Day of rest

Regardless of your religion or lack thereof, a day of rest during the week can only be a good thing. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to restrict driving, cooking (unless you're a chef - then it's nice to have a break) and reading, but to have a chill out day, one that's a constant, week-in and week-out, is a civilized way to live. For me, that day would be Sunday. I say would be, because at the moment I'm standing behind the counter at the shop, suffering the onslaught of Sunday shoppers. Sunday shoppers and Sunday drivers have a great deal in common. Everything thing is slow and with no direction. 3 Glaswegian grannies will hover around our whisky miniatures debating for half an hour whether to buy the Famous Grouse or White Horse as they're both the same price and both suck but of course they don't know that so they ask me when I really couldn't give less of a fuck. I should be sprawled on my couch wearing cozy clothes and slippers reading the Sunday papers, sipping tea and drifting in and out of a nap. But no, the grannies must have their miniature. Or do do they? Sure enough, they realise that they don't need it anyway as the person's birthday isn't until 2007 but they'll come back then. That's 30 minutes of my life they've ripped from me. Then there are the browsers, lurking, staring vacantly at bottles with absolutely no intention of purchasing anything, about as likely to buy the £100 whisky they're looking at as GWB is to take a public IQ test. And the ones who ask prices and don't fucking listen when you tell them. And people who bring prams into a wine shop and complain about wine boxes being everywhere. Of course there are wine boxes everywhere you yuppy scum. It's what we fucking sell. It's not our job to cater for your bloody babies: they can't buy our fucking product. Although the one in the shop looks almost big enough to buy her own fucking booze anyway - what's she doing in a pram?!

There's a titular rant for you.

On the plus side, I just found the Kaiser Chief's cover of I Heard It Through The Grapevine and it's truly awesome. I'm not generally a fan of covers, and Marvin Gaye's original is a legendary tune. But this is brilliant. Thumping bass and punky fun.

My colleague is late and I'm getting very hungry. What to do for lunch?

Cozy clothes time

It's wet, windy and horrible at the moment. And I don't really mind. It's my first day off in 11 days and I'm enjoying a cozy jumper, comfy jeans and flannel lined slippers. I can take the rubbish weather - even enjoy it. I would have a nice cup of tea but there's only skimmed milk in the house. It's just chalky water. And while I can enjoy the rubbish weather, enjoying it is based on looking out the window rather than actually going out in it.

I packed. Finally. I sent about 100kg of clothes and books down to London yesterday. At a guess, I'd say it was close to half of the stuff I need to send. The secret was drinking a bottle of nice wine with dinner, then having a couple of beers while packing. I also watched the "Sahara" DVD, which was huge amounts of fun. Just straight up outrageous adventure.

I would be lying though, if I said I didn't get a bit choked up while packing my stuff away.Up to 11 years worth of memories. That's a lot.

I got some pictures back from the developers. There were a few from the tail end of the polo, and the rest were from Shorehead. I'm pretty proud of this one. I know lense flare is meant to be something to avoid but I think it looks cool in this. I'm also not entirely sure how to avoid it yet (still very new to this). But that's St Andrews pier and East Sands in the morning sun with the clouds doing some crazy panoramic stuff. It's a good hangover cure, that view.

This was a total spur of the moment shot from my balcony. I really like the colour in it. If I'd taken my time, I perhaps could have framed it without the white van. But then I would have lost the bottom corner of the poo bin. I dunno. I'm just really pleased because I wasn't trying to take pictures of fishermen, I was just hanging out on the balcony and as soon as I saw this guy loading up I just thought "I need a shot of this". I feel pretentious now. Because I like a picture I took of a guy wearing yellow wellies.

Dinner last night was nice. I did lemon sole instead of haddock (the haddock didn't look all that great to be honest). Fish is still a mystery to me, so when I get it right there's a smile on my face.
I promised myself I wouldn't talk about anything that was upsetting my guest. She's been low recently and has had a lot of other people helping and sometimes not helping with their opinions and advice. I've done the same. I figured the best thing to do was to just have a nice dinner and talk about life otherwise. It wasn't easy. I like shooting my mouth off and I hate seeing friends hurt. This combination has lead to vitriolic rants regarding the causes of hurting that can be unappreciated when I (obviously) don't know 100% of what's going on because, to a large extent, it's none of my fucking business.
So we had a lovely evening instead of a rant. We also had ice cream. Ice cream may well be the physical antithesis of a rant.
She asked me what I thought of Katrina and everything surrounding it.

My thought is this: shit happens. That's why we developed sewers. If the sewer is fucked when shit happens, then shit gets everywhere. It turns out that our sewage system is a pre-Victorian haven for otherwise failed and incompetent public works officials who, while knowing that shit happens, hoped that it wouldn't happen on their shift as they don't know how to run a fucking sewer. It happened on their shift. And they are the sewer. So they should all be sacked. Especially the head of the Sewage Works. Then of course, the sewer needs to be rebuilt.

Sorry about that. Don't often get political here. I usually have better things to do.

The rain's stopped. Might go get some milk for my tea.

