Monday, June 25, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Summer Cleaning
Not much time for blogging today: In a week's time, Dungroanin' will be the venue for a housewarming BBQ/party.
In preparation for this event, Mrs Wife and I are cleaning the homestead from top to bottom, sorting out the garden and building garden furniture and the BBQ itself.
So I can't stop for long. I will return once Dungroanin' has reached Mrs Wife's high standards.....
In preparation for this event, Mrs Wife and I are cleaning the homestead from top to bottom, sorting out the garden and building garden furniture and the BBQ itself.
So I can't stop for long. I will return once Dungroanin' has reached Mrs Wife's high standards.....
Friday, June 22, 2007
Doctor Jones Is Back
Doo-Dee-Doo-Doo,Doo-Dee-Doo,
Doo-Dee-Doo-Doo,
Doo-De-Doo-Doo-Doo
I'm as excited as a bespectacled Sean Connery who believes he's just taken a drink from the Ark of the Covenant - The first photographs from the fourth Indiana Jones film have been released.
My boyhood years happily coincided with the peak of Harrison Ford's career, from Star Wars through to Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade.
So please excuse me if I get excited at the prospect of seeing Indy flick that whip as he searches for further artefacts from the dawn of time.
What's Worn Under The Kilt?
Disturbing results from my latest batch of Google referrers.
In the past three days, the search terms that have brought people my way from the world's favourite search engine have included "anal gerbilling", "she pulled my testicles" and "colour underwear with kilt".
Of the three, it's the last that is most disturbing.
If you need to ask what colour of underwear you should be wearing beneath your kilt, you shouldn't be wearing one.
In the past three days, the search terms that have brought people my way from the world's favourite search engine have included "anal gerbilling", "she pulled my testicles" and "colour underwear with kilt".
Of the three, it's the last that is most disturbing.
If you need to ask what colour of underwear you should be wearing beneath your kilt, you shouldn't be wearing one.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Life On Mars?
Anyone fancy spending a year and a half on a trip to Mars?
The European Space Agency is looking for volunteers to take part in a simulation of what life would be like for a team of astronauts travelling to the red planet from Earth.
According to the BBC report: "With the exception of weightlessness and radiation, the crew will experience most other aspects of long-haul space travel, such as cramped conditions, a high workload, lack of privacy, and limited supplies."
The ESA could save itself some money though: the experiment is taking place in Moscow - surely they don't have to build a dummy spaceship to simulate cramped conditions, high workload, lack of privacy and limited supplies? Just send the "crew" to live in a high rise block anywhere in Russia.
Even the "delayed communications with Earth" wouldn't be a problem, as anyone who's ever called Russia on a normal telephone will be able to attest to.
All joking aside, a mission to Mars sounds like a great way to spend 18 months. I would have thought it would take longer to get there, but you could do a round trip in three years, if you could build a spacecraft capable of holding that much fuel.
Ever since I was a wee laddy, I've always dreamed of going into space. I'm presuming that I'll never get the chance, although I suppose if, when they were children, you'd told my grandparents that they'd fly to France in an aeroplane, they would have had trouble imagining an aeroplane, let alone being inside one.
I don't know if the ESA will be desperately seeking overweight Scottish journalists for its maiden Mars voyage though.
The European Space Agency is looking for volunteers to take part in a simulation of what life would be like for a team of astronauts travelling to the red planet from Earth.
According to the BBC report: "With the exception of weightlessness and radiation, the crew will experience most other aspects of long-haul space travel, such as cramped conditions, a high workload, lack of privacy, and limited supplies."
The ESA could save itself some money though: the experiment is taking place in Moscow - surely they don't have to build a dummy spaceship to simulate cramped conditions, high workload, lack of privacy and limited supplies? Just send the "crew" to live in a high rise block anywhere in Russia.
Even the "delayed communications with Earth" wouldn't be a problem, as anyone who's ever called Russia on a normal telephone will be able to attest to.
All joking aside, a mission to Mars sounds like a great way to spend 18 months. I would have thought it would take longer to get there, but you could do a round trip in three years, if you could build a spacecraft capable of holding that much fuel.
Ever since I was a wee laddy, I've always dreamed of going into space. I'm presuming that I'll never get the chance, although I suppose if, when they were children, you'd told my grandparents that they'd fly to France in an aeroplane, they would have had trouble imagining an aeroplane, let alone being inside one.
I don't know if the ESA will be desperately seeking overweight Scottish journalists for its maiden Mars voyage though.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Socks Appeal
Dublin is a strange city. The city centre, with its Georgian townhouses and the landscaped beauty of St Stephen's Green, seems fairly affluent, albeit not in an overly ostentatious way. But the bus ride into the city from the airport takes you through suburbs as run down as any I've seen in western Europe. I suppose that all the EU money that the Republic of Ireland has pulled in over the past decade or so only stretches so far.
Mrs Wife and I were in Dublin this weekend to attend a party celebrating the marriage of a good friend of mine from my university days. Having decided to wed on a beach in Thailand, they then invited their family and friends to a low-key soiree in Dublin.
It was the third time I'd visited the Irish capital - the first was with the friend whose wedding party we were attending, way back in the days before I knew Mrs Wife and he knew his new bride. Six of us spent a week touring Ireland, a tour which involved spending more time in licensed premises than in tourist attractions.
My second visit was in 2003, when I took the then Miss Girlfriend to Dublin to see Justin Timberlake touring his debut album. At some point in the future, I may write about that trip, but for now, I will concentrate on this weekend.
Although I'd visited Dublin twice previously, this was the first time I'd flown into its airport, having arrived by train from Belfast on my previous trips. This trip was also different in that we knew that our sight-seeing time was to be limited, as we were partying on both the Saturday night and the Sunday night, the main event taking place on the Sunday.
When we were first invited to the party, I tried to book a hotel as close to the venue as possible. Mrs Wife and I have decided that, on reflection, selecting a hotel that "boasts" a nightclub which remains open until 3am was probably not a great idea. It would seem that the hotel in question makes most of its money from the nigthclub. Our room was easily the worst we have stayed in whilst travelling in Europe, and was worse than most of those we endured during three months in South East Asia.
Two enjoyable nights on the town aside, and discounting the grottiness of our room, the defining factor of our trip was my wardrobe. Deciding to exude a little Scottish class, I took my kilt across the Irish Sea. As I was awaiting our bags at the carousel in Dublin airport, it suddenly dawned on me that I had neglected to pack a shirt to go with the kilt. Whilst an inconvenience, this wasn't an insurmountable problem - I would simply buy a plain white shirt, which would be a passable replacement for the real thing.
Having found a suitable stand-in shirt, I was hanging up my outfit in the hotel and checking that I had all of the other constituent parts of the kilt. Sporran - check. Shoes - check. Bow tie - check. Socks. Socks. Socks? SOCKS?
Damn. I'd forgotten the socks. This may not sound like a big deal - socks are socks. Except when the outfit in question is a kilt. Because the kilt extends to knee length, and the shoes lace up around the calf and shin, the socks are vital to the overall look.
Mrs Wife was, of course, suitably impressed with this revelation. As Dublin's shops had closed for the evening, it meant that Sunday, the day of the party, was spent roaming the city's streets in search of socks for an outfit from a foreign country.
We tried many different outlets, including one chain that rents kilts out, but in vain - Dublin is not the best place in the world to buy kilt socks. Finally, with our hangovers reaching the "fatally dehydrated" stage, our patience wearing thin and our feet aching, we were directed to a store called House of Ireland.
They didn't stock kilt socks. But they did have thick, knee-length, woollen socks, which would stand as passable replacements for one evening. I almost baulked at the pricetag - ELEVEN POUNDS for a pair of socks (I am a man who normally buys underwear in packs of three and always for less than five pounds - eleven pounds for a pair of socks is a bit steep).
And the moral of the tale? Listen to your mother's advice - ALWAYS pack clean underwear.
(As a post script to this strangely lengthy tale of socks, most of the other guests at the party were wearing jeans and casual shirts. But hey, a man in a kilt in a roomful of Irish people wearing jeans is ALWAYS going to stand out.)
Mrs Wife and I were in Dublin this weekend to attend a party celebrating the marriage of a good friend of mine from my university days. Having decided to wed on a beach in Thailand, they then invited their family and friends to a low-key soiree in Dublin.
It was the third time I'd visited the Irish capital - the first was with the friend whose wedding party we were attending, way back in the days before I knew Mrs Wife and he knew his new bride. Six of us spent a week touring Ireland, a tour which involved spending more time in licensed premises than in tourist attractions.
My second visit was in 2003, when I took the then Miss Girlfriend to Dublin to see Justin Timberlake touring his debut album. At some point in the future, I may write about that trip, but for now, I will concentrate on this weekend.
Although I'd visited Dublin twice previously, this was the first time I'd flown into its airport, having arrived by train from Belfast on my previous trips. This trip was also different in that we knew that our sight-seeing time was to be limited, as we were partying on both the Saturday night and the Sunday night, the main event taking place on the Sunday.
When we were first invited to the party, I tried to book a hotel as close to the venue as possible. Mrs Wife and I have decided that, on reflection, selecting a hotel that "boasts" a nightclub which remains open until 3am was probably not a great idea. It would seem that the hotel in question makes most of its money from the nigthclub. Our room was easily the worst we have stayed in whilst travelling in Europe, and was worse than most of those we endured during three months in South East Asia.
Two enjoyable nights on the town aside, and discounting the grottiness of our room, the defining factor of our trip was my wardrobe. Deciding to exude a little Scottish class, I took my kilt across the Irish Sea. As I was awaiting our bags at the carousel in Dublin airport, it suddenly dawned on me that I had neglected to pack a shirt to go with the kilt. Whilst an inconvenience, this wasn't an insurmountable problem - I would simply buy a plain white shirt, which would be a passable replacement for the real thing.
Having found a suitable stand-in shirt, I was hanging up my outfit in the hotel and checking that I had all of the other constituent parts of the kilt. Sporran - check. Shoes - check. Bow tie - check. Socks. Socks. Socks? SOCKS?
Damn. I'd forgotten the socks. This may not sound like a big deal - socks are socks. Except when the outfit in question is a kilt. Because the kilt extends to knee length, and the shoes lace up around the calf and shin, the socks are vital to the overall look.
Mrs Wife was, of course, suitably impressed with this revelation. As Dublin's shops had closed for the evening, it meant that Sunday, the day of the party, was spent roaming the city's streets in search of socks for an outfit from a foreign country.
We tried many different outlets, including one chain that rents kilts out, but in vain - Dublin is not the best place in the world to buy kilt socks. Finally, with our hangovers reaching the "fatally dehydrated" stage, our patience wearing thin and our feet aching, we were directed to a store called House of Ireland.
They didn't stock kilt socks. But they did have thick, knee-length, woollen socks, which would stand as passable replacements for one evening. I almost baulked at the pricetag - ELEVEN POUNDS for a pair of socks (I am a man who normally buys underwear in packs of three and always for less than five pounds - eleven pounds for a pair of socks is a bit steep).
And the moral of the tale? Listen to your mother's advice - ALWAYS pack clean underwear.
(As a post script to this strangely lengthy tale of socks, most of the other guests at the party were wearing jeans and casual shirts. But hey, a man in a kilt in a roomful of Irish people wearing jeans is ALWAYS going to stand out.)
Friday, June 15, 2007
LALOLKFATYK
"LALOLKFATYK" - not the sound of a cat coughing up a particularly gruesome hairball, but the "Learn A Lot Of Little Known Facts About Those You Know" meme.
I've been tagged by Erica, my favourite Jewish Brooklyn wiseass. Anyone interested in finding out more facts about strange folk on the worldwide interweb can also find this meme over at Elisson's blog and at Chickie's.
WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? I don't think so. Mither has told me that when she first held me, she decided there and then when to call me. Just a pity she didn't pick something better than Groanin' Jock.
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? I can't remember. (Well, I can, but I don't want to say.)
DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I like it just fine, although it is atrocious. On a day-to-day basis, I write in capitals, as my proper handwriting is just a scrawl. I prefer typing - I can actually type faster than I can write with a pen and paper. Which is probably why I never passed my 100 words a minute shorthand exam....
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Emmmmm - does chicken and sweetcorn mayo count? It would probably have to be chicken in one of its many forms - whether barbecued, cooked in a Mexican stylee or just served on plain bread with salad.
DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Not yet. But I am looking forward to the days when I have an army of little Jocklings to mould in my own image. If I can persuade Mrs Wife to pop out five of them, that's an indoor football team sorted, and the garden at Dungroanin' is big enough to teach them how to play smooth passing football. Plus it's also enough to form the Groanin' Five, like the Jackson Five only without the afros and pet monkeys. In the words of Homer Simpson: "Kids are great. You can teach them to hate what you hate and, with the Internet and all, they practically raise themselves." Although they won't be getting anywhere near the strange folk on my Blogroll.
IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? I think so. I'm pretty easy going, I like good music, I'm a fountain of wisdom and a have a barbed and sarcastic sense of humour. What's not to like?
DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Yes, every day, and far more than I should. Basically, it's the cornerstone of my sense of humour. Which is probably due to watching Fawlty Towers, Blackadder and Bottom during my formative years.
DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes. Thankfully, by the time I contracted tonsilitis as a wee boy back in 1986, the practise of removing them had died out. I think I was just told to eat ice cream.
WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? No, never. I experienced the thrill of the bungee ball when I was in New Zealand and that was was bad enough, but I just can't imagine ever wanting to jump head first off a bridge.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE CEREAL? It was always Frosties when I was a kid, but now I'm grown up (allegedly) I eat fruit and fibre every morning (nutritious, healthy and keeps things moving at the right pace). But I'm still partial to a bowl of Frosties (which are just as delicious when eaten "raw" - without milk) or Coco Pops.
DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Not usually - I'm lazy. Although when the shoes in question are new, expensive, my kilt shoes (which lace up around my calf and shin) or my bright blue Nike football trainers, I have to.
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Not really, at least not with my arms. Years of playing football and running mean that my legs are much stronger than my arms, and that I've got a belter of shot when playing football. Not always terribly accurate mind, but it'll hurt if it catches you in a tender part of your body.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE ICE CREAM? Pretty much all of them. I am partial to Ben and Jerry's Phish Food though.
WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Probably eyes, but I think you just take in the whole package in one go, don't you? With women, probably chesticles and butt.
RED OR PINK? Neither. I think I only have two item of red clothing, a cheap sweatshirt and a Vietnam football shirt, and no pink ones.
WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVOURITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I'm lazy. I could easily tackle that problem by being less lazy, but I'm too lazy to do that.
WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? Both my grandfathers, who died when I was six years old and 12 years old. They never got to see me and Baby Brother grow up to be the well-rounded individuals we've become.
WHAT COLOUR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Pants - does that mean trousers or underwear? If it's the former, a pair of baggy blue Levi's. If it's the latter, white cotton boxers. Shoes - brown, white and red Pierre Cardin trainers.
WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? A bowl of Tesco Fruit and Fibre with semi-skimmed milk and a pint of fresh orange juice.
WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? General office background noise - people typing, talking about reports, people shuffling papers.
IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOUR WOULD YOU BE? Is there such a colour as Purple Haze? Sounds like a good one to me. But realistically, I'd be blue or black - the two staple colours of my wardrobe.
FAVOURITE SMELLS? Warm cotton that's just been ironed, Mrs Wife, chicken fajitas cooking, Indian food, petrol, fresh cut grass on a hot summer day.
WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? A close friend who served as one of my best men at our wedding last year. Just a general catch up.
FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Football. Which shall never, on this blog, be referred to as soccer. It's football. If it was soccer, FIFA would be called FISA, the SFA would be the SSA and the FA Cup would be called the SA Cup.
HAIR COLOUR[S]? Brown, which has gotten darker as I've grown older. There are now quite a few grey patches creeping in as well, including a big clump right at the front that looks ridiculous.
EYE COLOR? Green
DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? No, I've got 20:20 vision (but I've never seen the light).
FAVOURITE FOOD? Chicken Fajitas. Chili Con Carne. My Mither's spaghetti bolognese. My Granny's steak pie, which I'll never taste again. Cheese cake. Cadbury's Dairy Milk chocolate.
SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? I like movies that make you think - it doesn't matter whether they're scary, funny or thrilling, just make them entertaining.
LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? I believe it was Pirates of the Caribbean 3. Which was rather good.
WHAT COLOUR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? A white t-shirt with a green and black rockstar grafitti pattern on it.
SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer - I hate being cold. I don't mind playing in the snow, but I generally hate being cold.
HUGS OR KISSES? I like both, but I'll choose kisses.
FAVOURITE DESSERT? Pretty much anything that doesn't have alcohol in it.
MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? I don't know - Sho? Tish?
LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Erica, Elisson and Chickie - they've already done it.
WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? The Prize: The Epic Quest For Oil, Money and Power by Daniel Yergin - it's a massive book detailing the history of the oil industry. So far, I'm about two chapters in, and things are getting interesting between America and Russia around the turn of the 19th/20th Century.
WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? At work it's plain blue with Belkin written on it. At home I use a laptop.
WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? Big Brother and the first episode of the second series of My Name Is Earl.
FAVOURITE SOUND[S]? An acoustic guitar being played by someone who can really play. Waves hitting the shore without any other background sounds.
ROLLING STONES OR THE BEATLES? The Beatles are the greatest band ever to have walked the Earth. They've been my favourite band since I was 16. But sometimes I get a craving for scuzzy rock'n'roll or something with a bit more growl than The Beatles ever recorded, and I'll listen to the Stones - especially Sympathy For The Devil and Gimme Shelter.
WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? I'm not sure which is farthest away - Perth, Western Australia; Tasmania; Brisbane; New Zealand; or Fiji.
DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? When I have time and put my mind to it, I'm a pretty good writer. I think there's a novel inside me, I just haven't got the time or the inclination to get it out right now.
WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Ninewells Hospital, Dundee.
WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? Anyone who cares to respond.
I've been tagged by Erica, my favourite Jewish Brooklyn wiseass. Anyone interested in finding out more facts about strange folk on the worldwide interweb can also find this meme over at Elisson's blog and at Chickie's.
WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? I don't think so. Mither has told me that when she first held me, she decided there and then when to call me. Just a pity she didn't pick something better than Groanin' Jock.
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? I can't remember. (Well, I can, but I don't want to say.)
DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I like it just fine, although it is atrocious. On a day-to-day basis, I write in capitals, as my proper handwriting is just a scrawl. I prefer typing - I can actually type faster than I can write with a pen and paper. Which is probably why I never passed my 100 words a minute shorthand exam....
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Emmmmm - does chicken and sweetcorn mayo count? It would probably have to be chicken in one of its many forms - whether barbecued, cooked in a Mexican stylee or just served on plain bread with salad.
DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Not yet. But I am looking forward to the days when I have an army of little Jocklings to mould in my own image. If I can persuade Mrs Wife to pop out five of them, that's an indoor football team sorted, and the garden at Dungroanin' is big enough to teach them how to play smooth passing football. Plus it's also enough to form the Groanin' Five, like the Jackson Five only without the afros and pet monkeys. In the words of Homer Simpson: "Kids are great. You can teach them to hate what you hate and, with the Internet and all, they practically raise themselves." Although they won't be getting anywhere near the strange folk on my Blogroll.
IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? I think so. I'm pretty easy going, I like good music, I'm a fountain of wisdom and a have a barbed and sarcastic sense of humour. What's not to like?
DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Yes, every day, and far more than I should. Basically, it's the cornerstone of my sense of humour. Which is probably due to watching Fawlty Towers, Blackadder and Bottom during my formative years.
DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes. Thankfully, by the time I contracted tonsilitis as a wee boy back in 1986, the practise of removing them had died out. I think I was just told to eat ice cream.
WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? No, never. I experienced the thrill of the bungee ball when I was in New Zealand and that was was bad enough, but I just can't imagine ever wanting to jump head first off a bridge.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE CEREAL? It was always Frosties when I was a kid, but now I'm grown up (allegedly) I eat fruit and fibre every morning (nutritious, healthy and keeps things moving at the right pace). But I'm still partial to a bowl of Frosties (which are just as delicious when eaten "raw" - without milk) or Coco Pops.
DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Not usually - I'm lazy. Although when the shoes in question are new, expensive, my kilt shoes (which lace up around my calf and shin) or my bright blue Nike football trainers, I have to.
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Not really, at least not with my arms. Years of playing football and running mean that my legs are much stronger than my arms, and that I've got a belter of shot when playing football. Not always terribly accurate mind, but it'll hurt if it catches you in a tender part of your body.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE ICE CREAM? Pretty much all of them. I am partial to Ben and Jerry's Phish Food though.
WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Probably eyes, but I think you just take in the whole package in one go, don't you? With women, probably chesticles and butt.
RED OR PINK? Neither. I think I only have two item of red clothing, a cheap sweatshirt and a Vietnam football shirt, and no pink ones.
WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVOURITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I'm lazy. I could easily tackle that problem by being less lazy, but I'm too lazy to do that.
WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? Both my grandfathers, who died when I was six years old and 12 years old. They never got to see me and Baby Brother grow up to be the well-rounded individuals we've become.
WHAT COLOUR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Pants - does that mean trousers or underwear? If it's the former, a pair of baggy blue Levi's. If it's the latter, white cotton boxers. Shoes - brown, white and red Pierre Cardin trainers.
WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? A bowl of Tesco Fruit and Fibre with semi-skimmed milk and a pint of fresh orange juice.
WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? General office background noise - people typing, talking about reports, people shuffling papers.
IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOUR WOULD YOU BE? Is there such a colour as Purple Haze? Sounds like a good one to me. But realistically, I'd be blue or black - the two staple colours of my wardrobe.
FAVOURITE SMELLS? Warm cotton that's just been ironed, Mrs Wife, chicken fajitas cooking, Indian food, petrol, fresh cut grass on a hot summer day.
WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? A close friend who served as one of my best men at our wedding last year. Just a general catch up.
FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Football. Which shall never, on this blog, be referred to as soccer. It's football. If it was soccer, FIFA would be called FISA, the SFA would be the SSA and the FA Cup would be called the SA Cup.
HAIR COLOUR[S]? Brown, which has gotten darker as I've grown older. There are now quite a few grey patches creeping in as well, including a big clump right at the front that looks ridiculous.
EYE COLOR? Green
DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? No, I've got 20:20 vision (but I've never seen the light).
FAVOURITE FOOD? Chicken Fajitas. Chili Con Carne. My Mither's spaghetti bolognese. My Granny's steak pie, which I'll never taste again. Cheese cake. Cadbury's Dairy Milk chocolate.
SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? I like movies that make you think - it doesn't matter whether they're scary, funny or thrilling, just make them entertaining.
LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? I believe it was Pirates of the Caribbean 3. Which was rather good.
WHAT COLOUR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? A white t-shirt with a green and black rockstar grafitti pattern on it.
SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer - I hate being cold. I don't mind playing in the snow, but I generally hate being cold.
HUGS OR KISSES? I like both, but I'll choose kisses.
FAVOURITE DESSERT? Pretty much anything that doesn't have alcohol in it.
MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? I don't know - Sho? Tish?
LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Erica, Elisson and Chickie - they've already done it.
WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? The Prize: The Epic Quest For Oil, Money and Power by Daniel Yergin - it's a massive book detailing the history of the oil industry. So far, I'm about two chapters in, and things are getting interesting between America and Russia around the turn of the 19th/20th Century.
WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? At work it's plain blue with Belkin written on it. At home I use a laptop.
WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? Big Brother and the first episode of the second series of My Name Is Earl.
FAVOURITE SOUND[S]? An acoustic guitar being played by someone who can really play. Waves hitting the shore without any other background sounds.
ROLLING STONES OR THE BEATLES? The Beatles are the greatest band ever to have walked the Earth. They've been my favourite band since I was 16. But sometimes I get a craving for scuzzy rock'n'roll or something with a bit more growl than The Beatles ever recorded, and I'll listen to the Stones - especially Sympathy For The Devil and Gimme Shelter.
WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? I'm not sure which is farthest away - Perth, Western Australia; Tasmania; Brisbane; New Zealand; or Fiji.
DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? When I have time and put my mind to it, I'm a pretty good writer. I think there's a novel inside me, I just haven't got the time or the inclination to get it out right now.
WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Ninewells Hospital, Dundee.
WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? Anyone who cares to respond.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Taste of Nuts
What's the worst injury ever inflicted upon you by another human being?
I think mine is probably taking a kick in the nose and mouth playing football - I bent downwards to head the ball, my opponent leant back to kick it, and my head met his foot at high speed. My nose exploded in a spectacular shower of blood, and I was left with an imprint of the Nike logo on my face for a week or two, but thankfully my nose didn't break.
The only other instance I can think of was when I bruised my ribs, again playing football, this time when an opponent and high collided at high speed.
Neither of these injuries was intentionally inflicted.
So I can't really imagine how 37-year-old Geoffrey Jones must have felt when a former partner ripped one of his testicles off with her bare hands.
According to the BBC report, Amanda Monti flew into a rage when Jones rejected her advances at the end of a house party.
She pulled off his left testicle and tried to swallow it, before spitting it out.
This woman clearly has issues. Not only did she manage to rip this man's testicle off - staggering enough in itself - but she then tried to eat it.
In a letter to the court that jailed her for two-and-a-half years, she said: "It was never my intention to cause harm to Geoff and the fact that I have caused him injury will live with me forever. I am in no way a violent person."
Of course you aren't dear, you just ripped a man's testicle out of his scrotum with your bare hands despite the fact that he was fully clothed at the time, then attempted to swallow it. You're obviously a timid pacifist.
I think mine is probably taking a kick in the nose and mouth playing football - I bent downwards to head the ball, my opponent leant back to kick it, and my head met his foot at high speed. My nose exploded in a spectacular shower of blood, and I was left with an imprint of the Nike logo on my face for a week or two, but thankfully my nose didn't break.
The only other instance I can think of was when I bruised my ribs, again playing football, this time when an opponent and high collided at high speed.
Neither of these injuries was intentionally inflicted.
So I can't really imagine how 37-year-old Geoffrey Jones must have felt when a former partner ripped one of his testicles off with her bare hands.
According to the BBC report, Amanda Monti flew into a rage when Jones rejected her advances at the end of a house party.
She pulled off his left testicle and tried to swallow it, before spitting it out.
This woman clearly has issues. Not only did she manage to rip this man's testicle off - staggering enough in itself - but she then tried to eat it.
In a letter to the court that jailed her for two-and-a-half years, she said: "It was never my intention to cause harm to Geoff and the fact that I have caused him injury will live with me forever. I am in no way a violent person."
Of course you aren't dear, you just ripped a man's testicle out of his scrotum with your bare hands despite the fact that he was fully clothed at the time, then attempted to swallow it. You're obviously a timid pacifist.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Expatriot
With the exception of a year spent travelling around the world with Mrs Wife (then known as Miss Girlfriend), I've lived all my life in Scotland.
Last night, in a conversation with Mrs Wife and my uncle on the Munros, I realised that I've only been to the top of one of Scotland's 284 highest mountains.
The one Munro which I can say with certainty that I have climbed is Mount Keen at the head of Glenesk, which I walked up with my fellow members of Glenesk Youth Club when I was only 10 years old.
I've never climbed Ben Nevis, Ben Macdui or Ben Lomond, although I have been up Cairn Gorm in its funicular railway.
In truth, my experience of travelling around Scotland is pretty limited. Until last month, when I visited Skye, I'd only been to one of Scotland's islands, Mull. I don't think I've ever been to Stirling Castle, I've never been to Eilean Donan and I haven't visited Orkney or Shetland.
It's quite strange that I've visited Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Fiji and New Zealand, but I've never been to Blair Atholl. I've spent eight months in Australia, driving right across the country from the east coast to the west, but I haven't spent even a single day in Cupar.
In fact, I'm so poorly travelled within my own country that I think it's time I do something about it. Arran and Islay both appeal as the first ports of call on my Magical Mystery Tour of Scotland, which will begin just as soon as I have time.
However, it won't be this weekend, because that's when I'm visiting Dublin....for the third time.....
Last night, in a conversation with Mrs Wife and my uncle on the Munros, I realised that I've only been to the top of one of Scotland's 284 highest mountains.
The one Munro which I can say with certainty that I have climbed is Mount Keen at the head of Glenesk, which I walked up with my fellow members of Glenesk Youth Club when I was only 10 years old.
I've never climbed Ben Nevis, Ben Macdui or Ben Lomond, although I have been up Cairn Gorm in its funicular railway.
In truth, my experience of travelling around Scotland is pretty limited. Until last month, when I visited Skye, I'd only been to one of Scotland's islands, Mull. I don't think I've ever been to Stirling Castle, I've never been to Eilean Donan and I haven't visited Orkney or Shetland.
