Year: 2019

bookmark_borderAnd then she got married

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wedding rings

I can remember when I opened the packaging and laid it out in all its glory. I put my Action Man down on the bed to compare and was delighted to find that my new outfit matched his perfectly; head to toe camouflaged jumpsuit and red beret. I knew my parents would be home from the hospital soon so I put it on and decided to hide in the large fuchsia bush in the front garden, a perfect spot with its dark green foliage and red flowers!

Soon my parents pulled in to the driveway – and they definitely did NOT spot me in my hiding place, nope, no way! – and after they recovered from their surprise when I leapt out at them, it turns out they were bringing home a tiny sleeping baby, my little sister.

That seems so long ago now (because it is) but the sentiment has always been the same. She’s my wee sister. She’s been through a lot in the intervening years, and more recently she’s found a guy who loves her and they are both proving to be wonderful parents to their amazing daughter, which is all as we expected.

And today my baby sister – who I fed from a bottle, who I used to torment on long car rides, who shares my love of a tuna baked potato and a tendency to get over emotional about, well, just about anything – got married. She is now a wife, another label to add to mother, daughter, sister, and so on.

My sister got married today.

I was lucky enough to be asked to deliver a reading during the ceremony and, as I’m writing this post in advance, I can only hope it went down well given that:

  1. I wrote it myself.
  2. Our family propensity to tear up…

That said, I’m sure it was well received and, if not, then it’s just another ‘wedding story’ for people to tell. I don’t really mind either way because the more important fact is simply that.

My wee sister got married today!

And for those interested, here’s what I read…

“Would you speak at our wedding”,
she asked me that day,
and since then I’ve been hunting,
for words I can say.

Should it be funny, or silly, or poignant, or new,
to be part of the promises made by you two.

Should this be about Jennie, this little ode,
Or a poem of love, for young and for old.

Should I focus on Steven, my brother to be,
And find words of welcome, from our fami-leee?

It struck me as well, that you two are three,
How could I forget Lucy, I’m Uncle Gee!

Yet, search as I might, I just could not find,
A poem or saying, nowt came to mind.

I know Dad will speak later, as is expected
And I know that these words will not be rejected,
But ohhh how I wish I knew how to say,
All the thoughts in my head that are right for today.

Perhaps I could just borrow some words for a while,
An excerpt from someone to make us all smile,
Perhaps warm words of family at this loving time,
But … others will do that, before we all dine.

I so wanted to speak to the love that I see,
The laughter and jokes, and unbridled glee,
And the warmth of your home, and the love in your hearts,
But I couldn’t find words to sum up these parts.

Instead I have penned, in terrible prose,
My desires for you both as your shared life grows,
May the road rise up to meet you, with the wind at your back!
Yeah I stole that bit, ach now I’ve lost track…

So … here you are now, as husband and wife,
To continue the slide down the bannister of life,
and with that in mind I’ll conclude and just say,
I hope that the splinters never point the wrong way!

bookmark_borderArt in the woods

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Jupiter Artland house

I am my mother’s son. Growing up my mother’s penchant for a list was well documented, lists of things to do in the garden, lists of presents received at Christmas/lists of thank you letters to write, lists for shopping, lists for holidays, it’s something that I picked up without really realising but looking through my Notes app on my phone and it’s full of, yup you guessed it, lists!

Right now I have a folder in there called Lists with the following:

  • Things to do
  • Places to eat
  • Books
  • Hard to kill houseplants
  • Sipping Tequilas
  • Set lists (from a gig)
  • Bucket List
  • Present Ideas

And it’s from that first list that we ended up visiting Jupiter Artland last week, a place that had been in my list of “Things to do” for a couple of years now after originally spotting it via some friends who posted some amazing photos.

We got lucky with the weather, which was handy as it’s virtually all outside, and spent a couple of hours wandering the woods, along well maintained paths, stopping to admire the various art installations that feature. What a wonderful space it is, plenty of wild flowers, bees buzzing, butterflies and moths flitting, snails snoozing on branches, all to the soundtrack of birds singing in the tree tops. Every now and then you stop and marvel at some art, then you finish the afternoon off with a snack or lunch.

It’s the kind of place that it’s hard to describe but I can’t recommend it highly enough. A couple of the installations were utterly mesmerising – the hauntingly creepy “Weeping Girls” and the beauty of “The light pours out of me” were definite highlights – but each installation gave pause. It’s a wonderful space, and one we will definitely revisit.

bookmark_borderI can read

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I stopped publishing my weekly Weekend Reading posts last year. As I said at the time:

3 years and 161 posts later and I think it’s time to admit that this is now more of a chore than I’d like. Sure it’s mostly automated, but over the past few months I’ve started searching out and filtering what I read knowing that it will appear in these posts, and that’s not why I started doing it. It isn’t supposed to be a chore, it’s just supposed to be an extension of what I already read, and it no longer is.

