Constructive Criticism

Criticising constructively is a hard skill to learn.

But if the criticism isn’t received it doesn’t mean you didn’t give it constructively and with care.

Because taking criticism can be hard too.

But if we don’t take the criticism on board it doesn’t mean it wasn’t constructive. Or that you were wrong to give it. Or that we were wrong to not take it on board.

Making things better is complicated. Not everybody wants to. And those of us who do don’t always, or even often, get it right.

Constructive Criticism is a valuable part of the process.

It takes practise.

So…does my bum look big in this?

Never Again

Every time I’ve moved house, or helped somebody else move house, I say “Never Again”. I’ve done one or the other of these things over thirty times.

But there always seems to be another Again.

In fact I should be very grateful for the health and fitness to be able to do this. But eventually it will stop, and Never Again will be carved somewhere upon a stone, or upon somebody else’s memory of me.

For now the aim is to at least be able to move myself and other things until I’m well into my old age. And at my age it is wise to be putting some regular effort into keeping that possibility, as well as myself, alive.

I’m doing that as best I can. And though it’s nicer to be walking up beautiful hills and mountains, rather than dragging king size mattresses up three sets of stairs, in its own way, it’s all fun.

So don’t write my obituary just yet.

Have A Nice Day

I hope YOU are well.

This blog is written by me, and is often about me.

If you are reading this though, then you must feel some kind of connection with my experiences and my perspective on them.

But still. Your life is not mine. And I have either no knowledge, or, even if I know you well, only the merest flicker of an inkling, about how the world is looking for you right now.

I’m bringing to mind some of the faces that I do know, and who I know do read this blog. You are bringing a smile to my face, despite my ignorance about you and the goings on in your conscious mind.

And to those reading whom I don’t know at all … well, I wish I did know you. Maybe one day.

And, as they allegedly say in the U.S. of A….

Have A Nice Day.

A Peculiar Peace

A Peculiar Peace has descended. A respite from the tornado. But also an absence of a certain life force.

It has been great having the grand weans here, to the point where I have paid pretty much no attention to the Mull Of Kintyre music festival, which has been occurring here in Campbeltown this weekend. Some things will always be more important than even our most passionate of pastimes.

Anyway, there has been lots of music happening in our house. Me on the guitar singing away with, and to them. Them having a strum. Or producing lots of either completely improvised or very repetitive tunes out of the wee electronic keyboard. A cacophony of joyful noise.

Out in the street on Saturday, on the way back from the park on the seafront (Jock’s Boat) and after the obligatory ice-creams, we passed the local restaurant, Forty Two. 

My 8 year old grandson shouted out: 

“That’s the same as one of your songs, Opa” .

And that kind of recognition is more than enough for me.

Of Mice And Me

The Grand Weans have invaded.

…and this next sentence is being written after the kind of time gap that happens when five “8 and unders” (and their parents!) are in the house. Before that I’d been travelling up and down the land moving my old Pa into our esteemed establishments. His own private digs, within this very house, are not yet ready.

…Oh…another gap…. The electrician is just isolating a circuit.

So an anarchic kind of wonderful chaos is afoot. You will understand that this can have an effect on even the best laid plans Of Mice And Me. Yet, at some point, The Usual Routine will fold a calm blanket over everything. And hey, we can all appreciate that when it happens.

But there is, I’m pretty sure, only one life. And riding these kind of waves is an excitement that I definitely don’t want to wish away.

On that note, we’re just about to head off to the beach.

Might see you tomorrow…..

Heaven Sent

Just a head’s up today to my friend Norman Lamont who has written and recorded a brilliant album called Turn with his wonderful band The Heaven Sent. Highly recommended.

Norman is a few years older than me, but an inspiration in regard to the energy and creativity and musical curiosity he puts into everything he does.

I think he’s supped more than a wee drop of the Living Water himself, I would say.

Dad-Like

My Dad has moved in with us.

We drove up with him a couple of days ago and I’ll be heading back the 440 miles tomorrow with a van to collect the furniture and things that will fit into his new life here in Campbeltown.

It’s a big deal for him. But he continues to be very Dad-Like.

I wonder if I’m a constant “Dad-Like” to my boys. Not sure that I want to know. I like to think that I’m full of surprises. But possibly not.

Anyway, my apologies for the very recent lack of blog, and any more lack in the coming days. I’d like to keep at least some people in my life on tenterhooks about what to expect next though….

Fresh Out The Pack

I do sometimes wish I’d learn how to play other people’s songs, and wonder if I still should try. If I had a recommendation, aside from “write songs!” to young singer/songwriters, it would be just that.

Learn some covers.