It's quite strange that I've visited Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Fiji and New Zealand, but I've never been to Blair Atholl. I've spent eight months in Australia, driving right across the country from the east coast to the west, but I haven't spent even a single day in Cupar.
In fact, I'm so poorly travelled within my own country that I think it's time I do something about it. Arran and Islay both appeal as the first ports of call on my Magical Mystery Tour of Scotland, which will begin just as soon as I have time.
However, it won't be this weekend, because that's when I'm visiting Dublin....for the third time.....
Monday, June 11, 2007
Sabbath
Every so often I'll have a week or fortnight long period when I immerse myself in the music of one particular band or artist.
I'll frequently go through periods where I listen to nothing but Bob Dylan's albums from the late 1960s and 1970s. Quite often, I'll find that classic Rolling Stones albums take up a semi-permanent residency in my CD player. And, on a less regular basis, I again become enamoured by David Bowie's recorded output, listening to random albums from the 1960s through to the noughties.
Recently, this strange affliction has moved onto Led Zeppelin, and, more often, Black Sabbath.
I love the sound of Sabbath's "Ozzy years". Subsequent incarnations without the band's original frontman just weren't the same.
Watching the BBC's brilliant Seven Ages of Rock series on Saturday, it was great to see the band in their pomp, barrelling through huge slabs of proto-metal. Though they founded heavy metal, lumbering the band with that tag is unfair. They stand apart from other metal bands through their sound, a heavy blues-driven rumble. Bill Ward's drumming, apparently drawing inspiration from industrial machinery in their native Birmingham, and Tony Iommi's howling guitar stand head and shoulders above all of the metal acts that followed.
The biggest revelation from the programme was that Ozzy Osbourne was known to wander the streets of Birmingham in the 1960s, dragging a shoe around on a rope, which he would tell passers by was his "pet shoe". I guess I always just thought it was drugs that turned him mad, rather than just exacerbated his obvious problems.
I doubt many of you will share my love of Sabbath. But I defy anyone to listen to The Wizard and not move in some way. Whether it's nodding your head, tapping your feet, playing air guitar, dancing or lurching to "stop that infernal racket", I'm sure you won't be able to sit still for long.
Recently, this strange affliction has moved onto Led Zeppelin, and, more often, Black Sabbath.
I love the sound of Sabbath's "Ozzy years". Subsequent incarnations without the band's original frontman just weren't the same.
Watching the BBC's brilliant Seven Ages of Rock series on Saturday, it was great to see the band in their pomp, barrelling through huge slabs of proto-metal. Though they founded heavy metal, lumbering the band with that tag is unfair. They stand apart from other metal bands through their sound, a heavy blues-driven rumble. Bill Ward's drumming, apparently drawing inspiration from industrial machinery in their native Birmingham, and Tony Iommi's howling guitar stand head and shoulders above all of the metal acts that followed.
The biggest revelation from the programme was that Ozzy Osbourne was known to wander the streets of Birmingham in the 1960s, dragging a shoe around on a rope, which he would tell passers by was his "pet shoe". I guess I always just thought it was drugs that turned him mad, rather than just exacerbated his obvious problems.
I doubt many of you will share my love of Sabbath. But I defy anyone to listen to The Wizard and not move in some way. Whether it's nodding your head, tapping your feet, playing air guitar, dancing or lurching to "stop that infernal racket", I'm sure you won't be able to sit still for long.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Begins At Home
England's international footballers are amongst the most loathsome, obscenely rich people in the country.
In one passage of Frank Lampard's autobiography (which must be a thrilling read covering his 28 years on the planet) he supposedly regales the reader with the story of how he was in awe of the wealth on show on Chelsea owner Roman Abramovich's yacht. This from a man who earns about eighty thousand pounds a week.
In the space of a week, Joey Barton, a mono-syllabic thug who in any other walk of life would likely have been jailed by now, earns four times as much as the average British worker.
So, it is with mixed feelings that I read today's news that the England national team is to donate all of its earnings from international fixtures to charity.
True, the move is to be applauded. But we are talking here of 25 players making a donation once every couple of months. There are more than 400 players plying their trade in the Premiership, all of whom could make a sizeable difference by making a similar pledge.
In one passage of Frank Lampard's autobiography (which must be a thrilling read covering his 28 years on the planet) he supposedly regales the reader with the story of how he was in awe of the wealth on show on Chelsea owner Roman Abramovich's yacht. This from a man who earns about eighty thousand pounds a week.
In the space of a week, Joey Barton, a mono-syllabic thug who in any other walk of life would likely have been jailed by now, earns four times as much as the average British worker.
So, it is with mixed feelings that I read today's news that the England national team is to donate all of its earnings from international fixtures to charity.
True, the move is to be applauded. But we are talking here of 25 players making a donation once every couple of months. There are more than 400 players plying their trade in the Premiership, all of whom could make a sizeable difference by making a similar pledge.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
I Am The Walrus
The sun is out, the sky is blue and I'm off to lie in the hammock. So I'll leave you with a masterpiece of psychedelic nonsense, from an era when four twenty-somethings from Liverpool were the coolest guys on the planet. This is the record that changed my life.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Weather or Not?
The weather here in Jockshire over the past 24 hours has been, for want of a better word, changeable.
Last night, as I drove home from Aberdeen, a lightning storm began to rip the thick black clouds apart, a forewarning of the Biblical rainstorm that followed.
All of last evening, as I sat in the house alone, the rain battered down, the lightning continuing for at least four hours. In fact, the thunder was still rumbling as I went to bed. I attempted to capture it on video, but unfortunately my mobile phone couldn't do the weather justice.
On the one occasion I ventured out in it, as far as the garage, I was utterly soaked, and the noise of the fat raindrops belting off the horizontal steel garage door sounded like bullets ripping into a metal bucket.
But this afternoon, as my colleagues and I left an Aberdeen restaurant following a "working lunch", the sun was drying Scotland out, beating down from a clear blue sky.
Which bodes well for a weekend when I have Dungroanin' to myself and when Mrs Wife is taking part in a sponsored walk up a Munro.
I sense a full hammock day is approaching.
Last night, as I drove home from Aberdeen, a lightning storm began to rip the thick black clouds apart, a forewarning of the Biblical rainstorm that followed.
All of last evening, as I sat in the house alone, the rain battered down, the lightning continuing for at least four hours. In fact, the thunder was still rumbling as I went to bed. I attempted to capture it on video, but unfortunately my mobile phone couldn't do the weather justice.
On the one occasion I ventured out in it, as far as the garage, I was utterly soaked, and the noise of the fat raindrops belting off the horizontal steel garage door sounded like bullets ripping into a metal bucket.
But this afternoon, as my colleagues and I left an Aberdeen restaurant following a "working lunch", the sun was drying Scotland out, beating down from a clear blue sky.
Which bodes well for a weekend when I have Dungroanin' to myself and when Mrs Wife is taking part in a sponsored walk up a Munro.
I sense a full hammock day is approaching.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
What's In A Name?
Guess which site is top unsponsored link when someone types "male jock meat" into the Optimum search engine?
Even worse - I finish above Gay Man Flicks TGP - Free Gay Sex Movies Every Day :)
I really should have thought of a better name for this blog....
Even worse - I finish above Gay Man Flicks TGP - Free Gay Sex Movies Every Day :)
I really should have thought of a better name for this blog....
Time For A Tune
Every now and again, I like to dig out the Magic Tune Box, set it to shuffle and see where its whims take us. This is one of those occasions, so here's today's random ten.
1: Who Named The Days? by Arab Strap (from the album Monday At The Hug and Pint): Trademark melancholy from Scotland's own sadly-departed purveyors of misery. Includes a haunting cello refrain to drag Aidan Moffat's lyrics even deeper into tear-stained territory.
2: Wu-Tang Clan Ain't Nuthing Ta F' Wit by Wu-Tang Clang (from the album Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)): Still magnificent 13 years after its release, 36 Chambers is, alongside Straight Outta Compton, my favourite hip-hop album. There's an in-your-face delivery that still sounds menacing, whilst the Kung-Fu samples thrown in mark it as different from other records of its era.
3: Slow Fade by Teenage Fanclub (from the album Man-Made): From the Fannies' most recent record, this could have been recorded at any point during their lengthy career. That they've never made it to the upper reaches of the charts or the associated riches is criminal.
4: The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909-1934) by Elton John (from the album Goodbye Yellow Brick Road): Recorded at the peak of Elton's commercial powers, The Ballad of Danny Bailey doesn't get the credit it deserves, having been dwarfed by Candle In The Wind, Bennie and The Jets, Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting and the album's title track. However, it bears favourable comparison with the cream of Elton's work, backing the electric piano with a soaring string arrangement.
5: I Forget by Campag Velocet (B-Side from the single To Lose La Trek): Ten-minute groove from purveyors of noisy, Clockwork Orange-influenced indie mentalists. Whispered vocals from Pete Voss fit in well with the Happy Mondays-style rhythms. A cracking track from a vastly-underrated band, one of the most absorbing live acts I've ever seen.
6: Get Back by The Beatles (from the album Let It Be): Paul McCartney may have gotten his way with the release of Let It Be...Naked in 2003, but Let It Be, despite Phil Spector's OTT production and the inclusion of snippets of dialogue, proved that The Beatles could still play hard and fast blues rock. Billy Preston's keyboard fits perfectly with the chugging bass riff and Ringo's freight train drumming. They may have been a band on the way out, but they ended their career in style.
7: All I Want by The Stone Roses (from the album Garage Flower): Garage Flower was intended as The Stone Roses' debut album, but the band scrapped it and went back to the drawing board, returning with the greatest album ever made, their eponymous debut. Garage Flower was eventually released after the band had split, and showcased a harder, punkier side than that recorded on the first official album. All I Want, like So Young and Tell Me, is probably underrated, but pales into comparison when played alongside anything from the official debut.
8: More Than Us by Travis (with Anne Dudley) (from the More Than Us EP): Delicate reworking of a track from Travis' debut album Good Feeling. Anne Dudley, formerly of the Art of Noise and now a composer, scored the strings for the remix, giving it a sound that fitted with the Britpop theme of the time purveyed by Oasis and The Verve.
9: The Song We Were Singing by Paul McCartney (from the album Flaming Pie): Paul McCartney's post-Beatles work has been unfairly maligned. Granted, much of his output in the 1970s and 1980s didn't cut the mustard, falling well below the standards expected of a songwriter of his pedigree. 1997's Flaming Pie did much to restore his reputation. Very Beatlesy, The Song We Were Singing is a gentle sing-along ending in delicate finger-picking and a strong string arrangement.
10: Sweet Little Sixteen by The Beatles (from the album Live At The BBC): Rock'n'roll standard recorded by the Fabs during one of their many appearances on BBC radio. Whilst showcasing a tight rock'n'roll band and John Lennon's vocal strength, it doesn't hint that the band would become musical revolutionaries within five years.
1: Who Named The Days? by Arab Strap (from the album Monday At The Hug and Pint): Trademark melancholy from Scotland's own sadly-departed purveyors of misery. Includes a haunting cello refrain to drag Aidan Moffat's lyrics even deeper into tear-stained territory.
2: Wu-Tang Clan Ain't Nuthing Ta F' Wit by Wu-Tang Clang (from the album Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)): Still magnificent 13 years after its release, 36 Chambers is, alongside Straight Outta Compton, my favourite hip-hop album. There's an in-your-face delivery that still sounds menacing, whilst the Kung-Fu samples thrown in mark it as different from other records of its era.
3: Slow Fade by Teenage Fanclub (from the album Man-Made): From the Fannies' most recent record, this could have been recorded at any point during their lengthy career. That they've never made it to the upper reaches of the charts or the associated riches is criminal.
4: The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909-1934) by Elton John (from the album Goodbye Yellow Brick Road): Recorded at the peak of Elton's commercial powers, The Ballad of Danny Bailey doesn't get the credit it deserves, having been dwarfed by Candle In The Wind, Bennie and The Jets, Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting and the album's title track. However, it bears favourable comparison with the cream of Elton's work, backing the electric piano with a soaring string arrangement.
5: I Forget by Campag Velocet (B-Side from the single To Lose La Trek): Ten-minute groove from purveyors of noisy, Clockwork Orange-influenced indie mentalists. Whispered vocals from Pete Voss fit in well with the Happy Mondays-style rhythms. A cracking track from a vastly-underrated band, one of the most absorbing live acts I've ever seen.
6: Get Back by The Beatles (from the album Let It Be): Paul McCartney may have gotten his way with the release of Let It Be...Naked in 2003, but Let It Be, despite Phil Spector's OTT production and the inclusion of snippets of dialogue, proved that The Beatles could still play hard and fast blues rock. Billy Preston's keyboard fits perfectly with the chugging bass riff and Ringo's freight train drumming. They may have been a band on the way out, but they ended their career in style.
7: All I Want by The Stone Roses (from the album Garage Flower): Garage Flower was intended as The Stone Roses' debut album, but the band scrapped it and went back to the drawing board, returning with the greatest album ever made, their eponymous debut. Garage Flower was eventually released after the band had split, and showcased a harder, punkier side than that recorded on the first official album. All I Want, like So Young and Tell Me, is probably underrated, but pales into comparison when played alongside anything from the official debut.
8: More Than Us by Travis (with Anne Dudley) (from the More Than Us EP): Delicate reworking of a track from Travis' debut album Good Feeling. Anne Dudley, formerly of the Art of Noise and now a composer, scored the strings for the remix, giving it a sound that fitted with the Britpop theme of the time purveyed by Oasis and The Verve.
9: The Song We Were Singing by Paul McCartney (from the album Flaming Pie): Paul McCartney's post-Beatles work has been unfairly maligned. Granted, much of his output in the 1970s and 1980s didn't cut the mustard, falling well below the standards expected of a songwriter of his pedigree. 1997's Flaming Pie did much to restore his reputation. Very Beatlesy, The Song We Were Singing is a gentle sing-along ending in delicate finger-picking and a strong string arrangement.
10: Sweet Little Sixteen by The Beatles (from the album Live At The BBC): Rock'n'roll standard recorded by the Fabs during one of their many appearances on BBC radio. Whilst showcasing a tight rock'n'roll band and John Lennon's vocal strength, it doesn't hint that the band would become musical revolutionaries within five years.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Movie Quiz - Take Two
Those of you who happen by this strange outpost on the far-flung margins of the worldwide interweb more than once may remember that I recently joined in the movie quiz meme, promising a fantastic prize for the person with the highest score.
