Didn't know they were sisters

Emily Deschanel and Zooey Deschanel are sisters (OK it's not a common name), am I the only person in the world who didn't know this? You can learn a lot about life, celebrity culture, sex and swearing on Twitter it appears. The dynamic trending statistics open and flow like a form of bizarre cyber beach combing. Strange, random, unrelated facts and opinions wash ashore like strands of DNA seaweed, some stay for days, some disappear in seconds, famous, infamous and trending and then gone away, swallowed into the vanishing clicks and pulses of some sparky oblivion. When the people speak everybody listens... but not for too long.

Meanwhile in Florida a tornado gathers and broods over the Space Centre, the end of the world will most likely follow shortly but at least we have a photo to remember.

Unfortunate

Sadly, closer to reality than you'd wish (from the Daily Reckless).

Our polling cards dropped through the letterbox today, apparently we're a part of Linlithgow, fair enough. The flimsy cards are a grim reminder that a number of currently under employed buffoons wish to avoid becoming unemployed buffoons after 5th May. We are now in for a long stretch of strained argument, tired rhetoric and the inevitable blame shifting and finger pointing that makes up modern politics. Of course what this country really needs is a sustainable energy policy, a fair system of housing and urban redevelopment to build social cohesion, a transparent tax system and a good 50p cigar.

From a balloon

Flame on

Over there is the Tay and Dundee, home of jute, jam and Bob Servant.

Close encounters with the M90 (note the balloon's distant shadow).

Yesterday, after all the football stuff we embarked on a balloon journey from Bridge of Earn to Strathmiglo (or at least a field nearby). The thing is that ballooning isn't so precise a form of travel so it's more about the journey that actually getting anywhere. We traveled at about 8mph, reached 3000 feet and then at times skiffed over fences and hedge tops. Along the way I learned a fair bit about balloons in a kind of DIY, make shift, hands on way, you see everybody has to help at both ends of the trip. Going up was good, coming down was a few degrees away from a slow mo crash landing. All in all a pretty fine and easy flying experience.

Neighbours

Lunchtime in the field next door.

The field next door, some drainage problems there.

So far the weekend has been dominated by the twin cultural forces of football and music. The football being Dunfermline v Partick Thistle, Bayside v Glenrothes Juniors and Brazil v Scotland. In a weekend already an hour short that's a lot of football to consume. The music part was an extended eating, drinking and jamming affair involving a select set of Edinburgh musos that took place here last night, excuse me while I entangle and then disentangle the entire area.

Quote of the day from the Census advert: "The census is so vital that you risk a £1000 fine if you fail to take part." OK, don't explain the reasoning just get a nice, straightforward threat in there early. That's the kind to talk and tactics that the people of Scotland really will understand and of course respond to on the 27th.

Compliant inner man

When I saw this sign the ultra compliant inner man in my inner man immediately had to obey. So I stopped and started taking a photograph of it in all it's red and white glory. Then, after some conflict and applied reasoning I chose to disobey the sign and moved on, starting again, or in other words failing to stay stopped. All in a days work for today's modern and uncomplicated man. Some nagging doubt remain however, can't quite put my finger on it...

Night out with added beer

Confushion - drummer out of shot.

Confushion - drummer out of shot

Invisible Helpers - drummer out of shot

Drove to the Voodoo Rooms last night for a Secret CD gig but I was driven home by Ali so I had some beer, nice. On the bill the earthy, bluesy, choppy funk and social commentary of Confushion, the downbeat melancholy of Karen Edwards, the tight band but immature and superficial content of Augustilia and the briny, brainy progressive winkle-picking of the Invisible Helpers. The end result was a neck and neck necktie between those twins forces for Edinburgh's good - the Helpers and the Confushion Brothers, both equally dazzling: 10 points each. Thanks to Jim, Fi and Dave for hosting the night.

Apologies for not photographing ace drummer Sam Barber and the two other acts. I'm lazy and it's not much of a camera.

