Now ... and Then

Photo above by LB, Koln 2025.

As above, farewell for the time being.

P.S. Not this year but in case anybody forgot ...

Pre-Christmas Post

It's that time of year again. I'm of an age where I know fine well that there's not much I can think, write or say about Christmas that hasn't been widely said or shared before so I'll not bother. However I quite like the little piece (above) that the often unjustly cursed and much misunderstood internet has kindly provided for me. Please note that at times the internet has also done or at least facilitated some pretty bad things. Users beware. Happy Pre-Christmas.

Spotlight

Spotlight on Zippy, the cat who gets a little less photographic attention than sister Bungle or brother George. It's not that he's any kind of shrinking violet, it's more down to him being quite elusive and flighty compared to his siblings. He remains under the radar, carrying out his own secret missions and ... he's a better predator than the other two, a proven hunter. That of course comes with a number of other problems.

14 Downloads

So happy to know that my downloads are being scanned by McAfee before they ever dare enter the sanctity of the download folder.

The pre-Christmas malaise is upon me this morning. The feeling that things need doing and that doing needs things but also that my operating system is running in slow motion, in an agreeable way, so much so that I have no intention of jump starting it. I don't want to disturb myself.

Today the weather is also crumbly and rickety with a slight chance of pesky developing later on in the day. 

Fourteen years we were in Madeira according to Google photos and who am I to argue with a machine? It's been brought to my attention that fourteen is also the only correct way to spell 14, never forteen, apparently.

Thanks For 2025

2025: You're actually better listening to or downloading our stuff (or most other's) on Bandcamp, but I quite like the "free" graphic that Apple kindly (?) supplied for the year end. We don't do a ton of business on Apple and as you'd imagine their artist's rates are just about as piss poor as Spotify* - but over time the listener and streaming numbers add up, it's just the money that doesn't at this miserable end of the business. Fat cats and toothless minions everywhere rejoice - but know that for you, a day of reckoning (?) will come.

 *The customary moan of the creator prevails.

Art-Craft-Science

Quasi-religious moments bordering on possible wisdom described by the use of meaningful titles and labels: 

Maybe in no particular order - or is there a natural set of rules that things just follow, do we mistake that for design and purpose? 

Are things happening for understandable reasons or are they only happening by chance? 

Sometimes the answer just drops into your head from out of a clear blue sky. 

And if you fall the universe will provide you with a soft landing.

Here are next week's winning lottery numbers ...

:-------------------------------------------------------------:

John Lewis Advert 2026 - Part 2

 

Another day, another John Lewis bag. Same cat.

South Queensferry Daily Dump

A small thing: A child's scooter parked up in Hawthorn Bank. It's more abandoned than parked really. Somebody in authority should do something or perhaps the owner will come or a member of the public will react and deal with the lost scooter. It seems to have malfunctioned. The rear wheel is either jammed or pretty stiff, not turning freely. Nobody has claimed it so far. It's a broken scooter.

Maybe it's been dumped. The child, the parent, they've had enough of it. So they left it behind, expecting somebody else to notice, to use it or fix it or just dump it for them. They didn't feel responsible. So we'll maybe put some messages or a photo out on socials that there's a kid's scooter sitting on the corner. Been there all day, etc. etc. Everybody checks their socials. Right?

No surprise that nobody has claimed the scooter, or came looking or anything. So I suppose we'll hold onto it for a few days and if nothing else happens we'll dump it ... or actually do the right thing and take it to the proper recycling centre. But that's something we don't have here in SQ. We've got the bottle banks, clothes containers, cardboard bins and stuff. No proper place for this kind of thing though. You have to go into Edinburgh, to Sitehill, ten miles away. 

😒

Winter's Tale

In the dark in the mornings it's hard to find the floor. Pale shadows. the click of door handles. Run the tap. Stick the kettle on. Open a jar and check the milk. Nobody has Ovaltine first thing in the morning. Rain on the windows and wild winds coming and going but still rattling the chimney flue. Ashes in the fire place. Clean it up later and get some more firewood in. They're going to outlaw log burners soon and encourage heat pumps. I'm too far down the road for any of that. The roadway to Hell is paved with good intentions, most of which are just turned over and picked at by the crows.

They don't understand the insultion problems that most Scottish houses have, it's down to the way they were built back then. But understanding a problem before you take action isn't high on the current list of political skills and talents these days. Just do something that sounds about right, that makes a good a sound bite. It'll probably be the first thing that comes into your head or the head of your special advisor who has a degree in Australian flora and fauna. The BBC will run with it. They always do.

Breathing out the old man broke character and moved his thoughts on, "enough of that". Then he whispered something strange to the dancing shadows. He took time. He watched as they slowly disappeared into the wall, or wherever it is that shadows go once they're done. Then he went outside into the dim light and filled the feeders so that the birds might enjoy an early breakfast. There's still a lot of quiet satisfaction to be had out there. A calm sea of silence beats the thunder of a vacuum.
 

Letterboxd

Some choice material that I added: I saw somewhere that there was a thing on line called Letterboxd (without the"e") that was all the rage amongst the bright young things*. It's for fans of cinema and so on. I think by losing the offending"e" they avoid a few awkward "urban" sexual terms that don't fit so well with listing and reviewing films. More of a cinematic themed style of name might have been better. 

