world of wattie mink

2008-03-13T11:24:00.006+01:00

March 13th: Life With You

Ah dear blog, I owe you an apology. I have been remiss in my futile effort of keeping you upto date of late but this has and will all change. Things take time in Holland you see. Take for example getting on the internet in the flat (apartment in Europe y'know). I also had to buy a new laptop along with furnishing the unfurnished gaff. All of which takes time & energy. Excuses I know but there ye go.

Anyway, job done, KPN'd up - 54 Mbs ADSL link established, so let the good times roll. Casema for TV is a chore but now working and I get to see loads of football albeit I miss the Scottish games but then there's loads of Irish bars in The Hague with Setanta for those I simply can't miss.

Then the weather - pretty dismal at times but when the sun shines it's ace - roll on summer. The beer here is strong though - gotta avoid the canals they are fookin deadly.

Tonight is a night for joy. The Proclaimers are playing Den Haag and I'm on my way from misery to happiness today ah ha ah ha ah ha ah ha yeah, I'm on my way......

2008-02-22T14:30:00.004+01:00

February 22nd: The Class of '85

I'm not one for reunions - what is past is definitely absent. But here in Delft I found this old jpeg tucked away on my wee USB drive and found myself absorbed with looking at all these faces from the past.

I still keep in touch with a couple of folks but for the most part everybody else is out there somewhere doing their thang!!!

They were a good bunch as I remember it for the most part - a couple of tossers as well but that's life ain't it.

2008-01-22T11:16:00.001+01:00

January 22nd:Delft
As per rolling a double six, (see Colin's blog), I find myself in the famous old town of Delft for the next six months at least. It will be fun getting to know Holland again.

I lived in the Hague 10 years ago and still remember Scotland scoring against Brazil in the '98 world cup and burning my knees as I went down in a victory celebration across the carpet. Too much cheap Dutch beer. Happy days, at least until Tom Boyd scored the winner for the jammy Brazilians.

Anyway, more Dutch posts to follow.

2008-01-14T11:48:00.000+01:00

January 14th: My Act of Remembrance

One year ago on this date we gave the rebel soul away to a place that was so very much a part of him - the North Sea. We did it on his 79th Birthday, today he would have been 80.

He was some bloke - he lied about his age during the war so we were always mixed up as a family about how old he actually was.

Pain, regret, sorrow, laughter, happy times, things said, things never said. It all blends into a mix that's hard to convey, get to grips with and move on from but we do because we have to - it's just the way it is for us.

He enjoyed the confusion.

2008-01-11T11:50:00.000+01:00

January 11th: Lady with Long Eyelashes

by Ailsa

2008-01-07T10:27:00.000+01:00

January 7th:
Dad Found

Happy 2008 anybody and everybody.

Anyway, whilst the female Minks were hunting and gathering in the post xmas sales I was tracked down to the Prince of Wales just off Union Street. All good things come to an end I suppose.

Xmas was good and busy - London for a catch up with other Minks and a bit of a party - and a rammy in Drum at the home of Ian Hardie & Pauline McGee, two very creative pals in the fields of art and guitar playing respectively.

A bit of a Scottish jam session ensued with the bairns on the Bodhrán (alongside special guest celeb Iain M Banks who was good craic) and a lot of other drunken bams. Magic.

Too much beer was consumed with a potentially disastrous and embarrassing incident in the pitch black of night at the local B&B involving taking a wrong turn whilst inebriated trying to find the lavvy but that’s a story for another time.

I heard on the radio this morning that it's Manic Monday - the busiest time for divorce papers being filed after the Xmas & New Year nonesense , new jobs being sought out by people and holidays being booked. Well I have thus far avoided the first (only just mind, cause if I had pished in the B&B wifies bedroom my heid would have been on a stick fae the wife like), I will have some exciting news on the job front (hopefully soon ) and I already did the third booking up a week in the sun whilst the hunters hunted and the gatherers gathered from the comfort of the Prince of Wales with a pie, a pint, a read of the paper and my mobile phone.

Manic Monday my arse! Everything is under control.

2007-12-22T18:36:00.000+01:00

Life is a Cabaret

Another year almost gone, festivities chapping doon oor doors. Magic.

For anybody who knows me, have a good, solid merry xmas and enjoy the new year in 2008. Even if we don't know each other, I wish you all well. After all it is the season to be jolly.

Make a difference, live life to the full because it's really true that we don't know what's around the corner. Everything continually changes and I'm okay with that. Life is a cabaret old chum, life is a cabaret. It's also got to be what you make of it (fuck quoting shite 80's bands now).

Word of caution however, for all that glitters there's always a step or two that needs climbing on the journey. Start your ascents and make it happen folks but watch out for nose bleeds.

2007-12-13T18:33:00.000+01:00

December 13th: Changeling

This fair takes me back to my youth. I used to love the bullshit polemics that Jim Kerr came away with and they were quite simply shit hot back then. As a fourteen year old stuck in Tillydrone they gave me hope of something better. I just had to go and get it. That was the hard part.

2007-12-04T11:26:00.000+01:00

December 4th:

Hurt

"beneath the stains of time
the feelings disappear
you are someone else
I am still right here"

It was a year past the 30th November since the Rebel Soul fae Aberdeen moved on, hanging up his bagpipes, always the true Scot, departing on our patron Saint's day.

I was going to do all sorts of things to remember him by but the truth was that in typical Scottish style I simply got bladdered with two of my brothers and our families. A way of hiding the stinging sensation still caused by remembering every moment of every last hour he was with me.

I thought Johnny Cash's song and Trent Reznor's lyric best sum up how I feel. I'm sure they wouldn't mind me sticking a few lines up here as the Rebel Soul loved the man and if he's gigging up in the heavens somewhere he'd have a front row ticket. Wattie Senior's last tune was "ring of fire" just before the curtain shut on him. Some thought it inappropriate, me, I thought it was Kwalitayyyy.

Da, you will never be far from me.

2007-11-28T08:51:00.000+01:00

November 28th: A Winter's Poem

I found this beautiful winter poem and thought it might be a comfort to you.
It was to me, and it's very well written...ENJOY!

' WINTER '
a poem by Abigail Elizabeth McIntyre
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
F**k Me!
It's Cold!

2007-11-20T16:39:00.000+01:00

November 20th: Rose Gentle

I've said it before, America does incredible memorials.

On special occasions e.g. veterans day (or as we call it remembrance day), American flags are often placed every 20-25 feet around the perimeter of major company buildings lest they forget. It would seem that Patriotism is still very much alive in the land of George Bush and naturally it is the same in the UK when we remember those who fell. However, some people now choose a white poppy as an alternative to the blood red.

I remember once going on a pilgrimage to find the grave of Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, the Canadian responsible for that famous poem “In Flanders Fields the poppies blow between the crosses row on row”…those words knock me to my knees. I am anti-war but I am pro-human and there is always a consequence. John McCrea is one example. I found his grave in Boulogne and paid my respects.

For those who served, and for those who are currently serving their Country, I can't help but wonder if they think that we adequately express our gratitude to them? Especially when the Mother of one soldier, Rose Gentle, has had to fight every bit of the way to get her voice heard. Her son Gordon, was killed due to a lack of adequate equipment. That’s crass.

In the 21st Century, surely planning and decision making can be got right in terms of supplying Logistics to the Troops. Surely we can engage in dialog with Rose, get it all out in the open, yet, no, politicians wring their wrists and run a mile from the subject.

Rose, should be given the Nobel peace prize for her name alone. But she has done so much more.

The freedom we enjoy each day is a silent thank you. Yet it is unfortunate that it is silent on 364 days a year. The soldiers out there might understand casualties incurred if they felt they had the right tools to do their jobs and not just be part of an exercise in root cause analysis. Even then only after Rose forced enquiries through her determination and selfless love of her son.

It is too easy to get caught up in the events that frustrate and blame "just in time" systems and so on. This doesn't bring back Rose's petal Gordon.

We need to focus on ideas that inspire; not those that divide. I hope that we can all be inspired and united to get the troops out of Afghanistan and Iraq and back home. I don’t believe they should have been there in the first place.

2007-11-13T09:37:00.000+01:00

November 13th:
Strange Occurence in Burnside Road

As I was leaving the work car park at half past seven to walk to the office I had a brief encounter.

I've taken on a short term contract on the other side of town to keep income flowing what with xmas and all and it's a short walk from the car park to the main building and as I was crossing the road in a safety conscious manner a strange occurrence took place.

It’s freezing right. This black guy about seven foot tall (I kid you not) walked alongside of me and sang to me about how I was pure, good and kind. It was really bizarre! He had a fantastic voice. Not a word was exchanged between us. I just listened. You could describe it as the voice of an angle if it wasn’t so spooky. He was feeling the cold because he had a tweed jacket and a Tammy (Scottish headgear) on. He sang for about a minute then walked off down the road with his breath making clouds of steam as he went and he disappeared into it in a Mathew Kelly stars in their eyes type of way. I felt like an X-Factor judge. But he was really good. No critique required. Why did he do that? Was he taking the piss? I don’t know.

I then walked into the building and got in the lift and some clown wouldn’t keep the door open for others who were trying to get in and I had to intervene. So I saw ying and yang in about two minutes. Good and bad. Black and white. Thoughtful and inconsiderate.

Life is really strange sometimes. But I know that I want to be pure, good and kind.

2007-10-28T10:24:00.000+01:00

October 28th: Tenerife

So, back from the mid-October pre-winter sun. What a difference having the sun on your back makes. Sets you up for some sideways rain in "Bonnie" Scotland so it does.

The break was good though. Time to reflect and all that. I'm 42, drink too much beer, need to lose a couple of stone and have a Pat Nevin hairdo! How did I get to this stage? Methinks I've been resting in a comfort zone for far too long.

Well, the career development forum certainly has helped shape the new Wattie mindset for the next while cause I've jumped ship. Taken a package and fox trotted off into the sunset to see if I can gee myself up again (work wise that is as everything else is fine and good).

Now, I'm nae complaining. A lot of good people get stale at work and leave with nothing or are forced out. I had a happy accident which gave me a chance so I've taken it. It's scary but exciting at the same time. Can I cut the mustard anymore? Time will tell (and my blog will record it).

Right now though I'm nae half missing that Tenerife sunset from my balcony!

2007-10-16T08:39:00.000+02:00

October 16th:
Chrissie Duncan

I can clear massive hurdles
Since you delivered me into the light
Silent darkness gone forever
Pure love shining bright

I gladly placed my trust in you
Banished bad thoughts behind
I know that you'll always look out for me
Your perfect picture fills my mind

There's no point in feeling lost or lonely
No room for emptiness in my heart
Your simplistic beauty makes me act stronger
We are together, we will never be apart

I everlastingly hold you close my angel
If I could only once whisper in your ear
Tell you that you've never left me
When I close my eyes I know you're near

And when the moment comes that I need you
I'll call your name when the time is right
Help me cross the final hurdle
So our stars will eternally burn bright

2007-10-14T11:45:00.000+02:00

October 14th: Can You Feel it?

Well can you? I can. I can almost taste the joy of getting through this group. I felt really worried yesterday before the game. I didn't feel the same as I did before the France game. Probably because there was expectation surrounding everything yesterday. That's the Scottish mental barriers to progress needing chapped doon again or maybe it's me that needs reprogrammed and reconditioned to believe and have confidence.

The team were tremendous. The Ukrainian guys were excellent football players. So what was the difference? Desire? It certainly wisnae just ability that won it for us(although if McFadden had one extra yards pace he'd be playing for Barcelona or Real Madrid).

Naw it was guts and a bit of belief. I want to subscribe to some of that.

Magic and passion, soul and vision. These boys have it.

2007-10-08T11:01:00.000+02:00

October 8th:
Dark Nichts

The nights are fairly drawing in eh! What a common statement that is up here in the North East corner. But it's true. Later on this month we turn the clocks back to eek out that extra hours light, but I love this time of year. The leaves are tumbling from the trees, the game on a Saturday (usually) starts in sunshine but ends under the floodlights with the Dons humping all before them - aye right!

