The behaviour of the species Homo Sapiens can be fairly easily predicted based on what we already know:
When a female of the species in her reproductive prime moves with a cultivated grace, displaying all her credentials in this field, the male being highly attuned to this, is attracted. In much the same way that a bumble bee is irresistably drawn to the blossoms of early summer in order to serve natures purposes. When the younger female rubs up against an older but still viable male he will be aroused by an overwhelming sense of beauty in order again to serve the purposes of etc etc .....
....the bee luxuriating in the pollen laden flower probably mutters half to itself in its own bee language
..." Wow ...you've got an amazing body.."
30th May: How I had a drink with Richard Dawkins
Due to the lack of accomodation in Dumfries, it wasn't that surprising to come across the Professor in the bar at the Station Hotel after his lecture. Isabelle advised that buying the Professor a drink would be naff, but in the end "Junior" bought him a half pint of cider and a packet of dry roasted peanuts.
After some conversation, the subject came up as to whether he should feel scared at all? To which he answered "Should I be?" For all Professor Dawkins knew, Isabelle could have been an assassin sent with full Papal authority. In fact, any member of our party could have been a shoe bomber, particularly the young lad with very thick platform soles. Mr Franklin, judging by appearances alone, could easily pass for any brand of fundamentalist looney ...
After some conversation, the subject came up as to whether he should feel scared at all? To which he answered "Should I be?" For all Professor Dawkins knew, Isabelle could have been an assassin sent with full Papal authority. In fact, any member of our party could have been a shoe bomber, particularly the young lad with very thick platform soles. Mr Franklin, judging by appearances alone, could easily pass for any brand of fundamentalist looney ...
29th May Right Here, Right Now... Sort of.
Had to spend the day wrestling with 16 metres of flexible liner on top of a boarding school. To this end I was assisted by the 2 G's, who arrived directly from Glasgow, in Georges Mercedes Sprinter.
Another day of blustery showers helped to concentrate the mind during various balancing acts on the roof. Proceedings got off to a bad start when I realised the extension to the roof ladder was 70 miles away. Inevitably there was going to be a shortage of ladder. Having managed to climb onto a section of Baronial Frontage I got the ladder pushed up the roof and hooked over the ridge. Then a length of rope attached to the bottom rung would have to do for crawling up the bottom section of steeply angled slates. Work as play, a kind of sport or outdoor activity is my way of looking at it. Anyway since this was the north side of the building each time a shower came over the slates would be rewetted and their slimey green covering reactivated. The consequence of this reduced coefficient of friction between myself and the roof had the effect of expunging all the usual wittering thoughts. And all the more so, when saddled with a bucket of cement. This Oneness with the slates focused awareness and action thus freeing the mind from the binds of its own idle chatter. However the low point was when Graham came back at lunch time with burgers from a snack van in a nearby lay-by that's hardly ever open..."I got you a burger....."
Another day of blustery showers helped to concentrate the mind during various balancing acts on the roof. Proceedings got off to a bad start when I realised the extension to the roof ladder was 70 miles away. Inevitably there was going to be a shortage of ladder. Having managed to climb onto a section of Baronial Frontage I got the ladder pushed up the roof and hooked over the ridge. Then a length of rope attached to the bottom rung would have to do for crawling up the bottom section of steeply angled slates. Work as play, a kind of sport or outdoor activity is my way of looking at it. Anyway since this was the north side of the building each time a shower came over the slates would be rewetted and their slimey green covering reactivated. The consequence of this reduced coefficient of friction between myself and the roof had the effect of expunging all the usual wittering thoughts. And all the more so, when saddled with a bucket of cement. This Oneness with the slates focused awareness and action thus freeing the mind from the binds of its own idle chatter. However the low point was when Graham came back at lunch time with burgers from a snack van in a nearby lay-by that's hardly ever open..."I got you a burger....."
28th May Lap Dancing Fallout
Having been, in some small way, recently refreshed sensually, I found myself unconsiously assessing women as potential Exotic Dancers. However the plain facts are that a career choice in this field could never, even remotely, be construed as a job for life. Attendance at The World Bottle Smashing Contest today was a case in point. Although very nice, there was no one there that met the principal criteria of fitting that all important narrow age range. That aside from other essential attributes such as flexibility and something akin to a sense of rhythm.
So how does the club owner circumvent existing employment legislation vis-a-vis accusations of Ageism? Is it like trying to join The Masonic Order if you're not a man?
Exotic Dancers must be like pears from Tesco, only palatable for a short time.
So how does the club owner circumvent existing employment legislation vis-a-vis accusations of Ageism? Is it like trying to join The Masonic Order if you're not a man?
Exotic Dancers must be like pears from Tesco, only palatable for a short time.
27th May Non-Virtual Lap Dancing
Last nights proceedings reached their predictable zenith or nadir (depending on your perspective) when the party entered one of these places staffed by mainly younger women wearing surprisingly little in the way of clothing. Making our way (if memory serves) past a convenient in-house Link Cashpoint machine we were each divested firstly of the sum of £5. Arlesch 's round of drinks exposed a pricing structure based around a margin of approx 500 to 600%, then the contribution towards the soon to be remarried Sheeg came in at £10.
Now with time to kill and with normal levels of inhibition safely anaethetised, it's only natural to dispose of any remaining cash still in ones possession. Having more or less OK'd the private "dance" experience with Isabelle prior to the likely possibility, I began to feel nervous at the prospect... Luckily Jamse was on hand to point me in the direction of one young woman in particular. "It'll give me something to write about" I claimed.
"Could I have a private dance please?"
"Yes, of course you can, £10 or £20?"
"Errr.....£20"
I may as well Go Large, I mused beerily. Once led through to another more dimly lit section, I duly parted with the agreed sum, then having had it made clear that one's hands have to be kept to oneself, the proceedings kicked off... along with, in a short time, what little clothing was worn by the young woman. The continuous backing music seemed to fit seamlessly... The tendency was no doubt to stare transfixed with an inane grin, but it's all harmless fun. Mind you, this type of dance may be unsuitable for the very elderly or anyone with a heart condition, at certain points in the routine the dancers full weight bears down on the upper part of the thighs...
