Christmas rant

The shallowness and misguided judgment of our species infuriates me. Why do people try to conform with the norms of society? Why do they want to fit in to social groups, and be respected? Respected by who? Arseholes who have as much integrity as them…which is none!! A majority nation of wouldbe Freuds who believe they can grasp an insight of psychology where they psychoanalysis others to fix into their own narrative into something comforting to them but know fu&king nothing, only social media memes which they sound off on to mask their ignorance. The growling pumped up paper tigers you come across that try and give you that alpha-male dominant stare when really you already have their measure and know how easy it would be to punch them in the throat then drag them across the floor by their ruptured eye sockets but it’s the disciplined self-restraint which stops you doing exploding to this extreme. but that constraint is considered a weakness? You slouch trying not to intimidate, exaggerate carefulness and act shy, look away, act a clown cause there is a difficulty finding a middle ground when you have experienced the extreme and know how that feels!! The release of it all. Just as is displaying good manners and the etiquette of politeness, it’s almost as if people see this as a deficiency to fit in and as a certain innocence but that is also a measured discipline as it would be easier and lazier just to show rude indifference and not care a damn, it’s not a naïvety to display old fashioned mannerisms, on the contrary, you know exactly how things are but that same mannerism holds your tongue from speaking out your observations and how you weigh that person up, as if you really believe someone is not worth your time then you would just ignore them and never bother. Always allow people to underestimate you, never display your strength only use them as a last resort. Others will judge you on what they believe they see but expect you to judge them on what they believe to be their inner person, but really they are just weak feeble fools. Socialising can be such hard work….here endeth my rant.

Coffee Nap

Drinking a cup of coffee followed by a 20-minute rest can give you an effective siesta that fuels your day and refreshes the mind. I have been doing this recently as I am a terrible sleeper at night and these wee coffee naps help me get through my day. Great if I’m off work and needing to finish reading a book and find myself drifting off on the sofa or if I’m studying or need a little boost before hitting the gym later.

Sound madness or even counter-intuitive? After all, we drink caffeine for alertness, not to sleep. Here’s how it works and the science behind it. A quick coffee nap is an incredible way to boost energy and productivity during your day because of what goes on in your brain as it’s happening. When you drink caffeine, it passes to your small intestine and gets absorbed into your bloodstream. It then kickstarts your brain chemistry by blocking receptors normally filled by similar energy transferring molecules of Adenosine, a chemical compound in your brain known for causing drowsiness. Adenosine makes you feel sleepy by slowing down your brain’s nerve cell activity; so when caffeine binds to your receptors instead of Adenosine, the reverse happens… When caffeine takes Adenosine’s place in the receptors, it has the opposite effect; the nerve cells speed up giving us that jolt of caffeine energy and focus. he brilliance of the coffee nap is that sleep naturally clears Adenosine from your brain! I like to think of it as “steam-cleaning” the neurological pathways From the moment you drink your coffee to the moment you metabolize it is about 20 minutes of pure opportunity to not only rest, but to open up those Adenosine receptors to the caffeine you just imbibed You don’t have to fall into a deep sleep for a coffee nap to work. Half-sleep or “nonsleep dozing” has proven to be just as effective. I usually kick back on my sofa, TV off, parrot in a quiet mood and then I stick an eye mask on to darken my vision. A strong cup with 200mg of caffeine in the optimal amount, try to get it down your neck rapid and not sip it too long, caffeine tablets can work too although I have only tried it by drinking coffee. It’s important not to sleep any longer than 20 minutes as you can fall into sleep inertia, which is harder to wake from. You also need to be awake when that caffeine reaches your brain so I get my watch to vibrate on my wrist or my phone to ring. I have experienced little surreal dreams whilst coffee napping when I a sleepy limbo state, little recalls of memories I thought I’d forgotten…..quite strange. It has been scientifically proven to work. In several UK studies, researchers found that when subjects took a 15 minute coffee nap, they scored higher on a driving simulator test. In Japan, scientists founds their subjects scored higher on memory tests after coffee naps.  Subjects also claimed they felt less tired.

We Live in Deeds, not Years

There is a poem which I love called "we live in deeds, not years" We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest: Lives in one hour more than in years do some Whose fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins. Life’s but a means unto an end; that end, Beginning, mean, and end to all things—God. The dead have all the glory of the world. I really like this but being an atheist I would prefer there was not a reference to an omnipresence which is understandable considering it was written in the 1800s and Bailey was influenced by Bryron so I much prefer the “bastardised” secular version on this which the modern philosopher A.C. Grayling used in the introduction of his “Good Book” secular Bibe which goes as this.... For we live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; and our time should be counted in the throbs of our hearts as we love and help, learn and strive, and make from our own talents whatever can increase the stock of the world’s good. I read this over and over again and it never loses its initial impact on me! Although I do miss Bailey’s “fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins” which is so descriptive of many who we unfortunately meet in the paths of our lives. Our life can feel like we are on a roundabout, a carousel like you see at the Edinburgh Christmas market, a merry-go-round at a fair. We wake up, go to work, finish, go to the gym, go home, eat, read, sleep, repeat. Perhaps go out to a club or a restaurant as a brief reprieve now and again, we go round and around and think that our life is a good one, but really we are fooling ourselves, “fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins” there is no adventure in this. Do we think we can find adventure in an all inclusive holiday sipping cocktails by a pool? Does our hearts throb if we play tennis or golf at the weekends? Are we really coming off that turn-table or are we still just going around and around? One day that carousel we ride turns into a whirlpool, a vortex that threatens to suck us under. The most recent “vortex event” in my life was a prolonged death and decay of my dear mother who over the period of 3 years lost all her facilities to Alzheimer’s disease then eventually succumbing to vascular dementia. Sometimes we need that vortex to wake us up from the sleepy momentum that we experience on the carousel of life, something to put everything in perspective. We can’t and should not wait for such events, if you are lucky and blessed then perhaps such a whirlpool will not disrupt your life, hopefully when the cold hand of mortality lands of your heart due to someone that you love’s death it will not be so intense. so I have a little advice for you, as you go spinning around, turn one eye to the side every now and again. Look over the edge of the carousel and focus on a fixed object. Find a way to calculate your progress otherwise life will just pass before you wake up. We do need the bad so we can appreciate the good and understand that life is too short. Even when we led a blessed life without risk we still yearn excitement. The earliest stories even cite this, allow me to use a story from the “goat herder’s guide to the galaxy” the Adam and Eve story, they lived in a paradise, immortal, without labour or any pain. But still this abundance was not enough, what they lacked became their want!! Even in Eden they felt denied. They never had that perspective to value what they had. What is good without evil, love without hate? In my case I value life more when I have saw death up close and held the person I loved as I felt her last breath turn to air on my cheek, that puts life in perspective and how short it is, experiences such as that, also of my father and brother, such experiences open your eyes and allow the light of life to shine in. Perverse though as it maybe, the logic of it cant be denied. How can you truly appreciate seeing your opponent being counted out when you have never tasted the canvas yourself? How can you walk off a stage after a presentation and feel 10 feet tall if you have never knew the ache of painful shyness? We are not the fictional (by secular words) Adam and Even so we don’t have immortality but at least on these shores as I write from Scotland in the UK (and visitors to be blog will surely have access to the internet wherever you are so not 3rd world) we are spoilt with abundance and need the Damocles sword to dangle above our heads, we need adventure!! We yearn danger. We are creatures of desires that can not be satisfied and of dreams that will not come true yet we must set sail into the horizon every now and again to meet the storm face on, because it’s there that we will find the excitement we yearn for and will feel more fulfilled. Its outside of our comfort zones where we grow and develop the most. It’s these moments were our hearts beat the fastest. Each and every one of us should know these moments and continue pushing and seeking them out. Some maybe more extreme than others but each one of us has our own personal battles to face and we should not judge others, what they struggle with we may take for granted but that does not mean the mountain they have to climb is any less than the one we face, each to their own, we all have our personal demons to fight. The two most important events in my life are when I held my son’s hand for the first time and when I held my mum’s for the last.

Every ounce of my being when looked upon my son was a hope that he will be happy and lead a fulfilling life to the full, when holding my mum, I cried with the memories I had with her knowing that this would be the last. My hope is that my time comes it will be my son holding me, knowing how much I love his and having such memories with me, and I also want to know that in my life, despite any deficiencies or awkwardness I had, I lived it to the full and fear never deterred me from adventure. Never feel making a fool of yourself attempting to enjoy life. The fools are these arseholes who attempt to judge you as they sit on the sidelines, when the day comes to cash in your chips if you have led life to the full you will regret nothing!! Life is too short for fears.

