of hormones and comestibles . . .

wednesday 26th september
mostly morning in between doing other bits and pieces

a shroud of mist envelopes ben lawers in a matter of minutes. moments ago the vast white swathe was framed, clearly defined, against a luminescent blue sky illuminated by broad beams of soft cadmium yellow reaching out from the east. the sharp outline of that summit giving false prospect, as it invariably does, of a clear day. in the few moments it takes us to travel halfway along our brief morning stroll, this once opaque blanket has dissipated into an almost translucent gossamer-thin wisp that obscures all but the very edges of the western sky though the sun is still free, for the moment at least, to spread its sparkling autumn rays.













a doggie interlude . . .

it has come to my notice that leeloo has been paying more attention to cleaning herself of late. her transition to womanhood is starting and I will pay more attention to their protection for the next few weeks as they will be more vulnerable to infection. I suspect that meea is also coming into season though she is not displaying any obvious signs. as they are litter sisters I am assuming their hormone cycles will coincide, at least, approximately. sometime soon I will have to test for pinking around her vulva, not a very blokey task to have to undertake but needs must.

they are now each consuming the equivalent of between four and five cans of wet food every day and have not, as yet, reached the end of their ninth month. their appearance belies their actual size because of their perfect proportions and it is not until seen next to bogey, himself an impressive beast, that their true size can be appreciated. how fast they will continue to grow is not certain but I have read that they will not reach full physical maturity until they are two and a half years old.

keeping slim? . . . fat chance!

in the meantime, I, who have allegedly reached at least physical maturity, am constantly in the grip of extreme hunger now that the chill is in the air, and consumption of foodstuffs, beneficial and otherwise, is well on the increase. during the summer months I would, typically, intake a total of one yogurt and up to five pieces of fruit before dinner. today, for example, I have eaten an extremely thick cheese sandwich albeit between two pieces of ryvita, three pieces of toast and butter, a tin of vegetable soup, about a dozen pieces of licorice (the sweetie variety), a yogurt and two pieces of fruit; and it is only half-past two. this constant cycle of shoving food down my neck and the resulting size increase in the gut department is threatening to weaken my defences against the lethargic offensive that I am still determined to neutralise. thank the gods there are no choccies in this fortress. of course, even mild fluctuations of temperature can have the same unwanted relaxing effect so I find myself between a cold and a fat place.

the quantity illusion and heartwarming consumables . . .

(or the joy of punctuation)

25th september
9ish in the evening

meea, aka tasha, aka telulah is relaxing at the end of the decking
whilst leeloo, aka teea, aka . . . (I am certain there were other guises that have exited the memory department) and myself are trying to keep warm despite the currently redundant portal which shields us not from the elements due to its open nature.

that's right; had to leave the bloody front door open cos the sodding dog wouldn't be able to get back in again.

it may be that the constant identity changes are somewhat confusing the quantity issue in regard to the doggies of whom there are, and have always been, only the two. it may be that bogey and muffin, who now reside next door with the former spouse have been added to the original sum thereby producing four. it can only add to that confusion that the said b and m were once resident in this place subsequently taking a vacation in tropical dunfermline and returning once more to our more temperate (and bleedin cold, brrrr . . .) dochart glen; only this time, next door. it could also be that I may have reported one of our communal walks on which there were indeed four dogs present.

my dear canine companion has at last deigned to plonk herself by my feet, bless her cotton socks, so I'll just deign to shut the door. good; we shall now move on to tonight's events, unenthralling as they are but rewarding all the same. [you will notice I am using far fewer commas and possibly making just as much (or little) sense]. you will no doubt have noticed my addiction to all things punctuational which has now manifested its ugly countenance in the form of parentheses [or brackets (as they are known in more colloquial circles)] . oh thrills; once more, the double enclosure variation!

