Bread is Awesome! Some say it is solid Beer...

Toast! Aaa-aaaah! Saviour of the universe!

After many weeks and months of baking my own bread I succumbed to laziness and bought a loaf of 'Everyday Value' bread from Tesco, my mood cheering with the thoughts of quick and easy toast, melted butter and cold toast. This morning I cracked it open, obviously today is an 'every' day, nothing special, and I was dissapointed, this just isn't the same as what I was hoping for, oh well, it will be finished soon.

The rebranding of Tesco's value range has jogged something in my mind though. It's quite an interesting marketing move to limit your products away from the special occasions, are they telling me that I need to spend more money on my occasions because that thoroughly confuses me. If you are having a party, you want quantity in order to have enough for everyone, so you want cheap and cheerful, not their finest dinner party range.

Eight slices later, four in toast and butter form, four in tuna and watercress sandwich style, my craving may just be satiated… wait a minute, I have vegemite in the cupboard. Toaster prepare! 

I slide deftly across the floor, the bread arcing through the air and slotting succintly in the toaster, as the bread drops smartly into place my fingers take hold of the plunger and provide just enough force to drop the lever, too much and it would bounce back, too little and the ridiculously tempestuous toaster would refuse to heat my bread (we really need a new toaster, along with the kettle that boils half of its water away so that you need to fill the kettle for just one cup, I can hear the environmentally friendly sorts crying as I continue). A short hop and slide, my hand pulls open the fridge, my foot grasping the cupboard handle, my balance falters as my fingers fumble the buttery margarine (oh how I miss real butter) but in a moment of excellence I grasp both, the cupboard swings open, my elbow closes the fridge, I pivot on my toes and triumphantly waltz to the plate with vegemite and margarine in hand. Swipe, spread and slash my toast is prepared and I relax with my delightful snack.

Thoughtful Texts

This may at first appear to be an odd idea but if we review books and films, why not newspapers and magazines?

For almost a decade now I have found that the majority of my reading material, day to day and travel-wise is not the hard or soft bound variety of literature, low on images, and often high in intellect. It has instead been the world of glossy pages, technical jargon and eye-wateringly beautiful and envy-invoking images. The first jaunt the world of gaming; demo-discs and pixels, genre specific vocabulary, wish lists and virtual worlds. While still a hobby and an interest I moved on and the more recent subject matter revolve around physical sports, dirt, snow and skate, 'gnarly' documentations of 'sick' tricks, and yes I've spouted my fair share of 'valley-guy' terms to the detriment of my apparent brain-cells.

More recently my eye has been caught by the matte, the uniquely designed and the intellectually thought out. I have been lucky to come across some great publications by accident and in other cases great articles in the still-glossy renditions, intelligent thought provoking articles that encourage my own desire to increase the intelligence of the reading material that fills our newsstands and our hands. I'm sick of people buying the garishly coloured, predictable, fame-fuellers that unnecessarily idolise normal people (perhaps some justly).

This is not a negative piece though and I understand the inherent demand for simply-written material, we are all in need of a great story of plot and convenient understanding occasionally. 

My thoughts began with a cleverly written article discussing the changing world of photography in action sports, more specifically snowboarding and it led me to analyse it after it proved to avoid the pitfalls of typical 'old vs new' debates. The images where clearly in a balance with the words in terms of strength, importance and quality. A film magazine caught and held my attention with a brightly coloured, artistic cover and despite the price, I was sold. The following day my sister presented me with an equally well illustrated edition of Ride.

The article in Little White Lies discusses the horror genre and brings up the 'cult/non-mainstream' side of attraction or consequence and to a certain extent that increases the charm of these publications themselves, they aren't the common appearance and they don't scream everyday, they are something to be read slowly and fully understand.

Ok, so these are expensive reads, but the gorgeous detail, minimal bludgeoning advertising and high quality lends to their longevity, they are read in segments, often without specific order and they take on a role more akin to coffee table books than glossy mags, for one I'd be very disappointed to spill tea on these and I probably wouldn't be comfortable slicing them up to stare at from my bed, despite their gorgeous detail.

