the belfry chronicles

10 years and a few days ago

2012-01-07T19:40:00.001Z

I quit smoking. I didn't tell anyone about it at first. Quitting was a frequent thing for me, and I figured people were bored by my attempts. Cravings came strongest when drink was involved, and readers of this blog and folks who know me can correctly ascertain that drink was frequently involved. Days would end with me thinking 'I didn't smoke today'. Those days then stretched into weeks until it

lost and found

2011-11-15T01:02:00.001Z

The sun's setting just after four at the moment. It pops its head up just before eight in the morning. At the moment. The former will get earlier and the latter later before the solstice and the days once again stretch themselves out of the dark ages. After eighteen winters in Scotland (give or take one or two) you would think the pervasive dark would have no impact, or at least less impact. But

central heating and nostalgia

2011-10-29T23:59:00.000+01:00

Last night the St Louis Cardinals won the World Series and today my flatmate turned the heating on. The leaves and lack of frost suggest that autumn has itself a few more weeks, but I'm suspicious. Already my thoughts have turned to winter, with all of November still to come. I crave stews and chilli and roasts and deep red wines that stick to the ribs and crunch like kindling mixed with dry

remembrance

2011-10-06T19:31:00.001+01:00

Santa brought my family its first computer on Christmas Day 1984. I was 8, though for some reason it feels like I should have been 7. It was a Macintosh 512, affectionately referred to as the 'Fat Mac'. We got a subscription to Macworld and a bunch of programs as well. My mom spearheaded the integration of this strange new machine into the household while my dad stood back and embraced the ways

mystery meal

2011-09-12T06:00:00.000+01:00

I've not seen a single mosquito since I arrived in France.I have seen several spiders, though none that would shake my proud defiance of arachnophobia. The occasional wasp has made an appearance. Well, more than occasional, as the unfermented grape must at harvest is perhaps their favourite meal. Ant spottings, especially in the garden, are not uncommon.To be honest, there have been a fair few

early morning airports

2011-08-24T08:01:00.000+01:00

Prestwick in the wee hours is becoming something of a familiar scene for me. The tortured breakfast buffet steams away; watery bacon, leather-coated sausages and fried eggs shaped like hockey pucks all await hungry travellers with scant regard for nutritional value. I shamefully acknowledge my own dietary crimes and settle into some of that watery bacon and leathery sausage. Yes, even the hockey

splattered

2011-08-23T22:12:00.001+01:00

I own a lot of t-shirts. They sit, folded with reasonable competence, in three piles, on the top shelf of my closet. Two of the piles are the t-shirts I wear regularly, pretty much everyday. Those are the two front piles and they're stacked high. The shirts in those piles are varied - some are beer freebies, many are Red Sox tees, and quite a few possess quirky graphics or phrases that appeal to

umbrellas and a sax

2011-06-19T12:39:00.001+01:00

The Red Sox were losing to the Brewers. The cat slept at the bottom of my bed, wrapped up in a ball on his side, breathing softly and occasionally uttering a sleepy grumble. I sipped a Sam Adams and watched as the Red Sox gathered hits but couldn't convert them into runs. I had my headphones on; it was about 2am. My phone refreshed my Twitter feed and I saw the news and the ballgame drifted away.

ice packs and jimmy buffett lyrics

2011-06-09T18:05:00.000+01:00

It's sunny today, in spite of the big rain clouds. There's an occasional shower, but it doesn't last. The breeze is a mere wheeze compared to the gales that have hit of late.With these things in mind, I stretched out this afternoon and went for a run. Town seemed reasonably quiet. There was the odd dog-walker on East Sands and a bit of traffic here and there, but not all that many folks. I was

edge of distraction

2011-06-07T15:05:00.001+01:00

I think the mackerel are back. I'm neither a marine biologist nor a fisherman, yet I feel confident in my hunch. Staring out my window to the steel-grey, wind-swept waters of St Andrews Bay, I see two great clouds of gulls dive-bombing the choppy whitecaps. Their method is entrancing. They fly in an arc, vaguely parallel to the water (though not perfectly, it is an arc) and when something under

high waves

2011-02-14T12:35:00.001Z

The surf is high today, but there's little wind. It's leftover movement from yesterday's gales. The sun peaks out, bright and glorious in the hope that winter is almost gone, and then disappears again, hidden behind a range of towering clouds. The rain's stopped, for now, and there seems no end to the dog-walkers on the beach.The cat sits on pages of my manuscript strewn along the dining room

something written

2011-02-13T21:43:00.001Z

I'm a little on edge. Two cups of jasmine tea have done nothing to calm me. I finished editing the submission chapters for my book about an hour ago. It's been a long time coming. There are still things to do (the rest of the manuscript needs work) and there are cover letters still to write, and then they have to be posted and stuff. Oh, and then there's the onslaught of inevitable rejection

