A Bridge Too Far

Having recovered from the lethargy that afflicted me on Saturday as a result of having been up until 4am that morning, Sunday became the day when Mrs Wife and I did the things we had planned to do on Saturday.

We travelled to Dundee to collect the rug we had ordered for the sitting room at Dungroanin', and I was sidetracked for an hour by a CD and record fair. I can never walk past an opportunity to bolster my collection of music at low prices, and was quite happy to spend an hour digging through boxes of CDs.

I managed to add a few choice tunes to my library, inluding two Black Crowes albums, The Rolling Stones' Emotional Rescue, Yield by Pearl Jam and The Beastie Boys' Licensed To Ill, all for two pounds apiece.

So, in a cheery frame of mind, Mrs Wife headed to the cinema. As we are members with unlimited passes, we never worry too much about what is on, and just tend to go with whatever is available.

Unfortunately, on this occasion that meant going to see The Bridge To Terabithia, a kid's film. It was advertised as having been made by the same team behind The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, and the short description in the cinema made it sound like a similar premise.

Before I start complaining about the film, I do know that it is targeted at kids. But it was lame. There was little in the way of plot and the special effects left a lot to be desired. In fact, the only bright spots were the gorgeous Zooey Deschanel appearing as a guitar-toting music teacher and a cherubic performance from Bailee Madison.

But, one aspect of the experience WAS very enjoyable - kids' films get all the best trailers. There were no dull previews of the latest period drama or Nicholas Cage snooze-fest. The trailers we saw were for The Fantastic Four, Pirates of The Caribbean, Shrek and Harry Potter.

That really sums my cinema tastes up: the films I'm most eagerly awaiting this year are Spiderman 3, Transformers, Pirates of The Caribbean and Shrek The Third.

So what? I'm a big kid and I'm proud of it. And I'm still convinced that someday I'll grow up to be Han Solo.

The Best Laid Plans

It's strange how some of the best times you can have are completely unplanned.

Mrs Wife and I originally intended that yesterday evening would involve nothing more than an evening on the sofa watching a Spiderman double bill on DVD.

But instead, Baby Brother paid a visit and we ended up heading out in Montrose for a tour of the pubs and an impromptu house party in town.

This was followed by a viewing of American History X that ended for me at 4am this morning.

Rising at noon today was perfect timing for settling down to watch Everton v Man Utd on Sky Sports, when our original plan had been to go shopping in Dundee.

I'm all for this free-flowing life, where each day is tackled on its own merits and where we go where we please and do what we want.

If only it could continue indefinitely.

Arresting Behaviour

Worrying news from the Police State of Aberdeen.

A male stripogram is to be charged for dressing as a police officer for his routine.

I realise that impersonating a police officer is a criminal offence, but it's not as if the guy was planning on arresting anyone or issuing speeding tickets. One big giveaway is that instead of saying 'Police' on his back, it says 'Stripper'.

In fact, the uniform he was wearing wasn't even going to stay on terribly long - such a short space of time that the real police officers were happy to watch the show.

What a complete waste of time, public money and police resources.

Unlike in India, where a warrant has been issued for the arrest of Richard Gere.

That sounds like a far better cause for the law enforcement agencies to pursue. While they're at it, the Indian authorities can also take steps to punish Gere's frequent crimes against humanity such as An Officer and A Gentleman, Pretty Woman and Unfaithful. And having him in court will give everyone another opportunity to have a little chuckle at the gerbilling story/urban legend.

Travelling Without Moving

I love my new job. I've been back working in Aberdeen for two months now, and it's been great.

Quite a few people are surprised by the distance I drive to and from work each morning - around 40 miles.

But the commute to work gives me a chance to wake up - it may not seem the best place to wake up, sat at the wheel of a car rattling along the dual carriageway at 70mph, but I don't mean it literally. It just gives me the opportunity to prepare myself for the day ahead.

The one thing that really annoys me about the drive into work is any point where I'm not moving. The feeling of frustration when I'm sitting in stationary traffic is unsufferable.

Last night, it took me 20 minutes to drive a mile to the place where I play football after work. Obviously, it would have been quicker to walk, but the football pitches are closer to home than my office, and I didn't fancy walking a mile after my second hour of football that afternoon.