So far, that person is Chickie. That is because, so far, Chickie is the only entrant. As she's already twice won prizes around these parts for landing here as the 3,000th and 6,000th visitor, I think someone else should jump in and gazump her (does that sound rude?).
The closing date for entries will therefore be noon GMT tomorrow - good luck!
So far, that person is Chickie. That is because, so far, Chickie is the only entrant. As she's already twice won prizes around these parts for landing here as the 3,000th and 6,000th visitor, I think someone else should jump in and gazump her (does that sound rude?).
The closing date for entries will therefore be noon GMT tomorrow - good luck!
Picture This
Just to prove that the words that appear on this humble blog aren't the overworkings of a head full of nonsense, here is the photographic evidence that I attended the primary school reunion last weekend.Thank you to Sho, who risked the sack to send me the photograph instead of having me pay for it. For those of you who want to play "Where's Wally/Waldo?", I am NOT wearing a fluorescent shell suit in this picture. Which I'm sure will come as a great disappointment to many of you.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Foaming At The Mouth
Many aspects of my childhood years are gone forever - cartoons I enjoyed as a boy have long since been cancelled, the computer systems I grew up playing have long been rendered obselete and friends with whom I enjoyed countless games of football, hide and seek and manhunt have grown up and we've lost touch.
Food and drinks that I gorged on to satisfy my healthy childhood appetite have also changed, most of them not for the better. Curly Wurlys, once a half-hour of solid chewing on a slab of toffee half an inch think, are now thin, chocolate-coated slivers of caramel providing a far smaller task to finish. King Size Mars Bars were, to my recollection, once the equivalent of one-and-a-half regular Mars Bars, not slightly bigger, as they are today.
But one hallowed foodstuff from my formative years has gone forever. Creamola Foam, a soft drink made by mixing a flavoured powder with water, has long since disappeared from our shelves.
In Scotland, we revel in our unhealthy diet. If something can be consumed, it must have sugar added or be deep-fried. Creamola Foam, I am sure, can't have been healthy. It tasted unnaturally sweet and came in a variety of lurid colours.
Although I did enjoy partaking of a glass of Creamola Foam as a child, my fondest memories of it are from my teenage years, when a group of us found that it made the ideal mixer for vodka. It was common for us to mix a litre of vodka and a whole tub of Creamola Foam (which made around four pints of the soft drink) in a basin. Even with so much vodka swilling around this mix, no taste of alcohol could be discerned, making it the ideal concoction for teenage drinkers finding their feet in the world of illicit activities.
But alas it is no more. Which is why some of my nostalgic countrymen have begun a campaign to bring back Creamola Foam.
Gentlemen, whoever you are, I wish you every success. We may be living in a world at war, where children die every day due to poverty and where the very future of our planet is questionable. But I, for one, sincerely hope that your quest to bring back this vivid brew is a success.
Food and drinks that I gorged on to satisfy my healthy childhood appetite have also changed, most of them not for the better. Curly Wurlys, once a half-hour of solid chewing on a slab of toffee half an inch think, are now thin, chocolate-coated slivers of caramel providing a far smaller task to finish. King Size Mars Bars were, to my recollection, once the equivalent of one-and-a-half regular Mars Bars, not slightly bigger, as they are today.
But one hallowed foodstuff from my formative years has gone forever. Creamola Foam, a soft drink made by mixing a flavoured powder with water, has long since disappeared from our shelves.
In Scotland, we revel in our unhealthy diet. If something can be consumed, it must have sugar added or be deep-fried. Creamola Foam, I am sure, can't have been healthy. It tasted unnaturally sweet and came in a variety of lurid colours.
Although I did enjoy partaking of a glass of Creamola Foam as a child, my fondest memories of it are from my teenage years, when a group of us found that it made the ideal mixer for vodka. It was common for us to mix a litre of vodka and a whole tub of Creamola Foam (which made around four pints of the soft drink) in a basin. Even with so much vodka swilling around this mix, no taste of alcohol could be discerned, making it the ideal concoction for teenage drinkers finding their feet in the world of illicit activities.
But alas it is no more. Which is why some of my nostalgic countrymen have begun a campaign to bring back Creamola Foam.
Gentlemen, whoever you are, I wish you every success. We may be living in a world at war, where children die every day due to poverty and where the very future of our planet is questionable. But I, for one, sincerely hope that your quest to bring back this vivid brew is a success.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Back To School
Until very recently, I believed that I was still too young to be invited to a school reunion. After all, it's only been nine years since I left secondary school, and only five since I graduated from university.
But despite still being a metaphorical spring chicken, I was recently invited to attend a reunion of all those fortunate past pupils of Tarfside Primary School who are still alive.
So, despite both suffering from chronic hangovers, Baby Brother and I headed back to the school for the first time in many years on Saturday.
Actually, that's a lie. Mither dropped us off at the school on Saturday. Which is pretty lame - a combined age of 50 and we're still getting driven to school by our mum.
It was an unusual gathering. Though many had travelled considerable distances to attend the event, many hadn't made it for one reason or another. So we were left with a strange spectrum of ages, ranging from the school's current pupils, all aged between five and twelve years, up to a handful of alumni now within grasping distance of their 80th birthdays.
(What is the correct collective name for a group of elderly folk? A wrinkle? A moan? A zimmer?)
The present, but soon to be retired, teacher at the school has retained self-made yearbooks for each of her years at the helm of the school, and it was equally intriguing and mortifying to flick through the pages chronicling my brief period as a pupil.
Parents in the early 1990s must have cruel, colourblind or both. Amongst the natty costumes I was sporting in the photos were a faded Rangers shellsuit, the jacket bleached a pastel shade closer to lilac than to the more proper Royal Blue; a Rangers strip (notice a trend here?) which I wore in its entirety, the shorts hiked up to somewhere around my armpits; and a pair of Bermuda-patterned Speedo swimming trunks, which at least provided some distraction from my lurid white pigeon chest.
Thankfully, this catalogue of what not to wear was shared equally amongst those of us who attended school around the same time, so the burden of shame wasn't mine to bear alone.
Even more toe-curling were the videos of school plays showing on a constant loop in a back room, showcasing to full effect the incendiary thespian skills of Scottish primary school children, starring yours truly affecting some god-awful English accent for recurring roles as a butler.
All in all, it was a great weekend, offering the opportunity to catch up with old friends who have been strangers for too long, drink to excess in the unique surroundings of Tarfside Masonic Hall and spend Sunday eating freshly barbecued hamburgers whilst playing football on the school playing field for the first time in nigh-on 15 years.
Needless to say, I had lost none of the magic.....
But despite still being a metaphorical spring chicken, I was recently invited to attend a reunion of all those fortunate past pupils of Tarfside Primary School who are still alive.
So, despite both suffering from chronic hangovers, Baby Brother and I headed back to the school for the first time in many years on Saturday.
Actually, that's a lie. Mither dropped us off at the school on Saturday. Which is pretty lame - a combined age of 50 and we're still getting driven to school by our mum.
It was an unusual gathering. Though many had travelled considerable distances to attend the event, many hadn't made it for one reason or another. So we were left with a strange spectrum of ages, ranging from the school's current pupils, all aged between five and twelve years, up to a handful of alumni now within grasping distance of their 80th birthdays.
(What is the correct collective name for a group of elderly folk? A wrinkle? A moan? A zimmer?)
The present, but soon to be retired, teacher at the school has retained self-made yearbooks for each of her years at the helm of the school, and it was equally intriguing and mortifying to flick through the pages chronicling my brief period as a pupil.
Parents in the early 1990s must have cruel, colourblind or both. Amongst the natty costumes I was sporting in the photos were a faded Rangers shellsuit, the jacket bleached a pastel shade closer to lilac than to the more proper Royal Blue; a Rangers strip (notice a trend here?) which I wore in its entirety, the shorts hiked up to somewhere around my armpits; and a pair of Bermuda-patterned Speedo swimming trunks, which at least provided some distraction from my lurid white pigeon chest.
Thankfully, this catalogue of what not to wear was shared equally amongst those of us who attended school around the same time, so the burden of shame wasn't mine to bear alone.
Even more toe-curling were the videos of school plays showing on a constant loop in a back room, showcasing to full effect the incendiary thespian skills of Scottish primary school children, starring yours truly affecting some god-awful English accent for recurring roles as a butler.
All in all, it was a great weekend, offering the opportunity to catch up with old friends who have been strangers for too long, drink to excess in the unique surroundings of Tarfside Masonic Hall and spend Sunday eating freshly barbecued hamburgers whilst playing football on the school playing field for the first time in nigh-on 15 years.
Needless to say, I had lost none of the magic.....
Friday, June 01, 2007
Happy Returns
So now to report back on the anniversary weekend.
Mrs Wife set off from sunny Montrose on the Saturday morning, bound for Gretna but with no accommodation booked. In hindsight, this probably wasn't the smartest move, given that it was a Bank Holiday weekend and we were heading for a town popular with wedding parties.
Nonetheless, we arrived at the Tourist Information office at Gretna Gateway Village (a discount retail park offering clothes, houshold goods and food at knockdown prices) and the kind ladies managed to find us what seemed to be the last B&B room in the whole of Dumfries and Galloway. Except that it was in England, but only by a mile.
We'd only been to Gretna once, passing through en route to visiting Mrs Wife's family down south. In truth, there isn't much to see - the Old Blacksmith's Shop and the retail village are about the extent of Gretna's attractions, at least outwith the football season.
So instead of hanging around, we visited Carlisle on the Saturday evening, where gruesome hen parties marauded the streets in search of fresh meat. There's a strange mix of accents in the Borders: native Scots mingling with the broad Geordie brogue, which can make drinking in the area a surreal experience.
Starved of excitment in Gretna, we visited Dumfries on our anniversary, where we turned our hands and feet to go-karting. Needless to say, male driving skills won the day, and I left Mrs Wife trailing in my wake (twice), despite crashing during an audacious overtaking manouvre.
In Dumfries we also saw a charity raft race on the river Nith, which given the cold wind and rain, seemed foolhardy at best.
Other local landmarks we visited were the camera obscura, our visit coinciding with one of the day's few dry spells, Robert Burns' house and his mausoleum.
For some reason, I didn't even know that Burns had a mausoleum - I thought he'd been buried in an unmarked pauper's grave. Which just goes to show how ignorant I am - his tomb is a majestic white building with locked gates and a statue of the man himself. This is doubly ignorant considering that I may be related to Scotland's most famous son.
Sunday's anniversary meal was a splendid affair in Smith's at Gretna Green, a luxurious hotel that doesn't seem to fit in with the rest of the village.
We had no plans for our journey home, but decided that a trip to Blair Drummond Safari Park near Stirling was as good a way to spend the afternoon as any.
I have hazy recollections of visiting the park with Mither and Faither as a wee boy, and of monkeys climbing on the roof and bonnet of the car. There were no monkeys this time around, but we did get VERY close to a pride of lions. We watched as several lionesses wandered past our window, followed by a male lion. The male stopped right beside Mrs Wife's passenger window, where he showed his disdain for us by pissing on our bonnnet. There was no question - we were his bitches.
So, in a car smelling of lion piss, we headed back to less-than-sunny Montrose, stopping only to watch the third installment of the Pirates of The Caribbean series in Dundee. I was most keen to see Keith Richards playing a pirate, a role which he pulled off with aplomb - although it was hardly a departure from his daily life.
And there you have it - a weekend of mausoleums, rock'n'roll pirates, go-kart crashes and lion piss. My second anniversary will struggle to live up to that.
Mrs Wife set off from sunny Montrose on the Saturday morning, bound for Gretna but with no accommodation booked. In hindsight, this probably wasn't the smartest move, given that it was a Bank Holiday weekend and we were heading for a town popular with wedding parties.
Nonetheless, we arrived at the Tourist Information office at Gretna Gateway Village (a discount retail park offering clothes, houshold goods and food at knockdown prices) and the kind ladies managed to find us what seemed to be the last B&B room in the whole of Dumfries and Galloway. Except that it was in England, but only by a mile.
We'd only been to Gretna once, passing through en route to visiting Mrs Wife's family down south. In truth, there isn't much to see - the Old Blacksmith's Shop and the retail village are about the extent of Gretna's attractions, at least outwith the football season.
So instead of hanging around, we visited Carlisle on the Saturday evening, where gruesome hen parties marauded the streets in search of fresh meat. There's a strange mix of accents in the Borders: native Scots mingling with the broad Geordie brogue, which can make drinking in the area a surreal experience.
Starved of excitment in Gretna, we visited Dumfries on our anniversary, where we turned our hands and feet to go-karting. Needless to say, male driving skills won the day, and I left Mrs Wife trailing in my wake (twice), despite crashing during an audacious overtaking manouvre.
In Dumfries we also saw a charity raft race on the river Nith, which given the cold wind and rain, seemed foolhardy at best.
Other local landmarks we visited were the camera obscura, our visit coinciding with one of the day's few dry spells, Robert Burns' house and his mausoleum.
For some reason, I didn't even know that Burns had a mausoleum - I thought he'd been buried in an unmarked pauper's grave. Which just goes to show how ignorant I am - his tomb is a majestic white building with locked gates and a statue of the man himself. This is doubly ignorant considering that I may be related to Scotland's most famous son.
Sunday's anniversary meal was a splendid affair in Smith's at Gretna Green, a luxurious hotel that doesn't seem to fit in with the rest of the village.
We had no plans for our journey home, but decided that a trip to Blair Drummond Safari Park near Stirling was as good a way to spend the afternoon as any.
I have hazy recollections of visiting the park with Mither and Faither as a wee boy, and of monkeys climbing on the roof and bonnet of the car. There were no monkeys this time around, but we did get VERY close to a pride of lions. We watched as several lionesses wandered past our window, followed by a male lion. The male stopped right beside Mrs Wife's passenger window, where he showed his disdain for us by pissing on our bonnnet. There was no question - we were his bitches.
So, in a car smelling of lion piss, we headed back to less-than-sunny Montrose, stopping only to watch the third installment of the Pirates of The Caribbean series in Dundee. I was most keen to see Keith Richards playing a pirate, a role which he pulled off with aplomb - although it was hardly a departure from his daily life.
And there you have it - a weekend of mausoleums, rock'n'roll pirates, go-kart crashes and lion piss. My second anniversary will struggle to live up to that.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
A Day In The Life
My today has consisted of:
Attending a subsea technology conference in Aberdeen, where I listened to several presentations on subsea trees (a type of oilwell), pipe-in-pipe technology and the shortage of skilled oil workers in the UK.
