Stumbling towards the finishing line…

I’m knackered.

It’s not been an especially busy week so far – just a quick overnight trip to St Andrews – but it’s a long way down and I barely slept last night.  Not that my hotel was poor.  It was very nice.  But like all hotels and B&Bs, the bed was different from what I am used to, and the room boiling hot.

Also, I am on two weeks’ holiday, and after a busy few months since Christmas I am just desperate to stop, collapse and do nothing.  With the exception of the annual spectacle of the joinees’ Easter gathering in Nottingham (featuring the greatest football fixture in the world), it will be a quiet break and I intend to do as little as possible except chill out, take it easy, eat, sleep, write and take photos.

Anyway, I’m off to bed – one day to go!

Quiet

This week has been an incredibly busy week, and it felt like I was away for longer than just the three nights.  I’ve been shattered all weekend.

Lots of news, and I might take the coming week to deal with it all, but let me start with my new camera – a Sony DSC-W210, for those for whom these names mean anything – which is better and cheaper than my old one.

I have yet to figure out all the settings, but at least it is familiar enough to my old one so as not to be too inaccessible.  One of my very first efforts, taken in Edinburgh this week, is on the right.

Hopefully in the coming week I will get out and about to try out the different settings – though the one disadvantage to the much-welcome change to British Summer Time is the lack of opportunities for long-exposure night shots, which are among my favourite kinds to take.

As I mentioned in my previous blog, there have been a couple of developments with my writing, but I’ll keep those under my hat for the time being.  I’ll also do a bit of a review of Firefly and Serenity.  And hopefully I’ll have soon figured out how to solve the problem with publishing my website…

Not an update

I have plenty to update you, dear reader, on.

I’ve bought a new camera.  Spent a pleasant weekend in darkest Aberdeenshire.  Caught up with Niall for a coffee, as exclusively revealed on his blog.  Finished Firefly and Serenity.  Added to my washing up mountain.  Hosted a fascinating couchsurfer (booked in before my recent decision to opt out).  Had some interesting news on the writing front.  Completed, but failed to successfully upload, my new website.  Missed out on the chance to join Edinburgh’s premier pub quiz team.

But it’s late at night, and I have a very, very busy week ahead which sees me depart tomorrow (Tuesday) for Huntly, with Aberdeen and Edinburgh to follow, before seeing my own bed again late on Friday.  So I don’t really have time to update you right now.

So perhaps I’ll give a more substantive update this coming weekend.

Rust in peace

I got back from a trip to Orkney for work today.

Although it was fairly muggy while I was up there, the flight up on Tuesday was perhaps one of the most stunning flights I have ever taken, at least within Scotland.  It was late afternoon, with the sun just beginning to set, and there was not a single cloud in the sky all the way from Inverness to Kirkwall.

At take off, we could see east along the golden sands of Nairn and beyond, and to the south-west an incredible spectacle of the sun reflecting on the whole length – yes, all thirty-two cloudless miles – of Loch Ness.

I took in the gorgeous mountain panoramas out west as the red sky of the sunset began to emerge over the peaks; and of the contrast of the neat order of Cromarty and the industrial sprawl of Nigg, rich and silky blue water between them.  The journey up along Sutherland showed off the stunning coastline and bleak, empty interior, and with a quick glance back over my shoulder, I could see the snow-capped Cairngorms against the clear blue sky.

As we crossed Caithness and the Pentland Firth, we took a detour I’ve never experienced before – a loop round the west of Orkney to take in the awesome cliffs of Hoy, and the famous Old Man of Hoy.  The cliffs were almost as high as we were, the water round Orkney as blue as a Caribbean holiday brochure, giant red tankers and vessels standing out against the blue water and emerging dusk.  We finished up with great views of Kirkwall as we came into land.

A magnificent and memorable flight, without a bump or cloud.

And no camera to capture it all.

Yes, my wee Sony DSC W50 is no more.  It was not the greatest camera in the world in terms of its capabilities, but its pocket size more than compensated.

It developed a bit of a problem with the lens at the weekend, and after checking a few things on the web I tried to fix it but failed; and it’s now irredeemably broken.

I feel sad in a way – that camera and me have been through a lot together, and it’s served me well, giving me some brilliant photos.  Infinitely more mediocre and crap ones, admittedly, but I’ve been very proud of some of the shots I have squeezed out of something whose diameter is barely more than that of a credit card.

Naturally, I’ll get another camera very soon, and will have to look into various options – including just getting the same one again.

But for now, I just feel a little bit at a loose end…

Explosions in the diary?

I got some news the other day that was both highly exciting and frustrating.

According to the latest epistle put out on their email list, Explosions in the Sky have announced a couple of European dates.

I’m pretty sure I’ve raved about them before in these haloed pages, but in case I’ve not already done so, Explosions in the Sky are probably my favourite band at the moment, purveying some astoundingly beautiful, powerful, emotive instrumental post-rock.  Just two or three guitars, which slide from nerve-tinglingly subtle to melancholically furious; with a deep, emotive heartbeat coming in the form of pitch-perfect drumming.