They may appear pretencious and 'hipster' or 'trendy' or just too cool for the new alternative but I'm sick of pidgeons and their holes. Lets continue with this high quality of easily accessible writing and penned thought. Hell, scantily clad ladies done in this format would be considered art if viewed on the train, bus or any other public situation, that's as good a reason as any to get behind this idea - the MetArt of the magazine world. 

Travelling by Train

     Standing on the platform I'm excited, nervous and I wonder when was the last time I was on a train? It may have only been in January but I was distracted by pretty German girl that I was helping to find her way to Dundee from Edinburgh airport and it was the final leg of a journey I wanted to finish. Today on the other hand I am going cross-country, last week a bit of Facebook correspondence alerted me to the fact my sisters would be together, one travelling up from London to Dalbeattie and without a moment's thought for my constantly dwindling finances I booked tickets. 

     

     The smell of grease, iron oxide and hot mechanics is sending my brain into overdrive; first to the cycle ride down to the docks I enjoyed last week, the orange dust spread across the road, images of abandoned mills and factories clash with the feeling of being so small amongst great constructions of industrial ages, huge smooth bearings and grease! I am a young child walking around Beaulieu or the National Transport Museum or I'm rooting through my parent's garage, pulling out old pots and pans, objects with history and charm.

     I suppose I was always a little bit steampunk from a young age. Plastic is such a boring material, yes it is fantastically strong and versatile but the class and character of metal: brass, steel, aluminium - shining, dull, brushed - cold and clinical but gorgeous (probably half the reason I own an all aluminium mac. If I could have a laptop or a phone made of wood I would.)

     I'm looking out the window and I remember why I love catching trains, despite the expense its a fantastic way to see the scenery and Scotland is a great place for scenery, every time I head down to Edinburgh to catch a plane, I'm reminded of the gorgeous country I live in, the coastal line is grand and fantastic, particularly with bright blue skies and hot sunshine but just as impressive with imposing, brooding clouds darkening the sky with their equally gorgeous purple bruising the landscape. Every time I come back to Dundee I'm just as equally reminded of the fantastic place I have returned to.

     

     Today, however I am taking another of my favourite routes, not only because it means I will see my sisters, and it would usually mean festival time too but because the scenery changes, I get so close to where I lived for the first nine years of my life so I see Perth Swimming pool, the Ochils, Stirling Castle and the Great (Bright!) Hall, Glasgow, Carlisle …… and Dumfries. (I didn't mean for this to become an episode Great British Rail Journeys, although maybe I could do that, any volunteers for the voice over?)

     I always see wildlife, eleven o'clock, one hour and eight minutes in and I have seen rabbits, foxes, lambs and their mothers (no gambolling today) and the rare breed of contented train traveller (maybe it was just my reflection in the window). And last time I did this journey I was also greeted with hawks, pheasants and probably more that I simply can't remember. The scenery streams past and lulls me into moments of dozing. I perk up to realise the sun has returned as I near my destination, the heat revives me and the great tunes pumping into my ear refresh the excitement I felt this morning, awesome times are going to be had , it'll be great to see my sisters! :D

     Just as I was thinking about that last sentence I looked out the window and was pulling into Dumfries station. Ah! almost missed my destination, but it was quite ok as I quickly stuffed my laptop away and got off to meet my wonderful sisters. 

     We went for a little drive, deliberated over some new technology for my entrepreneurial sibling, a quick visit to a nicely converted farm for summery drinks and a play on the swings before munching on half a pint of prawns with a local beer, Criffel, enjoying the relaxed scenery of the Urr Estuary, blue skies and warm conversation.

Code Fuscia! Fridge is empty and snow batters the building! Challenge Accepted.

Unknown to even those who know it well, the exact time of arrival of the Scottish summer changes so often that even girls make fun of it! Anyway, last week we had barbecues, sunburn and heat stroke but this week we have snow, although speaking of the weather may comfort the rest of us Brits I regretfully inform you that this is not a normal post, this is the story of somewhat insane idea of fun, and while you read it, remember that I said this was fun, the fun I was having was overflowing and came out as cackles as I gazed through crazy eyes at what I had brought home.