This evening I have spent two hours cutting the vast expanse of lawn at Dungroanin', whilst listening to Black Sabbath, AC/DC and We Are Scientists on the Magic Tune Box.
I am now in need of a hot bath and an early night. I promise a full post will materialise here tomorrow.
Attending a subsea technology conference in Aberdeen, where I listened to several presentations on subsea trees (a type of oilwell), pipe-in-pipe technology and the shortage of skilled oil workers in the UK.
This evening I have spent two hours cutting the vast expanse of lawn at Dungroanin', whilst listening to Black Sabbath, AC/DC and We Are Scientists on the Magic Tune Box.
I am now in need of a hot bath and an early night. I promise a full post will materialise here tomorrow.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Prizegiving Day
In a super bumper day of prizes, the 6,000th visitor should pass this way today at some point.
If it's you, you win a prize!
If it's you, you win a prize!
Movie Quiz
I don't have time to write a "proper" post today - trifling matters like work and playing football are getting in the way.
So, by way of an apology, I'll finally get around to replying to the Movies Meme as originally seen over at Blissful Bedlam and Erica's Blog.
Here's the thinking behind the Meme: Pick out ten favorite movies, then look them up at www.IMDb.com.
In the overview at the top of each movie’s page, there are "Plot Keywords", usually five of them. (Plus more, if you click the link.) Take the first five, and post them. Then the rest of us get to play movie buff and see if we can guess them.
So here are my movies:
Informer/Tragedy/Growing Up/Rise and Fall/No Opening Credits (That's an easy one to start with)
Bad Guy/Suspect/Line Up/Myth/FBI Agent (That's even easier)
Kennedy Assassination/Child Abuse/Mentally Impaired/Legless Person/Vietnam War Veteran (More of a tough one)
Door Broken Down/Stephen King/Snow/Disturbing/Cannibalism (Far too easy)
Dysfunctional Family/Pepsi/Television/Girl Next Door/Self Fulfillment (Not a hope in hell!)
Martial Arts/Hyperspace/Famous Opening Theme/Galactic War/Computer (A bit confusing, but probably still fairly easy)
1990s/1950s/1960s/Rise and Fall/Marijuana (Good luck!)
Female Sniper/Disturbing/Physical Abuse/Electric Shaver/1960s (What?!)
Long Take/Kiss/Katana Sword/Payback/Blood (I wouldn't have got this one)
Voice Over/Death of Daughter/Disturbing/Tragedy/Narration (A bit vague)
Post your guesses in the comments - there may be a prize for the person with the highest score - no cheating!
So, by way of an apology, I'll finally get around to replying to the Movies Meme as originally seen over at Blissful Bedlam and Erica's Blog.
Here's the thinking behind the Meme: Pick out ten favorite movies, then look them up at www.IMDb.com.
In the overview at the top of each movie’s page, there are "Plot Keywords", usually five of them. (Plus more, if you click the link.) Take the first five, and post them. Then the rest of us get to play movie buff and see if we can guess them.
So here are my movies:
Informer/Tragedy/Growing Up/Rise and Fall/No Opening Credits (That's an easy one to start with)
Bad Guy/Suspect/Line Up/Myth/FBI Agent (That's even easier)
Kennedy Assassination/Child Abuse/Mentally Impaired/Legless Person/Vietnam War Veteran (More of a tough one)
Door Broken Down/Stephen King/Snow/Disturbing/Cannibalism (Far too easy)
Dysfunctional Family/Pepsi/Television/Girl Next Door/Self Fulfillment (Not a hope in hell!)
Martial Arts/Hyperspace/Famous Opening Theme/Galactic War/Computer (A bit confusing, but probably still fairly easy)
1990s/1950s/1960s/Rise and Fall/Marijuana (Good luck!)
Female Sniper/Disturbing/Physical Abuse/Electric Shaver/1960s (What?!)
Long Take/Kiss/Katana Sword/Payback/Blood (I wouldn't have got this one)
Voice Over/Death of Daughter/Disturbing/Tragedy/Narration (A bit vague)
Post your guesses in the comments - there may be a prize for the person with the highest score - no cheating!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Crazy Days
How many of you can say that, in the course of your weekend, you have crashed a go-kart, visited the tomb of your country's most famous son, seen Keith Richards pretending (?) to be a pirate and been peed on by a lion?
I'm guessing I'm the only one who can tick all of THOSE boxes. Stay tuned for more....
I'm guessing I'm the only one who can tick all of THOSE boxes. Stay tuned for more....
Friday, May 25, 2007
Anniversary
Sunday marks the first anniversary of the happy day pictured left, when Miss Fiancee became Mrs Wife.
Though Inveraray was a tad wet on May 27 2006, it was still the happiest day of my life.
Hopefully Gretna will be drier this weekend as we celebrate our anniversary with a weekend away from Angus.
I shall return soon....
Schooled
Teachers aren't allowed to do anything to discipline unruly pupils nowadays. I was fortunate in that I grew up in the post-cane era, so I never experienced the smack of willow on my hand or rear end as a result of my cheek.
But without the threat of corporal punishment, how can teachers control a class of 30 unruly teenagers? To be honest, some of them probably can't.
So is it any surprise that teachers at a school in Kent have resorted to keeping a private journal pointing out the flaws in pupils, primarily for their own entertainment?
Unfortunately for the school involved, someone misplaced the book and it fell into the hands of a member of the public.
This concerned citizen was disturbed to find that it referred to one boy as a "ding bat" who was "away with the fairies", and another as being a "bit of a wally".
Admitedly, the teachers shouldn't have let this book get out of the staff room. But is anyone really surprised that teachers think some pupils are a bit useless?
How many of us in our jobs don't deal with colleagues or customers who we would describe in equally fond terms?
One of my report cards from my final year of high school, when I was 18, said that I was "so laid back, he's almost horizontal". Another from primary school said that if I had devoted as much time to my lessons as I had to working on becoming Rangers' star striker, I'd have enjoyed a more fruitful year.
But hey, at least I cam out the other end a rounded, well-balanced individual (who didn't end up playing up front for Rangers). I wonder if the ding bat or the bit of a wally will do as well?
But without the threat of corporal punishment, how can teachers control a class of 30 unruly teenagers? To be honest, some of them probably can't.
So is it any surprise that teachers at a school in Kent have resorted to keeping a private journal pointing out the flaws in pupils, primarily for their own entertainment?
Unfortunately for the school involved, someone misplaced the book and it fell into the hands of a member of the public.
This concerned citizen was disturbed to find that it referred to one boy as a "ding bat" who was "away with the fairies", and another as being a "bit of a wally".
Admitedly, the teachers shouldn't have let this book get out of the staff room. But is anyone really surprised that teachers think some pupils are a bit useless?
How many of us in our jobs don't deal with colleagues or customers who we would describe in equally fond terms?
One of my report cards from my final year of high school, when I was 18, said that I was "so laid back, he's almost horizontal". Another from primary school said that if I had devoted as much time to my lessons as I had to working on becoming Rangers' star striker, I'd have enjoyed a more fruitful year.
But hey, at least I cam out the other end a rounded, well-balanced individual (who didn't end up playing up front for Rangers). I wonder if the ding bat or the bit of a wally will do as well?
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Monster Bob
Yesterday was Mrs Wife's birthday, so we headed to Montrose's very own Australian-themed restaurant, Roo's Leap, for a celebratory meal.
Roo's is one of my favourite restaurants. The food is always fantastic, and the portions are (big) man-sized.
My usual choice from the Roo's Leap menu is a gargantuan creation called a Monster Bob. The Monster Bob is the emperor of all burgers - two quarter-pound burgers smothered in cheese, bacon, onions and chilli, with a side serving of coleslaw and chips.
Quite simply, the Monster Bob is a burger without equal. In my late teens I was able to clear my plate, but on my three most recent visit to Roo's Leap, I have been struggling.
So I think, as with any sport, I'll just have to practise that little bit harder....
Roo's is one of my favourite restaurants. The food is always fantastic, and the portions are (big) man-sized.
My usual choice from the Roo's Leap menu is a gargantuan creation called a Monster Bob. The Monster Bob is the emperor of all burgers - two quarter-pound burgers smothered in cheese, bacon, onions and chilli, with a side serving of coleslaw and chips.
Quite simply, the Monster Bob is a burger without equal. In my late teens I was able to clear my plate, but on my three most recent visit to Roo's Leap, I have been struggling.
So I think, as with any sport, I'll just have to practise that little bit harder....
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Skye High
Well, the Blogosphere survives to see another day, and I guess that means it's time to recount my trip to Skye for my friend's stag party.
As I previously explained, I'd never been to Skye before, and had no idea what to expect.
Though Skye is an island, it has been linked to the mainland for the past 12 years by a mile-long bridge, which has been toll-free since December 2004.
Anyway, Mrs Wife and I left Montrose around 6pm on Friday evening, with the intention of breaking my journey up with an overnight stay at her parents' home in Oban. The wind was ferocious as we drove through deepest, darkest Perthshire, and our journey wasn't helped when we were diverted along a single track road along the southern bank of Loch Earn. Nonetheless, we arrived in Oban in one piece, albeit tired and cold.
The next morning, I set off alone for Skye, driving through torrential rain most of the way. My only previous journey along a comparable route was on a visit to Fort William when I lived in Oban, so it was a part of the world I was seeing for the first time.
Sometimes, when whole days are spent on Scotland's dual carriageways and in its concrete and fibreglass office blocks, it is easy to forget that in many places, my home country is small but perfectly formed. Passing through Fort William presents a great view of the towering mass of Ben Nevis, its summit snowcapped and swathed in mist even as summer approaches.
The journey also took me across the Connel and Ballachulish bridges, alongside the South Shiel mountain range and past Eilean Donan castle.
Crossing the Skye Bridge, I arrived in Kyleakin just as my fellow stag party members were ready to leave on the minibus to Carbost in the north of the island.Our 15-strong party began a day of solid drinking at around 11.30am, and continued until well after 3am. So, if I tell you that I can't recall the names of all of the pubs that we visited, or even the names of towns and villages, please don't be surprised.
I do know that as well as Carbost, we visited Broadford and Portree before returning to Kyleakin. We watched the first half of the terminally dull FA Cup Final in the clubhouse at Portree Shinty Club, where we were treated to cheese toasties, and the second half in the upstairs bar of a hotel.
We had dinner in another hotel in Portree's town square, and we heard a decent covers band in a pub in Broadford.
I also know that we finished the night in the King Haakon bar in Kyleakin, although I can't remember the name of the bar we visited before that.
And, having exhausted the possible options for drinking in Kyleakin, we were invited to an impromptu house party in a house looking out on Kyleakin pier and the Skye Bridge.
For those seeking details of the nefarious activities of the stag party, I'm afraid my lips are sealed. It is an offence punishable by death to reveal the secrets of the stag....
All I will say is that a tremendous night was had by all, and that I will definitely return to Skye in the future. It's sometimes difficult to believe that so small an island could support so many pubs, let alone so many good pubs where it would be easy to spend whole weeks or years, let alone hours.
The photographs on this post may look a bit rubbish for two reasons: I took them whilst drunk/and/or/hungover and they were taken on a mobile phone. The top one is of a mountain and Portree harbour, the middle one of Eilean Donan castle on the drive home, and the last is the Skye Bridge as seen from the bedroom window of the kind people who gave me a bed for the night in Kyleakin.
Monday, May 21, 2007
This Is The End
I'm back from Skye, and there's the potential for a post or two once I get my thoughts together and download my photos.
But until then, I'll take this opportunity to finally get round to replying to this meme from Chattie Kat over at the Kat House.
Firstly, the premise: If the blogosphere were coming to an end 24 hours from now, what would your final post be? Would you go out with a bang, or as softly as a whisper? Would you say "goodbye and good riddance" and give us the virtual finger? This is your chance to make your mark on the blogosphere. I won't tag anyone - if you do the meme, let me know in the comments to this post and I'll link to your last post.
And secondly, the post:
"Please believe me when i say
This is how it has to end
This is easy on us all
Well, easier than other ways
Sleep is all i ask of you
Sleep and not to wake again
See this through and leave my friend
Tears will come and i will end"
Murder Song, The Cooper Temple Clause
The lyrics above seem to be the most apt way to end what has been an enjoyable stint in this strange world we call the Blogosphere.
I hope that, in the nine months that I've been committing every half-baked idea, barely-coherent rant and general moan that comes into my head to the internet, that some of you weird and wonderful people have gotten something worthwhile from it.
If I've made any of you smile, or provoked a thought in someone's head, then I would consider my job done.
Thanks to those who have taken the time to become regular visitors, your continued efforts to visit this humble site have ensured that I've kept it going, even when it seemed I had nothing left to write.
And to those who first inspired me to begin Groanin' Jock, thank you - I've enjoyed all of your work, and I'm only sorry I couldn't devote more time to reading and writing blogs.
So long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehn, adieu.
The Blogosphere Is Dead - Long Live The Blogosphere.
But until then, I'll take this opportunity to finally get round to replying to this meme from Chattie Kat over at the Kat House.
Firstly, the premise: If the blogosphere were coming to an end 24 hours from now, what would your final post be? Would you go out with a bang, or as softly as a whisper? Would you say "goodbye and good riddance" and give us the virtual finger? This is your chance to make your mark on the blogosphere. I won't tag anyone - if you do the meme, let me know in the comments to this post and I'll link to your last post.
And secondly, the post:
"Please believe me when i say
This is how it has to end
This is easy on us all
Well, easier than other ways
Sleep is all i ask of you
Sleep and not to wake again
See this through and leave my friend
Tears will come and i will end"
Murder Song, The Cooper Temple Clause
The lyrics above seem to be the most apt way to end what has been an enjoyable stint in this strange world we call the Blogosphere.
I hope that, in the nine months that I've been committing every half-baked idea, barely-coherent rant and general moan that comes into my head to the internet, that some of you weird and wonderful people have gotten something worthwhile from it.
If I've made any of you smile, or provoked a thought in someone's head, then I would consider my job done.
Thanks to those who have taken the time to become regular visitors, your continued efforts to visit this humble site have ensured that I've kept it going, even when it seemed I had nothing left to write.
And to those who first inspired me to begin Groanin' Jock, thank you - I've enjoyed all of your work, and I'm only sorry I couldn't devote more time to reading and writing blogs.
So long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehn, adieu.
The Blogosphere Is Dead - Long Live The Blogosphere.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Raging Bull and Scarface
The most exciting news I've heard all year - Robert De Niro and Al Pacino are to make a movie together.
De Niro and Pacino are my two favourite actors, so I'm giddy at the prospect of seeing them on screen together.
