Back In The Day

We won’t all be watching The Morecambe And Wise Christmas Special this Christmas.

Sorry if that means nothing to you, but….Back In The Day…that kind of thing actually happened here in the UK. Pretty much a whole nation (maybe 20 million of us anyway) would sit in front of a TV and watch exactly the same thing as each other.

And back in the day there were many other ways in which there was a sense of a shared culture.

Move forward 40 years (bloody hell!!!!!) and do we still have something in common to talk about the next day… a shared experience…that glues it all together.

To be honest, no. Not in the same way. And Covid and its aftermath seems to have eaten into that even more. Despite the fact that we are, in principle, Connected to the whole damn World via the World Wide Web. Society, for the time being at least, seems to many of us to be a more disparate, and possibly even a lonelier place.

But that doesn’t mean things can’t get better. We are more than capable of finding new forms of being together, and making society a positive and more coherent thing again.

And, as good as they were, I’m sure we can do better than The Beeb, The Two Ronnies, Top Of The Pops, Sunday with The Vicar Of Dibley, or whatever it might have been that helped you to feel part of something bigger.

So keep on dreaming, and doing your bit. Coz it's Peeps like us who change things or support the folk who are trying to.

Friendship And Music

We had a lovely wee Homesong last night.

And it was wee. The smallest yet. Just seven of us. But it really felt like one of the Ceilidhs of old, in which nearly everybody who came had the stage at some point. Very nice and relaxed. More conversation between songs or stories. More getting to know each other.

There has been a feeling, since Ye Great Lockdown, that people are less inclined to come out for this kind of thing. I’ve experienced a certain amount of disappointment, in that I’ve put a lot of effort into spreading the word.

If I can’t make it happen in my home, then is it really a thing at all?

But it did happen. I’ve always maintained that it’s not about numbers anyway. And, to be honest, last night was exactly how I had imagined the best Homesongs to be.

So I’m really happy about that. And I’m relaxed about the future for Homesong.

Friendship And Music in any form, is a beautiful thing.

Good News

I’m always struggling with the issue: “what’s the best use of my time?” It’s an almost impossible question to answer, and at the end of the day a decision has to be made and then just… well, IT has to be got on with. Every choice and decision rules out other choices and decisions.

Anyway, this is convoluted way of saying that I’m glad some people with the right kind of intelligence choose to use their time in ways that could potentially make a world changing difference. In this instance I’m talking about the guys and gals who have managed to take a big step towards making Nuclear Fusion a possibility.

If you don’t know what that is then find out more here.

But it’s potentially an incredible breakthrough which will make cheap and safe energy available to everyone, anywhere, at some point in the, hopefully, not too distant future. In our lifetimes.

So, some Good News then, at a time when the airwaves have been full of Bad versions of the stuff.

To Hope

We once had a three year old foster child who, while I held him during long periods of traumatic emotional outbursts resulting, we supposed, from the losses we knew he had suffered, would tell me repeatedly he was going to stab me in my face with a knife. Among other things. After long bouts of that I needed a hug as much as he did.

Yesterday a seventeen year old foster boy asked me how I was, and said “I love you”.

It happens that these two characters are the same person.

We can never predict outcomes, or fill in the dots between then and now. But it’s not a bad idea To Hope, to plan, and to work for the best kind of endings.

And not to give up.

The Blubbery Seal

I’m standing at the harbour feeling the -4 chill, while a curious animal bobs up very close by and gives me the stare.

The Blubbery Seal is in her environment, swimming, warm and cosy in the sea water, which will have changed temperature, but a lot less than the air in which I’m standing.

But I’m a human being. We’ve been adapting to circumstances for a long, long time. So, I’m kind of comfortable feeling cold, in the knowledge that I can soon warm up by the radiator at home. Or start running. Or buy a warmer coat.

It’s a problem to solve. It’s also a solvable problem.

But that doesn’t stop me feeling a little bit jealous of that seal, living instinctively in the moment, with just the right equipment built-in to cope right now.

So I say “hello” to the seal. She bobs back at me, and then, oh so gracefully, glides into the deep.

And I walk away before I’m frozen to the spot.

Everything Is New

How are you?

I hope you are well.

Please let me send you my bestest, most well meaningest wishes across Time and Space and T’Internet.

Take a moment to receive this little bit of cuddly connection.