Having been returned to the bar I felt the need to compare and contrast and parted with my last £10 to another young woman of a delightful mixed race complexion. Now fully au fait with proceedings, maybe I felt more relaxed, well things seemed a lot more giggly...
Personally, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend private lap dancing as an excellent way for disposing of money in a short time.
Jamse was keen to push on to a well known gay bar, however some members seemed to baulk at this prospect and the effects of the evening had taken their toll. Some of the party became separated, all bars seemed to be closed leaving only the obligatory fish supper, then Jamse did his usual dissapearing act...
Arlesch was still around to organise a taxi.
Now with time to kill and with normal levels of inhibition safely anaethetised, it's only natural to dispose of any remaining cash still in ones possession. Having more or less OK'd the private "dance" experience with Isabelle prior to the likely possibility, I began to feel nervous at the prospect... Luckily Jamse was on hand to point me in the direction of one young woman in particular. "It'll give me something to write about" I claimed.
"Could I have a private dance please?"
"Yes, of course you can, £10 or £20?"
"Errr.....£20"
I may as well Go Large, I mused beerily. Once led through to another more dimly lit section, I duly parted with the agreed sum, then having had it made clear that one's hands have to be kept to oneself, the proceedings kicked off... along with, in a short time, what little clothing was worn by the young woman. The continuous backing music seemed to fit seamlessly... The tendency was no doubt to stare transfixed with an inane grin, but it's all harmless fun. Mind you, this type of dance may be unsuitable for the very elderly or anyone with a heart condition, at certain points in the routine the dancers full weight bears down on the upper part of the thighs...
Having been returned to the bar I felt the need to compare and contrast and parted with my last £10 to another young woman of a delightful mixed race complexion. Now fully au fait with proceedings, maybe I felt more relaxed, well things seemed a lot more giggly...
Personally, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend private lap dancing as an excellent way for disposing of money in a short time.
Jamse was keen to push on to a well known gay bar, however some members seemed to baulk at this prospect and the effects of the evening had taken their toll. Some of the party became separated, all bars seemed to be closed leaving only the obligatory fish supper, then Jamse did his usual dissapearing act...
Arlesch was still around to organise a taxi.
26th May Aberdeen Stag Night Event
Up here for Sheeg's 2nd Stag night in as many years. I'm not certain but it could be the 3rd overall. Most of the other participants kicked off about 4 hours ago, What can you say ??? Certainly very little in a couple of hours.... The weals on his backside from the previous "event" at a rather unsalubrious venue must have faded by now.....
25th May Poltergeist II
Camping out in the many roomed and empty Bellview House last night. At first light I was awakened by some sort of knocking noise. Not wanting to emerge into the chill air from the sleeping bag (still smelling faintly of cat pee) I drowsily attempted a rationalisation of the noise. Something falling down one of the chimneys? Something blowing in the wind? Intruders on the prowl for tools or rolls of lead? If they came into this room would they just ignore me lying on the floor? Isn't it more dangerous to confront them? Or did I really hear anything?...
I was just about to nod off again when; "Rat Ta Ta TAT !" God it must be someone at the front door! Sounds like the knock a Policeman or some other figure of authority would give; insistent and urgent. I squinted at the mobile phone; "what time is it?" 4.07 am? What? This is unreal. I hurriedly pulled on some clothes to be presentable for who or what...? I reached the hall and unlocked the 6 panel Georgian door; when it swung open there was no one there. Ah... someone playing some kind of silly buggers? At 4 in the morning? I doubt it. Or did I imagine all this? I went quietly round to the back door through the now completely wrecked kitchen, not a sound. Crept up the stairs to the first floor and looked out of the windows, nothing moving. Then up to the 2nd floor now minus its floorboards. The sash of one of the windows was open but I'd left it like that, maybe they climbed up the scaffold and then through the open window? On the way back down all the house was silent until... "RAT TA TA TAT !" There it was again ! Coming from the top floor, somebody at the window ? Freaky?...
I retraced my steps to the top of the stairs and balanced across the floor joists. It was like The Omen I or II ? Because there, outside, a large black crow was in the process of rapping again on the window with its beak... then it saw me and flapped off with a considerable "Caw, Cawing..." Well...?
I was just about to nod off again when; "Rat Ta Ta TAT !" God it must be someone at the front door! Sounds like the knock a Policeman or some other figure of authority would give; insistent and urgent. I squinted at the mobile phone; "what time is it?" 4.07 am? What? This is unreal. I hurriedly pulled on some clothes to be presentable for who or what...? I reached the hall and unlocked the 6 panel Georgian door; when it swung open there was no one there. Ah... someone playing some kind of silly buggers? At 4 in the morning? I doubt it. Or did I imagine all this? I went quietly round to the back door through the now completely wrecked kitchen, not a sound. Crept up the stairs to the first floor and looked out of the windows, nothing moving. Then up to the 2nd floor now minus its floorboards. The sash of one of the windows was open but I'd left it like that, maybe they climbed up the scaffold and then through the open window? On the way back down all the house was silent until... "RAT TA TA TAT !" There it was again ! Coming from the top floor, somebody at the window ? Freaky?...
I retraced my steps to the top of the stairs and balanced across the floor joists. It was like The Omen I or II ? Because there, outside, a large black crow was in the process of rapping again on the window with its beak... then it saw me and flapped off with a considerable "Caw, Cawing..." Well...?
24th May The Four Stages of Life
As I opened a tin of Tesco Mackerel Fillet in Tomato Sauce, John the retired fireman (52) said: "You'll live forever if you eat that stuff".
"What's that"? asked Mr McKay Snr,
"Mackerel" grunted McKay Jnr.
The conversation turned to blood pressure, "the silent killer" announced John - recently diagnosed with raised B.P. following his Annual HGV Medical - "because you don't know you've got it till......that's you".
This was the cue for McKay Snr (still slating roofs at 68) to go into considerable detail about his own heart problem which had resulted in taking the prescribed four tablets a day.
"I'll never live to 100".
"I hope to *uck you don't" quipped McKay Jnr, "I'm not having you on a roof when you're 90 years old".
McKay Jnr is at the point in life where, although obviously aware of blood pressure, still feels there's time enough ahead, evidenced by eating a lot of crisps and smoking.