I have just had the unusual pleasure of taking in the 'scotland today' programme which this evening featured the small whisky producers industry (not 'small whisky' though you already knew that but it did give me the excuse to use yet another pair of parentheses; and here is the closing chappie :)
notice how the happy face has appeared by pure coincidence (of course)!
back to the point . . .
apparently, such is the growing demand for whiskies in countries hitherto inactive to any significant degree in terms of the importation of these fine products (china, south america, etc), that the future is apparently quite secure. indeed (and here I am forced to use, once more, the comma), 90% of the said produce is exported and single malts from the smaller more specialised distilleries are benefiting from this overdue acknowledgment and appreciation from our foreign cousins.

and from one warming comestible to another . . .


though I am by nature a modest fellow I must take credit for the production of what may be the best chili con carne ever produced on this side of the atlantic; possibly on the whole planet. what is more, I have produced enough to feed me for another three days. having also partaken of some glasses of warm chianti (and here I am, once again, obliged to use both parentheses and commas for I must state that I find chilled wine, especially of the red variety, most distasteful and loathsome to the palate), I find myself at once in a truly cooperative state and ready to embrace any soul who might wish to shelter in this abode. or knock his block off, depending on the nature of his intended visit. you will notice I have used only the pronoun 'his' as those of the female persuasion are far too deadly and should be insulted or even approached not without due caution. many a poor soul has been fooled into thinking otherwise and has paid dearly for his miscalculation.

oh, that was fun!


health warning re the above mentioned heavenly feast
DO NOT LICK THE SCREEN!

where mojo gone?

tuesday 25th september
7.30 am

soulless in wester lix

. . . from that first waking moment that dissolving dark shroud of night has been failing in its attempt to radiate its promising half-light into my guarded mind. the proof, as if one was needed, is that there has been not an inkling of that familiar warming tension when even the most meaningful selections from my list of music fail to spark and I am striving to find more than just words to use in making this feeble entry. I am spewing out these meaningless utterances from a too high, too surface-borne, part of my consciousness; but I continue in the hope that somehow I can inject this soulless offering with a spark of spirituality, with something more than just the nicotine and caffeine powered outpourings from this motorless vehicle.



I attempt to regenerate this spark searching through my playlist. j.j.cale offers some hope, jeff beck's 'cause we've ended as lovers' seems to get those juices flowing, but it is a false hope as his virtuous guitar work eventually demands too much attention and the basic requirement for simple sadness or joy, either would have done, is consumed by a far too complex array of what would have been, had I been in the mood, a perfect composition. too many commas; that must surely be a symptom of this fractious semi-literal offering. another beck piece, the same progression, the same anticlimax; disappointment again, then 'greensleeves', that beautifully simple musical jewel that encompasses in but a few moments, the optimism, the pain, the joy of that elusive age, allegedly written by that most unlikely of composers, henry the eighth, promises to bridge that lifeless flow. the unwelcome ditty 'I'm henry the eighth I am . . .' mercilessly seeps from the memory bank and breaches the fragile defences of this desperate cool heart that longs to be cocooned with that unattainable warming shroud. 'in my place', coldplay; by the tenth rendition, it is, at last, starting to happen though the commas are still very much at large. it is, perhaps, a symptom of this interrupted stream, this clogged artery through which the soul's blood cannot pass freely.

content that I have, at least, made an attempt to continue the day's journey with the complete package, I round up this pathetic jumble and pack it as neatly as I can in the hope that the virtual postman will deliver it safely to your door. the dogs and I will take a little walk down the track and we will get on and see what the day has to offer. I think I am going to rename them meea and leeloo.

sunday 23rd september
8.00 am






I have just spent too much cash downloading toons . . .
of late, music has become such a major thing after years of drawing nothing from it; but life, as it is now, demands this wafting of such a hypnotic breeze through the airwaves, almost constantly. it's crazy really; I had thought that my passion for things of the heart had all but expired but, it begins to be clear, clear that it had only been a hibernation brought about by lack of stimulation. now, there is so much sensuality on tap, there is hardly time or space to draw a breath; but the energy is stronger and more all-consuming than any drug; it adds solidity to the burgeoning construction of this citadel that is my life. it fills every corner of this place and gives me the sensation of being enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and belief in good things to come.