Morning tunes and some notes

"Modern Way" - Kaiser Chiefs. I just really like this tune and this album (Employment).

"Hounds of Love" - The Futureheads. Brilliant cover. Who'd've thought Kate Bush could sound so punk?

"It's Oh So Quiet" - Lisa Ekdahl. I have a lot of different recordings of this song by many different artists. Commensurate with my mood of late, this version is best suited as it is actually quiet and reflective.

"Concierto De Aranjuez (Adagio)" - Miles Davis. From Sketches of Spain; this is brilliant music, and is perfect to play if you're somewhere you don't really want to be, such as work.

I found out that almost immediately upon my return to London, my parents are going to the States for 6 weeks. Be careful what you wish for; some time on my own to write has become more on my own than I'd planned. Well, aside from when I was thinking about marooning myself on an island off the West of Scotland. That would have been pretty "on my own" to say the least. Still, I'll have a massive fucking house in West London all to myself. That'll be nice. And not lonely at all, honest.

Still no nano.

I ate a whole Marmaris pizza last night. It was big. Then, I pretty much went to bed - around 10ish. No writing, no packing (still yet to happen). I think I'm getting some rest while I still can. Or, I'm being fat and lazy.

The only emails I've been getting of late have been trying to sell me wine that I cannot afford.

A friend is coming over for dinner tomorrow night. I think she needs some cheering up. Pan-fried haddock with home fries, roasted tomatoes with something green on the side. Honey ice cream with homemade butterscotch sauce for dessert. How could that not cheer someone up?

Part of me has already left St Andrews. It's waiting for the rest of me.

Wednesday morning notes

My iPod nano has yet to arrive. The longer it takes to get here, the more I question my decision to buy it in the first place. The turmoil, the angst.

Go and see the 40-Year-Old-Virgin. It's surprisingly funny, well-written, well-performed and a genuinely good film. My current drought is no big deal compared to this. It's good to have perspective.

The Ashes. I have actually been excited by cricket the last few months. I have lived in Britain for 16 years and have resisted it. But this has been a remarkable competition, and I'm glad England won.

Shop cricket. Yes, we play cricket it a wine shop. It's silly - we played last night accompanied by port followed by beer. It is the best way to play cricket. I personally smashed over £60 worth of stemware. Oops. A bottle of non-alcoholic beer was destroyed, but that was Andy throwing a bean bag at Veronica. Nobody cried over that one. My spin-bowling needs work but my slow ball is a killer.

Sox lost to the Blue Jays last night. They beat them the night before. I suppose there's balance in the world.

I've been looking at digital SLRs online and drooling. With everything in my life at the moment I cannot justify it. But that doesn't mean I don't want it.

I cooked sausage and mash with my homemade red onion gravy. It tasted ace. I'm hungry.

This pic is from the Highland Ball last month and is of myself and the now-married Victoria Ross-Taylor. Just thought I'd put a pic up of people as opposed to ruins. I was pretty ruined the morning after this was taken to be honest.

A friend of mine seems to be tightening toothpaste caps. Or something. I got a text saying she's doing the worst job in the world, quoting from Willy Wonka, where the dad tightens caps on the toothpaste. I'm not sure if it's metaphorically comparative, in which case she's doing something as bad and as mindnumbing, but not actually tightening toothpaste caps, or if she's literally tightening toothpaste caps. Either way, it sucks, and I hope that Chacchus, Bacchus's brother, the Chocolate God, visits fine chocolate upon her.

I remember one job having to make over 600 grilled cheese sandwiches in a morning. And not nice cheese either. No, this was pure plastic kraft slices. It was horrible. It took a very long time before I could enjoy a toastie or rarebit again.

Night walks and beer...

One of the problems with being a rambunctious and, well, loud, individual is that when you don't behave in such a manner, people think there's something horrendously wrong with you. I'm in quiet mode right now. I'm actually a pretty quiet person in general, though I make a lot of noise to hide it. It's just I don't have much to say right now. There's only so many times I can explain to people that I'm excited and nervous and there is a lot on my mind. And it's not all bad. So I've had a lot of "Are you ok?" with heartfelt concern thrown at me. It is heartwarming. But I am ok. I may not be behaving to type, I may be in my own little world, but I'm fine. I am preparing to write a novel. Much of my dialogue will internal at the moment.
Anyway, these shots were taken the other night on an extended walk to meet people in the pub. They bailed because they suck. But I did get some nice nightshots of St Andrews. I don't have a tripod or a monopod, so for the first picture I used my knee to steady the camera. It's from the beginning of the St Andrews pier, looking towards the castle ruins at sunset. I thought it was a good idea to take some night shots as a great deal of my novel takes place in St Andrews at night and while I have many vivid memories of the town at night, writing the book in Chiswick means that I won't be able to just pop out and make sure I've got things right. This shot of the chapel came out quite cool. I took it holding my camera through the gate entrance on Butts Wynd.
I spent a lot of the time considering what places meant the most to me and how best to represent them. I walked by my old flat, a slightly fictionalised version of which will be where the main character in the book lives. I haven't lived there in seven years. I know that the best years of your life are meant to be this one and the next, but looking back on my life I certainly see academic year '98-'99 as a very close run third. The flat was called Castlegate.
It was a short walk to the cathedral so I decided to take a couple of shots. It's important in terms of the book. I can't really say why yet.
Then I got a text from Andy saying he needed a beer, so my voyage to the pub was resurrected. Which was good as I really did need a beer or two. He'd been down South helping his mum out with some personal stuff and needed to unwind. I'd been walking around St Andrews for 2 hours and was pretty drained.