It's heartwarming. Bright lights tinkling in the dark offering hope of better days to come once we get through the winter before us. Xmas trips tae the capital city to remember our history at the castle and the fun of it makes me feel kind of optimistic that the future is there for us. We just have to make it happen.

2007-10-01T23:27:00.000+02:00

October 1st: Nessie's nae deid

Wonder if this will make the P&J or the Scotsman even! I took the photo myself just by Urquhart Castle - the papers at the weekend reckoned she's deid cause there have only been two reported sightings in the last year. Well rack up a third.

She was a huge green thing, with a richt hump oan her back and I swear she had a tartan scarf and tammy. It is cauld in October tae be fair. Maybe I was having flashbacks tae Paris, I'm nae richt sure. But I dae believe ye ken.

Ah shat ma pants so I did.

2007-09-29T10:58:00.000+02:00

September 29th: Gretna

Going to see the Redz hammer the anvil at Mecca today. Been a strange week. Saw old family friend Willie Miller's funeral (there's actually more than just the one).

Sad but the way life is. A good East Kilbride booze up was held thereafter. Scottish culture. Excellent send off for Willie.

So Gretna, a place which has an importance in this Minks life. My Ma (Chrissie Watt MacLaughlin McSloy Duncan) died in 1995. She was still relatively young. Before that she had health scares. So she and Wattie senior (the rebel soul) went off to Gretna and got hitched without anyone even knowing (we always thought they were married - but no they were not). They had never done the deed despite being together at that point and having kids as far back as the mid fifties! There was something about what they did that I thought cool.

Family skeletons in the cupboard methinks - but it does explain one thing - why I can be a right bastard. Excellent.

Anyway - Gretna must be hammered this afternoon or questions about what's in the Pittodrie cupboard will be asked by all Dons fans.

C'mon ye Redzzzzzzzz

2007-09-26T09:47:00.000+02:00

September 26th: Prisoner
This sentence, transforms light into shadow.
No future just the same as the past,
Killing the present and removing every hope.

Is it just me? Or from where I came?
And are you any better or worse, in the end?
Is it really to you all a game?

Trample, crush, squeeze me to death,
With false promise of hope
tailing off to despair.

Stick a matress against the wall
I'll throw myself at it
Rebound, and continue on....

2007-09-24T09:56:00.000+02:00

September 24th: Popartglory is 6 today

Everywhere I go,
It doesn't seem to show,
That this faith I have in you,
Gets stronger.

Strangers talk in trains,
About kids injecting their veins,
But what practical difference,
Does this make?

Class culture strains,
Our politics and their aims,
Destroying our imagination

Gender, class and race underlining our conviction,
shouting out truthful expression.

I can see into your eyes, and they're tired,
Your sensual smile surrounds me, you're in everything I know
I need to get inside your head, feed my mind on your soul.

This is not some game, where real life feeling
Gets lost in some hyped-up, hyped-up name,
Make democratic art through aesthetic, aesthetic
Aesthetic and political interaction.

Raised consciousness brings gain,
Blissful ignorance stores pain
Strengthening solidarity hastens change,
Resolve ourselves, reflect in natural, natural glory

I can see into your eyes, and they're tired,
Your sensual smile surrounds me, you're in everything I know
I need to get inside your head, feed my mind on your soul.

2007-09-21T10:00:00.000+02:00

September 21st: Dig Yourself Deep
Recieved an e-mail from my chum John O'Neill this week. He said " we have actually got around to making a new record which is out on Cooking Vinyl the middle of next month. 14 songs clocking in at 31 mins! Punk rock!"

They are happy with it and that will do for me as they are quality. They play Glasgow Garage on 18th Oct and Liquid Rooms Edinburgh 8th Nov. John's son is starting Uni in Edinburgh at the end of the month. Bloody hell, time is passing so quick once again.

Looks like I am going to have some good music to keep me going over the autumn and winter months. Magic darts.

Go see them and buy this album, you know it makes sense.

2007-09-18T16:09:00.000+02:00

September 18th: France

Zoot Allors, jings crivens help ma bob! Unlike most on the ball bloggers I am well late with this post due to a lot of strange but weirdly scary and exciting happenings to me Wattie D of late....more on those later.

Paris will simply stay in my memory forever. It was magic. From first till last the whole thing was a blast. 6:45 am fly to London - 10:30 fly to Paris with a plane full of Springbok rugby fans all over to see their team gub England (and we think we are dedicated).

Beer was dear in the French bars (about £7 a pint) cheaper at the auld alliance pub (4 Euros a time)the weather was great, the girls very pretty, the locals very good natured and friendly and the result fucking fantastic.

Oh and I told the dude fae Travis there was no way he was getting on the next Jasmines Album.

C'mon Scotland.

2007-09-10T12:23:00.000+02:00

September 11th: Love Lives Here - An open letter to All

Dear All,

Where were you on Tuesday the 11th September 2001?

I was sick and couldn't drag myself out of bed that day. It lasted until the Friday. It was one of those nasty doses of flu. It was gastric and I was either sat on the pan trying to push the waste out of my system or rolling about in bed shivering, drenched in alternate hot and cold sweats. In between I thought I was hallucinating as I watched on the portable TV the events as they unfolded in America. I thought I was trapped in some nightmare that I couldn't get out of. What happened was unthinkable evil beyond comprehension. I felt ashamed to be ill and about feeling sorry for myself. I kept on wondering, do I believe in God?

If I did, I asked myself where the fuck was he that day? How could he let such a thing happen? Then it came to me that if he did exist he wasn't in New York City that day. He was out of town. He must have been looking in on events like all the rest of us because he is all seeing right?

Left to my own devices, I had to try and work out for myself via CNN and Sky why such a dreadful fate had come to pass on the people on the planes, in the buildings and on the ground. I wanted to bury my head under the duvet. So, I did, it became my personal and private sepulcher of continental quilt.

Entombed, I considered faith versus fanaticism. Christianity versus Islam. Decadent western society versus unadulterated scriptures and prophetic traditions. Who had what view of whom? Who was right and who was wrong? I couldn't come up with any answers. All these years further down the line, I still can't.

Apart from those that hijacked the planes, the people who died and were injured were innocent folks of different nationalities and different faiths. So it can't have been a religious thing no matter who tries to dress it up and whatever fit they try to put on it. People who are true to the Islamic faith are not evil and it was pure evil that made this happen. The dead don't care, they only wanted to live and it was their right to live. They were murdered and evil bastards carried it out. It wasn't done by a group with God on their side. It was proven to me that day that he surely doesn't exist but the weirdness of it all though is that in moments of despair, darkness, depression and most probably desperation I still talk to him in my head.

Stalin was an atheist and Pol Pot abolished religion but both of these fuckers were responsible for the deaths of many millions of innocents. No, this was not about religion that's an easy out; it was about good versus evil.

I had hoped that America and the rest of their allies would take stock and gather real evidence before lashing out. Don't get me wrong, something had to be done for the sake of the murdered and their families but they had to punish those that deserve to be punished. However, it seems to me the USA and her allies have gone for an eye for an eye with so many innocents in Iraq and Afghanistan being wiped out that the danger really is we are all most likely going to end up blind. Are you an optician God? It's Tuesday 11th September again in 2007, can you make it any better?

People will probably be pissed off at me and say, God does exist, look at the miracle escape stories that came from the events of the 11th September such as those who got out from Stairwell B and that this could only have been by God's good grace. They will say he allowed it to happen for reasons we can't understand. Others will say that he doesn't intervene because we have to undertake within our hearts to do his good will. Aye right!

I'm sorry but I find that type of view hard to reconcile. How can I spend any faith I have left in you? It seems to be one bad thing after another.

I’m left thinking that we take destiny in our own hands and have a choice about whether we do good or bad. It's about spiritual issues within our own hearts. We live in a catastrophic world where life is cheap for many and priceless for others. An imbalance like this will always cause hatred and leave a divide that allows evil to thrive

So c’mon big yin, tell me, what's in your heart? Because love lives here in mine.

Wattie.

2007-09-10T10:33:00.000+02:00

September 10th:
Career Development Forum

This afternoon around 2:45, I have to sit in a room with my boss and the HR manager to receive feedback from the companies career development forum.

Cannae wait! Well, I can actually but there you go.

I am 42 years old, have a family to keep, a mortgage to pay and act as a hunter gatherer who ensures provision for three square meals a day on the table and in order to do so I have to earn a crust. Mrs. Mink does her bit too, I am not complaining here, just stating the bloody obvious.

The last thing I need in terms of work is feedback on my potential. But organisations do that don't they. Estimate your potential. How can you really do that when every individual has the ability to be unique and be so dynamically different to the next person? It baffles me. I don't know what to expect so I am going in expecting nothing. I have a feeling I won't be disappointed that way.

I went to one a while back and the guy said to me, "where do you see yourself in five years time" to which I replied "in your shoes". He wasnae happy. He said "well it's dead man's shoes, you might have to wait longer". That gave the game away for me. Flushed their bovine excreta right out so it did.

Truth is though, back in my days of youth I was interested in Career Development of a different kind. The year was 1986, Alan McGee took me to UCL in London to watch Felt. They were very good. He was developing us Jasmines and he was planning a trip to Scandinavia for the Minks along with Felt. Alan for all the stick he gets from various quarters does know what he's doing.

That night he introduced me to Edwyn Collins. He's a giant of a man. He shook my hand and said "awright mate" and that was it. Tell you what though, that was enough. He's ace. Given the health issues Edwyn has had, it's testament to the man that he's done a new batch of work.

It strikes me that with the release of his new album "Home Again" out next week on Heavenly, he's had his own wee Career Development Forum and gone for it. I can't wait to buy a copy and hear what's what. It might be an estimate of his potential but only for this moment in time as he continually develops new potential and fulfills it time and time again. I hope he never stops.

2007-09-09T14:53:00.000+02:00

September 9th: Here we go, here we go, here we go

Tickets confirmed for Wednesday, flights booked, all we need is a good result in Paris and I'll be a very happy minker.

c'mon Scotland.

2007-09-06T10:01:00.000+02:00

September 6th: Tell God I'm Here

One of the things in life that I never seem able to rectify is my ability to stop being a twat from time to time. I'm always saying to myself "Oh God, shouldnae have done/said that."

As the years pass by I find it really hard to be "sociable" or "fit in". I have wrote before about feeling I'm a mis-fit. The edges blur for me and there is no distinct compass point or map reference I can move towards where I ever feel that I am 'engaging' or 'interactive'. It could be the drink which I use as a shield of confidence. I veer off at tangents where I am definitely trying too hard or where I come across as a bit of a pain unable to hold a reasonable conversation. That's me, Wattie D, a mean young mother!

My sincerity may often be construed by others as blowing smoke up their arses but that is never my intent. I am sincere on that. If I like something I tend to go over the top about it or I really rail against it. As I get older I should allow myself to become more reasonable but it never seems to happen.

Years ago, Jeff Barratt head honcho at Heavenly Records played me a vhs video of Hurrah! They were excellent. You have to remember back in the day Hurrah were seen as something else from what they became. They attempted to cross over from this brilliant, fresh and full of youth early Kitchenware band to become stadium rockers with leather biker jackets and the "Tell God I'm Here" album which ultimately bagged them a Wembley support slot with U2 in the process.

They didn't break through to mainstream though. I'm nae sure why. I was obsessed by that album. Martin our bass player bought me it for my birthday because I wouldn't shut up about them.

When the Jasmines soundchecked I would often play "Sweet Sanity" to get my guitar set-up right. It was/is a genius riff and was my little nod of respect to them!

A lot of folk didn't get their attempt to move ahead. I loved them for going for it. We played with Hurrah! a few times. We used to share a few beers after the gigs with them and I was always intrigued by the raw energy Paul and Taffy displayed when playing their guitars. I also believe they wrote magic songs. Anyway, it never happened for them in the way they might have hoped. Towards the end, I watched them play in Aberdeen at the "Venue" where they petulantly played to a small crowd walking off after about three songs nae happy.