So, to the story and a wonderful way it begins. I have finished third year of University in this fine city and I have a lot of free time ahead of me and I thought it best to start of productively; clothes washed, room tidied and cleaned, kitchen tidied and cleaned, random bits of paper sorted into their idea piles and just the shopping to do.

Gleefully I waltzed towards Riverside Tesco, a pleasant walk in a muggy bubble, empty rucksack flapping at my side like an overexcited packhorse who loves his work just a little too much, straps happy to be free to flap in the wind, the stench of cupboard rot wafting towards Perth, or Broughty Ferry, or Northwards and Southwards also, with... every... gust... of.... good 'ol Dundonian breeze.

Forthwith I arrived, slouched to the bank machine, my face fills with glee: Money! I trip the light fantastic, hop the aural armada and grace the grand sliding doors with my presence. Whipcrack! I deftly remove my list from its holster and peruse the scribblings before shooting off on my quest (as efficiently as possible of course.)

I tangoed with the trolley, foxtrotting to the fruit, waltzing into the women's hygiene aisle, ahem... Slowly backing away, I refocused and made for the last push, must not get distracted... oooh potato waffles!

List collected a congratulatory message appeared before my eyes "You have succesfully won the Golden Trolley Trophy for the speediest sweep of a supermarket (hope I don't need to pay for that)". To the till! The many hours I spent perfecting my Tetris technique came into its own as I keyed my pin into the machine.

Ten minutes later I was munching on a sandwich to build strength after repacking the uselessly packed rucksack, the stage was set, 1.5 miles, 26 kilos of goodness, one man...

For the first five minutes Haych-Too-O and his evil cousin Hayl were determined to fight me all the way, filling my hood, building a snowman between my back and the bag and other things of an irritable nature, little did it know that I was gaining strength from the miniature drops of refreshment that blasted their way up my nose.

As the hail calmed down the sun broke out and for the next twenty minutes I was bathed in the golden warmth (no I didn't pee myself, the sun!) and frigid wind as I powered my way back up the hill.

Discovering on my way, evidence of the dreaded kidnapper who uses tinned mackerel to lure unsuspecting boot wearers close before stealing them straight from those aforementioned boots!

To the victor, the spoils!

That is why I cackled, I just kept unloading my bag and the pile grew!
And here is old faithful himself, he has travelled far and wide (Nepal, Australia, Canada and India to name just a few) but this was his toughest challenge yet and, although looking like a sad carcass, he smiles with the happiness of a job well done and a challenge overcome perhaps that is more of a gurn...

It's odd moments of exercise and challenge like this that make me smile, I've been shut up doing work for too long and this is one of the results.

Listening to Delta Moon - You Got to Move

     Procrastination, it's a wonderful thing. I remember looking for a version of this song:

on guitar, just to see what it was like (After several months working in The Scottish Shop St Andrews where this band was played constantly, on repeat, it was the only one I still liked - I may tell the full story sometime) I got this album, and you know what, I quite like it. It's not necessarily what I would usually go out and buy but right now, it is comfortable music, conjuring images of places I've never been and lives I've never lived (at least not to my knowledge) while I tippity tap away at my laptop, eyes gazing out across the car-park, beyond the energy drink upon my window-sill, to the apartments opposite with the curtains open and the couple about to elope, clothes falling to the floor, one of them is turning their head and looking in shock… my light is on, and I'm staring, unable to take my eyes away, he's right, I gotta move...

Okay, blinds closed, back to the album, it seems somewhat odd to listen to the music with a background of the Dundonian night, Friday night and the sounds of classically trained students roaming the streets, what rubbish, I'm in the West End. Maybe if I close my eyes I can imagine a suitable backdrop… nope, just naked neighbours, oh dear, that's more people alienated (a different set of renters already think I'm a pervert when really I was just smoking out the window and happened to be looking that way, forgot I was staring and next thing I know one of them is lying on the floor, just out of view, poking her head around the curtain trying to see if I was still looking, she should have turned the light off, then I wouldn't have been able to see in… now that does sound creepy.)

