Oh Edward, why do you test me so?

So here I am again, feeling pretentious with a coffee and my Mac, sitting in a lovely place called Hugh's, just across from Kwik-Fit, wondering what the most recent assault on my wallet will be.

Today is the day that Edward may be getting a new exhaust, or maybe a muffler, or hopefully someone will agree to tack on a bit of metal and we can continue on our merry clunking way.

While Edward has treated me rather well I fear that my rash decision making may well have landed me in a spot of financial bother. Dear Edward cost me a mere £700 pounds with a mileage of 70,000 miles, plus there was a fifty quid sat-nav, one of those round tubs of sweeties and even half a roll of toilet paper thrown into the bargain! Since December last year I feel there hasn't been a month where I've not shelled out for something.

Those who know me very well will know of my obsession with spreadsheets, sheets for expenditure, sheets for income, sheets for cycle mileage, sheets for Edward, etc. And while it's interesting to note that the average amount I spent per month on clothes increased by 67.07% between 2009 and 2010, and again by 54.18% between 2010 and 2011, it doesn't really make me an interesting person...

Where was I?

Edward has cost me more in repairs and tax than he initially cost. First we have the £70 replacement window when some dickheads stole my favourite pair of gloves, a woollen blanket and my sat-nav. Then £264 for a set of new front springs, £100 for new tyres,  £275 sweet pounds for a newly MOT worthy car and whatever costs today brings. I'm wondering if I would be forking out the same for a newer car or if I've really just shot myself in the foot by jumping at the first car I liked?

It's okay Edward, I still love you.

A More Prosaic Curriculum Vitae

I went for a ride today. My two-wheeled demon of delight delivered me through the forests of Templeton, over root and through mud, my smile grew. An explosion of brush up ahead drew my attention and I took a moment to relish in the sight of a deer bounding through the trees before saying- 'Alright, let's race!'

Despite how silly it sounds I'm often interrupted mid-ride by all manner of animals that I had previously forgot reside so close to the city. It prompts childish excitement and wonderment, but then exercise does the weirdest things to people.

Seven months ago I left my job at Debenhams for one of the weirdest opportunities I'd come across, a few posts ago you may remember my indefatigable enthusiasm and confidence for the new job I was proudly strutting into. What I was yet to realise was the powerful yet dishonest role that confidence has in life. Oddly enough I met more people who'd gone through the same desire for work that was unhealthily combined with low self-esteem.

Cheerfully I can look back and realise just how positive the learning curve was. Getting into the office at ten, dreading the effort of the facade and willing myself to be a bright, energetic and a positive salesperson. Running through cul-de-sacs, smart shoes pounding the pavement as my Red-Cross bib flaps in the wind, thinking about how positively I can introduce myself at the next door. Running back to a bus as seven wondering if all that lying was worth the fifty quid I might have earned that day. Getting back to the office for another few hours of repeating their brainwashing mantras: '5 Steps to a Conversation' and all the other shite. I really miss getting home at eleven mentally and phyiscally exhausted, convinced that this was excellent, confident, inspiring work that in no way involved me pretending I was someone I wasn't.

So there I was fighting with myself. Would it be worth acting as someone else, learning to deceive myself for the possibility of £150 a day, my own business in just under a year, convincing people to take out direct debits for charities, utilities and whatever else is worth the efforts of this Pyramid Scheme madness. I know I'm overly dramatic but ultimately I feel it really healthy to have been so drastically exposed to something I was not expecting and something that seemingly influenced me so strongly.

Most importantly I came out of it positively. Sure, the day I quit I lay in bed, I cried, I relished the ability to just sit down all day and choose to do something and have the time to do anything without desiring my bed!

A few days later I'd got sick of my laziness and struck out with my new found confidence. To bolster my self esteem I headed back to St Andrews, having worked there before I figured that if I was to work in a service industry, I might as well aim for kindly customers. I walked confidently around the small city garnering positive response after positive response. And then I walked into BlackHorn where Storm, yes Storm, basically hired me on the spot. After a short interview the next day which essentially confirmed how much I would be getting paid and how many hours I could work a week I was all set!