waiting for laundry

2011-02-08T00:55:00.000Z

For reasons best known to no one in particular, I'm doing laundry at half past midnight. Not just any laundry, mind, but my bed linens, meaning that my nightly refuge is bare and I'm growing increasingly sleepy. This sleepiness is not aided by either Bach's Works for Trumpet or my remaining dregs of Lagavulin, though that is my company right now. It's good company, irksomely relaxing though it

light thaw

2011-02-08T00:20:00.000Z

I wrote this a week ago. It snowed today, bizarrely, as it was well above freezing. It didn't stick.There's been a bit of a thaw of late. Aside from the hills to the north, there's no snow to be seen. The cold still lingers though, and there's a dampness to the air that clings to the bones. But there's not been much frost in the mornings and that's something. Some days have been positively mild.I

beer, sausages

2011-01-29T14:00:00.001Z

It was Jo's idea. From Malawi she emailed me, suggesting we have night of strange beers and sausages. Being fond of both beer and sausages, I thought this would be grand. Freya got involved. At one point there was discussion about actually making our own sausages, but that was quickly brushed aside for the sake of convenience. The guest list proved quite simple - Broomie and assorted other beer

a morning in winter

2011-01-20T23:59:00.000Z

My pillow seems to have greatly expanded gravitational pull these days. Everything is heavier near my bed, including myself. The grey at my window announcing morning does little to lighten the matter and rising to face the day must break down into small, incremental phases. The cat disapproves. He feels I should be leaping up with vigour that mirrors his own. He climbs over the peaks my limbs

the rattling of a wagon

2011-01-18T09:45:00.000Z

I can't remember which Christmas or birthday it was, or even if it was one of them at all. In any case, one year I wound up with a red Radio Flyer wagon. I don't think it excited me at the time. My reaction was probably, 'it's ok, I guess' or something similar. It grew on me, though. It wasn't a toy, it was a tool for childhood; as seminal in its own way as my first bike. Not to say I didn't use

still not used to writing the date

2011-01-17T22:55:00.001Z

I scratch my stubble and look at the number that comes before January and it takes a double take to comprehend. As I start writing this, it's the 17th. It may be the 18th when I finish. Or, knowing me, it could be March. In any case, it doesn't feel like we should be in the second half of this month, not yet at least. I need to concentrate to write '2011' instead of any other year. I wrote '2002'

why this weekend won't be like last weekend and other tales

2010-10-14T14:15:00.000+01:00

There are times in my life when I will admittedly regress to my younger self. Well, that's what I think I'm doing. I feel like I'm chasing some version of me that could drink more, party longer and get up the next day without any sign of the damage from the night before. Last Thursday, for example, a bunch of us went to a whisky tasting, including four genuine-actual-really-grown-up booze trade

last whining about being sick post (promise)

2010-10-13T10:00:00.026+01:00

The last time I relied this much on 'symptom-killers' was in the Autumn of 2007. Knee damaged, overworked and illness-ridden lead to the consumption of anything that would dull the pain to the point that I could function. It wasn't an addiction by any means. I never took more than advised and would often forget to take any at all. The bad mornings though, those were the days of paracetamol/

sniffles

2010-10-11T09:26:00.000+01:00

My change-of-seasons cold is clingy. I can't shake it no matter what I do. Lemsip, running, not running, Sudafed, rest, lack of rest, whisky, beer, wine; none of it works. Instead of buggering off and leaving me alone, it changes symptoms. At one point I was incurably snotty, then the next it's a chesty cough and now it seems to have settled on a piercing headache. There is still nose-running and

a pairing knife and penny buns

2010-10-05T10:00:00.002+01:00

I grabbed the chopping board from the drying rack and lay it down next to the stove. The kitchen was untidy, but not messy. Next to the sink, in the corner, sat my 'shroom groom. I put it next to the chopping board. Fiddling with the light switch on the cooker paid off and suddenly there was illumination. The white paper bag bulged and the odd blade of grass and speck of dirt fell from it as I

the red sox post

2010-10-04T17:14:00.005+01:00

I was going to write this in May. Then I was going to write it at the end of July. Something got started about a month ago, but I never finished it. In fact, I don't think I got through two whole paragraphs. The words didn't come. I did post a little missive on tumblr, but it was a small piece, and focused only on two players. The last time I wrote a season-ending missive was after the 2003 ALCS

sunday thoughts, musings and banter

2010-09-26T14:04:00.000+01:00

Every time it looks to be properly Autumn the sun pops out, the wind dies down, the temperature climbs and the flies come back. So we're going to take a frisbee, a rugby ball and perhaps a cricket kit down to the beach and throw stuff at one another, hoping to catch it. In the brief time before this, my now caffeinated mind has been mulling upon some of the following: This blog is in catch-up

