balanced view

Since I got some bliss counselling to help me deal with the approaching hordes from Australia, I've been able to reframe the whole thing in my mind. Forget feeling guilty and indebted. In fact, they should be grateful to me for accepting their hospitality for all those months. They live in the most isolated city on earth, and I brought some unique weirdness and Scottishness into their lives. Who do they think they are? Trying to make me feel bad. When they phone, I'll tell them to piss off!

I feel better already.

---

They phoned just now, and it's all worked out fine. I'm going to their hotel at 7 on Wednesday morning, for a morning constitutional with the head pict. Then we'll meet the others and go somewhere for breakfast and I can pick up the tab without breaking the bank. And because it's early in the day most of them will be sober. Such good fortune! What was I so concerned about? If only I was a proletarian I would never have worried in the first place.

PS - must remember to double the bliss pillage on Wednesday.

here they come

There's half a dozen Scots folk arriving in town today, to experience the New South Caledonian New Year celebrations. Fortunately the house is like a building site and I can't ask them to stay, so I should escape the worst of the alcoholic poisoning. But I'll need to spend some time with them. I'll try to arrange it for early in the day - as far as I remember, as a rule the never drink before breakfast.

These are dear people and I love them, but it's complicated. A long time ago when I was at a low ebb following the loss of my cats, my home and my partner, I landed on them in Perth, Australia, where they live in the suburbs. They are the classic working class Scots who escaped to build new lives in the colonies. Though they didn't know me from a bar of soap, I was Scottish and they took me in and looked after me for several months. I think they could tell I was a bit of a basket case. I felt touched yet embarrassed at their generosity. And they didn't ask anything in return! The most selfless thing that I did in return was to keep my hands off their 17-year-old daughter. In the daytime I was free to go for a jog, sometimes in 40 ° of heat, before grazing through their fridge and lying by their pool. In the evening when the adults came home, I was forced against my will to drink beer and watch videos.

The main couple were like a big brother and sister to me, or maybe a mum and dad. It was a regression for me. To be looked after, in some ways better than I ever was as a child. And in such a comfortable and permissive environment.

These folk are salt-of-the-earth types, which is lovely, but a slightly uneasy combination with a former minor aristocrat like myself. I've never felt comfortable with their non-stop proletarian digs (not just at me, but also at each other and the world in general). And maybe they're not 100% relaxed around me and my sensitive new man reserve.

Maybe another problem is that they're a large and happy clan, and I come from an insular and troubled nuclear family. I used to feel overwhelmed when I had to go for dinner with the Edinburgh jewish princess's extended family. Doctor Robert would probably diagnose it as a weakly differentiated ego or something, but what does he know?

When I left the Perth clan, and went to live in the UnHeard Of group of islands, I missed them, though it was also a relief to be away. How can I now show them I love them, without embarrassing any of us? Probably the most acceptable way to return their kindness is to pay their drinks bill when we meet, but to do that properly I'd need to sink a lot of beer myself. Either that, or stay on sodas and watch them from the outside as they get shit-faced, loud and obnoxious.

I'm hoping my bliss partner will come along, unlike me she's very good in company and can charm them while I pass around photos and keep the drinks coming. Maybe it won't be so bad after all. I'll just open a bottle of homemade Freedom Ale now, to limber up the liver.

3 wishes HNT

1. I wish for a worldwide end to all horribleness.



2. I wish there was a chance of wish number 1 ever coming true.



3. I wish I had more time to blog and read blogs. I've got a huge backlog of things to show and tell, but no time to do it. But one thing's for sure - early next year I'll be posting the world's first 3-D HNT. Get your red-and-blue glasses ready.

christmas tree HNT

This week's HNT theme is Christmas Trees.

On my last trip to Sydney, I visited the Sculpture By The Sea outdoor exhibition. This sculpture is a tree made out of giant pea pods. Maybe it's a beanstalk.

tradesman tourette's

The kitchen project continues - 40,000 dollars down and two months out of my life so far. The last tradesman finished today, and the remaining work is down to me now, so I'll have no-one to blame but myself. But still, in idle moments I still find myself thinking about that plasterer and swearing out loud. I think I'm suffering from that new syndrome, Tradesman-related Tourette's Syndrome (TTS).