So now I manage a small eatery that makes the best burgers I've ever eaten and hires the best colleagues I've ever worked with. It's challenging in the right ways and it has a lot of scope for expansion and a development of my own understanding of a small business. Oh and I just got a pay rise... Happy Days!

Happy 9 Month Anniversary!

After passing my test last October I was determined to get a car, I had money set aside and I knew the foray into a new purchasing experience would be fun, or at least challenging. To be frank, it was more or less terrifying. I should have known that the owner of a Peugot 106 that had grown an exhaust the size of a prison arsehole wasn't my perfect car when he mentioned it was 'sure to impress the ladies when you're cruising past Fattie's on a Saturday night'. I definitely shouldn't have mentioned my theory about the relationship between loud cars and small penises, at least not while sitting in the car.

I spent many hours trawling Gumtree and eBay, making new friends and laughing uncontrollably at some of the choice descriptions that flitted across my screen. Eventually I made contact with a Spanish chap who was selling his ten-year-old Astra for a decent price. He had a cool name and I met him in Lidl car park after work and took the car for a test drive in the dark. Instantly I couldn't put the car into reverse. Being a few months since my test and not a single mile driven I was somewhat nervous, I had no idea what to be feeling for but I was just gonna wing it. Once out of the car park everything went quite smoothly and I'm sure I didn't hear any bangs or clunks, I was very happy, and he was offering to agree to a price that day! After a short deliberation I decided to bite the bullet and just a few weeks later I was the proud owner of a beautiful blue Astra.

We went to Lunan Bay. I drove all over the place getting used to how different it was to the car I learnt in. Eventually I found I didn't think anything of jumping in the car and going exploring, and frequently I would get home from work and just want to drive. So across the Tay I went and sat, enjoying the lights and the view looking back home.

After only a week in my possession we set out on our first long journey together down to High Houses near Ireby in Cumbria, a decent long trip that took me through Glasgow and Carlisle before venturing out into country roads and up dirt tracks. The weather was predictably horrendous but, unfazed, I got used to torrential rain on the motorway, found the ins and outs of the radio, heating and picnicking in the car!

Considering the state of the weather (monsoon level downpours) I was quite proud of our teamwork and just how comfortable my four hour journey south was. The return trip was even less eventful although I feel the suspension may have at this point begun to protest the rough tracks of farmland Cumbria.

After Christmas I took advantage of my time off and the bad weather to explore Glenshee. Taking the scenic (read longer) route up I charged along some fantastic country roads, pausing to enjoy the gorgeous and desolate countryside that can be found just North of Dundee. Finding the resort was surprisingly easy and to my joy I purchased a dirt-cheap lift-pass and exhausted myself on new pistes and fairly good snow. As darkness began to fall I set off for home. My first excursion on pitch-black country roads was not necessarily and enjoyable one: I didn't know the roads and I  constantly felt like I was travelling too slow, the anger building in the cars behind me causing several grumpy outbursts aimed completely at my lack of experience. Home safe, car parked, I sat behind the wheel a little longer, I opened the window to let a little tension out and laughed somewhat hysterically at the challenge I had stumbled upon and cruised through, albeit profanity-laden.

While Edward... ahem, yes, myself and a few work colleagues deemed that a suitable name. While my faithful steed continued to do shopping duties and visits to St Andrews, another long trip was planned and soon we set of for Dalbeattie. This time our group numbered three, Mariel playing DJ and map reader, a fantastic combination if a Dundonian club would ever see one. We travelled South with few issues except the price of motorway service coffees. Extortion! Madness! And following some more exciting excursions through flood water and complicated one-way systems we toasted our success with yet more over-priced coffee.

