"I Want To Move Forward, And I Want To Stand Still"

I've never had too much trouble with dreams and visions. But I've had plenty with making decisions. Sometimes this has led to bouts of doubt filled depression. After all, in a world of choices, and I am fortunate to be blessed with plenty of choice, which is the right one? Really. How do I know?

Even after having made a decision (of course I've made millions in reality) I am often uncommited to my choice. Based on a strange mixture of guilt and uncertainty. I want to do the right thing. For me, for the people I love, for the world I live in. It's a hard cross to bear.

Today I sat for a while trying to work out a way forward. Because indecisiveness, wavering, and uncertainty do not a happy bunny make. Trust me on that.

So I sat for a while. I stopped judging myself. And I had a revelation. It wasn't for anybody else. Just me. But now I've got a mantra to move forward. It's not  very elegant for somebody who loves to play with words. But it's just the job at this midlife crisis time of life (I'm 49 in a couple of weeks). I think I'm going to write a bit more about it on here. Help to work out how to use it properly.

So. Here is my new mantra.

Pick One Thing.

The line "I want to move forward, and I want to stand still" is from my song Have Your Cake And Eat It - September 12th 2012.

"Monday Could Be Fun Day"

My Daughter in Law to be (DIL!) is expecting me to mention something about the wedding everyday now. She's got a flipping app that counts down the seconds! Don't know what she'll do with herself after it's all over. Anyway, that's the FIL obligations dealt with for today.

 I've decided I'm going to be writing on week days only. Need to be able to keep this up, and realistically, the way life is presently, week days only is more achievable than the daily blog I'd intended.

Also, I'm going to allow myself to be short and sweet sometimes. Because I can be you know. I don't have to rattle on forever, like a 15 course dinner, outstaying my welcome.  Not that I've ever had  more than 3 courses myself. But I've heard these food marathons exist.

Bye.


The line "monday could be fun day" is from my Fee Comes Fourth tune All I Wanna Do (Wanna Dance) - July 4th 2013

"Then The Roof Blows Off"

Regular readers will remember a blog back in February where I described building a roof in preparation for the upcoming wedding of my eldest son Daniel to a lovely lady known as Susanna. And if you're really dedicated you would have read a few days later about how the roof blew off.

And it was all a bit too much. So I went and wrote a song. You know me.

And though the song in question wasn't written with Daniel and Susanna in mind, I would like to dedicate it to them as they look forward to next months wedding. Not that I'm predicting any roofs blowing off in their lives either literally or metaphorically. Nor wishing that on them. But the song is about being there for each other when Stuff happens that you weren't perhaps expecting.

And that is something I can predict. Unexpected stuff will happen in their lives together. A lot of it will be great stuff. Some of it won't. Whether that be external circumstances or personal relationship wise.

And what makes me very confident for Daniel and Susanna is that they are both people who, in their own different ways, will be there for the other when those moments happen. I know that of Daniel, because I watched him grow up. And I've seen enough of Susanna to know she will have Daniel's back.

I'm really excited for them. (Even if I wasn't, it would be impossible not to catch some excitement with Susanna around, because she has a severe dose of contagious exciteness).  I think they are perfect for each other.

So, we're not there yet, but here's to the two of them. To a wonderful life together.  Cover each other.


The line "then the roof blows off" is from today's Fee Comes Fourth tune Cover Me (A Little Bit Longer) - April 4th 2014

"Who Wants To Sing It? The Last Song Standing"

Gary Carey is a good friend and a songwriting craftsman. We met at a songwriting week about 9 years ago, and have been meeting up, along with the rest of a motley crew of songsters, twice a year for a few days ever since. The songwriting brought us together, but the friendships have kept us going.

He has recently released a CD of his songs called What's Not To Like? And the answer is: it took such a flipping long time to get it done. It's impossible for me to listen to the songs, as I did for the first time on the way back from our recent get together, and  disassociate the man I've come to know and love from the music. So I'm not going to try. Suffice to say that the music is as warm, generous, caring, wry, and humorous as he is. And this won't be a review from the "writing eloquently about music you hate" school of criticism.

Gary has an alter ego (Ryan Eyre?) in which his dirty-wicked humour comes out. On this album the focus is generally on the intimate side, warm and nostalgic, but never cloying. The first half of the CD is a collection of love songs that are almost from another era. An era where love was sincere, gentle, hopeful, and wistful. But also realistic.

What's Not To Like, the opener, is a lovely laid back, understated way of telling someone you love them. The antidote to "can't live if living is without you" music. Does that make it less romantic? Nah. More so.

Everything I'm Not is a simple plea to a partner. And we've all been there if we've been in a relationship lasting longer than 2 weeks. "Please, just let me be who I am, not who you want me to be". Did I mention that these are love songs with a realistic edge?

The Way I'm Loving You Now is as close as Gary gets on this album to pledging his eternal, undying affection with exclamation marks. Actually, it gets very close now I mention it. But sometimes that's necessary. I think I'm going to ask him about the inspiration for this one. She must be gorgeous.

The lovely countryish (I am incredibly bad at identifying genre's hence the tentative "ish") That'll Be Me is in the same vein as What's Not To Like. Gary hails from Oldham. It's not the most impressive town in the known universe, but it clearly breeds a kind of unpretentious, slightly cocky, laid back self confidence that I wish I'd possessed when I was a teenager. And although the man himself has recently left his youth behind, I suspect he had this back in the day.

That Girl's Gone is a  moving take on losing someone. And moving on. But not being able to forget. But not wanting to be reminded either. Ultimately it's about facing the facts of life...after the birds and bees have flown.

Which brings us to the second half of the album. I love the first half because it is like a warm cocoon of relationship familiarity. The rough with the smooth. The shared experience of "we've all been there".

But I like the second half even more.

I really doubt anybody has written a more sensitive song about the losses of war than Jamie's Coming Home. Gary has told me that this one was inspired by a newspaper article. If newspaper articles were regularly brought to life in this way then Fleet Street could still have a future. A lovely, poignant, compassionate tribute.

 By The River is a personal favourite from the album and, to my mind, an instant classic.  A beautiful, gentle gospel song about places of healing. The sort of place you'd perhaps want to visit if you'd known Jamie. Or simply if you've ever lived, loved, and lost. A place "where time smooths a pebble from every jagged stone, and peaceful waters flow". For me it really does have healing qualities. Brilliant.

Redemption Road hints at the inner rock god bursting to get out of Mr Carey given half a chance. A song about the search for forgiveness after being a complete eejut.  And "If mistakes were trees, we'd all be in the shade" is a fecking awesome line.

Have you ever wondered what happened to the promises we were given about our space age futures? Holiday's On Mars does exactly that in a Faith-esque foot pumping boogie with a touch of the Carey humour that his friends know and love. Very catchy. But as far as I know, unlike George Michael, Gary won't be found cruising public conveniences. He would like to cruise the stars though. If the people with the technology can be bothered to get their corporate fingers out.

And to finish it all is a song that I think holds a lot of nostalgic appeal for Gary personally. And for our songwriting collective. A lovely sing-along with a great message. Open Heart is about the way we should all be living. Not cynically, or ironically, or cautiously. But openly, expectantly, hopefully. And if anybody wants to argue with that, I'm up for the fight.

So, there we have it. My first ever Album review.  As should be clear, I'm a fan. Although Gary Carey is an incredibly able and eclectic writer this is not cutting edge music. But it wasn't intended to be. What it is is an album of extremely well crafted songs, with emotional punch and moving, sometimes brilliant lyrics. It is a place of shelter from the storms, providing reasons to  smile even in sadness. I think anybody who gives it a listen will feel that they, like me, have found a friend. So do give it a listen here and contact him at his site if you want to purchase the CD. Recommended.


The line "Who wants to sing it? The last song standing" is from my Fee Comes Fourth tune Last Song Standing. You know where my site is. Go to Gary's instead. 

"Pretend That He Was Sick"

I've been a bad, bad, daily blog writer. No blogs have been forthcoming the whole time I was away, nor for the few days I have been back. I apologise. I have excuses, but they would sound like excuses.

Anyway. We're back. And with a few ideas about subjects to write about. The first set of inspiration has been listening to three albums during my journeying to and fro, from some of my songwriter friends. The ones I have been spending some time with recently. I hope to write some mini reviews of their albums over the coming days. Totally unbiased ones in which the friendship I have with each artist will have absolutely no bearing on my critiques. No sir. I'll be Mr Objective personified.

Also, as mentioned when I last wrote anything, we have the wedding of my eldest son coming up. That's quite a big thing which we'll be glad to get out the way...I mean, to which we are all looking forward immensely. Actually, it's going to be great. I never really enjoyed my own wedding day (it's all the attention, people commenting on my dress sense and fantastic haircut, the admiring glances as I was walking down the isle, you know the sort of thing) so it'll be good to watch Daniel suf...enjoy his own special moment.

Edit: Apparently it's the brides  day, and the groom is nothing more than a cake decoration.

