Showing posts with label Home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Home. Show all posts
Monday, March 26, 2012
Newbies
On the way home from visiting friends outside Perth yesterday, Mrs Wife, the Jockling and I stopped in Dundee so that I could pick up some new tenants for the Dungroanin' aquarium.
This weekend's additions were three Otocinclus, or Ottos for short, that I have named Optimus, Rodimus and Bumblebee. The photograph above shows Optimus getting straight down to the business of eating brown algae, which was the reason for acquiring them in the first place.
They join an eclectic group that includes seven harlequin rasbora (Quinzel, Cobblepot, Nigma, Bane, Dent, Fries and Joker), three mollies (Laudrup, Gascoigne and Walters) and a guppy (Firestar), as well as five Malaysian trumpet snails (Davis, Gillespie, Armstrong, Flea and Moore).
Laudrup (bottom middle), Gascoigne (upper right) and Walters (upper left) say hello to the camera, while one of the harlequins pops into the frame in the top right.
Friday, September 04, 2009
Home Alone
Thanks to rain of Biblical proprtions yesterday - it was raining heavily when I got up at 6.15am, was still chucking down when I got home at 5.30pm, was absolutely belting down when I went to bed at 10pm and continued through the night - I am stuck at home.
Despite the fact that we're in one of the wettest parts of the world, our rail system can't cope with the water, and all trains are cancelled or severely delayed.
Which means that I'm "working from home" today, which means that I'm working in significantly greater comfort than I'm used to.
For a start, I'm in jeans, a jumper and thick woolly socks. NME TV is on in the background. I can eat what I like when I like.
And I'm realising once again that there's no way I could ever work from home permanently - I just don't have the discipline. I need to be in an air-conditioned office wearing proper work clothes to get me in the work frame of mind.
Still, one day isn't going to hurt.
Despite the fact that we're in one of the wettest parts of the world, our rail system can't cope with the water, and all trains are cancelled or severely delayed.
Which means that I'm "working from home" today, which means that I'm working in significantly greater comfort than I'm used to.
For a start, I'm in jeans, a jumper and thick woolly socks. NME TV is on in the background. I can eat what I like when I like.
And I'm realising once again that there's no way I could ever work from home permanently - I just don't have the discipline. I need to be in an air-conditioned office wearing proper work clothes to get me in the work frame of mind.
Still, one day isn't going to hurt.
Monday, September 29, 2008
The Kids Are Alright
I'm knackered.
Over the weekend, Dungroanin' played host to an old schoolfriend of Mrs Wife's, accompanied by her two-year-old son.
It's been the best part of 23 years since I lived with a two-year-old boy, and at that time Baby Brother was more of an apprentice than a hindrance.
I've been up more climbing frames, down more chutes and round more roundabouts in the past two days than in the previous two years.
And our little visitor is at the stage where he needs to know what everything is, why everything is, where everything is and who everyone is.
Mrs Wife's rabbits, Pepper and Dylan, have now been rechristened Paper and Dinnae, and were a source of much excitement. As was the local park, the beach, dogs in the park and a football-shaped bottle opener that emits a crowd noise every time it's used.
But the 5.30am wake-up calls have taken their toll, and I'm now feeling more exhausted than I did at the end of the working week.
Just as well we were able to send him home today....
Over the weekend, Dungroanin' played host to an old schoolfriend of Mrs Wife's, accompanied by her two-year-old son.
It's been the best part of 23 years since I lived with a two-year-old boy, and at that time Baby Brother was more of an apprentice than a hindrance.
I've been up more climbing frames, down more chutes and round more roundabouts in the past two days than in the previous two years.
And our little visitor is at the stage where he needs to know what everything is, why everything is, where everything is and who everyone is.
Mrs Wife's rabbits, Pepper and Dylan, have now been rechristened Paper and Dinnae, and were a source of much excitement. As was the local park, the beach, dogs in the park and a football-shaped bottle opener that emits a crowd noise every time it's used.
But the 5.30am wake-up calls have taken their toll, and I'm now feeling more exhausted than I did at the end of the working week.
Just as well we were able to send him home today....
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Broken Household Appliance National Forest
Is nothing built to last any more?
In the past few days, the dishwasher at Dungroanin' has packed in, and this afternoon the Jockmobile refused to start after a hard day of sitting doing nothing in the Montrose railway station car park.
The car I can understand - it does a lot of miles and sheer wear and tear over its seven-year life span is obviously going to take its toll eventually. Hopefully replacement of the starter motor will be quick and comparitively cheap.
But the dishwasher is more irritating. I'm fairly certain it was installed when the house was built, which is around three years ago. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I expect a £450 piece of equipment to last more than three years.
The same can be said of MP3 players - I'm now on my third Magic Tune Box, and I only acquired my first in late 2004.
We've become an unnecessarily wasteful society, where nothing is built for the long-term. If something breaks, it can often be cheaper to replace it than repair it.
In what world does that make sense?
In the past few days, the dishwasher at Dungroanin' has packed in, and this afternoon the Jockmobile refused to start after a hard day of sitting doing nothing in the Montrose railway station car park.
The car I can understand - it does a lot of miles and sheer wear and tear over its seven-year life span is obviously going to take its toll eventually. Hopefully replacement of the starter motor will be quick and comparitively cheap.