Invited backstage (along with most of the crowd I have to say, about twenty people) I told them I thought they were a disgrace for not playing a full set to the folks who had made an effort on their behalf. It didn't go down well but as I said I find it hard to be "sociable" or to "fit in". I'm sure it's not what they wanted to hear. Oh well, c'est la vie. If it had been 400 people I might have thought it was rock n'roll but as it was it just came across as naff and a slap in the face to those who believed in their magic.

They were a great band however and deserved better than they got. So did a lot of other bands. Such is life unfortunately. Perhaps somebody needed God to tell them that Hurrah! were there and were good. I don't think he was listening though.

Here's the video for Sweet Sanity.

2007-09-04T12:11:00.000+02:00

September 4th: Jane Tomlinson

Jane Tomilnson was diagnosed a while back with an incurable form of cancer. She didn't give up, instead she went for it with the time she had left. She ran races, was a triathlete and raised loads of cash for worthwhile causes raising their awareness at the same time.

I am a moaning so and so at times.

When training a few years ago, I was whinging away, lacking motivation and feeling devoid of any will power and with no real desire to do anything about it. My mate Calum cut out a picture of her and pinned it on the wall beside my desk. He never said a thing but I got the message, went away and did something about it and felt better for doing so.

Then weirdly just this morning I looked at myself in the mirror and asked myself why had I got so fat? I then subsequently read the news feeds about Jane and thought that it's time for me to buy a new pair of running shoes and again shut the fuck up and get my finger out.

I ran the great north run when she was in the same field. She was a quality human being, a daughter, a wife, a mother and an inspiration.

2007-09-03T12:14:00.000+02:00

September 3rd: Scolty

The Newtonhill Minks were having a wee holiday break at our static in Feughside over the weekend and our attempts to keep young, agile, fit and healthy meant we took the dog and the bairn up Scolty hill near Banchory.

The wee one moaned all the way up and then said "it's nae bad actually" after she ascended the 299m overlooking bonnie Deeside whilst drinking her juice and scoffing the scran. The heather is in full bloom just now and was simply affa nice.

2007-08-30T12:25:00.000+02:00

August 30th: Tattie Salad Anybody?

Bizarre but strangely watchable? I don't much care for tattie salad however. Is it potatoes or po-tat-ohs?

2007-08-28T09:14:00.000+02:00

August 28th:
Getting my Hackles Up

The wife and I watched Gregory Burke's play "Black Watch" on the TV last night and it was literally, bloody brilliant. If you ever get a chance to see it, go.

An excellent cast portray the story of Scots Soldiers and life for them linked to a "Golden Thread" of past, present and future. It's nae new having been on the go for a bit but it's vital and it was great to see it make National TV.

Visually, it's theatre-in-the-round with the audience either side of the hall making use of very clever and minimal scenery.

I loved the sense of camaraderie that shone through, the futility, the history (usually of the Scots being duped and shat upon by our so called betters), the dialog, and the obvious attempt to portray and remain on the ball as regards reality.

The climax was emotional making you hold your breath and you could sense what was going to happen yet it had no distinct ending as such. Like the three soldiers blown up, you were left hanging in suspension. Thought provoking, I certainly couldn't sleep for a while thinking over it all. So much so, I went and checked out the black watch website.

On it they have obituaries for two recent soldiers. They were only twenty. What a waste. Their names were Jamie Kerr and Scott Kennedy. I wonder if Blair or Bush know their names? I'm glad I do. It reaffirms my belief that we really should pull our troops out of Iraq as soon as possible. They should never have been there in the first place. I feel heart sorry for their families and those left behind fucked up by it all.

It really gets my hackles up.

2007-08-24T12:35:00.000+02:00

August 24th: Valerie Rosner

I don't care what you say to me
It really doesn't mean a thing
I've seen your face on my TV
And heard the different songs you sing

I'm sick and tired of all your lies
The false promises they bring
What will it take to get through to you
The souls of how many mortal men?

Here's to you, Valerie Rosner,
I remember you, Valerie Rosner.

While Dick Cheney cries, fingering Georgie's Pie,
Blair n' Brown roll in their pens,
And we watch the world spin by whilst others die
How can their means justify the end?

Here's to you, Valerie Rosner,
I remember you, Valerie Rosner.

Zoot Sounds around, words written down,
Smiths memories will never fade,
Long telephone calls, hauling down those walls
You were never ever afraid.

Here's to you, Valerie Rosner,
I remember you, Valerie Rosner,

You put us all to shame.

2007-08-22T14:55:00.000+02:00

August 22nd:
Place Memory Here

Today was my wee bairns second day at secondary school. The thing is she isn't wee anymore. I still remember very well her first day at primary and the first day at nursery prior to that.

Time as I have often said is my enemy. Never enough or too much of her.

My wife and I exchanged a look between us both as our daughter was making herself ready for the school bus in front of the mirror. It needed no explanation. It was a look of shared pride in saying "we made her, isn't she just magic".

And she is. That's why I invest in the memory and place it there.

I read a blog by somebody I know, usually admire and have worked with previously and in it he said that he never looks back, only forward. Fair enough but it strikes me as a bit clichéd. Another pal has also previously said "you've gotta go back to go forwards."

Polemics? Clichés? Who cares. As long as it's real, it's cool and I believe him. Work, Art, Love & Life. Been there, seen it, got the t-shirt and I muddle through it working my weird. That is REAL.

Blogs are ace. One I came across the other day was by a chap called Colin and it is very good. It's called and before the first kiss. He doesn't like my sort though, he thinks I'm a wanker cause I've got a private number plate on my car. That's not very tolerant is it and a real generalisation. It's also funny. Anyway, I don't need to defend myself to anybody, Colin says he's in education and it seems alongside him is another old associate of mine who's just started a postgrad at his place of learning. You might know him, he's got previous. Here's an example.

2007-08-20T13:53:00.000+02:00

August 20th: Summers Gone

So that's another years hols bit the dust. A wee break in October sounds good though. It's funny how I seem to always look forward to my next one all the time. New York is a busy busy place that's probably why.

So full of contradictions it's clean, dirty, exciting, alienating, disgusting, beautiful and it will certainly leave an imprint in my minds eye for a while to come.

The hotel room was on the 41st floor, right off times square and when I looked out the window I had a panoramic view of everything.

Will publish some pics soon I think, probably I should open a flicker account or something.

Highlights were BB King's blues bar and seeing the Harlem Gospel Choir do their thing (praise the lord, oh yeah). These folks were members of the choir from U2's rattle and hum period and they were very good. Harlem was great, I loved seeing the Apollo where James Brown lay in state at the scene of where he did his thing. The Dakota was interesting, basically because it's nothing of note really and it's such a shame that a guy as talented as Lennon ended his days there due to some mad bastard. But I was there to see it for myself and pay respect so that's what matters. Also got to watch Maxi Priest sound check which was really good too and saw some street kids doing their hip hop which was magic for an old fart like me to see.

Watched a couple of Broadway shows. Loved Chicago, really well done, so it was. And of course we did all the touristy things. Got a couple of bargain ipods as well so it was all good. The Statue of Liberty was strangely disappointing however. I wonder if it's cause I question just who's liberty does it represent?

Couldn't let this post pass without mention to the King as well. 30 years since he died and I remember hearing it on the news as clear as if it were yesterday (God I sound like my parents). I have a number plate on my car which has 77 for various reasons. The year we got the victory and the crossbar fae Wembley, the year Elvis died, the number of my bairns and wifes birthday and the hoose. It'll never win me the lottery but it's important to me for all those reasons none the less.

I've been to his house in Memphis you know, Elvis that is. Paid homage to the greats there once, Presley, Cash, Sun Studios et all. Enjoyed seeing the best Elvis impersonator ever aka Joe Kent (pictured) at the rock n' roll cafe straight across the road from the pelvis's hoose. He was magic and I've got the pictures and videos tae prove it. You know the seven degrees of separation thing…there might be some truth in it you know. Seems old pal McGee's chums with his daughter now. I wonder if she's got any old Jasmine Minks records?

2007-07-21T11:51:00.000+02:00

July 21st: I wanna be a part of it

Les Minks head off today to the city that never sleeps. Looking forward to it all. Seeing where John met Mark and anything else that goes.

Might also see where the APB boys played with James Brown and where CBGB's was/is?

Check out APB performing the post punk classic 'Shoot you down' in 1986. Location - the Ritz in Manhattan, NYC. Glen, Ian, George and Mikey Craigheid funkin oot. Nae bad for loons fae Aberdeen and Ellon like!

2007-07-18T10:22:00.000+02:00

July 18th: Stress

Headache, tense, nervous, headache
Headache, tense, nervous, headache

Am I adaptive or maladaptive?

Headache, tense, nervous, headache
Adaptive or maladaptive?

Daddy! Daddy!
Don't worry I'll be okay

Am I adaptive or maladaptive?
I guess I'll never know

The causes and symptoms of my stress
Are directly related to my thinking skills
My brain stimulates a hormonal change
Stimulating adrenaline and noradrenaline

This is really kinda funny cause
I thought the way to make a whore moan
Was to smack her in the face

Am I adaptive or maladaptive?
Daddy! Daddy!
Am I adaptive or maladaptive?
Don't worry I'll be okay

My muscles are tense ready for action
Whilst the pupils of my eyes dilate
My heartbeats gone faster
Trying to feed my body
Before the blood pressure gets too great

Too late, I need more air
I can't afford to breathe slow
I'm pishing sweat, expending energy
My immune systems a no go

Headache
Am I adaptive or maladaptive?
Tense
Daddy!
Nervous
Don't worry I'll be okay
Headache
.
.
.
.
.
.
Emotional withdrawl from those that I love.

2007-07-11T08:31:00.000+02:00

July 11th: Galik Bred tastes jist fine min?
Originally formed for a single fund-raising event, GALIK BRED
have become one of the biggest names in the North East of Scotland music scene. Indeed they have been crowned World Ceilidh Band Champions sponsored by the Big Yin Billy Connelly himself in the past. Last weekend saw them play the Ceilidh Tent at T in the Park, Scotlands biggest music event of the year.
Featuring occasional Jasmine Mink, Simmo Simpson on bass and the solo Piper from the Rebel Soul's big event, Grant Robbie, who turns his hands to Drums, Bohdran, Pipes, and making loads of other noises, Galik Bred are collectively and individually very talented, creative, fun, hip, traditional and current!
The crowd certainly agree,
whilst Simmo thumps the bass as only he can
and afterwards a well earned scoof is enjoyed by the workers. Scottish kwality is added to this wonderful pic by some radge concked out next to them, just reaffirming that if ye booze ye loose - aye right! It can't have been the music, he must have had a hole in his tent!

I love this country.

2007-07-10T09:16:00.000+02:00

July 10th: Vive la difference

La tour de france has been really good to watch so far even this early into the event. The massive crowds in England and the attacking early stages have made great viewing. I first got in to it during the heady days when it was on channel 4 with Phil Ligget being able to effortlessly put across what it must be like to have kittens whilst watching a race involving a heap of brightly coloured blokes on bikes.

Over in France in the late 80's early 90's I would buzz from town to town during July with my stock Del Boy French phrases al a "qui a gagner dans la tour monsieur et deux bières whilst your at it pal"!

I think this year could be the year that a similar excitement of years gone by returns for me.

I ended up totally disengaged with the sport after a while due in part to all the crap around doping scandals etc. However, given we have a contrite David Millar doing a great shift (allegedly dope free) and some other cracking riders, it's shaping up to be superb. I'm particularly looking forwards to the Mountains, but the Aberdeen Minks will be in New York so it might be challenging getting to see it. However, the Discovery Team might ensure it gets some coverage.