But Aberdeen can be a hair-tearing place to drive. Plans are afoot for a new bypass around the city, but that won't really affect the areas that I pass through each morning and evening. What it will mean is lots of roadworks and detours.

Which means lots of sitting in traffic....thankfully Jim, the all-seeing individual in charge of the universe, has invented in-car CD players and the Arctic Monkeys, so all is not lost.

Visiting Time

At some point during the next few hours, the 5,000th visitor will stop by at this humble website.

Whosoever points their browser in this direction at the right time will win a piece of useless tat wonderful prize that they can discard immediately display with pride on their own blog.

This Is How It Has To End

Look out the sackcloth and ashes people, for I bring sad news today.

The Cooper Temple Clause, otherwise known as The Greatest Rock'n'Roll Band On The Planet, are no more.

A statement from Dan Fisher, the band's guitarist and chief songwriter, was posted on their website today to confirm that the mighty Clause are no more.

Hopefully, all those involved will continue to write and record in their own inimitable style, as there's was a sound unlike any other.

On a happier note, the rain has stopped and I'm off to play football in ten minutes' time. And there's football on TV tonight as well.

Still, a minute's silence for the demise of the Clause is most definitely in order. No, scratch that - a minute's NOISE for the demise of the Clause is most definitely in order.

24

I missed out on 24 when it was first shown. I presume that a combination of university, going to gigs, Mrs Wife (then known as Miss Girlfriend) and work meant that I never saw it.

This also happened with The Sopranos - I've never seen it. On the face of it, The Sopranos sounds like it would be my favourite show. My favourite movies include Goodfellas, The Godfather, Casino and Donnie Brasco. But again, I've never seen it, and I'm not sure why.

But back to 24. I recently invested in the first two series on DVD - purportedly 48 hours of non-stop TV. I know that each episode is only around 42 minutes long, but it's still a mammoth undertaking.

So, Mrs Wife and I have now begun ploughing through them. I knew roughly what to expect - lots of action, and a cliffhanger every 42 minutes. I'm just astonished at the complexity of the storylines and how the narrative is maintained throughout the series.

So far, we've reached 11am on "Day One". So there are still 13 hours of the first series left.

I know it takes months or years to film a Hollywood blockbuster, which typically lasts around two hours. So filming a 24-hour movie must be a massive undertaking.

But this massive undertaking must be made considerably harder by the fact that there has to be continuity in EVERYTHING. The actors' clothes have to stay the same, and in the same condition. The day must get progressively lighter and darker depending on the time of day. Cuts and bruises need to stay in exactly the same place.

Maybe I just notice all this because I tend to watch three or four episodes back-to-back - most people will see one a week.

But 24, now that I have finally seen it, has definitely been worth the wait.

Interviewees

Anyone who's been following The Interview meme that I originally picked up over at Ole Blue The Heretic's place can now read the answers posted by Sho and Chattie Kat.

Bizarrely, despite living thousands of miles apart and having never met, they both picked exactly the same CD as their answer to question three.

Well, there's no accounting for taste....

Scouse and Home

Concluding the series entitled "What Groanin' Jock Did On Holiday", I will now recount our final day in Liverpool last week, following our time at the Grand National.

As with the previous days, we awoke to find Liverpool bathed in roasting sunshine. Regular readers may be aware that I am a huge fan of The Beatles. And, having never been to Merseyside before, I was eager to take in as many Beatles sites as possible.

Our first port of call was The Beatles Story at Albert Docks - essentially the 'official' Beatles museum. It gave a very good walk-through history of the band, from their beginnings in the 1950s as a schoolboy skiffle band, through the Beatlemania days and into their years as the most imaginative and boundary-pushing band ever.

As a self-confessed Beatles geek, I knew the ins and outs of the story before we went, but it was a great chance to see genuine artefcats from the band's history and to see footage of them performing.

Mrs Wife and I also took the opportunity to walk around the 'Cavern Quarter', the cobbled streets in and around Matthew Street where The Beatles took their first steps towards immortality. And it was here that I had my photograph taken with the statue of John Lennon, just like any other geeky tourist. (Liverpool has countless statues of the band, and most of them bear no resemblance whatsoever to John, Paul, Ringo and George - at least this one looks almost realistic.)