The plumber today was from Larkhall. He's been here in New South Caledonia for three years, and has had enough, heading home for New Year. I can't see that Scottish New Year drunks are any better than the ones we have here. When I asked why he can't stand it here, he said he misses his family. Aha! Everything balances up - I'm a Scot who came to this godforsaken country precisely because it's as far away as possible from my family. I never have to worry about homesickness and missing people. What a fortunate creature I am!

When I assumed the plumber supported Motherwell, he explained that there's only one football team for someone from Larkhall - "the boys in blue", i.e. Glasgow Rangers.

That was my lame attempt to appear to know something about football. At the moment I seem to be waking at 4 a.m. every night. Instead of just lying there for a couple of hours, I get up and do 10 minutes' yoga, then I get straight back to sleep. What a fortunate creature I am!

For no reason at all, here's a photo I found while browsing (browsing for what, I forget). The place where I found it was mocking this person, but I think they're quite brave.

trade balance

The only thing wrong with project-managing the building of your new kitchen is that you have to deal with tradesmen. I shouldn't say that, because it's not quite fair - I've had some wonderful tradesmen too. But I've had one or two shockers, people who really need the services of a good psychiatrist.

You might say that when half the tradesmen are great, and half of them a disaster, it's a fair balance. But it's not. The bad ones bring grief, sorrow and lamentations into your life, whereas the good ones are conflict-neutral: they just get on and do the job you're paying them for.

Last week I had the plasterers from hell. If the universe was properly balanced, the good plumbers for example would be beautiful Thai whores, dancing naked in their tea-break before finishing off your pipework. That would be fair compensation.

das coitus interruptus HNT

In Almost Like a Whale: The Origin of Species Updated Steve Jones compares species to countries:

Species and nations have a lot in common. What, for example, is a German? The tribe has a shared and guttural means of communication that interrupts intercourse of most kinds.

What does the last part mean? It could mean they interrupt each other in conversation, but that's not unique to Germans - Australians do that too.

Or it could mean they talk during sex, I believe some people do that.

I should know the answer, because I'm half-German, as you can see here. This week's picture was taken a long time ago on the day I finally gave up trying to grow a moustache, and shaved it off in stages. The half-nekkid part is the top lip.

If you're desperate, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts.

scheissbier

I tried a weissbier that they sell here - Schofferhoffer. It's from Munich, and it's properly cloudy, so I had high hopes. But when I opened it, there was none of that strange off/yeast smell, and the taste was disappointing.

The only place you can buy Erdinger here is in an overpriced pub in the city, and then you still have to find your way home. One day I'll make it back to Piddledorf, where the weissbier's cheaper than water. Or maybe I'll be able to buy Erdinger in Edinburgh. They're almost anagrams, so that should help.

boxing childhood HNT

When we were growing up, my brother and I had 2 pairs of gloves and an adjustable punchball. I used to set the ball high, to practice defending myself against bullies. My brother used to set the ball extra low, to practice beating up little guys. You can tell from his stance that he knew how to handle himself, but I seem to be punching myself in the head.

He went on to become school boxing champion. I gave up sport and joined the school shooting team, because you could smoke under cover of the gunpowder smells.

If you're desperate, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts.

after a long period of bliss

Things are a bit annoying just now, but I suppose that's only fair after such a long period of bliss. The rebuilding work is going on around me. The man with the sledgehammer was here yesterday to demolish things, and today it's the tradespersons with drills and their own sledgehammers. Thank goodness for the home brew and the ear muffs.

Two months ago when the kitchen designer was here, he said that getting a new kitchen is the most stressful thing a couple can go through.

Well it's true that one discovers things about one's partner that one would rather not know.

I've been with my partner for about ten years, but some visitors to this blog have been in their relationship for 20 or 30 years or more. Imagine what things they must have seen! Oh, the horrors!

ukulele HNT

This week I've had to cheat and re-cycle an early HNT from two years ago.

There's vaseline on the lens to ensure good taste. Apart from the soft-focus effect, this holiday snap, from my ukulele tour of Greece, is not photoshopped. It's clickable, so you can click through to see the surrounding beach.

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If you're desperate, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts.

birthday flowers

There was a birthday here, and someone was given flowers.

The present I gave was a combination of

1. cooking a candle-lit seafood dinner.