The young apprentice is outside with a football, performing tricks like a sea lion and generally running around, heart presumably A1.
"What's that"? asked Mr McKay Snr,
"Mackerel" grunted McKay Jnr.
The conversation turned to blood pressure, "the silent killer" announced John - recently diagnosed with raised B.P. following his Annual HGV Medical - "because you don't know you've got it till......that's you".
This was the cue for McKay Snr (still slating roofs at 68) to go into considerable detail about his own heart problem which had resulted in taking the prescribed four tablets a day.
"I'll never live to 100".
"I hope to *uck you don't" quipped McKay Jnr, "I'm not having you on a roof when you're 90 years old".
McKay Jnr is at the point in life where, although obviously aware of blood pressure, still feels there's time enough ahead, evidenced by eating a lot of crisps and smoking.
The young apprentice is outside with a football, performing tricks like a sea lion and generally running around, heart presumably A1.
23rd May More Bervie Chipper
Arrived back at the Bervie Chipper to find the sitting down section completely packed with pensioners. "No seating for 20 minutes" as they were all still working their way through the £4.99 O.A.P. 3 course meal served 12-5pm. So I took the opportunity to saunter along to the co-op to stock up on what fresh fruit was available, to conteract the imminent over larding effect of another steak & gravy pie and chips with extra gravy.
Gareth was on site this evening and insists on chimney No 7 being put back to original (yawn) condition. I could be stuck here for weeks. At this rate, I could see myself producing a low budget documentary entitled something like "Deep-Fry Me" culminating in liver failure.
Gareth was on site this evening and insists on chimney No 7 being put back to original (yawn) condition. I could be stuck here for weeks. At this rate, I could see myself producing a low budget documentary entitled something like "Deep-Fry Me" culminating in liver failure.
22nd May The "Real" World - Latest
In the real world, tomorrow marks the rather irksome prospect of a return to Bellview House.... Huddled in front't meager fire trying t't boil kettle etc, followed by streching out on the floor in the sleeping bag which bears a faint aroma of cat pee. On this occasion I think I'm going to have to restrict the frequency of my visits to the "Bervie Chipper" though (winner of the best fish & chip shop in UK 1997) as I've been feeling a little over larded or whatever they use nowadays. Not that standards have fallen since 1997 or anything. I'll have to accomplish the rest of the trials up there without Junior as he's now gone back to his day job. So there'll be no more debate about Juniors Utopian vision where all decisions are made by a giant super- computer because people can't be trusteddddddddddddd ( oops just fell asleep there with one finger on the d.) Imagine if this super computer had anything to do with Windows 98? Can machines ever really be trusted? Of course as with most Utopian dreams the path that leads to them normally requires strict enforcement of various rules to root out the various ongoing societal cancers. And to quote Detective Callaghan: " ...before you know it you're executing your neighbour because his dog pisses on your lawn..." Good night.
21st May. Modernisation: an Up to the Minute View
Back at 18 Reutevennan Str. Supposedly work is "coming on" and "there's not much to do now". Roughly translated, this means; when will it ever be finished?
As fashions change so does the concept of modernisation. What was considered thoroughly modern in Stalinist Russia may now be thought of as a little old hat.
Nowadays the fashion seems to be to remove most of the interior doors, then paint everything either white or magnolia, apart from one or two "feature walls" which, through some species of optical illusion, have a tardis-like effect on the interior of any flat.
Part of today's duties included the complete destruction of a previous, but now dated, built-in cupboard, an improvement of the early 1970's. This time could be fixed by the imperial sections of softwood, the use of slotted screws and the quality of plywood. The rainforests that went into this era of laminated board have long since vanished, along with the complex ecosystem once supported by their canopy. That's the way The World is though, and it's a very different world that these cupboard components re-emerged into on their brief journey to a final resting place in the landfill at Binn Farm... Still, a thing of beauty is a joy for, well, in this case no more than 30 years?...
As fashions change so does the concept of modernisation. What was considered thoroughly modern in Stalinist Russia may now be thought of as a little old hat.
Nowadays the fashion seems to be to remove most of the interior doors, then paint everything either white or magnolia, apart from one or two "feature walls" which, through some species of optical illusion, have a tardis-like effect on the interior of any flat.
Part of today's duties included the complete destruction of a previous, but now dated, built-in cupboard, an improvement of the early 1970's. This time could be fixed by the imperial sections of softwood, the use of slotted screws and the quality of plywood. The rainforests that went into this era of laminated board have long since vanished, along with the complex ecosystem once supported by their canopy. That's the way The World is though, and it's a very different world that these cupboard components re-emerged into on their brief journey to a final resting place in the landfill at Binn Farm... Still, a thing of beauty is a joy for, well, in this case no more than 30 years?...
20th May Father's Birthday Tomorrow
Spoke to Mother today; via brother's mobile...
"How are you ?'
"Oh not so good, my knees have been pretty bad, in fact I've been pretty down..."
"Well, it could be worse..."
"Pardon?"
"I said it could be worse"
"It could be...What?"
"I said It could be WORSE"
"What..?"
" WORSE, W-O-R-S-E"
"W-O-R..... what's he saying?"
"You've forgotten how to spell haven't you?'
"No I haven't, spell phlegm?"
"Phlegm? P-H-L-E-G-M"
"P-H-E-L-G-M"
"What?...You know it would have been Dudley's birthday tomorrow"
"Yes the 16th"
"No the 21st"
"It's the 16th"
"Well anyway, he'd have been 101..."
"How are you ?'
"Oh not so good, my knees have been pretty bad, in fact I've been pretty down..."
"Well, it could be worse..."
"Pardon?"
"I said it could be worse"
"It could be...What?"
"I said It could be WORSE"
"What..?"
" WORSE, W-O-R-S-E"
"W-O-R..... what's he saying?"
"You've forgotten how to spell haven't you?'
"No I haven't, spell phlegm?"
"Phlegm? P-H-L-E-G-M"
"P-H-E-L-G-M"
"What?...You know it would have been Dudley's birthday tomorrow"
"Yes the 16th"
"No the 21st"
"It's the 16th"
"Well anyway, he'd have been 101..."