Although they were both in the Godfather II, they were never on screen at the same time. And in Heat, they had one short dialogue scene.
But in Righteous Kill, according to co-producer Avi lerner, "In this movie, they are in the whole thing together. This is an event in world history."
It sure is. Let's just hope it's good.
Over The Sea To Skye
This weekend, I will be attending the stag party of a friend from university who is to wed next month in South Africa.
Tomorrow's festivities, which will include a viewing of the ManUre v Lokomotiv London FA Cup Final and will also afford me the opportunity to:
1) Visit Skye for the first time. My friend hails from the Misty Isle. Though Mrs Wife and I have intended on several occasions to cross the bridge to Skye, we've never yet made it. So I'm hoping that my first visit will be blessed with sunshine rather than the more typical mist or rain.
2) Enjoy my third Indian meal in the space of a week. Following the events of Monday night with Eric, and a microwave facsimile last night, I am once again looking forward to taped sitars, garish wallpaper and two days of garlic-flavoured burps.
3) Drink far too much and suffer all the way during the five-hour drive home.
I shall report back soon.....
Tomorrow's festivities, which will include a viewing of the ManUre v Lokomotiv London FA Cup Final and will also afford me the opportunity to:
1) Visit Skye for the first time. My friend hails from the Misty Isle. Though Mrs Wife and I have intended on several occasions to cross the bridge to Skye, we've never yet made it. So I'm hoping that my first visit will be blessed with sunshine rather than the more typical mist or rain.
2) Enjoy my third Indian meal in the space of a week. Following the events of Monday night with Eric, and a microwave facsimile last night, I am once again looking forward to taped sitars, garish wallpaper and two days of garlic-flavoured burps.
3) Drink far too much and suffer all the way during the five-hour drive home.
I shall report back soon.....
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Last Night A DJ Saved My Life
As seen over at The Tomahawk Kid's site: The 100 Most Important Records of All Time
Mojo magazine recruited a panel of musicians to nominate the records that moved the earth for them and published the top 100, which I have reproduced below.
In the style of the 100 Books meme, copy the list to your own blog, bold or highlight the records you have in your collection or your iTunes library, then add a record that changed your life that didn't make the list. After you've finished come back and leave a comment, it would also be nice if you linked back to here from your post.
100 Gnarls Barkley : Crazy : single
99 The Stone Roses : The Stone Roses : album
98 Iron Maiden : Iron Maiden : album
97 Television : Marquee Moon : album
96 Donna Summer : I Feel Love : single
95 Green Day : Dookie : album
94 The Libertines : Up The Bracket : album
93 Nina Simone : To Be Young Gifted & Black : single
92 The Strokes : Is This It : album
91 Louis Armstrong & His Hot Five : West End Blues : single
90 Phuture : Acid Tracks : single
89 Oasis : Definitely Maybe : album
88 Queen : Sheer Heart Attack : album
87 Radiohead : The Bends : album
86 The Animals : The House Of The Rising Sun : single
85 Sonic Youth : EVOL : album
84 The Shadows : Apache : single
83 The Cure : Pornography : album
82 The Jesus & Mary Chain : Psychocandy : album
81 The Band : Music From The Big Pink : album
80 The Smiths : This Charming Man : single
79 Pixies : Surfer Rosa : album
78 Nick Drake : Five Leaves Left : album
77 Gang Of Four : Entertainment! : album
76 Big Youth : Screaming Target : album
75 R.E.M. : Murmur : album
74 Carole King : Tapestry : album
73 T. Rex : Get It On (Bang A Gong) : single
72 Bruce Springsteen : Born To Run : album
71 Public Image Ltd : Public Image : album
70 The Kingsmen : Louie Louie : single
69 MC5 : Kick Out The Jams : album
68 Brian Eno : Discreet Music : album
67 Billie Holiday : Strange Fruit : single
66 Love : Love : album
65 Joni Mitchell : Blue : album
64 David Bowie : Low : album
63 Marvin Gaye : What's Going On : album
62 Can : Tago Mago : album
61 N.W.A. : Straight Outta Compton : album
60 John Coltrane : My Favourite Things : album
59 The Upsetters : Blackboard Jungle Dub : album
58 Fairport Convention : Liege & Leif : album
57 The Byrds : Sweetheart Of The Rodeo : album
56 Pink Floyd : Arnold Layne : single
55 John Lennon : John Lennon : Plastic Ono Band : album
54 Chic : Good Times : single
53 Neil Young : Everyone Knows This Is Nowhere : album
52 Buddy Holly : That'll Be The Day : single
51 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band : Trout Mask Replica : album
50 Stevie Wonder : Innervisions : album
49 The Doors : The Doors : album
48 The Rolling Stones : Sympathy For The Devil : album track
47 Sam Cooke : You Send Me : single
46 Joy Division : Unknown Pleasures : album
45 The Ronettes : Be My Baby : single
44 The Who : My Generation : single
43 Miles Davis : Kind Of Blue : album
42 Various : Nuggets : album
41 Link Wray : Rumble : single
40 The Beatles : Revolver : album
39 New York Dolls : New York Dolls : album
38 Lonnie Donegan : Rock Island Line : single
37 Jeff Buckley : Grace : album
36 The Stooges : Fun House : album
35 Davy Graham With Alexis Korner : 3/4AD : EP
34 Bob Marley & The Wailers : Exodus : album
33 Michael Jackson : Thriller : album
32 Jimmie Rodgers : Blue Yodel #1 (T For Texas) : single
31 David Bowie : The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars : album
30 Hank Williams : Move It On Over : single
29 Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five : The Message : single
28 Patti Smith : Horses : album
27 Nirvana : Smells Like Teen Spirit : single
26 Charlie Parker : Koko : single
25 Black Sabbath : Black Sabbath : album
24 The Clash : London Calling : album
23 Howlin' Wolf : The Rocking Chair Album : album
22 Ramones : Ramones : album
21 The Beach Boys : Pet Sounds : album
20 Led Zeppelin : IV : album
19 The Rolling Stones : (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction : single
18 Aretha Franklin : I Never Loved A Man The Way I Love You : album
17 Bob Dylan : Like A Rolling Stone : single
16 The Beatles : Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band : album
15 James Brown : Papa's Got A Brand New Bag : single
14 The Jimi Hendrix Experience : Purple Haze : single
13 Woody Guthrie : Dust Bowl Ballads : album
12 Chuck Berry : Johnny B. Goode : single
11 Frank Sinatra : In The Wee Small Hours : album
10 Sex Pistols : God Save The Queen : single
9 Ray Charles : What'd I Say : single
8 Various : Anthology Of American Folk Music : album
7 The Velvet Underground And Nico : The Velvet Underground : album
6 Robert Johnson : King Of The Delta Blues Singers : album
5 Kraftwerk : Autobahn : album
4 Bob Dylan : The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan : album
3 Elvis Presley : Heartbreak Hotel : single
2 The Beatles : I Want To Hold Your Hand : single
1 Little Richard : Tutti Frutti : single
There are a few records that have changed my life that don't appear in this list, including the Super Furry Animals' second album Radiator and The Beatles' White Album. But I think I'd have to choose I Am The Walrus by The Beatles.
I first became aware of the track by means of Oasis' cover when I was around 16, and asked a friend to put the original on a cassette for me.
I would listen to it over and over again, rewinding and replaying the tape so much that it eventually wore out. Even now, there's no other track that sounds like it - the unusual arrangement, the swooping strings, John Lennon's gibberish lyrics, the incorporation of cut up pieces of radio dialogue and the way it practically stops before starting afresh. It showed me that, 30 years before I started listening to music, The Beatles were already light years ahead of the cream of Britpop.
Mojo magazine recruited a panel of musicians to nominate the records that moved the earth for them and published the top 100, which I have reproduced below.
In the style of the 100 Books meme, copy the list to your own blog, bold or highlight the records you have in your collection or your iTunes library, then add a record that changed your life that didn't make the list. After you've finished come back and leave a comment, it would also be nice if you linked back to here from your post.
100 Gnarls Barkley : Crazy : single
99 The Stone Roses : The Stone Roses : album
98 Iron Maiden : Iron Maiden : album
97 Television : Marquee Moon : album
96 Donna Summer : I Feel Love : single
95 Green Day : Dookie : album
94 The Libertines : Up The Bracket : album
93 Nina Simone : To Be Young Gifted & Black : single
92 The Strokes : Is This It : album
91 Louis Armstrong & His Hot Five : West End Blues : single
90 Phuture : Acid Tracks : single
89 Oasis : Definitely Maybe : album
88 Queen : Sheer Heart Attack : album
87 Radiohead : The Bends : album
86 The Animals : The House Of The Rising Sun : single
85 Sonic Youth : EVOL : album
84 The Shadows : Apache : single
83 The Cure : Pornography : album
82 The Jesus & Mary Chain : Psychocandy : album
81 The Band : Music From The Big Pink : album
80 The Smiths : This Charming Man : single
79 Pixies : Surfer Rosa : album
78 Nick Drake : Five Leaves Left : album
77 Gang Of Four : Entertainment! : album
76 Big Youth : Screaming Target : album
75 R.E.M. : Murmur : album
74 Carole King : Tapestry : album
73 T. Rex : Get It On (Bang A Gong) : single
72 Bruce Springsteen : Born To Run : album
71 Public Image Ltd : Public Image : album
70 The Kingsmen : Louie Louie : single
69 MC5 : Kick Out The Jams : album
68 Brian Eno : Discreet Music : album
67 Billie Holiday : Strange Fruit : single
66 Love : Love : album
65 Joni Mitchell : Blue : album
64 David Bowie : Low : album
63 Marvin Gaye : What's Going On : album
62 Can : Tago Mago : album
61 N.W.A. : Straight Outta Compton : album
60 John Coltrane : My Favourite Things : album
59 The Upsetters : Blackboard Jungle Dub : album
58 Fairport Convention : Liege & Leif : album
57 The Byrds : Sweetheart Of The Rodeo : album
56 Pink Floyd : Arnold Layne : single
55 John Lennon : John Lennon : Plastic Ono Band : album
54 Chic : Good Times : single
53 Neil Young : Everyone Knows This Is Nowhere : album
52 Buddy Holly : That'll Be The Day : single
51 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band : Trout Mask Replica : album
50 Stevie Wonder : Innervisions : album
49 The Doors : The Doors : album
48 The Rolling Stones : Sympathy For The Devil : album track
47 Sam Cooke : You Send Me : single
46 Joy Division : Unknown Pleasures : album
45 The Ronettes : Be My Baby : single
44 The Who : My Generation : single
43 Miles Davis : Kind Of Blue : album
42 Various : Nuggets : album
41 Link Wray : Rumble : single
40 The Beatles : Revolver : album
39 New York Dolls : New York Dolls : album
38 Lonnie Donegan : Rock Island Line : single
37 Jeff Buckley : Grace : album
36 The Stooges : Fun House : album
35 Davy Graham With Alexis Korner : 3/4AD : EP
34 Bob Marley & The Wailers : Exodus : album
33 Michael Jackson : Thriller : album
32 Jimmie Rodgers : Blue Yodel #1 (T For Texas) : single
31 David Bowie : The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars : album
30 Hank Williams : Move It On Over : single
29 Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five : The Message : single
28 Patti Smith : Horses : album
27 Nirvana : Smells Like Teen Spirit : single
26 Charlie Parker : Koko : single
25 Black Sabbath : Black Sabbath : album
24 The Clash : London Calling : album
23 Howlin' Wolf : The Rocking Chair Album : album
22 Ramones : Ramones : album
21 The Beach Boys : Pet Sounds : album
20 Led Zeppelin : IV : album
19 The Rolling Stones : (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction : single
18 Aretha Franklin : I Never Loved A Man The Way I Love You : album
17 Bob Dylan : Like A Rolling Stone : single
16 The Beatles : Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band : album
15 James Brown : Papa's Got A Brand New Bag : single
14 The Jimi Hendrix Experience : Purple Haze : single
13 Woody Guthrie : Dust Bowl Ballads : album
12 Chuck Berry : Johnny B. Goode : single
11 Frank Sinatra : In The Wee Small Hours : album
10 Sex Pistols : God Save The Queen : single
9 Ray Charles : What'd I Say : single
8 Various : Anthology Of American Folk Music : album
7 The Velvet Underground And Nico : The Velvet Underground : album
6 Robert Johnson : King Of The Delta Blues Singers : album
5 Kraftwerk : Autobahn : album
4 Bob Dylan : The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan : album
3 Elvis Presley : Heartbreak Hotel : single
2 The Beatles : I Want To Hold Your Hand : single
1 Little Richard : Tutti Frutti : single
There are a few records that have changed my life that don't appear in this list, including the Super Furry Animals' second album Radiator and The Beatles' White Album. But I think I'd have to choose I Am The Walrus by The Beatles.
I first became aware of the track by means of Oasis' cover when I was around 16, and asked a friend to put the original on a cassette for me.
I would listen to it over and over again, rewinding and replaying the tape so much that it eventually wore out. Even now, there's no other track that sounds like it - the unusual arrangement, the swooping strings, John Lennon's gibberish lyrics, the incorporation of cut up pieces of radio dialogue and the way it practically stops before starting afresh. It showed me that, 30 years before I started listening to music, The Beatles were already light years ahead of the cream of Britpop.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Straight White Guys
I'm fighting off tiredness as I write this post.
Last night was spent eating, drinking and making merry with the Straight White Guy at Montrose's fine Indian Cottage.
As I've mentioned on these hallowed pages in the past, I've known Eric since my late teens, when I spent a week's work experience as his assistant.
I mentioned that he introduced me to the wonderful music of Stevie Ray Vaughan and that I bore witness to his prodigious capacity to demolish McDonald's food.
Eric was also the first, and to date only, person ever to attempt to cure one of my hangovers with Goldschlager, which isn't so much a favour as a punishment.
Anyway, last night afforded Eric and I the opportunity to catch up, eat too much Indian food (including the garlic cheese naan, a wondrous foodstuff previously unknown to Groanin' Jock and Mrs Wife, but now very likely to feature in all subsequent trips to the Indian) and drink too much beer.
Which should go some way to explaining why I'm now battling against sleep whilst feeling a tad sensitive.
I'm pretty certain that all present had a great evening, and in my case it represented a first 'blog meet'....of sorts.
As it was reading his ramblings that first set me on the road to blogging, that makes Eric my blogfather. Which seemed to take him by surprise, although this mild shock was quickly offset by consumption of several pints of Cobra lager.