So that's all to come. Also the Fee Come's Fourth tune will be with you in a couple of days. I'm getting a little bit radio friendly these days. Or so I've been told. It's quite scary. I fear that I may soon be heard singing  inoffensively, and sans quirks,  as you do your trolley dance around Tesco's. What a sad day THAT will be!

We're back on the wagon folks. If that's the phrase I'm looking for. It might not be, because I swallowed a silver spoonerism the other day. Anyway, keep popping over to this bloggy wagon if you would like. I hope you would.


The line "pretend that he was sick" is from my song Benny's Hallelujah off the album A Human Being.

"A Quiet Release"

Very soon the eldest of my sons will be getting married. 

But first I get away for a few days, very shortly in fact, for one of my favourite times in the year. I'm going to be writing songs, and unwinding, with a few songwriter friends down in England. 

Just recently, since the roof blew off, I haven't written a thing. I don't know where the time has gone. But I do know that I get very broody and restless if too much time goes by without writing a song. 

It's a magical thing to know that in a week's time I'll hopefully have  handful of new creations that could be making their way on to a Fee Come's Fourth slot. That's if the Songwriting God's be in a beneficent mood. 

So this has got to be short. I've a bag to pack,  a guitar to encase, and a journey to make. There are songs in the air.

Woohoo! 

The line "a quiet release" is from the song You Don't Have To Be Strong off my album A Human Being. 

"You Take The Sticks And Stones"

We have to look after the dog. Because Boy who looks after dog is away in Glasgow with other Boys for Stag Weekend of Oldest Boy before wedding next month. I am really not bitter that I, The Dad, wasn't invited along. Not at all. Even though it wouldn't be unheard of for Dads to go on a Stag do. No resentment here.

 And I'm not un-resentful because I'm not missing out on the chance to watch people dressed up as nurses taking their clothes off while I am inebriated. Firstly that sort of thing doesn't appeal to me anyway, and secondly it's not that sort of Stag do. Younger Boys are up there too, and their seniors are responsible and of good moral fibre. Therefore paintballing and ten pin bowling are where the Stag is at. At least that's what I've been told. There is a picture up on Facebook though I will concede that could be part of an elaborate cover up. Anyway, I'm choosing to believe the story.

But stuff them. Back to the dog.

I know there are many, many people who LOVE dogs and the doggy world. The dog, Marley, who we are looking after is a nice dog really. A black labrador with THE most gentle eyes, and a beautiful coat.

But I really don't like looking after the mangy rat. I think it could be the 25 years and counting of raising 9 children that has done for me. Marley, though over a year old, is technically still a puppy. And he is trainable, because I spent a fair bit of time training him in the beginning. Even in a relatively untrained state (he's lost most of the obedience I taught him) he isn't bad. But it all just requires so much time and attention. Walks. Not nice pleasant walks, but constantly Throwing A Stick walks. Calming The Woofing at visitors. The picking up of pooh. It really is like starting parenting all over again. And I really can't be bothered.

So it is good that Dog Boy actually looks after him without any help the majority of the time. These odd days and weekends are the exception, not the rule.

In the meantime, I have decided to run for the position of First Minister in the soon to be independent Scottish State. And when I reach that position I will outlaw all dog keeping, except for  work dogs, dogs for the blind, and possibly dogs for anybody who lives on their own, assuming they can't be fobbed off with a budgerigar.

I will also make a law which requires Dad's to be invited along to Son's Stag Do. Even if they really didn't want to be invited anyway.


The line "you take the sticks and stones" is from the Fee Comes Fourth song You Hurt So Good - September 4th 2013

"When The Boy Became A Man"

I don't particularly like the entrapment tactics of Facebook, but I still think it is the most democratic media on the Worldwide Webnet.

One thing I like is the fact that age doesn't really matter. I've read stuff by people who are far younger than me, and who have a far better grasp of language than I do, and often an incredibly mature and/or insightful attitude. But I really only notice their age in passing.  Or their sex or background. What matters is the words.  The ideas. And I can be opened up by those wherever they come from. And sometimes I am humbled and realise that I'm not as smart or able or wise as I'd like to be.

Which is good. Plenty of reason to stay alive when there's still a long way to your destination. As I get older I'm actually getting more hopeful about the future. Not particularly my future. My moods are too variable. But I think, on a world wide scale, that the people with the good, creative, constructive ideas are going to beat the numpties.

You heard it here first.


The line "When the boy became a man" is from the Fee Comes Fourth song Big Dream, Little Dream - February 4th 2013

"You See The Light Of God, I See Somebody Losing"

I wouldn't describe myself as a humanist. Just a human. But this description of The Meaning Of Life for humanists sums it up as well as anything does for me.

http://www.upworthy.com/if-you-ever-wondered-what-people-who-dont-believe-in-god-actually-believe-you-should-watch-this-am2-5d

I like Stephen Fry. He comes from a privileged background, but has battled with life problems, being gay in a still sceptical, though slightly more welcoming world,  having suffered from quite deep depression, and being generally too clever for his own good. But to my mind he comes up smelling of roses. I love his program QI too. It lives up to it's name...Quite Interesting, but goes that little bit further. I like understatement. Much rather see a down-played entrance with a fantastic outcome, than a hyped up intro leading to a let down. QI has been a lovely, funny Friday night wind down for me.

Stephen is in the avidly anti-religious camp. I think a lot of people from a non-religious background actually shoot a lot of red herrings (or whatever the proverb is) in their attempts to make some really quite sensible points in regard to religion. Sometimes Fry does that too, despite being a very sensible chap. But I totally understand why he would  have Fry-ed Chips on his shoulder. Gays have suffered immensely, and still do, at the hands of misguided religious prejudice cloaked in supposedly God ordained authorisation.

And to be honest the battle for the righteous treatment of homosexuals is far from over. Even a more enlightened, compassionate Evangelical church is using a whole heap of mental and semantic gymnastics when trying to practise that compassion with a confusing belief that people who don't feel the same sexual urges as them are still going against God's will. "I love you, but not your sin". And then there is the horrific and open prejudice of some churches in parts of fundamentalist America, and whole countries in Africa (the unwelcome fruit of western missionary fervour.) And then again the muslim world where often, if anything, the attitudes towards gays are even more horrific.

So QI and Stephen Fry's lordly presence, is a beacon of hope but not a sign, by any means, that justice, equality, and freedom of self expression are on the universal horizon.


The line "You see the light of God, I see somebody losing" is from the Fee Comes Fourth song Devotion - April 4th 2013

"Touch Me If You Are Out There And Equally Lost"

I write quite a lot of words one way and another.

I don't write them to myself. I'm usually writing them to someone, even if, as is the case with this blog, I don't know who that person or persons might be, on any given day.

Today I feel lost. It's been creeping up on me. I seem to be very bad at real conversations, even though I've been under the impression that I am OK with words.

I really don't want to be spouting words. I'd rather have conversations. And I appreciate the people who have talked to me and "liked" me. Whatever you've said.

Think that's all I've got today.


The line "Touch me if you are out there and equally lost" is from the Fee Comes Fourth song Sometimes I Cry - November 4th 2014

"You Got Hundreds, I Got Thousands"

Well, in a short while, Fee trivia lovers, I will be off to the CO-OP to spend £80. Because IF I spend £80 I have a receipt which guarantees that they will give me £8 back.

It isn't a bad deal, but I have to do it now. This day. March 19th 2014. If I do it tomorrow, March 20th 2014, I will not get £8 back on the £80 I spend. Which would probably mean I wouldn't spent it. 

Hmm. Am I at the mercy of CO-OP in this matter? I mean, it's not hard for me to spend £80 on provisions, given that there are 8 members of this household at the moment. Just one member can manage to snaffle £10 in no time at all. And also I personally prefer to shop at CO-OP though my good wife prefers The Tesco. I despise The Tesco (not it's lovely staff I hasten to add, but the company) though I am not precisely sure why. CO-OP for some reason, is a purer entity in my head. 

But all the same, I am being coerced just a little bit. Perhaps I wouldn't spend anymore in the long run anyway, but if CO-OP  really wants to reward my custom, perhaps they could consider giving me random money, after random bouts of shopping. This would make me even happier than the present system, in which I have to keep hold of a very perishable piece of paper AND beware of the date AND try to time my £80 shopping trip needs with that date. Random gifts of money, in comparison, would feel wonderful, and would almost guarantee my return. 

As a side note to all of this I would like to report that after many, many shopping trips I am somewhat of an expert at guestimating the amount of shopping in a trolley WITHOUT even adding it up as I go along. I can just look and KNOW. Last 2 trips I was within £1 of the correct amount. One was slightly below resulting in the quick addition of a bar of Cadbury Dairy Milk Chocolate to the list. Shame. If I'd been a bit more out I could have justified a bottle of red. 