Democracy ...an insult to the few but felt by the many

I touched lightly on the flaws of democracy on a post during the summer and wanted to write a little more about it. The trouble is such views can sound patronising but democracy can be a very dangerous this with the gullibility of a certain portion of the masses. Plato once famously insisted that the ideal society should be run by philosophers. Just as the master of a ship must be an expert in the craft of navigation, so too the master of the good society must be an expert in the craft of good governance. And just as you shouldn’t allow any old Tom, Dick or Sturgeon to become the master of a ship, so you shouldn’t give them mastery over a society either. That is Plato’s case against democracy. Governance requires experts so step up to the mark Philosophers. It’s of my opinion Brexit result was the consequence of giving too much powers to the wrong sort of people. The reason we have representative democracy rather than direct democracy, is so that the various institutions of government are able to ameliorate (ameliorate …do you like that word? Used my online thesaurus for that one) the fickleness and ignorance of the ordinary voter. “Sometimes he drinks heavily while listening to the flute,” said (well sneered) Plato at this ordinary voter. You could these days say “drinking Tesco wine whilst reading the Daily Mail and watching loose woman on the telly” Asking the opinions of such people is bound to cause trouble. They are not bright enough (sorry, but its true) to know when they are being manipulated (which is so easy now with fake news and all its trimmings) and not expert enough to know what’s best for them so “clever” people should have more of a say than others in how this country is run. My social media “friends” will certainly remember frustrations we shared or pitted against each other during the Scottish indy referendum. John Stuart Mill was another more recent (well….the 1800s recent) philosopher who believed something similar to the great Plato. In 1859 he published his Thoughts on Parliamentary Reform (you can buy this on Amazon but its heavy going and feels dated) , in which he proposed a voting system heavily weighted towards the better educated. “If every ordinary unskilled labourer had one vote … a member of any profession requiring a long, accurate and systematic mental cultivation – a lawyer, a physician or surgeon, a clergyman of any denomination (personally I don’t agree with the Clergy getting any votes), a literary man, an artist, a public functionary … ought to have six, a British Telecom TSO engineer should be at the top of the tree with eight” he wrote (well OK, I added that last part in about a BT engineer, called it a writers liberty but you get the idea). When stated this baldly, it is surely obvious that the desire to maintain so-called political expertise is actually a thinly disguised attempt to entrench the interests of an educated middle class. How we all lambasted these Eton Tories and once thought Labour represented the common man (and the Scottish Nationalists are a party of protest unable to govern, a belief I still hold and feel vindicated upon after 10 years of their (mis)rule). Labour (under Corbyn) for me now, have sold out their “working class values” since they sold their soul in an alliance with The Muslim Brotherhood (victims of taqiyya or just power hungry at any cost?) , they should hang their heads in shame and we should all be protesting because for all democracy’s flaws its better than theocracy which a stealth sharia law implemented would install of these shores….but I am diverging here and have wrote about this on prior posts.

Simply why we Must!!

As we grow older, we give more value on stability because stability promises us security. But security does not develop us, the problems we overcome finding security or creating it does. You can do that only by exploring into the unknown, where things are not so familiar and you must think outside of your daily pattern. And that’s how you develop new aspects of your character Remember when we were still kids and were scared of trying new things? By doing the thing we were scared of, we felt the most alive. By doing the same routine every day we are living a mechanical existence. Our brain use the same neurons and neural pathways. The countless other neural pathways and potential neural connections stay dormant, all these other ways of seeing the world are unused. But once you go to an unfamiliar territory to explore, your mind fully activates and you see things with a greater clarity. By trying new things wehave never done before, it’s normal to feel a little afraid and have anxiety. That’s a healthy response to new situations. However, being strong enough to not let those emotions decide for you is what builds our confidence. Amazing things start to happen once we break out of our comfort zone. Because they’re new, they’ll appear weird, crazy and epic. These things are full with details and emotions. They shape great stories and interesting conversations with people. People would always like to hear about your new adventure and the crazy things you encountered along the way. Even if you are really bad at telling stories, just sharing your memories from outside of your comfort zone makes you a lot more interesting person than anyone who rarely escapes their comfort zone. When we spread our wings to fly, we see different communities and worlds that exist. we get to learn from them. We can discover new things. There are a lot of sports, activities, foods, books, events and music to experience. There are countless places and people to get to know. Learn to dance the Salsa even if its completely outside your comfort zone, in fact if it is then all the better, travel to another country and get lost then find the path again....you will also find yourself. There are categories we can explore that we never even know are out there. The world is a much bigger place than we can ever imagine....never stop trying new things....new adventure......simply because we must!!!!!

Jack

I miss the old guy so much. Jack Dormer, my old boxing coach. They just don’t make men like this anymore. He was a gentleman, never swore in front of a lady, never boasted and no one could consider him a vain man, he had done plenty to be proud of but he was so humble. He was like a second father to me and a lot of the lads at the gym. He looked after us all, not just in preparation for the ring but outside too, he spoke up for a lot of the kids when they got into trouble. Jackie has a reputation as a quiet and polite man when he was young, not a drinker, kept himself to himself, trained hard and was a fine diplomat for the sport of boxing. I have written in this blog about Gentleman Jack "Rockfist" Dormer before so I won't write too much here about his again. Just saw a few photos which brought back some nice memories of this Gentleman again.

I heard the story about another boxer who lived near Stirling at the Raploch. Ginger Lamont, a polar opposite of Jackie. Ginger was loud and brash, a bully and liked a drink. He never liked the recognition Jackie was getting and every time Jackie walked by Ginger’s house he would shout out a challenge to come in his garage for a “sparring” session. Of course Ginger was looking to chin Jackie with a sucker punch and increase his profile in doing so. As the story goes one evening Jackie accepted and when Ginger attempted a liberty blow Jackie countered and knocked the bold Ginger clean out, unlaced his gloves and went home. This is just one of the many stories I have heard about this beautiful man. Never from his lips but from sources, reliable sources such as my mum who lived around Stirling at the time. As a nurse she also remembers a drunken violent Ginger Lamont during his last days in a mental hospital (Bellsdyke), a jaw broken so many times his mouth would not shut proper. She also recalls Jackie, a gentleman, a quiet man always immaculately dressed and always polite.

Jackie died a few years back, the last time I saw him was in ASDA near the checkouts. He was so proud of these little cards he had printed with his name saying he was a trainer. I introduced him to my son Sam who has very young at the time. Sam never met my Dad, whom he is named after. My dad passed away many years before little Sam was born. It’s a lovely though that that Sam did get to me another influential man in my life, the legend which was Jackie Dormer. One of the last true humble warriors of the fight game. These days we see plenty loud mouth, tattooed, knuckle draggers who talk a good fight. If attitude reflected ability then these people would be so dangerous, but no…they are just pumped up white-collar “pillow fighters” would are not fit enough to lace on Jack’s gloves. How I miss sitting on the bench with a towel across my shoulders listening to Jackie’s “gospel”, the meals in the fancy restaurants we were treated to after the wine and dine shows, sitting there with cuts and bruises and stinking of deep heat, amongst tables with affluent rich business men but we enthralled with this old man’s stories and each treated like winners by him even if we fought and lost that evening. Jack Dormer, one of life’s true gentlemen.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Below is a poem by Dylan Thomas, a Welsh Poet. Its called... Do not go gentle into that good night. The essence of this poem is struggling to survive; pressing on to live as long as you can in the face of death, even if it means suffering. People who know me well and how I support euthanasia and the works of Dignitas may think its a strange choice of a poem but they are missing the point. Its not about the "finally suffering" of loved one as many of us unfortunately have experienced, I see it as not getting old gracefully, as I grow older I am getting conscious that there is so much I still need to do, places to see, things to learn....so much more. Pipe and slippers are long way off yet, we are only as old as be feel and at 45 I still have the passion of a teenager but now with the wisdom of age, although sometimes we need to tuck our "wariness" away and seek out adventure, create the memories we desire. I see this poem as a strong invocation for us to live boldly and to fight, we have one shot at this life so make it count....no regrets ... Non, je ne regrette rien as the song goes

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The Lessons Learnt from The Old Man and the Sea.

