Year: 2025

The Morbid Truth

I will consider myself lucky if I see my son reach the age of 35. That’s 33 years away and by that point I’ll be 83.

I will consider myself lucky if I see my son reach the age of 30. That’s 28 years away and by that point I’ll be 78.

I say this purely because my Dad died when he was 73, Mum made it to 78 (including 13 years post stroke). That said my Dad’s death was sudden, as was my Mum’s, and both were in declining health so whilst it was a shock, neither death was completely unexpected.

Fair to say that my own mortality has been highlighted in no short measure recently.

When Becca and I decided to have a baby (even if that baby is now almost 4!) I knew and accepted that I would be an “old” Dad. Becca is a fair bit younger than me but I already knew that she absolutely wanted to have a child, it was a non-negotiable for her and we discussed it early in our relationship; I can still remember that conversation and when I went home and reflected on it I realised I wasn’t freaking out about possibly becoming a Dad regardless of my age.

I was already 48 when that discussion happened and I couldn’t help but think forward and wonder how things will be as I got older. Safe to say my age has always been in the back of my mind when it comes to thinking of my son’s future. Well, technically my age AND my health, but they are one and the same these days, ahh the joys of turning 50.

I have a desire to make sure that when I die, presuming it is at least a couple of decades away, that I will leave my wife and son in a good secure place. To me that has a myriad of meanings and, whilst it’s not purely financial, right now that’s my focus so the 5 year plan becomes a 10 year plan and other things that I had in mind for my future, like my retirement age, are currently being revised. Beyond that I feel confident that they will be safe, will have experienced as much love as I can possibly give (an unending amount), and can look back on our time together on this planet with fondness.

I will pause at this point to say that, despite the topic I am absolutely delighted to be privileged enough to be entertaining such thoughts. I know not everyone has what I have and that never leaves my mind. As I’ve said before, despite all of these ongoing thoughts I do my best to push them aside day by day but, of course, that means they need dealt with at some point, even if only from a practical point of view.

That means getting a will in place, considering what my funeral might look like – no black! Wild colours and silliness please, and if there isn’t ice cream afterwards I’ll be disappointed! – and where I want my ashes scattered (two spots spring to mind, the time I realised I was falling in love with Becca, and the second where I proposed to her, but I’ll hold off as I know Jack and I will find a special place we both love too!).

Though I am just being practical, this is not some lasting statement on the fragility of life, nor any fascination with my own death (as far away as possible and painlessly, please). If anything it’s a way to help me focus on my life today, to take time to enjoy the precious moments I have with Jack as he grows and flourishes, to savour the fact that I fell in love with an amazing woman who is my best friend, a beautiful nag, a formidable unstoppable force, and my absolute foundation.

Thinking about death is an odd thing, in a way it’s a bit like sex. Ummm that sounds weird, I just mean that it’s one of those things we just don’t talk about, do we. It feels odd just to be committing these thoughts to a permanent record, to be writing with full knowledge that this even will happen even though I am far from ready for it to occur.

It also strikes me that when I first started writing about this topic I presumed that I wouldn’t see Jack reach 40. Yet that is entirely possible, I’d only be 88 after all, and you know how I like a goal… bring on Project 90!

Time to move

a stylised colourful graphic depicting two towns, one industrial, one rural

Well, not right now, but sometime in the next few years at least. Maybe… probably…

I dunno, I’ve given up trying to plan too much too far ahead so let’s call this future dreams that we hope will come true (note: a lot of this is, in reality, grounded in boring things like money but I’m ignoring that for the purposes of this post).

I grew up in Dumbarton, so did Becca, something we discovered not long after we first met and we then spent a few hours discussing what the town was like for us growing up which was, despite the age gap between us, surprisingly similar. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise though, towns like Dumbarton don’t really change all that much, and definitely don’t do it fast.

I moved away from Dumbarton in my early twenties, a new job taking me down to Aylesbury for a couple of years, before a move back to Scotland to sunny Bothwell and then Hamilton, before moving into Glasgow’s West End for several years. Then I met Becca, life took on a wonderfully different feel and, a year in a terrible rented house in Bothwell aside, we’ve made a happy home for Jack in the house Becca grew up in (yes, we rent from my in-laws, no it’s not stressful as they are wonderful and very chilled out and hey, we gave them a grandson!).