The line "You got hundreds, I got thousands" as well as being bad grammar is also a line on my Fee Come's Fourth song Have Your Cake And Eat It - September 4th 2012

"This Whole World Just Seems To Pass You By"

There is one thought that almost always hits me right between the eyeballs whenever I visit new places. It is this:

A whole world has been carrying on, day after day, without my awareness. And that is happening all the time, everywhere, even in the places I do know. An almost eternal millennia of experiences, interactions, conversations, interruptions, imaginings, workdays, Sundays, holidays, good days, bad days. And I know nothing about them. I am dead to those worlds.

But when I do have that thought, it makes me curious. It makes my imagination spark up. It makes me hungry for more new places, and experiences, and interactions of my own. And this might look like a distracted discontent with the world I do know. I don't think it is that though. I think it's about the search for life, and the battle against stagnation. It's about sucking that marrow till it's bone dry.

It's one reason why I don't want to spend too much time dwelling on past moments. And I think the best storytelling whether it be in conversation or song, in poem, or novel,  painting or photograph, doesn't merely capture its subject. It attempts to release it. To make it new and inspiring and a catalyst to new experiences and new moments.

I have only ever written one limerick. It's a silly thing. But it reminds me of one moment in time on a Hebridean island with a friend from afar. It's a gentle, smile inducing memory. And it makes me want to live for more of those times. But differently. So...

There was a Doctor from Persia
Who discovered the cure for inertia
He visited Gigha, got some cows up the rear
And the weather it couldn't have been worser.


The line "This whole world just seems to pass you by" is from my song Hey Jean which was almost, but not quite, released on my album A Human Being. But it will have it's day.

                                             Gigha

                                              A Cow

A Doctor From Persia (Clue: not me)

"I Am Standing On A Mountain High"

I'm trying out some trainers that mimic barefootedness without the bare feet.

Yes. I'm going back to nature. It's only a matter of time before you start to hear rumours of the hare-lipped hiker wearing nothing but a guitar on his back and his heart on his sleeve. That'll be me.

Hmm. Well, it might be a marketing edge, who knows. But I really am using those shoes. I'm trying to get back to the original gait we allegedly have as young children, and we used to have as adults too, before the fairly recent advent of thick heeled shoes, which involves far more weight on the forefoot, and far less stomping on the heel. The latter has lead, research has shown, to a lot more stress injuries. And I'm a sucker for a bit of research.

So walking up The Hill is actually a bit harder at the moment. Simply because I'm using muscles in my achilles and shin that weren't getting much of an outing. But the shoes provide protection to my feet, without stopping me walking or running naturally. And it feels good.

I've always hated running, but I think I'm going to enjoy, at least a little bit, running in a more bare-footed style. I had a sprint up a slope and that felt good too. Just the strength in the muscles needing to adapt.

You may think this is all yet another middle age thing. And you might be right. I'm 50 next year, and I want to run the Kintyre 10km next May. Not because, as I said, that I like running. But simply to mark it in some way. Trying to get all The Boys to run with me. Don't know if they will. Doubt I'll beat 'em. I'll be trying. It's a goal.

And now I've made it either a bit tougher, or possibly, a bit easier, with this Bare Footed thing.

The Kenyans Can. Maybe I can too.


The line "I am standing on a mountain high" is from my unreleased song Bone Dry. 

Fee Comes Fourth

"I've Come To Appreciate"

Is it possible to fritter away an unlimited resource? Eyebrows have been raised.

Well, technically no. But Fear has been known to blind us. It can make us live as though The End Is Nigh. Hypochondria, and I've had mild outbreaks, causes us to focus on the unknown "maybes" to the point where we spend our time thinking only of dark, negative outcomes. And life ceases to be full of possibilities but becomes a rain-soaked wait for the final bus.

Life isn't limitless of course. But imagine if it was. Imagine if we KNEW it was. Imagine the focus we could give to each and every day IF we knew that we had all the time in the world. That, of course, was the theme of the film Groundhog Day in which Bill Murray's character Phil Connors, faced with endless repeats of the same 24 hours, finally learns to use them wisely.

But it could have gone another way. For a while it did. For a while Connor was gradually overcome with a fear of Eternity, leading to  hopeless despair, leading to him fruitlessly trying to take his own life. Fear leads to frittering. Albeit pointless frittering in the presence of an unlimited resource.

So Phil Connor kept waking up. But the trouble (or troulbe, as it is sometimes known) that an eternal future caused him,  gradually turned into potential. Potential for a new start, a new life, a new day. Potential to focus COMPLETELY on one thing at a time. And he ended up, among other things, making some beautiful ice sculptures, winning the love of a lovely lady...

...and becoming a good human being.

What a way to live. As though we were always going to wake up tomorrow. A way of being. Hopeful, grateful, concentrated living replacing the Fearful Fritter.

Life as though The End had been obliterated.


The line "I've come to appreciate" is from my unreleased song Great Escape. Released songs can be found at Fee Comes Fourth.

"Give Me A Sweet Cacophony"

I like the sound of words. Together. 

Sweet cacophony. Mmmm. I don't know who invented the word "Sweet" (someone invented it!) nor the word Cacophony. I wish I'd made that one. And I'm not even sure if the inventors would have liked their words to be joined together in holy matrimony. But fortunately they don't have a say in the matter. 

Nobody does. There is no courtroom that can rule against the usage of words or the order they can be put in. Well, there is libel I suppose. But that's not about the words themselves. It's the context and the timing and the audience that matter for those sort of judgements. 

Words are there to be played with like a box of lego whose pieces can be made to fit together in any way the imagination can conjure up. They are potential pieces of art. In fact they started off as actual art, the first art, as far as I understand. Pictures, used as symbols, that eventually got turned into letters. And by then the possibilities were endless.

They say that a picture can paint a thousand words. But if you put a thousand words together, you could have a hundred or more little paintings: 

She smelled like the ocean. 

The alarm clock rang it's hyena laughter, shaking awake the sleeping, dreamless vultures. 

February is a short month, packed full with romance and pancake making . 

The letters can be put together in any order too. But they are lifeless without words to contain them, and shape them, and send them on their way to heaven. 

I'm not always particularly careful, or artistic, or poetic, or imaginative with words. Which is a crime really. 

Words might well be our only limitless resource. I really don't want to fritter them away. 

The line "Give me sweet cacophony" is from the Fee Comes Fourth song Have Your Cake And Eat It - September 4th 2012

"I Forget Why I Began This Journey"

So, I do recommend The Railway Man. It's not a particularly easy watch, but beautifully acted and very moving. Like 12 Years A Slave, it reminds me, in a way that I would more often prefer to forget, that human beings are capable of hurting each other very brutally and very directly. But the strongest message is about reconcilliation.

Today though, despite trying, I'm not feeling up to the task of talking about the difficult questions that the film raised. Maybe it would be better for me to write a song about them. What I like about songwriting is the challenge of trying to strip away all the unnecessary clutter surrounding a subject. The information. The emotional NOISE, When I write prose, as I am writing now, it is very easy for the words to multiply. Or become stilted or complicated or preachy or analytical. Or just plain bad.

But when writing songs the focus, for me, is not on the meaning. It's on the emotional ESSENCE the music behind the meaning. The left brain gets switched off, at least until the editing stage, and the whole process is more of a journey, an adventure, an exploration, to an unknown destination.

Which is not to say that the meaning isn't important. Only that the meaning is a place I am travelling to while writing the song, not a building I am trying to construct, carefully, logically, with a set of plans, and with a firm grasp of engineering.

I'd like to write these blogs in the same way. The songwriting way. Sometimes I can. But you'll have to bear with me. It's a work in progress.


The line "I forget why I began this journey" is from my unreleased song It's My Car. Released songs can be found at Fee Comes Fourth

"That's What True Lovers Do, It's An Art"

I'm off to the cinema tonight. To see The Railway Man. It's a love story, and I'm an ageing romantic.  So no spoilers please.

Actually, these days the pre-film Trailers ARE the spoilers. It's often more like watching a summary of everything that happens. For instance, I already know that the film I am about to watch in half an hour is about a story that happens during the second world war, and the present day. It involves a man to whom bad things happen in a prison of war camp, who subsequently suffers great mental turmoil, who plans revenge against his previous captors, and that probably he comes to a place of being able to forgive his persecutor. Woven into all this is the love story.

I get all that simply from watching the trailor. And to be honest, it's more than I want to know, but rumour has it that the film is very good, with or without those pesky trailers.

So, got to go and get ready. Spruce myself up. It's one of the few times me and Ineke manage to get out together at the moment.

Speak more tomorrow. Sorry about the missed blog yesterday.


The line "That's what true lovers do, it's an art" is from next months Fee Comes Fourth song called Cover Me (A Little Bit Longer)

"A White Dove Flies In With The Starlings"

Evolution For Dumb Animals Like Me.

I want to try and get a grip, for my own benefit, but also for some of my Christian friends and relatives, the one's in denial about scientific evidence,  of my understanding about the theory of evolution and how it impacted on my journey through Life. And why it is important. It might not interest you in the slightest, but feel free to come along for this little ride if you like. Or simply to correct me.