misplaced monsoons, jet-lag and apple blossoms

2010-09-25T11:00:00.003+01:00

The following are some snippets I wrote in early June 2010 The cat is launching himself throughout the flat, bouncing and arching his back, leaping up on the window sills and ambushing me from behind ill-concealing corners. From the edge of the curtain I see two striped paws stretched, claws extended, resting on my desk next to a stack of blank cds and a memory card reader. And then they're

old running shoes

2010-09-24T11:00:00.011+01:00

I bought them towards the beginning of 2008. I was living in a flat on South Street in St Andrews and I'd not yet been to India. The Red Sox had just won the World Series and I was happily in my early thirties, rather than aimlessly in my mid-thirties. Their predecessors had served me well but were wearing out at every seam. I replaced the garish orange trim with a slightly more subdued blue trim

still here

2010-09-23T21:07:00.000+01:00

In so many ways the title suits. I am still here. I have several blog drafts to finish and post. It's been far too long. I even reached a point where I thought of just wrapping up my blogs. In the end, I decided against it. Writing is proving difficult because I'm out of practice. My prose feels stilted; forced. This blog was meant to keep my writing limber, like stretching before a run. Its

rainy sunday

2010-06-06T14:20:00.002+01:00

The clouds didn't retreat this time and there's a steady rain falling without thunder. My legs are stiff and head a bit fuzzy from the ridiculous selection of beers last night and a probably-unneccesary nightcap of Balvenie Doublewood. There was Port too, as there usually is if I'm with my sister. The Sox won though, and the bar cheered when Youk hit a dinger. There was a loud, bellowing Jersey

storms threatening

2010-06-05T22:05:00.003+01:00

I'd forgotten the heat of a summer's day in Boston. The sun's strong and the air's thick. A little soupy, if you will. I'm not really built for humidity, to be honest. I'm not built for speed or distance for that matter, yet I still insist on running half-marathons. So there you go. Anyway, it's a hot, humid June day in Boston. Every hour or so the clouds build up; dark, full, towering clouds

silver mornings

2010-05-16T18:13:00.000+01:00

The sunlight isn't golden in the mornings, it's silver. And so it coats the world beneath it: the sea, the clouds, all and sundry sparkling in the morning light. The water becomes quicksilver and the landscape slips behind a polarised filter. It doesn't last long, or it hasn't of late at least. The wind picks up. I watch the waves ripple on their swells and see the walkers pull their collars up

cat at the bottom of the bed

2010-05-08T11:21:00.003+01:00

The cat's grooming himself at the bottom of the bed. He's fairly meticulous, from what I can tell. I guess most cats are. One of my Red Sox hats lays on the duvet next to him. I think I threw it off in the wee hours, upset while watching the Yankees knock us around. The room's quiet otherwise, but for the sound of the cat's tongue on his fur. There's the sea in the background, of course, but

insomniac musings

2010-05-08T03:32:00.002+01:00

There's no reason for me to be awake right now. The Sox game is over and we lost. I didn't sleep in today. Work was long and in its way exhausting. I had a big dinner: a curry. My last cup of coffee was lunchtime - well over twelve hours ago. I'm in the middle of a book, and it's good, but not the sort of page-turner that keeps me up. So I don't really understand it. My head keeps fumbling with

a short march (following a long february)

2010-03-12T01:35:00.002Z

February seems a long blur now. I didn't think it would end at the time. At the time there was only the endless list of stuff. Some of it was brilliant stuff. The stuff included skiing, drinking and tasting a lot of wine. There was a wedding: old friends by the dozen. There was also tequila & raw eggs. I'm sure other stuff happened too. I certainly managed an entry into my top 5 ever hangover

unticked boxes

2010-02-01T22:05:00.001Z

It was a short-lived flash of productivity. At the moment, there are 11 unticked boxes on my snazzy to-do list software. The most overdate items are 7 days old and pertain to job and citizenship applications. Aside from a single home-baked loaf of bread (yesterday's effort), I can't say I've achieved a whole lot in the last week. In fact, the last thing ticked on my to-do list was something my

another batch of sunday musings

2010-01-24T13:14:00.003Z

Town seems quiet, though not necessarily hungover. It's damp but not really raining, though you still have to mind the puddles. People are buying whisky for their Burns Suppers and wondering what goes best with haggis. If you're curious, it's Talisker 10yo. Though I feel Ardbeg Uigeadail would also fit the bill. Today is a day of writing - CV, tasting notes and possibly something more interesting

older and up (just a little)

