20kg Bag

Fairly Irrelevant Picture.

Just how much is a 20Kg bag of wild bird feed/food these days? I'm estimating that we use about 1Kg a day, pretty much all year round. Wild bird food prices are wild, wild birds are hungry. I think I got a good deal recently at a nearby garden supplier - £18 for 20Kg. That's 90p a Kilo. 

I also enjoyed the strangely remote style of the place, I was met only by a white and ginger cat and made the transaction on the phone and picked up the sack of feed from a bin as if it was some kind of contraband. No physical human contact at all. A business model built on mystery. Other suppliers are available, or so I understand. 

This is a really dull posting but dammit I'm quite proud of my 20Kg bag, even though it's now been decanted into smaller, more handy containers. How long will it actually last then? 

Art of the Scum

Interesting piece of live performance art "performed" by actual flowing water along with added, seasonal scum of an unknown origin. You can't beat a good bit of churning, violent scum. Can you see two lion heads, a Japanese carp, the West Coast of Scotland via Google Earth or a rainstorm over the Balkans?

Our industrial heritage lies tranquil enough, nestled in the foothills of some former glacial devastation. The weekly test of the "Major Incident" alarm system is about to be carried out. Even at this distance the actual content is incomprehensible but in real life it could be summed up as "Run like fuck!"

Walkers must remain calm and careful so as not to disturb the ducks and swans during their tea break (AKA 10:30 Smoko as they are of course well trained maritime creatures and highly professional). Normal duties will resume at 11:00 all being well.

West Lothian Daily Photo

 

Two things viewed from above and one directly from the front. The industrial and commercial past is all around, some titivated and working, some awaiting improvement. Nothing in life is ever really completed, it's all malingering at some sort of a stage where arrival and certainty are vague. A promise may still be kept even if it's forgotten. There may be degradation and ruin or the hope of improvement but even in the dust it hangs onto existence.

Kittens

We're getting three kittens. They actually look a little bit like these somewhat stylized ones. Grey, black and white mixes. We're not going with this choice of names however, that would never do and we wont be dressing them up either or transferring their images onto lighters. It's a low key kind of adoption but they will feature here in the blog-sphere from time to time.

Robots Speak

The assurance of the automatons: I find this kind of information oddly reassuring but still pretty unbelievable. This bunch whilst technically impressive all look like they are gathered in the window of some John Lewis branch for a seasonal sale that's heavily discounted. Things are likely to change however. Anybody who actually believes that the robot nation means us no harm is frankly deluded - and I don't think for a moment that any of the robots (built by fallible people to begin with), either here at the moment or still to come, are deluded either. One fine day they'll be smarter, stronger, quicker and standing right behind us all just waiting for us to get distracted by a cup of coffee or something ... hopefully this'll be around 2040 or so when I'm not around.

The Celestial History of Log Storage

Three days of building a log store from an old pallet and some timber bits and pieces. The old pallet arrived along with four car wheels and tyres I bought on eBay last year, good to up-cycle it. Thankfully I've not sustained any major injuries in the process, no sprains, strains or squashed fingers. That was a relief. I did swear a bit but failed to come up with any new terms. I'm just dog tired, sweaty and dehydrated. It's all age and questionable life style related, so it's my own fault.

The log store turned out OK, it looks reasonable, not too squint, not too unstable. It'll keep the logs dry and I can look upon it lovingly from time to time. On the Winter solstice the pale sun shines through the slats and beats down on the logs, feebly. It's yet to be put to the test on that, same goes for the summer setting(s). Here it is at a quarter full with the logs that lay bagged up in the garage. Now they're wild and free. We call it the Northern Log Store these days. The Southern one is a bit smaller and neglected. End of bulletin.

Minor Revelation

I don't miss not seeing the Wickerman movie. I watched it once and well that was that. Perhaps I should give it a second chance, it's a "cult" film after all, in more ways than one. I do however miss the Wickerman Festival that was once held in the countryside near to Dumfries. Sadly it no longer takes place. On rereading this I've just seen Dumfries as Dumb Fries for the first time. This cannot be unseen. Ever. 

"A large portion of dumb fries with truffle salt and parmesan drizzle please my good man. Also some mayo on the side if you will."

Bread, Moon, Mars.

