Men are, apparently, good at this! But this week, I’ve been pretty useless – I only managed to pack 1 box! Anne, on the other hand, managed to pack lots of boxes…I dunno…10, 20, more – a lot, for sure! We’re moving to Glasgow in August, so we have begun filling the end-room, near the front door! I honestly had no idea we had so much ‘stuff’.

Logic tells me that ‘de-cluttering’ is the sensible first step because there are quite a few boxes, which we brought here, that haven’t been opened in a year – So, they need to be checked. Lyall Watson books I bought in 1990 will get donated to the Findoglen bookshelves! But they were part of my re-awakening? They’re Lyall Watson? Bookshelves! Essays from Newbattle Abbey? Burn! Essays from Uni’? Burrrrrrn! (although I might re-read some of them first, which is going to slow the whole process down!) As a digression, I remember before people used ‘Underlay’ (Arriba Arriba! Sorry!) Anyway, before carpet underlay, people used newspaper underneath their carpet – I’m guessing the idea was to stop any draughts coming up from the floorboards. So, in the past, it would take a lot longer to lift an old carpet because you would likely get engrossed in reading things from the old newspapers – Fashionable shoes 2/6d (half-a-crown) or X-Ray Spectacles 3d (3 old pence).

Anyhoo…90% of t-shirts, socks, underwear? Bin! Ties? Bin! In fact, most of my trousers can’t circumnavigate my waist anymore…the buttons are lost at sea/never reach Port and are abandoned 2-nautical inches starboard from my belly-button! Bin! Now I’m beginning to understand why Anne gets more boxes packed than me…because I’m re-discovering aimless-intrigue and re-legging old trousers!!!

So…we are moving from one compartment to another – from the extremely-distanced Findoglen to the socially-distanced, hustle and bustle of Glasgow. We’re re-compartmentalising our existence – swapping beauty and peace to be nearer our sons and swapping bleating lambs, for the sounds of children playing in the street and swapping the roar of the Findoglen burn in spate, for the gentle hum of traffic. We’re swapping the daily curiosity of wildlife behaviour, for the daily intrigue of life in a street. We’re looking forward to it, truly! Another digression though – Do you know how to be happier? Be grateful! If you look at anyone that you think is ‘happy’, you might notice that they are grateful for things (and usually it’s directed by a faith – Feck right off!) However, it’s possible just to be grateful…without referring to any ‘god’. There is a great YouTube channel called Kurzgesagt (which is German for ‘in a nutshell’) which explains the concept much better than my ramblings. Anyhoo…it will be nice to live in a smaller, ‘cosy’ place, with fast internet speed and good tasting tea!

Also, apparently, men are always bottling things up…but me, not so much! I am the opposite…I have opened many bottles and I plan to open many more!

I was standing in a queue, outside the Medical Centre, as you do these days… Except, I remember that I used to “Go to the Doctor’s”, I never once used to say “I’m off to the Medical Centre mum!” Anyway, it’s more than likely that she knew where I was going, because we had been talking about it beforehand. Duh!

Anyhoo…there I was in the queue and a man (patient) came out. I guess he was slightly older than me…the kind of age when you’ll speak to anyone without a prompt…the kind of age where you are more likely to speak random, comedic comments to strangers. I had my mask on…and he had his…and he looked at me and said “That mask suits!” Naturally, I took it as a compliment…like ‘You’re looking good Ginger’…and I’m sure he would have offered me a high-five, if he could have spared the hand from his walking stick. So…he crinkled his eyes and I crinkled mine and we had a moment…although it took a good minute for him to pass, so the moment dragged a little longer than expected.

It got me thinking though! “The mask suits” because…? It matches my eyes? It hides half of my face? I should wear a mask more often? In fact, just keep it on always! Do I have a good face for Radio?

I like being older! I like the traumas and battles I’ve survived. The fear, the pain and the loss might not be over…but I’m through the other side of past events. I don’t know if you will agree or recognise this in yourself, but I get an incredible feeling of joy after I’ve been ill! Do you? I get to a point where I can notice the difference between ‘being ill’ and ‘getting better’ and it makes me feel actual happiness, joy. For me, it’s the same with being older. It’s said, beautifully, in the poem “Warning” by Jenny Joseph. The declaration, that you don’t care what Society thinks of you once you get older, is liberating. I watched a Ted Talk on Ageism recently by Ashton Applewhite and was fascinated (okay, maybe too strong a word) by the “U-Curve of Happiness” – the idea that we are happiest at the beginning and the end of our lives.