2010-01-21T13:30:00.003Z

I felt my head slowly filling with cotton wool. It seemed directly related to my third or fourth gin martini, though I couldn't be sure. I sipped my beer to see if that helped - sipping beer always helps. The cotton wool still filled my head, but I didn't mind so much. Faces laughed in the candlelight while some fucking cool tunes blasted from the speakers. The waitress was totally unaware of how

thaw

2010-01-14T02:15:00.000Z

So there have been a few days of busy life without a lot happening. I had a couple of hangovers - one quite spectacular, probably because it was so unexpected. It was also brought to my attention by the cat pouncing on my head at an hour unsuitable for consciousness. I flailed and swore and stole his toy and hid it under my pillow. Texts and missed calls started appearing on my phone and it

resolutions

2010-01-06T00:38:00.005Z

I walk to work now. When I was a sommelier, I drove. Now that I'm a wine merchant again (for the time-being), I walk. The only difference is maintaining the sanctity of an ironed shirt: impossible when walking, in Scotland, carrying said shirt. The wind simply won't allow it. I don't need an ironed shirt as a wine merchant. At least, not at this wine merchants. It's a nice walk. I pass the

idiosyncratic crystals

2010-01-05T00:00:00.002Z

The sky spat a few flakes out this evening, as I wandered back to the flat. It wasn't even a flurry; just one or two drifting crystals, idiosyncratic in nature. Patches of ice and trampled snow on its way to ice littered the walk home, mostly on the paths less-travelled. The night seemed still and my wellies chafed a bit, even through my beloved wellie socks. I took the steps down the hill,

some winter observations

2010-01-04T13:54:00.002Z

I feel heavier in the mornings. It may be the cold. My eyes take longer to focus. My legs don't work properly. I massage my head and stumble towards the coffee machine. It's half caffeine and half ritual. -------------------The Tube around Christmas time was ridiculous. So crammed that you share a look, a smile, a laugh at the stranger a few folks down. More than five stops together almost counts

no buyer

2009-11-30T17:34:00.003Z

It's not really autumn anymore. There's too much bitterness in the wind, and my fingers go numb even when I wear my gloves. I noticed autumn. I noticed one day a sea of brittle leaves, blown and huddled at the foot of a mediaeval wall. They hadn't been there a few days before. I noticed the skeletal trees etched against the ashen cloak of low-looming cloud. Now I notice that the shadows never

wine-making again...

2009-09-18T17:15:00.004+01:00

Early nights to prepare for earlier mornings. We get to the winery before first light and leave, if we're lucky, just after the sun sets. The grapes are healthy. So, it would appear, are the wine-makers. I will write more on this when I have the time. In the meantime I leave you with this: today I saw softcore porn needlepoint. It left me giggling and full of questions. It was hanging in a

fringe diary iv

2009-08-25T09:30:00.003+01:00

Edinburgh's quiet before 8 on a Tuesday. It's sunny but chilly and there's still a bit of morning grey filtering the world. I'm wearing yesterday's t-shirt and yesterday's boxers, which have served me as pyjamas. The rattier of my Sox hats sits on my head. My bleary eyes try to focus through my glasses. Stevie Ray Vaughan and Albert King jam through my headphones. My flip-flops snap along the

fringe diary iii

2009-08-16T00:00:00.001+01:00

We walk to the venue in costume. It draws the odd look, but mostly it's indifferent. Everyone looks odd at the Fringe. The venue stands clad in scaffolding. A sea of smokers mill about outside, beneath the steel lattice, inhaling quickly and chatting away. They're all performers or crew. There never seems to be any audience when we arrive. We head straight to the main bar and grab a cup or two of

fringe diary ii

2009-08-11T00:00:00.003+01:00

The flat is a rabbit warren. Nestled in a basement, beneath one of the multitude of Edinburgh University buildings along Buccleuch Place, there is little privacy. People share beds and mugs for coffee. I’m not sure how many bedrooms there are and I’ve lost count of the doors. The main hall is strewn with costumes and flyers, posters and props. And, oddly, a pile of A4 black

fringe diary i

2009-08-07T16:00:00.001+01:00

August 1996 was my first Edinburgh Fringe. I was with some friends doing a couple of Christopher Durang one-act plays. I didn't really know what was going on, but I seem to recall having a blast. I lived on tins of Castlemaine XXXX and bagels with lots of Phillie cream cheese. I fell catastrophically into debt and discovered that I'd been thrown out of university. I smoked

sea glass and skimmers

2009-08-04T16:29:00.001+01:00

I put them in my laptop bag, in my camera bag, in my big jacket pocket. They always come with me. I have several notebooks, but only two are for travel. I try to keep up, but I can't. Important adventures are left unwritten, unchronicled. I write here and there, catching up long after the journey is finished and the comfort of my own bed is rediscovered. I remember the hiss of the waves at night

waiting in the rain

2009-07-22T13:00:00.004+01:00

We got to Glasgow early. Not as early as some but definitely early. It was sunny when we left Fife, then it poured with rain, then it settled into an ominous grey pall so low you could touch it. We ate before we left and milled in the sunshine on South Street. There may have been a hangover or two. There was a hangover or two.I don't know why we waited to set off. It wasn't a lack of anticipation