I am a huge fan of Ernest Hemmingway, at least as long as I can remember. I especially love his book “The Old Man and the Sea” based in Cuba,there is just something special about this book that compels it to be read then re-read again. There is a certain echo of Hemmingway in that book, manliness. As Hemmingway said once… “A man can be destroyed but not defeated.”, and this is so true and something I believe we must always reflect upon. (now although I use the term “man” in this post, but these lessons are not gender specific) Success is all too often assumed to be the indicator of the value of a man. But success, in and of itself, merely speaks to a particular status and may have nothing to do with the journey that the man took to get there, or whether or not he retained his integrity along the way. I, myself have been very blessed in life, I have a good secure career, I had the most wonderful childhood to reflect upon due to having the very best parents and brother during that time, I have my heart opened by having the most precious son who although I have not seen in years I am still so proud of and love him. I have travelled and ticked off many boxes already on my bucket list but what I am most proud of is that I have retained my integrity to get at this point where I am just now, I have nothing to prove to anyone and have proven all I need to myself. I have never stepped on anyone, lied to or used anyone and I have always respected and loved my family to the very end. These are the values that pay off, no matter what shit life kicks up at you, if you can live with yourself then you have the strength to overcome. There is something about old Santiago’s life in this book which I can relate to…In the book Santiago is an old, experienced fisherman who hasn’t brought in a catch for months. On the 85th day of this dry spell, he heads far out into the Gulf of Mexico where he hooks a giant marlin. Unable to pull the fish into his skiff, he holds onto the line for three days before killing it with a harpoon. After lashing the fish to his boat, Santiago heads home with his hard-won prize. But along the way, sharks reduce the fish to bones, and the old man returns to port as he left…empty-handed. The universal truths of a man’s existence within this world are the pride, respect, tenacity, and dreams which fuel a man in his quest to thrive in the face of struggle, these are universal truths we must always consider. There are so many lessons to take from this book, another for example is from the passage.. ““He was shivering with the morning cold. But he knew he would shiver himself warm and that soon he would be rowing.”…this is that a man bears pain and hardship without complaint. In the context of the book Santiago is presented with the greatest challenge of his life. It comes in the form of an eighteen-foot marlin and makes for a long, long battle that spans days. Near the edge of his exhaustion, Santiago’s hand is cut deeply and cramps up “as tight as the gripped claws of an eagle.” He washes the cut in the salt water and lets it dry and warm in the sun. But the hand refuses him and he is forced to work with his right hand alone, against the powerful fish that is two feet longer than his own skiff. Drained, Santiago “settles against the wood” and simply “takes his suffering as it comes. He is comfortable but suffering, although he does not admit the suffering at all.” Now reflect upon this in our lifes!!! The bitching we hear in the work place, in the gym….all the excuses. Let’s face facts here, our problems are minor, we live in the first world and are spoilt, we suffer for this, when I go traveling I prefer to get off the beaten track and meet the real people, in fact I make a point of it, with no airs or graces these people accept you more for the person you are, if you mix with people who don’t have much but appreciate life then it will (can) rub off on you. When I use to box I preferred the bouts in Miners Welfare clubs than the wine and dine events in fancy hotels which had these fat drunken shits dressed up and shouting for blood, so called pillars and businessmen who have never had to physically fight baying for blood and flashing there richness and trophy wives or “partners for the evening”. Observing such scum brings me to another lesson which is that a man does not boast. From the novel Manolin asks Santiago , “Who is the greatest manager, really, Luque or Mike Gonzalez?” “I think they are equal.” Answers the old man “And the best fisherman is you.” “No. I know others better.”….such a lovely exchange of words. The quality of a man is best seen through his actions, and developing humility is a key ingredient in letting our actions do the talking for us. Santiago is given plenty opportunity to boast during a conversation with his young friend, Manolin, but he does not. Boasting only briefly satisfies insecurity. It should leave no lasting impression on the crowd who hears.Some people will mistake mild manners, a soft voice and politeness as insecurities, people will underestimate your strengths but never fear this, life's real fighters don't need snarl, growl or pride themselfs strutting like peacocks, again referring to the fight game, a high held chin is a sure target for a knockout, keep your chin down and ride the punches out. My mum use to always tell me that an empty drum (barrow) always makes the most noise and how true, this is something I have witnessed may times, more consciously with the boxing and other work but also observed through many aspects in this life. These paper tigers making fists in photos, big fighting talk and their hard man strutting, how foolish they look, how easy they fall. If there is one lesson people should take away from this book, then its that a man’s legacy comes from maintaining his integrity. Legacy will endure far beyond any monetary gain. Every man has sharks that circle him; they gather when they smell the blood of real achievement. If you are a good person there is always people out there who wants to take advantage of it to their favour. Always be yourself, most people will judge you on how they want you to fit into their narrative, don’t be disheartened, never play your hand unless you are forced too, it’s always better to be underestimated than overestimated. Follow the examples of Hemmingway (apart from his brashness and heavy drinking that is and only throw fists in defence) seek out experiences, don’t do holidays, do adventures, cocktails on the beach, lying beside the pool on an all-inclusive and golf resorts can wait until your too old to tango and it’s when you return home you can rest with the mundane day to day working life but also find adventures in life too, learn to box, dance the salsa, hang out with people who know true happiness, read these books you have never touched on your book shelf but always keep your integrity, nothing at the expense of someone else, always be polite, wear your heart on your sleeve and smile, don’t growl…life is too short, ask Santiago, A man doesn’t quit.

My Son's Birthday

Today my son Sam turned 14 years old.
On the 5th of November 2003 just after 3pm the most important person in my life was born.
After being born, due to him being extremely premature he was whisked away to the neonatal ward, once settled there I was allowed to visit him, I tenderly placed my hand in his incubator and he grabbed a hold of my finger, words will never give justice to how I felt.

A new level of emotions opened up to me then when I had my son in this world.
A joy, a love, a pride but then also a fear, I knew then and know now, when you have someone in this world that you love unconditionally with all your heart you now have a vulnerability, an Achilles heel, a raised chin which you can never protect and if someone can’t hurt you direct they will use who you most love to get at you.

 I have not seen Sam for near 3 years now, I have fought exhaustedly for near 5 years to have a relationship with my son, I have never given up, how can it be possible to give up on someone you love?
Not as long as I have a breath in my body shall I give up on my son. I can’t go into details about this struggle, firstly because its ongoing and a very antiquated family court system don’t not look kindly on publishing its failures, secondly I refuse to criticise someone as it I can’t change who is Sam’s family, Sam will read this blog one day as the internet makes the world a small place, and I have no intentions to influence his mind.

 For someone to attempt to cut away half of a child’s roots is unforgivable, I refuse to follow suit out of spite as this would potentially damage my son more, I am not a religious person my there seems to be a balance in this universe and Karma seems to work, Sam won’t be a child for ever, it’s easy to manipulate a child but as they grow they start to wonder, they get curious and the truth always finds a way to surface.

From my point there is two ways I could go as my heart hurts missing my son, I could go down the weak road, feel sorry for myself, get depressed and self-destruct or I could become a stronger person, build my life, progress in my career and be the support and stability for when my son comes back into my life either still as a child or an adult as after such abuse from others he will need a rock and I will be there for him, unconditionally,I have chosen this latter path. I will never bad mouth anyone to him but the papers and reports will be available for him to decide himself.

One day he may be a father himself, then perhaps he will know the pain of just being away from his child for the shortest period. He will also think back how I loved him, the memories which some have tried to erase, reading his bed time stories to him, playing in the garden, going crazy golfing, the cinema, the theatre. The most important thing you can ever give your child in your time and he always had mine and always will.

 Parental alienation is more common than ever these days, but yet it not being handled by the family courts efficiently or in a timely manner. This is gradually changing. Already Cafcass, who do child reports for the courts in England have spoken out and described it as emotional child abuse, as damaging and often more so than physical child abuse.
There are plenty of papers publish by child physiologist which can be read on the internet about the damaging effect this has on children, more are getting published every week, more people are slowly understanding this.

 The tide is changing very slowly; social acceptance is changing. once upon a time a drink driving was although not endorsed by society it was often laughed off as silliness but now it is severely considered as very dangerous and a serious offence by society and rightly so, the same sample can be used about texting or talking on the phone whilst driving, over time parental alienation will be considered the same and the alienators will be identified as child abusers and rightly so…but alas like all changes of public perception this is happening very slowly and the UK is still lagging behind other countries such as Italy and Mexico where if a parent stops another parent seeing their child then they go to jail….simples!!