I received a wedding invitation this morning. It is the third I've got for a wedding in November. November, it would seem, is the new May. These invitations do a fantastic job at reminding me that I'm single at 29.

If you see me, and I'm acting quiet, say hi. Please don't ask if I'm ok.

A September Miscellany...

A few strange things have been happening of late. Some of them my business, some of them not. I try not to comment on the stuff that isn't my business.

First off, I bumped in to the mother of an ex yesterday. Talk about feeling violated. It's not that I don't like her - she's a lunatic and that often inspires affection from me. It's just that she wasn't meant to be here. She's meant to be in Ireland. And there she was, strolling down Church St as though she owned it. I desperately tried to seem as delighted to see her as she seemed to see me. I think the look of shock on my face pleased her. So we chatted on the street, me grinning like an idiot and then she followed me to the shop. It turns out my ex's entire immediate family are in town. Now granted, this is an ex 5 years since. It's still weird. I think it always will be.

Secondly, there's yet another house guest. And he's an old mate and huge amounts of fun and a corrupting influence of high standing. But I just don't need it right now. The night before last was a fun opportunity to catch up, eat well and drink well. But I need to hide now. And hiding in St Andrews isn't as easy as it looks. Especially when I have to be at work for 8 hours, and as such people will know where the fuck I am.

Thirdly: extrovert clothing. A friend and I were catching up and the subject turned to a mutual mate whose dress sense was nothing but straight-laced conservative. Fine shirts, ironed to a razor point, cords, chinos and jeans of the non-worn variety. Nice, classic jumpers - you know the type. However, underneath this rigid ensemble were, without fail, the most outrageous socks you could imagine. Bright, flamboyant and generally silly socks that could hurt the eyes depending on design. Brilliant.

I think it's healthy to have a bit of extrovert clothing. I'm not a fashionable person. I wear various combinations of jeans and t-shirts. In the summer it's shorts and t-shirts. I'm in a perpetual state of being slightly underdressed. I'm happy with this. It means I'm comfortable. But I too have my extrovert item of clothing. Boxers. It's fun. It's like that Calvin & Hobbes cartoon where Calvin is strutting through each panel with a massive grin, his mother looking at him as though he's insane. The last panel has him reflecting that not everyone appreciates how amazing he is when he wears his rocket ship underpants. Or something like that. So I wear outrageous boxers and it sometimes prompts a small grin. It's not like anyone's going to see them, the way things have been going of late.

So - what pieces of clothing do you wear that are that little bit silly? Socks? Boxers? Thongs? T-shirts? S & M gear? Trousers? Hats? Sarongs? Answers in comments. I'm curious.

I've moved my driving test to 17 October. But now it's in Dundee. Ugh. Still need something sooner. Just want it over and done with.

Summer has left Scotland. It is dark, grey, cold and ominous.

I haven't packed anything yet. I should do, I know that. I should pack up the massive amounts of books and clothes that I am neither going to read or wear between now and when I leave. Soon.

It's my mother's birthday today. I remembered to send a card yesterday. I sent it Special Delivery. I hope it gets there today. I've already phoned to wish her a happy birthday. She sounded like she was having a good day so far.

I bought an iPod nano. Compulsive and stupid when one's income is coming to a halt in a month? Compulsive and stupid when I have not one, but two other iPods? Yes. To both. It hasn't arrived yet though. Monday. Really looking forward to it.

Hiding...

There's a lot of washing up to do. So I'm hiding in my room, not packing.
I have this idea that if I pack a bag every day and ship it down to London, there won't be any mad rush when I actually leave. This is delusional, but I'm happy with that.
Hiding is being made easier by my newly acquired copy of The Magic Numbers' cover of Crazy in Love (yes, the Beyoncé song). It's so cool.

Anyone can now comment on these posts by the way. I've changed it. Now all I need is someone to read the posts to comment on them.

Balancing act...