Back in the days of the Minks French phase we used to love all the gear. We even had bellies that didn't look to obscene when we wore cycling tops from time to time. Mine was always the Peugeot vest. Hero's of another age aka Simpson, Roche, Anderson and Robert Millar all wore this vest so it was important to me. Who ever designed it deserves a medal it's so simplistically bonnie. But the good thing about it all is that everybody's tastes are different. Vive la difference!

2007-07-07T18:37:00.000+02:00

July 7th: I'm On My Way

Pure Genius Moves! This puts Take That & Robbie Pudding Williams tae shame! I'll be daein a bit of this routine doon the pub the nicht! Happy 070707.

2007-07-04T09:31:00.000+02:00

July 4th: Obree
Over the years there has been an abundance of true Scottish cycling hero's. From away back in the days of Billy Bisland and Sandy Gilchrist through to Robert Millar getting his spotty tee shirt in the Tour, good solid cyclists keep on appearing whether on the road or on the track. Chris Hoy is a present day example.

If we could only churn out others it would be so fitting to the achievements and legacy of those that have gone before.

Graeme Obree is something else. I watched the Flying Scotsman last night at the local cinema. When I first read Obree's book of the same name a few years ago, I was taken aback by just how extraordinary his achievements were and about how for having problems such as his (bi-polar disorder and depression) he beat the odds and made history.

I loved the part of the film where every time the suits worked against him the anger, angst and despair that Obree felt caroms around in his heid until he re-engineered the solutions that release his pressure like only a trepan might do and like a true hero he gets back on the saddle and sticks it right up em! Very good indeed.

This film had battles to contend with itself to get aired but at last it's here. It's pretty good as well. Johnny Lee Miller does a good job as Obree and does the role justice. It's not high budget but like Graeme and his "do it yer self attitude" this film does not suffer from a lack of money being chucked at it, in a way it makes it all the more special, a bit like his "old faithful" bike itself. The assorted River City cast alongside other good Scottish actors make it interesting to the eye. It's worth watching.

My older brother raced against these guys back in the day and he tells a story of the time he almost gubbed Obree. He was on his shoulder and shouted at him into the wind in an attempt to throw his concentration, get on his wheel and take him in the sprint to the finish. However, it didn't happen. He really was "The Flying Scotsman".

2007-07-02T09:41:00.000+02:00

July 2nd: Mother Nature

Eating Doughnuts
And drinking coffee
On a corner, near Bloor and Spidina,
I was moved by an old black woman of Canada.

Underneath a sign that said, Honest Ed's,
She smiled at me her hand outstretched,
Face full of recognition as she begged.

Over this short distance
Our eyes somehow met
And I was filled with shame and regret,
For at that moment, we both new, our spirits, were,
DEAD.

Mother Nature, you're letting your sons and daughters down
Mother Nature stand up, show your proud.

2007-06-29T09:55:00.000+02:00

June 29th:
Steamboats McMillan

Hugh "Shug" McMillan and I go back a while but have not been in touch for even longer.

That's not important though.

I have memories of the time I tried to assassinate him at a péage in Northern France or even when a lifetime ago, the two of us minced our way around the bars of Dumfries on a sunny Saturday afternoon, getting more and more pished and jabbering away with the usual shite that passed as banter between the two of us before fleecing the local bookie beside the New Bazaar and necking numerous pints of Old Jock.

Ahh, Maroof, 66-1, a real long shot, fit for the knackers yard before thon race was even off.

"Fancy a wee bet then Wattie" said Shug. "Aye" said I.

I put a couple of quid on the nose for Maroof to walk it. Shug wasn’t so sure but he felt my confidence flowing and slapped fifty pence on as a backup precaution to his cash on the favourite. Then with seconds to spare we leaned back against the wall to watch the race. She had to win as we didn’t have that much money left to pay for more beer. It didn’t start too well however, with Maroof slipping immediately to the back, I felt resigned to her ending up as a pot of glue for some airfix model, when suddenly, she started to come good.

Something within her must have said "fuck youse, ye load a donkeys, I’m Maroof, I used tae be somethin" because she went from a canter to maximum gallop on the final bend and won by a neck. We got some funny looks from the other punters but that was probably due to the fact we were jumping up and down, slapping each other on the back, shaking hands, hugging and generally finding it hard to contain our shrieks of delight.

Later, after many more pints, we sat opposite Rabbie Burns mausoleum, where we chanted pished poetry and tried to entice the great man to rise from the dead and share a tin of McEwen’s with us, but Rabbie thought better of it and left us ba-heids to get on with it. It ended up with a pogo to the Damned in Brooms Road, followed by a casual puke in the toilet, whilst some plastic posers talked about poetry and the importance of being a poet and ate their nibbles. Oh ma heid!

Check Shug’s work out, this man’s poetry is about him and what he encounters, he sees it and feels it and through his work conveys it, unlike the sad fuckers at that party who were stuck too far up their own arses to see daylight.

His new book of poems entitled "Strange Bamboo" is out now. Buy his book.

You all deserve it.

Strange Bamboo
ISBN-13 978 1 904886 51 8
£8.95 from Shoestring Press

2007-06-28T08:47:00.000+02:00

June 28th: True Don Moves On

So it's the end of an era for Russell Anderson and Aberdeen FC with him completing a £1m move to the English Premiership with Sunderland. Given the current market, Sunderland have got a bargain! I remember a few years ago taking my wee girl to a reserve game at Pittodrie (it was Aberdeen v Celtic).

Anyway, they had a kind of open night at the game and Ailsa and I queued up (she was about 5 at the time) to get a huge foam hand signed by the players who were sitting there (this was the mid-week after a seven nil humping from Celtic at Parkheid the previous Saturday) and Russell signed it for her. It's still in the house somewhere.

Anyway, you could see the guy was embarrassed to be sat there and it must have been hard to do given the hurt such a good professional player must have felt having to endure smart arse comments such as "nae such a good result at the weekend eh" to which he responded "aye, it was terrible" and then I retorted "too right it was I had to sit and watch it", it needed to be said just to vent my spleen and he got a red face to match the colour of the teams kit and looked at his feet, but the point is he took it on the chin and over time moved his game up to a better level after that watershed of a result and left the Dons with his head held high having captained them back into Europe.

He donated his slice of the transfer fee back into youth development at the club. That's a top gesture from a person who is very obviously level headed and can see the bigger picture. I hope he does well down South and that Sunderland stay up. I do wonder if his Scotland chances will improve now he's left what is according to the Daily Ranger a "provincial" club. For those in a different country read Ranger as Record, a down beat tabloid newspaper that is biased towards the West of Scotland population. The context of "provincial" leaves no doubt they class us as peasants.

Aye right, Aberdeen still remain the only Scottish team to win two European trophies. Provincial my arse!

Good luck Russell, get right intae them!

2007-06-26T10:30:00.000+02:00

June 26th: TTT

A good man tried to shoot me,
Towards the premier league of life,
Yet somehow I got deflected, lord,
I ended up in strife.

Now I've cried ten thousand tears,
Over what seems like such wasted years,
But I'll cry for you no more,
My friend, again.

I swear sometimes, I've lost the plot,
Over every fool who's tried to hurt me,
My arms ache, my feet get tired,
I want to lay right on down.

But I wasn't born to let time pass me by,
I know, I'll get there, if I try,
And I'll cry for you no more,
My friend, again.

Still, inside my head,
A million things left unsaid,
These words not spoken,
No promise broken.

Ten thousand tears, Ten thousand tears,
Ten thousand tears, Ten thousand tears,
Ten thousand tears................................

2007-06-20T11:47:00.000+02:00

June 20th: Flaming June - Seasonal Adjustment Disorder

Heard it, heard it, heard it, usual jokers around here giving it why the long face, it's nae SAD syndrome he's got he's ayeways that flippin miserable...yeah...yeah.

Have to say though the weather here in Sconnie Botland is very depressing at the moment. The above graphic shows the general forcast around where this Mink resides for the next 5 days or so. Ain't no sunshine anymore! Flaming June? Fuck sake's min! Looks like I'll get the shorts and shades on for Saturday and that will be summer almost gone.

2007-06-14T10:05:00.000+02:00

June 14th: Izzy-wizzy-let's-get-busy

Once upon a time I worked in a matrix style organisation with three middle managers, two blokes and a woman (at least I think it was female, the hairy lip and over emphasised "look at me I'm gallus" weegie accent confused me somewhat). They all reported into the one boss above them.

They used to make me sick. They worked against themselves whilst doing other good people down all the time in order to protect their own arse or satiate their individual agenda's, greed and selfishness. Each would do anything to try and sneak a yard on the other. Throwing out rumours, half-truths and blocking the progress that other decent, genuine and ambitious people were trying to achieve in order to make a difference.

We called them Sooty, Sweep and Soo (Sue?). As is the way of these things the sorcerer had an apprentice and we called him Scampi. Each ultimately wanted the top banana's job and would stop at nothing to get it but the problem was it was dead man's shoes syndrome. They were and still are in my opinion sad individuals and I hope that they each get out of their careers exactly what they deserve.

There is nothing wrong with ambition. It's how you go about it in order to achieve it that makes the difference. Of course I am a naive idiot at times but at my age I have resigned myself to the fact that it's a part of my design that I have NO desire to change because whilst I retain that trait I still harbour hope that things can and will change for the greater good. Is that what makes me a leftie with socialist tendencies? I'm nae sure but it might just be what makes me easy to manipulate.

Anyway, the whole Blair, Salmond saga whilst entertaining and encouraging due to the fact that the SNP don't seem to want to take any shit is in danger of becoming a real side show to progress even this early in the day.

Salmond has made his point and I hope he continues to do so. However, it must not be a blocker to progress in Scotland. This has to be the main priority. Blair admitted this week he put too much emphasis on spin when he first got into power. I hope Brown when he gets his feet under the table doesn't mess about with us, his own race. He's a unionist. Fair enough. A lot of us aren't. Live and let live.

Let's hope though that he's savvy enough to realise that he needs to work with his own kind to give them what they want, which is a referendum on our future and if the case requires it the ability to fulfill our ambition. A democratic vote went in favour of policies that support self determination. It was close but it still went that way, despite the spoiled votes debacle. Let us find out if there really is a will to make it happen. I have my doubts however.

I hope it doesn't end up like Sooty, with Brown being the cute English hand puppet. Sooty never actually said anything. He's mute. The phrase "Izzy-wizzy-let's-get-busy" is a precursor to Sooty waving his magic wand. Sooty was accompanied by Sweep, a little grey dog who could only squeak which makes me think of his New Labour enforcers barking for some reason, and Soo well she's Harriet Harman or even Kirsty Wark ain't she?

As for Scampi he's the heinz 57, the result of the rest of the lot of them after a wild orgy of being allowed to do what they want without being taken to task for too long. Makes you wonder what the future holds when he grows up!

I just hope that Alex Salmond and Scotland don't end up like Mr. Corbett who can't keep control of what the hands are doing resulting in him always ending up with something squirted in his face.

2007-06-06T12:12:00.000+02:00

June 6th: Spitting in the Soup

I was at the local Waterstones feeding my habit yesterday and bought the new Robert Millar book by Richard Moore. In my opinion he was a truly great Scottish Sportsman who never got the recognition he deserved way back in the 80's. He should not be confused with David Millar the Scottish arsehole who was banned for doping to enhance his performance.

He remains to this day a bit of an enigma and I look forward to reading this book about him to try to understand more. I do wish Robert Millar would write his own book though as a great many people would like to hear what he says for himself.

I have yet to start it but I am already worried that his reputation might be questioned. I remember him as being a great inspiration in general (I am not a cyclist). I hope my worries are unfounded. I will report back on that.

There is a massive problem in pro cycling. They have this "old omerta" thing going on with stock phrases about whistleblowers not “spitting in the soup” or as we Scots might more aptly say "nae shittin on yer own doorstep".

Many sports books are written to celebrate the glory of winning and achievement and I hope the Millar book is one of these and that he was kosher or it might just be a huge disappointment to me personally. But no matter what I will always respect the memories of him blowing away the Tour de France and being king of the mountains in his polka dot shirt.