19th May Kenneth & Roz and the Poltergeist
I must admit feeling slightly haunted by thoughts of young Kenneth and Roz enjoying the first fruits of forbidden love somewhere here in Bellview House. But the first half of the night passed peacefully enough. Then suddenly I awoke to what sounded like the unmistakable knocking of a resident Poltergeist. I drifted off again but felt strangely restless for the remainder of the night.
In the morning, Junior admonished me for snoring like a pig inexplicably from the middle of the night till dawn, and informed me that he had resorted to making sudden noises to wake me up or anything to still the noise. Events had culminated in double clapping and shouting close to the eardrum...
In the morning, Junior admonished me for snoring like a pig inexplicably from the middle of the night till dawn, and informed me that he had resorted to making sudden noises to wake me up or anything to still the noise. Events had culminated in double clapping and shouting close to the eardrum...
18th May Night falls on Bellview House
The accomodation here is somewhat spartan, but in the interest of profit margins I've elected to camp out here with Junior for the next three days. Despite remembering to bring tea bags, there was nothing to drink tea out of, necessitating the purchase of exotic yogurts from the local Co-op to double as both desserts and mugs.
You wonder what went on in these rooms? Luckily we have unearthed documentary evidence from July 1978, from Kenneth writing in the third person to Roz:
"Poor Kenneth. For he has been behaving himself for a month now and I think he has forgotten how to misbehave. A four letter word must have really got hold of him. The word is LOVE. - [heavily underlined] - Just in case your innocent? little mind cannot think of such a word.
David has dropped Lesley from his number one girl spot, for reasons unwritable. If you're not away to London, there is a Pony Club Interbranch Show on the 15th July [78]. I will phone in the not too distant future. Lots of Love, Kenneth".
I wonder what Kenneth is doing now, or Roz, David or Lesley for that matter...
You wonder what went on in these rooms? Luckily we have unearthed documentary evidence from July 1978, from Kenneth writing in the third person to Roz:
"Poor Kenneth. For he has been behaving himself for a month now and I think he has forgotten how to misbehave. A four letter word must have really got hold of him. The word is LOVE. - [heavily underlined] - Just in case your innocent? little mind cannot think of such a word.
David has dropped Lesley from his number one girl spot, for reasons unwritable. If you're not away to London, there is a Pony Club Interbranch Show on the 15th July [78]. I will phone in the not too distant future. Lots of Love, Kenneth".
I wonder what Kenneth is doing now, or Roz, David or Lesley for that matter...
17th May Events at Milton of Ovine
This is the sort of thing people do: I arrived at Mrs Stuyvesant's and her husband Peter. She had already gone out, and in order that I could carry on with the job in hand - i.e. making a lot of dust and mess in the living room - she had left an envelope thoughtfully taped to the back door which of course was locked. I removed the envelope and opened it; inside was a note with precise instructions: "The key is in the garage, on the left underneath the biscuit tin."
During the day the orphan lamb in the adjoining field became more and more insistent in its demand for bottled formula milk. I had to take matters into my own hands in the absence of Mrs S, the surrogate mother. Having mixed up some powder then worked out how to get the teat in its mouth the lamb was happy as...Larry? I recalled something Mrs S said the day before: "They're so cute like this, it's a pity they have to turn into stupid smelly sheep when they grow up".
For myself, I think I'm closer to stupid smelly sheep than cuddly wee lamb.
During the day the orphan lamb in the adjoining field became more and more insistent in its demand for bottled formula milk. I had to take matters into my own hands in the absence of Mrs S, the surrogate mother. Having mixed up some powder then worked out how to get the teat in its mouth the lamb was happy as...Larry? I recalled something Mrs S said the day before: "They're so cute like this, it's a pity they have to turn into stupid smelly sheep when they grow up".
For myself, I think I'm closer to stupid smelly sheep than cuddly wee lamb.
16th May The Running to Athens Programme Continued
The turn around point tonight was only at the entrance to Glenearn House, so there was no sign of the Akropolis just yet. Actually tonight's training was delayed by a combination of heavy rain and a similarly weighty dinner of sausages and cabbage. A new wire fence obstructed the usual route through the wood but this proved to be no barrier at all as I was free of any dog walking duties, unlike the neighbours.
Running through the gathering gloom a couple of Mallards suddenly flew up noisily from under the wooden bridge, putting an additional loading on the heart muscle. Then a group of young Bovines decided to canter along curious as to how another creature could run on only two legs, but their pursuit stopped short at the electric fence. A small bat did its best to get entangled in my hair but it stood little chance. The sausages started to weigh increasingly heavily, but once on the return I seemed to get a second wind attributable to the cabbage. On the way back I seemed to have "taken it to another level"; it was as if the body was doing the running for me, like a well maintained machine, albeit a machine full of gas. I was just left to watch, as if still sat in the house. Fantasy Training for Armchair Mountaineering? The goal of the Akropolis keeping me on track, the sillouettes of trees passed by reflected in the dark puddles of water, and the sound of the trainers on the tarmac beat out the ceaseless rhythm; A-thens, A-thens, A-thens...
Running through the gathering gloom a couple of Mallards suddenly flew up noisily from under the wooden bridge, putting an additional loading on the heart muscle. Then a group of young Bovines decided to canter along curious as to how another creature could run on only two legs, but their pursuit stopped short at the electric fence. A small bat did its best to get entangled in my hair but it stood little chance. The sausages started to weigh increasingly heavily, but once on the return I seemed to get a second wind attributable to the cabbage. On the way back I seemed to have "taken it to another level"; it was as if the body was doing the running for me, like a well maintained machine, albeit a machine full of gas. I was just left to watch, as if still sat in the house. Fantasy Training for Armchair Mountaineering? The goal of the Akropolis keeping me on track, the sillouettes of trees passed by reflected in the dark puddles of water, and the sound of the trainers on the tarmac beat out the ceaseless rhythm; A-thens, A-thens, A-thens...