Shrine of the Sea Monkey

Every so often I get a momentary twinge of nostalgia or an itch or something for those halcyon days when, for a brief moment in time I was both keeper and shepherd to a thriving colony of Sea Monkeys. They lived a modest life on a window sill in an office I once occupied, I kept them there in a kind of guilty secret kind of way.

Now that I think about it they may have been hidden by a venetian blind. Sea monkey reflection only lasts a moment and then, thankfully passes. I know that sea monkey's have some purpose but it's exact nature escapes me. Perhaps they are a source of protein, perhaps not, perhaps they are the salty gods of their tiny world, a world we'll never quite understand or appreciate.

Supermoon

I heard the moon was a Supermoon on Saturday, a big special, once in a long time moon. For a while the clouds hid it and I felt a bit frustrated at not being able to see this fully formed moon. When the clouds cleared about 9.00 PM I did see it, it was a very nice moon, maybe not super though. I hate being picky about these things but...

Echline Daily Photo

Multicultural is a puzzling term. I suppose I think of it as a normalising thing like buying a portion of sushi at a BP petrol station when picking up a copy of Scotland on Sunday (avoiding the Gaelic bit), chatting to the Asian attendant and then getting held up behind a Polish truck that has broken down. It’s not really about religion, politics or skin colour. It’s interaction, tastes and smells, common experiences, making eye contact and reading the signs; then respecting them and obeying them. In order to remain as diverse as possible I ate the sushi at half time during the Celtic/Rangers game and had a Euro-Muller fruit corner at the end. A chip sandwich with brown sauce would’ve been ok but that’s so 1990.

Not what I expected: The whisky capital of the world is at No1 Fife Street, Dufftown, AB55 4AL.

Why do weekend newspapers still carry a weeks worth of TV schedules? Do people actually read these things or treasure them in the paper rack right up until next Sunday. In the future they will not exist, along with petrol stations, high street banks and the Scottish Parliament. Meanwhile Col Gaddafi promises a “long war” in Libya. He’s a despot, a tyrant (who put the rant in tyrant) and possibly a lunatic but unless somebody can take him out he’s probably quite right with his awful prediction. Meanwhile what about some intervention in Zimbabwe, Yemen, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Gaza, Sudan and a dozen other places?

Today’s word - Anticipation. Often better than closure, receipt, conclusion, actualisation or delivery but you wouldn’t want to live your life always in a state of constant anticipation.

Doing it yourself

"The wind blew and the rain came down and beat upon the house, the Sky dish, the garden and the gate and the bolt on the gate did break. After about three months the bloke who lived there got a bit fed up with keeping the gate shut with a brick and actually got up from his lazy ass and fixed the broken gate." Thus spake the Lord (as agreed and verified by the Great Pumpkin). All the poor bloke really needed was an occasional reminder, a Saturday lie-in and a warm scrambled egg roll. Men are such simple creatures.

Meanwhile life with the family cats is proving troublesome. Either by being neurotic and clingy (Clint) or festooned with uncontrollable fur that has a life of it's own (Missy) or getting under your feet (Anna). Then there are the other mysterious and inexplicable behaviours they exhibit. Acting like cats mostly.

Tea can be summed up as ground breaking a scientific experiment today. The science of chutney was the branch being explored. The following formula explains all:

Local chutney + chicken + onion/peppers/misc exotic herbs and spices x 1.5 hours at 180 (2 x rice + oil + salt - time)/(30mins saved) = wholesome/useful/tasty/scientific.

Neurotic, clingy and lovable.

Get yer...

I must be going crazy.

Today's background music designed to try to cover the sometimes tedious background has been from those walnut faced rockin' embarrassments the Stones. First it was Let it Bleed, then Beggars Banquet, then Their Satanic Majesties and finally Get Yer...etc. This 40 year old soundtrack has assisted my Friday evening laundry work and relentless time wasting and contributed to brief periods of unexpected reflection. First of all I don't like the Stones (much) but they seem to hold onto that odd place inside of me where the soundtrack of life plays on in some deranged loop. I'm not sure you can ever choose this, it more or less chooses you because the keys are set in some remote and uncontrolled fashion while you are busy doing other things and I'm now, unwittingly and almost unwillingly revisiting it. It'll all make sense some day and there is no second of all either.