cat chat

2009-07-19T15:32:00.004+01:00

The kitten sits atop the back of my chair, resting on my jacket, a pair of jeans and a pair of shorts. And my back. He was on my lap before, but kept slipping off and grabbing my headphone wires to right himself. It was awkward. Not as much as when he dug his claws into my thighs to climb back up though. That smarted.My first cat's name was Tucker. We called her mothertucker. She was feral. An

a lighter shade of blue

2009-07-19T01:14:00.004+01:00

The light entering the flat possesses a dingy tint these days. Sheets of blue plastic have been fixed to the glass of the windows, like some form of UV protective cling film. It's for our own good apparently. Well, for the windows' good in any case. There's building work going on, cosmetic - not structural, repairing the heinously ugly cladding of the building with more resilient heinously ugly

kitten watching

2009-07-18T02:34:00.004+01:00

The kitten nibbles on my pinkie a bit, my other fingers scratching his belly. He can't decide whether to purr or not. The nibbles turn to raspy, sandpaper licks and the odd extended claw pokes my palm. The kitten twists a bit and lets me scratch under chin. Then he purrs. He flips his tail lazily - or does his tail lazily flip itself? The claws disappear and he stretches legs and paws in all

stubble scratching

2009-07-11T15:29:00.001+01:00

Luke doesn’t smoke, but he steals a lot of cigarettes. It’s a habit we used to share. I was more honest about it. I admitted I was a smoker but was usually too broke to buy my own. Luke’s a drunk smoker. After x number of beers (or bottles of wine, measures of whisky, etc. etc.) he starts chaining somebody else’s cigarettes. Usually they’re his brother’s. Marcus is younger

large books and reflections.

2009-07-11T07:19:00.002+01:00

I find long books awkward and a tad daunting. It's the physicality of it: those awkward first pages and the imbalance between those pages read and those remaining. My index finger saving my place on page 15 of 1079. The feel of those pages unread is the daunting thing, the thinness of those first few a perennial disappointment. It would be far more comfortable to jump in around 450. Until that

rusty hangover

2009-06-22T11:46:00.003+01:00

My writing feels rusty. Like some manner of creative arthritis, my fingers need coaxing to tap and pound the keys. The gaps between the joints have atrophied a touch. I'm like a stop-motion skeleton clicking away. The words are there, I just need to remember them. And where they go. And, occasionally, why they go there. It's kind of like a hangover. A really bad hangover. You know those sorts of

sunrise and salmon bagels...

2009-06-21T16:29:00.002+01:00

I hadn't been drinking. Not excessively, anyway.I just didn't feel like sleeping. One DVD finished and I popped in another. It was one of those late nights: bed felt like more of an effort than staying up. The last movie on was John Boorman's Excalibur. I loved that movie. Let down by its budget effects but still impressive: proper, filthy mediaeval production design but with the proper nod to

the passing of vintages

2009-06-20T23:53:00.000+01:00

I've not been here for awhile. One day it was March and I was on a train and now it's almost the end of June and I don't know where it's all gone or how I can begin to catch up with myself. I'm not sure I can. I think of the little bits and pieces of my life passing by, unchronicled, and I wince. My notebooks are half-finished at the moment. Begun in heady enthusiasm, frantically scribbled they

jostling tracks

2009-03-25T14:03:00.004Z

The light falls sparsely on the borders, the clouds creating a patchwork upon the countryside. This trip is old hat, almost a commute. The jittery train dashes north from London to Scotland and the landmarks are comforting and familiar. Once we pass Berwick the tracks hug the sea most of the way to Edinburgh. I stare out over the horizon and down the crevices that dot the coast, watching the

the moments along the way

2009-03-23T17:23:00.004Z

The last week flew by. I'm not even sure I can attempt a chronology of events. There were birthday parties and beach parties and ill-health and whisky mishaps. I worked and rehearsed and worked and wrote and worked and baked bread. I failed to shake this relentless cold which, even now, drives a steal spike through my sinuses and takes an electric sander to my chest and throat. I lived entirely

birds on the water, coffee on the boil

2009-03-16T12:25:00.000Z

The cygnets have nearly lost all their grey. I saw the four of them fishing at the mouth of the Burn, where it spills next to West Sands and into the bay. Their parents were nowhere to be seen. They'll be gone soon. I don't know where. Somewhere with a nice bit of water and a lack of predators hopefully. My first espressos of the day. I started with tea and moved on to coffee. Usually it's the

monday repose

2009-03-09T16:11:00.003Z

The weekend falls back into a bit of a haze. There was a lot of drinking, a lot of whiskies ordered alongside a lot of beers. A lot of headaches suffered and snooze buttons hit. Saturday morning it took a few moments to realise the remains of pizza on the table were the remains of MY pizza. I performed in front of hundreds of people Saturday night, still suffering from Friday. Then the pub

sinking fowl

2009-03-05T13:04:00.005Z

Cormorants often look as though they're sinking. It seems like they're struggling to stay afloat, like they need to get the better of their buoyancy. I watch them from my window, their dark shapes barely bobbing along the top of the water. I expect them to disappear underneath the surface but they never do. Time's sped up and March has arrived. The bitter cold today suggests that once again those

wee update.