My second trip out to Glenshee left me bewildered and heading for Perth but it was worth it's weight in petrol (just a tenner!) The day was incredible, horrendous weather and powder like porridge but when the slope steepened the feeling of leaning in, smoothing the board left and right, and slashing just made my whole winter. The fact I had only driven an hour and spent well under fifty quid made the fact that I was shredding all the sweeter. The sun brightened as it threatened to drop over the horizon and I grab a few sweet shots, only to pull out of my craterous layby and hear a thundering scrape come from the car... 

'Ah shit! What have I done?! 

Wait, is that a fighter jet? Thank god!'

Cars cost money though, and with the suspension clunks and the junkies who liberated my favourite pair of gloves the total cost for a ten-year-old Astra is looking closer to a grand than I had hoped.

While the cost may be rising, without Edward I would not have had the fantastic and exciting experiences of driving south for Christmas (and bringing back all the left-over food), joining my sister and the Doonham Derby Dolls in the Spiegeltent for a fantastic, funky and wheely good night, snowboarded in Scotland for the first time and worn out at least two pens describing my best drives so far!

My hope is that he comes out of the garage much healthier than my wallet and continues to join me on some fantastic explorations.

Get yourself a car, and go explore, you never know what's just around the corner.

New Job, New Suit

Tomorrow I start a new job. I feel the need for a fanfare here...

As the strings section build tension and excitement, the trumpets enter majestically and musical elation accompanies me as I leave the doors of Debenhams, strip from my eleven month cocoon of a plain restaurant uniform and lo! 

I am revealed as a beautiful butterfly of direct sales, dressed to the nines in my new suit accentuated beautifully by a new tie...

Only to discover I'm actually naked in Dundee city centre, cheered (or should that be jeered) by the fine residents of this Scottish city.

As I finish my last shift I'm full of trepidation and nervous excitement, somewhat sad to leave the routines I've become so adept at, the monotonous repetition of retail-speak I have become so fluent and, most importantly, sad to be leaving some excellent friendships I've built along the way.

I'm elated though: I'm leaving behind many hours of pointless stress and frustration that has plagued the job almost since the start and I'm leaving several acquaintances that I've endured rather than enjoyed. Finally the No-Through-Road signs that sat next to my name-badge can now be banished as I step forward into something that might actually have development at its core.

I also move out of retail and into sales. While my new colleagues seem more fitted to an American sit-com, I may enjoy the occasional high-five and use the endless pep-talks to my advantage. I can certainly look forward to a challenge, a growing confidence and thick skin, a better understanding of keeping myself mentally positive and of course, a lot of healthy walking in the beautiful Scottish weather.

My overzealous acceptance of a new job anywhere but retail may have landed me in a tempest of ridiculous hours and overtly confident colleagues but I'm confident that the knowledge and experience I will garner will outweigh my very likely exhaustion.

Despite reading many negative discussion surrounding my new style of work I am determined not to feel corraled into staying and view my time as I crop I simply need to reap the profits of experience from.

To understand why I am justifying this so completely to my dear readers (and myself), I shall explain my new job from alternate personalities...

Percy Pessimist would say 'You'll be traipsing from door to door in the arse-end of the worst areas of every town and city in shitty weather getting doors slammed in your face, threatened with knives that have been intimate with internal organs on far too many occasions. Oh, and your bosses with continue to dangle a carrot just out reach before admonishing you for neither being tall enough, nor trying hard enough to jump high enough for it.'

Oliver Optimist will tell you that 'Here is an opportunity to excel. Entrepreneurs don't give up when they can't reach a goal, they beg, barter and steal a ladder to climb, and when that ladder breaks they will climb upon the corpses of those who have fallen before them. They will succeed no matter the odds. When you dream of being a millionaire, you can't let the common muck with no motivation hook their barbs into you and drag you down into the murky depths of dole and mediocrity. This is not a job. This is a career. This is a lifestyle. 

Juice!!! 

(Join us in creating excellence! or expansion. Whichever you prefer).

