Wisdom

"Naw Jem, I think there's just one kind of folks. Folks." Jean Louise
Finch.
If only we stayed as clever as we were when we were eight-years-old.

More tomorrow...

Espanol

"Where are you off tae?"
"The king of Spain's paying a visit. Comin fur a look?"
"Naw. No me."
"How no?"
"Ach, when ye've seen Juan Carlos ye've seen them aw."

Curiosity

The brave ones

Always ask

Assuage their doubts

In answered

Questions of

Enquiry

Filled with a smile

Tentative

Yet demands

That answer

My honesty

Is tested

Satisfied

And intrigued

Story to tell

Remembered

More tomorrow...

Hip Hip Hooray

More tomorrow...

Man Flu

Apologies for missing yesterday. Here's today's blog.

It’s a weird experience feeling ill. I mean most of me is ok but I feel like spewing most of the time and really tired and a tad dizzy. I’m mixing up my words so much that my spell checker has fallen out with me and has gone home to its wife and weans moaning about how bad an employer I am and I don’t blame it. As I type I’m doing that swallowing thing you do when you don’t want to be sick, trying to coax my body into feeling ok.

Well that didn’t work. Tea and soup just crashed the party backwards through my teeth at 100 miles an hour. Now my head is starting to throb. Very strange. I wonder why we have to feel bedraggled and worn out while we’re ill? I was ok when I woke up, made breakfast, read some Brontë, all feeling dapper. Then round about noon I felt a bit peaky. I picked up my mum form the beautician where she’d been having here eyebrows tortured and went to get some bread and milk and cigarettes and on driving away from the store I announced: “I’m feeling a bit ropey.”

Still, all was ok. I had my soup, sneezed a few times, the odd cough here and there then suddenly whilst watching last Sunday’s Top Gear I felt like I’d contracted cholera. I suppose those small symptoms before were warning signs but I hardly expected an onslaught as swift as this. I can see me retreating to bed as now my muscles are getting that achy way, right into the bone. Aye, that seems like the best plan.

More tomorrow...

Things I miss hearing

Sports socks! Two poun the per, twooo poun the per!

Er yer gas lighters! Two fra poun, two fra poun!

EEEEEEVAAANAYYYYNG CHOAMZ!

Dead Drunk

It’s the fumes

They get you

So they say

I reckon it’s the

Liquid before it.

Flammable

And toxic

So they say

Spins your head and whirls

The stomach and heart

Last fag falls

On duvet

So they say

The smoking did it

Not the pints before

More tomorrow...

Chocolate

"See that gorilla off the Cadbury's advert?"

"Aye, playing Phil Collins?"

"That's the one. I seen him live at Edinburgh Zoo."

"Any good?"

"Nah. Rubbish without Peter Gabriel."

More tomorrow...

Sousse

Tunisia was hot. I lay in the sun, eyes screwed shut, to no avail, your eyelids are just too thin to keep out that intense beaming natural light, and it felt like someone was holding one of these electric fires about a foot from my face, these old fires with electric bars and the fake coal and the shimmering lights to fool you into thinking it’s a real fire, and you can always smell the dust burning on it. That’s how hot it was. And we went inland for more. We had to see those Roman ruins. Columns and mosaics and walls but never a roof. Statues with no heads so tourists could stand behind it and take the corny photograph and think they’re being original. And we dehydrate - scared to re-hydrate because there’s no toilet on this bus and the driver won’t stop. Ruins and then home to try to stop what’s already happened. You can eat as much watermelon and drink as much as you like but you’re gonna feel bad because that one pee behind a cactus, that bursting bladder and that bottle you needed to drink from but couldn’t because the driver won’t stop at any more cacti has taken it’s toll.

So you get back and you make a toga from your sheet and relive the day under the ceiling fan and swear you’ll never dehydrate again. They all want a piece of you these Tunisians. So friendly but they want you to buy.

"Hubble bubble pipe? Camel? Cheaper than Asda!"

They’re on holiday too. Laughing, joking, selling. Too hot to work.