That sounds about right but…am I right in thinking that Middle-Age is like a kind of illness and you only start to get better at around 47 and a half? (I like the ‘and a half’ bit because it reminds me of childhood)

So, whether you have a fancy, tartan mask, hand made by Slanj (shameless plug) or an old paper/synthetic mask, like the kind a Builder would wear, which gets an occasional spray of dilute bleach and washing-up liquid…

If the mask suits…wear it!

I don’t remember much. There are whole chunks of my life that I’ve forgotten. I don’t have a lot of photographs and a lot of what I do have have this other guy in them – A young, slim, long-haired guy with many teeth. There he is on a fishing trip on Loch Etive…riding a big sparkly-blue Norton Commando 750 motorbike…or shooting water pistols with his 4 year old son at a caravan in Elie. I’m sure it’s all stored somewhere in my brain just waiting to flash before me…one day!

None of that really matters though! What really matters is where we are now. Close your eyes and listen. Sense where you are…the smells, touch the things around you. Open your eyes and see it all again. Right now I’m warm, full and the people I care about are all doing okay. Sometimes I’m up and sometimes I might feel a bit low but mostly I’m here, or hereabout. Regardless of what analogy I use, I’m okay. My jar is complete with golf balls, pebbles and sand and I have room left for a few beers!

Memorable things include:

• Youth Hostel Warden
• Studio Engineer
• Playbus Driver
• Father
• IT Analyst
• Husband

Un-memorable things:

• ???…obviously!

I remember the excitement I felt going into Philosophy tutorials at Newbattle Abbey College, to discuss whether a table existed – or if it was a reflection of a Paradigm – or part of my personal psychosis! I never did find out…but I did, always, have somewhere to eat my lunch. I enjoyed the absurdity of ‘arguments’ and the twists and turns of Sophistry but…it was all spin! Everything is spin. The Veil of Perception ensures that all philosophers can be correct – because nothing can be proved. But, just because something can’t be proved doesn’t mean it’s not true. Here I think I am…sitting on my fat arse. I can feel the warmth of the bed below me and the weight of the duvet above. Except…I can’t prove it. The veil of perception argument relies on our inability to identify where we ‘exist’ within our body. Call it consciousness, call it soul, call it self, it doesn’t matter because we don’t know how that works. We know about electrical signals, we know about chemicals, we know about neurons and synapses but how does all of that add up to sentient me?

If I can’t rely on my senses…where’s the proof of anything? I have photographs though…are they proof of me? Bishop Berkeley famously tried to refute a philosophical argument by kicking a stone in a hissy-fit of empiricism. Can I throw some photographs down onto the table in a similar gesture? See! See…that’s me in a time before. But here I am now…wherever that is…and I’m okay with myself – sitting on my fat arse and feeling warm tea slipping down my throat. I’m warm, I’m full and the people I care about are doing okay. Hopefully I’ll remember this…but no guarantee.

I’m still trying to understand what was happening in George Square in Glasgow at the weekend. I’ve only seen a few phone recordings that people uploaded and it looks like there was a huge game of football happening…but no ball! I remember games of football in the playground at school where there was a ball, surrounded by two teams of up to 20 boys (generally) all trying to stick one of their legs into a tangled mass of other legs…to ‘get possession’ of the ball. (Although, to be honest, the only person who ever ‘possessed’ the ball was the kid who brought it to school…he was the ultimate resolver of disputes – “It’s ma baw’!”) The ball was the focus of energy in playground football and he, who actually ‘possessed’ the ball was king! He set the agenda! The other kids were merely followers of one side or the other.

I couldn’t make out the focus of the George Square game! I think there were two teams. The most obvious team was the Police in hi-viz but they seemed to be like a team of referees. The other team were white men between 16 and 50 years old who apparently were there to defend some statues (but maybe they don’t really care about the statues really!). The only people I could see that may have been a danger to the statues were a couple on a bench with a cardboard sign saying Black Lives Matter (Maybe they were the ball??) And it looked like the 16-50 team were a mixture of ex-army and football fans. At one point, in one of the videos, they seemed to be the dominant ball-chasers, the ones making the first move to get the ball and the Police were just responding to them running. Anyhoo…I was reminded of an atom, with a nucleus in the middle and all the energy flying around it – Much like the playground football game. The only difference…was that I couldn’t see the ball. The ball was meant to be there and all the energy was moving as if the nucleus was there…but I couldn’t see it!