Percy tells you more about the job, but he ignores the simple fact that every hour I am outside my comfort zone I will be gaining experience, from both good and bad outcomes, that I can carry with me on my next leg of life. And Oliver is a lying shit, spouting manipulative garbage that is meant to motivate and keep you happy as you spend ridiculous hours reaching for a carrot that you'll never get to stir fry. Unless you don't mind heart-attacks at 26 and a sense of self-belief that Icarus would be wary of.

Despite my own admonishment I'm still convinced it's a worthwhile expedition into the unknown. I can't sit comfortably forever. And that is where I think this endeavour has sprung from: with a failing confidence in the (admittedly vague) plans I had for my post-University life and a complete lack of faith in any direction I half-heartedly turned my attention to, I have been meandering through the last six months, working a pointlessly stressful minimum wage job during the day and drinking too much while loathing in self-pity because I wasn't doing anything to try and get out of the situation I was in. I must admit that this was punctuated often and brilliantly with the exclamation marks of days spent with my girlfriend. Nonetheless, a few hours back in the restaurant was enough to pitch me back into the cul-de-sac of crappy thoughts.

So, head up, shoulders strong, I'm marching into a new job. And you'll be sure to hear more about it here. 

Roll on tomorrow.

 

Mix-tape Worthy Music

In discussing good studying music my girlfriend and I struck gold in exactly the same region of musical inspiration.

While the dark rainy streets of Paul Kalkbrenner could give me an aggressive focus strengthened by some more electronic tunes pervaded by base and a high beat-per-minute I realised that in the past this steady wears your ears out and you reach a point where you just want silence.

Well we found something even better, I kept up the energy but toned down the electricity by reaching for Rodrigo Y Gabriela, whose blend of Spanish guitar and Metallica riffs always energise and excite me.

But finally she knew the answer and in we welcome Buena Vista Social Club. They remind me of my parents taste in music, the depth of their collection and how nice it is just to be home and riffling through dusty records and CD's, discovering gems that Spotify or YouTube would never let me stumble upon.

What I've noticed though is that this summer music is completely at odds with the freezing temperatures outside, my desire to strap in and head out on the snowboard is thwarted by our inevitably wet weather and all this music does is confuse me more.

But it makes me happy.

Productive Tuesdays

Today was another day off work and I knew I was going to be productive but I didn't know how. I definitely did not expect to be up at 6.11am, my mind reeling from a frankly absurd but inspiring dream. Afraid to forget it I jotted down the more normal part and couldn't stop myself.

A dense, metallic thunk described a gun landing beside my head, the metal shining amongst the thistles that scratch my skin. The owner speaks, a sense of madness and... arousal in his voice. 

'So, with us both being alone here, and you being young and weak, maybe wanting a little spare change. How about we play a game, a game where you take a grenade in your hand and see if you can hold it all night. The way I see it, you don't have a choice.'

At nine I was still writing and needed food, I toasted the last slice of the loaf and so I started the process of baking another, the yeasty mixture bubbling merrily away in a floury crater.

As I was kneading the dough and listening to Radio 6 I was thinking back over watching Red Bull Rampage last night, the pinnacle of danger and creativity in the mountain-bike world. Despite the horrendous commentating it still inspired me to try out the jumps I had found last week.

I quickly changed and leapt out the door. I pushed hard because I didn't want to spend too much time out, I had other things to do today as well. My lungs hurt, my sinuses burnt, was this a cold coming on? My legs were coping though and the colder weather didn't need much change in clothing. I was barely battling the wind that had decided not to blow of the sea.

The wet leaves made for a completely different trail today.

My flatmate claims I'm an adrenaline junkie because I mountain-bike and snowboard. I disagree on the basis that I scare myself often and I don't always crave that fear and the resultant biological response, I do not need the rush, I just enjoy it. Jumping has always been that step further as you are willingly sending yourself into an unbalanced situation and that is why it has taken me a long time to build myself up to jumping despite being comfortable going fast down steep and technical stuff for plenty of years. The small jumps I have done are incredibly fun and I know improving my riding with speed and skill will be intensely satisfying.