But over the past year or so Dumbarton has taken on a different quality for me, with memories of my childhood and early adulthood – the formative years if you will – are merging with more recent sadder memories of my Dad, my Mum, and my younger sister. As well as the everyday grief of thinking ‘ohhh Mum would love to hear this’ or ‘I’d better tell Jen that…’ and ‘Dad would know how best to do this…’ I now have locational memories of playing in the park that we take Jack too with my sister when she wasn’t much older than he is now, or getting ice cream with Mum & Dad in Helensburgh (Dino’s forever! Well Galone’s in the Vale but it shut down years ago), and I’ll be honest with all these emotions and memories barrelling at me day after day, it’s sometimes kinda hard to take.

I work at home almost exclusively these days which is wonderful for many reasons but will happily admit that NOT being out and about in Dumbarton, and having the constant barrage of mini-memories of my family in my face all the time, is yet another reason add to the list of benefits.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t an always state of mind, it is stuff that I don’t think about most of the time but when it hits, it’s hitting hard.

So we are moving!

Well, like I said, probably.

Truth be told I have very little family left in the West of Scotland. My Mum’s brother lives about 45 mins away, and I’m not that close with my cousins on that side of the family (I’m older than all three by enough years that there has never been a good crossover), and my cousins on my Dad’s side of the family who I am closer to now live in Australia and New Zealand (the ‘Aussie’ is over in a couple of weeks which will be great).

In short, there aren’t that many ties for me here any more. My best friends live in Glasgow and Edinburgh but seeing them is always something that takes a little arranging anyway so it makes little difference if I move further away, just means a little more planning on my side. Same for the days I need to be in the office, it would like mean an overnight in a hotel now and then but that’s definitely manageable.

There are my nieces of course, my goddaughter Daisy and her big sister Lucy; suffice to say that the ramifications of my sister’s death has made that situation a little tricky to navigate but they are always in my thoughts and, as they grow, hopefully I can explore a relationship with them in later life.

Becca and Jack are a different consideration though. Becca has friends here, a couple of besties that I know she would miss but given they trade WhatsApp voice notes and messages multiple times a day it might be workable. Jack will be at school if/when we do decide to move but at most he’ll only be in Primary 3 or 4 and I can barely remember GOING to school at that age so I think he’ll cope.

I say all this because we are considering moving up north to be nearer Becca’s brother who is near Aviemore. It’s a beautiful part of the country, and given how much time we like to spend outdoors, it’s far more geared up for that kind of lifestyle than the small provincial town in which we currently reside.

Note from Ed: Check that usage of ‘provincial’, sure it sounds all eloquent and ‘writery’ but you don’t live in a province ya numpty.

It would be a good base to explore more of the north of Scotland in Vera too (our motorhome for those not paying attention) and would mean when my in-laws come back to Scotland after their months abroad living their best retired lives, they’ll be close to both families. We have been thinking about it and have a couple of locations we’d prefer but of course that depends on the finances and general state of the world.

Time will tell, but the idea of living somewhere quieter, smaller, and with beautiful countryside on our doorstep really appeals. Quiet walks along country paths, long bike rides without having to negotiate irate drivers on busy roads, a slower way of life.

Dumbarton isn’t a bad place, like most towns it could be better, and we are lucky that we have beautiful countryside on our doorstep here too, it’s just that the proximity to Glasgow means it’s usually inundated with utter bampots who will happily queue for hours to double/triple/quadruple park at some of the easier to reach parts of Loch Lomond, and seem to pay little attention to what they leave behind. Yes tourists mean money but ugh, they also means noisy inconsiderate morons.

Ahem, no YOU’RE a grumpy old man!

Anyway, the current thinking is to move north. Probably. Or New Zealand. Or maybe Canada.

Right now it’s all a dream but we are starting to consider the move in terms of how we want to live our lives, what we really want from a location. What are our must-haves? Can we live without a good cafe nearby? Would we prefer to cycle everywhere if possible? Do we want to live near other houses or get something a little outside of a town? Do we move only a little north to keep Glasgow and Edinburgh closer?

There are so many questions and considerations but we have plenty of time to make a decision and one thing I’ve learned is not to sweat this too much, what will be will be and as long as Becca and Jack are safe and happy, that’s all I really need.