Over the edge

Things to seriously consider worrying about are everywhere, beware: radiation, Japan, rising fuel prices, rising food prices, pension schemes changing and devaluing, trouble in the Middle East, David Cameron, Nick Clegg, George Osborne and the rest of the cabinet, Scottish elections, interest rates, TV meltdown, slow broadband, the clocks changing, things in Africa, cold weather, filling in Ryanair forms on line, bugs and creatures, hippos fighting rhinos, strange noises, strange shadows, gangsters and drug dealers, smells that appear and disappear that seem to come from cats, toothache and old age, earwax, worn out shirts that you loved once, getting through a book, a strange pain in your side, factories, misunderstandings between people, muddy roads, the defence of the realm, airports, faces and number plates pixelated out, road signs, people who think PFI is still a good idea, football results, the Olympic Games, diet, diets, what to buy and what not to buy, dark empty stretches of time that seem to occur now and then, subtitles running behind the visual images on Sky News, planning to do things but never doing them, relearning or unlearning the guitar, frustration, daylight and dusk, fog and road conditions, potholes and broken up surfaces, keeping up, avoiding chocolate, avoiding things to avoid, religious things, political things, mystery containers in the freezer, people talking on News night, redundancy, over capacity, being busy, being quiet, keeping up with things, letting things go, wasps returning, paint flaking, losing a cherished sock, briefs and bulletins, tweets and statuses, change, forever change…whatever that really means.

I’m waiting on the news to end, the news must end, once the news ends I can escape, perhaps, perhaps I can, escape the magnet of the news; and read a book.

Bristol Airport Daily Photo

Back home after an Easy Jet delay scare at Bristol. Nothing worse than your flight being called and then...stalled, for mysterious technical reasons. Eventually we left the air conditioned, bright canteen that is Bristol Airport for the dull but very welcome Edinburgh rain.

Amy Pond Life

More like lack of life as dear Amy has been commercially plasticised along with the Good Doctor. Just remember she's not a toy, she's an action figure from Ebay. Serene in this quick and precise frozen state, jumping with odd angular, hinged movements from the opening Tardis doors to the surface of some strange planet, couch or carpet, wherever the imagination takes. Possibly one near you; eternal life of sorts, orbiting or exploring the timeless universe some days, on others buried at the bottom of the toy chest. A word of caution: at times she may be sticky in places.

Tesco daily photo #4

When you consider the awful situation in Japan and the huge post earthquake problems they currently face most of the moans and gripes we have here are truly trivial, "uneven surfaces" as signed above being a good example you might say. I often wonder how we in the cosy wee UK would cope with major disaster, we are probably a lot less resilient and capable than we might think. The recent snow chaos in December (always chaos here when it snows) being a good example of our poor management of changing or difficult conditions and our low tolerance of inconvenience.

So this brings me to the Tesco sign shown above. It's a classic example of how we fail to fix problems and how we are expected to ignore and accept things here. After a while stop noticing them as they stray from our immediate vision. This sign has been in place at South Queensferry Tesco for over a year. It's purpose is to warn customers of some uneven slabs by the main entrance and that's that, so in a year all that has been done about the slabs is the placing of a hand written sign in a free standing frame. When you consider Tesco's huge profits...obviously a little bit of facilities management, a few bags of sand and some concrete must be a little beyond their means at the moment.

Planet Cookie

Maybe it's not the same as baking from scratch but you do get a decent cookie using a Betty Crocker mix (or box set if want to further legitimise the use of a box of ingredients). There's no way I'll win in today's family bake-out in honour of my granddaughter's third birthday but at least I'm in the competition albeit the actual cookie execution was done by my daughter. It looks like a little planet I think.