I hope it makes you smile. Raise your eyebrows. Or at the very least, shrug your shoulders. Though I actually have no clue how you will react - whether I know you personally or not. And neither do you. It will be an automatic response.

So many things feel expected, or predictable, but nothing really is.

Everything Is New.

A Lucky, Lucky Man

Aren’t I the lucky one?

A glance right and I can see…I can SEE…a beautiful sunrise starting to reveal itself, like the ones you only get in the winter, with the seemingly cleaner light.

A glance up and I see a photo of four of my five wonderful grandchildren. No Caya on this one, but she’ll get her moment.

A glance around and I’ve got more Stuff than I need. In other words, by any standards, I’m a rich man.

It’s impossible to imagine that a man in my position could be discontent. But I don’t have to imagine it. I’ve been that person too many times.

Really, there might have been reasons for that, but there are no excuses.

I’m A Lucky, Lucky, Man.

Move On

It pays not to invest too much emotional energy into an ending over which we have no control.

I mean, we do it all the time. Football matches at the World Cup being a case in point. And I once saw the wonderful Bob Dylan, be anything but wonderful at the SECC.

It just helps not to.

I speak as someone who became so psychologically tied up with “out of my control outcomes” in the past that I used to think I was the one responsible for them, in some ludicrously superstitious, God punishing me, sort of way. Even though there was absolutely no way I could have affected those outcomes.

So yeah, we can enjoy being passive observers, and still fully engage with some musical or sporting event in the moment. But when the moment doesn’t live up to our hopes and dreams…well, those hopes and dreams are of the kind that should be treated very lightly, and allowed to drift on by, like a rain cloud passing through. As they do.

It’s better that way. It’s been. Now it’s gone. We Move On.

Tokyo Godfathers

Well, now it’s come to mind (yes Chris, I can’t get it out my head now) I think I should give you an early recommendation for a wonderful Christmas film to watch. Really it’s just a wonderful film full stop, so don’t reject it on the basis that it has the word “Christmas” attached.

It’s a Japanese animation, called Tokyo Godfathers. In fact, I’m pretty sure I may have mentioned it last year. I’ll probably be mentioning it next year too. Such an unusual, human, funny, charming and yes, festive, story. It warms the cockles of this old heart.

And we’ll be watching it again this year. It’s becoming a bit of a tradition.

Getting On With It

I spoke to a guy early on this VERY cold morning who was wading in the dark at the shore’s edge, singing football songs and smoking a fag.

I thought he was drunk, and that the bucket alongside was where his stash of bottles was stored. So initially I was watching with a bit of concern. But it turned out he was collecting shellfish. And that he’d been there since five am. And he did it regularly.

I’ve seen one or two people doing that job at a later hour, but never spoken to them. The fella in question must have seen my watching silhouette, and started speaking to me. He was very friendly, and clearly happy doing his job. It was a weirdly normal conversation in what felt like an odd time and place.

Despite the visually beautiful morning that it was, it ain’t an easy thing doing what he’s doing. But he was just Getting On With It. I’m going to remember him, and hopefully, I’ll see him again.

For me it was an inspiring encounter.

Somebody New

Yesterday is history.

It’s a book, a story, a reflection, a mirage, a recording, a shadow.

It’s about another person. Not me, or you.

Yesterday’s me, or you, no longer exists.

We’re both Somebody New.

Wide Awake

I’ve been taking an early walk down to the harbour and along the sea front. I go at about 6.30, which at this time of year means in the dark.

I go to just to take it all in. A wake me up. The people who are regularly starting work at this time, whether they be shop owners, fishermen, carers, builders or A.N.Others, are just doing what they do. It’s nice to experience all of that on a very cold and crisp December morning.

Life carrying on, like it does, all the time, everywhere.

The gulls at the harbour are Wide Awake. Some take to the wing when I walk by. Others are a little more “two fingers to the wind”. But they’ve all left their white and pungent “marks” in profusion along the jetty. It’s a kind of freedom.

On those days when it’s howling a gale there is a glorious, breath stealing experience to be had. But it’s been so still the last few mornings. On these kind of days every sound carries through the early morning air. The chug of the fishing boat as I watch it leave the harbour entrance. The little snort of the seals when they are around. Voices from a hundred metres away, greeting each other.