Well that and a nice large garden with plenty of shade for good afternoon naps…

My Mac Apps 2025

Slide from WWDC25 presentation on new MacOS, showing various icons and options

UPDATE: This post was super useful and made setting up my new MacBook Air (15″) super easy a few weeks back. I’ve switched out a couple of apps, and added one for those of us who have a ‘notch’ on their laptop screen.

I use iCloud for Documents, almost entirely use default Mac Apps these days anyway, so I’m intrigued to see what I’d ‘bring with me’ in terms of apps.

The list below is one I’ve maintained and updated over the past few years, it’s slowly whittling down (Sherlocking to the fore) to only a few and mostly (I think) because I’m just too used to having these apps supporting my usage, or as part of my … ugh… workflow.

So, a fresh install of MacOS26 and here are the apps I think I’ll reach for … but first, probably worth pointing out some of the apps I’m aiming to drop.

The biggest one (usage wise) will be to replace Day One with Apple Journal*. My biggest gripe when Apple launched Journal last year was that it wasn’t available on my Mac (where I do most of my writing), and that it didn’t have multiple journals. Well, both of those have been ‘fixed’ and with the aid of Shortcuts I can automate logging some parts of my life (workouts, weight-ins, mood updates), as well as the more wordy entries. I’ve found the prompts on the iOS app useful too so it bodes well. Day One is a great tool but no longer offers me anything else I really need or rely on.

It’s also bye bye to Raycast. I’m sure the power users will keep it but I only ever really used it for launching Apps and finding documents (and occasionally as a quick calculator/converter), all of which I will now be able to do in Spotlight.

It’s a big change from how things were in 2015, 2020,Ā  or 2024 that’s for sure.

Apps

  • Tot – Ā£20 (on iPhone or Watch, free on Mac) a wonderful utility for temporary text capture/edit. “Tot is an elegant, simple way to collect & edit text across your Mac, iPhone, iPad, and Apple Watch. It’s your tiny text companion!”
  • Simplenote – used to easily get chunks of text from my work PC (via Simplenote web to the Simplenote App on my MacBook/iPhone)
  • Pixelmator Pro – Ā£50 – because sometimes you need a little more power than the standard image editor gives you. Has just been bought by Apple so I’m intrigued as to what will happen to this app next!

Utilities

  • AppCleaner – FREE – for when I want to remove some of these apps, it’ll find all the related files and get rid of them too.
  • AltTab – FREE – For those who also use Windows, this provides a smarter CMD+Tab app switcher, which includes sub windows too. So, if I have 3 draft emails, I can bring either one to the front.
  • Ice – FREE – menu bar tidier (less visual clutter)Ā 
  • MacMouseFix – FREE – finer control over scroll direction between trackpad and mouse
  • Today – FREE – a simple menubar icon that shows list of events for the current day, but if that isn’t enough, try..
  • Dato – Ā£9 – more extensive but same idea as Today (same developer too)
  • Pure Paste – FREE – automatically paste as plain text by defaultĀ 
  • StandApp – hourly reminders to stand (because I don’t always register the notification from my Watch)
  • Wallpaperer – FREE – A lovely little app that grabs an image each day from a given Reddit.Ā 
  • Caffeine – FREE – one click to stop your Mac going to sleep until you say so, handy for viewing movies, keeping Teams showing as online 😜 etc.
  • Supercharge – Ā£15 – adds in even more little useful things, cut and paste files, automatically open app windows if minimised and much more.

    Notch

    • Alcove – Ā£16 – adds a variety of useful system updates into the ‘notch’ of newer Macs.Ā 

    So, do you have a Mac? What apps are must haves for you?

    * Not quite, one thing that (as usual for Apple) is baffling missing is the ability to target a specific Journal via Shortcuts. I’m still pushing more journal entries into Journal though, and trying to figure out how best to import the 2000+ entries from Day One.

     

    Songs that last

    A depiction of songs and music, with various instruments and music notes on a muted background

    Both my parents were musicians, my Dad played guitar and banjo (and one appeared in his folk band on the same bill as The Corries), my Mum played the piano, both sang in local and national choirs; vague recollections of my Uncle conducting them both in Paisley Cathedral for a performance of Handel’s Messiah, a piece that still evokes rich memories. I can’t remember a time when we didn’t have an upright piano in the living room (on which I learned to play) or when there wasn’t music of some form playing from some part of the house.