 I can only wish my son Sam the very best birthday from a distance, but my love never dilutes, I never give up, being a father is what I am proudest of in this world and what I am best at, I would walk through fire for him, love is an overused word in this world but it does not nearly go far enough to describe how I feel about my son. The only people who can ever underestimate this is people who don’t know real love, some people think they know but they dont. That moment when Sam held my finger a couple of hours after he was born, that was my heart committed for life, I never let go, I never will!

Whats in a name?

I often get asked about my name (Dearn) and its origins. My reply would always be that its Irish, that it was my Great-grandmothers’ surname. They lived in Coleraine in the North tip of Ireland near the coast, a place famous for The Giants Causeway. They were farmers who were prompted to move to England (Sheffield) during the Great Famine of 1845. A lot of my family history is a bit sketchy as I never knew my Grandparents as they were long gone before I was born and have no family left to ask but I do know that my Grandfather came to Scotland to work as an head-engineer for the coal mines in Scotland. After a little digging and research I have actually found my ancestry actually came from France and the name Dearn actually has French origins derives from the 7th century word "dierne" translating literally as "Hidden river" (there is an actual River called Dearne in Yorkshire), there are different variants of spelling as Durn or Durne and still recorded in France and a coat of arms was granted there. Interestingly there are links to the 16th-century France Huguenots who were French Protestants mainly from northern France, and were inspired by the writings of John Calvin and endorsed the Reformed tradition of Protestantism. Many Huguenots suffered cruel treatment because of their religion they were a persecuted minority in France during most of the period from the early 1500s until 1789. Many left France, many went across ocean to North America, some to South Africa and some to Ireland (as apparently my lot did) So there are many inhabitants of these lands who have Huguenot blood in their veins, whether or not they still bear one of the hundreds of French names of those who took refuge in their respective lands (like my Great Granny being a Dearn) I don’t know but being the original refugees they brought the word 'refugee' into the English language. Well I never knew my ancestors where once refugees fleeing persecution from France exiled by King Louis XIV, grandson of Henri IV. During the “great escape” from France men who were caught, if not executed, were sent as galley slaves to the French fleet in the Mediterranean. Women were imprisoned and their children sent to convents. Well there you go…..perhaps that’s why I detest religion so much after being brought up a Protestant, convert to Catholicism then “seeing the light” becoming an Atheist and considering myself a Secular Humanist.

In Praise of Shadows

In Praise of Shadows is an essay on aesthetics by a Japanese writer called Junichiro Tanizaki, it was originally published in 1933, with the English translation coming out in 1977. It’s a very slim and short book. The words in the book, although translated from their original Japanese are so beautiful and almost feel mystic when reading, well that’s my opinion and the book has a very personal special place in my heart, last year (2016) I spent some days and nights with my elderly Mother in her care home room, she was unconscious during this time, as I awaited her passing I held her hand and said so many things. During the quietness of the evenings into early mornings the silence scared me, I read this book from cover to cover in a low voice to her 4 or 5 times, savouring the words and not missing the irony how many years ago it was my mum who read to me when I once was an eager bright eyed kid demanding a bedtime story. I just needed a voice in the room, I needed my mind to concentrate on something other than the laboured breaths of a lady who gave me life and a wonderful childhood, this book provided that respite during these sad times, if my mum heard me read or not, I will never know but in a way I can’t describe, I felt a comfort reading to her these evenings. It also felt fitting as it was under just a reading lamp as the lights were dimmed, the shadows crowded around her bed and my chair pulled up at an awkward angle side onto to her bed so I could hold her hand the balance the book of my knee as I read from it, a strange irrational need I felt to be holding her hand when she passed from this world. There is still something about shadows when we fear, the imagination is powerfully drawn to these things that the eyes cannot see. I felt this these evenings in the dusky regions of that room where the light could not penetrate. Have you ever hear of a painting called The Night Watch by Rembrandt? It looked a very dark painting but one day it was restored and cleaned, the “night” was found in reality was actually dirt and the painting was actually set in broad day light. With the grease and dirt gone the magic of the canvas was lost and tourists passed it by in the galleries and the post cards for sale of the painting remained on their racks, this is the appeal of the dark shadows. I have deviated from this post which I intended as a book review but when into a big of a personal gush, I have covered the circumstances in which I read this book as to describe why I have a certain personality affinity with this little essay book. I can only recommend you to read this little book, it’s an eloquently strange book on the Japanese sense of beauty but it also feels like an act of meditation to read, a poetry of words which you almost taste as they drip from your tongue, it’s also an elegy to a culture perceived to be receiving it's last rites, making it part clarion call, part last post…a swansong as the cancer of the modern world overwrites the beauty of the past. “We find beauty not in the thing itself but in the patterns of shadows, the light and the darkness, that one thing against another creates.” 

Escape to Cuba

In a previous post I covered some literary boltholes but I missed a very important and appealing one, a little fishing village is Cuba called Cojimar. A real town where a fictional fight happens between an old fisherman called Santiago and a giant marlin. The story is from the most beautiful book Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway. A book when read at home you can almost feel the salty sting of the fishing line in your hands and the sun blistering the back of your neck out at sea, just imagine how the experience must be sitting outside waterside reading this book in the salt air of this little fishing village east of Havana? An experience I intend capturing within this next 3 months! Unfortunately, my Jura travel companion Rocky (my African grey parrot) won’t be able to join me, this adventure I fly solo and without much Spanish in my vocabulary I do expect to get lost at a few twists and turns but this is what I consider a holiday, not these “leave your soul behind as you disembark off the plane” all-inclusive lay by the beach and pool jobs, or these equally safe golfing holidays or guided tours. Why has evolution shrivelled up our sense of adventure? I want to experience the real people, the real places, make an arse of myself, the good natured Gringo trying to dance mambo when high on rum but smiling at his own foolishness mirroring the laughs around him. People tend to accept you if you are genuine without airs and graces, why arrogance and conceit when we are all the same under our skin on this little blue dot, only certain ideologies can separate us, money does not make people a better person. Although I have seen the worst of people, liars, cheats and manipulators who will invent a narrative of you to justify their own failings, I still believe in humanity and good grace appears to present itself in people who live a simple and happy existence, its therapy just being in such people’s company, in a western world where speaking out and wearing your heart on your sleeve is seen as a weakness it’s good to revert back to such company, I use the word “revert” but its evolve which is the weaker path regarding humanity in this vein. It’s not only the Hemmingway trail I want to see (it’s a short book which I intend re-reading in an afternoon by the sea whilst sipping from a bottle of Havana rum) there is also much to see…El Morro, Christopher Columbus Cemetery, House of Jose Marti and his memorials, Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabana….there is plenty, although these which I have just mentioned are touristy there are plenty twists and turns on the road to get lost and discover other places, the boxing gyms, chess games with locals over a bottle of rum. I am looking at accommodations, the hotels are not really the best across there but there are such places as "casa perciulars" where families rent out spare rooms where you can bed down and get a breakfast around the family table speaking (or in my case, attempting to communicate) with the real Cuban people. This would give the real feel for the distinctive Cuban culture and spirit and also helping out people instead of big hotels. The escape, the culture, the adventure and meeting good people and sitting around a table with a genuine family, this would be a paradise for me, and one which I will be jetting off to on an adventure soon, we are a long time dead so I don't intend wasting time, memories created now are the ones which sustain us when we are too old to create any more such adventures !!! **Update** Flights purchased, adventure secured for January .....Havana here I come ...whoop whoop ...solo Gringo planning to get off the beaten track, off grid and using "Casa Perciulars"across Cuba to get the authentic taste of this vibrant country. Better brush up on my Spanish and buy some colourful shirts :-)...off the grid and meeting some genuine uncomplicated people is looking very appealing.