Since then I’ve read about the same number of articles but shared a wider variety, or at the very least I feel like I’ve shared a wider variety as I’ve not actually done any analysis on this other than the sense that reading and sharing articles the way I do now definitely doesn’t feel like a chore nor does it feel influenced by the fact that other people may judge me based on what I share (which is really what I was trying to say when I closed the weekly summary posts.

My life has changed a lot this since then, for the better I hastened to add, and naturally my world view and the things that matter to me most have evolved and my reading habits have mirrored that. As I’ve said, I’ve not stopped reading articles and I still subscribe to and enjoy a few daily newsletters, all of which have yielded some fascinating articles which I’ve shared (via Pocket and IFTTT so it’s still kinda automated) to my Twitter account.

When I set this up I would also have had the articles posted to my Facebook account but IFTTT doesn’t support creating posts to a personal Facebook account, but it does support creating posts on a Facebook Page. I didn’t have, nor had any desire to have, a Facebook Page because who needs yet another social media outlet to manage.

That was back then and like I say, life has changed so prompted by someone asking why I don’t cross post to Twitter AND Facebook, I give you – https://www.facebook.com/gordoncanread/ – so if you prefer to consume your social media over there, feel free to Like and follow my new page.

Or don’t.

bookmark_borderLife is a beautiful ride

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It starts when I get my leg over.

And it’s always my left leg due to whatever odd reasoning of biometrics and learned habits dictates such things, always the same one I swing up and over the saddle and, after a quick re-positioning of the pedals, we’re off. After the first few metres of making sure shoes get clipped in and the right gears are selected we are soon on our way and, without fail, a smile spreads across my face.

I always get the same feelings of nostalgia when I get on my bike, the simple childhood pleasure and sensation of speed all come rushing back, and isn’t it funny how we don’t remember all the scrapes and bruises we endured trying to learn to ride the damn things? Although not every child is the same, whilst I distinctly remember having stabilisers for a while, one of my friends was put on his new bike by his big brother, shoved off down the driveway and off he went!

Boxer bicycle

My first bike was a blue Raleigh Boxer. It was a solid little thing, almost like a small BMX (which were still a couple of years away from becoming mainstream) and with no gears it went as fast as my little legs would go. It was small enough that I could cycle round the back garden, round and round the large concrete slab that was the base of the old garage. At one end of the concrete was a grassy slope and my wonderful father added a small concrete slope at the other end so I could spend my summer evenings spinning in circles.

Many years later I’d help my Dad smash up that old concrete base with a sledgehammer. It was about then as a gangly 14 year old that I started to realise I was going to be bigger and stronger than him, an odd realisation for a boy who was still learning about his own body. I was already a little taller than him and had longer levers with which to swing the sledgehammer, sure it’s simple physics but it’s stuck in my brain as a ‘moment’.

Raleigh Enterprise

I’d moved on from the little Raleigh Boxer by that time, with my first almost full size bike being a Raleigh Enterprise*. A big black straight handled touring bike with three gears. Looking back it was a great bike, but at the time it was highly unfashionable with all my friends on Choppers or BMXs. Yet with thin tyres, a solid frame and three gears to use, I quickly started to appreciate the sense of speed it gave me as I weaved my way round deserted early morning streets, leaning into corners just like I’d seen the riders on Le Tour do, on my way to my piano lesson.

It was probably my first real sense of speed, self-powered and fully under my control. The sound of rubber on tarmac, the noise of air rushing past, clothes rippling, every sensation heightened with the threat of a sudden spill looming larger and larger the faster you went, the further you leant into a corner. I still get the same sense, with all the added weight of adult responsibility, when I’m out on my bike.

Falcon bike

That bike gave me love of speed and I started to read up on bicycle maintenance, techniques on how to ride faster (keep that inner pedal up when leaning into a corner) and as I got more engrossed in the sport so my next bike was an obvious, if not fashionable at all, choice. My friends moved from BMX to early Mountain Bikes, but for me it was all about speed, and so it was I got a 21-speed Falcon. I moved from three thumb controlled gears to 21 gears controlled by two frame mounted levers, and from straight handlebars to drop handlebars with two additional brake levers. It was a revelation and my cycling got much more fun and MUCH faster. Sure it helped I was growing bigger and stronger but once I figured out the fancy gears, and stopped flicking the levers too far and knocking the chain off the cogs, I was a veritable flying machine, at least in my own head. Trips to the town centre (slightly downhill) flew by, and the journey back was a breeze, that summer I spent a lot of time just cycling around and a recently opened local cycle path was perfect.