In the scientific world the word "Theory" means, to put it in my own words, "The best explanation available at this moment in time. One that has been thoroughly criticised and tested, taking into account all the observations, and calculations and logic that can be mustered by puny human beings". It doesn't mean an educated guess. The two things are very different. Scientist's DO make educated guesses, but those guesses don't constitute a theory. They are merely ideas that needs to be tested.

There was a day when I believed the bible to be the Word of God but had also come to realise, after reading Darwin's The Origin Of Species, that the theory of evolution was not in fact an idea that was invented to attack and  dispense with my faith in God, but simply a well reasoned method of explaining the process of how organic life (as opposed to the fabric of the universe,  earth, the planets, the stars) had come to be the way it was. Again, two very different realities.

So I was trying to reconcile my faith and science. And I wrote a poem at the time, though it is long lost, questioning why it was possible to believe the words of Jesus: "For I tell you that from these stones God is able to raise up sons of Abraham", but not be "allowed" to believe that God could cause humans to evolve from lower life forms...famously, from monkey's. Human's from stones? Yes! From Monkey's? NO!

Huh! Why? I just couldn't imagine God sitting there thinking, "You know, this turning stones into humans thing. It's a doddle. But I just can't seem to get these goddamn monkey's looking the right way."

These days, long after Darwin, the process of evolution has been demonstrated again and again. I wasn't there at those demonstrations, and I don't pretend to understand the whole shebang, but there is an AWFUL lot of evidence to say that they happened, and that they prove the evolution hypothesis even more thoroughly than Darwin did. They show the way some members of species develop physical adaptations which, if beneficial in their environment, often lead to them being passed on down the generations. These little adaptations have been witnessed happening. They happen all the time. And trillions of little adaptations, over thousands, then millions, then hundreds of millions of years, add up to the sort of crazy sounding stuff that demonstrates...as conclusively as these things ever can be in the scientific world...that we have VERY GRADUALLY evolved from the tiniest of life forms. From Amoeba to A Me.

As a Christian this struck me as amazing. It made so much SENSE. God stopped being a Magician behind a Magic Curtain who waved a Magic Wand and made everything appear. She became an Artist, a Potter, who slowly, patiently, touched and waited, and nudged and waited, and caressed, and looked, and pondered, and breathed life in a wonderful and infinitely varied direction. Even if that only involved designing the first seed of life which held within it this Multi-Life potential.

In other words it enhanced my faith. And my reasoning. And the fact that I no longer actively believe has absolutely nothing to do with evolution. So it makes me very sad that some of my Christian friends and relatives feel duty bound, with a little bit of a push from some self deceiving, possibly charlatan, "scientific" authors, to try and deny and discredit the Science story. Or, if asked to  look at the evidence, suddenly say that it really doesn't matter  HOW life, our lives, came about.

But it does start to matter when faith files for divorce from reason. There are plenty of believers who manage to reconcile faith and reason in a way which doesn't make their faith look like a badly drawn cartoon.

We don't have to be at war with the observable world. One way or another, we are designed for living in it.


The line "A white dove flies in with the starlings" is from the Fee Come's Fourth song Be Still (My Beating Heart) - May 4th 2013 

"When I Was A Little Boy, They Took Me To A Place"

Nothing worse than unwanted preaching. The kind that you do when you're trying to change someone into your own image. Like your children. Or your wife. It's hard for them to get away from it too.

Preaching is definitely a no-no in songs. Not if you want people to like them anyway. Songs are for letting people know that we're all in this together, whatever the "this" happens to be. 

But to be honest, preaching should be about letting people know that we're all in this together too. I grew up  listening to preachers. My Dad was a preacher. As well as an accountant. I've heard hundreds of sermons over the years including some really good ones. I even preached some myself back in the day.

Mostly, these days, I try very hard to avoid getting caught in a situation when I have to listen to one. But I think I've learnt a thing or two about the subject. And I can tell you that the best, the very best preaches, don't instruct, or pass on information, or tell you what you're doing wrong. The very best ones light a fire. 

One of the best Preaches I heard was actually a description of another fella's sermon. It was by a fiery italian/american guy called Tony Campolo. And he was describing a sermon by a black pentecostal preacher he'd heard which was based around one line. And that one line was repeated over and over: 

It's Friday, But Sunday's Coming. 

The sermon was based on the Christian belief that though Jesus was crucified on the friday, he rose again on the Sunday. And the whole message, and you don't need to be a believer to get a little bit of the impact, was simply, and I'm paraphrasing:

Shit might be happening to you right now, but, HALLELUJAH, that shit will pass. A new Day, SUNDAY, is just around the corner! 

It was about hope. 

So that was a really fiery sermon. More recently I heard one just as powerful, but  given by a quiet Church of Scotland fella at the grammar school prize giving. He bravely talked past the heads of teachers and parents and right to the hearts of the children, or at least to the heart of this particular child, about the value of "looking out the window and daydreaming" at school. About education being to do with far more than filling a head with knowledge of the way things are, but  instead allowing ourselves "wasted time" imagining how things could be. Word on the street was that he wouldn't be getting invited back. But I thought he was superb. 

No one needs to be TOLD stuff anymore. If we want information, we can Google it. But we could all do with a bit of inspiration. We could all do with being fired up to start wondering what Sunday might look like. 

                                           

The line "When I was a little boy, they took me to a place" is from an unreleased song called Believe. 

Nearly all my released songs can be found at Fee Comes Fourth

"We've Got Tonight, No More Tomorrow"

Some monk or other (and I realise I'm not  good at giving specific credit to the various sources I refer to) replied, on being asked what he would do if he was going to die tomorrow:

"I would still plant this apple tree".

Which was very forward thinking of him. Unless "he" was a nun. In which case it was very forward thinking of her. Anyway, I'm getting away from the point. Already.

And the point is that I suspect I'm still quite a long way from having that much perspective and wisdom in the presence of my imminent end. Or even if I was able to give the APPEARANCE of having such presence of mind I suspect I would be shaking inside at the same time.

Which I imagine is not abnormal.

But, you know, being honest about my totally understandable weakness in the face of death, isn't the same as saying I want to remain in subservience to that weakness.

I would like to be that monk. I would like to have a calmness and serenity when I approach the drop at that terminal Niagara Falls in my little coracle. I would like to enjoy finishing off my Sudoko puzzle as the water got a bit rougher, and noisier, and sprayier.

And that's why I talk about death quite a bit. Not because I'm morbid or obsessed. Particularly. It's simply that I like to practise the things that I want to get better at. So that maybe, one day, Fee can come third.


The line "We've got tonight, no more tomorrow"is from my unreleased song When The World Blows Up.


You will find most of my released songs at Fee Comes Fourth.

"Forty Two, Forty Two, Forty Two, Forty Two"

I found the books in the Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy series hilarious. If you've read them you'll know that the super computer Deep Thought was asked the question: What is the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe and Everything. After 7 1/2 million years Deep Thought produced the answer that mankind had been seeking so hungrily.

And the answer is Forty Two. Apparently  HitchHiker's author Douglas Adams had a lengthy discussion with some friends before coming up with the magical number which they decided was the funniest number in existence.

And I find both the number (in it's context) and the idea of the discussion that led to it very funny. Well it cracks me up, and though I'm not going to hold it against you if you're thinking "WTF is funny about THAT"  it is quite likely that some of my own weird attempts at humour might pass you by. I'm just saying.

The thing is, I'm the kind of guy who likes to roam around, and also the kind who is searching for the Meaning Of Life. But I have that famous British Self Deprecation Gene, and I realise that looking for the big answers can cause a person to become pretentious, anal, and self absorbed.

And those kind of characteristics need to be burst like a puss filled blister.

Which is why the number Forty Two is so funny. And it's lesson so important. It reminds us how, in the grand scheme of things, we are relatively speaking, tiny, silly, insignificant,  and quite weird creatures who don't really have very many answers. And all the best answers we do have always produce more questions.

 I think our ability to laugh...at our environment, our circumstances, our fears, our friends, and ourselves...is one of our most redeeming features.

Now I'm off for a bit of Deep Thoughting of my own. That or watch a bit of Saturday sport on the telly. Actually, probably the sport one.


The line "Forty two, forty two, forty two, forty two" is from my song Forty Two on the hard to find Lounging On Longrow album from the now non-existent Kintyre Music Cooperative. It will be re-recorded at some point.

Most of my songs can be found at Fee Comes Fourth

"Though We've Never Met"

Or have we?

I'm sure I've met some of the good peeps who are reading these little outbursts of almost daily words.
But I haven't met all of you. And that makes me happy. Not happy that I haven't met you, but that we can have contact, exchange ideas, cause laughter, or tears, or frustration to people who we don't know.