News and photos from Japan continues to shock and amaze, awful and incredible scenes.

A little night music, chords and compositions.

Fred Goodwin isn't a banker

Nice smile from Fred, retired banker I believe.

Just in case you missed it Fred Goodwin cannot now be referred to as a banker thanks to a super injunction, so I'll certainly not be describing the great businessman who wrecked RBS and things in general as a banker. Remember, Fred Goodwin is not a banker, Fred Goodwin is not a banker etc. etc.

Help ma Boab

Abu Dhabi Grand Prix apparently - topical piece of reporting from Ali Dhabi.

It's been a long and rainy day punctuated by a predictable bowl of soup and a Tweeted, desperate* SOS to Bob Servant for some advice on the best way to deal with and ongoing domestic crisis/long running upheaval in the cat world. I'm sure that Bob, with 65 years of Dundee based wisdom and alcohol abuse to call upon will not let me down. My faith is in him...up to a point, though his quirky performance during the great cheeseburger wars does provide an unwelcome element of doubt.

*Is there any kind of SOS other than a desperate one? probably not, relaxed or laid back SOSing doesn't really happen so I've clearly wasted a word there but I think you get my meaning. Nice to add in a lengthy , extraneous and pretty pointless footnote now and again thereby making a lazy post look substantially deeper than it actually is. Proper writers, media types, politicians and Wikipedia people do this all the time. The technical term is padding.

Real Up

People liked this photo on Facebook

Oh yes they did, I posted this on Facebook and people liked it so I'm reposting it here wherever this is. It is not a picture of the (other) cat who may be freely peeing somewhere nearby even as you read this. It is Clint, our guardian of the garden on roof patrol.

I didn't intend writing anything today as my head feels full of seasonal gunge, chutney, Campbell's soup potions and reconstituted renegade chicken pieces disguised as leftovers. Added to that there is the slightly disconcerting aroma of stale cat urine here and there, mostly there. Always a hard place to be precise about. For a while I suspected that some cat had peed on my guitar, I cleaned the guitar and now I wonder what else may have been territorially claimed by some aggressive, colonially minded cat with a spare tank of piss to pass around. Then I though that it was simply my imagination and the faint odour of house plants as they pass through their indoor cycle of life. Then I thought it was the ham soup simmering on the heat in the kitchen. Then I stopped thinking.

Cats & chutney

The chutney has emerged from hibernation, yawning and irritable it has returned to the fold for it's final labeling and ultimate consumption after a spell of deep frozen neglect. Good humour, a naming ceremony and resealed freshness will be resumed as soon as possible. In my thinking the emphasis will be on a mango/fruity chutney style of usage whereby tender chicken pieces, odd fresh vegetables and stock are basted in the glorious mixture, cooked to perfection and consumed along with fluffy rice, warm and fragrant oily nan bread and a deeply fragrant dry white wine, possibly from the New World or a nearby supermarket chiller. You could also just scoff it, late at night, by TV flickering and coal fire glare, in bite sized chunks with cheeses and oatcakes using spoons and suchlike.

Meanwhile Clint (the cat) explores roofs and high places, taking in the local climatic variations and intrigues from these odd vantage points. Like most cats he ritually avoids his image being digitally captured and reused for the entertainment of the common people , most times anyway.

Loop that funky keytar

You can loop anything in theory and why not practice on a keytar? Apart from entangling the entire area and the usual hunt for reminders and helpful hints online soon full and full blooded looping was in progress and, naturally, everybody is happy.

The loop station is finished in red gloss, small, compact, bijou with completely incompressible and tiny details on the controls and settings. It also speaks back to any careless operator with a cheeky and strangely disconcerting New York accent. Timing is of course everything, you either have it or you don't and in my case...