I've lost my train of though now, and the album has finished so maybe I shall sign off. I'm glad I have introduced the difficulties and dangers of inadvertent people watching (of which I am a grand advocate, as long as you don't get caught up a tree with your pants down and binoculars around your neck, as they say in those circles). Be careful,as one ferrero roche said to another: it's nutty out there.

Shuffle was invented in a different language...

Since it is still early days I feel more introduction is a good idea, the insanity and sport obsession posts are a good impression of the wildly swinging subject matter that confuses my mind weekly... today I will inform you wonderful people who are so very interested in the nonsense that overpowers me I shall poke and prod you with another one of my great passions, Music!

Time for a little rant, it's not original and probably not funny either but it might be clever or smart, or just silly…

I love shuffle, when you collect music with obsessive compulsive vigour that I do you end up with so many artist's and albums when you only bought the whole thing for one song, but it looked lonely and disorganised. Stick it on shuffle and rediscover old greats, shameful guilty pleasures and god knows what! 

That band that made you feel so cool as a kid and that band that you like because you suddenly discovered a pretty girl liked them and it felt cool to be the only ones who liked them, trading top tens and awesome riffs, the days of Sum 41 and Alkaline Trio, the pretentious self importance, such fun!

But, shuffle is not always your friend, I recently bought a cheap MP3 player after the previous one had an unfortunate accident involving electricities arch enemy, water (they used to be great friends before the great legend Haych-Too-O began spreading E-Lek-Trickery's energy and powers amongst all its friends. But that's a story for another day.) And this MP3 player decides that the shuffle function simple re-orders the files in the same way every time! Four songs in and I switch it to shuffle, it goes back two songs where it likes to start its own little playlist, then song number four, then eight. And no matter where I start the shuffle, or switch in on and off partway through its playlist, it always does the same.

I've spent many hours researching the variable lists and it simply does not put the effort in that I expect of it, now I've resorted to manually switching the order of the tracks just to get some change!

Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to save up and get the old sophisticated silicon fixed...

Welcome to the Tasty Side of the Internet!

So, Tesco are currently press-ganging me into buying posh kitchen knives and other accoutrements via a clever voucher and 70% off scheme. I'm not angry, I love kitchen goodies and I have also screwed their system: you gain a voucher for every £20 you spend and you need five to get 70% off (making the knife, or chopping board or knife block) only a fiver (or £4.99 to be exact) and I've got somewhat excited, it might be the freezer-full of venison or the glass of red wine that I'm drinking (left-over from cooking venison stew!) but I love the kitchen, and cooking and food in general so that is why I have this section, to gorge endlessly on culinary confabulations!

Then again I may just be associating venison with Dire Straits, good album by the way, Money For Nothing, what album were you thinking of?

P.S. Anybody have more vouchers, I think I need another four steak knives, you never know how many people you may have around for steak, or how often you want to eat steak in one day without washing, you never want to run out of steak, or knives to eat them with.

Pizzas, Motorbikes and Vomit-Dodging

What a fantastic start to the day; the sun is shining, well, beaming down with great vengeance and furious anger upon the dew clinging to the blades of freshly cut grass. I repositioned the aerial (yes, we have an analogue aerial for digital TV), lo and behold, an act of divine intervention channelled my muscles and after many months of being forced to watch substandard news, however entertaining, BBC has been regained!

Oh how I missed the mistakes! The fawning uselessness of Breakfast news, and Declan Curry, I've been watching you at six in the morning for about ten years now! I know every set of news has their own quirks and mistakes, the odd sentimental tones that don't suit the story but I have always found a certain comfort in the BBC news and a cup of tea.

Now onto the other reason this morning is wonderful, as a student I should be really excited about green beer and leprechauns, the beer is teaming up with the sun and they are calling my name, I do love a bit of afternoon drinking, particularly in a large field, music in the background. 