After some simple retail research I can now reveal that Tesco invented the original breadstick, they may have also invented the original bread. Some of this could have occurred in Italy as food science developed (if the packaging is to be believed). The type of bread they came up with remains unclear, so they say.

Exclusive but inclusive: I've also designed a Moon buggy, it's primarily for use on Mars (never on the Earth or the Moon). You can drive it anywhere except into the ULEZ zone. That's zone-zone isn't it? It's non-compliant: see below.

While we're on the subject of ancient things and other planets, a very old, medieval map of the Martian surface has fallen into my hands and wider sphere of influence. I fully intend to pass it over to the authorities when I get a spare minute. On the illegible flip side it reads: "Red Planet/Dead Planet" for some reason. There are some serious security issues here. It's currently hidden in the Moon buggy's Moon glove box (next to the Moon gloves).

Meanwhile...

G Love

 

History but not as we know it: This is a rare and unlikely photograph of the lady who invented hand warmers and finger adornments. Taken in Vienna in 1798 it show Ms Gertrude Love in her grand Venetian study complete with a pair of her infamous gloves (believed to be prototype models). Ms Love's invention quickly caught on with the bright young things of Europe, the Home Counties and Australia. 

It was said that the cold hands and digits of the great royal houses of Prussia and beyond beat a golden path to the threshold of her business's tradesman's entrance. Inspired by the early works of Wagner she seldom looked back. Before long she was a destitute gin soaked alcoholic living in the streets of post revolution Paris and the rest, as they say, is of course history but not the reliable kind you were taught at school. 

McBoaty McBoatface

 

Here's a version of the original Boaty McBoatface leaving Rosyth and sailing out to sea past the Forth Bridges. The ship itself is named RRS Sir David Attenborough. The name B McB now belongs to one of the robot submersibles that are attached to the mother-ship. I've no idea where the ship is currently headed, I presume it will be doing some kind of valuable research into global warming or something similar, the results of which will be completely ignored by the government of the day - no doubt.

Dreadful Events

Perhaps more disturbing than dreadful. Distortions on the edges of reality. Pictures that make a person uncomfortable for no obvious reason. Having a questioning mindset. Having any mindset at all. Now I'm out on a limb. Being yourself is the greatest challenge an individual faces, particularly these days when there are so many possible versions. I'm maybe wrong there, being "yourself" may always have been one of mankind's biggest problems. Then some people are too much of them selves and just run riot. The me, me, me people; more salads, more sun. We're all exasperating. So there I was just having a quiet little inner ramble to myself...

Thirteen, Maze, Abbey.

Some were seated at unlucky table 13. Free coffee grounds garden fertilizer was dispensed by an invisible machine. I ate a cake made from raspberries. 

Some mazes are just plain immature and incomplete. Not fit for purpose in this day of incessant summer rain. We did not try to solve the puzzle but simply flew a drone over it to map the entire area and then departed.

Dunfermline Abbey: I understand that there are more Scottish Kings and Queens buried here than anywhere else, mainly between the tenth and fourteenth centuries. I am unable to name them all but I've a fair idea, I'm not making a list. Funny how the ancient royal families command a respect and historical significance that our modern one doesn't. 

Dunfermline once was the capital city, on a relatively small scale, maybe size didn't matter so much then. The "Auld Alliance" between Scotland and France was signed here (well in the nearby palace ruins). I'm not sure why that matters to me but it does.

The Final Day of June

It's come around at last, the end of June is upon us. Tomorrow it will be July and who knows? It may well be followed by August. I'm obviously uncomfortable with making any further predictions. From a diary perspective today began with tea, a brief exercise session, a shower and then two boiled eggs and toast.

When the Levee Breaks

It's been raining a lot today, put me in mind of this. There's some kind of remix going on in it. Best heard on headphones. Over and out.

New Phone v Old Laptop

 

I took my new phone out for a photo walk in the garden. Having had an unreliable phone camera for a couple of months I needed to give the new one some exercise. Of course it works exactly the same as the old except that it works, it's new after all. You just point and shoot and hope for the best. I'm sure that's the essence of most photography. Nowadays you don't have to wait weeks to view the blurry and distorted results. Good progress that meant the collapse of camera factories and photo processing all across the world. The old laptop remains the weak link in this fairly basic artistic chain.