Testing myself on a few new lines today proved that as I was whooping and hollering through the trees sounding and looking like an over-excited kid. It just annoyed me that I didn't really have any idea whether I was taking enough speed, clearing the flats and riding the landings smoothly, there just wasn't enough marking in the dirt to see how the changing speeds differed in distance. The fun could only last so long it was my decision not to try a bigger line that put me in a defiant mood. 'Fine, I'll go hit the smaller line but faster and more stylish than usual.'

And of course, I fell, and am looking forward to good sized bruise on my right hip.

On the plus side the marks I made as I slid through the leaves let me know that I was making good distance on the small jumps at least.

The ride home was uneventful, legs stronger than last time, the sky clearing a little. A smile on my face despite the bruised ego.

Time to bake the bread.

Funny shape today, whoops.

And as if to complete the writing stereotype, I'm treating myself to a coffee in a funky shop, typing on my Mac. Shame on me.

Wormit and Beyond

Following my previous jaunt out to Links Wood with just my film camera, I took the little digital out to capture my exploration. Once again the weather played along nicely.

I do like my fish-eye

And I do like the Tay Bridge. Especially when the tide is low.

Still life beneath the bridge.

It's good to capture this from the opposite end of the bridge

Crazy angles makes me smile

Low tide, big skies.

The path into the wood starts on old tarmac, the trees leaning over, as you climb the short hill you reach doorways of vegetation that open out onto the next section, a little different and steadily more secluded.

The moss is taking the road back over. Its slick surface all the more exciting.

In the midst of another 'doorway'.

The next section is covered with pine needles and the dense 'green' smell fills my nostrils.

Eventually the moss has overthrown the tarmac. Steadily the road is replaced by dirt.

The entry into the single-track. Pleasure awaits the explorer.

Above the quarry you wind between trees, the wind carrying the noise of birds into the woods.

Rusted buckets catch my eye.

My obsession with rust continues.

Decaying brambles fascinate me too.

A lonely tyre, cracking in the sun,

Lunch, and a view to fit.

Wormit Why Thank You!

A short while ago I visited you out of impulse to discover you had some wonderful sights to see...

You gave me architecture beyond the industrial brutality of Dundee...

And you gave me my favourite shot of it too.

The details of your parks excite my photographer's organ...

And you made me want to buy my own little castle.

You fed my rust obsession...

And made me want all streets to look like this.

You took me far from Dundee.

Dundee was certainly given a different shine from the other side of the Tay.

Today's journey was again borne almost out of whim. My less than favourable stress levels and resultant chaotic episodes necessitated a return to my old excercising self in order to quell the manic level of RLA, or Real-Life-Anxiety that I presumed was the basis for my desire to drink and perpetuate my less than ameniable attitude to myself and life in general.

My sense of exploration looked out of my kitchen window and across the Tay Bridge. Wormit shall be my destination and beyond that, I have heard rumours of pastoral and woodland, meandering trails seen from the train as you are swiftly swept between the big cities of Scotland.

A late start to the day seemed to have scuppered my chances but following an afternoon coffee I threw on my shorts grabbed a bag and leapt into the road. Instantly I was excited to be back on a proper (ish) ride, running out of Perth Rd I cut right, onto the little trail that I thought remained beside Grouchos, there's nothing left of it and by misjudging the hedge-gap at the end I ensured it was a proper ride.

Colliding with the fence allowed the big cog up front to make itself known on the back of my calf. Embarrassing injury aside I cranked onwards up the lift onto the bridge, my trackstand skills pitifully out of practise.

Once upon the bridge I drew in the view, I quickly recognised the suffering of returning from long exercise-free periods, this was good, I knew I could push on through it and relish in my smoke-free lungs. I cruised through Wormit, enjoying the sites I'd first seen, noticing new ones but willing myself to keep the rhythm up until I had made good distance. Passing out of Wormit I found myself spotting farms and the tracks that wound up the hills around them, all I had to do was find my way up them and the route down would sort itself out.