St. Patrick's day also provides one with the opportunity to develop one's skills at the sport of vomit-dodging, a good test of speed and agility, particularly while under the influence (points deducted for bumps and scrapes discovered the next morning). 

However the key event of this weekend for me is the return of the Formula 1 world. Once again I will be excitedly anticipating the next race, reading the news and the gossip as soon as it finds its way to me via my networking tentacles, and once again I will be avoiding the news when the results go up. Having just recovered BBC I made a rookie mistake today; my excitement at watching BBC News suddenly turned into panic as I see Formula 1 scrolling across the bar at the bottom of my screen, I miss the important bit and shield my eyes and succeed in ignoring it for several rounds before… 'Lewis Hamilton takes pole, sharing the front row with Jenson Button'… Yes! Excellent, it may have ruined the suspense but I don't care because that is wonderful news and I'm so excited to watch the qualifying and the race.

Okay, now the childish excitement is over I should apologise for the sport heavy post, for those who are bored I shall place a nice photo so that you may peruse it while I waffle:

 I have always had a passion for motor-racing, so much so that I will happily sit for hours directing pixels around a digital recreation of a real track attempting to better my time, and when I was younger I dreamed of being a racing driver, or a pizza delivery boy… ok I might have to explain that one, I liked motorbikes and I liked pizza, it seemed like a marriage made in heaven, a perfect pairing and a delectable duo all rolled into one. I've also noticed that it was a good dream, if I don't work out at a well paying job, write a blockbuster or win the lottery I can always make my dream come true, also, delivering pizza in one of these would be amazing.

It is a fact well known to those who know it well that music means a lot to a lot of people (and maybe a lot to the alots too, who knows? I don't but this fantastic lady might).

It is important to me, I don't particularly believe in the over-genrefying of things, it gets far too complicated when music evolves and genres don't mean the same thing as they used to, but that's half the fun of language and music itself.

Anyway, this small corner (or divergence, or confluence or any other wonderful descriptive term) of the internet is not here for me to impose my (frankly ridiculous) opinion on what music is awesome and what isn't (well maybe a little bit) but it is a place for music that means something to me.

For example:

Silly music - something to laugh at the ridiculousness of, something horse and lemonade related like this video by this wonderful chap:


Perhaps it is just something that has got stuck in my head and I am attempting to exorcise it via the wondrous power of the internet, a problem shared is a problem halved right?

Or most prominently, I will just something that makes me want to get up and dance, move my feet and show the world how happy I am through the power of expressive dance, you know the sort, where people start looking at you with funny expressions on their faces, attempting to decide whether they should call an ambulance or form a circle and start chanting.

I hope you don't mind the terrible introduction. Let's start with one of my all time favourites, a sign of my continentally and hemispherically unbalanced music collection. 

Australia appears to be sneaking itself into my lists of all time favourite bands, offbeat by offbeat.

Here are The Cat Empire with Two Shoes 

Alternatives

If you have run out of ice cubes, why not use frozen peas. They are a commodity often discovered stuffed in the back of a freezer, locked in time and prisoner to the great crystalline Haych-Too-O (although good friends with the humble chipped potato, unfortunately lost in the great defrost of 99) and provide suitable sustenance and cooling properties. Despite the slightly odd appearance the refreshingly healthy qualities of the species pieopitus pea will rejuvenate even the oldest, saggiest, most tired and sad geriatric liver.

New Beginnings, Old Tipple

  This is bloody difficult, semi-drunkenly I thought it would be a grand idea to put all my nonsense writings up on the internet just to pester all those Google-monkeys out there. I've got to pick a semi-coherant title and a URL too! All I can think of is Colonel Custard and Lieutenant Lee Lemon, and that has nothing to do with my name or my writing, although I do like food… maybe this could work after all.

Edit: I can't even find a picture of myself that doesn't make me look like one of my invented characters mentioned earlier.

And yes, I always say 'grand' after a glass of wine.