The feeling has returned to the tip of my right ring finger. To this day, Thursday, I have no idea why it went funny in the first place. But it's fine now.
The meal I referred to in my last post was indeed as wonderful as I'd hoped. The wines were indeed exceptional. I have a rule about wine chat on this blog though, so if you want to see what we drank and how it tasted, check it out here.
To be honest, my favourite part of the evening was the end, with Pete W, myself and Pete C sitting on the floor of the cellar, merrily chatting nonsense. I'm sure we solved the problems of the world. We lost the piece of paper we wrote them down on though.
The next day (Monday) was pretty lazy. Not really hungover, just kind of slow. I took this picture (above), which still makes me laugh. Tiny, the oriental shorthair, looks so totally unamused; a nice contrast to Pete C looking totally amused. We drank champagne with bacon butties, did a partial stock take of the cellar and then went riding.
The riding was wonderful. That part of Northern Fife has no shortage of stunning scenery and the horses were lovely. I rode Pico, who seems to know that I'm effectively a beginner, and is very patient with me. We cantered, slipping occasionally into a gallop, and it was brilliant. I hadn't been that fast on a horse for 15 years and while there was the hint of fear, that made it all the better. I whooped and hollared a few times, I can tell you. Hanging on for dear life brings that out of me.
We rode as the sun was going down and as the haar was coming in. The surrounding valleys being slowly over run by the mist coming in from the sea. Sadly it's not easy to take great pictures from the back of a horse, so they didn't come out brilliantly. But this should give a bit of an idea. We managed to avoid the fog throughout. The sunset was incredible, the mist on the horizon turning the sun itself almost red. But I was riding too fast to get my camera out. Sometimes memories are better than photos anyway. I had my stirrups too short, so my legs felt like rusty stumps by the end. It was worth it though.
We went for a curry that night with Jo & Ellie, who seemed in pretty good form. Great food at the Balaka but the coffee is shite.
The last couple of days have been a bit of a see-saw. I've had more great food, some dreadul whiskies and some lovely whiskies. I've tidied my room a bit. I've contemplated packing. One second I'm ready to jump on a train and fuck off home, the next I'm standing on my balcony, wondering what I've done and wishing I could stay there forever. It's a bit of a see-saw; up and down. It's going to be ok.

More cool & uncool (Or, "Is There Balance In The Force?")

This is from my back garden in London - it had been pouring with rain all day but began to clear up just as the sun was setting. I really like this shot.

I'm mildly frazzled at the moment. Everyone's asking me to explain, precisely, what I'm going to London to do. And I don't really know. Ok, that's a lie. I do know. I'm going to write. But just saying that is a bit embarrassing. I don't know why. So instead I say I'm finishing some writing "projects". Which sounds like a bunch of bullshit and more pretentious than if I just said, "I'm going to write". It's my own insecurities creeping up on me.

Anyway. The number of people who've been supportive warms the heart. I never expected to be congratulated for leaving my job. But it's apt. And the genuine interest it's generating is enouraging.

The tip of my right ring finger has suddenly gone numb. I have no idea why. It happened while I was moving laundry from the washing machine to the tumble drier. Unaware that there must be some complicated series of finger stretching exercises to prepare for such exertion, I just leapt in an did it. Silly me. Having said that, if prep were actually required for every action, no one would do anything. And action is worth a few numb fingertips. Even if it is weirding me out.

What's cool at the moment:
Dinner - I'm cooking tonight. Wild smoked salmon to start and roast gigot of lamb as a main course. The wines will be exceptional.
Kaiser Chiefs - New album. Enjoying it a great deal.
Moving to London - Is very cool. I'm giddy. I've said that before. I'll probably say it again.
My friends - Have been, are, and always will be truly amazing people. At the height of self-doubt, you realise you must be a good person for such wonderful people to like, love and care for you. Even when they act weird. Especially when they act weird.
The haar - The sea fog is in today, and usually I hate it. But it's fighting a battle with brilliant sunshine. It provides calm entertainment.
My cuppa - I didn't have any beer in the fridge. Odd. So I made myself a cup of tea instead. It's tasting ace. Really. Instead of beer; who'd've thought?
Atonement - reading a new book. It's very good. And I actually have some time to read it. To be honest, I've only just started it, but it's starting well.
Ireland - fate is bringing me to the emerald isle twice in a week (my brother-in-law's 40th and my mate's wedding). So I think I may go once and make a holiday of it. This is where I hope I have both a driving license and a car. I've not been to Ireland since my nephew's christening. That was 5 years and 2 girlfriends ago. And I've been single for 2 1/2 years. So it's an overdue trip.
My "Summer 2005" mix and my "New Mix 2001" - great tunes for walking around London, or indeed anywhere. I may even post the playlists if people want to know what's on them.
The person who set this up - live information on New Orleans. Totally non-profit. There are some truly good people in this world.

What's uncool at the moment:
War - in general.
Numb fingertips - Seriously. It's weird.
The haar - An example of the duality and hypocrisy of life.
The aftermath of Katrina - An act of nature in itself cannot be uncool. The devastation compounded by human error can be uncool and is uncool. As is the suffering. In fact, it's not uncool, it's horrendous.
Failing - My driving test. The epitome of uncool.
Single for 2 1/2 years - I'm not that bad. Honest. What's up with that?!

Once again there is more that is cool in the world than uncool. Or in my world at least. Aside from weird fingertip issues.

They knew

This is upsetting. There are loads of smart-arse comments that could be made, but in the end it's just sad. I'll be making a Red Cross donation, because I feel I have to. I just hope it will be spent well.