It was a little bit different in London – The Police were there and the 16-50’s were there protecting the statues too…but there was a bigger contingent of Black Lives Matter protesters (mostly made up of BAME 16-50’s.) I didn’t see the same playground football game because, at some point, the two 16-50’s met…resulting in many swinging handbags (meme) However…in the midst of all the 16-50 ‘energy’, some humanity surfaced with the picture of Patrick Hutchinson carrying one of the other team off the pitch after the guy was fouled!

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Wait…but where’s the ball in all of this? Who’s in possession? Who has the ball? What is the ball anyway? This all started with George Floyd (who is black) saying “I can’t breathe!”, while a cop (who is white) is kneeling on his neck, so…the ball is racism? Nope! But…George Floyd’s death has come to represent the ‘in-your-face’ continuation of historic racism. Yep…that sounds right. Which is why anti-racist protesters began targeting the statues of the past – statues of people who benefited from slavery, at a time when racism was glorified. Okay, I get that! What about the other team?

The other team, the protectors of statues? The “All Lives Matter” team? Don’t they agree that Black Lives Matter? They must…because they say All Lives Matter, so that must mean that Black Lives Matter too! Right? Thank feck! So, they are just protecting the statues? Protecting Britain’s past? Protecting the empire? Well…the common denominator in the white 16-50s would seem to be ‘protecting the status-quo’ of in-equality and in-justice. It seems to me…that Empires are steeped in in-equality and in-justice! Who would want to protect that? Well, that would be…those that benefit from it I guess!!!

So, in the analogy of playground football – there is a ball, surrounded by two teams all trying to stick one of their legs into a tangled mass of other legs to ‘get possession’ of the ball. But the ball is the property of the Establishment, the ultimate resolver of disputes – “It’s ma baw’!” The history of Empire, has set the agenda! The teams you are watching in these clashes, don’t make the rules and they can’t change anything. They are not in possession of the ball. They are the other kids…they are just followers. They are the ones with all the energy. Oh the drama! Who’s going to get possession, who’s going to win? Will change happen or will in-equality continue? Who are you cheering on?

I was watching Kimberley Jones on YouTube. She co-authored a book (another book I haven’t read!) titled “I’m not dying with you tonight”. Her rant on racism following the George Floyd murder is passionate and the phrase that struck a chord with me was “They are lucky that black people are looking for equality and not revenge” after over 400 years of slavery and racism. It’s very true! Whoever knew the name Edward Colston before his statue was pulled down by protesters in Bristol and thrown in the river?

Also, I’ll be listening in to the Craig Murray hearing tomorrow (10th June at 10am). Craig has been charged with Contempt of Court because he reported on the Alec Salmond case (along with the majority of the Scottish Media), where the accusers were granted anonymity. However, it is argued that enough information was written about the ‘The Alphabet Women’ to enable anyone to know the identity of one of them. Craig Murray didn’t divulge enough information to do that but many in the Scottish Press did…but they are not being charged! I am of the opinion that Craig’s charge is purely political. So, I wrote to the Scottish Judiciary to ask to attend the Hearing, which I can do remotely. I also wrote to the Hearing Judge , Lord Wolfe, to remind him that “…the future is watching.” Okay…it’s a very dramatic thing to say…but it’s also true!

And…It all ties-in to the idea that people who believe in their own ‘exceptionalism’ are stupid – Especially if they have children! If you have children, how can you not want to make the world a better place? How does a rich person explain ‘poverty’ to their child? How can the Reece-Moggs of the world explain their elitism to their children? Eventually…surely…everyone must come to an understanding that poverty is wrong, oppression is wrong, corruption is wrong, etc. There seems to be a collective collusion at work when we just carry on with our lives. Like Bruce Hornsby and the Range sang about in “The way it is“…It’s only the way it is because we haven’t changed it…yet.