2009-02-20T13:50:00.003Z

My camera's sitting on the kitchen table, useless on this mute, bleak day. The sun was out this morning only for its rising. It crept above the water and for a few moments it lit up the sea and the sand. The low-hanging pall obscured it soon afterward and has done so since.I've been pondering ghosts and shadows and trying to work out the difference between motivation and purpose. Destiny and

dualities

2009-02-17T11:58:00.004Z

It's a grey day and the sea's calm. The soft surf laps the shore with a fizz; it sounds like a fresh-poured gin and tonic.A few days ago my flatmate and I threw a baseball around in the afternoon sun. Walkers were out in force, along with their dogs or partners, sometimes both. We got the odd look - baseball is uncommon in Scotland. The banter was about baseball; chat regarding the Red Sox and

finally

2009-02-15T16:26:00.001Z

finally Originally uploaded by rwhbrayWoke up the other morning and this is what I saw. There's quite a lot to write here, but thought I'd share this first. Expect a long, rambling entry very soon.

univeral law and the disarray of a desk

2009-02-07T00:24:00.005Z

I can't really clean my desk at the moment. The laws of the universe forbid it. Well, they make it very difficult. Matter can neither be created or destroyed, you see, whilst important paperwork can be created in vast, immeasurable quantities and yet... still cannot be destroyed. Temporarily lost? Yes. But only at the time, that singular moment, that it is needed most.My desk sits in the corner

lazy flurry

2009-02-05T00:02:00.002Z

The winds abate and the clouds rise and a gentle flurry of snow drifts with a lazy abandon, often not bothered with gravity's grip. The sea laps instead of rages. The air has that crisp taste to it that comes with stillness. It pinches the inside of your nostrils, but doesn't hurt. The snowflakes move so slowly you can follow one for a good few seconds. I watch from the window, looking up from my

winter

2009-02-04T19:50:00.001Z

winter Originally uploaded by rwhbrayJust a wee shot of St Andrews pier in the recent gales. I'm working on a new post as well.

debates and morning weather updates

2009-02-02T10:32:00.004Z

There is a small lump of melting snow lying in the bottom right corner of my window. Flurries fly every now and again, but as far as I can tell, that's the only snow that's settled. And it doesn't seem to be settling for long. I find it an outrage that London gets snow and St Andrews, perched on a rock jutting out into the North Sea, 400 miles to the north, gets fuck all.Ah... nevermind. Since

laughing and hovering

2009-02-01T16:51:00.006Z

The world looked cold today. A monochrome sketch of a pale, glowering sky met by a slate, ravaged sea. All things de-saturated, the frigid air and bitter wind sucked the colour out of everything. The gulls gave smug looks as they hovered on and with the wind, floating without effort and laughing. Gulls seem to feel no cold. They fly and hover because they can. They spread their wings and the air

ice crystals on pavement

2009-01-26T09:32:00.006Z

It's too cold to run right now. The sun shines bright on the frost-crusted pavement and I doubt the grip of my feet upon the earth. Silhouettes walk their dogs on the beach, bundled tight. Every silhouette has their personal cloud of mist that trails them like steam on a locomotive. I can imagine the crunch of frozen grass as one of those silhouettes takes their wee Scotty dog along the lawn

note

2009-01-02T15:28:00.003Z

I have a hangover and need to go to work in a couple of hours. Ugh. Will post properly soon.By the way, if I had a choice, I would only drink port from 1927. Wow that was fine.

on hangovers and railroads

2008-12-23T16:52:00.003Z

I've spent a lot of time hungover on trains. Once I had such an awful hangover I jumped on a train in hopes of escaping it.It didn't work.I used to be the last to leave the party, the last to bed, sometimes wincing at the morning sun as I lay down my head. I'd make or buy breakfast, pour a bloody mary or a beer for myself and anyone else dumb enough to be welcoming the dawn with me. On more than

newspapers

2008-12-19T23:04:00.003Z

Sometimes it was Charles St, sometimes it was Park St. It depended on what walk I felt like. It depended on whether I'd lost my 'T' pass yet. It usually took a week to lose the pass. Taxpayers' money to waste. The guy at Charles St knew me. He kindly let me through, knowing I wasn't selling my pass on the black market for drug money or tricks. We got them for each month. Multi-coloured plastic,

Beer

2008-12-13T20:39:00.002Z

Just to let you all know, my flatmate and I started a new blog of tasting notes for guest ales and fine bottled beers. It's here, and under Guest Tales in my links list.

the view

2008-12-10T16:23:00.002Z

St Andrews harbourOriginally uploaded by rwhbray I'm working on a post at the moment, but in the meantime, I thought I'd share a pic I like. This is the view from my flat.I look out the window a lot.

older and wiser?