"How much for the girl?"

More tomorrow...

Hawkers

Roses for sale

and cowboy hats

and light up bunny ears.

I came here

because life at home was hard.

Can you imagine?

Can you conceive

how hard life can get

before

roses for sale

and cowboy hats

and light up bunny ears

is better than

the life I once lived?

More tomorrow...

Nearly Icy

A thin cellophane film

floated atop the puddle

frozen in place

till schoolboy’s feet

crunch it

in a foiled attempt

at sliding.

White sparkles

more sticky

than slippery

till a few degrees

a few nights

deeper in to winter

turns it black

and makes walking

either fun

or treacherous.

Depends on

how many times

you’ve been there before.

More tomorrow...

Yesterday's blog a few minutes late.

More journalism from the past.

RAIN soaked Glasgow was host to some Southern sunshine in the form of Hayseed Dixie, an Appalachian Blue Grass outfit who played the Barrowland Ballroom on Monday.

But there’s a catch, Hayseed Dixie don’t just play mountain music, oh no, they rework rock classics then thump them out on their banjos and mandolins creating a sound midway between Spinal Tap and Deliverance.

Lead singer and fiddle player, Barley Scotch explains: “The Lost Highway of Brother Hank Williams and the Highway to Hell: they’re the same damn road!” He preached to the audience before a note was played saying: “Verily, verily I say to ya’ll, there’s four key elements in any good song. Drinking, cheating, killing and Hell.”

It was then they launched into AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ with lead mandolinist, Deacon Dale Reno looking like Keith Richards’ grandfather and sounding like Jimi Hendrix on helium.

It’s not until the boys are several numbers into their set that you notice there’s no drummer.

The rhythm comes from their black and twisted hearts.

Between numbers Barley Scotch became storyteller relaying drunken escapades and the back-story behind some of the music.

He endeared himself to the Glasgow crowd when he revealed that after drinking 29 beers in a bar in Edinburgh, the Reverend Don Wayne was robbed of all his possessions except his banjo.

He said: “I guess them folks in Edinburgh wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Thank the Lord that the good reverend knows what to do with it.

You may have made love to the world’s most beautiful women, dined in the finest restaurants, swam with dolphins and been at one with nature but no-one has really lived until they’ve witnessed a septuagenarian clad in dungarees and an AC/DC baseball cap play a banjo solo.

Bass player Brother Jake Byres may look like a bare knuckle boxer but shows a gentler side than his grim exterior suggests by offering advice to his love-lorn buddies. His words of wisdom include: “Make it so that you come out the winner” but his piece de resistance has been turned into one of the band’s greatest hits.

‘Keepin Your Poop’ includes the lyric: “I’m keeping your poop in a jar / so that when you come back I don’t forget just what you are. / I’m keeping your poop in a jar.”

This is Jake’s sure-fire way of maintaining perspective in a relationship.

For the encore, Barley Scotch led the crowd in a sing-along to The Bangles’ ‘Eternal Flame’ before playing what is mandatory music for inbred yokels, ‘Duelling Banjos’.

It may have been the East end of Glasgow, but with music like this blasting off the stage, it became as Southern as the Stars and Bars, moonshine and General Robert E Lee.

In the words of Hardrock Gunther: “I believe that mountain music’s here to stay.”

More tomorrow... (or rather, later on today...)

Crabs

A wee piece of journalism I wrote a few years ago.

ONCE viewed as an expensive delicacy only to be savoured on special occasions, crab is enjoying a resurgance in popularity thanks to its new status as a superfood.

According to a report by analysts TNS, sales of all types of crab have risen by almost 50%in the past year in the UK.

Stewart Crighton, general manager of the Orkney Fishermen’s Society said: “Undoubtedly crab sales have taken off. Part of the reason is that crab is now being eaten in a lot of different ways. It is being offered as an ingredient and with other seafood such as langoustine and mussels.”

Health conscious customers are recognising that crab meat is low in fat, high in minerals and a good source of iron, potassium, selenium and omega 3.