Edinburgh daily photo

The Arab revolution comes to Edinburgh making it's point with good natured noisy drums and dancing. In the margins a rag-tag group of unrelated political organisations take the opportunity to distribute their message; "everybody else is to blame for everything", which might be right some of the time but can't be right all of the time. The hot-dog sellers are glad of the extra business so no real losers.

In St Andrew's Square various odd photographs of fish and deep sea life are on display for no obvious reason. Puzzled members of the public try to make sense of it all and ponder over the mysteries of location, context and content. The coffee counter does some extra business...etc.

The watery March sun shines down upon the righteous shoppers, buskers and homeless people who gather to worship whatever spiritual consolation they find in these stony shrines and elegant open spaces. The spotty wardens control the errant traffic as the taxis stray and disobey lanes and lights, just as it should be. The afternoon runs away from us like a shadow so Ali and I retire down to Leith Walk and enjoy a light, unpronounceable snack in Valvona & Crolla away from hustle, bustle, protest and cardboard sea creatures. Then on to watch a Rom-Com at the Vue. Nice day out.

Dancing with Dave Mackay

Legend

Things we like

Strange to say

Slightly more serious than necessary flyer for one of Scotland's premier tourist attractions, it even has one of those cafe things and a shop of some sort. Whatever next?

I found myself (despite not being lost) agreeing with two prize weirdos, Happy Jack McConnell and Grumpy George Galloway: they both think that the Scottish Parliament needs to grow up and beyond it's rigid, unreal and restrained form. Ditch the written speeches, the one day a week attendance and the cuppa tea toon-hall mentality. It's only taken ten years for this simple truth to dawn. Unfortunately that same undynamic mind set means it'll take another ten years to actually come to anything.

Meanwhile back at the stone prefab, too much home made soup eaten far too enthusiastically and with too much gusto. The very floorboards of the metabolism creak as we sway from one side to the other like a ship on a foaming northern sea. Good soup though, no good background TV however and it's the last days of the very last days on R2.

Logs v coal: In a burning fireplace and heated environment which fuel medium provides the most satisfaction and ultimately heat? I don't really know.

Nights fair drawing out

Nice to hear that the UK has frozen Col G's assets, maybe some small beam of light is shining into the darkness. What else will be revealed now that we understand something of Libya's depth of operations and the spiders web of influence and double dealing here?

The sun sinks slowly into the west. Peaceful.

Photo of the week

Scritti Politti

I read somewhere that politics is always a good career choice for men and women of a certain class who probably would not achieve much in the real world. Looking across the main UK parties there is a lot of evidence for this and from time to time it can yield strange results. Cameron and Clegg both look and sound like a couple of used Bentley salesmen hovering and hoping to make a deal, plus a Foreign Secretary, wounded by his own behaviours who cant get stranded Brits out of North Africa. (Clegg has stayed in touch with the rest of the world whilst running the UK from the safety of a Swiss ski holiday chalet. As Libya collapses, he has his Blackberry with him and it’s fully charged up by all accounts). The Chancellor meanwhile seems to have little or no grasp of primary school arithmetic or Standard Grade Economics. He will be, in his own words be, “judged by the figures”. This current parade of arrogance, ignorance and indifference is nothing new, Labour’s crop of full time, battery bred, party members were/are no better. It’s just that the Tory-Boy coalition who grin from the front benches are even more divorced from reality and frankly much easier to dislike. Maybe it will be better once they learn to synch their diaries.

One of the big problems you have to face up to as you get older is the constant stream of younger people (mainly in the media and politics) expressing opinions and wielding power without the benefit of age or experience or, worst of all, a balanced view of the world. When you’ve been on one revolution of the roundabout you’ve seen the scenery once, when you’ve been round it a dozen times you pretty much know where everything is and what it looks like, you might even know what’s coming up next. The trouble is by that time you’ve stopped bothering about the actual ride, you’re a bit dizzy, you’re looking at the other riders thinking how peculiar they look and you realise how uncomfortable the seating is - those pesky upstarts on their first go have no idea that this is going to happen to them. They’re still thinking about the bonus they’ll get when they sell their next Bentley. Thankfully most people younger than me (?) but outside of politics and the media seem pretty sensible, what is it about these areas?