During the eighties I watched city cycling in Glasgow and Aberdeen and a couple of races in Europe in the nineties. My older brother was a very good amateur representing Scotland in the milk race away back in the day and I remember seeing Millar bombing round George Square and thinking he was a legend.

Fingers crossed this new book fortifies my memory.

Now, talking of respect, I have to say I like Paul Kimmage. He’s a better journo that he ever was a pro cyclist. I would recommend his book Rough Ride. I found it absorbing when it first came out and it’s just as important today.

It's an honest account of a promising amateur who never quite made it as a pro. Second division if you like. A bit like being a Jasmine Mink, but us Minks have never squatted in our vestibules to the best of my knowledge. Kimmage was categorised by others as an also-ran and a dreamer whilst knocking in his pan as a domestique, a bit like us Minks. He never enjoyed big-time success, never earning anything more than a low wage.

Against all this, he succumbed to pressure to hang on in there and doped a couple of times to compete back in the day. He was on the periphery struggling to accept his limitations at that level. He had to put himself forward against the drugs that fuelled those around him to success. He chucked it in the end, disillusioned and probably very bitter. But he was there. He had the war stories.

His book was one of the very first to “spit in the soup” about the abuse of drugs in his sport and is utterly compelling stuff. He was mocked, abused and castigated at the time yet subsequently vindicated by all the stories that came out about his sport in the years that followed. He rarely named names or dropped people in the shit but his contemporaries and peers etc pissed all over the guy.

His honesty, frankness and the innocence of the book make it a vital read which should appeal to anyone, not just those interested in cycling or sport.

Balance afterall is very important in cycling.

2007-06-04T16:04:00.000+02:00

June 4th:
Disce Pati Dark Warrior

I can see through you,
I've seen the things you do,
I know the words you say,
Won't sway or change my view.

But I want you to aspire,
To all those things you desire,
I won't stand in your way,
No way, let your spirit dictate.

You've got to

Learn to suffer,
Suffer to learn,
Cause no pain brings no gain,
But it's a fast track for change.

You look so good in black,
Swinging to and fro, from front to back,
Smiling so obliging,
You knock me to the floor.

But now it's time to let you go,
To a place, that I don't know,
And I'm the one left naked,
Feeling that of course,

I've got to

Learn to suffer,
Suffer to learn,
Cause no pain brings no gain,
But it's a fast track for change.

2007-06-03T13:09:00.000+02:00

June 3rd: Sunshine on Leith

Watched this show at HMT in Aberdeen last night. It was a great way to spend a Saturday night in the Silver City. Written by Stephen Greenhorn and performed by Dundee Rep Ensemble it's a wee trinity of love stories based around the songs and music from Craig and Charlie a.k.a The Proclaimers.

What I liked about it was the dialog and the fact that it represented real life pretty well. Excellent.

Dundee Rep Ensemble are quality. Sunshine on Leith is good. In keeping with the love theme, it's done to a simple KISS model (keep it simple and straightforward), so although the story is predictable in where it's going it still won’t fail to impress. The songs and music are most barry.

Don't know what Craig and Charlie feel about it, however it certainly does them no harm and it must give them a sense of pride. Their back catalogue won't suffer after seeing this either.

If you want some excellent entertainment - see this show.

2007-06-02T12:34:00.000+02:00

June 2nd: Scranning with Alex

We Minks turn up in the least obvious places. Last night we dined with Mr. Salmond. Very nice it was too. His speech was impassioned, witty and a wee bit on the hoof as he was noticed writing parts of it as he sat at the table. But then again he is a busy chap and it makes sense to ensure he gets the other folks names correct. He is a politician afterall.

He delivered an oration around what Scotland could be that was interesting, never patronising and which included topics such as sustainable energy, the kids being our way ahead and his vision for Scotland’s future. He also told us Gordie Broon eventually phoned to congratulate him for being democratically elected and that he reversed the charges!

He now also knows that my heid disnae button up the back.

Pretty good night all in all.

2007-06-01T10:22:00.000+02:00

June 1st: 3B48 Part 2

The seeds of time can change a man but I still feel the same.

I looked down from the top of the broad hill adjacent to Pittodrie Stadium and reflected on this being the place where Davie had spent so many cold nights displaying his skills to the assembled Aberdeen football club coaches. He'd always dreamed of being offered that contract of apprentice footballer with his beloved Dons.

I panned round and gave the once over to the graveyard next to the ground and mulled over how harsh life had been to him - ending up six foot under in there instead. A glint from a car mirror caught my eye from the direction of Golf Road and I could see the funeral procession slowly but surely crawling towards us from the Linksfield end.

It had been an awful shock when Davie's brother Hen sent the letter to me. It was such a surprise, I hadn't heard from him since the mid-eighties and I assumed that it was him writing to say 'welcome to the new millennium, it's been a long time lets get together for old times sake'. I was laughing out loud telling my missus how we'd called him Hen because he looked like one but was never a chicken at any of the stunts we pulled as kids when the words choked me almost if I'd had my neck wrung like one of the aforementioned fowl. Kev dead - funeral next week - phone this number for arrangements.

As I drove the one hundred and sixty miles from our new home in Glasgow to the cemetery my thoughts were mixed. One minute I had feelings of real euphoria as I recalled mad moments from the past which just as quickly turned to deep despair as I felt guilt at not having made more of an effort over the last few years. I rationalised that Kev's drug problems were the first step in the decline of his mind. It had seemed to me that his life had turned into one continual downward spiral of depression and addiction to any drug he could lay his hands on, chemical or alcohol based, it didn't seem to matter to him but it did to me.

The last time we had met up was when I had gone through to Edinburgh for a lads' weekend where we were going to get it together and have a laugh. That's exactly what happened. I had been really looking forward to it and my wife was glad to see the back of me for a weekend so she could chill out and relax and catch up with her mates.

Kev met me straight off the train. We hit the pubs around the station then without any food visited the clubs just off the Grassmarket area. He had got it together. All he had to drink was mineral water. The new healthy Kev was terrific company. All the while I had been clinging onto my rucksack, but having a great laugh. He was in superb form, toasting everybody's health and floating on the crest of an euphoric tsunami. He explained that he'd lost sight of himself for a while and that he should have known better, he bitterly regretted the fight we had all those years ago. He convinced me that he had been clean for ages. It was clear to see.

He seemed reluctant to leave the last club we were in, he was having such a brilliant time dancing and losing himself in the music, and he appeared almost majestic. He kept on screaming over the music to me 'Hey boy - just dance'. It must have been about four in the morning when I flagged a black cab to take us back to his flat. He had gone very quiet in the taxi and now he was silent, he just kind of smiled. It must have been one of those moments - I didn't get it at the time but I think now Kev knew it was the final occasion we'd be together.

When they found him, he had cut his wrists, there was nothing in the flat - no furniture, no carpets, no hope. All he had left was a note and his records and CDs - but nothing to play them on. All the other material possessions that he had were in a builder's skip on the street. A neighbour had said he'd seen him systematically chucking away the stuff over the last few days.

The note explained how he had felt isolated for what seemed an eternity. He talked about how nothing mattered - nothing was important any more. Apart from music. Music mattered but it was inside his head and he could play what he wanted whenever he wanted because it was his head - nobody else could get into it. He mentioned that he wanted me to have his music collection, as I'd never changed - I was PURE - I had got it.

So we buried Kev, and funnily enough his family plot was in the same row as Davie's. They were reunited and perhaps Kev was showing him a few dance moves. In keeping with the wicked humour that we all shared, I smiled at his coffin in the grave and muttered 'let's see you get out of that then'. I got a few looks from the other mourners but the lads would have loved it.

My mind was racing as I drove back down the road in the dark North East of Scotland night. I switched to full beam and suddenly I was beginning to see things clearly.

He'd left his music for me, he knew that I had never changed. I never felt I had to, I always thought things just happened anyway. I didn't need a reason, I had the music in me. I felt liberated. I had carried the weight of Kev and the fight on my back since it had happened, but we both of us knew it didn't really matter but then again at the same time we both of us knew that it did. It was only now I could see it for the first time.

I smiled for both of us and had a wee frown for my two dead friends and consoled myself by thinking that when my time came I'd be beside them as our family plot was in the same cemetery. The only difference being that my piece of ground was eight rows from the top but they would be close by.

Three before eight to be exact.

2007-05-31T00:04:00.000+02:00

May 31st: Midnight and I

Midnight and I'm all right,
I've made some time,
To modify my mind.

Yesterday I cut my hand,
And the wound inflamed bad thoughts,
Sent them running round my head.

But what is past is absent,
And what I hoped for gone,
This is the hour in which I am,
In which I am.

I'll never underestimate,
The importance of what you gave,
You taught me not to hate.

I get so tired of thinking,
Conclusion’s such an obvious place,
It is to you I venerate,
I venerate.

And if I climb the highest wall,
I can clearly see for miles and miles,
And I fully understand.

That what is past is absent,
And what I hoped for gone,
And this is the hour in which I am,
In which I am.

2007-05-30T10:20:00.000+02:00

May 30th: 3B48 Part 1

Looking back, it's plain to see the different paths we'd take.

Davie had it all, he possessed enough skill in his right foot, but he had THAT gifted left peg which could curl in a cross so wicked it would have made David Beckham's face turn the same colour as his bird shit hairstyle. He used to stay out late into the evening practicing his keepie-up skills while the rest of us got bored and disappeared from the attraction of the three-a-sides on Montgomery Road to hang out by Haas the Iranian's chip shop and the pleasures that brought. How we three hated the normality of our late pass curfew and having to be home before eight.

He seemed to be getting there as well. Invited down to Man U for a trial - turning out for the Aberdeen youth team against the dizzy heights of Montrose, Arbroath and Forfar before dazzling all at Dundee Utd, he was the schoolboy protégé with the ball and the world firmly at his feet. It wasn't a matter of where, just when. Then fate took a hand.

He never saw the bus - it came hurtling round the corner of Market Street where it turned onto Union Street. He was outside Burton's where he'd been buying some fashionable shirt for the Boys Brigade disco, when bang! Stood too close to the kerb the wing mirror caught him smack on the side of the head. Cruel.

His death affected all of us who hung out together but in particular Kev and I. Somehow football never had the same attraction for us after that - the ball had burst. No more three-a-sides, no other soul could take his place. We needed something else.

In the end it was easy to get into. At school, whilst waiting to go into Techie Drawing before the end of our dinner break we'd see Dougan, Gogsie Legge and Dave Morris practicing all their moves on the old wooden floor that was Old Aberdeen Secondary, the overspill annexe of Linksfield Academy. Their dance style was a more or less fixed step combination, with some acrobatic moves that they called 'breakdance'. We tried to imitate them in my bedroom whilst my Ma would laugh loud then show us the 'slosh' and say it was much better.

They looked the business as they glided from side to side, gracefully covering the floor and talking of nothing other than when they'd be on the next bus trip to Wigan Casino and future all-nighters. All the talk was about the brilliance of the 'three before eight'. Kev and I were intrigued. This meant something to us. We'd also heard that they’d shagged quite a few girls and as for staying up all night!

We started to copy their style, without it being too noticeable. But we soon found out that Northern Soul is not a style in the usual way. They did not dress in any kind of uniform. Their dress depended on which music they were into, for Kev and I the 'Mod' fashion was the jacket that would fit us best. At the school discos we'd ask for loads of different music and Dougan who at the time fancied himself as a DJ would normally sneer but play it all the same, and then we'd ask for Soul and he'd smile as well! It was important that we didn't incur their ridicule. After all we were only thirteen and they were sixteen. The others said it would never last 12 months, then they said it would never last two years but from this early beginning our love of music was to bring us down a road we could never have imagined.

