And What About Us?

The lovely G sits legs stretched out in front of her in front of the full length cheval mirror in the corner of our bedroom. Fully dressed, she sits with her head cocked to one side, brushing her hair as Jess rubs herself backwards and forwards across the small of her back. Across the room I have head and shoulders deep in the built-in wardrobe as I hunt for a T-shirt and a pair of socks, but pull-back when I realise she's speaking. I've learned after years of tuition that it's better and less painful to pay attention at all times - or at least to appear to. That doesn't mean that I understand all the time of course. I am just a bloke after all.

 I look across at her. 

She reaches one hand out to touch the base of the cheval mirror.

 "You know, if all I had was just this, the pine chest, the craft table, my laptop, I-player and my log (I know she's talking about a table - top driftwood candleholder which I bought her for Christmas, gaining mega brownie points.... ) I'd be quite happy living without anything else."

Jess sits down and looks at her for a moment before looking at me.

I look back and then at G.

"What about us then?"

"Well, ah - em - yes, of course – I mean you and Jess as well."

Jess looks back at me and yawns a wide mouthed catty yawn that ends up looking like a smile. I grin back.

"I should think so too! Eh Jess?"

Jess stands, turns to G and butts her on the bicep before starting to rub herself against her again.


"Ummm - Can I bring the bed along?"


Still rubbing herself against G's back Jess is looking directly at me.


".....and the cat food."

See you later.

Listening to; Eddie Vedder - Without You

The Sunday posts 2012

"Felis Cattus” is your taxonomic nomenclature:
An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature.
Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defenses.
I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.
A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents:
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance;
And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion,
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.
Oh Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display,
Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array;
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.

'Ode to Spot'
by Lt. Cmdr. Data

Photo of Jess by Alistair

I think we're going to need a bigger boat!

Are  there any people in the civilised world who haven't seen the blockbuster "JAWS"?  If you're like me, you're probably pretty sick of it being trotted out at every opportunity by satellite companies. Like ‘James Bond’ movies, it seems there's never a holiday passes without yet another rerun doing the rounds on one station or other.

Having just said that, I found myself quite bemused a few weeks ago as I pressed the record button on it yet again. I've no idea what came over me. Later, I'd meant to delete it, especially since we were getting a bit low on recording space on our digital recorder, but for some reason hadn't got round to that either until looking through the planner with the lovely G for something to watch. I was just about to delete it when the lovely G volunteered that she'd never seen it before. Considering we've been together for 25 years I was pretty amazed that despite all the conversations about movies we've had and all the movies we've watched together that this vital part of her cinematic education was lacking. The reason? She'd always thought it would be too scary.

That was a surprise too, particularly considering some of the films we've been to see over the years. She's always seemed impervious to me but, having been too young to see "JAWS" when released, she later wasn't allowed to watch it on TV as her parents thought it too gory. Somehow that imprint remained firmly fixed in her mind.

Earlier today we were watching a BBC nature documentary called ‘Earth flight’, a beautifully filmed series following migrating birds. In the episode there was a scene showing seabirds scavenging remains from shark kills. That she was watching this at all was a surprise in itself as she's usually too squeamish for reality like that, yet for the first time she seemed comfortable watching sharks or crocodiles successfully capturing their prey. At the end of the programme she further astounded me by suggesting that tonight we should watch "JAWS" although with the proviso that she would snuggle up next to me on the sofa in case she got scared

“JAWS” is a classic cinematic milestone and technologically it was a marvel in its day. I loved it when I first saw it at the cinema. That first time it was scary, exciting, incredible and ground-breaking. Now having spawned generations of similar stories – “Aliens” was famously described as being “JAWS” in space – it seems simple, clichéd and a bit naive. The acting of the main cast is great but some of the lesser characters leave a lot to be desired, especially through repeated viewings. Because of the countless similar films over the years, the scene set up is highly predictable and those teaser ’scary' scenes are clearly signposted by the absence of the shark’s signature music.

Tonight for the second time, I got to experience it for the first time!

With G tucked up against me, an arm around my waist and mine around her shoulders I got to feel every shiver; every fright; every sharp intake of breath. I shared her excitement; through her reaction it was all fresh, all new. I jumped too when that head appeared through the hole in the boat for the umpteenth time of watching. I left my jaded perception behind and was thrilled anew by a great big plastic shark. It was brilliant! And I got cuddled to bits!

What a shame she’s seen Star Wars………

What movie would you want to see again for the first time?