a thin layer of moisture tellingly covers my eyes. 'alone again or' has just started playing. "I could be in love with almost everyone, and I will be alone again tonight . . ." so many tears of joy in this place. seeing me, people might be under the impression I was having a nervous breakdown, but they could not be further from the truth.



yesterday I collected heather, bogey and muffin and, as you can see from the pics, bogey got on like a house on fire with teea and tasha. yesterday, on seeing my 'ex'-family for the first time in weeks, my heartstrings were severely tested and, I must confess, I am still in love with those sweet beasts. in good time all will settle down and, please the gods, I envisage a happy community will occupy this hallowed place.





there was a rainbow out on the track this morning; I was pleased to see where it met land, a hundred yards down from lix toll garage on the A85; it is not often one has the privilege of seeing where a rainbow ends. I take that lucky vision as a portent of good things. I wonder if any vehicle was blessed with this apparition and whether it had sustained any damage bumping into that pot of gold. of one thing I am certain; it will not be covered by any earthbound insurance policy.

when the levee breaks . . .

friday 21st september
8am










I am finding it difficult to get the little grey cells moving these days . . .
maybe it's because my mental energies are concentrated on keeping the dogs happy and 'bringing them up properly'; maybe it's because I'm concentrating on getting things done around the house, clearing heather's stuff out, establishing this space as my own, soaking it with my own personality. that's difficult in itself as I am feeling ugly and old which really fucks me off because I despise my own self-indulgence. there are underlying confusions involving projects which are not advancing as they should, readying the pottery for work, for example, which I have done virtually nothing towards resolving, decanted a few boxes, the sum total of several weeks in which I could have got it up and running.

I am not feeling particularly lethargic. something about it frightens me. something about undertaking significant projects on my own frightens me. I'm coming to realise that this is the first time in my life that I've been on my own with real responsibilities and that I'm actually quite capable of dealing with them and that frightens me. I am living in a paradise with everything in the world that I need and that frightens me. it must be the 'something's bound to go wrong' syndrome or, maybe, I just do not feel as though I have earned it. I feel that getting off my arse and doing it will not change that feeling though, in reality, (a club which seems loathe to accept me as a member,) it probably will.

that is why, today, I will get something sorted, I SHALL DO IT! get that damn trench dug, put up shelving, clear up the mess. it will help clear the mess in my head. I guess. essentially, it's just a question of sifting through and dealing with one thing at a time and, though it never seems that way, time is something I have plenty of; or maybe, that is the root of the problem. next month I'll be fifty two, moving swiftly downhill from the half century that should have accumulated so much more accomplishment. the depth of things that a man should be able to achieve in all these years and I have only skimmed the surface.

enough of that crap . . .

I will be picking up the babygate I ordered from fraser's today. the idea is to keep the dogs from getting upstairs and to restrict their domain to the lower level. we will all have to deal with their distress when they suddenly find that nighttime cuddles are no longer on the agenda, at least, no longer on the bed. there will be an awful fuss tonight, the trauma will be unbearable, their happiness uncomprehendingly shattered; desolation and despair, an emotional torture inflicted upon those innocent souls for no apparent reason. I am already worried about tasha. she has become quite aloof and no longer hangs around her sister as she did at the beginning. whines and whistles occasionally cut the peace for no apparent cause but, the book says, do not pander to her, acknowledge her distress but do not look her in the eye, do not comfort her. kindness from cruelty and all will be well in the end. I hope so.



a chilly breeze cuts through the open door reminding me that summer is now just a memory. tasha wanders by, on her way to the water bowl or, perhaps, outside to relieve herself. at least their toileting problems seem to have been resolved. we shall take a wander down the lane and then get down to today's chores.

the pottery awaits . . .