The physical properties of the city of Edinburgh alone are enough to inspire awe in even the most determinedly impressionable, unobservant, English ape. But are best seen, rather than described. The populace, however, is ripe for ridicule. The population can be split in two roughly equal parts : Ancient and Modern. The former consists of 250,000 surreptitious wall-eyed hybrid Irish pub-dwellers, admirably possessed of a profound, seemingly infinite capacity for quiet reserve and decorous, delicate incuriosity, until drink-fuelled, they burst into extremes of hospitality and disinterested generosity. I can't help but envy their complacent, effortless confidence in drinking every day.
LOSS RATIOS EXPLAINED. As well as depression related shop-lifting, an abyss of deepness opened, distress flowed up through the slough, and our cousins came to stay for the weekend.
This did not effect the overall performance of the Economy, which suffered only a minimal amount despite the high volume of unhappiness.
Far ere's slurry ere's sillar? Nae here. Boyndlie is an estate as opposed to a village, or you might like to picture it as a scattered community of farms and other houses.
Boyndlie House lies about six miles SW of Faserburgh, and is a seat of a branch of the Forbes family - although I know the family as being called Ogilvie-Forbes, as have been for at least a century.
Slept all morning. Children's party all afternoon, Sighthill, Edinburgh. Sweet and polite group of kids. Basket scampi at the softplay. Watched MAKE ME AN OFFER (1955) starring Peter Finch, then all episodes of Nathan Barley. The most ideal weather. Last night, good company, Tadg, Andrew, Kenny. XLV: A type of gramophone record classified by its revolution speed of 45 cycles per minute. Refers also to the Jacobite rising in Scotland. One half of a football game! My boys were so pleased to see me at lunchtime. They wrestled on top of me for twenty minutes, trying to get best position for tickles. The weather is ideal, giving the day an endless quality. Turning to think of the future. Focus on completing a new book this month. 0 + 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 = 45. Counting in triangles.
The content and purpose of dreams are not definitively understood, though they have been a topic of scientific speculation and a subject of philosophical and religious interest throughout recorded history:
In the Mews flat, with a new computer : I didn't really want to live there, and worse, it seemed like I had a choice. I put my ear to the computer while the others moved in furniture. I was asked questions by the landlord. No : I didn't want a sound card for the computer; I didn't want anything. Are you sure you know how to use it? he kept asking, and I reassured him that I did. The people who sold me the machine came on all facetious. What was the point of such a lovely Mews flat, with flowers in tubs, cobbles, and this lovely new computer? The computer could be used as a telephone, but I was happier putting my ear to it and listening to the voices this way. Are you sure you know what you're doing? the landlord asked; but I was boss. Another call came through : someone's friend wanted their boat moved into the market, and all the men were to go and help. So : we moved off down the hill, descending until I realised that I had to return and put in a call to my wife. I had an excellent method of clambering back, a variety of crawl which allowed me to move low over the ground, in a manner of sliding, reaching upwards with momentum until at the summit I was able to break into a sprint. When I got up back to my Mews flat the landlord had taken the computer, and was driving off through the mud. I didn't chase him. I couldn't even find the flat any more.
Hymn number 145
The Lovely Manger
Soft as whisper
So precious and sweet
From his head to her feet
His dad is the God of
Our Heaven and Earth,
Investing his effort,
And reaping his worth,
Signed for the season
He maketh a shine,
He's God, and his love will,
Explode like a mine.
Another word that has changed its meaning is the verb to humanise.
To humanise now means to turn into a machine, but this definition has become a matter of balance. Life on Earth is the fact of a brick wall neatly stacked, all the same colour and interlocked so that it does not fall down. When an object is humanised then it is fitted into the technosphere, rather than brought into the human mode.
Does it have a commercial application?