Dream-chasing, car-driving, tree-climbing and hedgehogs

I saw this hedgehog on my walk home last night. It was just marching along the harbour side, doing its thing. From a distance I thought it was a rat as they are far more likely to be seen kicking about harbours. As I got closer I thought it was not just a rat, but a massive hound-of-hell sized rat, so obviously I had to get even closer. Instead it was a hedgehog. Not your standard harbourside wildlife. I was fascinated; my mother's a huge fan of hedgehogs, ever since Monty Python's "Spiny Norman - The Hedgehog that Ate New York" sketch. I must confess that some of it rubbed off on me and I was well chuffed to see one. It was yet another odd thing that has happened of late.

I handed in my letter of resignation on Tuesday. I was petrified. My mind was going over every worst-case scenario possible, probable, improbable an impossible. I was imagining screaming matches, lost friends, slammed doors, burnt bridges - the lot. It made me weary, and pretty soon the chances of a happy outcome were lost in my mind. I don't know why. Poison head hitting again. But it was fine. Andy was so cool about it - congratulating me and telling me it was the right decision at the right time. My life's ahead of me and happening. The owners don't seem bitter at all, though a bit sad at my departure.

It was simple really. I want to do a lot with my life, be it writing, acting, directing or treasure-hunting. I could do none of these things being a wine merchant in St Andrews. The longer I was a wine-merchant in St Andrews the less likely it was I would do the things I felt I was meant to be doing.

So I'm moving to London next month, and going to be writing. I want to finish a first draft of my novel before the new year. I'm going to be living at home for the first 4 or 5 months, then hopefully back up north to Edinburgh. Nothing's set in stone yet. I'm giddy with excitement though. And giddy isn't something I've been all that familiar with recently.

When I was in high school, I'd take a free period and go to my favourite tree and climb up. There'd usually be a couple of my friends up there doing the same thing. We were excited; about where we were and being young and silly and having life ahead of us. We were giddy. It's like that again. And there's no better feeling. And I thought nothing could bring me down from it.

Until I failed my driving test yesterday. That sucked. I walked in, having successfully resigned, thinking that everything was going to go that well from now on and totally succumbed to nerves. I drove like it was my first time and didn't think at all. As a bonus, my manoeuvres were fine, as was my gear-changing. Just mirror/signal disasters. So I was moping yesterday afternoon. But apparently the best drivers fail first time. So I'll take that as cold comfort. I just hope a get close cancellation date - I'm signed up for 14 November, by which point I'll have been in London for a month. want my license now. It serves me right for waiting 12 years to get it, but still. I just want it over and done with. Hmmmm... So if anyone reading this has a test (in Cupar) in the next fortnight and doesn't really feel like it, let me know. There's a nice bottle in it for you!

Clear winner

I think I may have been somewhat hasty when I claimed that the "feed me" t-shirt was as cool as this. Perhaps it was something to do with the old, "if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with" adage. I didn't have this in London, as it was dirty and I feel I've grown out of dumping piles of dirty laundry on my parents upon arrival. As such, missing my cool new t-shirt, I latched onto the first t-shirt that made a connection. Do I feel guilt? Sort of. "Feed me" and I will never be the same. I used it, emotionally. I'll still wear it, wash it and, occasionally, fold it. I can be cold. Maybe when the banana slug is in the laundry we'll share an awkward moment, tempted by the fling that was London. But it will never be the same...

PS: This is in no way a capitulation to the comments here. Compare for yourself - the slug is just cooler.

Black & White

So - I got my first black and white film back. I can't decide whether to be pleased or not. About 10 of the 36 pics were ok. This is a shot of the pier in the morning sun. I was on my way to work. The next is a polo action shot that came out fairly well. I only took it in black and white because that was what film was in the camera. It was a pretty grey day, so not much for contrast. The next couple of shots are pure light and texture experiments, taken at Naughton. I think I'm happy with these because I got what I meant to get, or as close to it as possible.
The people shots didn't come out as well as I'd been hoping. In fact, I'm convinced that I have no idea what I'm doing, but I like this, even though it's not as sharp as it probably should be.

New t-shirt

This is the logo on my new t-shirt. It is now one of my 2 favourites, in its own way as appropriate and cool as the banana slug. Neither are formal wear, but both reflective of me. Will eventually have a banana slug pic up, put them side-by-side, and you, my imaginary readers, can decide which you like best. They are equal to me.