2008-12-05T17:05:00.002Z

Sister Mary Andrew stormed out: a harbinger of the apocalypse. The anger in those eyes held no Christian charity or turning of the other cheek. As I plucked a clump of grass from behind my ear she descended the short three steps from the front entrance of the school down to the lawn. Her finger waved at us from her outstretched arm, accusing.She was not a slight woman. She was built like a

return to normal service... eventually...

2008-11-26T01:05:00.002Z

I can once again, in the wake of surgery, stare vacantly at a screen for hours on end. Broadband has finally been connected in my flat (though broad is an overstatement for the band - middling perhaps; or even slender) after monumental indifference and/or incompetence on the part of our erstwhile provider.I'm no wiser, but I'm older and often feel it. Revelations of late are notable more for

not quite vampiric

2008-11-04T12:13:00.000Z

I hide from the light these days. It blinds me; I shrink from it. My curtains are always closed and any foray into the sunshine must be followed by an hour of resting my battered orbs. I feel it in the morning, clawing at my curtains, bathing the sand and stone outside my building in the molten autumnal light that saturates Scotland at this time of year.I hide from the light with a pair of

resting my eyes

2008-10-31T16:17:00.000Z

I lie on the couch, eyes closed, facing the ceiling and listen to the sea rage. Once in awhile I look and watch the spray disappate into mist as it crashes over the pier and harbour walls. All's slate; the sea, the sky, the stone. Vast strips of foaming white tumult cut the sea, crowning the waves, embracing the stone, exploding and cascading over it. The few droplets of rain seem pointless

a wee note

2008-10-29T12:04:00.000Z

Just a small note to let everyone know that recovery proceeds apace. My flat doesn't have broadband, so updates are coming from my iPhone. I spend most of my days lying on my back, listening to stand-up (Izzard and Connolly mostly), resting my eyes. It seems to be working. I drink lapsang souchong tea during the day and allow myself a beer or two at night. I sleep a lot. Toast forms the

hiatus

2008-10-26T12:36:00.003Z

On Wednesday morning I underwent a procedure to reattach the retina in my left eye. They shot some lasers into my right eye too, just for good measure. The operation was a success, but looking at computers is rather difficult at the moment. As such, my blogs are all under indefinite hiatus. Sorry guys.

electron microscopes

2008-10-01T15:45:00.004+01:00

I honestly don't remember the first time I saw an image taken by an electron microscope. If I told you a day, a situation, a tv show, a class, an idle thumb through a magazine on a slow Sunday where the dust sifted softly in the sunbeam through the living room window, I'd be lying. I may have seen it in school, though I doubt it, knowing my school at the time. TV is equally unlikely - aside from

pause

2008-09-27T16:37:00.003+01:00

There's another post coming, but I just thought I should say it sucks Paul Newman died.He certainly had his innings though, and gave us a lot to watch and love."Pleased to meet you kid. You're a real horse's ass."- The Sting

arriving and to work

2008-09-15T08:08:00.004+01:00

I slept a bit on both flights. Not my usual airborne hibernation, but enough to keep me going. I read a bit and listened to some tunes. For some reason I worried about my luggage. I worried that one or both the bottles of fine wine in my bag would be smashed on arrival or that my bag just wouldn't be there. That I would be stood alone at the baggage carousel at Perpignan Rivesaltes, waiting in

not quite back to school

2008-09-11T08:55:00.000+01:00

Small piles of leaves grow in the nooks and crannies throughout the town at the moment. There are no fireworks yet. The early fallen tend to be a dull shade of yellow or simply faded green. The fireworks won't be for awhile, yet. A month, maybe longer. I noticed the leaves just as I noticed I needed a jumper and something waterproof to wear over it.As a kid I remember my clothes suddenly being

a partial history of personal hangovers

2008-09-07T14:35:00.002+01:00

I used to think the guy who owned the baseball card store was Chinese. Only now do I second-guess it. Now I wonder if maybe he was Korean.I never asked him.He was tall, hair slicked in a side-parting with thick glasses. He wore pale blue or white button down shirtsleeves. Around his considerable girth stretched a gun belt, and attached hung a holster of pale leather. The gun was always polished,

confessions

2008-08-23T04:52:00.006+01:00

There are times I feel guilty.I don't update this blog enough. It bothers me. It bothers me for the simple reasons. I let my reader(s?) down. I let myself down. The latter bothers me the most.More often than not, I'm trying to work out the grades of grey, silver and platinum that the sky and sea achieve on your average afternoon. The brilliance and glory of the elusive gold the odd stroke of sun

patter

2008-08-20T18:51:00.002+01:00

It's been raining for weeks now.At night its patter lulls me to sleep.In the day it falls silently.But I see the rippled circles appear and disappear in the puddles.And I hear their rhythm in my head.Go see some pics.I'm going to buy an umbrella.

possibly every argument ever?