2. dropping my veto on having a cleaner, in fact I arranged for a husband-and-wife cleaning team to come and make some impression on 8 years of mess.



3. caring for the flowers and taking their photies (not photoshopped, though I notice some annoying artefacts crept in after I posted).

my favourite thing 3 (HNT)

I have a few favourite things that I've held onto for years.

Last century, when I was studying Sociology, there was an oil crisis, and Britain was having power cuts virtually every day. Factories were shut for half the week.

I was doing some home repairs and I needed to buy a drill. I was convinced that capitalism was on its last legs before a new stone age, so what was the point in buying an electric drill? So I bought this brace and bit instead.




Well, pretty soon the oil crisis ended, and I relented and bought an electric drill. But the hand drill was a good one, and I wasn't going to throw it away. It has never been used since, but last week I found a use for it, drilling holes in a new door.

And this week I found another use for it. By the way, it isn't photoshopped.






Does anyone else have favourite things that they've held onto for years?

If you're desperate, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts.

poor service

Lee Ann recently experienced bad service in a restaurant. She had to wait ages before they even took her order. Then another long wait before they brought the (wrong) food. And after the meal there was another long wait to be allowed to pay.

I could never wait that long. Firstly, if they don't take the order quickly, I'm out of there.

Ditto if they take the order but then they take ages to bring the food. Life's too short.

And if they don't want to take my money at the end of the meal, I leave the money at the desk or on the table.

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Here's another good idea - if you're buying a newspaper at the newsagent, and there's a long queue because the person at the front is buying lottery tickets or settling a bill, just walk to the counter and lay the money on the counter, then walk out. Legally, the transaction is complete. Try always to have some loose change and small notes in your pocket, for occasions like that.

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Waiting in line at the supermarket checkout is impossible to avoid, but at least they lay on free magazines and chocolate for queuers. At least I assume the chocolate's free.

deifheids defeated (HNT)

If you think I'm a nice person, or if you prefer to think the best of people, you might prefer to skip straight to the photos.

deifheids (pronounced deef-heeds) - people who are unable to listen to anyone else, because they're too busy talking about themselves. [from the Scots deif=deaf, heid=head]

Since our weekend away in the country with the deifheids, we haven't seen them again, and it has become clear that they've finally had enough of me! Over the years that I've known these friends of my partner, the deifheids had learned to live with all my antisocial habits. They even got used to me putting plugs in my ears and walking away in the middle of one of their well-worn monologues about themselves.




But something I did during the weekend away must have been too much for them, and they're not returning our calls.

At first, I couldn't imagine how I had achieved this. Did they take offence at my swearing during a public spat with my partner? Did they object to me urinating off the veranda? Or perhaps my persistent photographing of cowpats was too obvious a sign of my priorities?




No, I think I know how I did it. The communal food that they brought to the farmhouse was mostly tough red meat and designer nibbles. And the food that my partner had brought was the same kind of stuff. The only thing we packed that I would willingly eat was peanut butter, and that somehow got lost on the journey. So we sat down to eat, and people were drooling over a tub of designer food, a coarse dry paste made of pine nuts, parsley and parmesan cheese. Three horrible ingredients on their own, when you combine them it's like sand and vomit. I picked up the paste, sniffed at it with disgust, and said it smelt like the scrapings from under someone's foreskin.

Well there was uproar! The female deifheid threatened to punch my head in. In a pretence of soothing her, I said "no, you're misunderstanding me, I'm not getting at you, it's only your food that smells like smegma. You don't stink of penis cheese."

Yet offence was taken. There's no pleasing some people.




Finally, after hunger forced me to eat a wad of the foul stuff, I got a sore stomach and spent the rest of the holiday in bed, where at least there was peace and quiet.

Just before we left to come home, I perked up, and as the four of us did a whirlwind cleaning and packing blitz, I was enjoying the teamwork, so I said "this is the best fun of the holiday, why didn't we do this for the whole time?"

That was about 4 weeks ago, and I've had a whole month without having to listen to the same old deifheid monologues. What a fortunate creature I am!

If you're desperate, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts.

the home gym

Last weekend I bought a home gym.