London musings

This trip has been illuminating. I love London; my family has lived here for 16 years and I know it well. I was surprised though, at how relaxed I was walking the streets yesterday. I covered a reasonable distance as well.
I met Adam for lunch near Smithfield. Nice, though trendy, place called Meet. A play on words, being next to London's premier meat market. We both had burgers and neither had a beer. We both fancied a walk afterwards and he took me over to St Bart's Church, an ancient church attached to its eponymous hospital. I'd never been. It was one of those treasured nooks in the city that many people just miss. Including me, I guess. It survived the great fire. It had been delicately restored where necessary. This was important to Adam as historical preservation is his business. It was peaceful, as churches should be. I found myself reflective. I felt the same vibe from Adam. Regardless of faith, or lack thereof, it inspired calm. Adam's not religious and what faith I have bears little relation or loyalty to that spoken from the pulpit; nevertheless, I was moved.
After we said goodbye I made the decision to walk, in the rain, from Farringdon station to Regent St. It was raining, but not hard, and it had been awhile since I'd been in London. And the burger was sitting heavily. It wasn't the most direct route. I passed the Rolls Buildings and thought on my degree and former aspirations to academia. The buildings are significant and rarely mentioned in the guidebooks, guardhouses of the writs, rolls, orders and precedent that form the unwritten constitution that guides the running of this, my adopted home. Or is supposed to at least. I wonder when the last time Tony rocked by to check something out. He seems to kind of wing it. Wanker.
As I came up towards Tottenham Court Road (an old stomping ground in my teens due to the high concentration of comic book shops and the proximity of the British Museum - big geek am I) it seemed no different to me than walking up Market St when it was busy. London truly is a large collection of small villages. Whoever wrote that (I would ask my non-existent readers to leave the answer in a comment) becomes more right with every year.
It took about 45 minutes to get to Regent St. I geeked at the Apple Store for awhile and resisted the urge to buy anything and got the tube home. The tube and the city in general were pretty chilled. People of all shades carrying all shapes of backpack were given as much attention as a guy in a suit. None. The presence of uniformed police at the odd station didn't raise many an eyebrow. This town has had it much worse, and the casual attitude people held, in spite of all, was another comfort. I almost felt guilty for the pride that brought a smile to my face. I haven't lived here properly for 9 years. But it's still home to me.
I got home and had to work. So much so that I didn't show up to the gig that I'd been put on the guestlist for; I felt a bit of an arse.
Tuesday night, as Kate's gig was cancelled, I met with Ru and Marcus for a pint at The Dove. A great pub. They seemed well. Ru got a job and Marcus was doing well in his. They're my academic sons and it sounds silly, but I am very proud of them in an almost fatherly way. I also despair and think they're morons; also in a fatherly way. I took this picture. What a view. You wouldn't think you were in London. You can almost see my house on the right bank. That pic was taken with my new phone. So I am using it as a camera. Oh well. Ru & Marcus asked what I was doing with my life. I said I wasn't sure, but Edinburgh, London and St Andrews would play a part. That was pretty obvious. We went back to mine and ate a curry, drank beer and shot the shit with my folks.
Today was a work day. Got the wireless network fixed for the house. Finally. It's taken a year. I had an instructive chat with my dad regarding his phone, teaching him how to call someone. I told my parents the plan I'd been concocting since I got home, regarding my life, the universe and everything. They seemed pretty cool with it. I'm not going to jump out and say it here just yet. The time will come though. Very soon.
We went to The Ivy tonight. One of dad's old university friends joined us, a great guy. The food and wines were excellent and the chat nice. There was a cool photography show on tv when we got home.

I would say that I could get used to London very quickly, but I already am.
This was the view from my front garden on Wednesday night after the rain stopped. I have not retouched this photograph in anyway. That's what it was like.

I'm sorry - this post is a bit more whimsical, wordy and self-important than I normally am. Hard to believe really. I'm trying to say as much as I can without saying it. And when I'm at a loss for words, sometimes I say the wrong ones. On the plus side, I'm listening to the first collection of duets between Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. I've never heard it before. I have the second one, which is brilliant. But this is wonderful too. Pick it up if you get a chance.

Weekend hijinx and slugs...