I wonder what the Bentley Boys will do with Colonel Gaddafi’s numerous UK assets, houses, business interests and network of royal and political toady’s? (The FT, Penguin Books, properties in Central London and numerous off-shore accounts administered with UK expertise). They could of course be confiscated, sold and the dictator’s family wealth redistributed back to the poor people of Libya and whatever (hopefully stable) government eventually rises there. That probably wont happen though as a small secret army of lawyers, accountants and international bankers will already be in full contingency mode siphoning and making safe the Libyan funds and maybe one day, as part of the pay-off/squirreling exercise and wider settlements some more Bentleys will be sold on. Money doesn’t talk, it swears.

This weeks winning Lottery numbers are…oops, missed them again. Just to clarify my own position here I do not own a Bentley and I never even been inside one, however I have been on numerous roundabouts, merry go rounds and fairground rides.

Guilty pleasures

The Middle

OK it's one of those Fridays and I'm going nowhere, curry cooked and consumed, kids busy on Facebook, fire roaring and the cats are...around somewhere. So despite numerous other TV choices and better and more worthwhile things that I should be doing I'm sitting here absorbing Sky's comedy hour (or two) and these imports are actually pretty well made (they're obviously American) and despite that funny. I also like the American Office better than the UK version, pity it's not on tonight.

Modern Family

Shine a light

I'm old enough to remember when these guys were cool and dangerous but I've avoided them since about 1973 so I found catching up on them via this film interesting and well... tedious. I wanted to like them, to get back to Beggars Banquet or Let it Bleed but it's just not there for me anymore. The past is a strange and uninhabitable place.

Misty Journey

Over the hills and far away

Trying to collect your thoughts is never easy. They have lives of their own, they travel, they change, they refuse to stay still. This can build frustration for those of us interested in using and developing our thoughts. Their constant movement and delinquency is difficult for us, they are determined to break free from the confines of the mental cages we try to put them in, they are free and relentless. They also get lost, forgotten and ignored. Meanwhile time passes far too quickly and the route back to those thoughts is paved over by other more vigorous and current thoughts. Gone, evaporated into the mist.

Non Euro-person

Today the west of Scotland was in bleak and dreary form, low cloud, drizzle and a heavy, seasonal gloom prevailed. Quite nice really. I was behind the wheel, engine and dashboard of a new Vauxhall Astra Coupe, nice enough, perky and quick. The two problems it comes with are a) a huge rear view mirror that manages to obscure large areas of windscreen b) a driver's seat designed for the average modern Euro-person who I apparently don't resemble in any way, thankfully; my bobbing head hitting the roof continually even in the seat's lowest position. So, is it time to rethink, remodel and redo my body type and fit in again? Not really possible and not really what I'll ever be about.

Driving on the back roads outside the tourist season is nice, no caravans, lost foreigners, cyclists or other traffic bric-a-brac to get in the way, just the mist, cattle, chance agricultural encounters and faded blind summits to contend with.

Atom Heart

So we're discussing what vegetables to grow this year following last year's magnificent potato failure and the great chutney mountain. Maybe it should be based on what we eat the most, like carrots, lettuce or turnips. They all seem quite unattractive in the cold light and dim evenings of February. We thought of bananas and celery and ridiculous things, keeping geese and rabbits and chickens. We eat lots of eggs. I thought about the effortless way the apples grow and the mixed blessings of their mounting fertility and relative uselessness and tendency to turn brown when exposed to sunlight. Then there is our lack of a strong gardening work ethic, time and somewhat sterile green fingered imaginations. Maybe we should just get some cows, learn from their serenity whilst syphoning away the methane and selling the toxic red meat to Iceland.

At least I've got at least three decent riffs up my sleeve and stuck onto the end of my fingers. Blues tone, delay and octave splitting seem to make the difference and set the mood, in no particular order.