But the dishwasher is more irritating. I'm fairly certain it was installed when the house was built, which is around three years ago. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I expect a £450 piece of equipment to last more than three years.
The same can be said of MP3 players - I'm now on my third Magic Tune Box, and I only acquired my first in late 2004.
We've become an unnecessarily wasteful society, where nothing is built for the long-term. If something breaks, it can often be cheaper to replace it than repair it.
In what world does that make sense?
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Weather Or Not
The weather here in deepest, darkest Jockshire can't seem to make its mind up at the moment.
Saturday, which saw Mrs Wife and I host a barbecue for around 50 people, was scorching, and several of those present, myself included, ended the day a more lurid pink than they had started it.
But by the next morning, the debris in the garden was soaked by a constant, core-soaking drizzle that never seemed to depart.
This morning, after Mrs Wife and I made it to bed around midnight following a late evening showing of The Dark Knight, we were awoken around 6am by rumbles of thunder that were, well, thunderous.
And now Dungroanin' is shrouded in a mist that has rolled in, presumably from the North Sea.
Hasn't anyone told the weather that it's meant to be mid-summer?
Saturday, which saw Mrs Wife and I host a barbecue for around 50 people, was scorching, and several of those present, myself included, ended the day a more lurid pink than they had started it.
But by the next morning, the debris in the garden was soaked by a constant, core-soaking drizzle that never seemed to depart.
This morning, after Mrs Wife and I made it to bed around midnight following a late evening showing of The Dark Knight, we were awoken around 6am by rumbles of thunder that were, well, thunderous.
And now Dungroanin' is shrouded in a mist that has rolled in, presumably from the North Sea.
Hasn't anyone told the weather that it's meant to be mid-summer?
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Preparations
This Saturday, Mrs Wife and I are hosting a barbecue.
We did the same last year, and a decent crowd turned out for what eventually amounted to 12 hours of chargrilled meat and cold beer-based fun.
Word has obviously spread, as this year's sequel looks as though it's going to attract 50 hungry punters.
So you'll have to excuse me while I go and mow the carpet, hoover the lawn, marinade the barbecue and scrub the chicken.
Or something like that anyway.
We did the same last year, and a decent crowd turned out for what eventually amounted to 12 hours of chargrilled meat and cold beer-based fun.
Word has obviously spread, as this year's sequel looks as though it's going to attract 50 hungry punters.
So you'll have to excuse me while I go and mow the carpet, hoover the lawn, marinade the barbecue and scrub the chicken.
Or something like that anyway.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Bedtime
It's 2am, and I should really be in bed.
No doubt Mrs Wife has a fun-filled day planned for me tomorrow, what with it being our last weekend at home until the end of May.
I expect that tomorrow's (today's) chores will include cutting the grass, which is a pain in the hole at the best of times but is an especially annoying pain of the whole when it clashes with watching Soccer AM or listening to Rangers v Dundee Utd on the wireless.
(As an aside, my Granny always called the radio the wireless, even though it was always plugged in. Even as a wee boy, that struck me as strange. She also referred to the black stuff on roads as Tarmacadam, which, while it is the correct term, hasn't been used by anyone else since the stuff was invented.)
It seems strange to think that in a week's time, Mrs Wife and I will be en route from Dundee to Glasgow, having just seen Dirty Pretty Things at Fat Sams, and that 24 hours later will be winging our way to Shanghai via Amsterdam.
The extent of my preparation so far has been to pile four new shirts on the spare bed, buy a travel pillow and the Lonely Planet China book and try to find out where in Shanghai I can buy cheap electrical goods and hooky DVDs.
I should really be preparing now, but I'm too busy flicking randomly and distractedly through the hundreds of channels on Sky.
And halfheartedly praying for rain so that I don't have to cut the grass.
No doubt Mrs Wife has a fun-filled day planned for me tomorrow, what with it being our last weekend at home until the end of May.
I expect that tomorrow's (today's) chores will include cutting the grass, which is a pain in the hole at the best of times but is an especially annoying pain of the whole when it clashes with watching Soccer AM or listening to Rangers v Dundee Utd on the wireless.
(As an aside, my Granny always called the radio the wireless, even though it was always plugged in. Even as a wee boy, that struck me as strange. She also referred to the black stuff on roads as Tarmacadam, which, while it is the correct term, hasn't been used by anyone else since the stuff was invented.)
It seems strange to think that in a week's time, Mrs Wife and I will be en route from Dundee to Glasgow, having just seen Dirty Pretty Things at Fat Sams, and that 24 hours later will be winging our way to Shanghai via Amsterdam.
The extent of my preparation so far has been to pile four new shirts on the spare bed, buy a travel pillow and the Lonely Planet China book and try to find out where in Shanghai I can buy cheap electrical goods and hooky DVDs.
I should really be preparing now, but I'm too busy flicking randomly and distractedly through the hundreds of channels on Sky.
And halfheartedly praying for rain so that I don't have to cut the grass.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Happy Holidays
Having never enjoyed the benefits of Bank Holidays off work when with my previous employer, I'm always very appreciative when I get a Monday off with the rest of the working world.