Afterwards, I decided that an ideal way for me to spend my afternoon would be to attend Everton's match with Charlton Athletic at Goodison Park. None of the others in our little party is a football fan, so I was prepared, and quite happy, to attend the match alone, but Mrs Wife decided that to accompany me and to see her second live match. (Her previous visit was to Hampden in August 2002 to witness the nadir of Berti Vogts' reign as Scotland boss, when a national side containing Kevin Kyle and Scott Dobie lost 1-0 to Denmark in front of 28,766 fans.)

Thankfully, we managed to get tickets high in the balcony of the main stand, so we were in the shade and had a great view of the match. Although the encounter was a typically scrappy end-of-season affair between a side aiming for Europe and another desperately clinging to its Premiership place, it was entertaining nonetheless.

However, I feared that, with ten minutes remaining and no goals, it might be enough to dissuade Mrs Wife from future football trips. Thankfully, a late burst of action saw Joleon Lescott open the scoring after Andrew Johnson's shot was saved, Darren Bent equalise with only minutes left and James McFadden, a second half substitute, score a contender for goal of the season in injury time to give the home side the win.

All in all, our jaunt down south was a great weekend away. We may have lost money betting on the races, but the combination of great weather, great company and great football undoubtedly made it a roaring success.

So now I'm turning my attention to deciding where to go on our remaining holidays this year - Mrs Wife and I are looking to head off for our anniversary and again in September. Thoughts and suggestions welcome....

The Interview

In what will be a brief interlude in the (thankfully) short series entitled "What Groanin' Jock Did On Holiday", I'm going to take part in a meme that I first encountered over at Ole Blue The Heretic's blog.

Basically, it takes the form of an interview, with the last person on the chain picking five questions. So, here are Ole Blue's questions and my answers:

1. If you could control your destiny, what would your destiny be? To live a long(ish) life in good health with my family and good friends and that, when the end comes, that it be quick and painless.

2. What is it about your life that you love? Living happily with my wife in our wonderful house and knowing how lucky I am to live where I do and in the style that I do.

3. What experience made you most humble? Travelling around South East Asia made me realise just how well off we are in the west. In Vietnam, we met children and made their day by stopping to talk to them and play football with them. In Thailand, we spent a few days trekking through the jungle north of Chiang Mai, where girls are expected to be pregnant with their second child by the time they are 17. It made me realise that, in comparison, we were just spoilt rich kids unwilling to grow up, having a great time touring countries far less wealthy than our own.

4. Where do you wish you could be right now? I'm tempted to say in bed, as it's only 8.15am and I'm in the office and still feeling the strain after playing football last night. But in the grander scheme of things, the one place I've visited that I love most is New York City, and more specifically Central Park. If I could pick somewhere I haven't been, I'd be tempted to say Tokyo.

5. If you were a child again what would you want to do the most? Enjoy the freedom of the summer holidays - a seemingly unfillable seven-week period that can be devoted almost entirely to playing football.

If anyone would like to be interviwed, here's how to keep the meme going:

Leave me a comment saying "Interview me." I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions. You will update your weblog with the answers to the questions, and let me know that you answered. If you don't have a blog, but would still like to play, I can send you the questions, and you can answer them in the comments. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

A Grand Day Out

In the continuing series entitled "What Groanin' Jock Did On Holiday", I will now recount the day Mrs Wife and I (accompanied by some close friends) spent at the Grand National, the highlight of the British steeplechase calendar.

In truth, none of us is a horse racing fan. In fact, none of us had ever been to the races before.

But when we were mulling over ideas for a weekend away, Mrs Wife and her friend reminded us that they had originally considered attending the National in 2006 for Mrs Wife's hen party (Mrs Wife was then known as Miss Fiancee).

So, leaving all of the arrangements to Mrs Wife, I agreed to go to the races for the first time.

I'd never been to Liverpool until last week, so the train journey south into the land of Morris Dancing, clotted cream and Premiership football was a journey of discovery in itself. Passing through towns and cities including Preston, Wigan and Warrington reminded me of how heavily populated England is in comparison to Scotland, and how much the north of England's history is tied to its industrial past - every town we passed through had a huge mill or factory dominating the horizon, although many of them have now been closed or are awaiting demolition.