It was this same cycle path that I cruised down last weekend, it runs the length of the Forth & Clyde canal and winds its way through my home town before following the River Leven to Balloch (my destination on Sunday). The stretch from Bowling to Dumbarton always brings back memories of my childhood and that 21-speed Falcon flying machine.

I’d set off on a summer evening. From my house I’d have to make my way along quiet streets before I reached the sanctuary of the cycle path at the far side of town. Then it was a few miles of newly laid tarmac, only open to walkers, runners, and a young blond haired blur on his bike. The far end of the path at Bowling crosses a road, so that became the turning point as the path rose up to that junction. I’d stop at the top of the climb (it was a small incline but I hadn’t really yet figured out how to properly gear things) before turning around and tucking in for the descent, seeing how long I could free-wheel with the wind ripping past me, mindful to keep mouth shut after the ‘bluebottle incident’… .

And so it was again when I got to that spot on Sunday, as soon as I set off down that hill I was taken back to my childhood, the hot summers spent doing nothing of anything, cycling around the town and only stopping for a Fab lolly or a bag of chips. As I sped down the hill I could easily have been heading to my childhood home, turning up the driveway, bumping the gate open with my front wheel and dumping my bike in the back of the garage.

I’m wary that my increasing nostalgia is a sign of my advancing years and that all of these memories are tinged with the hue of fondness but I really don’t care. All I know is that when I’m on my bike with blue skies overhead, the world seems like a better place and for a couple of hours I can recapture that sense of naivety and innocence. Perhaps it’s because when you are on a bike that’s all there is, you, the bike (I will save my dislike of those who cycle with headphones in!) and the world around you. It’s an easy way to disconnect for a couple of hours and just enjoy this amazing world we live in, putting everyday life aside.

The bike I own now is far more complex and modern (and expensive) then any of the ones I had growing up but the real value of any bike, be it a carbon-fibre, razor saddled flying machine or a rusty old banger that creaks when you brake, is unlocking that feeling. As the tyres whirr on tarmac and the wind buffets your face, it’s hard not to smile. The best bike is the one you are using.

I really need to get out on my bike more often.

* I’ve always thought this is what it was called but Google suggests otherwise. I’m leaning towards the Executive but from photos it looked more like a Raleigh Sport… hmmmm

bookmark_borderJulius Caesar

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July is a quiet month.

Not for any specific reason, more happen-stance than anything – only a couple of gigs and a stag do for my brother-in-law-to-be at the end of the month – but I’m glad of the quieter couple of weeks ahead, a chance to get properly back into routine after our wonderful holiday. It’s also well timed as next month is lining up to be a doozy!

August kicks off with Becca’s birthday right at the start of the month, the following weekend I’m in Edinburgh for the traditional day at the Festival with my friends, and then the weekend after that there is a wedding to attend on the Friday (which means I’m missing The Cure when they visit Glasgow that day, some people are so selfish!), and the very next day we are off to see the mighty Foo Fighters, and we end the month with Skunk Anansie.

Of course the wedding will be the focus, it’s not often your favourite sister gets married after all, and as I’ve got a reading to deliver I guess I’d better get my ass in gear and figure out what I’m going to say. Ohhh who am I kidding, I’ve already got the perfect piece picked out (and no, it doesn’t feature any alliterations) and the real question is if I can hold it together and make it to the end without greeting… feel free to place your bets…

Aside from all that, it’s back to the gym and back to the physio for me. I have a long standing ankle problem that is the remnant of an over zealous tackle when I used to play 5-a-side. I’ve lived with it for the past coughs 15 or so years but the recent physio I had on my hip, and the exercises for that, aggravated it so back I go for more gentle, helping torture.

Thankfully the gym program I’m now on is built around accommodating that, which largely means a lot of walking and core/arm work. The former is great as I have a very happy companion for walks – once he gets past the fact that no, this time it’s just a walk, there will be no ball throwing – the latter means every cough is accompanied with a grimace and I can barely lift my arms above my head most days. Hopefully over the coming weeks I’ll see a difference, and with body measurements taken, it’ll be tangible one way or another!