Letterboxd is probably no longer so popular now that I've signed up, opened an account and picked as film or two. I created a short list of those that I may have liked at some point in the past. That seems to be the whole point of the site. Know your history and brag about stuff you know. I'm no film buff, I've forgotten most of what I've seen and why I liked what I liked. 

On LB a person can interact with their fellow members but I'm not sure about that. What kind of people would even do that? Facebook for film fans? I'm averse to long, dull conversations about film and cinema anyway - though I might tackle a quick one after a wine or three. If it's a good watch then enjoy it but don't sweat over the details. I'll likely unsubscribe in a few weeks then forget anything ever happened.

*Or older weirdos.

John Lewis Advert 2026

 

 

Did an impromtu photo session yesterday with George the tuxedo cat. Turned out that we got some good material. We'll probably submit it to John Lewis once we are evacuated from the wreckage and debris of 2025. I think we have a strong contender here for the big fat John Lewis Christmas 2026 ad campaign. Things will just snowball for us, no doubt. Not sure what Christmas tune might go best with it. I know that it misses the mark but I've always had a liking for "Christmas Wrapping" by the Waitresses, my favourite bit of seasonal pop-bop.

eBay Treasures

Buried treasure: Always fun to see our stuff turn up on eBay after 20 years of who knows what kind of treatment. This is another one of the "black" promo CDs we sent out to all sorts of people and places - 20 years ago or so. They didn't really further our musical career at all but it was fun at the time. We tried and, after well over a million plays, streams and downloads on numerous platforms we're still here, standing watching the skip fire that's the music industry. Ours is a pretty common experience. I've no regrets, well not many. Messages in bottles do get found eventually.

Points Mean Prizes

Pink Floyd: I've no idea what I'm doing here, there's a number generator they say. Also something else it seems, perhaps I'll do the necessary research, later when I can be bothered. Then you just let them silently harvest your data and it's all over, painless even. Sounds familiar.

There's the promise of slightly tacky prizes and as we all know in this mad world, that seldom amounts to anything - but we can't resist. Then again the Floyd were always about that peculiar sense of loss, futility or disappointment that the faithful liked to bask in and dwell upon. Quietly leaning over the edge of reason looking down at some lyrical illustration of post-modern despair. It's also close to Christmas when things can get a bit binary and shaky.

Most likely the financial controllers just want a few more "customers" to be enticed onto their Spotify playlist to keep the now ancient flame alive. There are many other ways to listen to music. Anyway I don't expect a win but being a complete hypocrite I'd still be happy with a mug, a t-shirt or even a CD box set. There's also about 4.3 million other people in the swill, following along and grabbing a time slot right now so your chances are pretty slim.

Hospitality

Out on the ran-dan on Saturday night in Scotland's oldest, newest and smallest city (explains the dodgy photo above). It followed a hospitality afternoon at East End Park complete with an early Christmas dinner, lots of beer and a pretty poor footballing performance and final result. My internal plumbing had a good work out. I tell myself I'm too old for that sort of thing but strangely I don't seem to be suffering quite the same range of serious side effects as I did as a younger, richer man. After East End we hit the old bars and haunts of the toon, my son's keeping me upright and directed.

I'm not trouble free healthwise, but I've maybe just stopped caring as much. I get tired but I could still stand straight, cope and even string sentences together, late into the sesh at 2am. Must be the result of something new that's possibly included or left out of modern beer recipes. You don't really know what you're drinking or how potent it might be. Could just be down to elongated cosmic rays exposure and a less active imagination that's almost keeping me younger than yesterday. Good late night training for the World Cup TV ordeal that awaits us all.

BLT (as a starting point)

 

Strictly speaking this BLT is an BRT, R being for Rocket which may or may not be actual lettuce. It's certainly got green leaves and is found in the salad aisle but who knows? Is this the greatest sandwich of all time ... not sure. Here are a few other contenders:

Crayfish and rocket. Pret did a good version of this if you're too posh to DIY.

A piece (or a sandwich) on real chips with brown sauce. Once a food staple. Not sure of it's current status, it may have died along with the once ubiquitous chip pan.

Peanut butter and jam - has to be strawberry jam and crunchy peanut butter. Smucker's Goober (which is actually grape) is a good alternative if you can find it.

Pastrami and pickle (NY Deli style), possibly with some slices of American cheese somewhere in there. 

Crisps (any flavour but vinegar) but with a generous amount of mayo added for lubrication. 

Anchovies and mustard in/on toasted bread. Maybe a slice of tomato on top? A bit left field for those of you with more Presbyterian tastes and outlooks, but this can work.

I was going to add fish fingers but I'm exhausted now.

As for the bread it used to be the old Scottish plain loaf that was the best, it was the default, certainly for chips. The plain loaf seems to have been cancelled for health reasons or perhaps it's just another part of Scottish counter culture that has been outlawed by our unseen lords and masters. I can no longer find it in the markets and it's now taken to be obsolete. A strange relic from the past, like scarlet fever or corporal punishment.