(For those who are new to these parts, in the photograph above, I'm the drunk one in the dark shirt, draped around Eric's neck like some hideous scarf and displaying the fact that I have more chins than a Chinese phone directory. Unfortunately, the camera never lies....)
Monday, May 14, 2007
Does Whatever A Spider Can
Apparently, Spiderman 3 is the most expensive movie ever made.
More expensive than Steven Spielberg's animatronic dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, more costly than James Cameron sinking the Titanic, and more pricey than every other summer blockbuster ever committed to celluloid.
Mrs Wife and I went to see the movie on Sunday. To be honest, I hadn't been blown away by either of the prequels. They're perfectly passable films, but they just didn't grab me in the same way that the first couple of Batman films did, or in the way that the X Men trilogy has done.
I think the problem is characterisation - Batman and X Men both revolve around the unhinged personalities behind the spandex and leather boots.
Lest we forget, Batman doesn't even have any superpowers - he's just a rich psycho in bondage gear. And Wolverine is clearly hard as nails.
But Spiderman - he's just a scrawny college kid with some neat gymnastic moves and a web slinger.
So I was hoping that the latest installment of the Spiderman series would live up to the hype. The trailers suggested a darker, more violent, storyline. And, to some extent, it delivered.
The intergalactic goop that crash lands on Earth was cool. And the new, edgier Spiderman was also pretty interesting.
But I just have trouble associating Tobey Maguire with a superhero - he looks like a scrawny little college kid. This may be ideal for playing Peter Parker, but doesn't cut it as Spiderman. Clark Kent may be a geek, but that's just a disguise - he's still Superman. And as for Topher Grace as Venom.....my opinions on that are best kept to myself.
So, the most expensive movie of all time? Yeah, you can see how - most of the film is taken up with fast-moving special effects.
The plot? Certainly a step forward from the disappointing second movie.
But Spiderman 3 doesn't really bear comparison with the heavyweights in the super hero movie stakes.
Although it was at least better than Hulk.
More expensive than Steven Spielberg's animatronic dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, more costly than James Cameron sinking the Titanic, and more pricey than every other summer blockbuster ever committed to celluloid.
Mrs Wife and I went to see the movie on Sunday. To be honest, I hadn't been blown away by either of the prequels. They're perfectly passable films, but they just didn't grab me in the same way that the first couple of Batman films did, or in the way that the X Men trilogy has done.
I think the problem is characterisation - Batman and X Men both revolve around the unhinged personalities behind the spandex and leather boots.
Lest we forget, Batman doesn't even have any superpowers - he's just a rich psycho in bondage gear. And Wolverine is clearly hard as nails.
But Spiderman - he's just a scrawny college kid with some neat gymnastic moves and a web slinger.
So I was hoping that the latest installment of the Spiderman series would live up to the hype. The trailers suggested a darker, more violent, storyline. And, to some extent, it delivered.
The intergalactic goop that crash lands on Earth was cool. And the new, edgier Spiderman was also pretty interesting.
But I just have trouble associating Tobey Maguire with a superhero - he looks like a scrawny little college kid. This may be ideal for playing Peter Parker, but doesn't cut it as Spiderman. Clark Kent may be a geek, but that's just a disguise - he's still Superman. And as for Topher Grace as Venom.....my opinions on that are best kept to myself.
So, the most expensive movie of all time? Yeah, you can see how - most of the film is taken up with fast-moving special effects.
The plot? Certainly a step forward from the disappointing second movie.
But Spiderman 3 doesn't really bear comparison with the heavyweights in the super hero movie stakes.
Although it was at least better than Hulk.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
On The Tiles
Well rubberneckers, seems I have a hot date.
Eric, the heterosexual caucasian male, is in my new hometown for a few days, and drinks could well be on the horizon.
Those of you who have visited his site at Straight White Guy will be aware that he is partial to a drop of single malt, so I may well be joining him in sampling some of Scotland's finest produce.
...Wish me luck ladies and gentlemen...that stuff produces almighty hangovers...
Eric, the heterosexual caucasian male, is in my new hometown for a few days, and drinks could well be on the horizon.
Those of you who have visited his site at Straight White Guy will be aware that he is partial to a drop of single malt, so I may well be joining him in sampling some of Scotland's finest produce.
...Wish me luck ladies and gentlemen...that stuff produces almighty hangovers...
Friday, May 11, 2007
Slippers and Cocoa
Am I middle-aged if I am happy that my weekend holds nothing more exciting than a haircut and Spiderman 3 at the cinema?
Not so long ago, I would be out twice a week, in Edinburgh's clubs until 3am and rarely in bed before 4am.
But nowadays, 6am is when I get up for work, not when I head for bed after a weekend of partying.
That's not strictly true - next weekend I'll be in Skye for a stag night, and in June I'll be in Dublin for a wedding party before hosting our own housewarming soiree.
But those nights are now the exception rather than the norm.
Which is just as well, as I don't think my body or bank balance would cope if I was out twice a week nowadays.
Not so long ago, I would be out twice a week, in Edinburgh's clubs until 3am and rarely in bed before 4am.
But nowadays, 6am is when I get up for work, not when I head for bed after a weekend of partying.
That's not strictly true - next weekend I'll be in Skye for a stag night, and in June I'll be in Dublin for a wedding party before hosting our own housewarming soiree.
But those nights are now the exception rather than the norm.
Which is just as well, as I don't think my body or bank balance would cope if I was out twice a week nowadays.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Ta-Ta Tony
Finally, after 10 years of his gormless grin, sweaty shirts and smarmy style, Tony Blair has announced the date when he will resign as Prime Minister.
I am no fan of Blair. In fact, in my list of irritating people, he is probably second from the top behind Gillian McKeith (if you don't know who she is, you're lucky. But you can Google her.)
When Blair became Prime Minister, I was still at school, Princess Diana was still alive and Rangers were the champions of Scotland. I don't think that TB (how apt that his initials are the same as those of a fatal disease) was responsible for my aging, Diana's death or Rangers' decline, but he can be held accountable for a lot of things.
My student days were made a lot harder when Blair's government, all of whom enjoyed a free university education, decided to abolish student grants and replace them with loans.
On a very personal level, this is the Blair government's single biggest effect on my life. House prices and interest rates may have risen and the cost of living may be higher in general, but these things would probably have happened anyway. Blair and his cabinet made the decision to charge people for the privilege of enjoying higher education, and that is something I have never been able to forgive.
One of the joys of being British is that everyone is giving a chance to do the best they can, but stripping student grants added pitfalls to what was previously a level playing field.
Nonetheless, Blair is most likely to be remembered for his actions in peace and war. His time as Prime Minister has seen the unthinkable happen in Northern Ireland, with Unionists and Republicans sharing office, setting down their weapons and attempting to forge a better future in the province. A critic of Blair's I may be, but this development should rank as his greatest achievement.
However, his actions in leading Britain into Afghanistan and Iraq will serve as the permanent legacy of his time in charge. By throwing his hat in the ring with Bush, Tony lost a lot of friends, both at home and overseas, and a lot of voters. Even now, in polling booths across the country, voters who had previously backed Blair and his New Labour have deserted him in their thousands.
Whether the war was right or not is a debate that has been done to death. Stating that the war in Iraq was in response to proof that Saddam Hussein had, or was planning to build, weapons of mass destruction, was the wrong tack to take. Had Blair said from the outset: "Saddam's an asshole, he's killing people in Iraq and we want to free the Iraqis from his tyranny", he might have found more support coming his way.
The most disturbing aspect of Blair resigning as Prime Minister is that Gordon Brown is his replacement-in-waiting. Blair may be a smarmy, soundbite-driven snake, but he certainly has charisma. Brown, on the other hand, is as dour as can be imaginable. I don't for a minute think that politicians should be elected solely on their abilities in front of the camera, but what Brown makes up in political nous, he certainly lacks in flair.
Are we on the verge of a better time? Or will we look back on Blair's decade in charge as a comparitive golden era? Only hindsight will tell.
I am no fan of Blair. In fact, in my list of irritating people, he is probably second from the top behind Gillian McKeith (if you don't know who she is, you're lucky. But you can Google her.)
When Blair became Prime Minister, I was still at school, Princess Diana was still alive and Rangers were the champions of Scotland. I don't think that TB (how apt that his initials are the same as those of a fatal disease) was responsible for my aging, Diana's death or Rangers' decline, but he can be held accountable for a lot of things.
My student days were made a lot harder when Blair's government, all of whom enjoyed a free university education, decided to abolish student grants and replace them with loans.
On a very personal level, this is the Blair government's single biggest effect on my life. House prices and interest rates may have risen and the cost of living may be higher in general, but these things would probably have happened anyway. Blair and his cabinet made the decision to charge people for the privilege of enjoying higher education, and that is something I have never been able to forgive.
One of the joys of being British is that everyone is giving a chance to do the best they can, but stripping student grants added pitfalls to what was previously a level playing field.
Nonetheless, Blair is most likely to be remembered for his actions in peace and war. His time as Prime Minister has seen the unthinkable happen in Northern Ireland, with Unionists and Republicans sharing office, setting down their weapons and attempting to forge a better future in the province. A critic of Blair's I may be, but this development should rank as his greatest achievement.
However, his actions in leading Britain into Afghanistan and Iraq will serve as the permanent legacy of his time in charge. By throwing his hat in the ring with Bush, Tony lost a lot of friends, both at home and overseas, and a lot of voters. Even now, in polling booths across the country, voters who had previously backed Blair and his New Labour have deserted him in their thousands.
Whether the war was right or not is a debate that has been done to death. Stating that the war in Iraq was in response to proof that Saddam Hussein had, or was planning to build, weapons of mass destruction, was the wrong tack to take. Had Blair said from the outset: "Saddam's an asshole, he's killing people in Iraq and we want to free the Iraqis from his tyranny", he might have found more support coming his way.
The most disturbing aspect of Blair resigning as Prime Minister is that Gordon Brown is his replacement-in-waiting. Blair may be a smarmy, soundbite-driven snake, but he certainly has charisma. Brown, on the other hand, is as dour as can be imaginable. I don't for a minute think that politicians should be elected solely on their abilities in front of the camera, but what Brown makes up in political nous, he certainly lacks in flair.
Are we on the verge of a better time? Or will we look back on Blair's decade in charge as a comparitive golden era? Only hindsight will tell.
Visual DNA
Whilst checking out some of my favourite blogs this afternoon, I was intrigued by a link on Blue Sloth's page.
Over at Imagini, you're asked to choose images from a series that appears on screen, which is then used to build a personality profile, known as your Visual DNA
I must admit, I was sceptical at first, but my effort, seen above, managed pretty well to nail me.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Apathy Only Ruined Me
One of my favourite lyricists is Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals. His native language is Welsh, which may be why his lyrics tend to differ from those written by songsmiths whose first tongue is English.
To my mind, the band peaked in 1997 and 1998 with the release of the album Radiator and the Ice Hockey Hair EP.
The track Hermann Loves Pauline, which first appeared on Radiator, explores the life and times of Albert Einstein. The opening verse sets the tone:
Hermann loved Pauline
And Pauline loved Hermann
They made love and gave birth
To a little German
They called him MC squared
Because he rapped like no other
An asthma sufferer
Like Ernesto Guevara
I don't think I'll ever hear another song that manages to namecheck Einstein, Che Guevara and Marie Curie, Monte Cristo cigars and Ventolin inhalers.
Another favourite is Demons:
Clarity just confuses me
The lines drawn on a map, a strange assembly
When there's northeners in southeners
And westenders in Eastenders
And sunny days in January
Left spaces in my diary
But the demons never need to know
What the demons never got to see
As we fall in and out of line
Stay in touch now for a while
Cos I know that apathy only ruined me
Hanging around waiting for calamity
And by the year four million
Our skins will be vermilion
I own a dartboard memory
So I'll forget any felony
But the demons never need to know
What the demons never got to see
As we fall in and out of line
Stay in touch now for a while
Cos I know that you know
That we know they don't know what's going on
But the demons never need to know
What the demons never got to see
As we fall in and out of line
Stay in touch now for a while
But the demons never need to read
What we never got around to write
A flirt with mediocrity comes with a heavy penalty
Cos I know that you know
That we know they don't know what's going on...
But my single favourite Gruff Rhys lyric is from Download, the penultimate song on Radiator:
There are people who think, and people who don't
And the people who don't are the ones who have most
There are people who lie, and others who'll cry
And the people who lie are the ones that get by
In the corporate rush to devour the new
We'll be losing our friends who will number but few
Position yourself on another man's cruise
One to share, the other to choose
No other lyric writer I've heard better encapsulates the stark realities of the modern corporate world than Gruff Rhys does on this track. Though the Super Furry Animals have continued to push the boundaries of indie music, welding electro beats, Beach Boys harmonies and scuzzy punk together, they've never again reached the same levels they did on Radiator, which is a musical and lyrical treat, and as good an album as I have ever heard.
To my mind, the band peaked in 1997 and 1998 with the release of the album Radiator and the Ice Hockey Hair EP.
The track Hermann Loves Pauline, which first appeared on Radiator, explores the life and times of Albert Einstein. The opening verse sets the tone:
Hermann loved Pauline
And Pauline loved Hermann
They made love and gave birth
To a little German
They called him MC squared
Because he rapped like no other
An asthma sufferer
Like Ernesto Guevara
I don't think I'll ever hear another song that manages to namecheck Einstein, Che Guevara and Marie Curie, Monte Cristo cigars and Ventolin inhalers.
Another favourite is Demons:
Clarity just confuses me
The lines drawn on a map, a strange assembly
When there's northeners in southeners
And westenders in Eastenders
And sunny days in January
Left spaces in my diary
But the demons never need to know
What the demons never got to see
As we fall in and out of line
Stay in touch now for a while
Cos I know that apathy only ruined me
Hanging around waiting for calamity
And by the year four million
Our skins will be vermilion
I own a dartboard memory
So I'll forget any felony
But the demons never need to know
What the demons never got to see
As we fall in and out of line
Stay in touch now for a while
Cos I know that you know
That we know they don't know what's going on
But the demons never need to know
What the demons never got to see
As we fall in and out of line
Stay in touch now for a while
But the demons never need to read
What we never got around to write
A flirt with mediocrity comes with a heavy penalty
Cos I know that you know
That we know they don't know what's going on...