No voices, no singing, no words; only the simple beauty of raw music.  Indeed, the way you’re drawn to hang on every note and drumbeat makes Explosions in the Sky all the more evocative, poetic and thoughtful than any lyrics could make them.

Anyway, I have always imagined that a live EITS gig would be an incredible experience.  And thanks to a few dates that help celebrate their tenth anniversary, that experience might be a reality.  The band, who are from Texas, have various American dates lined up, but two European ones in September have naturally caught my eye.

One is in Dorset, in the south-west of England, at the End of the Road Festival, of which I’d never previously heard.  It sounds fun – a slightly more grown up festival, with a claim that bands normally do longer than normal sets, which is very enticing.  However, Dorset’s a bit of a bugger to get to from Inverness, and there appears not to be a day ticket option – and I doubt festivalling by oneself is the best way to do it.

The other date is Antwerp, in Belgium.  I’ve been there before, and while I love Belgium generally, I found Antwerp to be particularly compelling – the great architecture, food and beer the rest of the country is famous for, but with a cosmopolitan, compelling edginess that gave it an Eastern European feel.  It’s a fair distance away too, and it’s a midweek gig, but with the sleeper to London and the Eurostar to Brussels, it’s not an impossible journey.

The third option I have is to hold out.  Explosions in the Sky’s website suggests that there may be other gigs added quite soon.  Do I wait and see, and pin my hopes on a gig that is in an accessible place at perhaps a less busy time of year work-wise?

The risk is that there are no better dates, everything sells out, and I end up not seeing them at all.  The other risk is that I endure a ridiculously long journey to a far-flung gig only to find that they’re playing Strathpeffer Pavillion.

Well, almost certainly not Strathpeffer Pavillion, but you get my point.

Any suggestions?

Serene weekends

Some years ago, I watched a science fiction film called Serenity with a friend at the cinema. I’d not heard anything about it beforehand, but my friend assured it me was good and told me that it was a spin-off of a short-lived TV series called Firefly, which I’d also not heard of.

Serenity was a very pleasant surprise, mixing a Star Wars-style “western in space” idea with a gritty feel, exciting plot, very real, engaging and likeable characters, and unexpectedly good humour.  It was exactly the kind of science fiction I really like.  I made a point of remembering to track down Firefly itself some time, and then promptly forgot about it.

Until recently, when St Silasite Graham, who I know from my time in Weegieland, blogged about both the film and the series, singing their praises and drawing attention to cheap DVDs of them available on Amazon.

So I snapped them both up, and they arrived in the post today.

I’m off to Aberdeenshire this weekend and next, and that involves taking a return train to Aberdeen and will take up ten hours in total.  It’s a journey I know too well and am slowly becoming bored with – much as “spot the distillery” and “count the disused stations” are mildly entertaining to pass the time, I am somewhat in the need of new distractions.

That said, I did take the journey the other day, and not only did I witness someone playing the electronic chanter, but also a passenger across from me had a sneezing fit, his sneezes delivered perfectly in time to the song I was listening to on my iPod at the time (Homage to Patagonia by from lemonjelly.ky by Lemon Jelly, if you must know).  Whether he was also in time with the tune played by the chanter player, I’ve no idea.

But after that, I’m not sure what else there is in life to experience on a train journey.

So anyway, my Mac has an excellent battery life, so I’ve decided that perhaps I’ll take it and the Firefly and Serenity DVDs with me on the two forthcoming weekend trips, and see if I can get through them all.

No doubt I will review them on these here haloed pages…

Oh and in other news, spotted in the Eastgate Centre today: former ICT manager Craig Brewster.  He didn’t recognise me though.

Not that he let on, anyway.

Au revoir, couchsurfing

Since moving back to Inverness over eighteen months ago, I’ve been a member of Couchsurfing – a worldwide accommodation exchange network.

I was a member of a similar group before I left for my time in Glasgow.

The idea of these things is simple – you offer, or receive, free accommodation for a few nights with people in other parts of the world.  Although very much based on trust and respect, the site is safe, with the ability to view others’ detailed profiles before you choose whether to host or ask to stay, find out a little about people before you commit, and of course say no if you’d prefer.

And then you surf their couch – or host them on yours.  Or your spare bed.  Or floor.  Or whatever.  And that’s it.  Simple, effective and fun.

I’ve met some amazing people through it, hosting folk from pretty much all corners of the globe.  Although I’ve only ever been hosted once through it – in Auckland – I’ve still enjoyed being a host many, many times over the past months, and all of my guests have without exception been lovely people: Couchsurfing has helped me realise  not only that the vast majority of people in the world are inherently good, but also how first impressions in an email really, really count and how good a judge of character I think I’ve become.

It’s a way to show off Inverness, meet new people, make contacts around the world (some of whom I looked up in the USA in September past), usually be cooked for out of gratitude, and occasionally brush up on my French with native speakers.