I once got to know a fella, in fact I still know him, who was, and still is, from Australia. In fact he's definitely read some of my bloggings. We met on a forum a few years ago. And though there are limitations to the depth of friendships and relationships that can develop online, I got to know him well enough to suspect that he wasn't a full bloodied psychopath. So I was reasonably confident that should I invite him to stay with us when he was travelling in Europe, that  my family and children would be safe for the week or two he was here.

And so it proved. We had a good time getting to know him better and I was able to proudly show off Kintyre to him. And he liked the Standing Stones and was amazed at how wet the ground seemed to be everywhere. Did I mention he's from Australia?

We went camping one very cold night, it was in February, and I remember an Owl flying low over my bivvy bag thinking what a very big, blue shrew I was, and deciding not to pounce. And that I was very under prepared, not having camped very much, and therefore very cold for a lot of the night. He seemed to be a lot less restless than I was during the night. I've heard they breed 'em tough in Oz.

And it's odd what pops into mind when you're writing a blog.

I just never know what I'm going to be talking about till I write it.

Today it was Mikel. Hi Mikel.


The line "Though we've never met" is from my Fee Come's Fourth song Crossing The Wild Lands - January 4th 2014.

"Well, I'm Not Messy, But I'm Not Neat Either"

At least, that's what I tell myself. I really do think that over many years of marriage and responsibility I have evolved into Homo Domesticus (Almostus).

I cannot really explain this phenomenon. I only know that as a single student my room was so cluttered that the spiders were complaining to the landlord. And that now, although I do still manage to clutter the joint, I am relatively speaking, a neatish person.  I am just as likely to be found moving things to their PROPER place, as I am to be leaving them lying around. In fact I have become at heart a wannabe minimalist who would love, if I could find a legal way of getting rid of all the children, to live a simple life. With a chair. And a plate. And a knife and fork. And not much else.

It is known for me to TELL the children to move THEIR stuff. OK, I do get a bit of the old hypocrite's guilt as I recall the look of horror on Ineke's face when she saw my student pad. But I tell them anyway.

And connected to this I have come to love efficiency, as though my Saxon  genes had, after many years buried at the bottom of my personal gene pool swamp, managed to fight their way to the surface. So if a thing is worth doing (because if you don't do it you will be feel that remorseless stab of Procrastinator's Stitch under the rib cage) then it is worth doing once. And only once. Why would you want to repeat an activity, other than the pleasurable ones, when the repeating of said activity could have been avoided by careful planning.

So I think I have made my case. I am a New Man.

The only fly in the ointment?

It's very frustrating, but Ineke will tell you that I am still a right messy pup. She is the proverbial hard nut to crack. And I would try harder to crack it, but have you noticed what a mess cracked nut shells make?


The line "Well, I'm not messy, but I'm not neat either" is from this month's Fee Comes Fourth tune, Cleaning Out The Shed.

"Cleaning Out The Shed"

So, today's Fee Comes Fourth tune? It's about an old fella who has been grieving for a while. For the lady who was the love of his life, though he would never have described her like that. To anyone really, but definitely not to her.

And, like many emotionally repressed folk of a certain disposition, dealing with the grief wasn't easy. The biggest helps, and possibly the biggest avoidance tactics too, were the regular pints at the local. It was that or the shed at the allotment. And the shed at the allotment seemed too lonely a place. He needed company, he needed distractions, he needed...not to think about her.

But at the end of a night of drinking with the pals, there's still the long, zig-zag walk home. To an empty house. And that walk was where the all the haunting happened. That was the time when his booze addled brain had no control over her presence. When she'd slip in and out, more in than out, like a swallow making dozens of visits to the nest, with a mouth full of midges for the chicks.

That walk was bitter mainly, occasionally bitter sweet. But it was also the time when he could start, subconsciously, and without any knowledge of  strange other-language manifestations such as "Grief Psychology", to process and make sense of and cry for his life with her. And for the rest of his future without her.

And one night he remembered a picture, a silver framed picture, of them together when she was a sweet heart and he was a Jack the lad. And he knew he had to find it...


The line "Cleaning Out The Shed" is from TODAY'S Fee Comes Fourth tune called...Cleaning Out The Shed. It was co-written with Gary Carey and Gerri McManus.

"Letting The Light In"

Haven't written any poetry for a long while. Decades in fact. But I got the urge just now. It flowed, rustily, and I think that these words are me trying to say something about the vote for independence in Scotland this year. I happen to think it's a very important moment, and one that we should not just stumble into. And though I have become profoundly in favour of independence, I'd far rather people voted No than let the moment pass by, like a thunderstorm from under the covers.

Letting The Light In

When the window of opportunity reveals curtains open wide
It's one way, but not the only way, to let the light in.
But it's the crimes of omittance that imprison a life,
And the sin of procrastination,
Of cowardly hesitation,
That leave a nation
Holding on
To the apron strings
Of destiny.

When the chance comes to cast a vote with pride
It's one way, but not the only way, to let the light in.
And it's the missed opportunities that breed regret,
With the final destination
For aborted gestation,
Being alienation
From ourselves
And an attachment
To tyranny.

When the moon is full and pulls strong for a high and surging tide
It's one way, but not the only way, to let the light in.


The line "Letting the light in" is from TOMORROW'S Fee Comes Fourth tune, Cleaning Out The Shed. Don't forget to get your free download!

"And Your Face Is The Fallout"

Yesterday I happened upon a police car using the bottom of our drive (which we share with some council offices) as a location for their speed trap.

I had spotted this happening once before, and decided that I wasn't happy about them doing it. So I spoke to PC Driver "I don't want to spoil your fun, but this is our driveway". He said "Well we're on police business, but if you're saying you don't want us to be here...". And I finished with something lame like "Well, I'll leave that up to you, you're the Police"smiled and walked off. I don't know when they left, but they had left when I came back.

And I don't know why I'm telling you this. Except perhaps that I had always felt quite intimidated by "authority" figures in the distant past. And I have always hated conflict. And although I still felt a little bit of tension when I was talking to this guy, it really wasn't that big a deal.

I'm glad I'm relatively comfortable doing that kind of thing these days. Because I happen to think that challenging the Status Quo (and having watched their supposedly FINAL gig at Milton Keynes Bowl over 30 years ago, I feel very strongly about this) is one of the most important duties we have as citizens.

It is a nice delusion we might sometimes tell ourselves, if we haven't happened to grow up in Stalinist Russia, or Nazi Germany, that WE would  never  let  Bad Men Or Women get anywhere near power. WE would have made a stand against them.

But the truth is that none of the really BAD guys will ever get anywhere near power by walking on to The One Show and announcing: "I feel the way forward for our country is to carry out a purge against all the Poles and Romanians and  the Dole-sters and the Gays and anyone who disagrees with me".

Nope it happens gradually. By stealth. Which is why my little rebellion yesterday was one small step for me, one giant leap for liberal democracy. Oh yeah!

The line "And your face is the fallout" is from my song Fallout off the album A Human Being.

"Everybody's Favourite Alien"

I've never seen the movie Alien or it's sequels. I didn't complete Nelson Mandela's autobiography for some reason. Not been to a World Cup match. I haven't visited Madam Tussaud's. I've never been to Italy. Or Scandanavia. Or the USA. Or Peru. I haven't managed to see the Aurora Borealis yet. I haven't read Wuthering Heights. Or listened to a Kate Bush album all the way through. I haven't seen Paul McCartney in concert. I haven't ever sailed on a boat with sails. I haven't swum with dolphins. I haven't walked up a Munro. I haven't flown on a Sea Plane. I haven't knowingly seen a Golden Eagle. I've never run a marathon. Or gone diving with a tank of oxygen on my back. I haven't seen the Pyramids in the flesh. I haven't walked to Iran yet. I haven't had a hit single. I haven't been to an Olympics event. I haven't Skied on snow.

And I haven't got anything remotely interesting to say today. But I had to say something because I'm under oath. Please accept a refund on the way out. Thank you.


The line "Everybody's Favourite Alien" was chosen by Ineke Fee and is from my unreleased song of the same name.

"Watch The Sunrise Kiss The Ocean Breeze"

Machrihanish on a crisp, clear day in winter is quite spectacular. The waves rolling in off the Atlantic and the feeling of space and wildness. And that's just sitting, supping a pint of Guinness, in the Beachcomber Bar (well that's what it used to be called) looking out over the first tee of Machrihanish Golf Club. A first hole which is allegedly in the top 18 holes worldwide of the legendary golfer Jack Nicholas. Not that I play golf, but it's always useful to know a good place for tee.

I was waiting while one of The Boys had an interview at the fairly recently opened, upmarket, Ugadale Hotel. He's been offered the job, which is good as he is pretty desperate to earn some money and get back to Peru at some point this year, where his girlfriend is waiting patiently. I'm sure Peru is lovely, and I'm sure I'd be eager to go back if there was a special person wanting me to, but really, on days like this, I don't know why anyone would want to live anywhere other than here in Kintyre.