The truth is that you won’t easily get a gig without them.

I didn’t really come to songwriting by playing other people’s songs. And every time I think about learning a cover these days I find that I end up writing a new song. Which then needs to be learned of course. I can’t even play the whole of my own catalogue. Not by a long stretch. So endeavouring to do that, is a never ending hamster wheel.

On the other hand….most writers don’t need this advice. Most are more in danger of getting stuck in the rut of singing covers and forgetting to write new songs.

And personally, as much as I love the old songs, I’d always plump for a brand new, Fresh Out The Pack, original.

Big Shows

I’m generally an evangelist for “Small Is Beautiful”. And I’ve never really been a big fan of “classical” music. But last night I watched a TV recording of a show by the very popular Dutch conductor and violinist, Andre Rieu. Mainly because some of my wife’s family had recently been to see him and his orchestra perform at the same venue in Maastricht, and were vouching for its brilliance.

It was big. But, despite my usual reservations, it was a very lovely thing. It visibly brought a lot of joy and life to many people.

Andre Reau’s gift is to prick the pomposity, and lift the life giving soul of the music out from the midst of something that must be a massive organisational effort. Not an easy thing to do, but he did it with aplomb.

I can get a bit sniffy about entertainment on a massive scale, films and music in particular, not because of their popularity, but because they often seem to be chasing the lowest common denominator down to the bottom of the well of mediocrity.

But when these Big Shows are done so well, and with such heart…well, I was won over anyway. I get it.

Say Something!

Have you ever tried to stop reacting.

To the trigger, that sets you off ranting, or moaning, or shouting, or whining, or ……

But it can be confusing for the person at the other end of this dynamic. They were, consciously or sub-consciously, expecting you to rant, or moan….etc. That’s what you ALWAYS do.

”Say Something!”

So it’s not just about not reacting. It’s about reframing our whole way of reacting. Which might be the reason we don’t often move out of those ruts we’ve dug for ourselves.

It takes time and effort to see the other person, and learn a new way of communicating

Never-the-less, putting a stop to the usual reaction, is still a start of the process.

Especially if at the same time we don’t try to deny the emotion that is attempting to force our hand, but simply let it fade away, deprived of the oxygen of conflict.

Am I Bothered?

Like you, I have things that I’m bothered about.

And like you, perhaps, I think other people should be bothered about those same things. You should be bothered about it.

But damn and blast it, you’re not! Which, quite frankly, is an insult to my sense of innate rightness. Am I Bothered? Yes I am!

You can’t stop me being bothered. But perhaps you could acknowledge it, without judgement. Whether or not I’m justified in my “bothered-ness”. It helps a bit when you do that.

We all need to be seen. And unacknowledged Bother can sometimes inflate to dangerous levels that can cause real, rather than imaginary problems.

It Won’t Last Long

I’ll be honest. You’re not in my thoughts a lot of the time. Whoever you are. Even if you’re my wife.

I know. It doesn’t sound very romantic. Or caring. It probably wouldn’t make for a very good song:

”Darling…I hardly ever….Thi-i-i-ink …..about you…..ooh, ooh, ooh….”

Yes pop lovers, that was It Won’t Last Long by The Every Bodies.

Even those things which we describe as our passions, even our obsessions, are only a brief flicker in the ocean of consciousness. Something, seemingly more mundane and less important, will soon jump in and say - “give me a little bit of your time”.

And we will oblige.

Realising this might be a path to holding on to it all with a little bit of a lighter grasp. Coz, it will soon disappear anyway.

So, what are you thinking about right now?

It won’t las….….ach, you know the lyrics already.

She Is The Song

I was as struck with awe as everyone else at the time, when I first saw the video of Sinead O’Connor singing “Nothing Compare’s 2 U” by Prince, on TOTP’s.

When somebody enters a song, when She Is The Song, so completely, it is impossible not to be moved or to remember. Even through a television screen.

I haven’t followed Sinead’s career closely since. Just been aware from a distance of the conflict and emotion she both created and experienced. She cared very deeply about truth, and that is something which is a lot rarer than it should be, once fame arrives. Fame clearly wasn’t something that brought her much joy.

You will probably know she died yesterday, aged 56, - two years younger than I am right now.

I didn’t know her, but like many, I know enough to feel both grateful for her life and sad for her passing.

Rest In Peace Sinead.

This Particular Onion

Where does it come from? This word. The next thought. Or sound. Or sense of anything. Seriously … where does it come from? Did we make it happen? It feels like we did. But did we? And anyway, where did that feeling come from?