European workers in the UK (Brexit post)

What will happen if it strains of Brexit means European workers decide to go home? At the last count, there are about 800,000 young people in the UK aged between 16 and 24 who were ‘not in education, employment or training’. I suspect that there are plenty more in this miserable category over the age of 24. Bear in mind that all politically important statistics are massaged in some way to conceal the ghastly truth so don’t paint a true picture. It is the jobs that such people used to do which are being done by migrants. As the liberal Left ceaselessly and rather stupidly point out, much of what goes on around us, from the NHS to the picking of fruit, restaurants, the care of the elderly (it was a “foreigner” who often cared for my Mum in the nursing home during her dementia and she was such a kind caring person I could never thank her enough) and the running of all those coffee shops, depends on migrant labour. BUT migrants don’t work for the NHS or Costa Coffee out of charity. They do it, perfectly reasonably, for money. Why don’t unemployed British people take more interest in these jobs? Why do many our nurses have to come from other countries? There are perhaps three reasons, which no government dares do anything about. The first is the collapse of the old-fashioned family in the UK, in which the young learned how to behave. This is worst among the poor. When I was a child I would never dream being cheeky to an adult, luckily I was brought up in a loving environment by (much older) parents who considered it their duty to learn me right from wrong, respect and good manners. Some children who have never known a father’s authority, have never shared a meal around a table, can barely read and who speak a sort of mumbled teen patois rather than English, are not going to be any employer’s dream. They only know a life in from of the TV with an Xbox, left alone in the house when they parent goes out clubbing only to return drunk and swearing and perhaps with a different man every weekend. Forcing them to apply for jobs they don’t really want, from employers who really don’t want them and who would much prefer someone from Spain, Italy, Portugal or Poland with a much better work ethic, and let’s be honest, in my experience people from such European are usually more skilled, family orientated and harder worker than UK folk and don’t need to get drunk to enjoy an evening. Then there is also our shameful state school system, whose teachers are often themselves ill-educated and recruited out of desperation from government schemes. The system strives in vain to teach an academic curriculum to young men and women who really need vocational instruction, because we cannot admit that not all boys and girls need or want the same sort of schools. At the end of this process, the victims are forced into debt to attend university courses far inferior to old-fashioned vocational training (and don’t dare be ignorant enough to think the old worn out SNP rhetoric that Uni is free in Scotland, you need to wake up to the reality on that one) Schools are guilty of teaching kids what to think and not how to think!!! And the third is our welfare system, which responds to failure and misbehaviour by indulging it – a policy which ends by using tax revenues to maintain the unemployables lifestyles beyond their just means…i.e. Sky tv, fags, holidays, drinks and other crap which are luxuries and should be used as an incentive to work. All these subjects are issues that ambitious career politicians should address but to do so, you would have to breach the modern taboos of sexism and egalitarianism. And you would have to do something even more heretical – argue that people are responsible for their own actions and lazy Brits to get of their arses and actually work but ohhh the sandal if anyone was to say this, and the army of media thought-police will come after anyone who says this out loud…it would be political suicide for a politician to say this. They are jobs out there still and plenty of them, I know people who have only been here from another county a few months and already they have found not one job to do but moved on from one to another when a better post arises, but lazy, fat UK citizens would rather sit on their arses and claim all they can with benefits, we now have generations in this county who have never worked a day in their life!!!!!! That’s shocking!!!!! It’s my opinion Brexit is a big mistake, we need migration here, we need foreigner workers, many of whom I have meet are in skilled intelligent professions and extremely talented putting UK professionals to shame, even the workers in less skilled jobs have a superior work ethic, if Brexit negotiations make it harder for Europeans to come here to work then who will take up these roles? The quality will plummet, the skills will plummet, even the lesser jobs, the standard will go down and the UK will become a poorer place. We need this diversity. I am against the mass migration of Muslims due to the intolerance of their ideology (yeah yeah….I can almost hear your ignorance now regarding my views upon this) but it’s not (certain) cultures and “foreigners” which don’t integrate, mix and enrich these shores, its Ideologies and Islamisation has no tolerance despite certain acts it may perform to work its deception and taqiyya (look it up) to get into power and public acceptance to further its cause. Brexit is not a good thing by any way and this is going to effect the UK very negatively if we lose out on European workers coming here to settle and work.

The Ugly Truth of Britain's Grooming Gangs

Be forewarned, this is a very uncomfortable post to read. I have a bee under my bonnet about all religions, I really need to write more especially about Catholicism but Islam is by far the most dangerous and a very extremely ugly ideology which needs confronted. Like the naïve majority, many of us believe the Leftist narrative, namely it was 'a racist myth' that organised Muslim groups in Britain are luring white schoolgirls into sex, this is young girls who are groomed, taken to Muslim men’s houses where they and their friends have a sex party which they call a “session’!! Disgusting and sickening, but this IS happening and too many are turning a blind eye for fear of being labelled “islamophobic” The true nature of this grooming phenomenon was known about more than 20 years ago. Now if you have read my previous posts you will know my views about religion but Islam is by far the worst, the most dangerous and its infiltrating the west and risking the democracy which we have taken for granted so long (see my disenchantment with labour post) If you think such posts are “racist” then you are ignorant, a race is not something you can convert to or apostate out of, religion is an ideology and Islam is not only a religious ideology, it’s a very barbaric one too once you peel back the veneer and see its true meaning, it also covers every aspect of life and even the most “moderate” Muslims born and bred in the west is compelled to follow it ever increasingly or they are shunned from their family and culture, there is no compromise, this sort of multi-culturalism just does not work. To ignore this uncomfortable truth is cowardly and a disservice to the innocents. There are people who I describe as “heros” in every sense of the word who are outspoken against Islam, people such as Ayaan Hirsi Ali who is under constant police protection and in fear of her life, yet we bury our heads in the sand afraid to give the slightest criticism in case some ignorant fool may think what we say is motivated by hate, NO, we criticise Islam as we love humanity and stand against ideologies which are intolerant of others, this is true brotherhood of the species, Islam, as most religions (to a lesser degree compared to Islam) retard the human race. (I am starting to rant a bit but this is something I am passionate about and it sickens me now people choose to keep quiet and their ignorance to learn and educate themselves) If you want to find out more then I would recommend to read Easy Meat by Peter McLoughlin, it covers the Rotherham sandal. Rotherham is down by Manchester and official reports have finally admitted there were more than 1400 victims in this otherwise unremarkable town and the author describes how the authorities were involved cover-up of this scandal and how the Islamic communities kept quiet and protected their own. This is not just an isolated case in one area, it is happening up and down the country, with many thousands of new victims are coming forward every year. The book exposes how political correctness was used to silence potential whistle-blowers, and how this grooming phenomenon demonstrates that multiculturalism does not work, Islam is an ideology which places non-Muslims as low and second class, especially women (even Muslim woman are restricted especially once married, many are banned from using social media online and fear being shunned by their community and family if not complying to their “imported culture” and ideology. I have spoken with a few, one who was disowned for dating a Christian guy and another left her country fleeing abuse and can never return for fear of death) This story here is not just the wave of Islamic migrants, this is also happening with British born Muslims and within their communities up and down the UK. Now if we are to believe the media then the perpetrators of these horrendous crimes are “Asian” men, this is a far too broad description, we know the religion of these men. If a Neo-Nazi did crimes against the Jews would we ignore the Nazi ideology behind it and consider it irrelevant? If a radical socialist bombed a conservative party function would be say his political activism was not relative to his crime, yet we are ignoring how Islamic ideology is justifying the rape and grooming of young girls (does that sound too strong? Well it should!! Because this is what is happening, this is what people are ignoring and saying these old clichés about a religion of peace) There is a pattern here, these are Muslim men, the majority of who have been born here. Why does the media insist of saying “Asian” men? This is staining the character of multiple innocent communists, Japanese, Korean, Hindus, Indian Sikhs (a side note here is that due to Sikh victims by Muslim grooming gangs, some Sikhs in Britain have already resorted to vigilante justice, filling a vacuum because the police are hindered by politicians fears)… all these Asian communities are also falling victim to Muslim grooming gangs!!!! I only have the statistics for England and Wales, this is from 2011, in the UK (eng & wal) Hindus are 1.5% of the population, Sikh 0.8% and Muslims 5%.... Now let’s look at the prison population, 0.9% of the prison population is Sikh, 0.5% is Hindu ….but the Muslim prison population is 15.2% (despite being only 5% of the community and despite most of their crimes being concealed by their communities) look up these stats yourself, this is shocking!!!!!! And the media has the cheek to say it’s the “Asian community” that is causing the problem!!! No, it’s the Muslim community with their doctrine of Islam are how they see woman, especially non-Muslim woman. 90% of grooming gangs convicted in the UK are Muslim (20% of these convicts are called Mohammad) And remember, these people are protected within their communities who are notoriously reluctant to supply information to the police and help their enquires if it could lead to the arrest of a Muslim and put Islam in a bad light, a survey of British Muslims found that two thirds say they would choose NOT to inform the police about a terrorist plot if they had prior knowledge!!! Now these are the ones who choose to answer the questions, many refused to give a response!!! What the perpetrators have in common is their proclaimed faith, they are Muslims and most of they are practising, on some occurrences they committed these sickening rapes shortly after attending their Mosque!!!! Islam teaches Muslims that non-Muslims are lesser mortals, especially woman as Islamic culture sees western woman in a poor light. This is a common belief of Muslim men and their culture and it comes straight from the Qur’an, even the ones born in the UK are pressured by their culture and family with this. A friend I once knew was disowned and shunned by her (British born Muslim parents) just for refusing to stop seeing a non-Muslim man. Muslim men have more leeway with non-Muslim woman as non-Muslim woman are seen as lesser people and as such pre-marital sex is not such a crime as it would be if they were with an unmarried Muslim woman but still they would have to eventual convert to Islam is married and of course their children would need to be born into Islam….no compromise. What is being done to tackle such barbaric attitudes? Nothing, that’s what’s being done. Its good these gangs are now slowly being exposed but this is just the tip of the iceberg. The Muslim communities know what’s going but they are not working with the police (at least not enough) to resolve this. Politicians are not dealing, they don’t want to be seen speaking out against Muslims in case they are considered “Islamophobic” and lose their highly paid positions, quite the opposite, see how Labour have sided with the Muslim Brotherhood, their biggest ally (just read up about Corbyn’s anti-Semitic beliefs and you can also read about how labour tried to cover up a lot of these crimes, truly disgusting stuff) Religion is the root of all evil and Islam is a massive cause!!!!