Hearing what other people think of and see in Inverness can be inspiring, with people impressed with the beauty of the city and the surrounding area, the nightlife, and the clear, fresh air.  Hosting couchsurfers has helped me remember that this “sneck” of the woods is probably the greatest place on earth.

It can be an enlightening experience, too – helping me notice things I’ve taken for granted.  Recently, I was taking a Portuguese couchsurfer on a tour of town and she stopped at the scene in the photo above, and she asked why there were so many individual chimney pots on the top of the house.

I paused and thought for a moment.

“It’s a declaration of ownership – that house has had four owners in its lifetime, and each new owner has to put a new pot on the top.  When that one’s sold, the new people will need to install a fifth.  It’s a way of recording heritage.”

“Really?”

“No, I just made that up.  I’ve actually no idea what they’re for.”

Of course, once I thought about it, I realised it would have been from the day when every room needed an open fire, and each would funnel up the chimney and out through its own pot at the top.  But my guest was intrigued, because in her country they would all merge together into one.

Clearly, Brussels has a long way to go before we’re a truly United Europe.

But as I say, it made me notice something I’d never thought of.  And that’s why I have found Couchsurfing so enlightening.

And why I am so disappointed that I will, for the foreseeable future, not be hosting any more.  Life has taken a few twists and turns recently (for the better, I must say), and it’s been increasingly difficult to have the free time to host.  Work keeps me away from home such a lot through the week and I have been struggling to get through all the Couchsurfing emails I’ve been receiving in recent weeks from folk wanting to stay.

To avoid disappointment and to make life easier for myself, I withdrew from hosting the other day.  It will be a relief to be out of it for the time being, although I will miss the buzz and unpredictability of walks down to the bus station with only a grainy photo go recognise my guest by, of fun nights out, of practising my doubtlessly highly inaccurate city tour spiel, and above all of discovering great new friends all over the world.

Some day I will get back into it, perhaps when I am more able to host or when I go on another adventure.  But for now, I am simply thinking about how richer I am as a person for the experiences I’ve had and the friends I’ve made.

And how much I am enjoying currently having a free, quiet night in.

Letting The Side down

I was at a gig last night at the Ironworks, which I was greatly looking forward to – The Side, who I saw recently, were playing alongside various others.

Only they weren’t – and it was only at the end of the night, when the crew started dismantling the set, that it transpired they weren’t actually playing.

There’d been no cancellation notice (The Side were still billed on the website and on posters on the day) and I’d actually emailed the Ironworks some weeks ago to check the timing of their appearance but had got no response, which I found a bit disappointing.

So I ended up being there with a couple of friends for over four hours waiting for a gig that never happened, feeling a bit foolish for having enthused all evening about the band we were there to see.  Admittedly the other bands were good, but I was less than happy at 1.30am to discover that the band I’d been hoping to see were, for whatever reason, not playing.

I’m tempted to ask for the whole £0.00 back that I paid to get in.

The other day I booked tickets for another performance at the Ironworks – Dave Gorman, who is doing a stand-up show in September.  That should be good – I’ve read his books but never seen him live.  I’d expect him to turn up, although given he’s aiming to have cycled across most of the length of Britain to get here, who knows…

Time and tide

I’ve not blogged for over a week – something coming up for a record, I think.

It’s not that there’s nothing to report.  Lots has been going on, in fact.

It’s just that anything I could report has been either the boring and mundane, the off-limits, or the yet-to-be-uploaded (a few half-decent photos are still sitting in my camera).  I’ve hosted a few couchsurfers though, and rounded off serene fortnight hiatus from work travels with a trip to Aberdeen and Edinburgh.

I’m just returning from that trip now, and am blogging on the train thanks to a dongle (a word which I can neither write nor say without smirking).  I’ve been at a conference in Edinburgh the last couple of days, and I don’t think I’m compromising my self-imposed “no blogging about work” rule by saying that I heard a presentation on generational theory which was absolutely fascinating and depressing at the same time.

The speaker – an authority on terms like Generation X and Generation Y – explained in a captivating and entertaining seminar that today’s Generation Y have never experienced a recession (until just recently of course), have grown up in a post-Cold War world, and have always known the Simpsons to be on telly.  They are apparently digital natives (I as a Generation Xer am a digital immigrant, apparently).  They use Facebook. They “get” the new Cadbury’s adverts.

It made me feel old.

Not as much as last night, however, when I left the conference venue, which is on an out-of-town university campus) at around 10pm, taking a bus back to the city centre where I was staying with a friend.  Getting on at the same time as me was a large number of students, who not only looked about 12 but were all dressed up to the nines, I presumed after having had a night at the students’ union.

The next morning, another conference delegate told me she’d had the same experience an hour later, with all the students “in their glad-rags heading out to go partying”.

Oh, I said.  I’d assumed that, at 11pm on a school night, they were leaving their union after a few pints, in order to go home.

No, I was assured by my colleague.  They were actually leaving their residences and heading to town to start their night out.

Good grief… now, where’s my pipe and slippers?