That's especially true when it seems that summer has arrived, as was the case today with barely a cloud in the sky. And so, armed with the Magic Tune Box loaded with the newly-acquired albums by Portishead and The Courteeners, Alexander McCall Smith's fourth No.1 Ladies Detective Agency book and a drink, I spent most of the afternoon baking in the May sunshine.
As a result, my arms are now a lurid lobster pink - which is a progression from corned beef grey, the standard hue of the Scotsman on his own soil.
But now the haar is rolling in and the working week is lumbering in to view. And my arms are stinging a bit.
Still, it was good while it lasted.
That's especially true when it seems that summer has arrived, as was the case today with barely a cloud in the sky. And so, armed with the Magic Tune Box loaded with the newly-acquired albums by Portishead and The Courteeners, Alexander McCall Smith's fourth No.1 Ladies Detective Agency book and a drink, I spent most of the afternoon baking in the May sunshine.
As a result, my arms are now a lurid lobster pink - which is a progression from corned beef grey, the standard hue of the Scotsman on his own soil.
But now the haar is rolling in and the working week is lumbering in to view. And my arms are stinging a bit.
Still, it was good while it lasted.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Plus Points
At the moment, I'm more excited than I really should be at the prospect of Dungroanin' being visited by a man in overalls.
Today is the day, after several months of waiting, that the world of televisual pleasure afforded to myself and Mrs Wife in the homestead enters a new world.
At some point in the next four hours, a Sky engineer will arrive to upgrade our equipment from bog-standard Sky to Sky+. And, as I've already said, I'm more excited than I really should be at the prospect of this development.
In truth, the only real differences will be the possibility of reocrding whole series of shows at the touch of a single button, instead of manually setting the hard drive recorder for every individual episode, and the fact that Sky+ broadcasts in surround sound where available.
But, in my day-to-day life, these count as exciting developments, so I spent an hour last night disconnecting everything in preparation for the Man From Sky's arrival. Which means I'm now sitting here patiently, waiting for the man in the leopard print van to arrive with a brand new Box of Tricks.
I need to get out more.
Today is the day, after several months of waiting, that the world of televisual pleasure afforded to myself and Mrs Wife in the homestead enters a new world.
At some point in the next four hours, a Sky engineer will arrive to upgrade our equipment from bog-standard Sky to Sky+. And, as I've already said, I'm more excited than I really should be at the prospect of this development.
In truth, the only real differences will be the possibility of reocrding whole series of shows at the touch of a single button, instead of manually setting the hard drive recorder for every individual episode, and the fact that Sky+ broadcasts in surround sound where available.
But, in my day-to-day life, these count as exciting developments, so I spent an hour last night disconnecting everything in preparation for the Man From Sky's arrival. Which means I'm now sitting here patiently, waiting for the man in the leopard print van to arrive with a brand new Box of Tricks.
I need to get out more.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Changing Times
Just as all good things must come to an end, so must all semi-good things.
After a fortnight away from the office, I have returned, the bandages removed from my toes and my butchered feet confined within shoes for the first time since they were sliced and diced by the surgeon's skilled hands.
Undertaking the morning commute for the first time in two weeks meant getting up at 6.15am.
I've said it before, but 6.15am is an ungodly hour to be up and about, even for those of us who don't believe in God.
I mean, Sweet Jesus (hmmm, I should probably rethink my choice of exclamations if I don't believe in God), why do we force ourselves to get up and commute to work when it's still dark?
Wouldn't life be so much easier if we just had a four-hour working day? No early morning or early evening travelling, no waking up long before the cocks have crowed, and no more forcing ourselves to stay awake at our desks.
A four-hour working day without a break. 11am until 3pm. Batter through the work in the time it should really take and be home or in the pub by 5pm.
Well, when I'm Supreme Uber-Leader and Commander of All Earth, that'll be the new rule. Prepare yourselves.
After a fortnight away from the office, I have returned, the bandages removed from my toes and my butchered feet confined within shoes for the first time since they were sliced and diced by the surgeon's skilled hands.
Undertaking the morning commute for the first time in two weeks meant getting up at 6.15am.
I've said it before, but 6.15am is an ungodly hour to be up and about, even for those of us who don't believe in God.
I mean, Sweet Jesus (hmmm, I should probably rethink my choice of exclamations if I don't believe in God), why do we force ourselves to get up and commute to work when it's still dark?
Wouldn't life be so much easier if we just had a four-hour working day? No early morning or early evening travelling, no waking up long before the cocks have crowed, and no more forcing ourselves to stay awake at our desks.
A four-hour working day without a break. 11am until 3pm. Batter through the work in the time it should really take and be home or in the pub by 5pm.
Well, when I'm Supreme Uber-Leader and Commander of All Earth, that'll be the new rule. Prepare yourselves.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Countdown
Another weekend has passed, and I'm now into my last few days of home-based working.
Both big toes are healing well, thanks to (or despite) my own cack-handed attempts at applying my own dressings.
Having been out of the office for the best part of a fortnight, I may find it difficult returning to a real 9-5 routine.
Take yesterday for example: instead of heading to bed early, I decided to watch In The Name Of The Father for the first time, because you can never get enough of Daniel Day-Lewis shouting in a Belfast accent.