I believe in Karma! I think that the descendants of anyone who benefits from Racism, Corruption, Greed, etc will be shown for who their ancestors were. Imagine if Hitler had children – What kind of guilt-ridden life would they have had? I think Kimberley Jones was right…white people are lucky that black people don’t want revenge for hundreds of years of oppression. Rich people are lucky that poor people aren’t armed with pitchforks. Westminster (the British Empire) is lucky to have lasted so long! Isn’t it time that some changes are made? The way it is doesn’t have to be the way it is!

This is not a music blog! This is not a Diary! Why are you here?

In all honesty…I can’t write a blog on Music! My mission statement is “In Search of a Song to Change the World“. I used to think that, anyone who wrote a tune was actually searching for the tune which would make them relevant in Music. It seemed to me that people used to try to write ‘a hit record’, something insanely popular, something incredibly viral, catchy or something that would propel them to their end goal…fame, fortune or whatever. I did that too…but I have no idea what my end goal was – maybe it was just relevance! I know I would hate fame. Money doesn’t drive me. Attention seeking? Honestly, I have no idea!

I also used to think that Art mattered. I used to think that Art could incite ‘change’, Art could cause a revolution in thought, Art could inspire! However, in the perfect dichotomy of all truth, I have since found that to be both true and false…Maybe, is the answer to all things! I recently watched an interview by Mary Beard of Sir Donald McCullin (No, I’m not going to talk about feckin’ Knighthoods and ‘gongs’) – Don McCullin was a Photographer of Conflicts. (“Lockdown Culture with Mary Beard“) He clearly struggles with his past career – “I hate being known as a war photographer.” He now lives in Somerset and photographs the “Stillness of Nature” in an attempt at mental harmony. I was struck by how despondent he was about his conflict photography when he said his house contained 60,000 conflict images and they were “…like a contagion…” in his home. He spoke about his past need/desire to get the images he captured into print…but questioned what effect they had – When one conflict finished, another one began somewhere else! That’s the ultimate effect of Art…fuck all! Showing dreadful images to the ‘man on the street’ had no effect on the War-Monger Elite.

How many US Movies have you seen which highlight the immoral intervention of American troops somewhere in the world for Business and Profit? Has it changed anything? How many “I, Daniel Blake” movies does it take before the ‘man on the street’ votes for socialism instead of Tory Self-Servatism? It’s a Con! It’s our collusive delusion!

Writing tunes is my diversion and it only fixes me. I’ll never write a tune to change the world…it’s not possible! They are written for me! My topics are restricted by my fear of hurting people – I really try not to publish my catharsis…it’s kept private. So, this isn’t a blog – A blog invites comment, discussion, views and opinions and, to be honest, my head is bludgeoned from the out-pourings of one particular past source. Enjoyment of Music is personal…end of story.

This is not a diary either! A diary should contain secrets or thoughts too boring to say out loud and should only be published postumously. In any event, a diary is a tedious contract.

_{This morning…our heating didn’t come on! It was 21 degrees at 10:30am, so the thermostat worked! It’s the first morning, since we arrived, that we haven’t needed the heating on!}

_{We made an earlier start than usual to go shopping…normally we would go shopping at around 1pm…and it was jumping! All supermarkets now operate a one-in one-out policy, so we waited in a queue of 16 before we finally got to the door and I realised that we didn’t have a pound coin for a trolley. Isn’t it funny how simple things are more of a disaster when it’s hot? By the time I had retrieved a pound coin from the car, another 16 people had joined the queue. Anne used her doe-eyes to plead a coin-less trolley from the lady in front of her…but I didn’t have the required doe-eyes (or arrogance) to push back to the front, so I waited the new queue of 16 and met up with her inside. I love Aldi (did I mention I’m a cheapskate?) Jeezy peeps…31p for Digestives…come on?}

From ‘The Diary that Never Was!” – H.McMillan

This is not a diary! There are no secrets to be found here. I am merely, a little old ginger spec somewhere in existence, watching the sunset while I pick fluff from my belly-button. I do have occasional moments…moments of pause…and moments still to come! Tunes still to be recorded and words still to be said, maybe! I’ve written a poem called ‘It’s Ower!’ which should never reach daylight. It’s written in old Scots and quite honest on personal events. It uses the harshness and flippancy of the language to ridicule the notion of ‘Prestige’ that someone seeks and it plays with the format of e e cummings to layer venom in the font. I enjoyed writing it but it should never be read. It’s Art…it would make no difference anyway! Maybe!