15th May How Derren Brown Programmed Me To Kill
Spent an evening, along with about 2000 other people, in the company of the well known Man of Mystery and Mind Games at the Caird Hall. Apart from walking on broken glass, most parts of the show involved using subliminal signals to illicit the required responses from members of the audience chosen at random. In order for this to work it meant that the whole audience was subject to the same signals. The trick is that people make a choice based on what "feels right" but then have no idea why they would made that choice. One woman claimed that her first crush had been on somebody with the surname Green but how did Mr Brown know she was going to say that? The word had to have been planted in her mind by suggestion. The Grand Finale involved someone selecting by "free choice" page 14 in the Daily Mail, without page 14 the trick would have failed miserably.
Immediately after leaving the Caird Hall and feeling to all intents "normal enough", I went to fill up at a self-service petrol station. When confronted with a choice of three types of fuel at the pump, without thinking I picked up the green nozzle for unleaded petrol and started filling up the Daihatsu, which has a diesel engine. Whilst watching the display showing the cost of the fuel something happened when the numbers reached £14.00. It was like fingers being snapped and immediately I "came to" wondering why I was putting petrol in a diesel car. I said to Isabelle, "I've just put £14.00 of petrol in the car".
It was only later, after the deed had been done so to speak, that the possibility that it wasn't a free choice occured. The answer was ( or could be ) that Derren Brown had inadvertently programmed me by post hypnotic suggestion to kill my car.
So much for Free Will.....
Immediately after leaving the Caird Hall and feeling to all intents "normal enough", I went to fill up at a self-service petrol station. When confronted with a choice of three types of fuel at the pump, without thinking I picked up the green nozzle for unleaded petrol and started filling up the Daihatsu, which has a diesel engine. Whilst watching the display showing the cost of the fuel something happened when the numbers reached £14.00. It was like fingers being snapped and immediately I "came to" wondering why I was putting petrol in a diesel car. I said to Isabelle, "I've just put £14.00 of petrol in the car".
It was only later, after the deed had been done so to speak, that the possibility that it wasn't a free choice occured. The answer was ( or could be ) that Derren Brown had inadvertently programmed me by post hypnotic suggestion to kill my car.
So much for Free Will.....
14th May What can go wrong doesn't always go wrong
I was in no mood for any cheek from the occupant of Flat G at 185, the assistant manager at Dominos.
He seemed to be making an issue out of the continued inoperation of their buzzer for the front door. His claim was that the £20 share of me fixing the lock also guaranteed the restoration of flat G's communications with the outside world. While he was telling me all this, I actually had the new supposedly unbreakable lock in a state of disassembly due to its first malfunction. Basically what could go wrong went wrong, just down to one screw coming out, although 8 weeks is a the new record for the continuous operation of an electric door lock.
This was a marked contrast to the Failing Eyesight Motor cycle/Estate car rally where a list of what could have gone wrong would have covered several sides of closely worded A4. Highest on the list of possibilties would certainly have been a head-on collision between the Subaru Estate and some unsuspecting Sunday driver. Jamse seemed intent on proving to every other road users that, even given dry roads, there's no way a two-wheeler can keep up with a four-wheel-drive double turbo-charged estate.
Having accomplished this to everyone's satisfaction, all that remains, apart from replacing all four expensive low profile tiles, is for Jamse to get through the next few anxious days. As there will be the continued and ever present threat of the arrival of the Constabulary following up one or more tip offs from irrate drivers.
These Spoilsports could be drawn from an area of several hundred square miles......
He seemed to be making an issue out of the continued inoperation of their buzzer for the front door. His claim was that the £20 share of me fixing the lock also guaranteed the restoration of flat G's communications with the outside world. While he was telling me all this, I actually had the new supposedly unbreakable lock in a state of disassembly due to its first malfunction. Basically what could go wrong went wrong, just down to one screw coming out, although 8 weeks is a the new record for the continuous operation of an electric door lock.
This was a marked contrast to the Failing Eyesight Motor cycle/Estate car rally where a list of what could have gone wrong would have covered several sides of closely worded A4. Highest on the list of possibilties would certainly have been a head-on collision between the Subaru Estate and some unsuspecting Sunday driver. Jamse seemed intent on proving to every other road users that, even given dry roads, there's no way a two-wheeler can keep up with a four-wheel-drive double turbo-charged estate.
Having accomplished this to everyone's satisfaction, all that remains, apart from replacing all four expensive low profile tiles, is for Jamse to get through the next few anxious days. As there will be the continued and ever present threat of the arrival of the Constabulary following up one or more tip offs from irrate drivers.
These Spoilsports could be drawn from an area of several hundred square miles......
13th May News from The Crapington Hotel
Thoughts while travelling by motorcycle on single track roads in Ardnamurchan: Bend, oncoming car? Sheep, lamb, gravel, cattle grid, Road Narrows, bend, oncoming car? Lamb, lamb, sheep, nice view, lamb, wet road, oncoming car? Lamb and sheep, Blind Summit, oncoming car? Two lambs...etc...
12th May Bulletin from the Bogall
A slight visual impairment en route North, due to the ingress of Lafarge joint filler dust from earlier this morning into the good eye. This meant that eyesight failed slightly more than usual for several miles up the A9. Also, I gave a pretty good impression of a two-wheeled version of Captain Birdseye in this yellow sou'wester bought from the Fishermen's Co-op in Stornoway. The big news is that Jamse is here but, despite having three motorbikes, claims none of them go at the moment. And this is the explanation as to why he's here in his Estate car. Mental!
11th May Running to Athens
The thing is I've forked out a sack of money for that Alpine Mountaineering Course in a rabid reaction to one disturbed night on Ward 4 PRI....
Having signed up, an equipment list to rival the sports gear requirement for Eton College arrived. So far I've got an ice axe of the requisite length from Errol car boot sale but that still leaves a considerable deficit of essential life preserving items.
The money would definitely be a complete waste without any attempt at a prior improvement to the Cardiovascular System, due to the inevitable increased demand for oxygen. Bearing this in mind a rigid training schedule has been instituted that follows a simple algorithm based on some character in Greek mythology. This chap was said to be strong enough to lift a bull. How did he train? Well he started with a new born calf apparently and set himself the daily task of hoisting this bovine off the ground and so as it grew, Theo's strength followed likewise.