Which means that I finally hit the sack at around 1am. And I got up around 9am - well I didn't get up, I just switched on the laptop and worked from the comfort of my pit.
So how will I cope with having to rise at 6.15am, and not being able to work in bed? How will I operate without my mid-afternoon Neighbours break?
I want to retire.
Both big toes are healing well, thanks to (or despite) my own cack-handed attempts at applying my own dressings.
Having been out of the office for the best part of a fortnight, I may find it difficult returning to a real 9-5 routine.
Take yesterday for example: instead of heading to bed early, I decided to watch In The Name Of The Father for the first time, because you can never get enough of Daniel Day-Lewis shouting in a Belfast accent.
Which means that I finally hit the sack at around 1am. And I got up around 9am - well I didn't get up, I just switched on the laptop and worked from the comfort of my pit.
So how will I cope with having to rise at 6.15am, and not being able to work in bed? How will I operate without my mid-afternoon Neighbours break?
I want to retire.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Keep The Home Fires Burning
Whilst I am recuperating from my double toenailectomy, my employer has thoughtfully given me a laptop to work from home.
Aside from scuppering any plans I may have had for trawling through the vast backlog of DVDs I have to watch here at Dungroanin', this development has shown me the perils of home working for the first time.
Firstly, just actually starting work can be a difficult task requiring self discipline and commitment. There's no rush to get out of bed and ensure that the morning commute starts on time. There's no boss waiting at the door to ensure that I'm ready for work at 8am sharp, and no-one watching how long lunch lasts.
But besides those initial time-keeping hindrances, there are just so many distractions when working from home. Notwithstanding the vast CD and DVD collections here at the homestead, and the lowest common denominator fare offered by satellite TV, I find myself constantly distracted by the ready availability of food in the kitchen, and the need to put on the washing/switch on the dishwasher/make the bed/have a shower. (If you're reading this Mrs Wife, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.)
Nonetheless, I have managed to power through a fair amount of work during the first three days of my enforced absence from the coalface. I'm hoping to be back at work before I go completely stir crazy - or have the doctor decree that that I shouldn't be working at all and suggest instead that I spend a week watching Thundercats DVDs on the couch.
Aside from scuppering any plans I may have had for trawling through the vast backlog of DVDs I have to watch here at Dungroanin', this development has shown me the perils of home working for the first time.
Firstly, just actually starting work can be a difficult task requiring self discipline and commitment. There's no rush to get out of bed and ensure that the morning commute starts on time. There's no boss waiting at the door to ensure that I'm ready for work at 8am sharp, and no-one watching how long lunch lasts.
But besides those initial time-keeping hindrances, there are just so many distractions when working from home. Notwithstanding the vast CD and DVD collections here at the homestead, and the lowest common denominator fare offered by satellite TV, I find myself constantly distracted by the ready availability of food in the kitchen, and the need to put on the washing/switch on the dishwasher/make the bed/have a shower. (If you're reading this Mrs Wife, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.)
Nonetheless, I have managed to power through a fair amount of work during the first three days of my enforced absence from the coalface. I'm hoping to be back at work before I go completely stir crazy - or have the doctor decree that that I shouldn't be working at all and suggest instead that I spend a week watching Thundercats DVDs on the couch.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Exhumed
Yesterday morning, I aided Mither in clearing out her attic ahead of her forthcoming house move.
As I've mentioned in the past, my grandparents bought the house in 1963. What I haven't mentioned is that my Grampa was a hoarder - if he thought that something might prove interesting or useful in the future, he kept it.
A garage and garden shed full of 'useful' knick knacks have already been emptied. But it was the loft that was always likely to be the greatest challenge, for it was here that he squirreled stuff away, items that have been up in the rafters for 40 years or more.
And so it proved. Amongst the items we removed from the loft were an archaic set of wooden golf clubs, an eight-track tape player, 78rpm records, a projector screen, one headlight for an unknown vehicle, a tent, my Mither's dollys (Mither will turn 46 this year), 12 unopened bottles of wine, six dozen unused glasses too small to drink anything but neat spirits, a Dumbarton tourist brochure from the late 1960s, a 1978 World Cup commemorative edition of the Radio Times and a wooden crate bearing the legend "Corned Mutton - Product of Argentina".
That is merely a brief cross section of the 50 years of detrritus we removed from the loft yesterday. Also included amongst this interesting stuff were random pieces of copper pipe, assorted pieces of wood and boxes of tiles, some of them broken.
Some of the loot we removed from the loft has been retained, but most of it has now been discarded.
If there's an after life, I'm pretty sure that my Grampa is having a good laugh at us spending three days digging through the assembled flotsam and jetsam from three or four generations of my family.
As I've mentioned in the past, my grandparents bought the house in 1963. What I haven't mentioned is that my Grampa was a hoarder - if he thought that something might prove interesting or useful in the future, he kept it.
A garage and garden shed full of 'useful' knick knacks have already been emptied. But it was the loft that was always likely to be the greatest challenge, for it was here that he squirreled stuff away, items that have been up in the rafters for 40 years or more.