10 books

A list of 10 books which changed my life, well, perhaps not changed…..at least made me think or perhaps appreciate certain things more. It’s certainly not a list written in stone, I’m doing it off the top of my head now so perhaps I have failed to give recognition to more important books but here it is, you may notice a lack of “self-help” books here, although some are important are I do consider helpful in day-to-day learning I don’t feel any have influenced me enough to be in my top ten, as for such books as “relationship self-help” if someone needs assistance through memes and “chicken-soup for the soul” type advice then sadly your are looking for “join up the dots” on a blank sheet of paper, try reading about someone like Pablo Neruda and his works instead, such instincts are from the heart but supported with the head (importantly supported by the head) and if your parents never passed on the example of how to treat someone good with respect and manners or you have learnt lessons by experience then don’t kid yourself there is a magic formula in a book, you are just attempting to justify something or look for hope. You would not learn to box using a book, experience, hard training and many punches to the jaw teach you this, we all fall down many times hitting the canvas with a thud but we pick ourselves up and learn to be a better person because of our mistakes. Books do have a special power, each one of the 10 I list here I read in paper form, either hard back or paper back, I just don’t do kindle or e-readers, it feels so soulless reading a book in digital print, a book feels like a living breathing creature, something to lay on your bedside table, reach out, feel the grain on the pages, grow old with and watch it age yellow. There is a certain comfort holding a book, something you never experience with a e-reader. If you have ever read to a small child you can see how they venerate the book, cherish it once you put it down and almost treat it as it its got some magical power…….which of course books do…..they have the power to change us, educate us and make us think, so here is my list which is in no order……. The Old Man and The Sea…..by Ernest Hemingway Written more than 20 years before I have born, I have read this book many times, I have two copies, one is a Hardback, displayed proudly on my bookshelf, the other is an old second hand used and abused paperback, dog eared and ripped, yellowing and stained but it’s an old friend I take outside to read, the book (my copy) has seen better days, much like Santiago, the lead character who is an old Cuban fisherman. There is just something about Hemingway’s books which makes you feel part of the action and this book, for me is a lesson in persistence, never giving up even when everything seems against you. In Praise of Shadows….. by Junichirô Tanizaki This is a very short book which can be read in a couple of hours, it’s a reflection on Japanese art and architecture, not subjects I was particularly interested in but I just love the way the book in written, although it’s a translation the descriptions and order of the words feel so beautiful rolling off the tongue almost as if they were poetry. The book also has a personal spot with me, last year (2016) I spent some days and nights at my Mother’s bedside before she passed away, I was afraid of the silence as I sat next to her as she lay unconscious seeing out her final hours. Between saying all my personal stuff to her I read to her aloud from this book, I will never know if a part of her within her brain registered the words or my presence but I found it a comfort reading to her and this book as a very special place in my heart due to this moment. What Dreams May Come……By Richard Matheson Another book with came me great comfort after the death of my Father about 20 years ago. It’s about a guy who is killed in a road accident, in the afterlife he learns his wife committed suicide after his death and was in a kinda purgatory, he travels through (a) Hell to find her, It’s just so beautifully written, touching, holding and moving, the sacrifice someone would be for love. The God Delusion …..by Richard Dawkins So this a very important book to read. Everybody should read it. You don't have to agree with it, but it will still be an education. It matters, unless you believe the Sun revolves around the Earth, or that the Earth is flat, or any equivalent nonsense that science has exposed as false belief. I was an atheist before I read this book but it educated me and strengthened my belief (or lack of perhaps I should say) It helped me to stop feeling alone in my struggle of knowing we have one life to be enjoyed and which we should not waste on pointless adoration of a mythical something, Christopher Hitchens’s “God is Not Great” is also an important book to read too which is in a similar vein. Heretic: Why Islam Needs a Reformation Now….by Ayaan Hirsi Ali  I am not going to go into too much detail about this book here as you can see what I wrote about this on one of my other posts but this is a very important book to read, as it all this amazing lady’s books are. I had the privilege of once meeting Ayaan during a talk that she did, an amazing person. Read this and her other books then decide yourself if this is a peaceful religion and if Islam and its followers are compatible with democracy and the freedom of the west. Reading books alone has not brought me to the conclusion I am at, speaking to a girl who’s family disowned her because he fell for a non-Muslim who would not convert in Birmingham also discussing with another girl who is an apostate living in Glasgow from Iraq and why she can never return home…these people’s living stories I have heard and the emotions they display when telling them is powerful, there is nothing moderate about Islam and its followers on every level. Billions and Billions ….by Carl Sagan This is a very accessible easy to read science book by the visionary Carl Sagan, it also concludes with a touching epilogue by Ann Druyan (his wife) written two months after his death. The is in the form of essays written by Sagan. It’s an eye-opener of a book, why don’t they make this compulsive reading in schools? Welcome to the Universe…..By Neil deGrasse Tyson, J.Richard Gott and Mchael A. Strauss This book was developed from a lecture series designed for non-science university students, this wonderful book plots a course through astronomy, astrophysics and cosmology, assuming nothing in the reader more than an intelligent interest and a level of education attainable by a conscientious curious reader. Each of the authors brings his own distinctive voice to the telling of the story, drawing contributions from his colleagues where appropriate. The result is that this enormous subject is covered as broadly as it could be, yet to a depth that is readily accessible. Read this book and see a beauty in science which is supported by empirical evidence and not blind faith of the ego-centric believer of the Goat Herders Guide to the Universe which I call the bible. Prepare to be amazed reading this book, if the first couple of chapters don’t capture your mind then stick to your iron age book of fairy tales. The Buried Giant ….Kazuo Ishiguro Again I have already wrote a review about this book in a previous post so will not spend much time writing about it here, I will say this is a book of hypnotic beauty. There is something so sweet about the old couple in this book and how their memories are fading into a fog, I found certain comparison between how my Dad was with my Mum, and how my Mum struggled to hold on to the memories of the man she married and loved for half a century as her mind tried to fight off dementia like a figurative dragon, again this link to this book. Selected Poems of Pablo Neruda….Pablo Neruda It’s no secret that I am a big fan of this man and consider him the greatest poet who ever lived. I have written a post all about him before. Throw these relationship advice books away, they will be more use as kindle (not the e-reader type) on a fire as you read from this book to a woman to make her aware of true intentions and despite the restraints of modern society and all its falsities that there is something called love and it can be displayed by following this man’s example, being a perfect gentleman and of course, reading out to her aloud from this book. This fact and the fact that time revels all and masks slip in this masquerade ball which we all dancing a jig at, always remember to use the head with the heart, some people are just a beautifully wrapped bag of shit and we learn this from experience but the words this man writes makes us believe there is something worth searching for out there still. One Hundred Years of Solitude …Gabriel Garcia Marquez The story involves six generations of one family, established by Jose Arcadio Buendia and Ursula Iguaran, who also helped found the town of Macondo, in the lowlands of Columbia. It’s just pure escapism, that’s what this amazing book is for me. No matter how shit people are, how cruel the world can be, just pick up this book and escape within its covers to Macondo and live!!!!