This weekend I assembled it, which turned into an all-weekend project. It's a bit like doing a 3D engineering jigsaw, marvelling along the way at the ingenious design using about fifteen pulleys. And it's much better and safer than the old bench and barbells I had been using. Of course, I'll never look like anything other than a 9-stone weakling, but at least I'll be a strong weakling. And it has even helped me get back into doing yoga.

The second time I used it, I tore something in my shoulder while trying to develop pectoral muscles. Later I read in "Weight Training for Dummies" that the Pec Deck should really be called the Shoulder Wreck, and you should never use it.

So now I had to look around on the internet for specialised exercises to help heal rotator cuff injuries. But then I remembered I already know what to do - yoga! At work yesterday I tried a couple of sun salutes, various warriors and the chair, and I feel the benefit already. If I do the yoga regularly, eventually I may even be able to start using the home gym again.

This is another way to injure yourself on gym equipment:

my favourite thing 2 (HNT)

As a sentimental old fool, I have a few belongings that have served me so well over the years that I would never dream of parting with them. One of them is a pair of scissors which I have used for several decades.

I was living in Glasgow, and I knew a woman who was a professional hairdresser. She was shocked to hear that I had been cutting my own hair with kitchen scissors. When she knew she was dying, of cystic fibrosis I think, she gave me her pair of proper hair scissors. What a difference they make!

Since then I always cut my own hair. I use two mirrors so I can see the back of my head. Just think of the money I've saved over the decades! Of course sometimes I look like I've fallen under a lawnmower, but what do you expect for nothing?

BEFORE and AFTER

She said that if I looked after the scissors, never using them on anything except hair, they would last a lifetime (mine, not hers), and so far she's right.

I didn't know her well, but every time I cut my hair I think of her, which is the nearest I get to being spiritual.

If you're desperate, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts.

£1m donation for study of Scots around the world

Yesterday the Glasgow Herald ran a story about an Edinburgh University graduate who has donated £1m in royalties from the novel "Alma Mater". The money will be used to study the contribution that Scots exiles have made around the world.

John McKenzie's gift to the Scottish Centre for Diaspora Studies is believed to be the largest-ever private donation to a history project at a British university.

Mr McKenzie, who studied history at Edinburgh, is a leading bliss merchant based in the city.

The focus of the centre's work will be on examining how Scots have shaped societies, economies and culture in countries around the world, for example in New South Caledonia.

It is hoped that one of the first beneficiaries of the funding will be the Cross-Cultural Blogging project in the UnHeard of & McDonald Islands.

ikea hacking

ikea hacker is a blog where people contribute their IKEA hacks - unorthodox ways of using IKEA products.

I have sent them one of my hacks, and will link it here when they accept and post it. Meantime, here's a picture of what I did with 2 identical items and a few dollops of blue-tack. Can you spot it?

HNT slugs

When I turned over a stone in the garden, I was pleased to find this unusual-looking slug creature. I took two photos. It's actually wide and flat, and completely white except for the tattoo-like marking on its back.









Some people confuse slugs with snails. The difference is that snails can shelter in their shells, but slugs have no shells and so are more vulnerable.

For comparison, I have included a picture of a common snail pulling its head in to escape danger.

If you're desperate, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts.

PS - I cheated this week, the photo is not of me at all. My willie wouldn't fit in the shot.

how the logo came about

I have been sent a tasteless but amusing email, showing how the logo for next year's Olympics was designed. After the recent regrettable business over China's growth and the blooming hundred flowers I'm reluctant to provoke another international incident by publishing it here, but if you want to see it, email me:

moxy85 AT gmail DOT com

my favourite thing 1 (HNT)

As a sentimental old fool, I have a few belongings that have served me so well over the years that I would never dream of throwing them away. One of them is a spoon which I have used almost daily for several decades.

I was 19, and went to visit my partner at the time, my first serious love. She was living in a college residence, and I stayed overnight (a great sin in those days, worse than spoon-theft).

In the morning, she went for breakfast, and brought back some cornflakes or something, for me to eat. I kept the spoon, originally as a souvenir, but then I came to treasure it, mainly because of its design, the sensuous shape, and the way it has no harsh edges, so it feels smooth to the touch and has great mouth feel. I'll leave you to speculate on any symbolism.