So the Greek regime involves running in the gathering dusk then turning round and running back in the dark (this cleverly avoids meeting Brendan or any other dog walkers, because anyway he'll only ask me when I'm going to do his boiler flue). Now allowing one day for recovery (I think Theo made a mistake there), the trick is to increase the turn around point by about 200 yards on each occasion. Through a process of extrapolation the results can be predicted thus.
Theo increases his run by 2 x 200 yards every other day. How many weeks training would he require to be able to complete an ultra-marathon to Athens, a distance of 3890 kms?
First multiply 3890 x 0.624 to give miles =2427 miles then x 1760= 4,272,153 yds
Distance increase per day = 200 yards
therefore number of days = 4,272.153/200=21360 days /7 = 3051 weeks or 58 years. This can't be right because what happens to the schedule when it takes more than 2 days to turn around and run back?
If Theo jogs at 5 miles an hour in 48 hours he will have run 240 miles without stopping to eat. Therefore turning around at any point further than 120 miles from home requires that he would have to set off again on the next training session before he arrived back, thus causing a rupture in the space-time continuum ......
Having signed up, an equipment list to rival the sports gear requirement for Eton College arrived. So far I've got an ice axe of the requisite length from Errol car boot sale but that still leaves a considerable deficit of essential life preserving items.
The money would definitely be a complete waste without any attempt at a prior improvement to the Cardiovascular System, due to the inevitable increased demand for oxygen. Bearing this in mind a rigid training schedule has been instituted that follows a simple algorithm based on some character in Greek mythology. This chap was said to be strong enough to lift a bull. How did he train? Well he started with a new born calf apparently and set himself the daily task of hoisting this bovine off the ground and so as it grew, Theo's strength followed likewise.
So the Greek regime involves running in the gathering dusk then turning round and running back in the dark (this cleverly avoids meeting Brendan or any other dog walkers, because anyway he'll only ask me when I'm going to do his boiler flue). Now allowing one day for recovery (I think Theo made a mistake there), the trick is to increase the turn around point by about 200 yards on each occasion. Through a process of extrapolation the results can be predicted thus.
Theo increases his run by 2 x 200 yards every other day. How many weeks training would he require to be able to complete an ultra-marathon to Athens, a distance of 3890 kms?
First multiply 3890 x 0.624 to give miles =2427 miles then x 1760= 4,272,153 yds
Distance increase per day = 200 yards
therefore number of days = 4,272.153/200=21360 days /7 = 3051 weeks or 58 years. This can't be right because what happens to the schedule when it takes more than 2 days to turn around and run back?
If Theo jogs at 5 miles an hour in 48 hours he will have run 240 miles without stopping to eat. Therefore turning around at any point further than 120 miles from home requires that he would have to set off again on the next training session before he arrived back, thus causing a rupture in the space-time continuum ......
10th May Inverse Minimalism
Isabelle, like many women, subscribes to "Period Clutter" and "Chaotic Living". These publications keep their readerships informed as to what can currently be easily acquired to fill up a house. The unpalatable truth, though, is that we live in a finite universe... For every Boden catalogue, box, cushion or ornament that comes in through the front door unless there is a reciprocal departure of some other article the inevitable consequence will be: loss of space. I note with interest something on the TV about plotting peoples movements within their own home using electronic tagging. That would be very revealing, as 2 out of a total of 6 rooms here are no-go areas for me or anyone else because you can hardly get the door open. The remaining "free" rooms have whole swaves of occupied territory that are, to all intents, cut off from the outside world.
But what would life be without clutter, without attachment? Not just to things but people, places, husbands? "Hubby darling? They're having a Bring and Buy at the local church, d'you mind awfully if I let you go?"...
But what would life be without clutter, without attachment? Not just to things but people, places, husbands? "Hubby darling? They're having a Bring and Buy at the local church, d'you mind awfully if I let you go?"...
9th May Two Hearts Beat as One
I was served by Gary at the Hire shop today because I had to hire a Hoojar and a Thingummy that's too dear to justify buying. Gary''s a genial upbeat positive character but suffers perhaps a little from RES (Restless Energy Syndrome). Almost an over eagerness to oblige, to connect, but in the process of continuous banter not connecting, and so, keeping his distance like a sparring partner. He could be hard to get, to know deep down....
In earlier life Gary's heart was awakened and he felt in his chest the full fire of unbridled passion for (........). In those heady days of wild abandon he thought, nay he knew, that he would love (........) for the rest of his life. He felt that he could never love another, and that their two hearts, like in popular music, would always beat as one. Of course under the harsh spotlight of young married life on a restricted budget "always" amounted to about 3 years at the most. The truth was he didn't really know (..........) at all, and (.........) didn't really know Gary. It had all been a bit rash, a bit impulsive, and what a mess, what a dissapointment...
And then, when he was just himself again, what an expense having the laser treatment on that tattoo of the entwining hearts.
I wonder how (........)'s doing now?
In earlier life Gary's heart was awakened and he felt in his chest the full fire of unbridled passion for (........). In those heady days of wild abandon he thought, nay he knew, that he would love (........) for the rest of his life. He felt that he could never love another, and that their two hearts, like in popular music, would always beat as one. Of course under the harsh spotlight of young married life on a restricted budget "always" amounted to about 3 years at the most. The truth was he didn't really know (..........) at all, and (.........) didn't really know Gary. It had all been a bit rash, a bit impulsive, and what a mess, what a dissapointment...
And then, when he was just himself again, what an expense having the laser treatment on that tattoo of the entwining hearts.
I wonder how (........)'s doing now?
8th May Conversation in Old Mansion House with sea views
"Thats amazing all that original pine cladding" I said to John the Ex-Fireman looking round the kitchen and the apartment above.
"That's all coming out tomorrow"
"What! you're joking?"
"No, it's all getting stripped out and burnt, tomorrow"
"Why?"
"Gareth doesn't like it, thinks it's tacky"
"That's sacrilege"
"Well he's calling the shots. You should see the stuff we've burnt already"
"You must have seen some major fires in your time though?"
"oh aye, warehouse fires, full of Jute"
"yeah?"
"You couldn't put too much water on or the Jute bails would all swell up and push the walls out and the building wouild collapse"
"Really?"