Turn Right at Machu Picchu

Within this great book the author, Mark Adams, retraces the steps that led Yale Professor, Hiram Bingham, to discover Machu Picchu one hundred years ago, on July 24, 1911. The chapters more or less alternate between Bingham’s and Adams’ expeditions. The author packs a lot of information into the book. He includes anecdotes, observations and sometimes he tosses in hilarious wee humorous tidbits. He also includes information on the flora and fauna as well as Inca history of the area. He also describes what it is like today I am fascinated with Machu Picchu and have such a desire to hike to this famous lost city of the Inca's. Its top of my current (and very comprehensive) bucket list and one which I intent to tick off soon within the next 18 months. There are various trails including buses and trains but I really want to do the rough 10 days cross country trek, for this once in a lifetime trip I really want to experience the country and this book gives such a taste of Peru. I want to get off the beaten trail, my idea of hell is a package holiday, sitting by the pool, or eating the food you find back home….what is the point of this? What memories can such a holiday provide, it’s like when you step of the plane you leave your soul behind, no way…I want to meet real Peruvians, chew the coco leafs, travel the Inka Trail through the Sun Gate, get blisters and sleep like the dead each evening, hike up Montana Machu Picchu and feel like I have earned the right to be there, what’s the point otherwise? I want to do it when I am still young and fit enough to enjoy it with a passion, we all need to learn to live at times and these safe “package holidays” are a form of dying...for dead souls, I dont want to lay pissed at the pool, get off the route everyone takes and be that naïve Gringo, just always be respectful and people always seem to want to help….ooofff, I am writing too much about my feelings here when I sound talk about this great book, if you don’t already have a fire in your soul to see this great please then this book will ignite it for sure. Not only is this book a travelogue it’s also a smart and tightly written history and an investigative report into the greatest archaeological discovery of the last century. A fascinating story and wonderful account of Machu Picchu, excellently researched and very well written, a a page turner which you can’t put down, I was almost ready to pack my bags as soon as I reached the last page!! The book is just so charming, when I go I will surely have the book with me in my backpack and will read it under the stars there to milk every piece of magic and myth, such up the experience for everything it’s worth……total immersions!!!! One word of warning….don’t attempt to read this book if you are just going to vegetated on the sofa, this book is an inspiration to get out there and rough it, we are a long time dead!!!!

Jura and other literary boltholes

I am a huge fan of George Orwell who not only I consider him an author of rare talent. From his clever lampooning of The Russian Revolution and the rise of Stalin with his scheming pigs and gullible carthorses to the dark picture of a totalitarian Britain which was his book Nineteen Eighty-Four, the man was a visionary and genius. You may have read my previous post where I did a book review on Nineteen Eighty-Four, a book I have no hesitation recommending, you will recognise many words and phrases from this book such as "Thought Police", "Big Brother" and "Room 101", he was away ahead of the game. Orwell wrote Nineteen Eighty-Four May in 1946 when he stayed at the Scottish Island of Jura where he rented Barnhill, an abandoned farmhouse at the north end of the island. He spent much of the year there, then returned in April 1947, and again in July 1948 - only really leaving for East Kilbride, on the outskirts of Glasgow, during the winter of 1947, where his failing condition was diagnosed as TB.  I stayed a few days in Jura last year, just myself with Rocky my Parrot in his Travel Motel cage, a couple of books which of course included Nineteen Eighty-Four and a bottle of whisky not a Jura malt, I chose to bring my favourite single malt whisky which is a cask strength laphroaig which matched to the little peat burning fire in the little cottage just nicely. It was a solitude escape for a few days from civilisation and was a few months after my Mother passed away so it was nice to get out to get my head together and some peace to read a book staying only a couple hundred yards from where the author wrote it. I did have a little wander around Barnhill were Orwell stayed but it was locked up securely during my visit so I only saw it from the outside but I understand now that you can rent that little cottage. It will be short on mod-cons and 21st century gadgetry, but it can be hired from £1000 per week a price which reflects the fact that it sleeps eight, rather than revelling in the a-man-and-his-pen solitude that so inspired Orwell, but this place would only appeal to me for the solitude so would lose its purpose if I went with a large contingent so I guess the smaller little cottage a short walk away will be my lot. It’s a beautiful place to visit if you need to escape for a few days, a little remote cottage on Jura is a tonic, A sort of heaven certainly an idyll far removed from the dystopia and sense of dread which seems to penetrate the reader's bones through the pages of Nineteen Eighty-Four and in keeping with its heroic isolation, you’ll rely on a generator for electric light and charging phones although I had to walk up a little hill to get a reception and forget about Wi-fi or 3G.

There are other other literary boltholes where you can stay around the world if, like me, you are a bit of a bibliophile and total immersion sounds bliss staying close to where the book was written or based. Some examples are for example for fans of Ernest Hemingway there is Room 201 in the Gran Hotel La Perla, Pamplona where he wrote finest work The Sun Also Rises (1926) which is a love letter to Pamplona and its bull-running culture, set in the heady atmosphere of Spain in the mid-Twenties.  Or perhaps John Steinbeck fans would like Pacific Grove, California, Jamaica for the readers of Ian Fleming’s Goldeneye.

I always wanted to visit the Greek island of Cephalonia to sit by a fishing boat pulled up on the beach to read Louis de Bernières’s Captain Corelli's Mandolin which is one of my favorite books, perhaps even meet my own Pelagia and fall in love. Allow me to dream, in literature we can escape from the false people we met in this reality, perhaps its time for me to gather up a pile of books, my companion parrot and a bottle of laphroaig and escape from it all again, somewhere further, somewhere beautiful and above all ….somewhere isolated to leave this cancer of a society behind and the shallow false beasts who inhabit it.

Chicken-Licken in the "Modern" world

I can remember the first book I read, a tale which haunted me as a little child. My mum read it too me firstly and often a such a book is magical to a child, a comfort to hold and copy mummy by the child attempting to read himself or perhaps hold when mummy helps you pronounce the words, I can’t remember the actual exact circumstances but I do remember the story well and how It haunted me as a child. The book in question was Chicken-Licken, a fable also known as Chicken Little, I can hear you scoff already but allow me to tell you about it. My copy was published by Laadybird, I attach a library photo of what it looked like.

Its an cumulative tale about a youndg chicken (a chick) who believes the world is coming to an end when an acorn falls from a tree and hits him on the head, he believes that it’s the sky which is falling. Our wee chap is hysterical with a mistaken belief that disaster is imminent and runs around telling his mates, Henny Penny, Cocky Locky, Ducky Lucky, Drakey Lakey, Goosey Loosey, Gander Lander, Turkey Lurkey….the hysteria is contagious and they band together to tell the King until they meet Foxy Loxy who asserts an impression of helpfulness and offers to show them the way to the King, he takes them down into the fox hole where he and his fox cubs make a meal of them all abruptly ending the tale. No happy ending to be found in this story, just a lying fox to leads the naïve to a gruesome death. This was the ending in my Ladybird version, the ending I always knew. Can you imagine the fear this story delivered to a child who’s environment leads him to believe in “happy every after”? Certain a lesson in the real world that not all frogs are Princes or the hair dangling from the high tower leads up to a Princess. Only recently I found out about other alternative endings in other book…. How Foxy Loxy eats the chicken's friends, but the last one, usually Cocky Lockey, survives long enough to warn the chicken and she escapes or the characters being saved by a squirrel or an owl and getting to speak to the King; the characters being saved by the King's hunting dogs; even one version in which the sky actually falls and kills Foxy Loxy. There is a moral to this story usually interpreted to mean "do not believe everything you are told". It could well be a cautionary political tale: The Chicken jumps to a conclusion and whips the populace into mass hysteria, which the unscrupulous fox uses to manipulate them for his own benefit. There is a lot of psychological evidence that children need to be exposed to the idea of danger quite early so that they understand the world and aren't confused by it. It doesn't do any good to "shield" a child so that when their granny dies they have no idea what's going on (although mine on both sides were away long before I was born) Children accept the world in quite a matter of fact way, they don't have the same hangups as adults and stories are a good way to introduce concepts such as the fact that not everyone is friendly, there is danger in the world etc. The world is a big bad place and I have seen this very much from experience. Chicken-Licken is not the only story for kids with such an ending, remember The Snowman, and how me melts at the end. Some of these stories have since changed due to pressure from groups who are doing more damage than good. In the latest Little Red Riding Hood, even the wolf doesn't die, just gets stones in his body and has to eat sprouts. In the newest 3 little Pigs no pigs are eaten, and the wolf runs off. Are we really doing our kids a service with these new edition happy endings? The real monsters are still out there in this world, sitting outside a primary school in a car, planting an explosive device on a bus, grooming young girls and mounting pedestrian zones with vans…..Foxy-Loxy pales in comparison, the trolls out there are no longer found just under bridges, sleeping beauty wakes up and pisses off back to the arsehole who cursed her in the first place, kissing the frog gives you a STD and the Little Mermaid pulls you under the ocean to drown until your bloated crab eaten body returns to the surface. Death is not beautiful, often its slow, ugly and rips the soul out of you when you sit at a loved ones bedside watching and waiting for her final breath to turn to air. Life is a shit and experience will corrupt, but the saving grace is the beauty which is hidden and sometimes appears like a rose pushing its head through a fence. The moments when you touch your child for the first time, a piece of classical music that fills your heart or the most beautiful sunset on foreign shores, we plough on in this life because circumstances can change at any time and if you are a decent person then surely time will reward your efforts.....we need to believe this otherwise we would just lay down now and let the world grind us into the grave.