Whenever I reach in the drawer for a spoon, I ignore the ones from the matching cutlery set, and look for this one. Very occasionally I'm unable to find it, and fear it has been accidentally thrown out. But it always turns up again.




It has no monetary value, but it adds something to my life, as well as reminding me of someone I was close to for several years until I left her for a woman who taught me the spoons position.

I also have a favourite knife, favourite fork, and favourite plate, all with their own stories, but that would be another post.

If you're desperate, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts.

desktop wallpaper

I was semi-tagged by Bunny to show you my no-clutter desktop:







I'm supposed to tag five friends. Obviously that's impossible but please tag yourself and leave a comment here.

to balance or not to balance

Last Wednesday, under the influence of performance-enhancing tea, I swam a mile without stopping. That's a personal milestone, literally.

The next day, I was booked in for an exercise stress test of my heart at the hospital. At first they said they couldn't go ahead with the test because my blood pressure is too low (80/45) and I might fall over. I reassured them that I had never fallen over before. So the test went ahead. They wire you up, then put you on a treadmill and ramp up the speed and increase the slope, until you can't take any more. At stage 4, even though my blood pressure had only risen as far as 130/60, I begged for mercy. They said that for my age I was officially in excellent cardiac shape, and that after I came off the treadmill my heart rate recovered to normal unusually fast.

Unfortunately the rest of me has yet to recover. I've been too knackered even to blog. I've been so knackered that I had to cancel a visit to my therapist, which is a pity as I had planned to ask him about my friend. The friend lives in Edinburgh and is suffering from a suspected case of bipolar disorder.

Because everything balances up, down here in the South Pacific I've been suffering from unipolar disorder. My mental state has been too unrelentingly smooth. Back in the days when I was in the habit of taking half a bliss pill every 2 days, I was happy. Then I read somewhere that the drug disappears from the blood after 24 hours, so that meant the bliss levels must have been fluctuating wildly. So these days I take a quarter of a pill every day, and though it's true I'm more stable as a result, I am continually snarly.

I can't decide which is better - to dip in and out of ecstasy and dismay, or drift smoothly along in continuous resentment. What do you think?


Meanwhile, here's the japonica thing again, transforming from bud to flower:

HNT - booboid pics and a booboid joke

In honour of os's other HNT Boobie-Thon theme in support of breast cancer research , I'm posting some unusual views of this truly versatile organ.

The first one is a re-post of an old HNT picture, showing a bottle of my home brewed beer, I think it was an extra strong brown ale. What is unusual about this photo is that it's photopoeic¹, i.e. having a visual quality that imitates the effect of the object it is describing. In this case, a severe case of brewer's droop.

¹ - from the Greek words "photo" (image) and "poio" (verb meaning "to create"). Thus it essentially means "image-creating".








JOKE:

A family is at the dinner table. The son asks his father, "Dad, how many kinds of boobs are there? The father, surprised, answers, "Well son, there are three kinds of breasts. In her 20s, a woman's breasts are like melons, round and firm. In her 30s to 40s, they are like pears, still nice but hanging a bit. After 50, they are like onions." "Onions?" "Yes, you see them and they make you cry."

This infuriated his wife and daughter so the daughter said, "Mom, how many kinds of willies are there?" The mother, surprised, smiles and answers, "Well dear, a man goes through three phases. In his 20s, his Willy is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his 30s and 40s, it is like a birch, flexible but reliable. After his 50s, it is like a Christmas tree". "A Christmas tree?" "Yes - dead from the root up, and the balls are just for decoration."

the empire strikes out

Last week, it took the Ph.D. of the ghastly Condy to warn the world that stabilising Iraq will be a lengthy process. And she's one of the smart ones! If it wasn't so tragic it would be funny.

The Aussie writer Larry Buttrose reckons

US forces are beaten ... by an enemy without fear or moral scruples, and by their own foolish commander-in-chief who dispatched them to a war that lacked any clear goal and was always unwinnable. They have been betrayed by a mixture of gullibility, bravado, greed and simple bloody-mindedness. They are spiritually defeated, beaten by men who possess little more than spirit. ... The cost of keeping them there is astronomical, but the final cost item ... is that while America has been making war, its real opponent, China, has been making money.