There was no set of musical characteristics that classified a sound as belonging to their mode. They taught us that. The attachment of a song to the category 'Northern Soul' was made by them from their experience as fans and their frequent trips to Wigan Casino. As such it varied and I could listen for hours as they discussed the merits of Marvin Gaye or Candy and the Kisses and any other Epic, Columbia or Tamla Motown recording star. They educated us about how Wigan Casino was more than music and that it was a subculture from the past but at the same time one that never grew old. We learned how the DJs of the time decided not to play the popular soul music going around but instead concentrated on rare soul records from small independent record labels with a stronger more original sound always finishing an all nighter with three great tunes before time up at eight. We discovered how this rare soul attracted more and more people and how the press picked up on it and called it 'Northern Soul'.

Adopting this attitude the two of us grew together and developed our very own subculture. It included the long gone Davie because to us he was always there, enjoying the sounds, sharing our lives and living in both our minds over the years to come. Whilst discovering alcohol we used to sing 'Ghost of a young man' by the Jasmine Minks as some kind of wicked attempt to include Davie, but it helped us - it kept us together. Then it happened, cultural differences kicked in and it all somehow went wrong.

By this time we had completed our fifth and final year at school. Dougan and the others had departed from our little world into a diverse range of jobs - heating engineer, fish filleter and used car salesman. Not for them the world of academia, they had their education via the universities of Wigan Casino and The Twisted Wheel of Manchester.

Kev went off to Edinburgh Uni to study chemistry whilst I drifted via poor Higher results into a computing course at the local institute of technology. For a while it was great making trips up and down the road to see the odd gig, but very soon trips turned to letters and then we gradually lost contact as we discovered a love of new girls, student unions and having a good time in general. We also had part time jobs to contend with (a necessary evil to supplement our meagre grants and expanding record collections), which didn't help. Time for each other seemed to diminish amongst it all and we lost touch temporarily until the Christmas reunion of 1988 when we almost lost touch forever.

It just kind of happened, both of us had far too much to drink, got in way too deep about Davie, the past, the state of the Creation scene which I was defending and we had a huge row. It all became a bit mental and soon we were having a drunken fist fight over our music, the very sounds that were the beat of the heart that had held us together for so long. It was perverse, the very soul that was the essence of the three of us back on the hallowed turf of Montgomery Road, had turned on us and was tearing us apart. I should have sensed that Kev wasn't the Kev of old, his studies were taking him in a different direction, he didn't seem reasonable - his pupils were way too dilated.

2007-05-22T23:53:00.000+02:00

May 22nd: Rainclouds o'er Clachnaben

Was near my favourite haunt tonight. Clachnaben. I've ran up the swine let me tell you.

The prominent nipple or tooth-like rock (depending on how you wish to describe it) to the right of the picture, protrudes at the summit and makes this hill stand out and be instantly recognisable all around Deeside.

Seen from the south as you approach over the Cairn O' Mount or to the West coming o'er the Slug road fae Stonie, this 30 metre high lump of granite marks out Clachnaben from its neighbours.

Bennachie further north towards Inverurie, also boasts a rocky granite crown known as the Mither Tap, giving rise to the saying: Clachnaben and Bennachie, twa landmarks frae the sea.

Me and some other bampot mates (Ski and Angus tae name just a couple)parked near Glendye Lodge and went for it - straight up to the top with a mad scramble and sweeties at the top for energy and a couple of pints at the Feughside bar afterwards to nullify the pain, blisters and lack of breath - magic. Need to watch your feet in the warm weather for the adders though, they are all round Glendye, so be carefull if ye tak yer dug! Just like real life - snakes are all o'er the place min.

Tonight though pictured from the Shooting Greens Forrest she was moody with rainclouds gathering. Yet, moody, ominous, dark, light, all sorts of colours and shades. Superb!

2007-05-14T23:45:00.000+02:00

May 14th: RedSky

We lay on the grass, beneath the clouds
And discussed with unnatural calm,
Who Roddy Framed,
East Kilbride or Aztec Camera?
Either way, he’d sent them a letter, they’d never forget
Or was it a postcard?

I had said I’d meet you by your throne under the sky,
I had many questions, I needed to know why,
You seemed so distant in your splendid isolation,
The simple situation, masked deterioration,
And then you told me.

So we watched the blanket above our heads
Transform into the brilliance of another day,
A sea of blood red sky left me sensing,
That we were at the edge.

Nothing is left, nothing is here, nothing is sacred, nothing is REAL,
Nothing is left, nothing is here, nothing is sacred, nothing is REAL,
Nothing is left, nothing is here, nothing is sacred, nothing is REAL,
Nothing is left, nothing is here, nothing is sacred, nothing is REAL,

I have to work hard for the memories I feel,
Nothing left, nothing here, nothing sacred, nothing REAL,
Empty spaces inside my head, disordered glimpses
An unmade bed, dirty washing lying in a heap,
Left alone to rot and to reek.

Nothing is left, nothing is here, nothing is sacred, nothing is REAL,
Nothing is left, nothing is here, nothing is sacred, nothing is REAL,
Nothing is left, nothing is here, nothing is sacred, nothing is REAL,
Nothing is left, nothing is here, nothing is sacred, nothing is REAL.

2007-05-13T12:23:00.000+02:00

May 13th: Wattie's Dog

Forget it Pavlov, move over Ivan....Brodie's six today and in terms of conditioning and stimuli...toast does it every time.

Long walk and swim for the birthday boy today methinks!

2007-05-09T19:05:00.000+02:00

May 9th: Mr. Salmond, Dinnae Think Oor Heid's Button Up the Back?

I’m Scottish. I look Scottish. My thoughts are Scottish. I most definitely sound Scottish and I write like somebody who’s fucking Scottish. Unless you are Scottish I don’t think you can ever know just what it feels like to be Scottish.

At a guess I’d say it would be akin to being Irish or Welsh (the race nae the writer), but then again maybe not as they have their own crosses to bear. We can and do however empathise with them due to a commonality of having suffered a history littered with us being shat upon by our so called betters (the highland clearances, potato famines and the miners strike highlight just a few examples).

The Scottish detest Everybody. If you are neither Scottish nor a Nobody and you are reading this then go to another web page. Why? Because we don't take to you unless you are Nobody.

We like Nobody. Nobody is the most agreeable sort we know. Nobody paid their poll tax unless they were really forced in to it because the Tories used us as an experiment. Nobody would ever in their lifetime vote for the Tories. Nobody would pay a toll to get over the Skye Bridge back in the day. Nobody saw the ball cross the line in ‘66. A team of Nobody's won the Grand Slam in ‘90. Nobody does it better. Nobody likes the Jasmine Minks. Nobody knows. Nobody NEVER suffers fools gladly. Nobody's the best. Nobody goes against the grain. Nobody care's and Nobody get's the beers in.

So why, Nobody might ask, do we detest Everybody?

Perhaps it’s because Everybody keeps telling us that we are Nobody. It could be down to the fact that we are constantly told that we are never happy with our lot. (There might be some truth in that one though because I always seem to have a list of things that are currently pissing me off). The philosophy behind Anglophobia has become a part of our culture more through design than by happening. I reckon that it's a way of expressing the Scottish nations lost identity and although sad it's really something that should never be taken too seriously in this day and age.

However when asked which team I support I’ll still always answer that it's Scotland first and then whoever's playing England.

But it’s much more than just that. Make no mistake it’s because we don’t take too kindly to being told what to do and how to act or how not to react, we don’t like to be told what's good or bad, we CAN judge for ourselves. Maybe just maybe with our own Scottish government things might change for Nobody. Hopefully the SNP might change things for Nobody. Then again maybe not, I thought the same about New Labour back in the day and look how that turned out!

If the SNP attempt to govern by objectives only, then it won't work. 80% of us don't know the objectives. The disenfranchised votes would seem to validate that we don't really know what's going on half the time (latest estimate 141,000 spoiled papers = almost 7% of the vote = crazy). But I am hopefull that they will not.

I reckon they have to address objectives from a strategic perspective. If they do this they will start a revolution in the way Scotland can stand up for itself. We need to take a new look at how Scotland can succeed. We need a vision, mission, values and belief system that works for us and one in which we trust. We need joined-up, holistic thinking that delivers from the top down, strategic goals for OUR nation, a portfolio of undertakings that provide programs to implement needed change in OUR country (we are always told that change is good afterall) underpinned by projects that make a difference, sustained by actions and positive results for and from our people.

I’m proud to be Scottish because just like me - these Nobodies are Somebodies who matter and really do care!

© Wattie (with Nobody to talk to today)

2007-05-03T10:24:00.000+02:00

May 3rd: Scottish Election Day

My votes my own and private at that. But people who know me will have an inkling of what I am about. But I still ain't telling anybody cause it's personal. However, when the canvassers outside the hall try to glean an opinion I might have some fun by not talking or communicating verbally but by instead sticking any one of the above stickers on my forehead in response to who is hassling me.

Try it, pick a badge according to your view of whatever party hassles you outside the voting station - childish? Perhaps but it provides an enormous sense of satisfaction!

2007-05-02T10:11:00.000+02:00

May 2nd: The Nearly Men

It's a thin line between success and failure. The weekend’s events in the Scottish First division where Gretna stole back the title and promotion to the SPL from St. Johnstone with the last kick of the ball was real drama. Hopes and dreams shattered for some, ecstasy for others. It was the same last night, with Chelsea blowing it on pens against Liverpool. It’ll be similar story tonight for either Man Utd or A.C. Milan. But I think Fergies the dogs, so come on Man U.

Being so close yet still so far is not a new thing. The picture above is of the Dundee FC 1948-49 team who lost the league to Rangers on the very last day of the season that year (click on the photo to enlarge it). It was the 30th April to be exact. The guy with the ball was Alec Stott. That day they only needed a point against Falkirk at Brockville to win the league. Rangers needed to win against Albion Rovers and in front of 17,000 sun drenched fans, many of whom had made the journey from Dundee hoping to see their team clinch the title, a similar drama had to be endured.

The pitch was firm but although the Dark Blues made heavy weather of things in the opening stages they looked to have got the breakthrough three minutes from half time. My wife’s uncle Alec stepped up to take a penalty at nil-nil after a team mate had broke into the box and been brought down. Alec was the Henrik Larsson of his day. Currently on 38 league and cup goals he stepped up to take the kick. Right-footed he directed a shot towards the bottom right-hand corner but he had not made a clean connection and the Falkirk goalie dived to turn the ball round the post (according to press reports at the time). My Faither-In-Law said different. He was behind the goal and said the ball was going in but it hit the tarry keepers elbow and spun behind when it could so easily have gone in. Those are the breaks I guess.

With Rangers coasting 4-1 against Albion Rovers it had to be all out attack. Alas it wasn’t to be. Although Alec did get his 39th goal of the season it wasn’t enough. They ended up losing it 4-1 themselves. Recriminations followed. Next season Alec by then out of favour was sold for £6,000 to Partick Thistle. Dundee replaced him with a Scottish Internationalist called Billy Steel for something like £23,500. Funnily enough Alec banged in another 39 goals for Partick, (including a Hat-Trick at Parkhead with a certain Jock Stein marking him that day) whilst Steel although a magnificent player in his own right got nowhere near that amount. But people are fickle aren't they. Alec died a few years ago. He was a great footballer. I know my Faither-In-Law tells me.

He gave joy to many and the picture below is of the crowd at Dens for the New Years game in 1949 against Rangers their great rivals that season. The official attendance was given as 39,975 but reports from back in the day estimated 45,000 were in the ground with a further 5000 outside. Rangers went 1-0 up within 10 minutes but Dundee equalised and pressed on with Alec scoring two to give a 3-1 victory.

Alec had a great career. Playing for Portsmouth, Dundee, Partick Thistle and Hamilton Accies. In between he served in the war as a Marine, fought with my Faither-In-Law (who claims he was the better player between the two of them) at D-Day and around Caen before being shipped back to play an exhibition match in the UK with the greats in their baggy shorts. That's a life that was in no way ordinary.