2008-08-18T04:15:00.006+01:00

ha.ha, what?ha, I win.You win?Yeah. I win.Inner Nagging Voice wins?Yup.Uh. Well... to be honest, you're more resurrected than won.What do you mean?Well... we dealt without you.Dealt?... Without?... Random pronouns?You?Whatever. You lost.Lost? I've posted for YEARS without you.You?Yeah, me.Right.Shit.Where are we? Lost track.I haven't.No. No. That's not how it is. I haven't lost track.You

The triumphant return of the Inner Nagging Voice.

2008-08-18T04:06:00.003+01:00

You've not said anything.Of course I haveNever wanted to.I've always something to say.And used to say itNever said I didn't.But...Well...I can't just jump out and call them all a bunch of cunts, can I?Actually...By your own rules...You can...Can I?Yes.Your music taste's still shit though.

short

2008-08-11T09:12:00.005+01:00

Yet again the pace of life outstrips my ability to chronicle it.The short version:I'm babysitting cats at the moment. Guinness and Thomas.I've got a new job. I'm no longer a wine merchant.I'm homeless, but working on it.I'm in Scotland.I still dream about India.Karma works. In a good way.I'm a godfather.

the compass always points.

2008-07-29T18:10:00.002+01:00

Back up north I go. I've had enough of the London sun.The cool blanket of haar awaits, obscuring what comes next, showing only shadows and silhouettes.

parfum

2008-07-27T13:39:00.005+01:00

Me: 'You spent how much on shower gel?'Mate: '£16'Me: '£16? How much did that get you? A gallon? A tanker?'Mate: 'A bottle.'Me: 'That's ridiculous. I think my shower gel's about £3, buy one-get-one free in Boots. Not the generic stuff, but the funky stuff that has all the fruit and shit in it.'Mate: 'You don't understand, this stuff's amazing.'Me: 'It's shower gel. Does it get you cleaner or

pyrhhic sleepiness

2008-07-26T11:20:00.002+01:00

I shouldn't have stayed up so late.The movie wasn't that good.The tv show that followed the movie wasn't that good either.Then, fingers crossed, I waited for the Sox game to end.They lost. That definitely wasn't good.I'm going to go make an espresso. Then I'm going to go read on the couch, or on the deck. The deck is further from the fridge. The couch is further from the sun.Saturday decisions.

chow

2008-07-25T11:26:00.006+01:00

This is a quiet trip to London. I head towards the local for a pint or the high road for a coffee. Sometimes a milkshake.The walk to the high road brings me across the lawn of a small park. It's sort of a short cut. Regardless of whether it saves time, it certainly increases the pleasure of the walk. More often than not there's a dog or two enjoying a stroll.Sometimes it's the chows. One of my

expectations

2008-07-22T15:34:00.003+01:00

I'm in London.I didn't expect to be in London. I expected to be in India. Hyderabad.It's meant to be quite a cool place, Hyderabad.The colours aren't fading yet, and the endless din of the bazaar rings still in my ears. The smells, the whole gamut of them, from enchanting to pungent to wretched all linger yet in my nostrils.I note the heat by its absence.The why's and wherefore's, the reasons for

notes ii

2008-07-17T12:47:00.004+01:00

Some of the older buildings... walking inside seems like walking into an old photograph. The heat, the damp, saps the colour here. Outside is where it shines bright. But I guess its fleeting. The sun fades it quickly. The colour is incredible,; the light is hazy though, lazy.Two nights in one place for the first time since I slept on my friend's couch in St Andrews. It feels odd, but nice.I just

travel notes

2008-07-17T12:21:00.005+01:00

The fort in Gwalior is over 3km long and sits atop a plateau, its read stone wall rising from the cliffs, extending them. It's had 300 different rulers since its founding in the sixth century, only 187 of them native. It stands sentinel over the city, though the fort used to hold the city within it. Now it houses a school, a small settlement, two ruinous palaces and the remains of the British

colour

2008-07-16T19:12:00.007+01:00

My software can't deal with the colour. I import my photos and the computer thinks the camera's made a mistake. It evens the levels automatically. Tones everything down. Dulls it.The rich, burnt ochre of the river beds, the luminous green from the jungle that grows everywhere in the monsoon. The blinding beauty of even the most simple sari. Sandstone temples, a thousand years old yet rich with

light shows

2008-07-15T15:38:00.003+01:00

Flying over the Czech Republic the clouds beneath lit up. Lightning storms far below - occasionally a rumble rose above the roar of the engine. Mostly though, it was just a light show.I walked among still-burning funeral pyres today. The heat was unbearable but the smell bore no hint of the fire's duty. It was aromatic and heady, hiding the reek of the waste strewn throughout the back streets of