But my single favourite Gruff Rhys lyric is from Download, the penultimate song on Radiator:
There are people who think, and people who don't
And the people who don't are the ones who have most
There are people who lie, and others who'll cry
And the people who lie are the ones that get by
In the corporate rush to devour the new
We'll be losing our friends who will number but few
Position yourself on another man's cruise
One to share, the other to choose
No other lyric writer I've heard better encapsulates the stark realities of the modern corporate world than Gruff Rhys does on this track. Though the Super Furry Animals have continued to push the boundaries of indie music, welding electro beats, Beach Boys harmonies and scuzzy punk together, they've never again reached the same levels they did on Radiator, which is a musical and lyrical treat, and as good an album as I have ever heard.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Waste
It's easy to forget, in this era of the Supersize Big Mac Meal and the Kingsize Mars Bar, that food in Britain was rationed less than 60 years ago.
For people of my generation, Thatcher's Children, a life where you can't eat whatever you want, whenever you want, is unthinkable.
It wasn't actually food that got me thinking along these lines. One day, whilst out walking in the Bruntsfield area of Edinburgh, I came across a balloon shop. As the name suggests, this was an emporium that stocked only balloons and related parephenalia And it struck me that life in Britain has progressed pretty fast in the last 60 years - from a country where meat, eggs and cheese were rationed, to one where we need a shop exclusively to sell balloons.
I can see vast differences in attitudes between my grandparents' generation and mine, with my parents' generation somewhere between the two. My grandparents would carefully manage their finances, down to the last penny. If something wasn't essential, it wasn't purchased. Household items were repaired, often many times.
My generation is almost the complete opposite. If you can't afford something, buy it anyway and rack up huge credit card bills and overdrafts in the process. If something breaks, buy a new one.
Our society in the west today seems to be geared towards the short term. How can it make sense that it costs more to repair a broken kettle than it does to buy a new one?
The recent Channel Four programme The Human Footprint showed in stark terms how wasteful we Brits are. As well as showing how much urine and vomit we produce in our lifetime, it also said that most of us will get through four televisions and nine DVD players.
The programme's website also has a nifty calculator, which told me that I've probably now consumed 291 tins of baked beans (probably more in my case - I was a student for four years), that I've had 36,011 dreams and bought 183 books.
And it came in short on the number of mobile phones I've had - it suggested six, when in fact I'm on my seventh. In fact, there are now more mobile phones in Britain than there are people.
If anything points at how wasteful a race we are it's that.
For people of my generation, Thatcher's Children, a life where you can't eat whatever you want, whenever you want, is unthinkable.
It wasn't actually food that got me thinking along these lines. One day, whilst out walking in the Bruntsfield area of Edinburgh, I came across a balloon shop. As the name suggests, this was an emporium that stocked only balloons and related parephenalia And it struck me that life in Britain has progressed pretty fast in the last 60 years - from a country where meat, eggs and cheese were rationed, to one where we need a shop exclusively to sell balloons.
I can see vast differences in attitudes between my grandparents' generation and mine, with my parents' generation somewhere between the two. My grandparents would carefully manage their finances, down to the last penny. If something wasn't essential, it wasn't purchased. Household items were repaired, often many times.
My generation is almost the complete opposite. If you can't afford something, buy it anyway and rack up huge credit card bills and overdrafts in the process. If something breaks, buy a new one.
Our society in the west today seems to be geared towards the short term. How can it make sense that it costs more to repair a broken kettle than it does to buy a new one?
The recent Channel Four programme The Human Footprint showed in stark terms how wasteful we Brits are. As well as showing how much urine and vomit we produce in our lifetime, it also said that most of us will get through four televisions and nine DVD players.
The programme's website also has a nifty calculator, which told me that I've probably now consumed 291 tins of baked beans (probably more in my case - I was a student for four years), that I've had 36,011 dreams and bought 183 books.
And it came in short on the number of mobile phones I've had - it suggested six, when in fact I'm on my seventh. In fact, there are now more mobile phones in Britain than there are people.
If anything points at how wasteful a race we are it's that.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Scotia's Joy and Pride
Today is a Bank Holiday in Aberdeen, so I have been spared the hour-long commute to the Granite City.Unfortunately, this does not mean that I am spared a day of work. Mrs Wife and I spent Saturday in Edinburgh shopping for new furniture that is due to be delivered today. All of this furniture, consisting of a new bed, two bedside cabinets, two chests of drawers and a desk, is flat-packed and designed to be built at home.
So this afternoon will be consumed in a flurry of allen keys, odd-shaped pieces of wood and a mismatching number of nuts and bolts.
Although a certain percentage of the weekend was spent trailing the soul-sapping aisles of Ikea, it was not a complete write-off. I made it to a comfortable Edinburgh hostelry to watch Rangers dominate the final Old Firm match of the season, providing more than a glimmer of hope for the next campaign.
I bolstered my CD collection by a further three albums, and spent a lazy afternoon lying in Princes Street Gardens enjoying the sun.
On a sunny day, Princes Street Gardens is one of my favourite places on the planet. Like Central Park in New York, there is something satisfying about sitting in the peace and quiet in the sunshine, knowing that the city goes about its business just yards away. And even NYC can't boast a view of Edinburgh Castle.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Political Power
Today it seems as though nothing is happening and that, conversely, everything is happening.
With each passing minute, the result from another constituency is announced, bringing us closer to a result from the closest Scottish election yet. But with each passing minute, as the result from another constituency is announced, neither Labour nor the SNP is showing any signs of gaining a majority in the Scottish Executive.
As I write this, Labour has won 37 seats in the Wee Parliament, the SNP 34, and the Liberal Democrats 12. Which means that, once again, the Liberals are the party with the real power.
If you'll excuse what may be a disturbing image for a moment, Scottish Liberal Democrats leader Nicol Stephen has the choice of jumping into bed with Jack McConnell or with Alex Salmond. With McConnell, he knows what to expect; they've been together before and have enjoyed a fairly steady relationship thus far.
But Alex represents a new and untested bedfellow, who is promising an exciting future as one of the founding fathers of an independent Scotland.
So, it's up to the Liberals - stay in the steady marriage or opt for the exciting affair. Who'd've thunk Scottish politics could be so tempestuous?
With each passing minute, the result from another constituency is announced, bringing us closer to a result from the closest Scottish election yet. But with each passing minute, as the result from another constituency is announced, neither Labour nor the SNP is showing any signs of gaining a majority in the Scottish Executive.
As I write this, Labour has won 37 seats in the Wee Parliament, the SNP 34, and the Liberal Democrats 12. Which means that, once again, the Liberals are the party with the real power.
If you'll excuse what may be a disturbing image for a moment, Scottish Liberal Democrats leader Nicol Stephen has the choice of jumping into bed with Jack McConnell or with Alex Salmond. With McConnell, he knows what to expect; they've been together before and have enjoyed a fairly steady relationship thus far.
But Alex represents a new and untested bedfellow, who is promising an exciting future as one of the founding fathers of an independent Scotland.
So, it's up to the Liberals - stay in the steady marriage or opt for the exciting affair. Who'd've thunk Scottish politics could be so tempestuous?
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Election Time
Well, today is election day here in Scotland, and the poll is, according to the media, too close to call.
We may be on the verge of witnessing Labour lose a Scottish election for the first time in my lifetime, and the Scottish National Party move from opposition to government in their place.
Personally, I'd rather see Scotland stay in the Union than take the road to independence, but it seems that nationalism's popularity is at an all-time high.
The SNP won't be getting my vote, but there will be at least one benefit to me if they get in - they're proposing to wipe out the student loan debts of all Scots.
I'll be eagerly awaiting the results tomorrow morning - when Scotland could be about to make political history.
We may be on the verge of witnessing Labour lose a Scottish election for the first time in my lifetime, and the Scottish National Party move from opposition to government in their place.
Personally, I'd rather see Scotland stay in the Union than take the road to independence, but it seems that nationalism's popularity is at an all-time high.
The SNP won't be getting my vote, but there will be at least one benefit to me if they get in - they're proposing to wipe out the student loan debts of all Scots.
I'll be eagerly awaiting the results tomorrow morning - when Scotland could be about to make political history.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Tomahawk Chop
It's come to my attention that I have, as yet, neglected to promote the work of The Tomahawk Kid, a fellow Aberdeen resident who shares my love of good music, good football (discounting his strange obsession with Dumbarton) and the strange world in which we live.
They say that great minds think alike, and it was demonstrated astutely this afternoon when he also posted on the shit curry story.
I recommend that if you want a laugh, you check out this post on parenthood.
They say that great minds think alike, and it was demonstrated astutely this afternoon when he also posted on the shit curry story.
I recommend that if you want a laugh, you check out this post on parenthood.
This Curry Tastes Like Shit
Beware, gentlemen. No longer are scorned spouses satisfied with hefty divorce settlements.
One woman in Scotland decided that the best way to exact revenge on her husband as their marriage collapsed was to feed him a curry containing dog excrement.
Jill Martin is one seriously disturbed woman: "At first she claimed she had laced the dish with arsenic but then confessed she had added dog excrement instead. The court heard that the couple had been married for 21 years but in recent years their relationship "had hit an all time low"."
Geez - imagine being told that you were wolfing down arsenic, only to be told instead that it was dog shit. Would you be relieved?
I have had some shit meals in my time, but I have never eaten excrement (or never knowingly anyway). And I'm sure that Mr Martin thought he'd get through his three score years and ten without that experience as well.
I'm not sure what Mrs Martin's punishment should be - maybe she should finish the curry?
One woman in Scotland decided that the best way to exact revenge on her husband as their marriage collapsed was to feed him a curry containing dog excrement.
Jill Martin is one seriously disturbed woman: "At first she claimed she had laced the dish with arsenic but then confessed she had added dog excrement instead. The court heard that the couple had been married for 21 years but in recent years their relationship "had hit an all time low"."
Geez - imagine being told that you were wolfing down arsenic, only to be told instead that it was dog shit. Would you be relieved?
I have had some shit meals in my time, but I have never eaten excrement (or never knowingly anyway). And I'm sure that Mr Martin thought he'd get through his three score years and ten without that experience as well.
I'm not sure what Mrs Martin's punishment should be - maybe she should finish the curry?
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
I Am The Music Man
I listen to music every day, and I suppose in many ways it defines my moods. If not, my moods certainly define my choice of music for the day.
But can the Magic Tune Box pick up on my moods and define me whilst set to shuffle? I spotted this little quiz over at Blissful Bedlam and again at Walrilla's Wonderings and thought I'd give it a go.
INSTRUCTIONS:
1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn’t make sense. NO CHEATING
How do you feel today? Imagine - John Lennon
What’s your outlook on life? Parting Gift - Fiona Apple
What does your family think of you? It Happened So Fast - The Cribs
What do your friends think of you? Splash 1 (Now I'm Home) - The 13th Floor Elevators
What do strangers think of you? Postcard Of A Painting - Maximo Park
What do your exes think of you? Pet Rock - Teenage Fanclub
How’s your love life? Hold On - John Lennon
How will your love life be in the future? Hynoptize - Audioslave
Will you get married? The Path - <209>
Are you good at school? Baby Let's Play House - Elvis Presley
Will you be successful? Truth Doesn't Make A Noise - The White Stripes
What song should they play on your birthday? Keep The Line Movin' - The Soundtrack Of Our Lives
What song should they play at your graduation? Speech by John Lennon
The Soundtrack of your life? May The Circle Remain Unbroken - The 13th Floor Elevators
You and your best friends are? Ross Ross Ross - Sebastian
Happy times: Mosh - Eminem
Sad times: Just Like A Woman - Nina Simone
Every day: The Levee's Gonna Break - Bob Dylan
For tomorrow: Mogwai Fear Satan - Mogwai
For you: Room 13 - Black Flag
What does next year have in store for me? Don't Be Cruel - Elvis Presley
What do I say when life gets too hard? You're Quiet - Brendan Benson
What song will I dance to at my wedding? The Dreams Of Children - The Jam
What do you want as your career? Set Me Free - Velvet Revolver
Your favourite saying? The Gloaming - Radiohead
How will I die? Carry That Weight - The Beatles
I think my favourite is the assertion that my love life is described as 'Hold On' - I'm sure Mrs Wife would be willing to testify to that - and that my career is 'Set Me Free' - get me out of fulltime employment and into a life of luxury. I don't have a best friend called Ross though, let alone three of them. And I would have liked John Lennon to give a speech at my graduation, had he not died 22 years earlier. But we never danced to 'Dreams of Children' at the wedding I'm afraid.
But can the Magic Tune Box pick up on my moods and define me whilst set to shuffle? I spotted this little quiz over at Blissful Bedlam and again at Walrilla's Wonderings and thought I'd give it a go.
INSTRUCTIONS:
1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn’t make sense. NO CHEATING
How do you feel today? Imagine - John Lennon
What’s your outlook on life? Parting Gift - Fiona Apple
What does your family think of you? It Happened So Fast - The Cribs
What do your friends think of you? Splash 1 (Now I'm Home) - The 13th Floor Elevators
What do strangers think of you? Postcard Of A Painting - Maximo Park
What do your exes think of you? Pet Rock - Teenage Fanclub
How’s your love life? Hold On - John Lennon
How will your love life be in the future? Hynoptize - Audioslave
Will you get married? The Path - <209>
Are you good at school? Baby Let's Play House - Elvis Presley
Will you be successful? Truth Doesn't Make A Noise - The White Stripes
What song should they play on your birthday? Keep The Line Movin' - The Soundtrack Of Our Lives
What song should they play at your graduation? Speech by John Lennon
The Soundtrack of your life? May The Circle Remain Unbroken - The 13th Floor Elevators
You and your best friends are? Ross Ross Ross - Sebastian
Happy times: Mosh - Eminem
Sad times: Just Like A Woman - Nina Simone
Every day: The Levee's Gonna Break - Bob Dylan
For tomorrow: Mogwai Fear Satan - Mogwai
For you: Room 13 - Black Flag
What does next year have in store for me? Don't Be Cruel - Elvis Presley
What do I say when life gets too hard? You're Quiet - Brendan Benson
What song will I dance to at my wedding? The Dreams Of Children - The Jam
What do you want as your career? Set Me Free - Velvet Revolver
Your favourite saying? The Gloaming - Radiohead
How will I die? Carry That Weight - The Beatles
I think my favourite is the assertion that my love life is described as 'Hold On' - I'm sure Mrs Wife would be willing to testify to that - and that my career is 'Set Me Free' - get me out of fulltime employment and into a life of luxury. I don't have a best friend called Ross though, let alone three of them. And I would have liked John Lennon to give a speech at my graduation, had he not died 22 years earlier. But we never danced to 'Dreams of Children' at the wedding I'm afraid.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)