Yes, it is a bumble bee, and therefore we may enslave it for Honey Breakfast Flakes. Can it be used as a lubricant? Yes it is an essential oil can be sold to violinists to help their grip. Can we re-manufacture it on a mass scale? Yes we can, no matter what it is, even if it isa plastic or a chicken. The word humanise applies to every fowl we have so far come across, they can be bred as often as taste requires, andironic as it may sound, humanised in farms.
Are you going to Brian Baxter's party said Terry and I said EH Brian Baxter's pairty like? and he says AYE it's this weekend and I says EH and Terry says AYE MIN Brian Baxter says that it's his party LIKE this weekend and I just says well it's NAE LIKE I WANT TO GO OR ANYTHING and Terry says NIH and I didn't think you would LIKE and then I said well what the fucker you telling me for LIKE? and Terry says well I just said I would like to Brian Baxter’s like and I said EH WELL THEN and goes down to the offie like thinking that if it was Brian Baxter's pairty LIKE I'd better get to the offie fast before Brian Baxter's guests get there and fucking buy all the booze and I was laughing thinking that's MENTAL imagine if all the booze had been bought from the offie like and I was LAUGHING and thinking aye the FAGS AND ALL.
The Tesco lager was an almost translucent, yellow colour, with a good amount of carbonation and short-lived, white head. The immediate aroma was of floral hops with some grassy tones, followed by a little graininess, and some faint malt in the background. Shortly after that I was flinging CDs across the room at Tadg, who was trying to play the trombone.
Marcel Duchamp's Three Great Putative Gestures were:
1. Adding a moustache and beard to the Mona Lisa in L.H.O.O.Q (1919);
2. Bottling Paris air (1919);
3. The creation with Man Ray's help of his artistic alter-ego, Rrose Selavy (1920 and 1921), who featured on an empty perfume bottle, whose purpose was to provide a bottled version of the artist.
Here I am . . . the lorne forlorn . . . a work-shire hunt, I mean a work-shy, Berkshire hunt, with triple bananas for lunch and the promise of a whole lot more when I get home.
Bananas! B is for boost their energy flows, A is for "ass" through which the pulp goes, N is for Nana, Mouskouri she sings, A is for anvil where Thor's hammer rings, N is for Nana, whose shortbread we crave, A is for Atholl, whose brose is our fave.
And that is the poem, soon to be featured as the strap line advertising my new product range, which is Burnett's Banana Brose. Mouskouri will be singing the song, accompanied by Marvel Comics' "Thor" who will mashing bananas on an anvil in a Scottish glen.
The entire project as you see is "concept led" and my Nan is mentioned, purely because the Banana Brose is her recipe.
Aberdonian progress has not deviated since the Enlightened day that the modern town was built. The ancient map drawn by Gordon of Rothiemay in 1661 shows a trickle of a town with no design .... a selection of buildings laid in unsuitable conditions. After a hundred years of this construction style the people were in one fell swoop placed in line by designers. Within a century, these same people had begun to enjoy this linear living and put the solid granite effect into motion, and following the introduction of several ionic columns, porticoes and forward looking city plans, Aberdeen became is the epitome of modern rational behaviour, mens sana and lucid from street to street.
It may be worth my while to note that the book reviewers of the last two decades ought to be included in my list of Biblioclasts and as the enemies of IRL books. Many books that lie in stacks in newspaper offices, due to the large amount delivered there, have had a few leaves removed, and in many others whole sections torn out.
I suppose it served the journalists’ purpose thus to use the wisdom of writers but books are delivered to newspapers unbidden and yet in good faith as perfect, and when they lie unreviewed in their hundreds, the editors are quick to cause damage if found defective or low in quality in their eyes, while the publisher has no redress. This way, books are destroyed in the thousands, each year.
Realists polish their lenses to capture the multifarious aspects of the external world. They pride themselves upon the soundness and the sanity of their vision. Realist writers never doubt the totality of the objective world.
But there are others! These writers are not so well appreciated, it is true, but they cultivate the inner vision, abandon the paved highway of standardised points of view, brave the quick-sands of non-conformity, and seek their own path through the quagmires of subjectivity.