Continuing along the main road I recognised some of what I had seen from the train and shot out in that direction before getting distracted by a cosy, moss covered road heading up a hill I had espied before.

Instantly I felt enclosed by the countryside, the noise of the A92 dulled and the comforting green mass of nature cushioned my senses. A short and simple climb was topped by the gorgeous Sandford House, the grand window causing an exclamation to escape my lips. Stopping for a drink and to peruse the view I was approached by one of the residents who very kindly pointed out the path to Gauldry, a discreet route that would take me over the hill itself, I thanked her, somewhat bemused by her friendliness.

As I grabbed a photo of the window that had caught my eye on the way up I was approached by the owner of Sandford House itself, doing a little afternoon gardening. She told a short history and the plans for creating self-catered holiday homes, take note, it's certainly a gorgeous place to stay. She also mentioned that the area I had seen from the train had a good network of paths, bloody excellent news! I decided to head for my initial goal and save the Gauldy route for another day, unsure of its difficulty and distance I had photo opportunities on my mind

With the mentality I had inhabited for the past few weeks I had completely forgotten about the places where strangers say hello as they pass. Being on the bike changed that; most cyclists greet each other anyway but being approached with smiles and not scowls was something that had thrown me into confusion for a good minute or so. It felt different out here and I was so happy for that.

Onwards! I pushed off and sped down the slick driveway, throwing a couple of sketchy skids into the mix as the grin grew across my face. I popped out onto the road, zipped past the Moffat and Williamson bus garage and was instantly atop more mossy tarmac, the old main road forging a path for me towards the woods. Once more nature encroached upon the old work of industrious mankind, I wasn't going to be exploring abandoned industries today though. What I found instead was a gorgeous bit of singletrack, overgrown, rooty and just a little bit technical, it was the perfect warm up for my rusty skills. What's more, it appeared to be just a small section of a larger network. My exclamations grew into the double digits as I rode out into an opening, this lake-view revealed beneath me.

Excuse the phone quality. Classy film photos coming soon.

A quick drink, and relax before I was back on my way. Taking the downhill path back the way I came was the most fun I have had in so many months it is hard to describe. I missed almost every smooth line, I almost threw myself off the bike on the only jump and I barely pumped a depression. It did not matter a jot because just being there, for those sixty or ninety seconds, on the edge of control and flashing past trees I forgot everything, absolutely everything that bothered me since the last time I lost myself to the two-wheeled demon. This is one reason why I love cycling.

I tested the slickness of mossy tarmac. Verdict - I do enjoy a good drift on a bike, keeps the heart racing!

I almost achieved my goal of riding across the Tay Road Bridge no-handed, a goal I only realised today. Old-Man-Finger-Dancing was definitely surplus to requirements, and probably very embarassing.

Yup. I totally took that while cycling...

The final climb home stung the thighs but now I'm here I couldn't be happier.

Crank On and Enjoy Life.


Next time on Crank Chronicles... My bike got stolen... again.

Nature Calls for a Laugh

I'm standing at a bus stop, taking a piss.

Let me set the scene, my left leg rests upon the melted remains of a plastic bin, my right upon a weather-beaten fence, my genitals neatly concealed from every conceivable vantage point.

The bus arrives.

I was caught out. Having left a friends house I stood counting my change realising I was several minutes early. Without my usual companions of biker-cum-pub-quizzer I'd realised those extra impromptu beers racing through me. If i was ever going to survive the forty minutes home I would need to release the inevitable evil force amid my bladder. 

So I let go, the tension flowing free, all over the pavement.

Amidst the pitter-patter of my last beer against the slats of the fence I hear and all together different pitter-patter, that of someone running, someone about to intrude upon my personal pee session. My heart races and I question what is worse; openly urinating in front of someone at a bus stop or giving my Jeans a toilet acid wash and making the 40 minute bus ride home a whole lot worse for everyone on board.