Anyway, as yesterday was May day and a celebration for the International Workers of the World and fitba is the working man’s sport (allegedly) it makes me wonder what Scottish football could be like if we could get the crowds back for the other teams in our country and not just witness buses of glory hunters shipping out of cities to watch the old firm. Wouldn't it be nice?

2007-04-28T10:57:00.000+02:00

April 28th: This Is The Day

1. This is the day that the weather forecasters got it wrong. Sun in Newtonhill, no haar today Mr. Weatherman, no siree. Dolphins observed off the coast - richt bonnie min.

2. This is the day that Aberdeen will get 3 points against the mob fae Kilmarnock.

3. This is the day that I'll finally get a "to-do" list done and tackle the jobs that need doing - must be the sunshine.

4. This is the day that I'll hopefully manage a beer after being nae weel ken - cannae wait - gasping for a stella ot three - lost a few pounds over the last fortnight - not a great way to do it though.

5. This is the day that the proverbial cheques will be in the post.

6. This is the day I might just strum my guitar for the first time in a while.

7. This is the day I'll finish reading Brian Wilson's book.

8. This is the day I might build my own sandbox.

9. This is the day I've been looking for.

10. This is the day...

2007-04-25T13:50:00.000+02:00

April 25th: Crazy Horses

Stumbled across this and it made my day. Singing drummers....are you watching Tommy Bongo's? This een can dance, dance, dance min - genius moves! Crazy horses whaaaaaaa....whaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

2007-04-24T11:38:00.000+02:00

April 24th: Jesus Wept

They dae grand memorials in America. I used tae work from time to time in the building just up to the right of the above picture in Oklahoma. I took these pictures one lunchtime whilst wandering aroon doon toon.

The Oklahoma City bombing was an attack aimed at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building, a U.S. government office complex in downtown Oklahoma City. It took place on on April 19, 1995, just over 12 years ago.

The attack claimed 168 lives and left over 800 injured. Many of them were kids. It was an atrocity, just pure evil. My own daughter was born in 1995. The memorial is on the site of the building that was brought down. The chairs at the memorial are different sizes - the weans have small chairs, the adults proper sized. It's quite moving. As I said they dae great memorials in America.

Why it happened isn't worth discussing - it was simply wrong - it's that straightforward. Then again so was Sept 11, just as it's wrong what's going on in Iraq and a whole host of other places and a whole host of things that have happened in the past.

The graffiti on the wall was from one of the first fire teams onsite to attend the rescue scene.

They like their God and church in America and there is nothing wrong with that.

Each to their own and live and let live is always what I subscribe to.

However I can't but sense it's all something to hide behind and in the cold light of day, the statue below overlooking the memorial site better describes my own feelings about it all.

I have the sinking feeling that there will be many more events and atrocities in the world like this in future years and I'll be left holding my heid in my hands at the needlessness of it all.

2007-04-18T23:16:00.000+02:00

April 18th: Genius Move!

If anybody ever says to me that they adore Salvador Dali because he was surreal, I always tell them that I prefer his slightly slower brother Dilly because he was unreal. Dilly Dali - it's the way I tell em! So, why get a cheap laugh out of a dead man then? Well, that's obvious - envy. He had the ability to realise and implement imagery from the deepest recess of his mind on canvas. Bang! Vision on, angst and joy, passion and soul dispersed from his system in equal measure and recorded for evermore as a fine work of art. Job done he'd move on, detailing his distinctive viewpoint from any given period in his life. You can look at the surreal masterpiece, Persistence of Memory (1931) or the juxtaposition of his later more religious life in The Vision of Hell (1962) as examples. He could express himself. He was a rock 'n roll star with a paintbrush.

Dali was different. It's been well documented that he would try and enter his subconscious mind whilst painting, so he could make it real. He would live and work his emotion onto the canvas. He would carry out his handiwork the moment he awoke from sleep to try and capture any dream immediately so he lost no impetus or feeling. He tried to keep it real. He was a genius.

When I read Julian Cope's two-part autobiography, Head-on and Repossessed I found it hugely entertaining and was inspired to note that Cope would go to bizarre lengths to get the right vocal mood and sound when he recorded. That man lives his life through the music and the music through his life. That's fucking Genius. When Cope or Richey from the manics cut themselves up, were they 4 REAL? I think so. I wouldn't go as far as to say that was genius but with guys like that, what you see is what you get. They are an expression of themselves. So what makes genius? Talent obviously helps but it's not always essential. For me it's a combination of factors.

When you feel empty, lethargic, devoid of inspiration, pissed off at people's lack of belief and you don't see a way out then what do you do? Do you reel on the ropes waiting to be counted out, every second taking an eternity, lasting forever, or do you come out fighting and go on the offensive yourself? Genius does.

For example we should all point blank refuse to accept misguided misconceptions and the attitudes of some that guitar pop music is "a young man's blues" and that because you're number one in the charts then you're the best and fuck the rest - bollocks. If your Work, Art, Love and Life has class, style and is relevant to the here and now then it must be heard irrespective of who or what you are, whether you are young or old, hip or chic, bohemian or not. To me it's irrelevant, it's not where you're from its where you're at that's important. That distinguishes genius. Genius does not buckle.

Genius cares about essentials, not what's currently most popular at a particular snapshot in time. It can be conveyed through a medium termed guitar pop amongst others. It might equally be through a pair of football boots. Who's ever going to say that George Best, Jim Baxter, Charlie George and Pele, to name but a few were not genius? Even now, Ronaldo, Giggs, et all display flashes, it’s all about the past, present and future. Genius can be found in any walk of life; it's about attitude and how you live it that makes it in my book.

40 years ago on the 15th April 1967 genius occurred at Wembley stadium, I know my Da told me so! I am a conditioned genius ;-)

People should judge for themselves and make their own minds up about what constitutes genius. Ability to "sustain a market"? (Unless you're a bean counter) NO. Quality of output? YES - Make a reaction to your environment. Make a move, make a Genius Move!

If a shop sold genius alone, what a shopping basket you could have. Imagine it, "Excuse me, have you got any of those what do you call it again, oh yes 'Neil Young' albums? Oh you have, great; well I need at least two of those, one for myself and one for Aunt Edna. Oh and I'll take one of those Lee Perry's while I'm here, if I can't 'scratch' I'd simply itch and I'd only want to get it later wouldn't I? What about the Jim Baxter does keepie up at wembley video, oh and a copy of 'it didnae cross the line in '66 ya blind bastard' Oh and can I have one of those Dali's' please. No time to dilly now is there, it'll save on another trip!

Julian Cope plays the Lemon Tree in Aberdeen May 8th. I’m gonna be there, I hope some of you are too.

2007-04-17T10:03:00.000+02:00

April 17th: Norski

1968, on the grey-blue North Sea,
a ghost hauls in the trawl,
engines stopped, the battle ensues,
a natural tug o' war.

Was it the unspoken menace,
from the deepening swell, that
fuelled the fire that burned within, or
thoughts of home and pleasures sought,
suppressing worry, toil, pain.

Now here in the present down at Point Law,
cold waves, slap onwardly by, and
I find myself singing, Hank Thompson’s tune,
hoping things will turn out right.

2007-04-06T10:56:00.000+02:00

April 6th: Rootin Aboot

From April 9-14, "Rootin' Aboot" runs in Aberdeen. It is described as a celebration of roots and folk music. Sounds good and given I'm on my hols that same week I want to get along to some of it.

But before that...the new firm game is on Saturday, c'mon the dons...3 points will keep the pressure on the others around us for that euro spot...kwualtaaay...

2007-04-04T12:26:00.001+02:00

April 4th: C86

Every now and again things from the past crop up. "Cut Me Deep" was put out on some compilation called C86 recently and somebody let me know about it via e-mail. Ah cyber space communications, what efficiency it brings, instantaneous knowledge transfer (aye right - given that it was released last October and I hear about it now). Nae that I'm bothered though. I don't particularly want or need a copy of this compilation. C86 - what a load of pish.

It was just an NME propaganda exercise for the dodgy hair brigade back in the day. We were never a part of it then and shouldn't be classified as a part of it now. Loads of bands jumped on that particular bandwagon at the time if I remember correctly. All of those self promoting "look at me" types, "give me a listen", "I have something to say" whooo hooo get me aff this indie wheel onto a major deal as soon as you like types.

We were never one of those bands though. Which is why we probably never cut it commercially at the time. We were misfits. We worked our weird and worked it well. Don't get me wrong like, we might have grabbed it with both hands if offered, after all we were happy enough to be on Creation or Poptones samplers. But that was as a part of our labels identity and why we were there, it had nothing to do with the fickle NME.

"Cut Me Deep" is a truly great track though. I think that this is possibly the most pop song Jim ever wrote. I still have fresh memories of driving up from London and recording in Edinburgh with Wilf Smarties, who was also working with a diverse array at the time including Wet Wet Wet, Goodbye Mr. McKenzie and our own pals in APB.

I recall driving to the studio and seeing the Proclaimers at a photo shoot just off Prince's street, us doing a u-turn and shouting to them from the van, "Bathgate no more" our fists clenched and them creasing it and us accelerating off. They had been on the tube just the week before with their stunning debut and Tom and I had watched it in awe in South Norwood over a couple of beers. Jim and they others joined in the fun and then said "fa's at like"?

During recording, other Aberdeen chums, The Shamen dropped in by, sticking their heads into the studio and them digging the key change towards the end. Looking back it's brilliant that we recorded "Cut Me Deep" in Scotland. Cause that's what Scotland has done for me, contributed artistically to my life, memories and working my weird.

It was originally meant to be Ian Broudie producing but he'd called off being too busy with the Bunnymen at the time. I chatted with him at Alan McGee's Radio 4 club in Nottinghill many years afterwards and he couldn't recall. I did though. I also remember Alan telling me he would never work with Wilf again. Something about percentage points and royalties. Don't know if he ever did Ah well. Happy days.

All Jim's stuff was great though. In my mind he's a genius. Tom is a legend. Martin should have made a million, Derek receive a gold trumpet, whilst wee Stumpy got a vintage Wurlitzer for his efforts. But as Adam would say, all of this was a lifetime ago.

I've posted a montage of some personal photo's to show what it was like around that time. It's an RAF production (ruff as f*ck) but if you have stumbled across it then you might just like it and see thon Ricky, it was a brammer of an axe man!

2007-04-03T22:49:00.000+02:00

April 3rd: Jazz Hands

Not long now until the Scottish elections, the month of May ain't that far away. What do I wish for...New people that deliver on promises, more and improved Infrastructure, Hospitals, Housing and Roads that ain't or don't need to be dug up all the time, New dental provision for those that really need i.e. a Scottish Health Service, a pension for the fishermen who really deserve it from away back when, BUT...who could or would give it to us...well I'm not sure about that, as the picture shows, things can be all smoke and mirrors and party line dancing to a perception of the issues that matter most (for a while at least anyway) all dressed up with a bit of tarrah and all that jazz....but what I do know is...

No delivery = FAILURE

2007-04-02T11:07:00.000+02:00

April 2nd: Granny McSloy's Passing

I was thirteen at the time and I remember it well,
Ma was busy making cups of tea for the women,
And all the men were having a drink,
Yet for all the activity it was, still, very peaceful.

Her's was the first dead body I'd ever seen,
I didn't want to look at my Granda, the last time,
Football was a much more attractive proposition,
But now there was no choice, the ba had burst.

My Uncle Jimmy took us through to see her,
"C'mon and I'll show ye the stiff" he said,
Ma cried at this and Da went berserk,
But nothing happened, it wasn't his fault.

He'd suffered a bang on the head in an industrial accident,
And although it was years ago, he was never the same after that,
So he took us through to her room, Edward and I, and
I'll never forget that moment as long as I live.

Granny McSloy lay there at peace with herself, quiet,
And I thought about her being with my Granda at long last,
I felt Edward tug my arm and I turned to see what was up,
Jim had his trousers at his ankles showing us the boils on his legs.

Unperturbed he told us about a John Wayne film he liked,
And about how he's always wanted to be a cowboy,
At that moment I swear I heard my Granny shout,
"Would somebody tell that daft bugger tae shut up!"