Wordfuse - Motoring edition

Blogger pal dbs over in Canada may have invented the 'wordfuse' as far as I know. He takes two words and 'fuses' them together to give added meaning or comical emphasis when viewing some of the anomalies or absurdities of modern life.

This 'wordfuse' occurred while sitting in the car the other day with The Lovely G. I became aware that the conversation was basically a list of instructions from her to me.

 I now deem her irrevocably to be my 'SatNag'.

But that's just tongue-in-cheek sweetheart - honest!

No - HONEST!

{Backs away slowly tugging forelock...}

Listening to:

Just Like That

Sometimes, so just like that ........


Really..........

The Gift Of Humanity

Burns Cottage Alloway

Tonight across Scotland and the world, people will celebrate the life and work of Robert Burns. Born 5 miles away from where I was born, we grew to adult hood in the same area, knowing many of the same places and tramping much of the same landscape. Many of his poems speak in the language and rythm of the local dialect and make clear connections.  His presence, his memory, is revered there maybe even more than anywhere else. You can walk into a graveyard in Ayr or Mauchline and find the graves of the cronies and characters, the loves and lassies that inhabit his poems - imagine finding the graves of characters from Dickens or Shakespeare: David Copperfield; Oliver Twist; Uriah Heap; Romeo or Juliet. You can with Burns because he wrote about what and who he knew.

I think it was the poet Wallace Stevens who said the open-minded reading of poetry helps you to live your life.  I understand that now; that poetry makes you aware of your own humanity and the humanity of others. That's the gift Robbie Burns makes across the years.

I remember my maternal Grandmother often singing this to me. My Mum also used it to sing and hum small children to sleep.

My Love Is Like A Red, Red Rose

My Love's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O my Love's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare-thee-weel, my only Love!
And fare-thee-weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Love,
Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!

See you later.

Listening to

Keeping it real.

I like the idea of reality TV, really I do. It's very name tells what it should do on the tin doesn't it? Reality should have a huge place on TV, with its potential to communicate, inform, inspire and influence, yet I get royally furious with so many of these programmes which just set themselves up as entertainment when what they are really there for is to hold up people for ridicule as a freak show and pander to the egos of megalomaniac 'celebrities', fame hungry media whores or deluded and misguided, desperate-for-attention idiots. I hate the way panel shows offer 'participation' at a price, manipulate opinion and votes and change some poor 'winners' life so radically and so quickly, having created a public that's desperate not for any winning individual but for just the next serving of more of the same pap and who will never have interest in a winner for more than a few months beyond the end of the series, so desperate have their manipulated tastes become for 'bigger', 'better' and yet 'more' of the same crap. Most of I won't watch.

I don't get this modern need for fame and why it's become so important for so many. I see 'stars' with no discernible talent or point and a media industry totally aimed at promoting and celebrating this lifestyle. So many who only feel happy or validated when flashguns are popping and pictures are on front covers of crap magazines, who have 'achieved' fame yet never worked to get the recognition. Why do so many want this instant fame-on-a-plate. Is so much missing in life for so many? Isn't it cringingly ironic that we allow someone like Cheryl Cole, or Piers Morgan to judge talent? I mean - COME ON PEOPLE........

And yet, now and again there are things which make me feel a bit better about the 'reality' side of TV. Some shows are now drawing back from the freakshow spectacle aspect and are coming to the fore with a more positive spin on some of the challenges which face some less fortunate than most; a programme showing extreme weight loss over an extended period of time, supported by an expert who does genuinely seem to care and a production company focused on the subject and the benefits of working hard to achieve something, not the cheap hit potential of an oh-my-god-look-at-them-I-feel-better-about-myself-now programme. A programme with an agenda that's positive, a view that's measured, balanced and even a bit understated.  A programme that stresses it's a long,hard road but it can be done. About time!

Now too I have even found a talent show that doesn't immediately have all my warning bells going off. A dance competition where judges are industry experts with passion for the art rather than mere self promotion. {and who enjoy and respect each other} Where talent is recognised and there's no gawping for gawpings sake but people who may not have a real gift but who have real passion for the subject and not the fame might still make it in front of the cameras to be treated sensibly, decently and compassionately by all. That even celebrates some of the more eccentric sides of our culture in ameasured way. A competition that takes itself and its candidates more seriously. After three years of shows I think it's getting better too. {If only any prize money was invested in building and growing future potential of winners instead of just as a reward}

Oddly I'm hooked on 'Got to Dance'. OK I'm still not comfortable with programmes giving away life changing amounts of cash but that's my opinion and not everyone needs to share it, but I can watch this show and that's not at the front of my mind. I'm amazed by the talent of some of these people - even some of the kids. I'm enthused by the commitment, the work and effort contestants put in and the pleasure they get from it, the bond they create with their partners and the sheer passion they all have no matter what kind of dance they do. I think it's great to watch.