"And Nightclubs. If the place wasn't doing very well they'd just torch it for the insurance, then it would be all done up, revamped and reopened a few months later"
""It's all changed now though. Health & Safety gone mad. You've got to make a risk assessment before entering a burning building, how can you do that when folk are screaming at the windows to get out ?"
"That's all coming out tomorrow"
"What! you're joking?"
"No, it's all getting stripped out and burnt, tomorrow"
"Why?"
"Gareth doesn't like it, thinks it's tacky"
"That's sacrilege"
"Well he's calling the shots. You should see the stuff we've burnt already"
"You must have seen some major fires in your time though?"
"oh aye, warehouse fires, full of Jute"
"yeah?"
"You couldn't put too much water on or the Jute bails would all swell up and push the walls out and the building wouild collapse"
"Really?"
"And Nightclubs. If the place wasn't doing very well they'd just torch it for the insurance, then it would be all done up, revamped and reopened a few months later"
""It's all changed now though. Health & Safety gone mad. You've got to make a risk assessment before entering a burning building, how can you do that when folk are screaming at the windows to get out ?"
7th May Journey to Risk Assessment
What can you say about today? Today was the sort of day that would seem like heaven, when viewed from the perspective of say Ward 4 (Mens Surgical) at PRI.
A marvellous day in fact, pain free. but there's still nothing you can say about today.
Well I stole some battery acid, the other day, but that wasn't today, it's not really stealing if its going to the dump is it ? Well it was actually at the dump or what we call nowadays The Recycling Centre, from the stock of old car batteries, it's just forbidden, public safety etc.
That means its the Green light for the Failing Eyesight M/C Club run, since the Suxuki at least starts now. Though my enjoyment of the world of two wheel thrills and spills is somewhat compromised by a bad case of RSP ( Road Surface Paranoia ).
Lets have a look shall we, at the stats?
Number of deaths per 1000 Million miles travelled
Airlines and trains Less than 1
Car drivers 5
Cyclists 50
Pedestrians 70
Motorcyclists 100
Course a transatlantic flight would take longer by foot, but that would be suicidal
as its only marginally safer than the lethal motorcycle.
A marvellous day in fact, pain free. but there's still nothing you can say about today.
Well I stole some battery acid, the other day, but that wasn't today, it's not really stealing if its going to the dump is it ? Well it was actually at the dump or what we call nowadays The Recycling Centre, from the stock of old car batteries, it's just forbidden, public safety etc.
That means its the Green light for the Failing Eyesight M/C Club run, since the Suxuki at least starts now. Though my enjoyment of the world of two wheel thrills and spills is somewhat compromised by a bad case of RSP ( Road Surface Paranoia ).
Lets have a look shall we, at the stats?
Number of deaths per 1000 Million miles travelled
Airlines and trains Less than 1
Car drivers 5
Cyclists 50
Pedestrians 70
Motorcyclists 100
Course a transatlantic flight would take longer by foot, but that would be suicidal
as its only marginally safer than the lethal motorcycle.
6th May Howard Carter's Diary
Back at 18 Reutevennen Strasse. I began removing slates to expose the roof of the half pyramidal attic/ dungeon. Then, cutting carefully through the boards, suddenly the darkness was pierced by shafts of light exposing the tomb in all its putridessence. The bright orange carpet, the blue and lemon walls, and at the far end a secret door.... Perhaps this part of the pyramid was merely an ante-chamber. I examined the exposed portion of the sealed doorway and noticed that the only decipherable impressions of the seals were those of the well-known Royal Necropolis. The doorway yielded to a screwdriver and I was able to peer in. It was a thrilling moment for an archeologist quite alone, to suddenly find himself, after so many years of toilsome work, on the verge of what looked like a magnificent discovery - an untouched tomb.
It was sometime before one could see, but as soon as one's eyes became accustomed to the glimmer of light the interior of the chamber gradually loomed before one, with its strange and wonderful medley of extraordinary and beautiful objects heaped upon one another.
My feelings of astonishment are difficult to describe at the revalation of the marvellous collection of treasures of a lost civilization: an ebony-black Matsui video recorder minus its plug; gilded baubles in strange forms; a foldaway xmas tree; exquisitely painted, inlaid, and ornamental decorations; a Tesco bag full of tinsel; a stoneware dinner service undisturbed since the xxth dyn; a home tanning salon (still boxed ); dark blue tiles and numerous tins of brightly hued gloss and emulsion. My sensations were bewildering and full of strange emotion, as to the meaning of it all. Was it a tomb or merely a cache?
It was sometime before one could see, but as soon as one's eyes became accustomed to the glimmer of light the interior of the chamber gradually loomed before one, with its strange and wonderful medley of extraordinary and beautiful objects heaped upon one another.
My feelings of astonishment are difficult to describe at the revalation of the marvellous collection of treasures of a lost civilization: an ebony-black Matsui video recorder minus its plug; gilded baubles in strange forms; a foldaway xmas tree; exquisitely painted, inlaid, and ornamental decorations; a Tesco bag full of tinsel; a stoneware dinner service undisturbed since the xxth dyn; a home tanning salon (still boxed ); dark blue tiles and numerous tins of brightly hued gloss and emulsion. My sensations were bewildering and full of strange emotion, as to the meaning of it all. Was it a tomb or merely a cache?
5th May Yeah, Yeah, It'll Be OK
Work has commenced on another flat ( Gordon Bennet! ) 18 Reutvennen Strasse. Its a one bedroomer coming in with a handy additional loft space with bright orange fitted carpet and dark blue feature walls. The lack of a window in the loft and its ease of locking makes an ideal space for imprisoning any child abducted from the nearby primary school. Alternatively if the stress of modern life is too much why not lock yourself away for several months ? A computer desk is provided if a link to the outside is at all necessary... My first task was to bring daylight to this. if you will, attic dungeon. I set to... the temperature began to rise in the unventilated loft as the afternoon wore on. Clearly rafters would have to be cut to get the Velux window in. Fibreglass particles and slate dust filled the air... and the sweat dripped as I sawed merriy through whatever structural timber happened to be in the way.... confident that it would "be OK", and it was, like it usually is.