Blues skies have a wonderful habit of whisking away the rainy day memories. I think that's pretty hardcore science. We are wired for  dealing primarily for today and the future. Even  the most miserable, depressive, whiny, individual (don't all point at me now) manages to forget more than they remember about past negative experiences. It's a matter of survival.

Nostaligia...thinking affectionately, and longingly about the past...is associated with old age. I would say it is useful to reflect on times past at any age, but I don't really want to spend too much time doing it right now. There is still a Life to be Sumo-Wrestled to the ground, ransacked of all it's available LifeNess, and then discarded like a sweaty Sumo loin cloth.

Hmm. I seem to have wandered a little bit from sunrises kissing ocean breezes. Better stop before I give anybody nightmares. Have a great weekend. Even those of you who have  got to go to work.


The line "Watch the sunrise kiss the ocean breeze" is from my Fee Comes Fourth song Table Mountain - March 4th 2013.

"I'm Searching For The Common Thread"

And not because I've taken up sewing.

Though that would be a useful skill. But links and connections make me tick. I think that comes from having felt alienated from the world for a long time. A lot of people, I won't say everybody, feel like there is something a little bit Alien about them. Even if the only time that feeling is experienced is during adolescence.

Anyhow, I've had that feeling with a vengeance for as long as I can remember. When I do get the feeling of connection it is always a joyful experience. Quite rare, but perhaps that's the lot of someone who spends too much time writing songs. I remember the first time I played The Kintyre Songwriters Festival at the ripe old age of "over 40". And people listened to my songs, to me singing my songs, and enthusiastically applauded. And that felt like a connection to me. I felt just that little bit less of an alien.

And I'm pretty sure that works the other way. People listening to a song that sound something like the way they experience the world causes a connection. A little nerve system explosion. At least I hope so.

I love the analogy of cells in the human body. The way in which there are millions of them, and lots of different types of them, and none can really manage without the others. Some cells travel around in a whirlwind connecting with all sorts of other cells. Some stay in the same place and do a job, while connecting with only a few others. But all of them are connected.

That's why I think the Internet is such a positive thing, for all its detractors and detractions. It helps to keep us connected, and to be aware of all the possible connections.

And BTW. The common thread is you.


The line "I'm searching for the common thread" is from my song The Common Thread off the album A Human Being.

"I Can't Easily Describe"

It's tough putting words to thoughts, feelings, and experiences. It's a creative act whenever we do it. When we get beyond "How are you? "Good, thanks". It involves dredging, sifting, examining, analysing, framing, choosing. And building. Building a construction that somehow manages to express what is going on inside "me" to what is going on inside "you'.

Am I making it seem too complicated? Perhaps.

Recently I was listening to the banter between some fellas who were putting down a carpet in the house where I was staying. I was in my bedroom. They didn't know I was there. And the chat was relaxed, flowing, full of laughter, friendly, familiar. I felt a wee bit envious of the easy, natural feel of it all. And all the while they were expertly fitting carpets in complicated nooks and crannies. Amazing.

One fella was describing the experience of giving a  speech at a wedding for the first time, the previous weekend. His speech had gone alright it seems, but someone else who was speaking had frozen. That poor guy had to stop before he'd said what he wanted to say. The brain and speech have a funny relationship sometimes.

Conversation with friends can and should often stay on a fairly trivial level. The weather, sport, what we've been up to recently, and the funny, interesting or common place stories that result from those experiences.  I think that the seemingly trivial stuff is vital to life and our enjoyment of it. Nobody concentrates the whole time they are driving a car. It would be exhausting. Same with speaking. We need to be able to cruise on auto-pilot and give our brains a free ride a lot of the time.

But sometime's it's good to delve deeper. To give ourselves a word workout. If words are your thing, whether written or spoken, then you try and workout regularly and more intensively. But even if they are not your particular strength,  it's probably still good to give the Art of Describing a little bit of a walk around the block. Keep the cobwebs at bay. Use it or lose it as they say.

Although I suspect those Carpet Fitters might think I was making a shag pile out of a welcome mat.


The line "I can't easily describe" is from my next Fee Comes Fourth track Cleaning Out The Shed. Available for free next Tuesday.

"You're The Rock That I Will Cling To"

The Rock in question is Ineke, my exotic, foreign, Dutch wife.

I wrote this line, and the accompanying song, after a row over the phone when she was away somewhere up the road. Because she has been a rock, through all the 28 years of our sometimes  rocky marriage. I've got my strengths, but they tend to be mostly up at the creative, intuitive, wordy, imaginative...moody, temperamental, emotional, end of the spectrum. And though I sometimes make semi tongue-in-cheek remarks about our incompatibility the fact is that she is the paradoxical balance to the equation that equals: Us.

It hasn't been easy to live with each other. What with our different dreams, or lack of dreams, totally different perspectives, different ways of thinking, different most things. But the quality of Ineke that I have most appreciated is her Rock-ness. She has been as steady as a beautiful piece of chiselled granite (with me doing a lot of the unintentional chiselling) throughout our married life. When I've had my seasons of doubt, depression, and occasional despair, she has continued holding everything together, without any fuss really. Perhaps this sounds a little bit stereotypical. But it's what she does, and it is the kind of quality that too often goes unappreciated.

I appreciate it Ineke.


The line "You're the rock that I will cling to" was chosen by Eryn Fee, and is from my song A Human Being from the album of the same name.

"I'm Cleaning Out The Shed"

Or to be more precise, Clearing Up A Roof That Got Blown Off.  Not off of our house fortunately, but off the outside area I was building, as mentioned in the very recent blog "Here's A Good Place To Look At The View".

To start with I blamed the Yoof. We'd had an 18th birthday party for one of The Boys on Saturday. About 30 people came around and there was a certain amount of alcohol imbibing happening. And to be honest, the whole thing had seemed to go very well in the alcohol imbibing circumstances.

But when I saw the state of the roof, which was pretty much trashed, I put 2 and 2 together and made 18. I thought a group of them had sneaked out at some point and, for some strange reason, had wrecked my year and a bit of planning and hard work. I was upset. As mentioned in the blog, I had ideas for the place. Musical ideas. And it was part of plans for our son's wedding reception. In a brain fuzzled place I took the obvious step and rang the Local Nick.

Two nice, young constables came round. Least that was the impression they gave (of being nice that is) and though I've heard plenty of Police horror stories I'd prefer to give them the benefit of the doubt. PC, soon to be Detective Constable, Bill Smart (no actual names have been used in this account) observed, quite correctly, that it would have been very, very, difficult for a gang of yoof, in the dark, to cause the specific sort of Roof Movement as exemplified by The Roof in question.

So. The Wind it was. And my apologies to the Yoof, for my lack of trust in them. I'm usually telling other folk off for that. And apologies to the roof for not believing in the power of the wind as much as I should have. Not that we didn't take it into account, but hey, ho.

Anyway, it's not been a great day. The only positive outcome being that I've now got a new song called The Roof Blows Off (Cover Me). I don't hang around. Well, I do with the DIY, but not with the songwriting.


The line "I'm Cleaning Out The Shed" is from my next Fee Comes Fourth tune Cleaning Out The Shed to be released on March 4th 2014. It's a dance number.

"I'm Not Going To Heaven"

Well, probably not. Depends on so many things. Which particular subsection of which particular Faith have got the entry conditions right. Or if it exists. Some people are CERTAIN it does. I have quite a few doubts, but that's me. I suspect I'm a lost cause.

 Some of the more sensible religious guru's will say that it is better to simply get on with living the best life you can live, than trying to second guess God (if he or/and she exists and is into life after death). Which is quite the best way to approach these matters I think. Deal with the stuff that we can actually DO something about. There in lies the way to paradise.

 I don't think I would describe myself as a Belinda Carlisle-ist though. Heaven isn't a place on earth either. For a simple reason, neatly expressed by an old Christian truism aimed at those who travelled around trying to find THE best church congregation to be a member of. To them it was said by an anonymous saint (we'll call her Gertie): "If you find the perfect church don't join...you wouldn't want to spoil things would you?"

Gertie was right Belinda. Finding a perfect place on earth, in church or mosque, football stadium or music gig (not EVEN the Kintyre Songwriters Festival, though that's pretty close) is impossible because if you or I find it, Belinda, it's gonna get tainted immediately.

So, does that make me a killjoy who wants to, um, kill the joyful hope of those who think that there is something better, something perfect round the next corner, or the next life? No, it doesn't. I'm quite happy to live in a world where people have faith in things that cannot be seen. I'm quite happy to live with and love people of faith.

It's just that for me, the journey is the thing. This moment. And if I do or don't manage to extract and consume every last particle of Life out of it (which, more often than not, I don't) then it is my loss (and sometimes my wonderful gain). Nobody else's. For behold, I am the creator of Heaven, and I am it's Destroyer.

But there is always the next step to take. One more step. Just one more.

Hmm. Seems like I do have faith after all.