The shellfish has had exposure from celebrity chefs having appeared on Gordon Ramsay’s the F Word and Rick Stein has included it in his recipe books.

Environmentally conscious consumers opt for crab as a sustainable fish and a viable alternative to consuming breeds of fish from dwindling stocks.

Retailers are meeting the demand for the shellfish with Marks & Spencer introducing Snow Crab Legs priced at £6.99 for 100 grams.

Pisces Fishmongers in Hamilton report that more customers are ordering crab meat due to its exposure on television programmes and magazines.

Brigitte Read from the Sea Fish Industry Authority says: “Crab is now far more available. Previously, you could only get dressed crab or whole crab but now you can get it in lots of different ways that are easier for customers to eat.”

CRAB FACTS

1.5 million tonnes of crab meat is consumed world wide every year.

There has been a 20% increase in the UK catch in the last year.

One third of that catch (around 7000 tonnes) comes from the West coast of Scotland.

Brown crab is the most common edible crab caught in Scotland.

More tomorrow...

More Cardiff

Solitary strolling through Cardiff has done me the world of good. I
had space to think and got my mind back onto my page; my agenda.
Holidaying in clans is great fun but it leaves little room for the individual so I stole some 'me' time. After a long walk I chose a pub for a rest and chose wisely. Apart from the warmth the Queen's Vaults has two of my favourite things. Desperados beer and pinball. The former is the tastiest liquid ever to grace my palate and the latter? Well, pinball is something I adore. It is entirely engaging for the mind and even the physical bumps and bangs are, to me, as relaxing as massage. I'm glad to be here. If I had a book it would be akin to paradise. Ah well, pinball it is.

More tomorrow...

Cardiff

Or Caerdydd (according to a suspicious Welshman beside me) is a town spruced up and scrubbed clean looking beautiful to all visitors. The trouble is, the cleansing agent has deprived the place of any kind of character. Or maybe the rugby emptied the streets?

More tomorrow...

Dave's Choice

There was a few of us there at the bar, swapping pints and so many stories. The barmaid cleaned glasses and eavesdropped, taking in the news. Jim was just back from holiday bringing cheap cigarettes and cheaper vodka. His shining suntan radiated around him, creating an aura of health and wealth.

Dave sipped at his lager, silent, yet part of the noisy whole.

“What’s up Dave?” asked Jim.

“Eh?”

“You’re not sayin’ much.”

“Just listening.”

“Naw ye’re no’. Ye’re miles away. Whit were we talking about?”

“Eh? Your holiday and that. The folk you met from Kirkcaldy.”

“Naw ya tube! That was ages ago. We were talking about the new Coldplay song.”

“Oh? Aye, well, maybe I was daydreaming.”

“Aye we know you were. What were you daydreaming about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ye must know!”

“Eh? Well, I was actually thinking about the dichotomy between the sovereignty of God and free will. Like, is it possible for both concepts to co-exist? How can everything be foreordained and us have the freedom to choose our own paths in life? Or, is it simply the difference between fatalism and providence?”

Dave stopped as he realised that everyone was staring at him.

“Whit? Are you havin’ a laugh?” asked Jim.

Dave paused, gauged the situation and laughed: “Course I am. Pffft! Free will? I was thinkin’ about your wife’s tits!”

The laughter echoed in Dave’s ears as he went back to sipping his pint: “Free will my arse.” He muttered as he winked at Jim.

More tomorrow...

Too Loud

This need to shout
Bewilders me
Bawling at one's friends?
Why? Calm down and chat
You assualt my ears
With your selfish performance
Like a toddler crying for attention,
Learning to talk
Seriously
Shut the hell up
Put in your dummy
And give us all some peace.

More tomorrow...

Lost

Blood pumps, heart throbs

Beads of sweat

Dampen hair and clothes

You pace, same steps

Up and down

Searching here and there

Doors bang, drawers shut

Phone a friend

Ringing out, no help

Eyes rove, thoughts chase

Leather pouch

Cannot have gone far

Cry out, relief

Wallet found

Cards and cash all safe

More tomorrow...