Choosing the more charitable route I finish up comfortably and seconds later the bus arrives. I have joined the club of a lucky few

The guy standing behind me doesn't look impressed though.

Denise

14th March 2013 - A Thursday

I open my eyes to view the beauty that is dust sparkling in sunlight, a ray formed between my blind and the windowsill. The easterly orientation of the window lets me know that it is morning. My mind turns to today's tasks, no doubt something academic, what else?

As I un-fold myself upright my bookshelf of developed negatives passes through my periphery on my way to the bathroom. A checklist of photo ideas scrolls past my eyes as I note the sunshine and distinct lack of clouds as I look west. Flushing the toilet I turn on the shower and wish the water would fill my head with essays. All I'm thinking about is that my trusty SLR is too temperamental to use anymore...

Today's goal has been realised.

Belt buckled, laces tied, jacket zipped, door locked - I step energetically forth into the chill sunlight and head townwards.

Full of trepidatious anticipation I push open the door, the blue and yellow logo passing through my periphery. Down the alley lined with vacuum cleaners, towards the forest of musical instruments. My eyes are focussed behind the glass. One, two, three, camera bodies, blind and decapitated without their lenses.

My enquiries leave me disheartened, not a single lens in the shop that would mate with these bodies, nor one at home. I go to leave and search out the other Pawnlands, but wait! I hear the call and return to the desk where she awaits me.

As my eyes follow every curve I know I've seen her before, dreamt about her, longed to feel her tender grip, the sweet sound of her release...

'Denise...' I whisper ecstatically under my breath.

'Sorry?' The assistant looks at me out of the corner of her eye.

'...uh, nothing.'

Shit, they'd have a field day if they knew I already had a name for her... Denise Sloane Lolita-Reagan, our beautiful partnership has begun...

_________________________________________________________________________________

And now just a week short of our Quarter-Year Anniversary I'm going to re-cap some of our greatest moments.

March

I bought her a lens-cap, gotta keep those eyes pretty.

Dundee has some real contrast to it.

She went drinking with me.

Old signage, always pretty.

How quaint, this spray can is in love.

Magdalen Green. Finally some sun. I like the bandstand, you'll see.

April

Also got her a screen protector - safe-screen is fun screen.

All things placed in our streets should be this pretty.

I always think the night adds something to the character of a city.

Alien Grass. It's a potent illuminator.

I like that it's slightly dutch-angle, adds to the horror. Is that a person on the roof?

Phwoar! How's that for April showers!?

Our memories of WWII crumble like dragon's teeth, soon just another grain of sand.

A lonely Tentsmuir resident. Light rain is refreshing on a bike ride.

The view from my bedroom. The flare on the right hand side was a full moon and I spent hours trying to get different shots.

  

Some light sunbathing, pretending to be lost in Tentsmuir

Exercising my manly fire-making expertise. Warming beer like a numpty though.

May

Introduced her to Mr Man Frotto, sturdy chap, bit on the heavy side though. They got on like a chain and anchor, swimmingly.

It can be blue in Dundee sometimes. (Maybe I should remember to change my white balance after shooting long exposures.)

Seymour Lodge. Project Horror incomplete as of today.

I love wrought iron. Daffodils and quiet nights wandering the city.

'Hello? Why yes I did see an odd fellow wandering around with a large stick and a blue jacket.'

The jacket took on a decidedly luminescent characteristic.

Pier 23 - Home to Mr Bright-Buttocks.

Tesco and Riverside from up high. Project incomplete.

I really love light-painting.

Went on a double date with Frotto and his new partner Reme Oat. He's a very patient and quiet guy but I'm getting a sneaking suspicion that he and Denise have a strong connection, they get on very well, they even finish each other's exposures and I'm starting to think they have a passing resemblance to a certain Parks and Recreation character.

Watch this space, more to come...