    Music was a constant theme of my childhood; Sunday mornings my Dad with the Sunday broadsheets, classical music on the stereo in the living room. Car rides with Status Quo, Neil Sedaka, Barry Manilow. My discovery of my Mum’s Beatle LPs (and fan club single!). Walking into the kitchen to hear Guns N Roses Appetite for Destruction on the cassette player, Dad thoroughly enjoying it – he’d heard the kids at his school mention it and thought he’d check it out, blew my 14 year old mind and I quickly ‘borrowed’ it for my own growing collection.

    Queen though were, and remain, my band. I have added others over the years of course, but we had their Jazz album on LP and it was chockful of hit songs (Bicycle Race, Fat Bottomed Girls, Don’t Stop Me Now), otherworldly sounds (Mustapha), and beautiful ballads (In Only Seven Days). Without realising it, they were forming my love of song writing, of rock music, and of meaningful heartfelt lyrics.

    For all their rock legend antics, some of the quieter album tracks are my favourites, stepping away from the bombastic, stadium rock defining songs, you find songs with a folk feel (’39), and quiet piano driven ballads arrive gently more often than not.

    Another constant in our house was books, both my parents were avid readers, the local library a weekly visit, and soon I too was happiest with my headphones on and my nose in a book, devouring words whilst well crafted songs seeped into my brain.

    Is it any wonder I’ve always been drawn to meaningful and thoughtful lyrics, always tended to imprint my own thoughts and moods on them. The joy to be found in words, written or performed, is a core memory and as I’ve grown, and learned more about them, the pleasure found in a beautiful turn of phrase has only heightened.

    And of course, as with most art forms, it’s the emotional highs and lows that hit the hardest.

    Then came a band called Pearl Jam, willing to lay their emotions bare to an 18 year old who was, I now realise, already starting to struggle with who they were, what kind of person they wanted to be. An 18 year old who was pushing against what he was told he ‘should’ do (go to University) as he wasn’t even sure what he enjoyed the most. I hold no grudge against my parents for wanting me to push myself academically, I was smart enough to do so, but part of wishes they had allowed me to indulge my love of music a little more than they did.

    Although to be fair to them, I constantly railed against practicing the piano, pushed back on having to learn, and given that my sister ended up with all the actual musical talent, and my achievements were only achieved by repetition and hard work, well, I can see it from my parents point of view.

    If I could go back in time I would push myself to move into music production, the intersection of art and technology (think Trent Reznor), and possibly into more composition than performing. But life doesn’t work that way so I remain an avid, amateur, admirer of music in many genres, and double down on those written with a smart eye to the English language, to the poetic couplets and gentle meters that the best lyrics always contain.

    Music has gotten me through many good and bad times in my life and the emotional connections born and made remain vivid and bright. It’s something I hope I can pass on to my son, to have a house full of music of all kinds, to remain interested in whatever he discovers, and then on to the utter joy and exhilaration of music performed live.

    Handel’s Messiah is my first memory of live music, in Paisley Abbey (I think) as my parents were part of the choir, my Uncle Bill conducting, and I was sat in a pew (likely with a colouring book to keep me entertained). It’s a very vague memory but the opening chords still bring that memory to the surface, just as moments witnessed and held on to form a large part of my love of live music, Guy Garvey pointing at me from the stage, my own tears as Eddie Vedder opened their gig with the deep rumblings of Release Me, Skin from Skunk Anansie crowd surfing her way to the first banister in the O2 Academy in Glasgow, and so many glorious moments of joy at Glastonbury festival that I’d need an entire post just to capture them.. (makes note to write an entire post of my memories of attending Glastonbury).

    I continue to curate songs into playlists, discovering new artists as and when I can (current obsession is Doechi), and revel in melodies new and old. Music is a core part of who I am, and songs that chart the stories of my life only resonate deeper and deeper as I age and, as I watch my son grow I do so in the full knowledge that I will, at some point, pass on my own tastes in some small way to him but remain excited for him to start making his own discoveries.

    The other day he started doing a wee chair dance to some music and it filled my heart with joy, between his Mum and me, I’ve no doubt that music will also become a backdrop for his life.

    Dear reader, you may think some of this sounds familiar. I did too (there is nothing new etc) but it turns out I have covered some of this already.

     

    26 years and counting

    26th Birthday celebration

    My appetite for writing down my thoughts continues unabashed. Admittedly a lot of what I’ve been writing about recently has been very private, given the utter shit life has thrown our way through October last year to even the last couple of weeks of this year but, as it does, things are levelling out.