Usually, but not always. A few years ago It wasn't OK when cutting through some structural steelwork in the attic at 13 Murrayshall Terrace. a steel framed house. There was a huge bang, clearly audible above the racket of the Stihl saw. A brief inspection showed that the upper floor of the entire house had suddenly and irreversibly gone down about 1/2 inch. This had all happened straight above the head of an elderly occupant who was still sat watching the TV, largely unaware....
Usually, but not always. A few years ago It wasn't OK when cutting through some structural steelwork in the attic at 13 Murrayshall Terrace. a steel framed house. There was a huge bang, clearly audible above the racket of the Stihl saw. A brief inspection showed that the upper floor of the entire house had suddenly and irreversibly gone down about 1/2 inch. This had all happened straight above the head of an elderly occupant who was still sat watching the TV, largely unaware....
4th May Life of a Yogi (continued from wednesday)
Another day slips by like a Mediteranean cruise except I have to do a little work and there's no meals provided, well I tell a lie, Mrs Prambleson provided soup.
Time travel through the Mediterranean. Walk in the footsteps of pharaohs and prophets one day, cheer on the ghosts of gladiators the next.
Whether sailing the ancient waters of the Aegean or visiting ports along the Black Sea, this is a journey of great adventure. Venice. Athens. Rhodes. Methven and Limassol. Longforgan and Istanbul. And Brechin, home of the fabled lost Atlantis. These are but a few of the names that send the imagination on a timeless expedition to the birthplace of the gods.
You may sit in the ruins of a Greek amphitheater, and you can almost hear the words of Euripedes echoing from the stage. Lose yourself in the bold brush strokes of a Picasso. Or luxuriate in the soulful Sardana music played in warm Spanish cafes. Each destination a journey unto itself; all a treasure to remember. (Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.........)
Time travel through the Mediterranean. Walk in the footsteps of pharaohs and prophets one day, cheer on the ghosts of gladiators the next.
Whether sailing the ancient waters of the Aegean or visiting ports along the Black Sea, this is a journey of great adventure. Venice. Athens. Rhodes. Methven and Limassol. Longforgan and Istanbul. And Brechin, home of the fabled lost Atlantis. These are but a few of the names that send the imagination on a timeless expedition to the birthplace of the gods.
You may sit in the ruins of a Greek amphitheater, and you can almost hear the words of Euripedes echoing from the stage. Lose yourself in the bold brush strokes of a Picasso. Or luxuriate in the soulful Sardana music played in warm Spanish cafes. Each destination a journey unto itself; all a treasure to remember. (Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.........)
3rd May Honeycomb, Height and Enlightenment
Talking to Mrs Prambleson the Yoga teacher today about a near death incident back in foggy November, involving bees at the top of Methven Castle. My attention had been distracted by the aggravated insects coming out of a huge honeycomb inside the chimney. At the time I was standing on a short piece of ladder balanced on the ridge of the roof some five storeys above the car park. Unnoticed the ladder slipped sideways and with a sudden twist I'd lost it, falling - witnessed only by the aforementioned bees.
As luck would have it I landed on a single plank which I had across the valley gutter. For a few moments I thought I was cashing in my policy, so to speak. The weird thing was it didn't seem to matter. Not that I was feeling suicidal or anything... Mrs P predictably saw this as an almost zen-like detachment, something that can take lifetime(s) to acheive. The use of the plural let slip the fact that despite making a nice cup of tea Mrs P subscribed to certain untestable beliefs... Probably including the fact that the guy that came to install their new stove had broken free from the wheel of life and hence, the cycle of endless reincarnation, by achieving freedom from desire and pure enlightenment....errrr....
As luck would have it I landed on a single plank which I had across the valley gutter. For a few moments I thought I was cashing in my policy, so to speak. The weird thing was it didn't seem to matter. Not that I was feeling suicidal or anything... Mrs P predictably saw this as an almost zen-like detachment, something that can take lifetime(s) to acheive. The use of the plural let slip the fact that despite making a nice cup of tea Mrs P subscribed to certain untestable beliefs... Probably including the fact that the guy that came to install their new stove had broken free from the wheel of life and hence, the cycle of endless reincarnation, by achieving freedom from desire and pure enlightenment....errrr....
2nd May East Face of 61 Burrell St, Surreal Route (Hard Very Severe)
The weather was not encouraging. After an early breakfast of condensed oatmeal I made steady progress up the 28 foot aluminium extension ladder. Suddenly I felt a horrible tremor and moments later a 2 foot flake of old red sandstone cleaved off the face falling straight down into a tub of decorative shrubbery. But from my high viewpoint I could see there was no other route. Compared to the risks hundreds of people take every year on the other side of the mountain in the Khumbu icefall, it seemed quite reasonable. Now I was on a band of cast iron guttering. trailing over 5 metres of heavy roof ladder; it was starting to drag me down but I could not bear to stop, revelling in the next set of steep moves, impatient to see over the top of the headwall...
I had always been inspired by the great fighters- Hermann Buhl pushing on alone to the summit of Nanga Parbat, Bonatti on the Walker Spur in winter... The next section was an exciting pitch of 45 degree slates; behind me cloud shadowed the wall of number 58 and as I glanced nervously up to the zinc ridge and beyond, the final pinnacle of the chimney stack beckoned... There was no doubt it was a dangerous game...
I had always been inspired by the great fighters- Hermann Buhl pushing on alone to the summit of Nanga Parbat, Bonatti on the Walker Spur in winter... The next section was an exciting pitch of 45 degree slates; behind me cloud shadowed the wall of number 58 and as I glanced nervously up to the zinc ridge and beyond, the final pinnacle of the chimney stack beckoned... There was no doubt it was a dangerous game...
1st May In A Holiday Mood
It's clear that life's just about over when you have to spend a bank holiday afternoon trawling around Dobbies Garden Centre along with herds of other greying individuals in various stages of physical and mental corruption. Loading up a trolley with strawberry plants at 99 pence each, and a few packets of vegetable seeds, Isabelle intimates "It'll be at least £50" . If I'd said to the woman at the check out " Shall we just call it 50 quid?" that would have been the bargain of a lifetime.
" That'll be £118.93"
"?"
"It was the seeds, they're about £2 each"
"What, per actual seed?"
" That'll be £118.93"
"?"
"It was the seeds, they're about £2 each"
"What, per actual seed?"
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