And so it proved. Amongst the items we removed from the loft were an archaic set of wooden golf clubs, an eight-track tape player, 78rpm records, a projector screen, one headlight for an unknown vehicle, a tent, my Mither's dollys (Mither will turn 46 this year), 12 unopened bottles of wine, six dozen unused glasses too small to drink anything but neat spirits, a Dumbarton tourist brochure from the late 1960s, a 1978 World Cup commemorative edition of the Radio Times and a wooden crate bearing the legend "Corned Mutton - Product of Argentina".
That is merely a brief cross section of the 50 years of detrritus we removed from the loft yesterday. Also included amongst this interesting stuff were random pieces of copper pipe, assorted pieces of wood and boxes of tiles, some of them broken.
Some of the loot we removed from the loft has been retained, but most of it has now been discarded.
If there's an after life, I'm pretty sure that my Grampa is having a good laugh at us spending three days digging through the assembled flotsam and jetsam from three or four generations of my family.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Eight More Things About Me
My favourite Fred Astaire-loving wiseass Jooette has tagged me with the Eight Fascinating Facts meme.
I've actually done this one before, but what's another eight facts between friends? So here are facts nine to 16:
1: The first football match I ever attended was a friendly between Brechin City and Rangers in 1990 or 1991 for Dougie Scott's testimonial. I think the score was 6-4 to Brechin. Ian Durrant scored a penalty and Mark Walters, Terry Hurlock and Colin Scott all played for Rangers.
2: I have eight Standard Grades, seven Highers, two Certificates of Sixth Year Studies and a Bachelor's degree in Journalism. Oh, and National Certificates in Art, Music and Keyboard Skills.
3: I've scored two goals in the Aberdeen Oil League this season. Our team hasn't won a match yet.
4: I collect Hurricane cocktail glasses from Hard Rock Cafes around the world. So far, my collection covers Rome, Sydney, Edinburgh, Madrid, Melbourne, Singapore, New York, Cancun, Paris, Kuala Sumper, Surfer's Paradise and Hollywood.
5: Wales is the only country in the British Isles that I've never been to. For some reason, it just doesn't appeal.
6: The first dance at my wedding was Here, There and Everywhere by The Beatles.
7: This year, I'm spending Xmas with Mrs Wife's parents for the first time before jetting off to Brussels for New Year.
8: I attended four different Primary Schools and one High School as a boy. My first school had several hundred pupils, my second had nine when I started and seven when I left, my third had three when I started and five when I left, and my fourth had 13 when I started and 11 when I left.
So, weren't those facts just scintillatingly exciting? I'm meant to tag eight more bloggers to play along, but I think everyone should play if they want to and ignore it if they don't.
I've actually done this one before, but what's another eight facts between friends? So here are facts nine to 16:
1: The first football match I ever attended was a friendly between Brechin City and Rangers in 1990 or 1991 for Dougie Scott's testimonial. I think the score was 6-4 to Brechin. Ian Durrant scored a penalty and Mark Walters, Terry Hurlock and Colin Scott all played for Rangers.
2: I have eight Standard Grades, seven Highers, two Certificates of Sixth Year Studies and a Bachelor's degree in Journalism. Oh, and National Certificates in Art, Music and Keyboard Skills.
3: I've scored two goals in the Aberdeen Oil League this season. Our team hasn't won a match yet.
4: I collect Hurricane cocktail glasses from Hard Rock Cafes around the world. So far, my collection covers Rome, Sydney, Edinburgh, Madrid, Melbourne, Singapore, New York, Cancun, Paris, Kuala Sumper, Surfer's Paradise and Hollywood.
5: Wales is the only country in the British Isles that I've never been to. For some reason, it just doesn't appeal.
6: The first dance at my wedding was Here, There and Everywhere by The Beatles.
7: This year, I'm spending Xmas with Mrs Wife's parents for the first time before jetting off to Brussels for New Year.
8: I attended four different Primary Schools and one High School as a boy. My first school had several hundred pupils, my second had nine when I started and seven when I left, my third had three when I started and five when I left, and my fourth had 13 when I started and 11 when I left.
So, weren't those facts just scintillatingly exciting? I'm meant to tag eight more bloggers to play along, but I think everyone should play if they want to and ignore it if they don't.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Soundtrack of My Life
Each month, Mojo magazine interviews three celebrities or musicians for its All Back To My Place page, asking the same questions each month. I figured I'd prepare my answers just in case they ask me for the next issue.
What music are you currently grooving to?
I don't know if it can be classed as "grooving", but I'm listening to The Enemy's debut album We'll Live and Die In These Towns a lot. It reminds me of The Jam, in a kind of vitriolic, call-to-arms, sound of the suburbs sort of way. Nowadays, I listen to music most when I'm driving to and from work, but I have a car share, so I tend not to subject her to anything too outrageous or loud. I'm also waiting for my copy of Hard Fi's Once Upon A Time In The West to be delivered.
What, if push comes to shove, is your all-time favourite album?
The Stone Roses' debut album has been my favourite album since I was about 18. I can't really put into words what it is that makes it so important: the whole package transcends the individual songs and the individual players. But the opening rumble of I Wanna Be Adored, the psychedelic punk of Made of Stone and the epic closer I Am The Resurrection are enough in themselves to make it the greatest record of all time.
What was the first record you ever bought? And where did you buy it?