In Iraq, we may well be witnessing the eclipse of the US as the world's leading power. Lose, draw, stalemate in Iraq - especially lose, the most likely outcome - the US will never be the same. Once beaten, its spirit will not recover, and it will go the way of Egypt, Athens, Rome, the Ottomans and Britons.

Even before losing this war, America was said to be experiencing imperial overstretch: the total of the United States's global interests and obligations is nowadays far too large for the country to be able to defend them all simultaneously.

Could any blogvisitors who have studied American economic history comment?

Buttrose adds that the U.S.

... is being surpassed by peaceful, resourceful China, clever China, ruthless China, China one in nationhood and in spirit, a nation of history, of antiquity, which daily grows stronger and ... stands at the brink of economic triumph over the First World's first nation, the US.

The years 2001-08, September 11 to the Beijing Olympics, have been critical for the US, and may well mark its turning point towards eclipse. They are also the years of the Bush Jr presidency, when George W. made America history.

If you want more evidence, look at Mattel, the world’s largest toy maker, which recalled (allegedly) dangerous lead-painted Chinese-made toys, but today decided to apologize formally to China.

For an opposing view, see e.g. "China's growth is hollow".

Meanwhile, in other news, most world airlines are falling over themselves to equip their planes so that passengers can use their own mobile phones in flight. The world's most popular phone banality - "I'm on the bus" - may be replaced by "I'm on the plane".

The only rational news item is that Led Zep are reforming for one concert in November.

snow flower HNT

It's spring here, flowering time for the so-called Snow White Ti Tree Leptospermum scoparium (aka Manuka or Tea tree), a native of New Zealand and southeast Australia.

(click it to big it)

If you're desperate, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts here.

clive on mao

Readers of The Observer in the 70s and 8os will perhaps have enjoyed Clive James' TV criticism as much as I did.

In James' most recent book, Cultural Amnesia, he describes more than 100 different people who defined the 20th-century. One chapter is about Mao Zedong:

Let a hundred flowers bloom, let a hundred
schools of thought contend.
-MAO ZEDONG, APRIL 1956

For the trick to work, millions of people had to believe the words meant what they said, even though the Party had never rewarded a contentious voice with anything except torture and death.

Anyway, the suckers fell for it. The flowers bloomed, the schools of thought contended, and Mao's executioners went to work. The slogan had the same function as the Constitution of the Soviet Union, which Aleksandr Zinoviev tellingly defined as a document published in order to find out who agreed with it, so that they could be dealt with.

Cultural Amnesia, p 457

People who still insist that socialism would have been great but it was never given enough of a chance, are using the same argument as my grandmother. I can still remember her telling me that Hitler had great ideas but they were never given a chance.

back from the bush

Just back from the long weekend we spent in the middle of nowhere, avoiding George Bush, but not avoiding the holiday traffic. Drove most of Friday to get to the shack, and all of Sunday getting back again.

While we were away, according to the Sydney Morning Herald, the US President, for whom the English language is "not a tool so much as a room full of baited mousetraps", praised Australia for hosting "the OPEC summit ... I mean APEC summit". He went on to thank "the Austrian troops" for helping in Iraq.

While at the shack I amused myself by recording one of the deifheids detailing their various bowel infections over the years. I'm tempted to turn it into a podcast.

Was a little shocked to discover the dog has a killer instinct, trying to take on a bull in the field next to the shack. And at one stage she ran off deep into the woods after a 6-foot red kangaroo, probably introduced originally from Australia. One kick or a punch from that and she'd be dead. She must have made some kind of contact, because when she eventually came home she had a limp and her tail between her legs.

Great dog-walk this morning. The spring flower-burst continues:

going bush

George Bush is stopping off here on his way back from the APEC conference in Australia, so we're leaving town to see the more interesting bush. This is a photo of the bush shack we're renting:




We're going with the deifheids.

(deifheids n. - people who are unable to listen to anyone else, because they're too busy talking about themselves.)

No TV, radio or telephones. Just deifheids jammed on repeat play. Thank goodness for earplugs, and I'll be able to talk to the trees and the dogs. They usually listen.

I'll try to take some invertebrate photos for ion.

ion - I cannot find any "leave a comment" link at your place. This is happening with one other blog, so it may partly be a problem at my end.

then and now

In response to Os's DT theme and Lee Ann's then and now challenge. Amazing how photography has improved over the years.