Mountain Top

The top of a mountain is always an event for men. A day out, a world record, some kind of challenge. For birds and sheep it's nothing. They got there looking for food, aimlessly wandered their way to the summit then headed off to the next one oblivious to any achievement. Why do we go up there? It's only half way. A cold, windy, inconvenient place to eat sandwiches and drink tea from a flask. You can't stay up there. No food, no water. But there is satisfaction up there and you get to keep it. Starting out at the bottom and ending in the same spot a change has taken place. "I went up there and now I'm back and it feels good. I saw the top and from there the bottom looks good." Back at the bottom everything is the same except those who went up top, tired, sore, weary, happy, satisfied. "I went up that mountain." "What did you find up there?" "Nothing much. But when I got back down I had memories and a smile."

More tomorrow...

Fresh Fruit

Lime time

Out comes the knife

I avert my eyes

Protecting them from

Wayward juice

That sprays

Into my pint

I enjoy the smell

Of citrus and rind

Freshens me

It’s plugged

Into a beer

Drowning in the foam

Infusing it with

Tangyness

And soon

It lies dried out

Like so many of

The hasty drinkers

Left to rot.

More tomorrow...

Bang Bang Bang

There’s always someone

Hammering somewhere

Nailing wood

Hanging frames

Or just making a noise

But I’ve never met anyone

Who hammers for a living

Not even

Trini Lopez

Yet it never stops

More tomorrow...

Wise Words

"Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us
at midnight very clean. It's perfect when it arrives and it puts
itself in our hands. It hopes we've learned something from yesterday."
John Wayne

More tomorrow...

Cough

Thick lines of stereo flashing fake lights dance before me.

My head feels like it’s someone else’s,

The pain cuts but the thoughts are muffled.

The airholes block and contract and send me into sleepiness.

Weariness rules from a distant throne of smothered senses.

The liquid drips and starts and presents itself, much stronger, after each laboured breath.

Medicate, eliminate, dry up the symptoms and rest.

More tomorrow...

Free writing from quotes

"The world is your oyster but your future's a clam." Paul Weller

I once heard a comedian deconstruct 'the world's your oyster.' He asked: "Have you ever seen an oyster? Once you get the shell open it's basically a giant grey bogey." I laughed as every good British pessimist should.

Does the adage still apply? Well if you get oysters at the right time of year and cook them properly they are absolutely delicious. They go well with Champagne and good company. So does life so it seems to work.

However, eat them out of season and you'll get at best a stomach ache and at worst poisoned. Also could apply to life. I've met a few poisonous people and I've had my fair share of sore tummies.

You can't mention oysters without considering pearls. Shellfish that might produce a precious stone? Still, it seems it's all about luck. Maybe we should say: "The world is your oyster, it might give you something beautiful, it might taste really nice or it might kill you." Hmmm. Doesn't really work that way does it?

I think it's our view of the oyster needs changing. Maybe it was never meant to be the shellfish. Maybe, just maybe it means the magnificent creation you got from the ice-cream van. Delicious vanilla in a wafer shell with a spot of chocolate topped off with shavings of succulent coconut!

The world is a treat so you might as well enjoy it before it melts.

More tomorrow...

Background

There is a street

that’s never silent.

Doorbells chime

and cats meow.

Postmen whistle,

lorries rumble,

TVs clamour.

The only time

You can’t hear its nonsense

is when you shut the window

and go to sleep.

More tomorrow...

Dear Diary

This story came second in a writing competition.

Just click the title to go to the website.

More tomorrow...

Swimming

We stand around in our trunks

Uncomfortable at baring our bodies

Bellys hanging over

Fat arses squeezing into lycra

Nervously we start to chat

About the times when we all swam like dolphins

Please don’t make us prove it

Eventually we get cold

Milling about by the glaring poolside

Goosebumps start appearing

Our scrotums the size of walnuts

Splash! He dives. Big torpedo.

Down the steps gently for some of the others

Front crawl, breast stroke, back stroke

All different yet we’re all swimming

More tomorrow...