It was the soundtrack to the movie Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on cassette from John Menzies in Dundee (now replaced by a Tesco Metro) in 1990 or 1991. I'm always surprised when rock stars are interviewed and asked what their first record was, and they say The Jam, or The Beatles, or The Sex Pistols. I went through a long phase of liking shite pop music, a phase I call "being a kid". Kids don't buy Sex Pistols records - they buy novelty records, movie soundtracks and pop. Anyway, the soundtrack to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles included the awesome T-U-R-T-L-E Power by Partners In Kryme, This Is What We Do by MC Hammer and 9.95 by Spunkadelic, all of which I have recently downloaded from the internet. I think I might still have the original tape hidden away in either Mither's or Faither's loft.
Which musician have you ever wanted to be?
Anyone who can play an instrument. I envy people who can pick up an acoustic guitar and rattle off five or six songs faultlessly to entertain a roomful of people. I'd love to be able to play drums like Dave Grohl, bass like Flea or guitar like John Squire.
What do you sing in the shower?
I always used to sing in the shower, but nowadays I get up at 6.15am, which means that I tend not to, for two reasons:
a) 6.15am is not a "singing in the shower" time of day
b) The bathroom at Dungroanin' is en suite, and Mrs Wife would probably not care too much for being woken up at 6.15am by me running through a medley of Super Furry Animals songs.
On the occasions when I do sing, I find that Elvis songs sound great in the shower, as the cubicle makes my voice, which is quite deep (especially when I'm tired), echo. So I'm quite partial to belting out Devil In Disguise and Suspicious Minds. I also like singing Reef's Naked, for someone reason that I haven't been able to fathom, but which may well be Freudian.
What is your favourite Saturday night record?
If it's one record that I'll put on before going out, it's The Stone Roses' debut album, cranked right up so that the bass rattles the windows. I have to listen to the whole thing, finishing with the instrumental at the end of I Am The Resurrection. However, in this age of CD burners and MP3 players, it's all too easy to make up a playlist especially for Saturday nights. When I was at university, my flatmate and I made a going out CD that included Primal Scream's Kill All Hippies, Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit, The White Room by Cream and White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane, amongst others. No-one else liked it, but we thought it was ace.
And your Sunday morning record?
I tend not to listen to music on Sunday mornings, but when I do, it can be almost anything. A bit of Motown can start the day nicely, as can The Beatles. Probably not Metallica, Motorhead or Probot though.
I know many of you can't stand memes, but if you want to play along, feel free. I'd be especially interested to hear how The Tomahawk Kid and Erica would answer.
What music are you currently grooving to?
I don't know if it can be classed as "grooving", but I'm listening to The Enemy's debut album We'll Live and Die In These Towns a lot. It reminds me of The Jam, in a kind of vitriolic, call-to-arms, sound of the suburbs sort of way. Nowadays, I listen to music most when I'm driving to and from work, but I have a car share, so I tend not to subject her to anything too outrageous or loud. I'm also waiting for my copy of Hard Fi's Once Upon A Time In The West to be delivered.
What, if push comes to shove, is your all-time favourite album?
The Stone Roses' debut album has been my favourite album since I was about 18. I can't really put into words what it is that makes it so important: the whole package transcends the individual songs and the individual players. But the opening rumble of I Wanna Be Adored, the psychedelic punk of Made of Stone and the epic closer I Am The Resurrection are enough in themselves to make it the greatest record of all time.
What was the first record you ever bought? And where did you buy it?
It was the soundtrack to the movie Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on cassette from John Menzies in Dundee (now replaced by a Tesco Metro) in 1990 or 1991. I'm always surprised when rock stars are interviewed and asked what their first record was, and they say The Jam, or The Beatles, or The Sex Pistols. I went through a long phase of liking shite pop music, a phase I call "being a kid". Kids don't buy Sex Pistols records - they buy novelty records, movie soundtracks and pop. Anyway, the soundtrack to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles included the awesome T-U-R-T-L-E Power by Partners In Kryme, This Is What We Do by MC Hammer and 9.95 by Spunkadelic, all of which I have recently downloaded from the internet. I think I might still have the original tape hidden away in either Mither's or Faither's loft.
Which musician have you ever wanted to be?
Anyone who can play an instrument. I envy people who can pick up an acoustic guitar and rattle off five or six songs faultlessly to entertain a roomful of people. I'd love to be able to play drums like Dave Grohl, bass like Flea or guitar like John Squire.
What do you sing in the shower?
I always used to sing in the shower, but nowadays I get up at 6.15am, which means that I tend not to, for two reasons:
a) 6.15am is not a "singing in the shower" time of day
b) The bathroom at Dungroanin' is en suite, and Mrs Wife would probably not care too much for being woken up at 6.15am by me running through a medley of Super Furry Animals songs.
On the occasions when I do sing, I find that Elvis songs sound great in the shower, as the cubicle makes my voice, which is quite deep (especially when I'm tired), echo. So I'm quite partial to belting out Devil In Disguise and Suspicious Minds. I also like singing Reef's Naked, for someone reason that I haven't been able to fathom, but which may well be Freudian.
What is your favourite Saturday night record?