As I mentioned in previous posts, the weather last week was stunning - unseasonably warm for April. (As my birthday falls at the end of the first week of April, I can generally remember the weather around that time - it was snowing in Dublin as I turned 19, this year it was scorching in Liverpool).

It seems, at first glance, that there isn't much to see in Liverpool itself - a couple of cathedrals, the Liver Building and the Albert Docks were about the extent of it. But we made the most of the chance to explore the area around our hotel on the night before the big race. The city centre was teeming with well-dresses ladies (in their own heads at least) and gentlemen, as the Aintree Ladies' Day takes place on the Friday before the Grand National. The extravagant costumes put Mrs Wife and her friend in a state of some alarm....

But come Grand National day itself, all was well. The trains from Liverpool Central to Aintree were jam packed, but everyone was in good spirits. There was a buzz all around the race course, as racegoers enjoyed the sun and prepared to lose their money betting on the favourites.

Between us, our four-strong party wagered almost 100 pounds on the main event - not one of us picked up a single penny at the end. Thinking I was playing it safe, I put each way bets on the winners from the previous two Grand Nationals - although both finished, they failed to make the first four.

This failure was compounded when Mither sent me a text message to say that she had backed the winner at odds of 33-1 - because she liked the jockey's silks.....

But even parting with cash couldn't put a dampner on an otherwise excellent day. We enjoyed an excellent dinner at a city centre pub before heading to Matthew Street, epicentre of Liverpool's Cavern Quarter and home to its most popular pubs and clubs.

Well Well Well

As the sun was beating down last Wednesday and Mrs Wife's parents were visiting Dungroanin' for the first time, it seemed like a good idea to take a walk up Glenesk to the Queen's Well.

It was a wonderful drive up the Glen, where my family lived for five of my teenage years, with the unseasonably warm sunshine allowing the scenery to look its best.

Upon arrival at Invermark, at the top of Glenesk, we decided to head straight for the Queen's Well, which is roughly 2.5 miles from the car park.

The only problem was that I was a tad hazy on the direction to take, as I hadn't visited the well since I was at primary school, and that wasn't yesterday.

So, our little party, accompanied by the in-laws' Scotty dog Islay, set out past Invermark Castle. Which, after five minutes of walking, I was fairly sure was the wrong path. Nevertheless, we kept on going, eventually arriving at the head of Loch Lee with its now dilapidated cemetery.

Having caught our breath and taken in the view, we returned to Invermark, having taken around an hour for the round trip.

Then, having found the correct path towards the Queen's Well, we set off again.

They say that only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun - well, we're all Scottish, but we certainly felt the heat as we continued ever onwards towards the Queen's Well - never quite sure that we were on the right road this second time around, as you can't see the well until you are less than half a mile from it.

But eventually, hot and weary, we reached our goal. The Queen's Well was built to commemorate a visit by Queen Victoria in 1861, the year of Prince Albert's death. Apparently the Queen stopped at the well for a drink, which she reportedly found "most refreshing", and a 6m high stone crown was erected in her honour.

So, after spending about 10 minutes taking photos of the well, we headed back to the car, having hiked 7 miles in the baking heat.

Which I think more than compensates for the fact that I didn't play football at all last week.

As you can see from the photograph on the right, neither me nor Mrs Wife died during the lengthy walk - in fact, I would say that we look quite perky for having undertaken such a lengthy walk in the sun.

Islay struggled a bit more though - it must be tough being a foot high and having a thick black coat in that heat.

Acting The Goat

Courtesy of a work colleague and the BBC, a heartwarming tale of romance in Africa.

I heard a story a few years back about a train full of passengers travelling through a London suburb.

Apparently the train normally went rattling through this suburb really fast, but delays on the line meant that it was barely moving one day. All of the passengers on one side of the train who happened to look out the window were "treated" to the sight of a man, trousers and boxers around his ankles, enjoying the company of his pet goat on his allotment.

It seems that local police received around 20 calls from disturbed passengers reporting the man's activity.

I don't know, you head down to your allotment for a bit of peace and quiet and a quick fumble with your goat, and a trainload of strangers report you to the police. What's the world coming to?

I'm Still Alive

I'm back folks.

As I mentioned in the previous post, I've been on holiday since Good Friday, a week that coincided with an early summer in Montrose.