As you can see from this photo, it was a weekend of some note. This was taken Friday night, when the revellers arrived at Naughton and the first beers, wines and whatever were cracked. Pete C whipped out this outrageous shirt & shades combo to, seemingly, put the moves on Pete W. I was laughing so hard that were it not for the miracle of autofocus this would be a great big blur. Fortunately Pete C got changed, and as more people arrived people started clicking the way they do when there are big events coming and everyone just wants to have a great time.
As we all got to know each other and the beers got drunk I stepped out for a minute to have a look at the moon. It was incredible. A fog rested on the hill of Gauldry in front of Naughton, above which the moon shone so bright you almost had to squint. The fog cascaded down the hillside, absorbing the trees as it approached. I fumbled with my camera, but after a half-hearted attempt I decided this would be one I needed to burn into my memory, not onto a negative, or a memory card. The effort and time to find the right settings and whatnot would have lost me the moment. I sipped and looked, as did the others.
As the party went on the sensible went to bed and the less so took to the kitchen, bastion of late night partying that it is. This was where the infamous mirror debate took place between Lil and Pete C while Pete W, Nancy & Sam looked on, amazed. It stretched the boundaries of physics, philosophy and optical illusion. It made me laugh so had I snarfed my beer. I even took video footage.
The next day was the polo. The TMI Festival Cup match between Scotland and Wales. The day was glorious, as only Scotland can be. I didn't have to tow the corporate line after all, and was able enjoy the day without schmoozing. I took charge of the BBQ and the booze started flowing. The women, without exception, were looking stunning. And were lovely, wonderful company to boot. As were the guys, though slightly more of a strain on the eye, but just because Pete wasn't wearing his shirt. Instead he seemed to be hell bent on playing brilliant polo. This is him riding Milly (a nickname, I have idea how to spell her real name) with 2 Welsh players on his tail. They may have seen him that shirt; you never know.
Scotland lost. Ah well. Someone joked beforehand that if Scotland lost then Pete would get Man-of-the-Match. It was either Dave or me, but the whole thing is sort of fuzzy, though it was probably Dave. Or maybe me. In any case, whoever it was, was right. Pete got Man-of-the-Match and Best-Played-Pony for Floretta.It would have been nice if they'd managed to have their cake and eat it too. I, of course, missed the presen- tations as I'd gotten bored and had headed off to clear up. It was only when I saw Lil and James running Floretta up to the crowd that it clicked. So no pics or anything like that. We had to run pretty quick as it was the Highland Ball afterwards.
I don't think Dundee had ever seen 3 busloads of blacktied, ballgowned, hyperactive twentysomethings rock up to their 24 hour Tesco to get cash for the night ahead. But it was a cash only bar and we all needed to load up. The bad news is that the ball was being held at the new pavillon at the Perth Races. Basically an atmosphere vacuum. But the company was brilliant. Hardcore allday boozing, sun and a tight schedule meant that there was quite a bit of steam to let off but the dancing and bar allowed for that. I loved the jazz dancing. The reels were a bit complex though. 'Toria R-T (soon to be R-T-C) was legendary on the dancefloor, and we managed to mix conspiracy and dancing and make Mervyn think we were professionals. He was pretty wrecked though. She's wonderful - if I ever turn this blog into a testimonial to wonderful people, her entry would be significant. Because of the distaste of partying in a betting shop, a lot of us went outside (such as myself, Pete C, Pete W and 'Toria R-T) to enjoy the evening and cool off from the dancing. It gave me a chance to catch up a bit with some old friends and make new ones that I probably won't remember. The ball eventually ended at about 5. The taxis travelled at light speed back to Naughton and I was so wired I couldn't sleep. I sat up chatting to Hayley until 730. What a fantastic girl. Between her and Nancy the best cups of tea in the world are made.
Sunday was up at 10. Pete W telling me we're supposed be back at polo for 1030 or something. Somehow got up and showered and got dressed. Threw on one of my new favourite t-shirts (a gift): it features a bright yellow banana slug in a yogic position. If there is more appropriate hangover clothing, then I have not seen it. Sadly I do not have a picture of it. But it made me feel better about sleep deprivation and booze overdosing. The polo lasted a little long and didn't quite ignite the enthusiasm of the day before. Mike's ankle was swollen like a balloon. Some people were less grumpy than others. I avoided the BBQ as much as possible. We forgot the beer. Someone went to get some. I gave beautiful women massages as the rhythm helped sooth my hangover (Tiffany needed to destress though she didn't know what from). I volunteered to cook dinner. So dinner for 30 cooked by myself & Pete W with the lovely Nancy, Haley and Charlotte C giving a hand. Omlettes. Casting all modesty aside, it was a great meal. I made butterscotch sauce, recipe which I stole from Pete's cousin and improved. We chatted, had a beer tasting and reviewed the previous night's carnage. While never reigniting to full inferno, a well-chosen playlist, a return to the kitchen and Pete C's classic summer fruit gin & tonics lasted us through til 2. The 7 hours sleep I got helped. Clearing up again Monday morning (Nancy being an angel) and general lethargy ensued. I went back to St Andrews to bank my wages and repack for London. The final fun of the weekend was Jo's rollercoaster lift to Edinburgh for myself and Dymock.
There's lots I've left off - potential of romance for Cap'n C, the underaged smokers, billiards, more laughter, the odd tear, flasks of brandy, Thom, etc. No worries. It was an intense weekend, though the fun was far more due to the people than to the polo or the ball.

PS Capt. James Crawford is beyond any shadow of a doubt the greatest and most generous host on the planet, as well as being a true gentleman. The world should know this, though not SO much, as everyone will be dropping by. Moreso than usual that is. And I think he's had enough guests for awhile.

Radio glory... or not?

Well, the radio show Thursday night was huge amounts of fun; ridiculous chat, a hodgepodge of music and some lovely wines ruled the evening. Andy and myself actually answered some booze questions as well, much to the surprise of all. Les Bell, DJ extraordinaire, belted out some cracking chat. From what he said, his hardcore fans enjoyed it. It was a bit strange though - I haven't been on the radio for a very long time and the sense of removal from the audience makes it hard to get an idea of how well you're doing. On stage you can tell if the audience gets it. On air you're sort of talking to yourself. The pic shows Andy C waxing lyrical while Les watches on. The show was meant to be available for download but hadn't been posted when I checked today. I'm not sure if everyone will get it, but check it out at your own risk - not for those with delicate sensibilities.