    I’m being oblique for good reason, just as I haven’t gone into great depth about my sisters sudden death because her daughters may read this (well her oldest, her youngest is only 4) nor have I really talked about the circumstances surrounding my Mum’s sudden death, this isn’t the place (nor is it my place) for such details because, at this point, the details are pointless and don’t change what has happened. Nor is it my place to comment on more recent sad news (fuck cancer is all I’ll say).

    But I am still here, and so is this little blog, still chartering it’s (filtered) way through my life.

    I do wonder what my son will think of it all, how much of it he will be able to parse, how much of it he might start to see himself within, and which parts he won’t understand at all. Of course by the time he reads this blog (presuming he has a cursory look at least) he’ll have likely read all the letters I’ve written to him these past few years (43 letters and counting) so who knows what he’ll discern or even care about. I am very aware this blog means a lot to me but very little to anyone else (as it should).

    It is odd to think of this blog through a different lens, I mean I know other people read it from time to time, but mostly it’s always been a way for me to think out loud, to share my thoughts into the void. That vain desire remains, still pushed by the one time someone said something I’d written helped them and by all the comments and discussions held back in the early days when we all had blogs because we had time for them…

    My blog has long stopped being a focus for me, it’s not a priority, yet it remains and these days, that’s all it really has to do.

    I do still wear sunglasses though.

    Vera went to Mull

    Sunset on Fidden beach

    Back from a glorious week on the beautiful island of Mull, part of the Inner Hebrides, a three hour drive punctuated with a 45 min ferry crossing.

    It’s our second holiday here with family, the first was in 2022 with a very young boy, a big tent, a night in an Air-BnB, and a night in Tobermory Hotel. That year I was supposed to be taking part in a cycling event on Mull but I underestimated the amount of training I’d miss with a young baby keeping us busy so I ditched that and we just noodled around the island for a few days before heading to the campsite.

    This year we decided to stay in the same campsite on Fidden Farm. It’s a beautiful little campsite right on the beach, about an hours drive from the main ferry (mostly on single track roads so time depends on traffic), and of course this year we were taking our motorhome (Vera) for the week.

    Picture of our motorhome at the campsite in the sunshine

    And what a beautiful week it was, sunny blue skies almost every day, a slight breeze to keep the midges away, long walks on the beach, cake stops, a wander around Iona, and lots of fun and laughter with Becca’s family. Jack had an absolute ball running around with his Grandpa, his Uncles and Aunts, and even occasionally with his boring old Mum & Dad!

    It was our first time not on a fully serviced pitch with Vera, no electric hookup, no handy tap near the van, but thanks to the glorious weather, we had no issues at all. The joy of solar panels, and an LPG gas powered fridge freezers! Yes, quite a difference from the last time with the tent.

    It was also a much needed holiday for me and Becca. We’ve been through a torrid time, all of which I’ve covered here, and between the good company, the sunshine, and a lack of a great signal on our phones, it felt like a proper break from reality.

    I had a little time to myself on occasion too, and one evening sat on the rocks on the shore, watching the sunset bleach the sky from blue to orange. It was stunningly beautiful and I took the time to think about my family as I realised that this is exactly the type of thing I’d normally have shared with them. It was sad that I couldn’t do that any more. I cried a little, then reflected on my remaining family, and the immediate (inherited) family I was sharing the holiday with and reminded myself how lucky I was to be there under that sky with all those kind, caring people.

    A boy playing in crystal clear water on the beach

    But mostly, it was a relaxing time pottering about the campsite and the beach. Somehow doing nothing of much makes the days both luxuriously long and pass by far too quickly. We stopped off at Tyndrum on the way home for a night too, just to give us a little decompression before heading home.

    Vera was a joy, and the more we use her the smoother it goes as we learn all the little ins and outs. A very worth while investment. And for those wondering… She’s called Vera because we used the money i inherited when my Mum passed away to buy her.

    Mum’s name was Lynda. But she had a little electric wheelchair that she nicknamed Vera. I don’t know why she called it that (we did have an Aunt Vera but don’t think that’s why).

    Anyway, we already have another long weekend scheduled in Nethybridge in a few weeks, and maybe another couple of get aways once the school holidays finish too, the beauty of having a motorhome, we can just jump in and go!