Any one of these have more talent in a scraping from their fingernail than a boatload of big brother contestants any day of the week.

Let's keep it real.

see you later.

The Sunday Posts 2012

Ozymandias

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

At Last

Etta James 1938 - 2012

What a voice....

If Music Be The Food of Love.....

Late night listening transports me back in time.

 It's 1975 and it's late, but here in my bedroom the schoolboy me is wide awake. The first chords have just struck on what will become a lifelong favourite album as for the seventh, eighth  or twentieth time tonight I'm listening to Mike Oldfield's 'Ommadawn'. I just bought it today and I've spent hours devouring the artwork and every word on its cover. It's an obsessive trait that I'll carry long into my twenties - until the demise of vinyl for the more modern CD, with their loss of artwork and cover design as a communication medium. Oh for the return of the gatefold sleeve!  But like many in the years to come I'll cling to the old ways for a while before I can let vinyl go - partially at least.

 I lie stretched out flat on my single bed, the curtains closed to the smallest glint of light from outside and the turntable on the chest of drawers is turning the disc at the required speed. I have the feed arm up so the record will constantly repeat. It's not a great record player but it's all I'll have for another couple of years yet until I can afford to buy one of my own that will give me the kind of quality sound that albums like this deserve. Now though any money I get is invested on buying vinyl. Albums only - singles are for fools swayed by the rubbish on 'Top Of The Pops'. Real men - and of course I include my fourteen year old self in that category - buy albums.  Real men are interested { and interesting} because we buy artists and albums by our inate understanding of what's mature and meaningful, not led by the pop charts, although any future trawl through my record collection may not quite prove that point. Or not yet at least. My tastes are developing and opinions are largely unformed.

So here I lie, horizontal, connected to heaven by the headphones  {saved for over weeks of self sacrifice and reduced record purchasing} plugged into the record deck and preventing my parents from realising that I'm playing this - like all my albums - at near full volume. This means that I can hear the needle chart its way across the track, adding its own base note. That would be frustrating to the modern me but it's completely normal at the present time so I'm all but oblivious. Still, I yearn in the dark for a better player; more clarity and especially; more volume.

 Maybe I have the album cover lying on my chest, but it's also possible that I 'm doing some air guitar or silently doing some fantasy conducting of the talented Mike { by dint of album ownership I now get to call him that} as I guide him intricately, knowingly and insightfully through the multiple shades of meaning in this piece, showing him that I understand: I get it.

I'm lost inside now, carried by layers deeper and deeper into the sound, hairs rise on my arms and on the back of my neck as if connected to an electric pulse. Each listening has lead me to a new discovery and I'm acutely aware that magic is happening.  In years to come my union with such magic might be heightened by alcohol but now it's pure and unadulterated by beer, the opinions of others or the need to be cool. Tonight is a musical experience that'll both change me and continue like this for the rest of my life - horizontal, at full volume and in the dark - and all the better for it. I'll come to learn that it's great to share but I've somehow already found my ideal way of communing with important albums is solitary Tonights experience will also open the doors to teach myself how to wash away anxiety and think clearly while being soothed by important tracks or albums; something I'll be particularly grateful for in the next angst ridden couple of years.

It's the first album that's done this to me, completely blowing me away and carrying me off into other worlds, other realities. The first time that an artist has shown me there are incredible possibilities out there. I've never heard anything like this before and I'm entranced, enthralled, enthused, amazed and astounded. It's so different to the crappy pop music that's everywhere. Soon there will be others being loved too: Jean-Michel Jarre: Rick Wakeman: Vangelis: Supertramp: The Floyd: The Who and Thin Lizzy amongst others, but for the moment I know nothing but this sublime album which reaches to my core and tugs emotions so far as yet untouched. It's so perfect I want to cry. That's a first for me too.

As a result of tonight, in the next couple of months I'll also become intimate with Oldfield's first two albums: Hergest Ridge and the sensational Tubular Bells but even these wonders won't have the same effect as Ommadawn.

Tonight it's just us here in the dark. Tonight it's doing all the talking and tonight for the first time - I think I might be in love.......

Play on.........

See you later.

If you also fancy another bit of what does you good?