If it's one record that I'll put on before going out, it's The Stone Roses' debut album, cranked right up so that the bass rattles the windows. I have to listen to the whole thing, finishing with the instrumental at the end of I Am The Resurrection. However, in this age of CD burners and MP3 players, it's all too easy to make up a playlist especially for Saturday nights. When I was at university, my flatmate and I made a going out CD that included Primal Scream's Kill All Hippies, Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit, The White Room by Cream and White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane, amongst others. No-one else liked it, but we thought it was ace.
And your Sunday morning record?
I tend not to listen to music on Sunday mornings, but when I do, it can be almost anything. A bit of Motown can start the day nicely, as can The Beatles. Probably not Metallica, Motorhead or Probot though.
I know many of you can't stand memes, but if you want to play along, feel free. I'd be especially interested to hear how The Tomahawk Kid and Erica would answer.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Can I Have A P Please Bob?
Tish tagged me with this "Seven Ps" meme. Play along if it takes your fancy.
Passion - Music. The right music can calm me down, wind me up, put me to sleep, wake me up, make me angry, make me happy, make me laugh, make me cry and make me jump up and down in a small, dark club full of sweaty, hairy men.
Purpose - To enjoy my life. I always thought I'd end up working in London, commuting to work and living in a tiny flat with only lines of traffic to see out my window. But I've long since realised that there's more to enjoying life than what you do for a living. I'm much happier where I am.
Pursuit - A long(ish), happy, healthy life with my family and good friends.
Position - On top (of what, I don't know).
Pummeling - My debt into submission. This time next year. Within a few months, I expect to be debt free (mortgage and student loan excepted).
Progress - Slowly but surely.
Personality - Laid back. Ambitious, but not to a detrimental effect on my lifestyle.
Passion - Music. The right music can calm me down, wind me up, put me to sleep, wake me up, make me angry, make me happy, make me laugh, make me cry and make me jump up and down in a small, dark club full of sweaty, hairy men.
Purpose - To enjoy my life. I always thought I'd end up working in London, commuting to work and living in a tiny flat with only lines of traffic to see out my window. But I've long since realised that there's more to enjoying life than what you do for a living. I'm much happier where I am.
Pursuit - A long(ish), happy, healthy life with my family and good friends.
Position - On top (of what, I don't know).
Pummeling - My debt into submission. This time next year. Within a few months, I expect to be debt free (mortgage and student loan excepted).
Progress - Slowly but surely.
Personality - Laid back. Ambitious, but not to a detrimental effect on my lifestyle.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Kidding On
Sometimes, I think I'm 27 going on seven.
Take last night for example. I get home to find Montrose basking in warm sunshine, a condition which I believe was known as summer in days gone by.
Joining Mrs Wife in the garden, the conversation goes something like this:
Mrs Wife: "Perfect weather to cut the grass"
Groanin' Jock: "Yep"
MW: "Are you going to cut the grass then?"
GJ: "Nope"
MW: "Why not?"
GJ: "I'm playing Football Manager and reading a magazine."
This is a fairly common conversational thread at Dungroanin'. Typically, Mrs Wife will suggest I partake of a thrilling activity such as cleaning the bathroom, washing the car or picking my clean clothes up off the floor and putting them in the wardrobe.
I will then usually explain that I am already engaged in an activity, such as filing my CDs in alphabetical order, scanning photographs to put on Bebo, attempting to download Laurie Anderson's O Superman from the internet or kicking some serious dinosaur ass on Final Fantasy X2.
Is it normal for a fully-grown adult male to spend whole days and weeks engaged in such infantile pursuits? In the past few days, for example, I have spent a couple of hours dicking about on Ebay looking at Transformers toys and comics and researching the history of the Autobots on Wikipedia. I have easily devoted more hours to thinking about the way forward for my Everton side on Football Manager than I have on mortgage repayments and car insurance, and I've been more absorbed in repeats of The Simpsons than in the day's news headlines.
And if, in the next few years, Mrs Wife decides to pop out a Jockling or two, will this situation improve or worsen? Would the sleepless nights, nappy changes and feedings adultify me, or would the easy access to toys and Teletubbies send me closer towards the point of no return, when I quit my job so that I can devote more time to my more favoured pursuits?
Take last night for example. I get home to find Montrose basking in warm sunshine, a condition which I believe was known as summer in days gone by.
Joining Mrs Wife in the garden, the conversation goes something like this:
Mrs Wife: "Perfect weather to cut the grass"
Groanin' Jock: "Yep"
MW: "Are you going to cut the grass then?"
GJ: "Nope"
MW: "Why not?"
GJ: "I'm playing Football Manager and reading a magazine."
This is a fairly common conversational thread at Dungroanin'. Typically, Mrs Wife will suggest I partake of a thrilling activity such as cleaning the bathroom, washing the car or picking my clean clothes up off the floor and putting them in the wardrobe.
I will then usually explain that I am already engaged in an activity, such as filing my CDs in alphabetical order, scanning photographs to put on Bebo, attempting to download Laurie Anderson's O Superman from the internet or kicking some serious dinosaur ass on Final Fantasy X2.
