Archive#1: Blob World, Anybody?
Part One
In June 2017 I went to the Mediterranean island of Ibiza for a wedding. It was not in party-party Ibiza, but at the quieter, more picturesque eastern end of the island. One of my wife's nieces was getting married, and the ceremony was overseen by a shamanic kind of guy.
Even before the current bug story descended on . . .
Blog#3: The Needle Man Cometh
Just a quick note, really....
This week. No surprise. It was my time; I was of the age.
The phone rang, twice - once while I was eating breakfast, once while meditating. Somebody keen to speak to us. A bit unusual, these days. Even "Hello, I've got a nice trustworthy Scottish accent, and I'd like you to buy some insulation from me"; . . .
Life Story#2: Call of the Wild
Part One
Just as the 1950s were exhaling their dreary last, so did one of the decade's more colourful progeny come of age. This was the rock'n roll tour, which saw a galaxy of the latest stars travel the length and breadth of the country, injecting high-decibel vitality into the normally tedious lives of British small-town youth.
. . .
Blog#2: Identity
Part One
Personal identity. The tags, labels, and badges that we wear. "This is me. This is who I am. This is what I like. What I believe. What I stand for." In the end, they all need to go in the bin...
'Identity' is a bit of a complex topic, it seems to me. On one level, it's vital: it provides a degree of personal knowing, of . . .
Life Story#1: Nice Little Boy
Introduction
This 'life story' section is not precisely a step-by-step life story as typically told. It's a bundle of A4 sheets of paper stacked on a shelf, where they have been for a while. Worked, then re-worked, and re-worked again.
They have made a couple of attempts at coming out into the open, but have failed miserably. It was . . .
Blog#1: A story so far...
Part One
Wednesday March 14th, 2020. Aberdeen, Eastern Scotland. I had travelled there the previous day to meet my wife, who was touching down at the airport, having been away in her native Colombia.
We had a day to spare before returning home. The morning was cold, crisp, clear - beautiful in the stark, austere way that Scotland . . .
