There will be a pause ...

... in transmission. This blog is shutting down for a while. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

Where were we ...

I had a quick trip home over the Easter weekend and now I'm back in sunny Dalmatia. The weather is distinctly summery and the riva never looked nicer than it did today. Last night there was a bit of a gathering in the Bar Libar just off the riva where the ex-pats of Split normally spend a drunken Friday night. Oddly enough (?) I was in the thick of it and when someone suggested we decamp to a night club I was up for that too. Big mistake, however when we arrived at the Tribu it was around two thirty in the morning and we were only there half an hour when they decided to close. Stephen then announced "No problem, I've got a bottle of Glenfiddich at home." I really should know better than to try and keep up with these youngsters but it's true what the say - There's no fool like an old fool.

The result of all that is that I have been feeling so crapulent all day. So I'm in no great mood to be creative. Anyway I just want you to know. Do you see that prominent peak in the picture, the pointy hill about a third of the way in from the right hand edge? I've climbed that. It's about the same height as Ben Nevis. I felt worse this morning than I felt the morning after I climbed that bugger. Now I'll have to get into some kind of shape for playing football tomorrow. It's a hard life trying to enjoy yourself sometimes.

George W. Pants Like A Dog

This guy is more toe-curlingly embarrasing than anything Ricky Gervais, of The Office, could ever make up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyAaAI1qG-A&eurl=

Resolution & A Cultural Revolution

Now referring back it seems I am falling by the wayside, sorry about that, I did also say I would avoid cliches like the plague and falling by the wayside is so-oo cliche. No, what I am failing on is my resolution to post an entry at least twice per week. Now that is a big ask, as some cliche addicted football commentator would say.
(Yes, beating United on their own turf Ron, it's a big ask of any team but Rovers covered every blade of grass tonight in their efforts, literally.)
In my own defence I will say that the work is getting in the way of my leisure pursuits but I do need to buckle down. I'm giving myself a push because I know I can do better, and it's not just on this blog. My last TMA to the OU, while utter crap (see below), was nevertheless an attempt at creativity and that is something that I need to be if I am to retain any real sense of purpose in life.

I look at other blogs, you can see from my links list the kind of stuff I like to read, and I envy these guys their staying power as well as their talent. I am just reminding myself here one of the main purposes of this blog was to track my progress in the OU course, An Introduction To The Humanities and, while I started off well in this, I have not really followed through. One reason for this was a message I received from a well-wisher advising me that, according to the rules of the OU, I was not allowed to post up my completed TMAs. Thank fuck for that I hear you chorus. Well maybe so but it did fill space.

Filling space is not my objective. Using space creatively, that's the point. The next part of the course is entitled; The Sixties - Mainstream Culture And Counter-culture. If there is a subject which should be close to my heart it's the Sixties. I was sixteen years old in 1965. I had already left school and started an apprenticeship in a heavy engineering factory on the Clyde. I still had hair and it was fashionably long in the style of Charlie Watts. I had a girlfriend after going through school feeling myself the object of ridicule of every group of girls who looked in my direction. There was a wonderful new invention on the horizon called lager. The outlook for my self-esteem was rosey.

So it should be a doddle. A few reminiscences on factory life, growing up on a tough housing scheme (Actually it was quite a respectable housing scheme with well tended gardens and the most trouble we got into was for banging on old people's doors and running away), youthful fondling in the park, a first holiday abroad in Majorca with Harold Wilson's maximum £50 spending money (unbelievably there was still some left over after a fortnight's excess).
Instead we get questions like this;
How useful is the term cultural revolution when applied to the Sixties? Support your answer with examples from each of these disciplines ; History, History of Science, Religion, Music and Art. Not more than 2000 words.
The easiest part of that is the 'not more than 2000 words'. That means anything from 200 to 2000, right? I should say not, the fuckers. There might have been a cultural revolution in San Francisco or Ibiza, but not in Greenock. We were too busy serving our time and looking forward to the seventies when we would be journeymen and out of there. The Sixties (with the capital S) only happened retrospectively as far as I was concerned.

Now I'll have to really trawl through the course material and try discover what it all meant. I've got until the 5th of May to get it done by. Wish me luck.

Carnaptious ..

.. is a fine word. It's an old Scottish expression that means grumpy, but something slightly different from just grumpy. There's a sharp edge to it, as if it's someone who's slightly high pitched, shrill. It would suit someone with a beaky nose and a pointed chin. Now I have been characterised as carnaptious once or twice and, I dare say, that was fair comment in whatever the circ's were at the time, although I don't have a beaky nose and pointed chin. We can't be sweetness and light all the time, especially if we are Scottish. It's inbred, this dourness (and if there is anyone out there who pronounces dour as "dower" I'm going to have to give you a slap. It rhymes with whore).

So why do you need to know this? Well, no reason really. I've just submitted my latest Tutor Marked Assignment and it was crap. Capital C, capital R, capital AP. I really did not have a lot of excuses. I did beg for a few days deferral as I was so busy travelling and such, and I got the few days grace. But I was ill prepared. So I'm pissed off, and if you meet up with me in the next few days you might find yourself asking - What's up with that carnaptious old git?
On the other hand you might see me sipping a pina colada on someone's balcony declaiming to all and sundry on the foolishness of people who worry too much. Why can't people be more relaxed, and so on. My guess is the latter.

Paul Story - A Farewell

Here I am back in my little bijoux flatette in the cultural heart of old Dalmatia. During my recent travels back from the Far East I met my body clock going the other way, so now re-united I with myself I can concentrate on the job in hand, viz; this wee blog and my OU TMA (see below).

Before I get started on other things I have to tell you about some changes now afoot in our small but perfectly formed ex-pat community here in Split. On Friday night we all foregathered in the Bar Libar just off the Riva, and adjacent to the church of St. Francis, to say farewell to The Writer. He's been here nearly two years now (I think) and he's now decided to take himself back to the UK on a publicity tour. It was a happy and, at the same time, a poignant occasion because in many ways Paul was the hub of the community, a fixture at his favoured table outside the Backpacker Cafe, either tapping away on his portable keyboard/PDA set-up or receiving visitations from his many friends, rather in the manner of the Oracle bestowing wisdom on the seekers of truth.

Luise and Kristijan had gone to some trouble to ensure that the walls of the caffe-bar were festooned with farewell banners and joshing messages and we were all there to give him a good send off. Brett made a fine speech and Paul responded with startling verbosity. Some tears were shed and much drink was taken. We'll miss him. So if you're wondering what Paul's writing is all about, visit his website. And if you see him in the UK buy him a drink, he's usually thirsty.