If we keep un-peeling This Particular Onion of profundity … we inevitably get to the middle. And as everybody knows, at the very centre of an un-peeled onion, is precisely nothing.

But where did that come from?

If you’ve spent much time, thinking these kind of, like, deep thoughts, man….well it might seem like it is all a very good reason for getting drunk and forgetting everything for a while. Or getting religion. (Other escape routes are available)

Maybe so. Or perhaps it is simply what inspired Bob Marley, and could inspire us, to spot those three little birds.

Congrats

From an email I received yesterday:

Hey David,

Congrats, since you joined Todoist 9 years, 7 months, 1 day ago, you’ve already completed 0 tasks!

Productively!

The Todoist Team


I responded of course. It’s only polite.

Dear Todoist Team,
Thanks for keeping tabs on my achievements. And I appreciate the level of detail. Not even my daughter-in-law manages to remember the number of days!

I suspect, however, that you possibly overlooked the need to explain to AI Bot, whom you so kindly asked to send me this little love note, the meaning of the term “Congratulations”.

Either that or you and AI Bot are having a little bit of fun with me! Surely not?

Anyway, your kind message made me smile at this earlier version of myself. Best intentions and all that!

Yours Procrastinatedly,
I. Didn’tist

ps. Although on reflection I do remember a couple of tasks I got done in that time period, so maybe the congratulations is in order after all. Are you sure you haven’t got a record?

Every Time

You hear tell of folk “Deconstructing” an art-form. Messing with the format. Taking the materials apart and making something new.

To my mind that is what we are attempting to do Every Time we make art:

- That is how it’s done

- And this is how I’m doing it.

If it’s “Art” they are never quite the same thing. It’s just a question of degree.

And, as in Art, so too in Life.

Staying Up Late

Temporarily stopping something, means that the plan is to start again. But it’s hard when all the momentum has been lost.
Better to keep the habit going. At least that’s what I’m thinking.

What am I talking about?

Well, specifically, sleeping in on holiday. It crept up on me, even with the best of intentions. The lure of Staying Up Late dragged me in, like the middle-aged adolescent I sometimes am.

But I always needed the same amount of sleep. And there are always the same number of hours in a day.

I like my life better when I get up earlier.

Satnav Slaves

I always used to laugh at those stories about people driving into the sea because they mindlessly followed the Satnav.

Today we picked up some visitors from the train station. We took a nice Satnav detour on the way home to see more of the countryside. This detour took us onto increasingly more “rural” tracks until we came to a dead end in the middle of fields of green.

I had one of those awkward 10 point turns to avoid getting stuck in a ditch. But, hey, the visitors were very happy to laugh nervously at our misadventures.

And I’ll show a little bit more mercy in the future towards my fellow Satnav Slaves.

What’s In A Name?

What’s In A Name?

Sometimes more than is initially apparent.

A SUP Board is a Stand-Up paddle board. But the acronym doesn’t do the experience credit.

Paddle boarding has been such a great thing for me to learn. Brilliant for improving balance (VERY important once you hit the downhill section of the Ageing Graph) but not difficult to pick up, if you take it slowly.

I’ve been able to teach myself. We’ve got access to a big lake here in the Netherlands. It’s shallow for quite a way out, so ideal for those early stages of learning. But then there is a whole world to explore.

It is still slightly nerve racking heading across the lake to the other side - instead of around the edge. But sometimes I have the whole water to myself if I go out at the right time (early or late). And when the motor boats are out and about…well, more chance to improve the balance further, when their waves come by. LOL.

Lying still on my board in the middle of a relatively large expanse of water feels liberating.

And the quiet moments are sublime. I paddle up the little inlets and can see carp and perch swimming beneath. Easier to see than when sitting in a canoe. I can even sometimes watch the Great Crested Grebes swimming underneath while chasing the minnows. The dragon flies… well they fly alongside. The coots, moorhens, and various ducks dive for cover, heading into the reed beds with their chicks as I pass by - “What is this strange thing…a man walking on water!?”

The occasional blue flash of a Kingfisher darts past.

I haven’t experienced this particular brand of peacefulness before. It’s a cliche, but I do genuinely feel like a part of nature.

And it’s all happening on my “SUP Board”.

#FirstWorldProblems

My laptop screen is filthy.

And it turns out that giving it hundreds of little cleans over the weeks, months and years would probably have been a lot easier than trying to undo the damage of not having done so.

Anyway, I can still see to type obviously. So in that sense, no harm done.

In fact … it might be that I’m more bothered about what people THINK of me and my filthy screen…than the practical reality of actually having one.

But still, probably wiser to give it a clean now and then?

Hmmm. I’ve definitely got my share of #FirstWorldProblems.