The line "I'm not going to heaven" is from my Fee Comes Fourth song Devotion - April 4th 2013

"I'm Not Going To Hell"

The idea of Hell is terrible. Despicable actually. Nothing to do with justice at all. It comes from the same people who brought you: Compulsory Schooling, Tesco, Walmart, Papal Infallibility, Original Sin, BBC Infallibility, The News, Slavery, Empire, The X-Factor, and The Bedroom Tax.

OK. Some of these people may be your employers. Which doesn't make you children of hell. YOU can bring a bit of life, and freedom and hope into The Fire. We've all been there. And on our better days we know that change is possible.

But, it is people who brought you the concept of Hell. Not God. And that is a hopeful thing. Because if it was God you couldn't do a thing about it. You would be subject to those rules. You'd either be in or out, regardless of the fact that you had absolutely NO choice in being here, on planet earth, in the first place.

But because Hell is a human concept, that means we have the ability to change the rules.

It would be a sin not to.


The line "I'm not going to hell" is from my song Devotion - April 4th 2014

"Here's A Good Place To Look At The View"

For someone who is not a great fan of DIY, and someone who is not very good at it, I think I have done more of it than anyone I know. Despite the protests. My protests. Despite the intentions to avoid.

I don't know how it happens, but it happens. And sometimes I don't even mind. Like today. I've been outside putting a roof on a large construction that used to be  home to two Snowy Owls. (The place where we stay is a part of what used to be the Scottish Owl Centre). We've already (me and Brian...a legend) put down a heap of decking. With a bit of help from The Boys at different times. And now we're putting a roof over it.

So I'm outside, on one of the better days we've had so far this year, knocking in roofing nails, which is something I can cope with. Simple and repetitive. And I can look out over Campbeltown Loch and Davaar Island and the famous Ben Gullion. And the only fly in the appointment is the slightly too loud industrial hum of Campbeltown Creamery. But that's being picky. Their cheese is fantastic.

The roof is not far off completion now. And we'll have an outside space who's first use (hopefully) will be for an outside reception at the wedding of my oldest son Daniel, to Susanna. And it is her Dad who started the Owl Centre, and she grew up there. Which is a nice little additional touch to the whole thing.

In the future I'm hoping to be staging little concerts there as well, for me, other local songwriters, and anyone else we can persuade. It'll be great. Outdoors but under cover. A good place to look at the view.  To relax. And let the music  drown out ALL the flies in EVERYBODY'S ointment.

PS. I smiled at a stranger today. But not before a stranger had smiled at me. I hope you succeeded in beating those dang strangers to it!


The line "Here's a good place to look at the view" is from my song You Don't Have To Be Strong on the album A Human Being.

"Return The Smile And Wait A While"

I don't want this to make you sad, but there was a time when I used to smile more. Ironically though, when I look back at the photo's, the smiley me seemed to happen a lot more during some of the more difficult times in  my life.

Here's a challenge. For me anyway.  And you too if you're in the mood.

Smile at a stranger tomorrow. Doesn't matter which particular stranger. Although a stranger who looks in need of the smile would be the best choice. And it doesn't matter if you have a reason to smile, but best of all smile without a reason. Why? Well, among other things, smiling is a good facial workout, I heard. And a smile gets passed on, making the world a happier place. Someone said that too. In addition, if you smile at a stranger every day you will increase your lifespan by 7 years.

I made that up.

Anyway, I hear you saying that you're not in the mood. Me neither. But I need to get myself in that mood. Same way that I need to get myself to the top of Ben Gullion, when I haven't managed it because of the miserable rain for a couple of weeks. It's getting out of the ruts. Getting into the habit of getting out of the ruts.

I saw 12 Years A Slave recently. To be honest, we've got a lot of reasons to smile. Freedom and no whippings being just two of them for most of us.


"Return the smile and wait a while" is from my song Bathing In The Moon. Which has been released on a local co-operative album many years old, called Mayhem On Mainstreet. But if you can find it, well done.

"In The Beginning You're Moving Slow"

You might be. But The Boys and me were speed freaks at the Go Kart track at Cambuslang. Which I suspect, after last year and this, has become a yearly fixture in the Fee calendar. Great fun. The feel of speed and Formula 1 competitiveness...and the chance to show the young ones that the Old 'Un has still got it. Oh yeah! I'm sure I didn't come fourth anyway...

In other news The Lego Movie, as well as being the best advert Lego will ever get, is also a fantastic bit of cinema. Funny, but  also quite inspiring. If you get the chance give it a shot. You don't need a child to go with you. Adults are allowed to attend unaccompanied.

And in yet another advert for which I am being paid NOTHING:  Premier Inn beds are as comfortable as Lenny Henry makes them look. As long as you get the Double Bed anyway. But remember, to make sure that the one child who always, always forgets something, doesn't forget something. Doh!

And finally, I have been measured up for a kilt. It's going to happen. I'm under orders to wear one for the oldest boy's wedding in a couple of months. And I don't even know if it's legal for a Sassanach to wear a kilt. Perhaps I shouldn't be revealing this in a public place. Hopefully there won't be too much "revealing" going on at the wedding either...better stay off the whisky on the day, I think.


The line "In the beginning you're moving slow" is from the song Pocket Dynamite co-written with Gary Carey.

"But You Ain't Heard Everything Yet"

Can I just say that it's hard to right a blog when people are listening to TV. I've tried it on an iPad, but you know those awkward touch keyboards. So the computer it is, in loud earshot of the telly. With the Simpsons on in the background. Which I like.  And now I'm getting distracted by Willie's really awful Scottish accent. I think a Scottish accent must be one of the hardest to pull off. I often have to tell English visitors to avoid doing bad, or indeed any, Scottish accents when they come to visit. 'Least not while I'm around. It's embarrassing.

The Simpson's is the kind of art that I aspire to. The stuff that will stay around on repeat on Channel 4 until the Universe is cold. And what's great about the internet is that, in theory, anyone can do art that's around for ever. Just doodle some graffiti on the endless web wall and let the Future be your judge. Because Web Servers are Eternal aren't they? I'm sure someone told me that.

So now anything you scribble on Facebook, for instance, could be discovered in 330 years time. And someone will read it and say: "Wow, that fella  really should have got more credit during his/her lifetime, and not had to wait till they were dead and past caring. LOL".

Anyway, the brains even more fuzzled now coz we've switched to Pop Channel. It's kiddie cartoons. Some are quite good. All of them are VERY loud.

The School boys are off school. Taking them up to Glasgow tomorrow, meeting with older Student boy, and then going for our yearly Go Karting. And then out for a night on the town. Oh, yes! The Counting House, Cineworld, Premier Inn...the works!

Must stop! Too much high pitched yelping in my poor old head. Glad I'm a little bit deaf.



The line "But you ain't heard everything yet" is from my song Frequent Disapproval - August 4th 2013

"Green Is The Colour Of Our Dreams"

That's "Colour" American readers. Colour.

John Muir, you may know, was a fella from Scotland who went to the US of A and dreamed, planned, and walked through the  open spaces of America. He is the founder of the vast  National Parks. Big tracts of open wild space that are protected from development. Where wilderness is encouraged and maintained. And that wasn't an easy battle to win in the States, or anywhere really. But John Muir believed that unreconstructed wild spaces are vital for our mental health and for our planet. For our future. I think he was right. Soon there will be a path across Scotland opening, The John Muir Way, in honour (that's honour) of his achievements.

Without visionaries like John Muir, our world would be a messier, more confusing, uglier, unhealthier place. Green is the nemesis of concrete. Our cities are amazing constructions, but without green they become soulless, lifeless, heartless places. The best ones manage to let Green be an inherent part of their structures rather than an afterthought.

I identify with dreamers like Muir. I have dreams of my own. I like to think we all do, even if sadly many of them get buried over time. Dreams about leaving the world in a better way than we found it. One day I'll tell you about my dreams.

Not today though. Today I just want to celebrate the colour Green. It keeps us sane. It's fresh as a pine forest. A natural pine forest, not those greedy man-made, life sapping Sitka deserts that take up too much of the Kintyre landscape where I live. It promises rest, and relaxation and protection. It tells us that water is around. It eases the mind. It sustains us.

If we don't respect Green though we end up suffering the consequences. Like when we destroy the trees in the hills, which used to drink the water and bring life. Instead, the hills become bare and the water  heads to the valleys causing destructive, misery ridden floods.

Or when we let our need for food cause us to turn the land into a desert. Like the Fertile Crescent of the Middle East. Which used to be a massive, life filled garden, until we invented the sort of agriculture that helped the human species expand, but perhaps also sowed the seeds of our destruction.

Expanding desert. We create it.

But when we stop looking for short term gain, we promote, and protect, and work with Green. Green is the colour of all our best dreams.


"Green is the colour of our dreams" is from my song Touching Green off the album "A Human Being"

"When I Surrender, The Dawn Arrives"

Despair is depression gone too far.