The weather has been gorgeous, and Mrs Wife, her parents and I took the opportunity to take a walk up Glenesk in the glorious sunshine.

And then Mrs Wife and I headed to Liverpool for a weekend that included attending the Grand National and Everton's clash with Charlton Athletic.

I'll post properly on all of these activities as soon as I get a chance, but at the moment I'm back at work and staring at an inbox of 250 emails.

Hey, it's good to be back....

Lawnmower Man

Jim, the all-seeing individual in charge of the universe, is smiling on me this week.

Mrs Wife and I have been on holiday since Good Friday, and the sun has been beating down ever since.

Ideally, this would mean spending a whole week relaxing in my new hammock in my new garden, but things don't always work out in an ideal fashion.

Firstly, I HAVE a garden, which has vast lawns at front and rear. And this means that I have an atomic shedload of grass to cut.

So, at the helm of a bright orange device that looks more like a floor buffer than a blade-spinning destroyer of weeds and Mrs Wife's flowers, I began battle with the grounds of Dungroanin' first thing this morning.

And it's pretty hard going. But although I expected to resent the activity and the drain on my precious holiday hours, it was actually almost enjoyable. There's something almost therapeutic about going head-to-head with nature in the glorious spring sunshine.

Of course, I looked cool whilst engaged in this tidying up of the ranch - the Magic Tune Box pumped the sexy soul of Amy Winehouse into my lugs as I worked, and my new wraparound shades protected my peepers from the sunshine and the flying dandelion heads.

And now Dungroanin' is ready for a visit from the Inlaws. Luckily, Mrs Wife's parents will get their first look at Chateau Jock in glorious sunshine and with the garden looking as good as is ever likely.

But, if future battles of the lawn are to be tackled in the appropriate fashion, I'm going to need to invest in some serious military hardware. So I think I'll take some advice from Eric.

Birthday Boy

Seems I'm just a big kid in everyone else's eyes - for my birthday I received two He Man and The Masters of The Universe boxed sets, PlayStation games and Easter eggs.

Not that I'm complaining, just saying.....

The Big Pay-Off

Right folks, here's the deal. I've been keeping you entertained at this website for seven months now, and I've never asked for anything in return.

Not once have I demanded a penny for my thoughts - all of the views, opinions, rubbish jokes and moaning on this humble webpage have been donated free of charge.

So now, if you'd like to show your appreciation, I've found the present I want.

KITT is for sale

So, if you could organise some form of online collective and raise the 149,995 dollars that Kassabian Motors is looking for, it would be very well received.

(Thanks to Yes But No But Yes for brightening my Friday afternoon with the news that David Hasselhoff's greatest-ever co-star is up for grabs.)

Easter

To many of us, Easter is about fluffy bunnies, chocolate eggs and Disney cartoons on TV.

But to others, Easter is about commemorating the day that a magician was nailed to a cross about 2,000 years ago. (It's not my way of thinking, but I'm happy for those who believe in it. In the words of God himself: "Whatever gets you through the night, 'salright, 'salright".)

And as regular readers know, this blog is all about spiritual enlightenment and improving ourselves through learning (as well as crass jokes about Mute Tourette's Syndrome and rants about how stupendously rubbish Rangers are at the moment).

So, in what is probably a misguided effort at helping you strange people get some edjookayshun, here's a link to Wikipedia's entry on Easter.

My favourite part, once we're done with all the heavy stuff about Saints and the lunar calendar, is this:

"According to the children's stories, the eggs were hidden overnight and other treats delivered by the Easter Bunny in an Easter basket which children find waiting for them when they wake up. The Easter Bunny's motives for doing this are seldom clarified."

Now come on, does the Easter Bunny really need a motive for his annual gift-giving? If an imaginary rabbit wants to spend his Bank Holiday weekend delivering chocolate to my garden, why can't we just leave him in peace?

Beer vs Makeup

In what is a first for this blog (I think), today is Three Post Thursday.

I happened across this little picture whilst over at Ralphdood's place at Boobies and Beer.

And it made me laugh.

Summer's gone

Well, summer lasted less than a day. I headed out to Duthie Park for lunch in the fresh air and sunshine, only to find that it had been replaced by fresh air and big black clouds.

Typical.