There was a smell of eggs in the air and the sky was furtively cloudy. Some say that's an omen. 

"Greatest Hits" The Flamings and the Grooverings: This didn't ever work for me.

Public Service Announcement

 

As a new day dawns in this pulverized and fractured parallel universe we've found ourselves in, our new leader speaks out for the first time. I for one welcome these feline masters and look forward to a bright if slightly unpredictable future. Please note that cat's frontal lobes are not sufficiently developed to allow them to have any concept of tomorrow, or even the next ten seconds. Life is full of surprises for them. However this does not mean that they cannot provide better vision, empathy and leadership standards than those we have recently experienced.

Slow News Abounds - Only If You Want It.

December Sketched

I feel that this post should begin with "on a day when ..." like some cheap novel, a poor essay or a dull diary entry. I've nothing to add to "on a day when" because why would I? It was just a day, we've experienced them before and for me it was not particularly noteworthy, other than that I took these photos. "On a day when I took these photos", you might say.

But what kind of day was it really? Fat, skinny, sore knees achy, possible bad breath for no obvious reason, hungry, anxious, anxious about being hungry with added bad breath potential, icky weather and a grim attitude, too perky for your own good, optimistic but in a slightly sinister way, too humble for words, unable to avoid disturbed house cats, annoyed by a toenail gripping your inner sock or just simply stuck in a December loop?

Cat's Paint Plinth

 

We're experimenting with the possible idea of a third plinth that we might open up to the general public or indeed anyone even more than general who wishes to display their work at this particular venue. Cash bribes for this high honour will of course be given our full consideration and dumped into the nomination slush fund without fuss. All monies pledged are likely to be accepted.

Hidden in Plain Sight

"Everyone is a hypocrite, you can't live on this planet without being a hypocrite". Paul Watson.

I've nothing against the Christmas season because I'm just as much conditioned by it as anyone else. Resistance seems futile. I realize it makes people happy, mostly business people and small children but also me sometimes. However please consider this; if you put up trees and decorations on or around the 1st of December then you're spending a whole month, one twelfth* of the year "celebrating". No one really knows what they are celebrating either ... various fairy tales.

You're sitting amongst this stuff and absorbing it all, along with a mish-mash of belief systems, at least visually in your own home and garden for over 31 days. It's not your fault, the TV ads seemed to begin in October. There's an imposed imbalance in our lives.

Three months of seasonal marketing stimulation and media conditioning; but is it as bad as watching the 6 o'clock news religiously or getting a daily dose of Facebook all year? Back in the day there were only 12 days of Christmas, it took that long to burn through the Yule Log and bury the dead. 

*English is always a peculiar language, why is there an f in twelfth, what purpose does it serve?

M96

The M96 is not a motorway, it's a motor. If you own that particular motor it's very likely in a motor car. That's how it usually works. Then you join (without any other process, invitation or commitment) this strange, nebulous and slightly unhinged band of brothers (and sisters no doubt). I didn't design the logo or decide on the name. Somebody dreamed this up. Drugs and alcohol may have been involved. So I'm in the band. Oh, and once you're in it can be quite tricky to get out. I blame the peculiar but compelling residual values.

Screen Time

I'm of a primitive generation that still sees TV as some magical thing despite the fact it's now commonplace and with a thousand times better quality than 50 years ago. So I'm quite taken by seeing our YouTube music and chaos channel on the lounge wall. The hits and the plays are really irrelevant, I know nobody cares much, so just having colourful stuff on a big screen with decent sound is reward enough.

The Shapes You're In

A free sachet of Garman Masala 1908 blend.

A bean filled soft body.

Sheba Snacks v Scoobie Snacks v Liki Lix

OLED TVs are better than QLED TVs says a panel of experts.

An artist of all things Geeky.

£7 Mulled Wine in paper cup ... people seem to be lapping it up.

Changing the colours of shadows with new technology.

There's male, there's female and there's unisex when it comes to body butter.

A medium sized font is less likely to offend.

"You can't beat a good fiasco" said the Council.

These are some of the shapes you're in.

Possibly.

The Ascent of Man

Dear 21st century people, do you think you know a lot about art and design? Perhaps a bit more than your parents or grandparents? Things do move on. Here's some detail from the magnificent panel of sixteen lions at Chauvet Cave in France, created by our ancestors more than 30,000 years ago. That puts these pieces of work well outside of any bolted on biblical timeline*. The drawings are not done using rattle cans or Sharpies either. Take a short tour here.

*It's all been said, many times, many ways ... Merry Christmas ...  etc. By my reckoning we've got a fairly good handle on the last couple of hundred years of history. Moving backwards the past becomes increasingly unknown apart from royal families, academics and the lives of churchmen and the like. Common people's histories are more or less unwritten or assumed. They pass through time with little or no record of their deeds. There are dark facts.

Beyond that we hit the realms of dark speculation, interpretation of found objects and scattered artworks, ruins, fables, legends and tales. Then the salvaged translations of religious writings and the stone carvings and cave paintings, some clear, some opaque, some fictional, never fully understood or explained. It's all very easy to find or choose to believe something that fits your views and completely misunderstand it's meaning and context and of course the victors always compose a narrative that suits them. As for actual historians, if you assume that people can actually be known, maybe their work is not in vain.

Where You're Coming From

   Vikings, Celts, Anglo Saxons.

Journey to the Centre of Nowhere

We loaded up the instructional words directly from the Book of the Gatekeeper: 

"All I'll ever ask is the honest answering of these three simple questions."

1. Are you human enough to take a first step through the ever shifting doorways on this incredible journey? 

2. Is it important to you to remain fully dust free or is a modicum of dust on your cuffs or lapels something you can tolerate? 

3. Do you suffer at all from travel or motion sickness if you are restrained by a device of some sort?