With depression the mind can wander to places. Places to unload blame. It can think. Not good thoughts, but thoughts. Thoughts can be guided. It can wander to a place of tears and a certain kind of release. Depression can be like a season that comes for a while and then goes. It isn't a pleasant experience but if held lightly, and with a guarded familiarity, it can be observed, like a bad storm from under a little bit of cover.

Despair isn't like that. Despair is being buried alive in a coffin. Every thought is a cul-de-sac without any room for a road. A dead end that snaps towards any tiny sense of a way out. If tears come they are dry. Searching for something, anything, to cry for. Despair is to a human being what desolation is to a landscape. And coming back from it, if you do, feels like a kind of miracle. Like playing Russian Roulette when all but one of the bullets is live. It's the success of not killing yourself. I wouldn't wish Despair on my worst enemy. I've been there once, and on the edge on several occasions.

This is useful stuff to know if you suffer from depression. Seriously. It makes it so important to not embrace the sorrow and sadness as though they are a part of yourself. They are not. They are sometimes the sirens of despair trying to lure you to a very dangerous place.

The good news is that we do have control of our thoughts. We can change the way we think. When we are in our right minds, we can learn to watch for the little signs that send us into depression. We can learn to watch the way our minds think and we can learn to mentally argue with the words of negativity and the resigned, listless attitude. We can talk to someone, not for pity, or to have our sorrow fed and nurtured. But to to receive support in the fight. We can simply distract ourselves with whatever it is that is capable of distracting us.

But sometimes, especially on the road to building new ways of thinking, we will still slip into depression. And sometimes that depression will  simply be a gentle sadness  reminding us that the world isn't always, or even often, right. And it can encourage us to make change for the better, not just in ourselves, but for the people and communities we are a part of. Which is good.

But don't let it hang around. Find ways of keeping yourself away from the edge. Please.



The line "When I surrender the dawn arrives" is from my song Sometimes I Cry - November 4th, 2013.

"It's Time To Make Your Great Escape" Part 2

Well, sequels are usually rubbish. But let's try anyway.

If you were reading yesterday I was talking about the fact that I've been, I mean become, committed. Oh yes. Strait Jackets and everything.

Committing to something involves passing the point of no return. If it turns out rubbish then...well, then it's too late. You've said it. You've done it. Fail!

Except I don't see it like that..

I write things, or say things that contain opinions about life, the universe and everything. And quite often I find that I change my mind. I'm sure I'm the only person in the whole of the universe that has experienced that phenomenon! But, I change my mind a lot.  I'm on a tentative search for Truth. And playing with words...in songs, in conversations, in blogs...is possible the biggest part of my own Truth Voyage kitbag. So I find that I say things which seem like a good stab at something that is true, and then, on reflection, decide that, in fact it was not so.

If you're still with me you may know that an important part of the Scientific Method (as I understand it, and I am no Scientist) is to RULE STUFF OUT. Ruling stuff out is an important part of getting to find out what stuff is in.

As I said, I'm not a Scientist. But I try to be a scientist. We can all be scientists. Little children are the best at it. Asking questions, questions that sound daft to us, and then readjusting their world view based on the answers they come up with. (I would like to have introduced a little child/parent conversational anecdote at this point. I've heard a million examples. But I never write anything useful down like a good reporter would and I can only remember "happenings" for a maximum of 24 hours. And that's pushing it.)

So I write songs, and I talk, and bloggity blog, to ask questions of life. Lost in my own Little Scientist Groundhog Day. To discover, to thrive, or simply to survive. And sometimes I wish I could use some of the tactics that other people use. Because the grass is always greener on the other fella's patch. Or simply not bother at all and live in joyful anticipation of the next episode of Holly Oaks. Why not? I'm not here to judge other peoples life journeys.

But there is, for me, no escape from this path. And it is a path. We've all got a path.

And now I'm off to meditate on a piece of string. It's just an experiment.



The line "It's time to make your great escape" is still from  my nameless, unreleased song.

"It's Time To Make Your Great Escape"

But there is no escaping from a commitment that you've signed. In blood. With yourself.

Basically I've tied myself up for a lifetime. No way out. First it was the songs on the fourth of every month. As you know I'm going to be doing that forever. Could I stop? Well, I could, but I can't. Not anymore. It's what I do. I know, you never know what the future holds, but come hell or high water (always wanted to use that phrase) I'm going to be bustin' a gut (and that one) to get a song out. Actually, most of the time it's fun, because it's what I love doing.

And the same with the wordy writey  bloggy thing. This. The plan is to do it daily. But I've just been away and missed a couple. I've got to find a way to organise that properly, and  I think I'll be a little bit merciful on myself with the "every single day" part. But still. I want to keep doing it.

All of this commitment to output raises a serious issue though. Quality control.

I find with the blog that there have been times when I've just had to Put It Out There without the proper time to edit. Same with the songs. I can do this stuff, but is the quality of the stuff going to remain at a standard that  I am happy with? And that my ENORMOUS reader/listenership is happy with. I really don't want to be talking to myself. I will do it, but I don't want to.

Time will tell I suppose. I'm of the opinion that doing a task over and over is one of the best ways of getting better at it. Certainly on the craft and technique side of the equation. Inspiration is a whole other beast. But waiting for inspiration to strike is, in my experience, a pretty certain route to stuck-in-the-mud immobility.

So, I'm going to go with this principle: get the boat moving and worry about the steering later.

And the boat is moving. No escape. Oh shit.



"It's time to make your great escape" is from an unreleased song of mine that hasn't got an obvious name even though it's been around for a number of years. Think I'll just have to record it, and see whether the right title emerges.

Fee Comes Fourth

"She Smiles And He Knows"

It's nice being able to communicate in  unspoken gestures. I often can't help talking even if I don't want to. A work colleague once told me that she knew when I was about to disagree with something because my right eyebrow would go up. So my face speaks. In fact it takes a lot of effort for me to do deadpan..

Words, as limited as they are, are our best way of being certain that we have accurately passed on a message. I doubt people would feel so relaxed on an aeroplane if they knew that the Air Traffic Controller  was passing on important flight information using body language. The body language is good for the big picture. A general idea about how people are feeling. Not for saying "Move to 25000 metres because you are currently in the flight path of a KLM 747 on route to Schipol".

I flew down to Bristol on Saturday to surprise a friend who was performing at a gig to officially release his album. I'm having a great time catching up with song writing friends. But before the flight took off I was already quite confident I was going to have a safe trip and a good time because the air hostesses were smiling when we boarded the plane.

Other information I have picked up during this trip without the use of words. Easyjet is better than Ryanair. Ukeleles are stronger than they look. And rain is wet everywhere.



The line "She smiles and he knows" comes from a co-written song called Dancing In Rio which my co-writers (Tina Pluchino and Rob Harris) are planning to get released soon, in time for the World Cup in Brazil. Or if we miss that deadline, the 2016 Olympics in Brazil.

"I Want To Sail Away On The Seven Seas"

Today I'm up the road...

I feel a sense of freedom when I head  past Westport beach and see Gigha off to the left as I travel the A83 away from home. I love surprises.   There is nothing more exiting than leaving Campbeltown and visiting somewhere that I haven't been before. The more unknown that can be packed into a journey the better. And Limited Knowledge is the best invention ever.  Along with BIG maps that give tiny clues to all the Different Stuff that could be out there. Mussels and beer under a bridge over the Bhospurus in Istanbul. Being treated like a King on news years day in Isfahan, Iran.  And closer to home, but still new, collapsing cliffs near Cleethorpes. John O'Groats and isolation. The size of the sky on North Uist.

A breath of fresh air.

 Coming home is the most comforting and re-energising of experiences. Driving or being driven by The Bus Driver back down the A83 after Tarbert on the way home to Campbeltown is  one of my favourite things. The changing sky over the Atlantic out past Northern Island.  Home to times with the family. Ineke. The boys bantering among themselves and joining forces to mock the Old Man. The Aqualibrium...The library beneath the swimming pool!  Friday night take-aways from The Taj Mahal, our local Bangladeshi. Bengullion, looking down upon us. Walking up or down Longrow and Mainstreet seeing faces that have become part of my life.

Bathing in the familiar.


I'm back on Monday, or Tuesday. Hopefully still be blogging while I'm away though.


The line "I want to sail away on the seven seas" is from my unreleased song Fog.



Fee Comes Fourth

"It Often Seems The Stones And Me Are Not Quite The Right Shape"

It: a deer a female deer. I saw one on the way up AND on the way down Bengullion the other morning

Often: I spend time thinking about the future

Seems: like the rain is making up for lost time. Perhaps I should build an Ark

The: meaning of life is

Stones: are useful tools for building a world dominating species

And: now for something completely different

Me: and my lovely wife have been wonderfully incompatible for 28 years

Are: you still reading?

Not: Oh :(

Quite: what is going on in my head is a mystery

The: answer is out there somewhere

Right: Right?

Shape: my hand and we'll call it quits.




The line "It often seems the stones and me are not quite the right shape" is from my song Eight (January 4th 2013)