Saturday, 13 February 2010


The third sunny day in a row. Maybe the "old crow" of winter is getting ready to fly off. Hope so. However, I won't feel that Spring really is on the way until I see my first snowdrop or crocus.

When I was in primary school (a million years ago) the teacher used to put a Hyacinth bulb in a clear glass vase of a shape which would let the bulb itself be held while letting its roots be dipped in the water below. Round about this time of the year - perhaps a bit later - she'd proudly take the vase out of the cupboard and show us how the roots had grown and forged downward in search of water. To this day I can never arrive at Spring without remembering that moment and thinking that Winter had really gone.

Donkey work to-day, committing a bit more of my comic novella to blogform. It's still a work in progress and will change. Feeling a bit naked about it at the moment. Am also working on a screenplay and a children's story about which more later.

Much in the media at the moment about Gordon Brown, the prime minister's, tears for his dead baby. I don't doubt the depth of his suffering but it is very suspicious that we are hearing all this so soon before the election. It sounds like the crassest of P.R. ploys to show that he is human after all. Normally, I would give him the benefit of the doubt but he has broken so many promises (referendum on the Lisbon Treaty not least among them) and shown such utter contempt for the Democratic process that I don't feel like giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Watching Labour trying to hang onto power reminds me of the sound of nails being dragged down one of those old fashioned school blackboards.

Friday, 12 February 2010


Like most of the Western World, the past eighteen months have been pretty grisly for me.

Like you, I have had enough of global financial crisis, climate scares, swine flu scares, politicians lining their pockets and the growing army of politically correct zombies telling me what to do.........and think!

As far as my own situation goes though, there are other factors which have led me to ask where the joy in life is to be found these days. I'm not getting younger (though I prefer to quote Miss Jean Brodie: "I am in my prime!"), my social life is not exactly glittering and I live on my own in a small flat in what used to be a small Scottish Fishing Village called Broughty Ferry. The plus factors are that I live directly above a pub which I treat like an extended living room and the "Ferry" is a charming place where practically everything you could need is five minutes away.

Don't get me wrong I am not feeling sorry for myself. I am just taking stock - doing a personal audit as they are fond of saying these days.

No, its just the brutal fact that I have managed to do so little with my life that has just recently landed like a mailed fist in my solar plexus.

I am self employed, in a very modest way, and that hasn't been a barrel of laughs recently. I seem to spend all my time scrabbling around to pay the rent etc so just so that I can go through the same mad dance next month and all the time my dreams of writing and film making get pushed further and further back into some even more remote hinterland. The things that I want to do I should have been doing by now. That was the plan. I'm a prisoner of my own cowardice. Well, I was until the dawning of this new decade.

Something about the clock ticking over into 2010 emboldened me. This is probably the last chance I have to stop my dreams from congealing beyond the point of no return.

From now on, creative life is moving to the forefront. If I am going to be broke I would just as soon that it was for a worthwhile reason. I don't want the worst of both the worlds any more.

All messages of encouragement gratefully received