I've not said much about Glastonbury this year, still a little peeved at being rejected while politely standing in the virtual ticket queue for hours. Basically there seems to have been some listenable stuff but I'm not too upset to have missed Guns and Roses etc. I'm just not sure what anyone ever saw in them. I liked the Chicks and Lizzo. Eton John was pretty good as expected, the voice has aged like a bottle of Aldi Chardonnay but he still owns some proper bangers. Can't quite believe I was once 15 and carrying around a worn out copy of Tumbleweed Connection at high school in the hope of some sort of barter taking place. Time really does fly.

Happy Potatoes

 

Understanding and appreciating the mental health of your potato crop is not easy. There may signs showing here and there but I'm unsure how to read them. The plants are growing, hopefully with potatoes beneath them. They seem happy but I've not tried talking to them, that would be ridiculous. I'm not at that stage in the relationship either. They're just root vegetables but I hope they can survive the reasonably warm spell we're in and grow.

DAFC - St Pauli

DAFC at home: We got beat last night by FC St Pauli in a football friendly. 0 - 3. Probably wasn't too bad a result but it didn't really matter. The fans were in good form and made it a night to remember for a lot of reasons I'm not going into here. If you need to take political sides in history then I'm on the St Pauli side. Football support in all it's forms is always political simply because it's about people, passion and lifetime issues that can't help but overlap. Everything is complicated. Being a fan is also a release and an expression (and often a heartbreak). You may not get it, just don't look down on us because you think you can.

Stormtrooper

 

Brewdog IPA in a Stormtrooper glass. Mixed media.

A lovely summer's evening.

Meanwhile...

All of the people talk a lot of shit some of the time.

Some of the people talk a lot of shit all of the time.

All of the people believe some of those people some of the time.

Some of the people believe all of those people all of the time.

Because of the compelling nature of numbers...

We're screwed.

Ships in the Night

Well at any time of year it would be night by now but we're in solstice territory here so it's all very still, bright and warm. Two liners leave the Firth of Forth within minutes of each other, I've no care or idea as to where they might be headed. I doubt it'll be the the Sea of Joy, most likely onto the sea of continuous tourism, canteen meals and coach tripping. Ticking off those boxes of desirable European destinations in some desperate attempt to understand why we're all captured and perplexed in this pointless dream version of reality.  

The all white liner on the right chose to play the theme from the manga series Inuyasha, "To Love's End" on it's horn as it departed, according to Google. The music is by Kaora Wada. I'm not sure if it was a mark of respect, hope or despair. This does not normally happen and it certainly was unexpected. To be honest it sounded more like the theme from "Lord of the Rings" to my cloth ears. Either way it makes little sense unless it's a matrix glitch or just an attempt by the universe at leaving me more confused than ever. Maybe the captain was just having a laugh. Anyway the sense of the impending collapse of reality is getting stronger every day. 

Dry Times at Dunfermline High

Once the radioactive rain stopped a strange, stark and desolate dry season came upon us. You could see the moisture evaporate before your own eyes, steam from the pavement cracks, grass recently green now pale and scorched, bushes and shrubs hanging limp and bedraggled. Our new kind of contaminated summer was not to be a comfortable season. There were murmurs and whispers of water shortages, empty lochs and choked rivers. The pressure in the taps had diminished and the water had a strange taste and colour  that made me feel uncomfortable. Bottled water's price soared, we didn't even try to buy any. The crooks were making a fast buck, a last buck as far as I was concerned. We tried to manage our remaining supplies.

One night we looked out across the Forth, the whole of Fife seemed to be ablaze. The tinder dry scrub, the parks, fields and buildings, everything was alight. The heat radiated across and we felt it on our faces and in our lungs. On the water some escaped by small boat or pleasure craft, a few just drifted by downstream, watching the fiery destruction. Now that the road bridges were gone there was no quick way either north or south. Many had headed west but I imagined that would only add to the chaos we'd regularly heard of, over in Glasgow and beyond. 

I tried to get some sleep, do some thinking, decide what to do even. There were few good choices and no likely interventions of outside help. So the time will shortly come for us to set sail, setting out on our boats to who knows where. Before we just stared out of windows, into screens and refrigerators or at each other. We're explorers now. The Great Sea of Joy beckons.