Leaving Edinburgh at 645 Friday morning to make my 9 shift was fun as well. Note dripping sarcasm.

I'm in London at the moment on holiday and recovering from a huge weekend. There will be some more posts and photos detailing the partying, polo, cooking, drinking, traveling etc. that took place.

Mrs. Maiden

Mrs. Maiden may be my favourite customer. I can't quite remember how old she is, but I'm sure we delivered some wine for her 90th birthday in the last three years. She's legally blind and quite near legally deaf. She wears those big sunglasses design to fit over prescription glasses. They were big in the eighties. She uses a white cane almost as an afterthought. Her manner in the shop is exhilerating, she knows what she wants and continues to enjoy them. She laments, with good nature, her son-in-law finishing off her single malt. She smiles when we recommend something new and different. She loves her walks around the town and still being able to enjoy small tipples, be it a small dram, a wee sherry, or a small glass of Burgundy. When she takes her shades off there is a sparkle in her eyes - while they don't let much light in these days, they certainly still seem to give it off. When she recalls her heydays in the 20s, 30s & 40s there is no sense of longing, regret or displacement, just a joy at the time she had and the people she spent it with. She keeps herself interested in life and while she's not able to do anywhere near as much as she used to, she makes sure she enjoys what she can do. Considering how active she is now, I think she must of been almost hyperactive in her youth. There is a sense of sadness sometimes when she thinks about how much she used to do, but never resignation. There is diginity and genuine joy in her life still.

And she's leaving. Her son-in-law and daughter are moving to his family seat in the Borders. It is the first time I've genuinely seen her sad when she mentioned this. She doesn't want to go, but cannot live alone and would rather be with her family than in care. Her new home in the Borders is a significant estate. Sadly it is remote, and her favourite pleasure, her daily constitutional, becomes too dangerous. The library van comes round only once a month. She won't be able to shop on her own, as she can no longer drive. But I take heart that still smiled and told me that she would find something to do.

She will. She has survived widowhood, the slow loss of her sight and hearing and the rest of the ailments of old age with vigour. She's a vivacious spirit and will find enjoyment until the end.

It's been brilliant to know her these four years. Her enthusiasm puts many half or even a third her age to shame. If I make it that long then I hope to take that much pleasure still in life. All the best to her. She will be missed.

Stuff & another comment on comments...

Right, here's the deal: popping in to say "nice blog" just so you can leave links to your commercial nonsense is not cool. They'll be deleted immediately. It is a new amendment in the Constitution of the Singular State of My Fucking Blog. Much like the British Constitution; I make it up as I go along.

Oh, and saying "nice blog" when I rant just goes to show you're not reading anything. I wouldn't describe this blog as "nice". A blog about puppies and kittens is "nice". There's nothing wrong with that. I like puppies and kittens. But remember, they're for life, not just for Christmas.

In spite of irksome spam comments things that are cool are as follows: lunch, radio, fafblog mugs, fafblog t-shirts, puppies, kittens, Floretta, Pico and women.

So the balance of power firmly lies with the cool yet again, as it should be.

Video killed the radio star...

Got an email from Broomy today, full of chat & nonsense which is an excellent way to start the day. It seems Australia is agreeing with him and he's agreeing with Australia.

Went to watch some polo last night but instead got rained on and observed how filthy a mood everyone was in. And yes, I just ended a sentence with a preposition. Deal. I'm sure it was tension caused by the pitches being in a calamatous state and the big event just 3 days away. There were some harsh words said by people who should know better. It upset some people who are so genuinely good that it angered me. I'm not mentioning names because it's not my fight but people should know when to step back and keep their mouth shut. That, however, is something that I often screw up, so I acknowledge my hypocrisy.

So we didn't stick around for the BBQ - we went back to Naughton, cooked some amazing burgers that Lil made, some nice Woodall's sausages and drank champagne. It had the cheering effect we were hoping for and I went to bed with a smile on my face.

Pete: "Kirsty, come to the polo - you don't even have to go to the ball if you don't want."
Kirsty: "We'll see."
Me: "Can I not go to the ball?!"
Pete: "No; you're coming."

I've also been told I have to be the face of my company at the corporate hospitality luncheon. Free lunch and champagne - sort of the same as last year except none of my mates will be at my table and I'll have to talk shop on what should be the first day of my holiday. All of my mates will be enjoying a BBQ and behaving as they feel fit. I sound ungrateful and I should feel lucky and all that but I really would just rather chill out in jeans and a t-shirt. Whatever. In the grand scheme of things it ranks up there with... well, something pretty fucking unimportant. Like Tesco running out of soya milk or something. I'll have a fantastic time regardless.

So. I'm going to be on radio tonght. A friend of mine has an internet radio station and I'll be on it, with my flatmate. Talking about wine. I have a feeling it's going to be tongue-in-cheek. Here's hoping. The show goes out at 9pm BST. Tune in if you want to put a voice to the blog. I'll be the American one. You should listen to it every Thursday anyway, as the music is brilliant and the chat hysterical. Quite a few celebrity guests as well, my chat not included.