And then there is the smell. I’m very happy, because I seem to be starting to smell the sea again. That sense had left me after a number of years of living near to it. Maybe taken for granted. I don’t know. But it was always so bloody exciting as a child when we got a whiff, because we lived so far away from it back then. And now it’s back again, like a childhood returned!

Then finally, in the distance and after I’ve walked along the shoreline a little beyond the artificial town lights, over there beyond Davaar Island as she guards Campbeltown Loch, the sun is threatening to start chasing the darkness away, like it does every day.

The daylight will soon be here.

What’s In A Name?

What’s In A Name?

Today is the First Tuesday of the month. So I’m popping off to the library at one o’clock to see, on this occasion, my mate Chris perform a few songs, and listen to some local writers share some of their Words.

It’s amazing how those words, like “first” and “tuesday” can turn into names that turn into mental associations that turn into habits. And maybe even traditions.

Powerful stuff, if you think about it.

When I Put It Like That

This practise of writing words down each and, almost, every day.

It’s not an obligation.

It’s a practise. I’m practising.

But you could also call it playing.

Which, actually, is the same as working.

Only more fun.

At least it is When I Put It Like That.

Who Is It For?

These days, when writing alone, I make songs almost exclusively for myself to sing.

When I wrote this song though, I thought somebody else would get the job. Partly because of the style. But you know what, I’ve enjoyed singing it at home, and it really feels like my story as well. And so it’s found its way into my Fee Comes Fourth collection.

It’s always a useful question to ask when we are making something though:

Who Is It For?

Beware: I Live Here

At the end of my regular walk, I come out onto the road back into Campbeltown. The first house I pass has a sign at the front gate:

BEWARE: I LIVE HERE!

And below is a picture of a doberman with the softest, most gentle eyes you could imagine.

Now, I have heard that Doberman bark as he runs around the border sniffing me out…he sounds quite fierce to be fair…but THOSE eyes, they’d melt the coldest heart. And I’m not even a doggie fan.

That dog wouldn’t hurt a soul surely? And the “BEWARE” obviously means: don’t look into my eyes if you don’t want to be killed by kindness.

Anyway, words can mean lots of things, and I’m guessing that the owner of this house really likes visitors. I should knock on the door some time…

The Work That Exists

I’ve always thought, and still do, that I want to be creating Something until the day I’m done doing anything.

But how much is enough? And what about the creations that already seem to be complete?

I’ve decided to turn more of my energy towards editing, framing, organising and archiving The Work That Exists right now. And I’m belatedly realising that this is a huge part of the creative process. One which I’ve always tended to approach far too haphazardly. And one which scares and intimidates me to an extent.

Not that I’m done, by a long stretch, with making New Stuff, you understand. And it’s true that I’ve delved into this subject before.

But, like some weird Northern Hemisphere Bird Of Paradise, I’m beginning to start figuring out how I can build the perfect bower to show off all my existing feathery glory to its best effect.

If you’ve got it flaunt it!

The State Of Indecision

Setting a date to do This Thing.

It’s a decision that helps, because it removes all the That Things out of the equation. Millions of them.

Maybe you don’t struggle with decision making. I’m afraid I do. So much freedom (Hallelujah!) So many choices (Likewise!). But boy, oh boy. How do I use that freedom and those choices wisely? It’s a frequent dilemma.

And the truth is it’s never got any easier for me.

So I go on hunches, inclinations and a capacity to stick a pin on the calendar:

“OK, on Friday 16th December, we’ll have an open mic style Homesong at our house, for any local performers to come and play”.

There. That has ruled out millions of possibilities and choices, and obliterated The State Of Indecision off the face of the map. Such a relief.

ps. I did check with my wife first btw. I’m not THAT free.

Have A Nice Day

I’m very glad to meet you.

Because it is a kind of meeting. When you read these words a while after I wrote them, there are some branches of connection that join us together.

That’s not some weird flummery. It’s a reality. And those branches of connection are, at the end of the day connected to everything else.

It’s a shame when we get locked up in the tiniest fraction of our own minds when the whole universe is available.

So, I’m very glad to meet you. Have A Nice Day.

THIS is it.

Is this it?

Yes. THIS is it.

This valley of tears. This soft centred chocolate. This hard decision. This opinion. This angry face. This sense of guilt. This giggling grandchild. This silent walk in the woods. This interruption. This World Cup. This idle chatter. This smogasbord of experience.

This sentence.

This sound.

This song.