2007-03-30T11:36:00.000+02:00

March 30th: ImperfeKtion

Diving for salvage rights.

Deep in the wreckage that acts as my mind,
I’ve stored memories not faded by time,
Filed under F, for fuck-up you see,
So when the time’s right I can recall them with ease.

Deep in the wreckage that poisons my mind,
I’ve suppressed emotions, uncompressed over time,
They hamper my progress from one day to the next,
Sentencing me to a life of unrest.

Deep in the wreckage of my black and white mind,
Rest unpleasant extracts, like the sediment of time,
Dust not settled as is often the case,
I suffer pent up madness, simmering HATE!

Deep in the wreckage that acts as my mind,
I'm diving for salvage rights,
ImperfeKtion...ImperfeKtion...ImperfeKtion.

2007-03-29T08:53:00.000+02:00

March 29th: Och Bugger It!

Well the better team won on the night. Two poor goals we shipped though. Can't complain about the team or approach, I just wish they could have tested Buffooon a bit more.

I still believe our time will come! Bring on the Faroes!

2007-03-27T14:39:00.000+02:00

March 27th: Time Gentlemen Please

I have an obsessive concern with time. It is my past, present and future as a continuous whole. Time makes me, shapes me and will ultimately slay me. Always, it seems, I have never enough time or far too much of it that I end up wasting it.

Time is love and hate. If time had hands then tattooed across it's knuckles would surely be tick and tock or better still boom boom because those fists constantly pound my head

tick, tock, tick, tock, boom, boom, boom!

Yet like each and every other right minded Scot, regardless of gender, class and race, I still hope and believe that there's time and that our time is coming for Scotland in every aspect of our lives, whether it's Cultural, Political, the Arts or in Italy tomorrow night. Let’s not waste time, grab it NOW with both hands.

C’mon Scotland!

tick, tock, tick, tock, boom, boom.....boom!

2007-03-25T22:07:00.000+02:00

March 24th: In the nick o' time

Scotland did it in the end. They left it late against the Georgians though. I thought it was a gutsy performance, nae brilliant mind, just gutsy. Roll on Italy on Wednesday. Everything will be crossed in the hope of some kind of result. It's just the way of it being Scottish eh no!

Hampden was magic....I loved every minute...the snap was taken just as the ref blew for full time. A huge sense of relief and joy! Brilliant.

2007-03-23T11:25:00.000+01:00

March 23rd: On our way to a reckoning

No more bosses versus workers. We are on the same side, the same team." Tony Blair, Labour Party Conference, Blackpool 1996

"We knock in our pan's and they don't give a damn, no they don't"

The 70's strikers sang, and from civil disobedience sprang a collective stand, Forcing change in many lands.

But the 80's broke the united vote and trade unionism died a death. Margaret Thatcher's attacks on the working class, damaged solidarity, It split brother, sister, kith and kin.

Divide and Conquer was her basic rule, utilising greed to capture votes. Our civil rights got choked, eroding both collective and individual hope, Impacting deep despair and suffering.

Now the 21st century's here, it's blatantly clear, we're under multinational control. This makes them happy to see because they require us to be, Dysfunctional disordered and still torn apart.

We must strive to fight for given rights because true identity allows us insight. They don't want the people to be, they don't want the masses to see that, Controlled and justified anger gives us proles strengthened might.

We must come together, now as never before, stand up proud and act as one. Don't be put down, trampled to the ground, just don't take it anymore, Network together, cooperate, and sustain in unified cohesion.

Self-emancipation is the explanation for the battle against capitalisation. Conviction to individual liberation will defeat racism, sexism, humiliation, We have to help those that need.

Our rallying cry is clear: Stand up and be counted!

2007-03-21T14:59:00.000+01:00

March 21st: Mary Craig (A263)

Was in the local book shop for a wee browse at lunchtime. It's good to stretch the legs. I was having a swatch at the history section for a book about pirates.

Not just any old pirates but one telling me about drunk Aberdonian pirates on a trawler called Mary Craig way back in 1970. That's her in the picture above. It was the last act of Piracy recorded in Scottish waters.

The crew got pretty drunk on diesel or something and overcame the skipper, locking him in his cabin. They then kicked him off the boat with the chief engineer and two others. They were last heard uttering that they were on their way to South America in search of God knows what. Probably aztec bars, chocolate or gold though, I wonder?

Ah the mind of the drunk, ye cannae beat it. My faither was the chief engineer on the Mary Craig many years ago but he wasn't a part of this renegade bunch or their story, it was a different crew. I don't know if that makes me happy or sad cause it would have left great stories to tell yet they all ended up in jail for a couple of years as a result and I'm glad he didnae have to go through that. It must have been some hooch. Is that what they call a Rum do?

It would be great to think of the rebel soul being a pirate. He did take a bucket right enough! Ahh ha me hearties!.

2007-03-20T16:01:00.000+01:00

March 20th: Rebel Soul

What the F*ck

been away for a wee while. A lot's happened, meaning I haven't had the motivation to do much. Let me tell you what's been going on in the world of Wattie Mink via a short précis....

October 2006 - finish off my dissertation in order to complete my MSc fae Aberdeen Uni. Job done - handed in on schedule, albeit I was left knackered, got a commendation oh yeah!

November - Graduation day 25th (pics perhaps later). Events dominated by the death of one of the most ill natured craters I've had the privilege to hero worship, know, love and admire, Wattie Senior. Sad times. He passed on 30th (St. Andrew's day) befitting the lone piper of Edinburgh Castle who was a real Scot and true Celtic spirit.

December - trying to get things back on track. Highlight was xmas with my family and the Undertones gig in Aberdeen the same week Wattie died (a real co-incidence). John, Damian and Paul were all terrific. John and Dee are true rock n' roll stars, John in particular knew my Da through the family and he thought a lot of him - Genius bloke, Dee sent a magic text message on xmas day which cheered me up. Low point was the funeral and the thought of hogmany. It turned out good as the three of us had a good greet, laugh and caper ourselves in the hoose. It was rare!

2007 - haven't felt like doing much but spread Wattie's ashes with other siblings on what would have been his 79th birthday - January 14th. I just read Kev Williamson's blog and he's an inspiration. I immediately updated this. I feel like I might write for a while.

2006-09-06T15:10:00.000+02:00

Sep 6th: Where Do You Wish You Were Today

Been having a busy day in the office...and I'm off on my travels after today for a wee while and I'll miss Ailsa and Morag like mad...I don't really like being away from them...I am a bit of a homebird really...yet because things were so hectic my mind went walkabout and I thought of my mate Alan Christie...he's a bit of a Steve Irwin himself...and will be somewhere in the wilds of Canada as I write taking the tourists out and about and giving them the real Canadian Affair...that's him on the boat...came a long way fae Old Aberdeen eh...now that's how to do it...none of your Best Western Hotels in East Anglia for him...just a tent and the stars...lucky bastard....

2006-09-06T14:33:00.000+02:00

Sep 5th: Rock On Edwardo

There's an old saying...

The mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains,
the original dimension (anon).

and in quoting Spandau Ballet, so true, funny how it seems....

Dr. Edward de Bono regarded by many as a leading international authority on creative thinking describes lateral thinking as a way of thinking which seeks changes in perceptions, concepts and ideas through the use of formal thinking tools...

Well I tried some techniques out for a work problem and it worked great...Logical vs Lateral thinking...ying and yang...it's my new rock n' roll...lovin it....

2006-09-05T09:05:00.000+02:00

Sep 4th: Stevo

Sad to hear about Steve Irwin's passing...Ailsa and I had many a magic time watching him on the goggle box...'look out mate it's a cobra'...which I often quoted especially when eating Indian...it's a great beer afterall...

Anyway, I don't care if you were for or against what he did...I thought he was a great character...the Michael Jacksonesq stunt with his kid wasn't impressive but he entertained a great many in other ways...

Perhaps, I'm sick but I do think he might have laughed at the above himself....

2006-09-04T13:14:00.000+02:00

Sep 3rd: Weeked Results

Scotland 6 the other lot Nil - the best kind of relaxing Sunday post Saturday that you can hope for really!

2006-09-03T10:38:00.000+02:00

Sep 2nd: SCAT

Ailsa's gig was part of the Scottish Cultures and Traditions (SCAT) festival at the weekend. What a great organisation. Normal people keeping on keeping on at what makes us what we are. Chilled to some harp recitals, tapped our toes to the Shetland fiddlers and enjoyed the odd Doric tune or two. Fabulous.

2006-08-31T23:04:00.000+02:00

Aug 31st: A Work In Progress

Visited a big big boat today. Brilliant it was too. Was down at the A.P. Tyne shipyards in Newcastle to see the Global Producer III re-fit in progress. Down in the dry dock, I got a chance to stick my head in where the oil will get sucked into the boat from where it's released from the trapped sub-surface rock. Fabulous engineering...in total awe of it all. What really blew me away was the sight from the heli-deck of the soldier ants with hard hats on scurrying to and fro...awesome...what happens after this effort is done though? I hope they have many more orders cause these guys are a credit to us all.

2006-08-30T22:21:00.000+02:00

Aug 30th: Back In The Day

Memories flowed for me last night. Got home from work well knackered. Morag was rehearsing the school kids for a show while I had to take Ailsa to a dance practise for some festival she's got going on this weekend.

Madonna's "Hung Up" is getting the treatment on Saturday...which got me thinking about Nick Jones who roadied, photographed and drove the Jasmine Minks back in the day. He used to play in a brilliant band called APB. However, they hardly got a listen in the UK due to Peter Powell being a self promoting wank (as most radio one dj's were back then apart from Peel, Long and Kershaw) but they did get some TV airtime as I remember seeing them on Riverside or whatever it was called.

APB did well in America though, doing the college radio circuits and playing in New York with James Brown believe it or not...magic!

This is where Nick and Mad Madge come in. Nick once told us in the van on the way to a gig in France a tale around how all the APB lads were put up in various digs in the big apple and Nick got placed with a guy who was a dance teacher. Anyway a pupil phones the apartment about a rehearsal and as the teacher dude was out she chats Nick up due to his having a nice Scottish accent! Told him after about half an hour her name was Madonna and she wanted to meet him and would try and catch the gig later on that night....she was unheard of at this time and I don't think they ever did meet....a missed opportunity or a great escape...make your own mind up...but I smiled to myself at how simply taking my wee girl to a dance rehearsal 20 odd years later would pull back a long suppressed memory from back in the day...

Which leads me to Strummer.

Morag gave me the Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros DVD as a present ages ago and I only got the chance to watch it last night. More memories. 1985 Edinburgh...caught the Clash busking...ace maroonie...even met Strummer afterwards and we had a once in a lifetime chat.

He was mesmerising.

I wanted to talk about him and the Clash whilst he wanted to discuss the Jimmy Boyle collective and getting money into the bucket he was wondering around with, cajoling punters and passers by alike. Watching the DVD it's plain to see he was fundamentally a good bloke. I knew this anyway but it was generically reinforced by this DVD. I'm also reading Johnny Green's book about life with the Clash at the moment and he talked about Joe and him having his moments which is fair enough as these guys were a travelling family falling in and out as families do. But the Joe, I talked to as a clash fan was just magic. What's past is absent but what's really obvious is that he left life way too early and the worlds a much lesser place for him not being here even after four years have passed...

If you have any spare change stick it in a bucket for something worthwhile that Joe would have championed or better still a just cause that you follow because as APB said 'we all need something to believe in'...and get out there and buy an APB album...it's worthwhile and you'll feel good...do be do be do be do

2006-08-29T13:10:00.000+02:00

Aug 29th: Hey Ho

It's time to start ranting and raving again....might be cause I'm getting older, fatter and baldier or it might be that I've got something to say...don't know....don't care...I'm just back for a bit and you can like it, lump it or fuck off somewhere else to get your kicks.

Regards,

Wattie Mink Esq.