Of course free time means more time for hobbies, but for a change I’m not really planning/hoping to achieve anything this month, just taking each day as it comes. I tend to have Saturdays to myself whilst Becca is working and it’s been interesting to see how I react to not really having a plan for those days. It usually boils down to; get up, walk/feed the dogs, do some chores, then… see how the mood takes me. I’m loving life this way. Last Saturday I met a friend for brunch, did some writing, played piano, and chilled out with my two little furry pals.

Here’s to a quiet July!

bookmark_borderWriting space

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Since moving, I’ve struggled to get back into my writing habit. I’m managing to keep my blog going although dropping the schedule I followed in 2018 has also had an impact – looking back it’s clear that some of the posts are not great – but I now have two rough ideas for a novel/novella which are currently stalled in draft purgatory with no signs of moving anywhere fast.

I am blocked and uninspired.

Now, I could blame many things for this; that I no longer have a separate desk and a nice adjustable chair, that I don’t have a separate space for when I’m writing, or that I’m just too busy with other things. But these are all excuses.

Ultimately I’m being crippled by my own fear of failure.

A couple of years ago I used NaNoWriMo as a way to push myself, a way to be held (somewhat) publically accountable, and to provide a focus. I met the word count but didn’t have a novel, more the structure of a story and some under developed characters, but it was a start. And I kept it going for a while but then I started to get blocked, stuck wondering where the story should go next, and my character notes kept chopping and changing (to the point I was wondering if I should rewrite and change the focus to be on a secondary character instead).

A while ago I had another vague idea for a story and, on the premise that NOT thinking about Novel 1 whilst I started Novel 2 would actually help me progress Novel 1 at some point, I leapt straight in, only to get blocked on Novel 2 because it wasn’t that great an idea in the first place (or maybe it is, I don’t even know anymore as I’m second and third guessing my second and third guesses).

So I stepped away from writing all together (interestingly I don’t consider writing blog posts the same way I think about writing ‘creatively’), and then life got busy (in a good way) and well loads of other reasons/excuses can be offered to justify why I’ve barely even thought about Novel 1 for over a year or so. All excuses, I know, if I was really passionate about this I would find a way, right?

Now, you may be asking (presuming anyone is still reading) why the hell am I writing a blog post about this? Well because it’s:

  1. A public acknowledgement of my ‘failure’
  2. A way to give myself a kick and hopefully regather some focus on this rather than continue to ignore it
  3. Yet another example of ‘I’ll write any old shite as long as I’m writing’…

The big question is; How do I get my writing mojo back?

Well I’m taking a small steps approach, hoping that each little thing will reduce the friction (aka the excuses) that are holding me back. The good thing is that, over the last few weeks as I’ve started to read back my early draft, a few new ideas have popped up to solidify parts of the novel I’d been struggling with, so I’m hoping to build on that momentum.

Step 1. Hack the physical space
I don’t currently have a comfortable space to write. We have a breakfast bar and stools but it’s not the best. So it’s time to clear up one of the spare rooms, get the table cleared and get a chair. Bonus of finally sorting out one of the spare rooms which have barely changed since we moved in.

2. Hack my mental space
Ohhh the articles I’ve read on this; How to overcome writer’s block, How to get your writing mojo back, Just write!, Finding your way back, and other such titles all spring to mind (I may have made some of these up but you get the gist). That said, I’m prone to procrastination (why do you think I have a blog?) and I know that if I really want to get back to Novel 1 I need to dedicate some time and make it a priority. Even if I’m just sitting down and going through my notes, or rewriting a chapter, it all counts.

3. Or just give up?
But here’s the thing, and I think this is the root of all of this prevaricating and pontificating, shouldn’t I just WANT to sit down and write? Why am I having to ‘hack’ my way back to it? If I don’t have the passion to do it and follow it through to completion then maybe it’s just not for me?

And there we have it. If that is the case, if my attempt at writing a novel has to go down as a noble effort that is ultimately doomed to remain incomplete, well a large part of me doesn’t want to admit that, doesn’t want to say I’ve failed. Logically I know I’m not the first person, and I certainly won’t be the last, to fail to write a book. I should take pride that I tried it at all, acknowledge that as an achievement in itself and move on.

Except I’m not quite ready to do that. Part of me still thinks I can do this, part of me wants to continue to explore the process of writing and finding my own voice and style, and part of me wants to prove that I can, at the very least, finish the damn thing. If for no other reason than to show that all of the words I’ve written about it in this blog post so far (973) aren’t just yet another scream into the void.

Even if that’s exactly what this is.

(994 words, done).