Is it normal for a fully-grown adult male to spend whole days and weeks engaged in such infantile pursuits? In the past few days, for example, I have spent a couple of hours dicking about on Ebay looking at Transformers toys and comics and researching the history of the Autobots on Wikipedia. I have easily devoted more hours to thinking about the way forward for my Everton side on Football Manager than I have on mortgage repayments and car insurance, and I've been more absorbed in repeats of The Simpsons than in the day's news headlines.
And if, in the next few years, Mrs Wife decides to pop out a Jockling or two, will this situation improve or worsen? Would the sleepless nights, nappy changes and feedings adultify me, or would the easy access to toys and Teletubbies send me closer towards the point of no return, when I quit my job so that I can devote more time to my more favoured pursuits?
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Eight Things About Me
As seen over at Blog d'Elisson and at Blissful Bedlam - Eight Random Facts About Me.
The useless knowledge is listed below, but first we'd better keep things proper by explaining the rools:
Write a post enumerating eight facts/habits about yourself. Include the rules at the beginning of the post.
Tag eight people, posting their names and links to their sites. (I'm not going to do that - if anyone wants to play, feel free. If you don't, don't.)
Leave comments at the sites you’ve tagged, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.
So here we go - eight things you didn't need (or want) to know about me:
1. I've never had an operation under general anaesthetic. In fact, I can count my hospital visits on the fingers of one hand: the first was to get a piece of grit removed from my eye as a teenager, the second was to see how badly I'd damaged my ankle playing football (it turned out to be a strained ligament), the third was to see whether I'd broken my nose playing football (notice a theme here? I hadn't, just burst it open quite spectacularly), the fourth was to see if I'd broken my ribs playing football (I hadn't, they were just bruised) and the fifth was when I had my toenail removed by a doctor who gave me a single local anaesthetic injection. Please note that I was touching wood and crossing my fingers whilst I wrote that answer.
2. The longest I've lived in one house is seven years, when my parents and I (and for three of those years Baby Brother) lived in a small cottage in the countryside near Montrose. I took a drive down there on the way home from work a couple of weeks ago and it hasn't changed at all in the intervening 20 years.
3. The most keepie-uppies I have ever done with a football without it bouncing on the ground is 120. At the end of the session, my legs were exhausted and I'd moved about 10 metres in the time it took, which was probably about five minutes. So I can't begin to fathom how Martinho Eduardo Orige managed to keep a ball in the air for 19-and-a-half hours.
4. I've visited seven of the eight Australian States and Territories, including the Australian Capital Territory and Tasmania. Mrs Wife (then known as Miss Girlfriend) and I didn't make it to the Northern Territory because of an unfortunate incident with an exploding car engine that cost us $2,500 to fix.
5. I can lick my nose and wiggle my ears. But not at the same time.
6. Whilst at university I worked as a security guard, a kitchen porter and as a journalist for a Premier League football team.
7. My favourite alcoholic drink is Cointreau, lime and lemonade. Which is probably the least masculine drink that one can order at any bar in Scotland.
8. I'm allergic to cats and have a phobia of birds. Apart from that, I like animals.
The useless knowledge is listed below, but first we'd better keep things proper by explaining the rools:
Write a post enumerating eight facts/habits about yourself. Include the rules at the beginning of the post.
Tag eight people, posting their names and links to their sites. (I'm not going to do that - if anyone wants to play, feel free. If you don't, don't.)
Leave comments at the sites you’ve tagged, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.
So here we go - eight things you didn't need (or want) to know about me:
1. I've never had an operation under general anaesthetic. In fact, I can count my hospital visits on the fingers of one hand: the first was to get a piece of grit removed from my eye as a teenager, the second was to see how badly I'd damaged my ankle playing football (it turned out to be a strained ligament), the third was to see whether I'd broken my nose playing football (notice a theme here? I hadn't, just burst it open quite spectacularly), the fourth was to see if I'd broken my ribs playing football (I hadn't, they were just bruised) and the fifth was when I had my toenail removed by a doctor who gave me a single local anaesthetic injection. Please note that I was touching wood and crossing my fingers whilst I wrote that answer.
2. The longest I've lived in one house is seven years, when my parents and I (and for three of those years Baby Brother) lived in a small cottage in the countryside near Montrose. I took a drive down there on the way home from work a couple of weeks ago and it hasn't changed at all in the intervening 20 years.
3. The most keepie-uppies I have ever done with a football without it bouncing on the ground is 120. At the end of the session, my legs were exhausted and I'd moved about 10 metres in the time it took, which was probably about five minutes. So I can't begin to fathom how Martinho Eduardo Orige managed to keep a ball in the air for 19-and-a-half hours.
4. I've visited seven of the eight Australian States and Territories, including the Australian Capital Territory and Tasmania. Mrs Wife (then known as Miss Girlfriend) and I didn't make it to the Northern Territory because of an unfortunate incident with an exploding car engine that cost us $2,500 to fix.
5. I can lick my nose and wiggle my ears. But not at the same time.
6. Whilst at university I worked as a security guard, a kitchen porter and as a journalist for a Premier League football team.
7. My favourite alcoholic drink is Cointreau, lime and lemonade. Which is probably the least masculine drink that one can order at any bar in Scotland.
8. I'm allergic to cats and have a phobia of birds. Apart from that, I like animals.
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