These days it's sourdough (white) that's everywhere and I seem to have got myself stuck in that particular and for the mean time fashionable rut. At £2.50 for about seven slices, all full of air bubbles, it's hardly priced as a basic food. It is good bread. In fairness the other, cheaper breads can be pretty grim and tasteless, though rye can be a wee treat if you can get a good loaf. Very dense.

Please note that bread rolls, stotties, English breakfast muffins, brioche buns or whatever you call them are not included in this mild but biased opinion piece because they cannot be considered as the basic and foundational ingredient of a proper sandwich.

Blame Culture

 No one is responsible, no one is to blame.

Some are responsible, some are to blame.

Everyone is responsible, everyone is to blame.

If you don't move you don't notice your chains,

You choose.

Are Google good guys or are they part of the ... 

the problem being that we depend ...

or maybe rely on them ...

There are others we might choose ...

but we go with the easiest ...

maybe not the best ...

anymore ...

The best being ..?

You ask too many questions ...

Different Fire = Different Day

Different fire: No two fires are ever alike or identical, this one is no exception. Looking at the word "different" and I'm having one of those moments when the word just doesn't look right. It seems unable to spell itself, unable to be read and out of sync with the wider world of language where things are correct and recognizable. A terrible mistake and disconnect has taken place inside my head. Is there a name or explanation for this temporary blight which I presume we all suffer from at some point or other? It's a common enough experience, I tell myself. All of these things must pass.

Bad Karma: Many thanks to the person in the white BMW X5 who managed to rub their car body against my car body in the SQ Tesco car park yesterday. You left a huge white mark along the side of my motor and a number of scratches, while not bothering to try to contact me or wait for me coming out of the shop. You certainly made yesterday afternoon special for me. I've come to terms with it by accepting that it was just the universe's way of getting me to clean my dirty car. I spent about two hours buffing out the marks and scratches and then washing the entire vehicle. As for you, BMW X5 driver, I've forgiven you but I'm sure that Karma will get you in some form or another. Take good care out there, you thoughtless piece of ...

W T Actual F

The ultimate guide to rebuilding civilisation arrived in my Insta feed the other day: It's finally available at only £79, that thing you've always promised yourself; the illustrated guide on how to restart our world once it's a) burned to a crisp b) completely flooded c) a bleak radiation wilderness d) temporarily run by Satan while we await the return of Jesus e) being managed by hostile AI bots that we are unable to communicate with or f) invaded by aliens who regard us as farm animals ... I could go on but that's enough of the happy stuff. 

Just imagine the joy on your loved one's face as they open up this at Christmas; actually I can see the appeal, albeit somewhat limited. A book that may come in handy one terrible day, basking there on the kitchen shelf along with Jamie Oliver, 100 Microwave Meals and Mrs Beaton. I imagine the pages will be covered in highlighter ink with yellow stickies peeking out between them. The chapters on "How to make fire", "How to find your keys" and "How to kill and eat a pigeon" will be well marked up and thumbed.

It's pretentiously titled "The Book" so it's really out there to undermine or replace the "Good Book" which I think we all know isn't going to be much help for rebuilding anything unless you want to be ruled by mad kings and priests and struggle under a ton of incomprehensible laws and oppressive guilt, whilst eeking out a grim existence in some desert wilderness awaiting a messiah who will never arrive. A lot of Christians only ever bother with the New Testament at Christmas and Easter, the rest of time it's the full on misery of the Old Testament they swallow so they'll love the idea of that. Ongoing nuclear austerity for God's chosen few. That'll be popular with the Tories and Reform folks too.

I wonder if there's a short, possibly final chapter on how to build an atomic bomb from scratch, just in case your first few efforts at sorting things out on Earth II go a bit doolally and uncivilised. Perhaps that task is already addressed in the "For Idiots" series of books. The other problem is that over 300k copies have already been sold, mostly to Americans who wear red hats and have a healthy supply of guns, so I'd imagine. It's just not going to work.

Actually looking inside via the preview it's all a bit Steampunky, over drawn and odd, just another innocent stab at seasonal fun, promoting insecurity and raking in some cash over Christmas really, like a Temu T-shirt offer or a new kind of LED strip light. It's all a big, silly laugh but I'm still not buying it. If your next door neighbour gets a copy you can always nick it from them come the day, then burn their house down and then eat their warm flesh as per the instructions in Chapter 3.

Various Things

Laser show at the SQ Christmas lights switch on event.

Vintage ad for the old family business - a few steps removed.

There may be trouble ahead ...

Sgt. Pepper Live - Cheap Trick

It's Friday so time to stamp out some more of reality: Watched this a few years ago and then, me being me, forgot all about it. Head's too full. The Disney+ noise (?) about the newish and lukewarm Beatles anthology reminded me,  so I made the connection. This is a great performance of the whole of the Pepper album plus a cheeky bit of Abbey Road, if you are at all inclined to like that sort of thing. Cheap Trick, backing singers, players and the NYC Philharmonic Orchestra. All done up at the Waldorf Astoria (into which I have set foot), clearly not a night out for the plebs. Why bother with this? I've no idea.