The Selfish Gene

The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins is a book I have read 3 times now, the first time I read it was about 20 years ago, it was heavy going then for me. I read it a second time about a decade ago, I started to understand it more and I grew a spark of an interest in evolutionary biology, recently I read it last year and it felt like natures poetry, I absorbed very sentence and could understand it better. I have 3 copies of this book, a dog eared paper copy I bought 20 years ago, the hard back edition I got to look tidier on my book shelf and more recently the large extended hardback edition which had more materials added. The Selfish Gene is a very well written book that shows how beautiful reality actually is, just in case you needed reminding but especially if you never realised. The book is designed to show you just how much more pleasing it can be to hear a truth than to hear a lie; in a sense the book could be the basis for a truly objective view of aesthetics. Dawkins seeks to dispel the myth that truth and science (as a process of achieving truth) are cold and uninteresting; he also explains why this myth can be so damaging especially in light of the fact that this myth is so obviously false. The main points of this book discuss how Selfishness and competition is at the root of all biological phenomena - nature as "red in tooth and claw and that there is no basic "dis-continuity" between humanity and other animals - humans are not qualitatively different from other animals however there is no ethical dilemma between this basic fact and the human desire for goodness - since descriptive and normative realities are intrinsically separate (what is and what should be are independent of each other) when this book first came out in the late 70s lots of readers were left with a certain sadness and depression about us as a species, I can remember feeling similar thoughts when I read it in the 90s, but after more experience in life I understand and can accept more with clarity the concept, for example, the fact that there might be a gene for lying is should not be in dispute after the lessons in life I have learnt from certain individuals. (I even understand my companion Parrot’s behaviour better and the evolutionally reasoning behind it due to this book) I do recommend this book, although it would be handy to have some knowledge beforehand in biology (Biopsychology would be perfect but who knows about this? I certainly never) It can be hard going at parts so have google ready to elaborate on points but you will become a more enlightened person for your troubles pushing through and give yourself an education.

My Experience of Death (but not my own...yet)

There are essentially four ways to die: sudden death; the long, slow death of dementia; the up and down death of organ failure, where it’s hard to identify the final going down, tempting doctors to go on treating too long; and death from cancer, where you may bang along for a long time but go down usually in weeks. Suicide, assisted or otherwise, is a fifth, but I’m leaving that on one side for now. If asked, most people would chose sudden death. That may be OK for them but it may be very tough on those around them, particularly if they leave an important relationship wounded and unhealed. If you want to die suddenly, live every day as your last, making sure that all important relationships are in good shape, your affairs are in order, and instructions for your funeral neatly typed and in a top draw—or perhaps better on Facebook, let me state now that I have no preference, how would arrange my funeral or mourn me anyway? I have no family except for my son who I have not seen now for three years, through no fault of mine or his I may add, but my love for remains stronger and absolute than anyone could ever comprehend. Since his birth he brought forth emotions in me I never knew could exist but also he became an Achilles Heel for me, a weakness that could be exploited to hurt me when nothing else could. In a way, with him from my life this bleeds my heart like a death but without a chance to heal as the mourning never stops with every jolt of memory. All that would want to leave as a marker to my existence would be the knowledge within my son heart that his Father loved him and never stopped. Death from organ failure—respiratory, cardiac, or kidney—will have you far too much in hospital and in the hands of doctors. So death from cancer is the (sometimes) best, You can say goodbye, reflect on your life, leave last messages, perhaps visit special places for a last time, listen to favourite pieces of music, read loved poems, and prepare, according to your beliefs, to meet your maker if you have such beliefs or enjoy eternal oblivion. This is, I recognise, a romantic view of dying, but it is achievable with love, morphine, and whisky. But stay away from overambitious oncologists potentially leaving you to die a much more horrible death. My brother died the sudden death, oil rig explosion in the North sea during 1988 with 188 other poor souls. For me the most painful part was watching the hell my parents went through, the memorial service in Aberdeen, then in Falkirk then everything ripped open again when his body was recovered two months later. My Dad's death was slightly prolonged, it was cancer in the lungs, he was a smoker of cigars during his army days, although stopping when I was born they will got him in the end. Basically be drowned with fluid within his lungs as he lay in bed after being sickly and gradually getting worst for a couple of weeks, unfortunately he did not have the fore mentioned time to reflect and prepare, so much was still left unsaid, especially from me, I had so much to tell him which I never did in the end to my pain. The long, slow death from dementia may be the most awful way to pass as you are slowly erased, but then again when death comes it may be just a light kiss, this was how my Mum's life ended last year, her memories gradually scrubbed to a point where she did not recognise me and when shown a picture of my Dad, her husband, a man who passed way almost 20 years prior who she loved with a passion never again seen in this day and age, she gazed upon the photo in a frame I would hold up then say that she thought she went to school with him but could recall nothing further despite they were married for over 50 years and the happiest couple I ever met. Her life finally ended after being unconscious for 4 days and 3 nights, all of which I stayed by her side in her room within the care home. This may sound rough but it was a blessing as I pulled my seat right next to her bed and held her hand, she was unconscious so would not pull her hand away with a shriek believing me to be a strange in her dementia ridden mind instead of her son. I talked so much to her during that 4 days and 3 nights, I moistened her lips with a little sponge, I held her close when she moaned in her "sleep" and I said everything. I told her how much I loved her, I talked about her grandchild Sam and how much he loved her too, I read from a little book called In Praise of Shadows, I thanked her many times for the happiest childhood she and my dad gave me. Over the 4 days and 3 nights I saw her hand with I held darken and her face which I kissed upon the cheeks fall in upon its self until Sunday morning when she gave her final moans during which I cradled her head and repeated every affection I had for her then her final breath turned to air and it was over. Does this sound too personal a memory to share on a blog for strangers to read? But why? we are humans and as humans we share our experiences, sometimes take comfort knowing others have been through the same and I know I'm not the first nor will I be the last. Life is a beautiful gift, I remember my son being born, how when I put my hand in his incubator how he grabbed my finger and held on, I have never let go since! I remember the last time I felt love, chatting on an online messenger until the early hours of the morning, the feeling on my hand being stroked when at the cinema, the feeling in my heart during a hug and the tentative first kisses scared that there is is someone else in this world I care about again. I still remember the smell of Old Spice from my dad, how his rough callused hands felt. I remember how my brother, who was much older use to come home from his work and lift me up and spin me around the house as I giggled my head of and my mum watched with parental concern. These are the things that make us feel alive, yet all the people involved in this story are no longer in my life. Time robs us of such riches, sometimes we chase material things and ignore the important things. I am an Atheist, I don't believe in an after life, no theme parks of Paradiso and Inferno, no heavenly rides or hellish crowds, what we do in the here and now is whats important. Leave a legacy of being remembered as a good person, hide your pain like a clown hides its tears, ignore the bitterness of others and help these you can. Remember that every atom in our bodies came from a star that explode.To paraphrase a well know Scientist...The atoms in your left hand probability came from a different star to the atoms in your right hand. we are all stardust and would not be here if the stars had not exploded because the elements , carbon, nitrogen, oxygen and iron weren't created by a god at the beginning of time. they were created in the nuclear furnaces of stars and the only way they could get into our bodies is by the stars exploding. so forget about Jesus, its the stars which dies to give us life and to the stars we will eventually return, is that not poetic? Our clocks are ticking down, I dont fear death as such, why should I? the light goes off and thats it, what I fear in any pain and suffering, I fear my son won't have know me or remember how much I loved him. I fear people I love will never realise how much I care, I fear I will have been misunderstood by many, these fears dont make me unique in any way, these are the fears we all have and which we should start addressing now. As Shakespeare wrote "For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause"