Daily Bowl of Stew

TTFN

2005-04-20T17:21:00.000Z

This is the end of my first year of Pbase PaD. I can quite proudly state that I didn't miss a single day in all that time. I have decided to take a break for a while, although I may continue posting here more or less regularly. We'll see. Anyway, this is what I wrote on my Pbase blog.

Phew! That was a blast. I started this exactly one year ago tomorrow, with a picture of the sodium street lights lighting up the North Sea haar. I was using my old Fuji M603 - a point and shoot that I got in the January sales, and only my second digital camera (my first one was a Fuji A202 that got sand and Atlantic Ocean in it when I took it on the beach north of Nazaré in Portugal in 2003).

I often wonder now what I did during the six months that I had no camera. By the end of April the photography bug had bit, and I persuaded Linda and Liam to get me the Fuji S7000Z. I had to learn it all from scratch, and the S7000 was a good camera to learn it on. It became my substitute cigarettes, and the camera always came with me wherever I was going.

Through photography I discovered many things that I would previously have simply walked past without noticing. I learned the names of some trees and flowers, I clambered over dry stone walls and barbed wire fences to get to ruined castles, I got to know the countryside around Dundee like the back of my hand. More importantly, however, I got to spend lots of quality time with my family as we toured Scotland looking for photo opportunities - or even just when going for walks with no clear idea of where we would end up.

Now I have a DSLR and a reasonable selection of lenses and an expanding collection of filters and magnifiers, and I think that I am capable of producing reasonably good images. To the extent that I have improved (and, let's face it - it would have been difficult to get any worse - just have a look at last April's images!), well, that is largely down to the Pad community and your constant words of encouragement. Now that my year is up, I want to take a break for a while and get working on some other projects (book, home renovations, get my leg better, etc.).

Before I sign off, though, I want to say a big thank you to every single one of you who have left messages or who have simply looked at my images. Cheers, take care and see you soon, Stu.

Bumps, bruises and bandages

2005-04-19T17:20:00.000Z

My penultimate Pbase PaD day was a day of sunshine and mini disasters. One of the lenses fell out of my spectacles, and the little screw that was supposed to hold it in place disappeared into the carpet. I found the lens quite quickly: the screw was a little more devious. I eventually tracked it down, though, and managed to put all the pieces back together again with the help of Liam's Swiss Army knife. Now my eyes have recovered from having unbalanced sight (one retina corrected, the other not) and i can see again. That said, however, wearing glasses with only one lens in them gives a sensation that is pretty freaky... it messed with my mind and I came over all mellow and felt the urge to put on some acid house music and drink lots of water while waving my arms in the air. Then I remembered that I had a sore leg and back, and that I couldn't see my hand in front of my face (which wasn't surprising, given that they were both waving about above my head in time with Primal Scream).

No sooner had I overcome this psychedelic disaster than I heard Liam screaming in the back garden. He came running into the house writhing about yelling 'God, it hurts!!! God, it hurts!!!'. He had fallen off his skateboard and landed on his head and arm. Now he has a big lump on his forehead and a sprained right wrist. After he had calmed down and accepted that he would live, he cheered up when he was told that he will probably be excused from having to write in school tomorrow, since he is unable to hold a pencil.

This was only the second tribulation affecting Liam today. He came home from school with a big dod of someone else's chewing gum in his hair. Apparently it got there by magic, although on closer interrogation he admitted that the magician who's chewing gum it was got into trouble for 'accidently' disposing of his waste on another pupil's head. We tried, without success, to freeze it and make it brittle in the hope that he would be able to comb it out. Our attempts to wash it out with shampoo were equally unsuccessful. This left us with no other alternative but to cut it. Unfortunately the cut lock isn't noticeable, so I have no excuse to give him a short back and sides!

Carnation Street

2005-04-18T17:18:00.000Z

And so the flower theme continues in the run up to the end of this PaD. You can't say that I didn't warn you that this was going to happen. I distinctly remember telling you to expect a lot of flower photos now that the house is like a florist's following Linda's birthday last week. Liam went back to school this morning. There was no spring in his step as he walked out the door with Linda.

I got the place to myself! Continued with my work, and kept on thinking that I ought to send out my invoices (nearly three weeks late....eeek!) and telephone the surveyor about the driveway that is supposed to be getting put in this side of the decade. I must remember to do these things tomorrow - I'd put a knot in my handkerchief, but these paper tissues just tear.

It started raining very heavily yesterday afternoon, just about 30 minutes after Linda had put a washing out to dry. It rained all night, and continued for most of the day. I sat at my computer all morning listening the the rain on the window and couldn't for the life of me shake the vague thought niggling inside my head that I was supposed to do something. About 4.30 I brought the sodden washing from the line in and put it all in the washing machine, then went upstairs where, despite my current disability, struggled up a set of stepladders to change two of the bathroom spotlight bulbs.

Liam came home looking like a drowned rat. He walks home from school with an open coat, regardless of the weather. His coat has a hood, but Liam won't use it. One very wet schoolboy needed some soup. However, he has it in his head that he is putting on weight, and despite our attempts to reassure him that this is normal for a boy of his age. and that he is not overweight, he eats like a sparrow with the odd trip to crisp- and Bounty-ville. By eating the soup, his appetite for supper was gone, so we ended up eating at Portuguese and Spanish dinner-time - 9pm! I was so hungry I could have eaten a scabby dog.

I had a hard time picking today's pad from the list of contenders. In the end I adopted the scientific method, commonly known as eeny-meeny-miney-mo. So here you have it. Now go and enjoy it.

Medicinal Compound

2005-04-17T17:17:00.000Z

Continuing with the Dr Who theme of extraterrestrial prime ministers, I present you today with the SETI sponsored flower - lilium, better known as the Stargazer Lily. This is yet another of the many flowers that Linda received for her birthday. I don't normally like flowers that are this fussy, but I must admit that they do smell nice.

Liam starts back at school tomorrow following the delayed Easter holidays, so it was a case of getting him new shoes and a haircut (he asked the hairdresser to take about a millimetre off the top, and less off the back and sides). We were going to go to the cafe next door to the barber's for a coffee, but it was full of football players spending their wages (the Dundee and Dundee Utd players go there on a Sunday afternoon when they are not playing), so we decided not to bother. Instead we went for a short walk along the seafront, but it was freezing (typical April weather), so we rushed back to the warmth and comfort of the car.

There was football on the radio, and you all know how much I like my football. As expected, Dunfermline were unable to beat R*****s, so it looks as if next Sunday's Old Firm game will be the title decider. I'll bet you can guess where I'll be then! Three days of padding to go! What will I do to fill the void (apart from work, that is)?

Cala lillies or triffids in disguise?

2005-04-16T17:15:00.000Z

Today was a day for football and for watering the plants that I got Linda for her birthday. I woke up at 8.30am, and went downstairs for my weekly helping of Soccer AM whilst eating breakfast. Linda woke at about 10.30 - just in time for the Soccerette catwalk - and surprised both myself and Liam by not telling us she thought the Soccerette is 'full of herself', but instead saying that she thought she was very bonny (and she was).

The TV stayed tuned into Sky Sports 1 for the Arsenal v. Blackburn English FA Cup semi-final. The game was rubbish, but the result was good (3-0 to the Gooners). No sooner had that game finished than it was time to head over to the PC and tune into Sportsound for the Celtic v. Aberdeen game. Being only two points ahead of R*****s, and with the final Old Firm game being at Ibrox next Sunday, Celtic can't afford to go dropping points at home to anyone, so imagine my reaction when Celtic conceded two goals in the first 14 minutes - and to Aberdeen too - a team that have already beaten us at home this season - and just two weeks after Hearts beat us at home! My misery was relatively short lived, as Celtic pulled one back before half-time, then scored another two in the second-half. So we are still on course for the title, which will almost certainly be ours should Dunfermline get a result tomorrow (although I won't hold my breath for that one - plastic pitch or no plastic pitch).

The remainder of the afternoon was spent working whilst listening to the radio phone-in show, which is always good for a laugh as fans - many of whom have had a wee swally before calling - make generally incoherent comments to a less than respectful presenter.

I heard that the replacement Dr Who had been chosen and is a relatively unknown Scots actor (so that rules out Sean Connery, Euan McGregor and Robert Carlisle, then). The new series continues to disappoint... still waiting for the Doctor's only worthy opponents: Daleks and Cybermen. Instead, what we got today was a pig in a space suit, and some green Halloween masks in human suits. One good thing about tonight's episode: Tony Blair had been replaced as PM by an alien. A case of art imitating life, perhaps. The BBC had better watch out: it can't go replacing Our Tone with green aliens and hope to keep its licence fee. There are limits, you know. These lillies kind of remind me of triffids - perhaps that will be one of the good Doctor's next opponents.

Lazy

2005-04-15T15:48:00.000Z

Sorry, but I have been too busy lazing around to take any photographs today. Nah! I've been busy with work, then we had visitors, so no time for the camera. Instead, what I can give you is this image with a series of coloured blotches on it. It was taken way back last August when I was doing the faux-lomography. I came across it again as I was cataloguing my images (yes... how sad is that!). Well, you never know when someone might offer me money for my images - I need to be ready!!! Anyway, I'd better get back to it, and think of a theme for the final five days of my PaD year.

No pasaran

2005-04-14T15:46:00.000Z

Liam and I were out the house early this morning, on account of the fact that the car had to be taken to the garage, and I wanted to go into town and then to the Botanic Gardens before dropping him off at his friend's house where he is spending the night.

We dropped the car off, then caught the bus into town and discovered a memorial stone to the 16 natives of Dundee who were killed fighting against Franco in the Spanish Civil War. This flower was in the flowerbed surrounding the memorial, and just seemed to be very appropriate. I have been interested in the Spanish Civil War for as long as I can remember, and in the bravery and sacrifice of the ordinary working men and women from many countries, who left their homes and travelled hundreds of miles to a country they knew very little about to help them defend their democracy from the fascist supported insurgents. It is even more amazing when you consider that these Scottish heroes, and their comrades who survived to take to battle against Hitler less than 6 months later, had to cross the whole of the UK and France to get there, and all the time the authorities of these two 'great' democracies were doing all they could to stop ordinary people from going to defend another democracy.

After our brief pause here, we caught the bus out to the botanic gardens, where I bought a family annual ticket, only to discover as I was leaving that University of Dundee Students get in free: Linda is a Dundee Uni student. Still, it didn't cost much, and now I can go as often as I like.

Liam headed off to Joe's and I made towards Deke's to pick up the car. It sailed through its MOT, only needing a new set of indicator bulbs. While we were in town I bought Kasabian's album. I've been meaning to get it for ages, and today I did. It is excellent: the Stone Roses of the 21st century. If you haven't got it, you need to get it.

Ominous sky

2005-04-13T00:08:00.000Z

It was Linda's birthday today, but I won't tell you what age she has reached. Suffice to say that she is as old as her eyes and older than her teeth.

We (Linda, Liam, Cathie and I) went out to Piperdam for a meal (Piperdam is as close to a country club as we have round about these parts) and a wander. The place is lovely... spoiled only by people who like to play golf (which, as any of you who are used to your daily bowl of Stu will know, is a waste of a good walk and lovely countryside).

The main problem is that the restaurant is right next to the bar, and while smoking is not allowed in the restaurant, diners have to walk through a very smoky lounge bar to get to it. Well... that and the golfers... or even worse... golfers sitting at the bar, right next to the entrance to the restaurant, smoking fat cigars whilst consuming malt whisky and conversing loudly about the hole-in-one that got away at the 12th, or about their new car, or about anything at all actually.

I must apologise to those of you who enjoy chasing a little white ball around a park with sticks of an afternoon, but... honestly... I'm sorry, I just don't like golf, and while I accept that most golfers are, apart from their dress sense, thoroughly decent lads and lassies (especially those who partake of their daily bowl), I find that when a group of golfers get together (what is the collective noun for golfers? A bag? A set?) the talk inevitably turns to birds, snotters, BMWs and fitted kitchens. I am allowed to have an irrational dislike of something, and why not golfers.

So anyway, the meal was nice, spoiled only by the cigar puffing, whisky slugging, loud-mouthed golf boors whose presence was always apparent.

Back to the house, and I thought that I had walked into a florist's shop. Honestly, there are flowers of every description all over the place. Perhaps someone ought to tell people that it was Linda's birthday, and that she is not ill. Still, plenty of photographic material now! So steel yourself for loads of photos of flowers!

Back on top again!

2005-04-12T00:35:00.000Z

More work completed, and yet another satisfied customer. I received the email this morning, and by mid-afternoon the job was done. An entire chapter translated, proof-read, copyedited, layed-out, quarked and pdf'd in time for Liam and I to get to the retail park and buy Linda's birthday presents (note the plural).

I like flowers, and Linda likes flowers, but I don't like giving people cut flowers - because you are giving them something that is dead and wilting. I much prefer to give potted plants, because they are alive, and they last much longer (as long as they are cared for). So this is part of the present: a nice pot full of gorgeously yellow and green chrysanthemums. We got other potted plants too: a beautiful red gerbera and purple lily. We managed to get home just ahead of Linda, but we had no time to hide the plants, so they are an early present. We still have something to give in the morning, which I am sure she will appreciate.

Apart from this excitement, I had a long MSN chat with Zak and Northstar, during which I reminisced about my first computer - an old Amstrad 8800 (or some such similar) which had a whopping 640kb RAM, no hard-drive and a DOS interface on a green and black monitor screen. You had to have your wits about you with the two 5.5 inch floppy drives (remember those disks?) - remembering what went where and when. And no GUI interface - just a DOS prompt; and certainly no internet (although up at the uni we had Lynx, which was a DOS-style unix internet that I didn't know how to work, because I kept forgetting the commands that you needed to type in).

Interspersed with all this, I had to field Liam's constant questioning on his new favourite subject: Greek philosophers (honest!) and the Roman empire. Liam thinks that I'm a rubbish historian because I don't really know that much about Ancient Greece and Rome. Apparently the period between the First and Second World Wars (with the rise of mass political movements - such as fascism and communism - the end of many European monarchies, massive technological advances - cheap cars, electricity in homes, cinema, leisure time - economic collapse, coups, assassinations, abdications, hunger marches, show trials, etc.) - that is to say, the period that I am most interested in - is just plain B-O-R-I-N-G. That's me told, then.

I'm off to brush up on my knowledge of all things Roman and Greek... Let's see... Julius Ceasar invaded Britain in 55BC... Plato wrote The Republic and drank hemlock... So much to know, so little time before my son examines me (he only asks me questions that he knows the answers to, you see). One item of marvellous news... R*****s lost to Dundee United, so Celtic are back on top of the league - Celtic are now in the driving seat (although we do have to make sure we don't lose at Ibrox - but let's cross that particular bridge when we come to it).

Handsome dude!

2005-04-11T23:44:00.000Z

You may or may not believe this, but some people think that I am quite taciturn. These people think that I am not a great one for conversation. I must admit that I am not a great one for small talk, and I am hopeless at networking. I have a small group of friends and colleagues, and they are more than enough for me, because I actually enjoy my own company and soon get tired of the often false camaraderie that comes of social situations.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, Linda tells me that I have hardly grunted two words in her direction since she came home from work, and Liam thinks that I am being very grumpy just now. Do you know what? I am grumpy, because I am sick and tired of not being able to walk upright without a crutch, and without being in pain all the time. Anyone would be bloody grumpy!

Just off the phone with my best client and mentor. It's fun talking Portuguese on the phone - especially when you're getting paid for it. He thanked me for getting the book finished on time, despite only receiving the final chapter this morning, and for writing all of the abstracts. He has more work for me to do, and he wants me to send him an invoice pronto.

Anyway, since I am being told that I am a man of very few words - most of which are ill-chosen - I will shut up now and leave you with a picture of me from more carefree times. Tomorrow I am going to get out of the house and take photos of flowers (and buy Linda a birthday present). See you then. Oh, BTW Scottish padders: I managed to get the forum up and running on my CPHRC site. Come away in and join us for a blether about the forthcoming Perth meet.

Mine at last!

2005-04-10T00:06:00.000Z

Not much to say about today, because I really don't want to rub Rich's nose in it that they will not be winning anything this season! Saying that, though, that Lithuanian with the unpronouncable name who scored Hearts' goal this afternoon looks like the real deal. If he keeps that kind of performance going until the end of the season, no doubt one half of the Old Firm will snap him up as a benchwarmer!

Much as I am pleased with the result of today's game, I must admit to feeling a bit sorry for Rich (a true supporter who, unlike me, actually goes to games week in, week out) - not because his team lost and mine won, but because he actually paid to go and watch that poor excuse for a game. For me, football is about entertainment. Lots of people pay a lot of money to watch the games, and I believe that the players have a responsibility to entertain the paying customer. There were times during the first half when I was dozing off so dire was the standard of football being played. None of the players wanted to make a tackle, no-one was running into space, no-one was making incisive passes: in short, no-one was taking responsibility. It was absolute dross to watch.

The average basic wage for players in the Celtic team must be in the region of £25,000 per week - with some earning substantially more - Craig Bellamy, Neil Lennon, Chris Sutton and John Hartson are all earning around £40,000 per week. Add in win bonuses, etc., and we are talking about a lot of very wealthy young men getting paid a lot of money to kick a ball around a field. A qualified social worker earns about £25,000 per YEAR; a firefighter gets about £22,000 per YEAR; a private in the army gets less than £20,000 per YEAR. Football players owe it to the paying supporter to put on a show - there is simply no excuse for the standard of football that was on display during the first 45 minutes. In fact, the game only livened up after Hearts pulled the score back to 2-1 with 30 minutes left. The last half hour was exciting, but that is a very poor return for the fan who got up at the crack of dawn, paid to travel through to the game, then £25 to get in and another £10 for something to eat and drink at half-time. So, Rich, I feel sorry that you actually paid to go through to Glasgow to watch that rubbish, and then to come away from it all empty handed.

Gavin paid me a visit this afternoon. He wanted his 135mm lens and +4 diopter back (understandably). He wouldn't take back the 28mm Tokina, and told me that I could hang on to it. I said that I couldn't just keep it, so he agreed to sell it to me. The net result is that it is now mine, all mine. Thanks, Gavin!

I just sat watching a programme on TV with Liam - it's called Viva La Bam, and consists mainly of a young man with too much money and too little sense, surrounded by a group of equally young and senseless and substantially poorer hangers-on, going about destroying things - including his own home and cars. Talk about trash TV! I must be getting old, because I saw nothing even slightly humorous in what they were doing, and just found myself thinking what a waste. Perhaps rather than cutting Humvees in two and hitting golf balls at Cadillacs, this young man and his friends should be made to live on UNHCR rations in a Sudan refugee camp for a few months. Maybe then they might appreciate all that they've got. At the very least it would get them off the TV.

Something to lean on

2005-04-09T22:49:00.000Z

Today was a do nothing sort of day, or at least it was before I got up. Then it transformed itself into a clean the house sort of day. You know, the kind of day when you wish you could afford to pay someone else to clean up behind you. Carting the heavy vacuum cleaner up and down two flights of stairs (and vacuuming them in the process) is not much fun when you have to carry a crutch as well. Add to this the need to vacuum a sofa that seems to be a cat hair magnet, and you have my morning. Mal podia ouvir Soccer AM!

Liam has guests coming round, and Linda had other arrangements - going into town with her mum to see what she might want for her birthday (no doubt a whole new wardrobe, at least two new pairs of shoes and a coat... I, on the other hand, will be getting her a new coffee mug, a CD and a bunch of flowers from myself and Liam). Following this excursion, and while I was dripping in sweat and agony vacuuming the 40 risers that we have between ground level and the second floor of our house, Linda was off to Erin's 5th birthday party to drop of her presents.

Cleaning the dining room, kitchen and downstairs toilet meant that I missed the first half of the Hibs v. Dundee Utd Scottish Cup semi-final. Liam, who had been asked to tidy his own room in preparation for his visitors, had decided that it would be better fun standing under the shower for 40 minutes. Linda came home during the second half of the football, and complained about her morning of shopping and partying.

By the time Liam's friends arrived, I was in real need of the item in this image. Tomorrow, Linda is off to Perth for a meal with her Uni mates. At least I will get peace and quiet to watch the Celtic v. Hearts cup semi-final. No interruptions will be tolerated, for not only did Hearts beat us last week, this game will decide which team gets to beat, sorry, meet, Dundee United in the Cup Final at the end of May!

Artistically modern

2005-04-08T10:14:00.000Z

Despite myself, I managed to watch all three hours of Pope John Paul II's funeral ceremony. I must admit that I was impressed by the event, although I did find myself thinking that perhaps there may have been better ways to spend all of the money. But, hey, that's just me - I was brought up in a presbyterian Calvinist church, so it is the way that I have been brought up to think. As I am not Catholic, while my wife and son are, and am not in the slightest bit religious (a by-product of being forced to go to Sunday school when I wanted to play football) - I am going to shut up right now before I inadvertantly talk myself into trouble!

I banked my Nikon £100 cash-back cheque today, then went to the camera shop and went mad. I bought myself a +2 diopter and a Nikon rear lens cap. Went next door to Costa for a coffee before getting the bus home. When I got in, I realised that I had left the lens cap in the coffee shop. That means I will have to go back into town tomorrow to see if someone handed it in... and that's a bummer, because I hate going into town at the best of times, and especially on Saturday afternoons. Still, if I do go in (and I think I'm going to have to), then I will probably just have to get myself another diopter. They are a cheap way to get up close and personal - especially now that the flowers are starting to make their appearances.

Unplugged

2005-04-07T17:33:00.000Z

A few days back I said that I was approaching the end of my year's PaD. While this remains true, I am not quite as close to the end as I thought. Somehow I managed to skip nine days - so I have nine days more than I believed I had. I was wondering about that, because I recall starting doing Photo a Day on a rival image hosting site that managed to do something Pbase - despite all its woes around the Christmas and New Year period - hasn't yet managed to do: lose every single picture in every single gallery. Long story short... I moved to Pbase, and took up PaD in all seriousness. While I have counted every day since I started on the other site, I have, in theory, two alternatives. I can recalculate from when I came to Pbase, which would mean that I still have until 12 May, or I can count as I have been - including all the PaD images (they are all here on Pbase now, and have been for some time), which means that I have until 21 April. I guess I'll just see how I feel on 21 April.

I have been working on my CPHRC site today, making up a new series of Working Papers in QuarkExpress from old HTML documents that had been available on the old CPHRC site for free, but which are now only available for purchase. Not as straightforward as it may seem - I mean, making up the Quark files, and creating the PDFs from Quark is a doddle - no, it's not that. The problem is that if you are making something freely available - effectively giving it away - there may be a desire to make sure you get everything right, but the odd error here and there is acceptable. If you charge - even if it is only a token amount (and it is only a token amount), you have to make sure that the document is sound in all of its aspects (layout, grammar, spelling, argument, references, etc). So I have had to go through these old files changing the format and checking the references and, basically, doing for free what I get paid to do. All day, and I only managed to get two papers done - only 40 to go! Methinks that this is going to take a little time.

So what's the connection between that and today's image? There is none. If you look closely at the image above, you will see that none of the plugs is connected. That was a pretty awful pun. Maybe I will stop this on 21 April afterall!

Great balls of fire

2005-04-06T18:44:00.000Z

Just as promised, the new fan arrived with the post this morning. Thirty minutes later and I was up and running again, and able to field queries from assorted Portuguese authors and English publishers in the bat of a cat's eye. What I mean to say is that I got some work done. I also got three new Ebay points, so that's me got a yellow star and 100% customer satisfaction after only two and a bit weeks.

The nice weather that we had at the weekend has now deserted us to be replaced with April showers followed by brooding grey skies. Gavin called in on me and loaned me his 135mm lens and a +4 close-up filter - which also fits on my 50mm! We chatted about this and that, mostly about that it must be said, and drank two mugs of coffee each.

While I was making the second coffees, I spotted Mizzie bounding up the back (soon to be front) stairs and into the porch to take up her usual 'let me in' position on top of the new tumble dryer (where, much to Linda's consternation, she leaves her little paw prints). As I opened the back door to let her in, Gavin stepped forward to say hello, at which point Mizzie did a U-turn and stormed out into the garden and over the wall faster than you could say 'what the....' Not exactly the bravest of cats is Mizzie. She lets the other cats in the neighbourhood bully her - I even caught her sitting in the dining-room intently watching our next door neighbour's cat eat her food from her bowl. Obviously the intruder got off his mark as soon as he realised I was on the scene, at which point Mizzie managed to summon up the courage to chase him out of the garden before strutting back to sit in the middle of the lawn to clean herself.

Back to the conversation with Gavin. I was regaling him with tales of my life in the Irish pub in Lisbon, and how I had to sing a song with the band every week (The Proclaimer's 500 Miles - how stereotypical!!! - well, it was either that or Marie's Wedding!), and how, gradually, my repertoire increased to include Stray Cat Strut and Be-Bop-A-Loo-La. I recalled my 34th birthday party, and how we all went to the Brazilian bar near the Graça (Chafarica), which was then run by a friend of mine, Mané. After a few caipirinhas, myself and Joe Connolly (a very talented Irish musician) convinced the two bossa nova musicians to let us have a go, at which point the scene changed from laid-back Rio to football terracing Scotland and the place erupted to the 500 Miles chorus which, for those who do not know, goes something like this: Na-na-na-na. Na-na-na-na. Na-na-na-didle-a-didle-a-didle-a-na-na (repeated very loudly and out of tune ad infinitum).

Afterwards, we headed off down to the Irish pub, where a surprise party had been laid on for me by my old boss. As it was quite late (about 1am) and we were well oiled, and since it was my birthday, I was pushed towards the stage where I was allowed to sing my entire store of songs - starting with a reprise of 500 miles (to a much more appreciative audience, and complete with bodhrun, fiddle and guitar accompaniment), I wowed the audience into Stray Cat Strut, where we were joined on-stage by one of Europe's best classical cello players, member of Lisbon's Metropolitan Opera and champion Guinness drinker, Peter Flannigan, complete with his prized cello which was being enlisted as a double bass (and no, he didn't spin it or stand on it). For an encore, I treated them to as much of Be-Bop-A-Loo-La as I knew and a rousing finale of Great Balls of Fire. To much applause I left the stage to resume consuming pints of the best Guinness on the Iberian peninsula - I like to think that they were applauding my performance rather than my departure, but one never knows.

Broken fantastic

2005-04-05T23:17:00.000Z

Because of this little gizmo - the system fan - I am relegated to using my steam-powered laptop. The beast (as I my PC has come to be known) has recently begun acting up again after several months of good behaviour. This morning when I switched it on, it switched itself off again. This battle of wits continued for a few minutes, then I decided to leave it, go have a cup of coffee, then come back and kick the living daylights out of it.

Instead, I switched it on, and it started sort of behaving itself, except it kept on telling me that something was wrong with the Star Office suite - which was unfortunate, because that is the program that I was wanting to use. I tried to repair it, but I was told, in no uncertain terms, that because I hadn't installed an optional plug-in it would not be able to repair the installation, and that I would need to download it again. It is a big download which, even with my 1Mb link, takes about 25 minutes. Aha!, said I. I had the foresight to save the installation files from the last time I downloaded this program. Aha!, said I, as I cursed myself for not labelling my CDs. After the 10th or 11th CD drew a blank, I decided to bite the bullet and redownload the whole lot - including the 'optional' plug-in that allows running repairs to be done when the original installation is corrupted.

The only problem I could envisage was remembering my password for the Sun download page - so I dedided better to copy my work files over to the laptop where at least I have Word. Miracle of miracles, I remembered my details and began the big download (Zak, if you had to do it, it would take almost 11 hours), and commenced with the transfer of files across my desk.

Just as I started, the Beast began making one hell of a noise, before as a small piece of plastic hit me on the leg. I cautiously peered into the gubbins, and traced the noise to the fan over the heat sink. One of its blades had come off - and that was the bit of plastic that hit my leg (my bad one at that). I put up with the noise until the download was complete, then switched everything off and ripped the Beast's heart out. Fan removed, I phoned PC World to see if they had any in stock - they didn't. I managed to get a new one on the internet - the postage costs more than the fan, but they promised to deliver it tomorrow - so that sold me.

Liam spent the whole morning standing sentinel at the living room window watching for the postman who, he believed, would be bringing his newly purchased game. Thank God that the postman brought it, because Liam was really beginning to drive me up the wall asking me if I thought the postie would have it, and what if he didn't??? So that was Liam quiet for the rest of the morning - shame I couldn't say the same about the Beast

through some of these computer hardware store websites got me to thinking about building my own PC. Well, actually, move all the gubbins from the existing case into a new one. Maybe the change of surroundings would make it a happier PC - I could get one of those cases with all the lights, and make my study look like a 1970s school disco. Modding, I think they call it, and I don't think it has much to do with fishtail parkas and Lambretta scooters, either. I'd better not, though, because I'd just break something. I'll just get the new fan, install it, then cross my fingers and hope for the best.

Makes you pure dead cluver, man

2005-04-04T01:19:00.000Z

The pink wig gets a reprise. A final bow while I demonstrate my extreme laziness by using the Fuji on automatic! Even on the Fuji the wig doesn't look pink - and only a great deal of Photoshop 'tittivating' will ever make it look that colour. It is magenta. Then again... I may be colourblind - that would certainly explain some of the decoration in this house! I couldn't send Wiggy off to the capital on Saturday because I was too lazy to go to the Post Office before it closed at lunchtime - well, I just had to watch Soccer AM, it's part of my routine, and I like my routine. Yesterday was Sunday, so the Post Office was closed anyway. Today was the holiday that we in Dundee never got last Monday while the rest of Britain was off.

Because we are getting our Easter holidays a week after Easter has passed, the people who make these decisions dusted down a name for the holiday: the Dundee Fast. I think we were supposed not to eat - but then I didn't find out about it until after I had already eaten, then I just thought in for a penny, in for a pound - so I continued eating.

So, where was I? Oh yes, the Dundee Fast holiday meant that the local Post Office was closed, so I couldn't post Wiggy today either. Doomed to spend yet another day in Dundee, I thought that it would be better to put Wiggy to work. Liam had thought that he had got away with not being photographed wearing it, but I outwitted him. Now his friends will see him - but he's on school holiday for a fortnight (the Dundee Fast Fortnight - if they think I'm going to go a whole two weeks without food, they've got another think coming), so by the time they go back all of his friends will have forgotten about it.

Nevertheless, I may have to throw myself at Jeanne's mercy, and ask if the Wig can come back here after it has finished its globetrotting adventures, because anything that can make Liam pick up a book - especially that book (which got me through the first two years of my politics degree!) - is always going to be welcome in this house. Leg's hurting a bit as a result of yesterday's exertions, and I have been busily trying to catch up with work, so no time for anything more thoughtful.

Sorry, too, about the tardiness of my own comments. I am trying, without much success, to keep up to date with you all.

Quick, hide the mint sauce

2005-04-03T01:18:00.000Z

Liam and I had a good day today. This morning I agreed to let him buy a Playstation game off Ebay with the money he has made by selling some of his old games. It is a game that he has been after for a long, long time, and one which has, apparently, been withdrawn from the UK market. A strategy shoot-em-up is how he describes it. By way of thanks, he agreed to mow the lawn (such as it is).

After lunch, we sat and watched a little bit of TV, then I decided that it was time for me to get out the house. I may not be able to walk very far, but I can drive as far as the car can take me. I convinced Liam that an afternoon up Glen Clova had to be better than sitting playing 'Nation State' on the internet (the latest craze, apparently), He eventually agreed, and off we went.

I am ashamed to say that in the 15 years that I have lived in Dundee, I have never before been to Glen Clova. There are five Angus glens (glen is the Scottish word for valley), and I have only ever been the full length of one of them - Glen Isla. I remember then thinking that we really must visit all five, as they are all beautiful and all different. So that's me struck number two off the list. I have been a few hundred yards up Glen Esk, but that doesn't really count.

Weather permitting, next weekend we will head up Glen Prosen - said to be the most beautiful of the five because it is one of the least accessible. We shall see. Anyway, the weather was perfect for a trip to the Highlands. It was warm, dry and hazy. Judging the lighting conditions was always going to be a problem - so most of the shots I took were bracketed (remember, I only use manual lenses - because I can't afford the automatic ones). It is places like this that wide angle lenses come into their own - but I resisted the temptation to use the 18mm auto lens, preferring instead to stick with the 28-200mm lens for its flexibility. I paid £50 for this lens, and while it is not brilliant at any one thing, it is a useful piece of glass. So much so that it was never off the camera.

Anyway, back to the journey. We rounded a corner and came across this little collection of lambs gamboling in the field. As I stood taking photos of them, they moved closer to me - obviously curious (they haven't learned to be sheep yet) - so I was able to get some magical shots. Liam and I spent some time just gazing in awe at the scenery, and thinking how lucky we are to live in such a beautiful and small country.

A refreshment stop was made at the Glen Clova Hotel at the head of the glen, before heading off back to Dundee via Kirriemuir (birthplace of J. M. Barrie), Glamis (birthplace of the late Queen Mother) and Tesco (home of fine wines and mineral waters). My leg may be very sore at the moment, but it was worth it to spend some quality time with Liam experiencing some awesome scenery.

I crawled on all fours on the ground

2005-04-02T01:16:00.000Z

When, lo! I saw a host of golden daffodils. Or something like that - never was a big Wordsworth fan. Much prefer Shelley - if only because he was part of the family that produced Frankenstein and Discourse on Political Inequality (as well as Caleb Williams).

Since I didn't make it to the Post Office this morning (it closes at 12.30pm on Saturdays), and that since I still have Wiggy, and that since both Linda and Liam have agreed to pose wearing it (fully clothed, I hasten to add), I thought that I would use that as my daily photo. I never got round to taking it, though, since I am too depressed about today's football result to even think about pink wigs. Then, as is the way of things, I got caught up in other activities. Like watching the second episode of Dr Who (the series had better improve very soon - bring on the Daleks and Cybermen), and trying (unsuccessfully) to stay awake during BBC4's live broadcast of the Quatermass Experiment (I blame the fresh air for making me tired).

While I was pretending to be awake - in an unsuccessful attempt to foil Liam's efforts to watch Terminator 2 (I actually did fall asleep) - Linda came in to break the long expected news that the Pope had died. Whilst I respect the fact that his death is a sad event for the Catholic world, I was not really in the mood to watch all the obituary TV programmes that were swamping the schedules, and which Linda wanted to watch. Anyway, I was depressed enough with Celtic losing at home to Hearts, thus virtually handing the championship to R*****s (unless Motherwell can win tomorrow - but I think there is more chance of me winning the lottery, and I didn't buy a ticket).

I sold an old and unplayed CD on Ebay yesterday (I won't tell you what CD - it's too embarrassing). It had been sitting at the bottom of my CD pile for years, so I decided to get rid of it. I described it as being used but in excellent condition (which it was for something 10 years old - with some superficial surface scratches). The person who bought it paid the whopping sum of 50p for it yesterday. I posted it to him last night and he received it this morning, then immediately sent me an email complaining that it was not pristine and that I had sent it in a recycled padded envelope, and that he was no longer wanted it! I didn't imagine that there really were people out there who are so anal. I mean - what does he expect for 50p! - after the listing fees and paypal charges, it actually cost me money to sell it to him!

I bought 1Gb of webspace with PHP and MySQL on it, and spent the past three hours trying, unsuccessfully, to get a PHP gallery up and running to link to my CPHRC site. I don't understand why they make these things so complicated. I finally gave up and almost threw my crutch through the monitor in frustration. I also need to clean my camera's sensor, and I don't know where to start. Jessops advised sending it away to be cleaned professionally - but I've only had the thing for three weeks, and can't afford to be sending it away once a month to be cleaned - surely they can come up with a better system than this! Gavin told me that he uses the low-tack Scotch tape method - but I'm too scared to try that (I'm just a coward).

Still. At least the sun shone today, and it was lovely and warm. So it wasn't all bad.

Fool's day breakfast

2005-04-01T01:16:00.000Z

According to the comprehensive set of instructions that accompanied Wiggy, this must be its last full day here in Dundee. Tomorrow it is off to the nation's capital, where Lee will no doubt show it the sights: the Parliament building, the Castle, Holyrood Palace, the Royal Mile, Calton Hill, Leith and Portobello. I am sure that Wiggy will have a whale of a time.

I might take it up to the Law for ae fond farewell before posting it on, where I will give it my sage counsel on Edinburgh female etiquette: if in a tea-room, be sure to wear a tweed twinset, pearl necklace, fur coat and no knickers, and always extend the pinkie whilst partaking of tea and scones. I shall warn it to stay clear of Rose Street, as it will be plied with alcohol in each of the neighbouring bars before being lewdly propositioned, and advise it to give a wide berth to people called Renton, Sickboy, Spud or Begbie. As a west coaster, and proud Brandane/Glaswegian to boot, the most valuable piece of advice I can give the wig is to be wary of Edinburgh folk - they're not quite right in the head.

This reminds me of a joke. People from Edinburgh call people from Glasgow 'Weegies', and say things like "How do you make a Weegie Board? Take away his Buckfast and blutak". Anyway, one particularly obnoxious citizen of Edinburgh delighted in trying to annoy his Glaswegian colleagues by telling such 'jokes'. He finally said: 'You know that in Edinburgh Glaswegians are called Weegies... but what do Glaswegians call people from Edinburgh? What is the collective noun for people from the capital? One Glaswegian piped up: 'We call people from Edinburgh W*nkers.'

But seriously, I have no problem with Edinburgh - it is far enough away for it not to bother me, and close enough to be a handy airport. I am sure Wiggy will love it there - and anyway, Lee's not a W*nker - he's originally from Aberdeen (less said about that the better).

Since it was to be our last full day together, I thought that it would be nice for me and Wiggy to sit at the table on this April Fool's day morning and have a typically high-cholestral breakfast of bacon rolls dripping in HP sauce, some sweet coffee and, for our health, some fruit juice. It would have been lovely gazing into each other's eyes - but then Wiggy doesn't have any, and nor is it a great conversationalist, and nor did it have any appetite - which was okay, because - as you can see from my svelte figure - I am well capable of eating two bacon rolls at one sitting.

Just a little trim

2005-03-31T01:15:00.000Z

The countdown continues until PaD365. However, today I thought that I would spare you the sight of my flabby body (you can really tell that I think hard about working out, can't you). My sedentary lifestyle has always been a bit of a worry to me. Back when I worked for BT, at least I got out on survey once a month - and that usually involved long, long, long walks (e.g. Annan to Dumfries and back; Peebles to Beattock and back; Stranraer to Port Patrick and back, etc.). These were good times - although I don't think I would like to go back to not being my own boss... I am a bit overfond of my month long holidays during the summer, and my regular jaunts to Portugal for that - although at this moment in time I wouldn't say no to a bit of Statutory Sick Pay. Anyways, I can't really complain too much.

So, back to the point of this missive. My flaccid non-muscular frame and my demonstration of how nice a person I really am (I really am!). I will not subject it to you again (or should that be you to it?). Mind you, isn't it ironic that the pictures of me wearing very little other than a wig (in the case of yesterday's picture) and some diffuse glow and gaussian blur (in the case of The Arse picture from way back in November) seem to be incredibly popular. On a normal day, my PaD image pulls in about 90-100 views, yesterday's is already over 300 and counting. So just admit it... you like seeing my semi-naked bits. Just wait until I go on holiday, and you see the pictures of me at the beach!!!! Pbase had better order in the new servers now!

I'm only just learning how to work my D70 (who needs instruction manuals?), and it took me some time to figure out how to set the timer - I should have done that before I took all my clothes off in preparation for the shot! By the time I managed to master it, I was blue with the cold (Linda always switches the central heating off when she leaves the house - and I always forget to switch it back on). It took me many, many attempts to get the shot - not for me those new fangled automatic lenses... no, I was using my brand new (to me anyway) manual focus 50mm lens that had just arrived in the post that morning. So anyway, I've discovered the trick with manual lenses is just to keep taking shots until you get one that works, then save that setting for the real shot. Fifteen minutes later (and still naked), I managed to figure out how to get the camera to focus on something that wasn't yet there (I put the stepladder where I was to be standing, and focused on that). Then the real fun began, and I had to press the shutter release and then move into position in the allocated ten seconds - easier said than done when you have severe sciatic pain like I told the DWP I have.

I phoned Tesco Direct and complained that the tumble dryer hadn't arrived and no-one had phoned to say why or when I ought to expect it. The poor girl at the other end was very sympathetic when I told her that the email I received told me that the dryer would be here 11 days after it was ordered, and that Tesco's arrangements with local delivery firms were no concern of mine, and that 11 days after the 18th is the 29th, and that they had known for some time that it was going to be the Easter weekend (everywhere but Dundee). 'Are you sure it didn't say 11 working days?', she asked ever so politely. 'No', I insisted, 'it said "Delivery will take 11 days*".' Underneath, in the not very small print (it was an email afterall), it said '*exluding weekends and bank holidays'. Ooops! Nevertheless, it worked. The dryer arrived within three hours, and is now happily burning up the earth's natural resources in order to make sure that our clothes are clean, dry, easier to iron and smell nice.

Thought I would give the wig a trim... but it was just too fast for me - like trying to catch a cat. Damned sciatica. I can wait though!

Are you not ready yet!

2005-03-30T01:11:00.000Z

The end of my Pad is fast approaching - only 12 more days to go before it is all over. Since I just bought a new camera and a whole collection of lenses to go with it, I think that I might continue - although perhaps without the same dedication as before. I must say this about the PaD project: it is addictive, and the need to capture something every day has certainly opened my eyes up to things that before I would have simply not paid any attention to. It is a marvellous gift to receive: to notice the beauty in plain everyday objects, such as a pebble on the beach, a shadow in a puddle, the paint peeling off an old mortice lock and moments with my friends and with my family.

I love it and the way that it has unleashed a creative side that in my everyday life of work and travel I had forgotten I had. I also love the way that it has let me capture moments in my life that otherwise would have been lost. When I look at my old PaD images, and read the often lengthy captions, I am able to remember the day and everything that happened - where I went, what I ate, who I met. It has truly enabled me to capture time.

I am also in awe at many of the wonderful images that you place here, that give me an insight into your lives and worries - that is one of the most wonderful things about Pbase, and which sets it above the other image hosting sites.

This brings me nicely to the people that I have met, both virtually and physically. Pedro welcomed me, a complete stranger, into his home to share moments of his life in his beautiful town with his family and friends. A friendship has been formed that I believe will last the test of time.

Then there is Gavin, who lives less than a mile from my house - and almost practically on the same street! A nicer person you could not hope to meet, a man whose passion for photography is infectious, and whose ability to make Dundee look attractive is astonishing. He really is a fine photographer, generous to a fault and a very good friend.

Zak has been my greatest inspiration, though. Zak lives on the island on which I spent the first 18 years of my life, and where most of my family still live. I met him through an Isle of Bute forum, and he inspired me to upload some pictures that I had taken during a trip to the island. It all kind of took off from there. And how can I not mention Andy, aka Northstar! Andy is one of those rare people that it is impossible to dislike. He is both funny and wise, and his family are a joy to be with. Then there are the blutakbeasts who lurk about, and who are willing to share some of their stories with me at times when I severely lack inspiration.

Virtually, I believe that I have made many, many friends - far too many to name, but you all know who you are. Hopefully one day I will get to meet some of you in person - I'll start with Europe and work my way across to the States and Canada, then to NZ and Oz.

The past few weeks have been very difficult for me, as I have not been able to get around very much. I hope my condition improves before spring really hits us, because I want to be able to show you Scotland at its very best. But you have all been wonderfully patient and kind. So I want to say a big thank you, and welcome you to my boudoir.... So form an orderly queue and no pushing! (PS Now you know what Scotsmen wear under their kilts: great big pink wigs - only just big enough too!)

pretty in pink, or fabulous in fuschia?

2005-03-29T01:10:00.000Z

I'm an awful worrier, apparently. I was up bright and early today, for a busy morning was on the cards. No sooner had I switched the radio on than the doorbell rang. Who could it be at 7.30am, I wondered! Well, I'll tell you. It was the postman with a recorded delivery for me. My 50mm f/1.8 arrived! However, that was a pleasure that would have to wait, I had other more pressing things to do.

First of all, I managed to get the old tumble dryer out of the porch that has been its home for the past 14 years. I did so by simply opening the porch door, manoeuvring the machine to the top of the stair, and pushing. Boy did it make a noise as it tumbled down the stone steps to land - miraculously in one piece and right side up - on the patio. Next task was perhaps the most important, as it would set me in the right frame of mind for the coming tribulation: breakfast and a double bill of Everybody Loves Raymond.

With the rest of the family gone, I had time to shave, cut my hair, shower, post the Harry Potter book and catch the bus into town for my meeting with Ted Heath. I will say this... he (and his colleagues down at the DWP) were a very pleasant bunch who gave me some excellent news. I am now awaiting a fat government cheque for the time I have been ill - backdated to the beginning of February. I suspected things were going to go well when the assessment officer's first words to me were: 'Hello, Mr. Jones. You are entitled to Incapacity Benefit.' Isn't it great living in a country with a welfare state that works (sometimes)! Not only that, but the piece de resistance is that one week before I am finally well enough to work again (i.e., the week before my last sick line expires), I have to contact the Job Centre and arrange to attend a 'getting back to work after being ill' seminar that lasts two hours. The incentive? Two hundred pounds worth of them!

With all this good news ringing in my ears, I was thinking about giving my new lens an outing - but then remembered the tumble dryer delivery. On arrival home, no sign of said appliance, or of a note saying they had been. What there was, though, was a package containing a strange pink thing that is presently touring Scotland as part of its round the world journey.

Gavin nipped up for a coffee and a blether, and to model the infamous wig for my new lens to capture (see picture). He's letting me hold on to the Tokina 28mm f/2.8 in the meantime - but I must say that the 50mm f/1.8 is quite probably about to become my new favourite (although there will always be space in my heart for the 28mm).

I'm still waiting for the tumble dryer, by the way. I suspect that they won't be delivering it today. Otherwise the day was a good one: I'm entitled to get money from the government, I got a new lens, and the wig's here (although it didn't manage to bring any of that San Francisco sunshine with it).

Click here for the Wiggy Stu gallery
Click here to see the Wiggy World Tour

The weight of the world!

2005-03-28T01:09:00.000Z

I woke up this morning very, very worried. On reflection, I was worrying about something that is not very serious at all, but, nonetheless, I was worried. Ever since I came back from Portugal at the end of January and developed my current ailment, I have been practically housebound. If there is one thing during the past eight weeks that you could bet your mortgage on, it is that I would almost certainly be in the house. Tomorrow we are having our new tumble dryer delivered - and like all things in this modern digital age, the delivery company cannot give us a more specific delivery time than "sometime between 8.30am and 4pm... and we won't leave it with a neighbour, and if there is no-one in when we call, then we will take it back to the warehouse and there will be a missed delivery charge applied". So, on that basis, and under that financial threat, someone has to be in the house all day to await the new domestic appliance (oh... and they won't deliver up stairs either - and nor will they remove the appliance from the packaging) . As I said, normally this wouldn't be a problem, but tomorrow I have to meet with the officials of the Department of Work and Pensions to assess my ability to suffer fools and try to keep a straight face whilst being interviewed by a person by the surname of Heath, the parents of whom had enough of a sense of humour to name their son Ted (I jest not). I don't know what I'll do if he has a big grin and a penchant for sailing blazers - although I am sure that it will result in me being disqualified from any state assistance! So, that's what I was worried about: there being no-one to take delivery of the tumble dryer (and it will be Sod's law - tomorrow they'll come at 9, when they usually come at 4) and meeting someone called Ted Heath. The things that go through my mind at that moment between sleep and consciousness don't bear thinking about. With today being a bank holiday everywhere except Dundee, I was unable to get the delivery date changed - so now I'll be worrying all night again. Then my bleeding email asked me for my password!!! It's never done that before! So I had to phone the ISP and get them to tell me what it was... and you'll never guess... they asked me for my password in order to reset it! Duh! Got that sorted out, just in time to receive an email telling me that a colleague of mine donated money to help get the CPHRC back up and running. By the end of the evening, I went from having no emails to having five (and that's not including my hotmail and yahoo ones) - including one that I didn't know I had. I seem to becoming a bit of a collector.

Not a shameless plug at all!

2005-03-27T01:08:00.000Z

Happy Easter, everyone! Do you want to know what I've been up to all day? Tough, because I'm going to tell you anyway - so if you have a low boredom threshold I would advise you to walk away now, and go and look at some real photographs instead of this ever so blatant plug. The main reason that I haven't been as particular as usual in doing my rounds and having a look at your pictures recently is all bound up in my decision a few days ago to withdraw my research centre's website from the internet. In what can only be described as a fit of pique, I deleted the whole lot from the server - six years worth of work! Why did I do this, I don't hear you ask? Well, I have been doing it all myself for a long time now, and, to be quite honest, it was getting a bit too much for me. The site was huge - with over 1500 pages, and receiving in excess of 120,000 hits each month. The Portuguese government gave it awards (I even got to meet two Portuguese presidents and a number of government ministers), and it was included in the Ministry of Education's national curriculum as required reading for secondary school students of history and politics. On top of all this, many university professors in the US, Canada, Europe and elsewhere had put it on their reading lists (can you even imagine the number of emails I get from undergraduate students wanting me to write their term papers for them!). Anyway, to cut a long story short, I just got fed up providing this service for free, and decided to take the whole lot down. Now I am in the middle of rebuilding the site - only this time if people want to get 'value-added' information (i.e. articles and analyses), then they are going to have to pay. I have also taken the opportunity to rationalise the CPHRC 'group' into various 'departments' - each of which offer different services (at a price). As you can see, I have added a photography section through which I will hopefully be able to sell some of my photographs. So, sorry for not commenting as I usually do, and very sorry for not putting up a real photo. I just wanted to give you some explanation (and most certainly not take the opportunity to shamelessly plug my businesses! But if you need my help, my rates are extremely reasonable!!).

Why can't the clocks go forward at 4pm on a Monday?

2005-03-26T01:07:00.000Z

Ooops! Late again! This is becoming a bit of a habit lately - that and not doing my rounds of all of your work. There are two - perhaps even three - reasons for this malaise, and at least one of them is good (well I think so), while the others I'll leave for you to decide. Firstly, you may or (probably) may not have noticed that I have had to delete my CPHRC website - a labour of love of mine from its inception in September 1998, when I didn't even know how to link one page to another, and when I used all of the free websites to make horrible navigation buttons for me. Way back then, the site was manageable as a hobby - it had about 20-30 pages, and there were people who were quite willing to offer (temporary) hindrance. As the months passed, however, the site grew until it reached over 1500 pages and was receiving over 120,000 hits each month. As well as being much more difficult for me to keep it up to date and answer questions about all manner of things concerning the Portuguese Republic's history, I was also having to try to keep up to date with all the developments in HTML and XML coding. It got to the stage where I really needed to create a MySQL and PHP database just to keep the vast amount of information in easily retrievable format. Then I was getting requests from journalists and media researchers (even film producers and documentary makers) to give them free advice (soon knocked that one on the head). The strangest request I got, which in hindsight I should perhaps have accepted, was to appear on the Fred McAulay BBC Radio Scotland show last July. For those of you who don't know, McAulay's show is not the most serious on the radio and, although I am a fan, I was quite surprised to hear that they wanted me on. Ever the professional (if I say it often enough, some people might actually start to believe me!) I phoned the researcher back and asked her what kind of questions I should expect to be asked (remembering that the Portuguese prime minister had just resigned to accept appointment as EU President). I was flummoxed when she told me that they wanted me to take part in a table tennis match against a Greek person on the roof of the BBC's studios in Glasgow as their way of honouring the Portugal v. Greece European Championships final! I refused to go - not because I think that I am above such trivial pursuits: no, I refused because I can't play table tennis, and didn't want to make an arse of myself on national radio. Anyway, I digress. The reason my photos have been appearing late and without much effort or thought going into them is that after six years of being freely available to all and sundry I have to recreate the CPHRC as a paysite, as well as launch the new CPHRC services (Book Editing, Translating, Publishing, Photography and Research). The other reasons are... I was watching the Italy v. Scotland game (still lost, but at least there are signs of improvement) and... well... errr... That's it really. So, to celebrate St David's day (only 25 days late), here's a daffodil. The first that I have held in my hands this year.

That scary man's back!

2005-03-25T01:06:00.000Z

I've made my first sale on eBay. Well, actually, if I am to be completely honest, I made a sale on Liam's behalf - he managed to sell a Harry Potter book that he never read (he was never into it). I have some stuff up too - mostly unwanted gifts that I have received in the past. It would seem, though, that I am not the only person who doesn't want any of them - there is a whole world of people out there who have no interest in purchasing unused and unwanted Rod Stewart, Kylie Minogue or Lisa Stansfield CDs (that's a hint, by the way). I've had a good rummage about the house and the outhouses for things that I could sell. All the time I had it in my head the cliche that one person's rubbish is another person's gold - and a trawl through eBay almost had me convinced of the truth of this. However, all I could find was rubbish that the council would charge me money to take away! I was thinking about selling some of my 1980s 12-inch singles and LPs - you know, the embarassing stuff that you find lurking in the deepest recesses of the hall cupboard. Someone told me that there was a bit of a craze for old Electropop and New Romantic vinyl by club DJs - I'm not so sure about that (although I was somewhat surprised to discover that Depeche Mode had become huge - I have their first LPs and 12" singles!). So anyway, it doesn't look as if I'm about to make my fortune selling on the internet, so I'll just have to resort to the good old fashioned way, by buying lots of lottery tickets. While I'm gone, I'll leave you with this rather awful picture of me on my university ID card. If you save it as a wallpaper, and play classical music, your children will not come within 100 yards of your computer - so my ugly mug at least has some uses!

Ringing in the changes

2005-03-24T01:06:00.000Z

Would you Adam and Eve it? I've only just gone and won another auction on eBay. At this rate I'll soon become one of the biggest spenders that they have ever seen - or perhaps not. Yet again my purchase was camera lens related. Well, I've had to provide myself with some small consolation now that I have to give Gavin his lens back. I managed to pick up a Nikkor 50mm f/1.8 for a pittance (the postage almost cost as much as the lens), and I am hoping that it will sort of make up for losing the 28mm f/2.8. I know that they are not the same - or even remotely similar - lenses, but they are both small. Owning a small lens will be a bit of a new development for me. I wonder how I'll cope? I was going to take today's photo with the borrowed lens - as a kind of farewell - but changed my mind, and decided to use the big macro zoom instead (might as well get some use out of it). There is no particularly great story behind today's image, apart from the fact that I wanted to stand at the other end of the room and take a close up shot of some things sitting on my desk. I think the lens did well given the lighting conditions - I don't like having the ceiling light switched on, and I tend to do all my work under my halogen desk lamp - both my written (paid) work and my indoor photographs. So, given that the subjects were lit only by a single halogen desk lamp, I think I did a not too bad job focusing. Nothing much to report on the domestic front, apart from a lengthy phone call from Lisbon assuring me that I still have a contract at least until 2006 (which is probably the next time they'll get round to paying me no doubt). It's damned hard work speaking Portuguese on the telephone when you're stuffed full of prescribed chemicals - it's damned hard work speaking Portuguese full stop (unless you happen to be Portuguese or Brazilian - then I guess it must be quite easy: easy enough for small children!). Come to think of it. Sometimes it's a struggle speaking English - particularly on the telephone. The only other thing of note that happened today is that my cousin has borrowed my M603 with a view to buying it, and Liam came home looking like he'd lost a tenner and found a penny - but then what's new with that: he's almost a teenager - morose is the the teenage thing, isn't it. As for the photo - I've included the old Kodak film for Ian's sake - adds a bit of colour, and we all know how much you like your splashes of colour, Ian!

High tech... 1950s style

2005-03-23T01:05:00.000Z

Would you look at the number of days that I have been doing this! 346 - would you believe it! I must have miscounted, because it just doesn't seem that long. Still, when I look at pictures I took of Liam when I started on Pbase, and compare them with ones I have taken recently, I am amazed at the changes that I notice in him (for one thing - his top lip is now covered in bumfluff). He has changed from a boy into a teenager, and while I have noticed the change in his interests and behaviour (yes, he is less interested in going to the 'Den' to dig holes in the ground and pro-wrestling, and much more interested in girls and - believe it or not - politics. Of his own volition, and reading the books that I have in my possession, Liam is becoming a socialist - just like his old dad! Chip off the old block!), the change in appearance has been much more subtle. One thing I have noticed, however, is the increasing amount of grey hairs that are sprouting from my body - mainly in my beard, but also around the temples. I will skip past my steadily expanding waistline, and put that down to my inability to do much in the way of exercise just now (and a liking for chocolate and ice-cream - preferably in the same dish). Linda, on the other hand, has been losing weight - putting me to shame she is. Almost a year under the belt, and during that time I have had (and still have) three cameras - my old and trusty point and shoot M603 (which will soon be going on Ebay, methinks), the superb S7000Z (which I would recommend to anyone who is interested in macro photography, and who can't be bothered humping around huge macro lenses and tripods, or who lack the patience to stick lenses on backwards), and finally, my new friend, the D70, and its colleagues, the Nikkor f/3.5 18-70, Tokina f/3.5 28-200 macro zoom, Tokina f/3.5 28-85 and finally, my borrowed friend, who will soon be making one mile journey back to Gavin's house, my favourite lens of them all, the little Tokina f/2.8 28mm. Time and technology halt for no man. Talking of which, a couple of days ago I told you that my old and fully functioning 300-type bakelite phone was ahead of its time: it had a telephone number storage device. Here's the proof - a drawer on the bottom, with a plastic folder into which a piece of card on which the numbers were written could be stored. Much easier to use than those modern gizmos - well at least for Luddites like me!

Fuzzie Mizzie

2005-03-22T01:04:00.000Z

Oh the excitement. This morning I received one of the lenses that I bought on Ebay at the weekend, and I have been desperate to give it an outing. Unfortunately, however, the elements conspired against me, what with Dundee being dull, overcast and misty all day. Not to worry, though, the new lens is a macro zoom, so I can take my favourite type of shots without having to actually get up close and personal - at 200mm, that translates to 300mm on the D70 - so I should be able to shoot macros from the comfort of the sofa! As you see, I took some shots of Mizzie - she was in the living room and I was at the Post Office - she wouldn't sit still. She is a cat, afterall, and she has to preen herself for the camera - I just thought that I'd catch her off guard before she assumed cat pose position. Technically quite a poor picture, I know. I should have used a tripod and Mizzie should have posed nicely, but, all these slight niggles aside, I find that I really, really like this picture - she looks like a duster! My good friend Gavin came round to see me, and we sat in the house blethering and looking at various people's photos (oh, Jude... you really shouldn't be swinging heavy cameras about - especially if they are not yours to break! You'll have a big lump there!) and generally blethering about this and that. I think that I may have worn him down about the little Tokina f/2.8 28mm lens that I like so much - he has agreed to let me keep it if I win the Ebay auction for the Tokina 28-55mm lens (I already got one - but I was bidding on another at the same time, and it looks as if I'm going to get it as well). We'll see, we'll see. Oh! Many of you asked the other day if the old phone that Mizzie was sitting beside was a working model. Well, yes it is - it works perfectly, and has a very loud bell. We rarely use it though, because we have one of those wireless ones that work up to 100m from the base station - and the old bakelite handset on the 300-type is very, very heavy. Perhaps tomorrow I will demonstrate one of the 300-type's technological innovations: it could store numbers!

Passing muster

2005-03-21T01:03:00.000Z

Boy am I tired. I don't know why it should be the case, but lately I have been waking up at around 5am (must be the early dawns we are starting to get!). I usually get up to let Mizzie out, because as soon as she knows that someone has stirred, she wastes no time in making sure that they don't get any peace. Since I'm downstairs anyway - having let Mizzie out to do whatever cats do at 5am - I make myself a cup of coffee, then go back to bed with a book. The book is chosen carefully because it is better than any sleeping tablets. I won't say who the book is by, because the author is a friend of mine, and he even thanked me in his acknowledgements. Anyway, one page of that is sure to send you back to the land of nod. Nevetheless, come 10pm, I start to flag and my eyelids begin to get heavy. I'm not sure if it is the medication that I am on that is causing this - although I suspect that it may be, since I have been advised that one of the side affects of this medication is drowsyness and an inability to concentrate (at least that's what I tell Linda when she wants me to do something!). I got a phone call from the Benefits Agency this morning - this is my fist ever dealing with the government department that dishes out money to ill people. The woman asked me if I had details of my mortgage - so I rummaged around my extremely untidy desk until I found a letter from the bank containing all the details. She never asked me for any information from this letter at all. She then asked my if I had the sick line from the doctor. I told her that I had somewhere - so I rummaged some more until I eventually found it. Once more, she didn't want any information from the line. Anyway, the upshot is that I have to go down to the office next week with my doctor's line and two forms of identification. Apparently I will have to undergo tests at the DWP offices just to make sure that I am unable to work. How they intend to assess me, I don't know, because it is not as if I am about to be doing anything physically strenuous, and the drugs ensure that my mental abilities are diminished by my almost constant wish to sleep. The upshot of all this, however, has nothing at all to do with sore legs, doctors or the Benefits Agency. Rather, the fact that I had to rummage around for important documents (mortgage agreement and sick line) told me that my desk needed cleared and cleaned. After yesterday's exertions, I remained very sore about the leg, but still managed to tidy up. This is what it looks like now - with the blutakbeast photog snapping away at some Cybermen (for those of you who have never seen Dr Who, then you don't know what you're missing). This is a tribute to the BBC for bringing the world's most famous timelord back to our small screens! (I was scared of the cybermen, because the entrance to their spaceship looked like - and probably was - a toilet seat. I used to hold in all my ablutions on a Saturday night when I was a kid!).

Hanging on the telephone

2005-03-20T01:02:00.000Z

I had a thrilling time today. Somewhat stung by all the criticisms of the microscopic particles of dust that the halogen lamp and Fulji's supermacro caught on the black lens that Gavin loaned me the other week, I decided to take matters into my own hand and give my workstation a really good clean - and with disinfectant as well!. I started off with all of my camera equipment, which I cleaned thoroughly with soapy water, taking care to clean the D70s CCD with an old toothbrush and some Mr Muscle (okay, I made that bit up). I cleaned as much of the dust off of the cameras and lenses as I could with a size free nylon brush. Once that was done, I set about the monitor, webcam, microphone, router and cable modem. They were all thoroughly cleaned with Dettol. I moved onto the desk, which I also cleaned with Dettol (no chance of catching MRSA at my workstation). I took the ball out of my mouse, gave it a wipe clean then got all the bits of yuck that seems to get stuck to the rollers inside the mouse. I threw the old mousemat out, and invested in a fancy new one that also has a calculator on it, which keeps getting in the way of the mouse. I removed every single button from my keyboard and cleaned them in antiseptic disinfectant, then wiped the pads with cotton-buds soaked in Dettol. Once that was done, I vacuumed the keyboard before replacing all the keys. Finally, I vacuumed the inside of my processor case. Now not only is my workstation clean, but it also smells like a hospital. Next weekend I will make a start on my desk. With all this cleaning going on , I managed to miss the CIS cup final, so I don't know - much less care - who won (although I suspect that it was Rangers). I went out to pick Liam up from his friends, and when I came back home I found Mizzie waiting for a phone call. The quality of this picture, which was taken with the kit lens, perhaps explains why I am so keen to keep the Tokina f2.8 28mm, which I will have to return to its rightful owner later this week. Never mind... I've finally managed to figure out how to win Ebay auctions, so I'll be keeping my eyes open for one coming up.

Loaned lens

2005-03-19T01:01:00.000Z

All set for a day of sport today. I was toying with the idea of making my way down to Tannadice to watch Celtic regain their rightful position at the top of the league by beating a recently woeful Dundee United. The last time Celtic were at United, Liam and I went along. However, I decided against it for a number of reasons. Firstly, my leg is still sore (although not nearly as sore as it once was). Secondly, I wouldn't want to jinx Celtic. Thirdly, I've just had to shell out on car repairs, a new tumble dryer, a D70 and I just won an Ebay auction for a new lens - so money is in short supply. Fourthly, if I went to the game, I would miss the Wales v. Ireland 6-Nations decider. Finally, I am happy in my role as an armchair supporter, so I just couldn't be arsed. Instead, I sat in front of my computer, watching my Ebay bid (is there some software out there that catches last minute bids without having to watch the screen like a hawk?) whilst listening to Celtic narrowly scrape a win against the bottom placed team in the league (I suppose it's always difficult against a team that has recently lost their manager, as all the players are determined to impress the new boss). From the radio commentary, it seemed clear that our new striker (at least until May) played a blinder, and Chick Young, BBC Sportsound's man with his ear to the ground, told us that the Celtic manager was to make an important announcement at 4pm - the clear implication being that the Celtic board had prised open the infamous biscuit tin, and were prepared to offer Craig Bellamy a permanent deal (following Bellamy's own admission that should Celtic make the right offer, then he would be willing to commit himself to the club on a long term deal). On the basis of this impending announcement, I remained glued to my radio - missing the Wales v. Ireland game in the process. At the appointed hour the much hyped announcement was made: Celtic's manager told us that he would like to be able to sign Bellamy on a longer deal, but that the decision was ultimately up to the board. And I missed the rugby for that! Still, not to worry, we still had the big match coming up at 6pm: the England v. Scotland Calcutta Cup match. Once again Scotland played abysmally during the first half, only to come out in the second with all guns blazing. I was impressed with the second half committment that they showed against the Auld Enemy, as they fought for everything and even managed to score some tries - winning the half by 19 points to 17 (just as we beat Wales in the second half last week). Unfortunately, however, the game lasts 80 minutes, and England went in at half-time leading by 26 to 3. Never mind. The only way is up. BTW: this is a picture of the lens that Gavin loaned me that I like so much. He still won't give me it to keep ;(

Never rains but it pours!

2005-03-18T01:00:00.000Z

It's just so typical of the luck that we've been having recently! I am usually very careful with money (did I hear someone say tightfisted?), and tend not to spend more than I have. There is a very good reason for this - I am self-employed, and often have to fight tooth and nail to get money out of my clients (many of whom seem to think that I will be able to wait to be paid for work I have done for them - I'd like to see them trying that one on with the checkout assistant at the supermarket, or the garage...) Anyway, the point is that I try not to put money out until I've received money in. This, in large part, explains why I waited so long to get my new camera. I first thought about it back in September, but waited six-months until March - because that is when I got paid five of the six months that I was owed by my 'best' (and I use that word very reluctantly) client. I had sufficient funds to pay for the camera, and still have enough left over to ensure that the wolves wouldn't be scratching at our door. All is well, then sh*t happens. The car broke down, and involved us in a fairly substantial expense that we hadn't budgeted for. Still, we're not exactly poor (yet), so while it was an expense we could do without, it wasn't a complete tragedy. All we need to do to get through to payday is give up our glamourous lifestyle of caviar and champagne and stick instead to plain bread and tap water, then we will manage. I suppose I shouldn't really be bidding for lenses on Ebay (I'll just sell some of Liam's old PS1 games - but don't tell him!). Well, to top it all, today the tumble dryer finally decided that it had had enough of life and refused to work. Personally, I don't know why we need a tumble dryer when it's warm(ish) and sunny(ish) outside, but then I am willing to admit that I am no expert on the intricacies of laundering clothes. If having clean clothes to wear each day is contingent upon having a functioning tumble dryer, then a functioning tumble dryer we must have. Now we are just waiting for it to be delivered. I hope (and expect) that the new one will last as long as the one that just died, which I think is about the same age as me (21)! (BTW, Gavin... I love this lens... are you sure you don't want to just give it to me? - it's nearly Linda's birthday!)

Happy Paddy's Day!

2005-03-17T00:59:00.000Z

It's Saint Paddy's Day! A time for drinking people the world over to get drunk and generally have a good time lining the pockets of whoever owns Guinness nowadays. Not that I grudge them... not a bit of it. I am partial to the black stuff myself, and even spent one year of my life working in an Irish bar (a proper Irish bar) honing my skills at both pouring and consuming the perfect pint of Guinness. I acquired quite a taste for the stuff... all the more so because it was free (for staff on duty, that is). Since I was given the rather grand, but practically meaningless title of bar manager, I tended to be on duty quite a lot. The owner of the pub - and my employer, a character from Dublin who shall remain nameless (although I am certain that some readers of this page will know who I'm talking about), told me on the day that he employed me that there were few rules that it was my duty to make sure the staff who were, apparently, under my control followed. The first rule was to make sure that there were never any empty glasses on the tables. The waitresses all knew what they had to do, and they were all very good at doing it. The second rule was that only Irish music could be played, and as the night progressed, the music had to be of the type that encouraged the consumption of alcohol. The third rule was that the air conditioning had to be switched off when the place was busy as this would make people hot and more inclined to drink. The fourth rule was that at no time were the staff to be more inebriated than the customers. Needless to say, this was a rule that was rarely kept. The customers seemed to like it, and they came in their droves to enjoy the craic. I worked in the bar during its first year, and it must be now approaching its tenth year. When I worked there, it was always jam packed full on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. We did our best to keep the waitress service going, but it always got to the stage when they had to be called behind the bar to help the bar staff. The bar opened just a few days before Paddy's night, and every year since it's opening, the owner has held a birthday party for invited guests only - the party is a free bar. Although I have an open invitation, I have only ever managed to get to one of these parties - the rest of the time I have just not managed to be in Lisbon on the day. As for tonight, I'm sure that there will be a band of itinerent musicians playing, and that the owner will sing his party piece (Whiskey in the Jar) to the gathered drunken throng. I'm sure they'll have a great time. So, I would like to say to all the people I have ever known at the first and best Irish Pub in Lisbon, O'Gillin's in Cais do Sodre, have a great Paddy's night, wherever you may be now.

Hitting the ground running

2005-03-16T00:58:00.000Z

I've been trying out some demo software for the past couple of days. One that I have been having a play about with is Image Doctor, which I have found to be an excellent tool - although I'm not so sure that it is worth the £90 that they are asking for it. Anyway, I have been using the demo to clean up as many of my old JPEGs as possible before the 30 day trial period is over (you may have noticed that there has been an improvement in the quality of many of the images I have posted here). I still have seven days, and I have reached the middle of September. Since I started shooting RAW at the beginning of December, I should be able to get most of my images cleaned up (does that make me a bad person?). Another demo I have been using recently is Capture One LE, an excellent standalone RAW converter that is produced by Phase One. I cannot praise this piece of software highly enough. The quality of the images it produces knocks CS's Camera Raw right out of the field (although, having said that, if Capture One has a tool for cleaning up chromatic abberations, I have yet to come across it - so I wouldn't dismiss Camera Raw completely). I fully intend to give the demo of Capture One's Pro version a go, if it is possible to do so. However, I think that I will be buying the LE version (which costs $99 as opposed to $499 for the Pro version). If you want to make some comparisons between the two RAW converters that I have, then compare my Pad images from today and yesterday with earlier ones. I know that the differences will be very difficult to notice on the low res JPEGS, but take my word for it, there is a difference (or maybe it is all just in my head). Alternatively, download the fully funcional 15-day demo for yourself (www.phaseone.com). Talking about comparisons between really good and just good, Celtic have managed to put themselves back in pole position in the league again. If we beat Dundee United at the weekend (if!!!!! if!!!!! - they are the bottom placed team, and they have just sacked their manager!!!!), then we move back to our rightful position at the top of the league, two points ahead of Rangers. Now we just need to make sure that we keep winning and that we keep scoring lots and lots of goals, and hope that we don't lose at Ibrox, then Celtic will be crowned Scottish Champions yet again! Oh... we won tonight!

Earning the money to finance my habit

2005-03-15T00:57:00.000Z

Contrary to expectations, it was quite a nice feeling going back to work yesterday. I am very, very pleased with myself that I actually managed to translate one chapter, proofread and copyedit another, prepare abstracts for six more and make a start on the book's index. Before you think that I'm either a superman, a liar, or the material I am working on very, very short, please let me explain. This is the seventh book that I have worked on with this author. Moreover, this particular author is a very close colleague of mine: we have published a book together and have worked with each other during the past 11 years. It is fair to say, then, that I am very familiar with his work and style of writing, so translating his material is never usually a problem. The chapter was the usual 10,000 words, but over half of it was already in English, and since it was my English from an earlier translation, it only needed minor alterations to make allowance for the context f the newly inserted Portuguese sections. So, to be fair, it wasn't that difficult (although if you are reading this, ACP, it was extremely difficult, and I have been working on it for almost a week now). As for the rest of the material, well, it was relatively straightforward, and there wasn't really too much, apart from the usual missing references, that required attention. The abstracts were a little more difficult, and it was these that took up most of my time. Still, almost everything is now done, and once I receive the two missing chapters I will set about preparing the index and list of abbreviations. Hopefully I will be able to finish most of this within the next couple of days, as that will let me move on to the next project - another book that needs my skills as a translater, proofreader and copyeditor. Six weeks on the sick mean that I have it all to do, so I had better get to it. I see candles being burned at both ends for the next couple of weeks. It must be done though, because if I want to get a couple of new lenses for my camera (and I do), then this is the price that must be paid. Perhaps I'll let the blutak photog use his Stikon to capture Pad images for me. That way you'll all get to assess it's image quality, and I'll be able to concentrate on the ever so serious task of earning money.

Smile. And don't mention the rugby

2005-03-14T00:56:00.000Z

Damn and blast it. That'll teach me to throw the TV remote away in disgust at half-time. We didn't win (come on, we're Scotland, and sporting prowess is not our forte - we just invent useful things like tarmac, pneumatic tyres, television, telephone, raincoats and the rifled barrel, amongst other things - this last two were probably invented by someone who had just been to see Scotland play football or rugby). You see, I watched the first half of the Scotland v. Wales rugby international the way I used to watch Dr. Who do battle with the Cybermen when I was a child - through my fingers from behind the couch. My spare hand was poised over the remote control, ready to transmit me to the infinitely more interesting world of America's Next Something or Other, or America's Dumbest Criminal, at the slightest hint of a Welsh score. As it transpired, I spent most of the first 40 minutes watching various wannabe catwalk models and soontobe prisoners, rather than endure watching Wales score almost every time they got the ball. What ought to have been the final straw for me was when Scotland were within 10 yards of the Welsh try-line, and the seven points that getting the ball over that line would have meant. Instead of passing to one of the players with the blue top on (i.e., a Scotland player), we decided that the sprinter in red would be a better bet to score - and we were not mistaken for he took off like an express train, running the entire length of the pitch to score Wales's second try while all 15 Scotland players stood scratching their heads as they watched him disappear into the distance. However, I managed to endure the pain for another few minutes, at least until our utterly incompetent defence had let the Welsh through again, and again, before leaving the room. At least I think I have come up with a theory as to why Scotland produces so many medical professionals - we need to be able to heal ourselves from these all too frequent blows to our pride. However, I may have been somewhat hasty in my retreat, because I have just found out that either a different Scotland or a different Wales came out for the second half - a half that Scotland managed to win by 19 points to 8 (it's just a shame that we lost the first half by 38 points to 3!). Although we did manage to lose the game by a fairly substantial margin, we did at least succeed in scoring some tries that were allowed to stand - in all we scored three - which is three more than we have scored in the previous year! Unfortunately, though, Wales scored six. This blutakbeast newspaper photog was at the game. Not wishing to dwell on the rugby, I instead quizzed him about the thorny issue of which is the better make of camera - Nikon or Canon. He confessed that while both manufacturers produced quality machines, they couldn't touch his Stikon.

Hi-key me in front of my PC

2005-03-13T00:55:00.000Z

I gave up on trying to take pictures of drips... I'm afraid my hand-eye coordination isnit quite up to the job while I'm dosed up with gabapentin, valium and ibuprofen. I discovered that I needed three hands: one to turn the tap on, one to press the shutter release, and a third to hold onto the walking stick. So, several hundred failed attempts later, I decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and went and sat down to rethink my strategy. It did not take long for me to decide that it just wasn't worth the effort, as I don't seem to have the patience that is obviously required for a spectacular shot of dropping water. That is not to say that I won't give it a go at some date in the future, it's just that I don't think that day will be arriving any time soon. I must concentrate on getting mobile again, because the nice weather is returning and the flowers are starting to make their reappearance (I saw fields of crocuses yesterday). I need to be out and about, taking the kind of pictures that I can send to the stock agencies in the hope that they just might sell. Somehow I don't think Blutakbeasts and all the other bits and bobs that I have shot during the past few weeks will appeal (although if the manufacturers of Blutak ever feel like diversifying and make their product appeal to people who like playing with modelling clay, then I might just be in with a chance). Anyway, in the absence of any more creative thoughts, I leave you with a high-key composite of me sitting in my natural environment, holding my two best (inanimate) friends. This image was much more difficult to achieve than its appearance may suggest. It was basically two self-portraits (in itself not an easy thing to do) taken with two different cameras. A total of 30 shots went into this. Here you see me sitting in front of my PC holding both my Fuji (left) - taken with the D70 - and my D70 (right) taken with my Fuji. The best of the resulting images were fitted together and messed about with in PS until I achieved a reasonable join and hi-key finish. So. There you have it. Just don't expect me to do it again any time soon!

Rays of sunshine

2005-03-12T00:54:00.000Z

Deke has always looked after our cars, and we have always been delighted to let him, ever since he worked from a shed at the bottom of his garden. He is a fine mechanic, and is always fair and willing to do everything in his power to get the vehicle repaired without unnecessary delay. We used to have an old Peugeot 405. It was a lovely big car, with many years and lots of miles under its belt. With Deke's help, we managed to keep it going strong for over 12 years. When we got our new car, we decided to keep the faith - despite the garage warning us that using our own mechanic could cause problems should we want to sell it. I would rather stick with the hard working self-employed mechanic that I trust to look after my car and not rip me off than hand it over to a franchised garage where I don't know who's working on my car, and all I can guarantee is that I will be hit with a hefty bill at the end of it. Deke does a good job because he relies on word of mouth for business - he doesn't advertise. He now has his own workshop, and employs a couple of people to help him out. He is always busy - so he is obviously doing something right (well, he did drop what he was doing to come and rescue me and Gavin). Last night there was a knock at the door. Linda was in the shower, Liam had his headphones on playing some game on his computer. I struggled out of my chair and shuffled down the stairs, reaching the front door just in time to catch Deke putting the car key through the letterbox. Not only had he fixed the car in one day, but he also dropped it off at the house. When I thanked him for doing this, he just said that he knew that I needed the car quickly because of my present health problems, and that it would be difficult for me to get over to his place to pick it up. What franchise garage offers this level of service? That is why we continue to use Deke - he is a ray of sunshine. It is the same reason we use Dave to fix things about the outside of the house. They are both tradesmen who know how to treat their customers. If only there were more like them.

M-11 + 365

2005-03-11T00:53:00.000Z

It's hard to believe that a year has now passed since the tragic events in Madrid. I can't admit to being a regular visitor to that particular city, but I have been a few times, and can honestly say that it is one of my favourite places. I think the events of 11 March 2004 hit me quite hard because I have friends who live in the city who regularly commute from their homes to their workplace on the Cercania, and pass through Atocha station at about the time the bombs exploded. For those of you who have never visited Atocha, it is an extremely beautiful station that incorporates a botanic garden as well as several cafes and a shopping centre. If only more train stations could be like that. On the few times I visit Madrid, I make a point of going to Atocha, just to soak up the atmosphere and enjoy the vegetation. I was last there on 13 February last year, and it was in Atocha that I bought Linda her Valentine's card. I had my breakfast in one of the station's many cafes before heading up to the Retiro for a stroll. I had arrived in the Spanish capital two days earlier, on 11 February - exactly one month prior to the tragic events. I came on the Lusitânia, the overnight train from Lisbon. This train comes into Madrid's Chamartin station, but makes a stop at Atocha. While we were waiting at Atocha, I took the opportunity to stand on the platform and watch the commuters rushing past. We were in the station at 7.50am. Back in Scotland four weeks later, I was watching the BBC Breakfast news when sketchy reports about an explosion in Madrid began to come through. As the extent of the tragedy unfolded, I tuned into TVEi (Spanish TV), and sat watching, hoping against hope that no-one I knew was a victim. I tried phoning the people I knew, but couldn't get through - the Spanish mobile phone network was overloaded. I sent emails to them in the hope that they made it safely to their workplaces and would let me know they were fine. Luckily, not one of my friends or colleagues were hurt, although some of their acquaintances had been injured (thankfully not seriously). So, today I have decided to commemorate M-11 with a collage of photographs I took while I was in Madrid last February. It is my small tribute to the 191 innocent men and women who were killed as they travelled to work, to the 1600 who were injured and to all the Madrileños whose lives have been affected by the bombings.

Two great makes in one place

2005-03-10T00:52:00.000Z

The man from the bank phoned to let us know that they will let us have the money to pay for the access, driveway and new porch to our house. Hopefully all the work will begin within the month, and be completed very quickly soon thereafter. The new arrangements will require a reshuffling of rooms in the house, with the current back door becoming the main entrance. We'll need to think about what we plan to do... just now it's enough that we are finally going to have vehicular access to the house! The trials and tribulations of being me continue unabated today. Somehow yesterday I managed to pull a muscle in my back, and, combined with my sciatica, I am practically immobile. To top it all, the only useful person in the house thinks she is coming down with the 'flu. The tale of woes continues, with my Pbase site being stalked by someone, allegedly from Leeds and who uses the name Tariq Hussain, who has been leaving abusive, threatening and foul-mouthed messages accusing me of being a 'Nazi racist scumbag' (or four-letter words to that effect). I suspect that the person is not what he claims to be, but is rather someone who wants muslims and Asians to appear in a bad light. Whatever their motive, I have been forced to block anonymous and unregistered comments. It is a shame when idiots like Mr 'Hussain' force people to do this, but I suppose we have to accept that there will always be intolerant bigots in the world, who use anonymity and the internet to foist their own particular narrow-minded prejudices on the rest of us - even on photographic websites. Anyway, since I remain unable to get out and about, I have decided to fall back on my trusty Fuji to take a photograph of two imaging products by two rival companies: my Nikon camera and my Canon scanner. I will apologise to Ian straight away for dumping yet another monochrome image on you all, but the colour function in my shutter release button finger seems to be malfunctioning.

F@*!#?& car

2005-03-09T00:51:00.000Z

Well then. Today didn't go quite as planned. In fact it was an adventure, a very expensive adventure that I could quite do without. Let me explain as calmly as I possibly can. I met up with Gavin for a coffee. Rather than sit bumping our gums in the comfort of the Tesco cafe, I suggested that we take advantage of the fact that I had the car to go somewhere photogenic. You see, I've had my new camera for a few days now, and I haven't had a chance to give it a good workout. So, full of joy, we squeezed Gavin's bike into the back and set off in the general direction of Auchterhouse. The weather closed in on us, so our photo opportunities were severely restricted. It didn't help matters when we discovered that the main road to Newtyle was closed, forcing us to double back on ourselves and reconsider our options. We decided to head to Blairgowrie, and were moving in that direction when we noticed that there was a great deal of rain and mist ahead of us. We passed Pitcur Castle, when I, as driver, unilaterally decided to turn down towards the Ballo Glack, Abernyte and on towards Inchture in the Carse of Gowrie. The last time I was at the Ballo Glack, the warm sun was shining (well, it was July). This time, it was misty and wet. Still, bad weather doesn't make a place any less interesting - just colder, darker and wetter. It was not the best choice, and, combined with my inability to stand up straight without leaning on a walking stick, I never really gave myself a chance. I hardly took any photos, and of these only one turned out reasonably well. So, wet and dejected, we got back into the car and carried on our way. As we joined the dual carriageway at Inchture, the engine suddenly died. The car coasted to a halt in a bus-stop layby, and refused to restart. Luckily, Gavin had his mobile with him, so I called home and got Linda to call our trusty mechanic, Deke. Despite being busy, Deke eventually rescued us, immediately diagnosed the problem (broken timing belt) and towed us back to his garage (and that was a scary experience that I am in no rush to repeat) before hitting me with the bad news (no car for a week, and big bill at the end of it). Long and short: miserable weather, no nice photos and a broken-down car. I wouldn't blame Gavin for never coming out to take photos with me ever again. Hell, I wouldn't go out with me!

The slates are coming off the academic roof!

2005-03-08T00:50:00.000Z

When I was young, my Nana used to tell me that if I had nothing nice or constructive to say, then it would be better not to say anything at all. There are times when I've wished, after the fact, that I had heeded this wise counsel. There are other times when I've bit my tongue when perhaps I should have let fly with invective. I must admit that I have never adhered rigidly to this rule, and you would have to ask the people who know me whether I am a better or worse person because of it. I must admit that I have very strong opinions on a whole range of matters (some of which I have actually thought about first), and, just occasionally, I have been known to speak without thinking (would you believe it?), or to spout forth about things that I really know very little about at all (see yesterday's pad). There are times when the red mist descends, and I adopt the attitude that I am the fount of all knowledge on all things, and for fear of being caught out, I am able to assume the appearance of gravitas that seems to undermine the confidence of my interlocutor - even to the extent of convincing them that they are wrong when in fact they are right. I have also been known to convince people that I had been agreeing with them all along, and that the appearance of any initial disagreement was down to their misunderstanding of my position. These are all skills that a career in academe - attending conferences and delivering papers - has given me. The golden rule appears to be (particularly in academe) that if you appear to know what you are talking about, and can waffle with extreme confidence, you can get away with all sorts of nonsense - for the simple reason that your academic peers will, 9 times out of 10, be reluctant to contradict you lest they appear stupid. It is a rule that has served me well these past years. Be confident, talk a good game, don't let on that you are winging it and if that fails, browbeat and confuse. As for today? Well, since I have nothing constructive or nice to say, I think I will follow my Nana's advice.

The narrowness!

2005-03-07T00:49:00.000Z

Back to the grind, I am. Or at least I will be after lunch. I will do a complete 10-hour shift from 1pm (although I will stop for supper), and get one of the monkeys off my back - all so I can concentrate on the other dozen or so! I am having fun with my new piece of essential business equipment. Learning how to use it and comparing it with my Fuji. All of you who possess the S7000Z will know that it has a superb macro and supermacro function. With the supermacro set, you can focus at distances as small as 10mm, and no matter what aperture setting you use at that distance, you will always get superb depth. I know that, with the correct lens (which would cost in excess of £200), the D70 will be able to get macros that blow the Fuji away. However, I don't have that lens, and I wanted to take some pictures of the bouquet of flowers that Liam gave Linda for Mother's Day (which was yesterday in the UK). This meant getting up close and personal. Obviously the kit lens would be no good for extreme close-ups, so instead I used a Tokina 28mm f/2.8 that Gavin loaned me. This lens can focus up to 9 inches from the subject - so not really a fair match for the Fuji's supermacro. While the D70 and Tokina combo couldn't get as close as the Fuji, they certainly won on the image quality stakes. Anyway, enough camera geek talk for now. Here's a picture of some pencils taken from 23cm at f/2.8. Whoarr! Look at the narrow depth of field on that!

(1) D70/Tokina 28mm f/2.8 versus (2) S7000Z

Two mugs in the garden

2005-03-06T00:48:00.000Z

Yet another lovely day trapped in the house. This morning I managed to get the next edition of our journal ready: I marked up the PDF proofs and emailed the amended copy back to the publisher, who will make the changes in Quark before sending everything to the printers. There is an editorial meeting in Lisbon on Tuesday (the first in a whole year), which I will not be able to attend. I fail to see the point of these meetings, since I - along with the journal manager at the publisher - practically run the journal: from getting articles and reviews to copyediting, typesetting and proofreading. We have now officially altered the submission process, meaning that the editorial committee have even less to do than they did before - now everything comes to me, and I pass it on to the editor with a note telling him who I have asked to referee the submitted papers! I prefer it this way because, in all my time living amongst and working with the Portuguese, I have found it to be the only way to get things done on time (or even at all). Don't get me wrong: I like Portugal and the Portuguese - but they are not the most effective people at getting things done. They seem to be overly fond of committees and unneccessary bureaucratic procedures, with no-one willing to accept any responsibility. On the other hand, as a presbyterian protestant, I have a work ethic that is very different. My philosophy is this: it doesn't matter how we get it done, as long as it gets done. And if you believe that, you'll believe anything. Anyway, I did get the journal to bed, and will soon be starting on the next issue, as well as copyediting and translating the two books and website that I have to do. Somewhere amongst all this, I have to struggle along with my sciatica, worry about impending surgery and try to get out to use my new camera. I have already had to turn down a trip along the Fife coast with Gavin and a couple of his other photographer friends (no doubt they will be stopping off at such picturesque locations as St Andrews, Crail, Pittenweem and Anstruther). You don't need to feel sorry for me - I am capable of doing that myself. So anyway, I did manage to get out to the junk heap at the back of our garden where I took this picture of my 20 year-old coffee mug and a rusty nail. Enjoy.

And so the learning begins!

2005-03-05T00:47:00.000Z

This is Linda trying to study (something I should be doing a lot more of). I am playing with my new toy (ahem! I mean to say, tax deductable business expense), and am enjoying every second of it. There are an awful lot of buttons on the camera, and I don't know what 99% of them do - although I did manage to set the machine to shoot in RAW, and now I am trying to find out how to switch off the in-camera sharpening (I know, this information is all in the book - but it is much better fun playing about with it - flying blind, as it were!). I have managed to suss out how to change the aperture and shutter speed while shooting in manual (my prefered mode), and have discovered that shooting in Av and Sv is much, much easier. My first few shots were in auto, and they seem to be quite dark - I don't know if that is me, or if it is the camera. Next thing will be to remember to adjust the ISO settings according to light conditions (something I tended to forget about with the Fuji). I am really looking forward to getting to know this camera! The Fuji - my trusty companion for the past 9 months - is not going into retirement: its macro function is second to none, and, if you know me at all, you will know that I like taking macro shots. So, until I can afford a macro lens for the D70 (and that won't be for some time), the Fuji will remain in service. Besides, it's a damn fine camera in its own right. (PS: I don't know what happened to the EXIF data, since I saved this image in the same way as I save the images from my Fuji. It's all part of the learning curve, I suppose!)

Today's the day

2005-03-05T00:32:00.000Z

This is just a placeholder, as I intend to wow the world later on today with a photograph befitting a new member of the Royal Photographic Society (okay, okay, I know.... anyone can become a member, but doesn't it sound good! Honest, I will be working towards my Licenciate Membership asap). So, I'm meeting up with Gavin in just over 30 minutes, and we are heading off down to the town where I intend to make a major purchase. I wonder what it might be?

One of my favourites

2005-03-04T00:44:00.000Z

To me, this image is an ideal representation - both literal and metaphorical - for one of my favourite films of recent years. Can you guess what it might be? The protagonist's journey starts at the bottom left, where he is happy and is able to think about his life and death. It is at this stage in the film that he can see clearly what he must do and, most importantly, come to terms with it. As the image progresses towards the top right, it becomes ever more blurred, with the bright white gradually being replaced by ever darker shades of grey. Whilst still resigned to (and at peace with) his fate, the main character demonstrates his resolve and his courage time and again. The cynical superior, who is no coward himself, is full of admiration for his charge, and secretly wishes that he could find the same peace of mind. The story races along to its inevitable dark conclusion, where the grey turns to black ("You will all die too"), and the line is blurred so much that it is difficult to see what is right and what is wrong any more. At this point, the main character forces a reluctant enemy to seal the fate that he knew was his all along: "I don't want to kill you. Don't move." I love everything about the film: the story is gripping and touching, the characters - even the cameos - are fully fleshed out and utterly believable. This is one film that deserved all the awards it received - and more. If only Hollywood could make more like it. Now... that didn't sound too pretentious, did it?

Soon, I hope!

2005-03-03T00:43:00.000Z

Gavin gave me a call yesterday morning to tell me his brilliant news and to let me know about his amazing find in the local flea market. We chatted away on the phone for a while, then I invited myself up to his house for a coffee, since I had to go to the bank anyway, and his house is on the way. I needed to get out the house anyway, so it was a good excuse. The new camera he got is absolutely fantastic - it's 50 years-old, yet it looks as if it has just come off the assembly line, and it came complete with flash, lens hood, cable release and the original leather carrying case - and everything looked brand new! I won't tell you how much he paid, because I don't want to be responsible for you all falling off your chairs. Let's just say that the stall holder obviously didn't have a clue. His other piece of excellent news was that he has sold a picture that will be used on a music CD cover. Tell you what, it couldn't happen to a nicer guy... I'm really chuffed for him to at last get the reward his dedication to the craft deserves. Let's hope that it is just the first of many sales. (Of course, you can buy my images too!!!) I never managed to get to the bank, and by the time I got home my leg was very, very sore. I thought that I was getting a bit better, but Gavin seems to think that, if anything, I have got worse. I hope he's wrong, but I must admit that last night the pain was getting to me... so much so that I hardly slept a wink. I'm feeling a bit better now, though. Hopefully this is just the nerve's final assault before it relaxes back to normality. Finger's crossed: I still have just over a week for these pills to do what they are supposed to do, and let me get better before I am referred to the neurosurgeons.

As I was saying the other day...

2005-03-02T00:41:00.000Z

Continuing the anti-scapegoating rant of yesterday. We are all losing our liberties in this populist driven 'War on Terrorism'. Imprisonment without trial, house arrest, identity cards (they really helped in Madrid!) and Government ministers, in the run up to a general election, justifying the scapegoating of an entire community because of their religion (now where and when did that happen before, I wonder?).

'Scapegoating is a hostile social-psychological discrediting routine by which people move blame and responsibility away from themselves and towards a target person or group. It is also a practice by which angry feelings and feelings of hostility may be projected, via inappropriate accusation, towards others. The target feels wrongly persecuted and receives misplaced vilification, blame and criticism; he is likely to suffer rejection from those who the perpetrator seeks to influence. Scapegoating has a wide range of focus: from "approved" enemies of very large groups of people down to the scapegoating of individuals by other individuals. Distortion is always a feature.' (The Scapegoat Society)

'UK Muslims should accept that people of Islamic appearance [sic] are more likely to be stopped and searched by police, a Home Office minister has said. Hazel Blears said innocent Muslims would be targeted because of the search for Islamic extremists. Qualifications for religious leaders to enter the UK could also be made tougher, she told a Commons inquiry... Figures showed that, for 2003/4, Asians were 1.9 times more likely to be stopped and searched, compared with 1.7 times more likely in the previous year. Separate figures on police searches in England and Wales carried out under the Terrorism Act 2000 showed that ethnic minorities were more likely to be targeted. Muslim groups have repeatedly claimed that their communities are being victimised under terror laws. In 2003/4, 12.5 per cent of searches under the laws were on Asian people, even though they make up 4.7 per cent of the population. Last July, the police were accused of Islamophobia by Muslim groups after stop and search figures showed the numbers of Asians targeted had risen by 300 per cent since the introduction of anti-terror laws.' (BBC News)

'Whether we consider questions of general justice or cankers of economic life, symptoms of cultural decline or processes of political degeneration, questions of faulty schooling or the bad influence exerted on grown-ups by the press, etc, everywhere and always it is fundamentally the disregard of the racial needs of our own people or failure to see a foreign racial menace.' Adolf Hitler.

I am not a criminal

2005-03-01T00:40:00.000Z

March already! Where are all the days going? This morning I thought that I'd pay a tribute to Lisa by imitating her Liverpool scarf image of a couple of days ago. After doing that, I began to think about the Panorama documentary on sectarianism in the west of Scotland that was broadcast on Sunday night. I don't know if it was shown down south, but if it was, it gave a highly sensationalised account of the problem, and seemed to imply that all supporters of Rangers and Celtic are sectarian bigots who are brought up on a diet of anti-Catholicism or anti-Protestantism from birth. You could have been forgiven for thinking that we are all either members of the Ulster Defence Association or the IRA, and that we like nothing better to do than to go about shouting religious slogans into each other's faces - preferably before we smash the bottle into them. As a Celtic supporter, and as someone who was brought up in the Church of Scotland, I resent this. I am not going to deny that there is a problem with a minority of both sets of supporters. Nevertheless, it is hard to see how the constant scapegoating of the two clubs and the vast majority of their supporters - who are just ordinary, decent, law-abiding people - will help solve the problem, which is, in the final analysis, a social problem - and not a sporting one. There is only so much the clubs can do, and it is simply unrealistic, not to mention unreasonable, to ban people from the grounds for singing The Fields of Athenry or The Sash My Father Wore - which is basically what is being suggested. It is not helpful interviewing convicted criminals, who just happen to support either Rangers or Celtic, and give the impression that this is what a typical Old Firm supporter is like, and how they think, and then imply that if you scratch the surface of any Old Firm fan, you will find that they have more in common with the convict than they care to admit. There is no conspiracy here. The Old Firm have a problem with some of their supporters, and that problem is sectarian in nature. Chelsea and Millwall have a problem with some of their supporters, and that is racist in nature. Yet, when it comes to the Old Firm, the media wants to have us believe that all the fans are sectarian - not just a small minority. We are all sectarian because we sing songs at the game - and that means that we must be closet thugs. It won't wash, and the BBC should not be allowed to get away with it. Sectarianism may be Scotland's secret shame, but the public shame is that they are labelling us all. To compensate for their inability to resolve the social and economic problems that fuel sectarianism in the west of Scotland (just as they fuel racism in Bradford and Leeds) they are content to try and make us ashamed of supporting either Celtic or Rangers. It's a cop out, and well they know it. I for one will not be criminalised by proxy, and I will not stop supporting Celtic. And no, I don't think all Rangers' fans have two heads either. (Tried to make this look like a photo from a newspaper.)

Here's to better days

2005-02-28T00:40:00.000Z

Just as I think my leg and back may be on the mend - obviating the need for further medical intervention - I am back to square one. I think that perhaps the way that I am constantly lulled into the belief that I am getting better is what is worst about all of this. I start to feel fine, then all of a sudden I am in agony. It comes on so quickly and without warning that all I can do is lie on the floor and wait for it to ease. I am already taking the maximum dosage of the medication, so no further relief can be expected from that quarter. I suppose all I can do now is wait and see if there will be an improvement before my next doctor's appointment on 11 March. I am trying hard to stay cheerful and optimistic, but it is getting ever more difficult with the passing of time. I am constantly reminded of how debilitated I am: I can't drive and I can't go for walks. For the past four weeks, my days out (and my only exercise), have consisted in taking the bus to the supermarket, and having a coffee in the cafe there. I look out of my kitchen window and I see Auchterhouse Hill standing there taunting me. I look out of the living-room window, and Craigowl Hill is laughing at me. I have spent most of today (when not lying on the floor) sitting at my computer writing letters to my clients explaining my situation and asking for their patience and understanding. A couple have already said that they are quite content to give me more time: as for the others... well, we'll just have to wait and see. With all of this on my mind, I have not had a chance to even look at my cameras, let alone pick them up. So, instead I leave you with an image I captured last June when I took Liam and his best friend, Joe, to Edinburgh for the day. I did the post-processing today, so I suppose it qualifies on that count. Here's to a better March.

Come on... you're winning!

2005-02-27T00:38:00.000Z

Point of clarification: by the look on Martin O'Neil's and John Robertson's faces you would think that Celtic were being beaten instead of leading 5-0! During the half-time break in the Scotland v. Italy 6 Nations game yesterday, John Inverdale mentioned that we were watching the game for the Wooden Spoon (which goes to the bottom placed team). His co-presenter in Paris, former English centre Jeremy Guscott, gave him a doubtful look, which Inverdale chose to ignore. Now, if there is one thing that really gets on my nerves, it is the arrogance of English media personalities, who either forget, or who simply don't care, that they are broadcasting to people who do not support the English teams, and who choose to gloss over the fact that their own team isn't exactly setting the heather on fire. Today at Lansdowne Road, Ireland (my favourites to win the 6 Nations this year), beat England by 19 points to 13. If Mr Inverdale would care to take a look at the table, he will notice the fact (uncomfortable for him, no doubt) that the World Champions (how often do we have to be reminded) have not managed to win a single game yet, and, along with Italy, are propping up the table with nil points. Perhaps the England v. Italy game will be the Wooden Spoon decider! I know that Scotland aren't very good, but then again... we have 2 points! (Let me enjoy it while it lasts!) I happen to believe that England will win their remaining two games (yes, I think they will beat Scotland), and that they will end up with two more points than us (because I don't think we'll beat Wales) - I just wish their commentators would stop being so smug - especially when they have nothing much to feel smug about. Yesterday I said that my perfect sports day would be victories for Celtic, Ireland and Liverpool: well, the first two came true, and the third came so close. Two out of three ain't bad. And while I'm on: I have nothing against Chelsea - I just can't stand their manager. He was a prat at Porto, and he hasn't changed since - as events at Barcelona midweek and Cardiff today have proved.

Why not open mine!

2005-02-26T00:37:00.000Z

The postman brought some joy this morning... and another book for the collection. I don't know what to do with the book. I've long since run out of shelves, and the ones that I have are already straining under the weight. They were cheapo bookcases out of B&Q, and were only ever intended as a temporary solution until I could get a joiner up to build me more substantial book storage in my study. Like most of my good ideas, however, the wooden built-in bookcases remained in my head, while the formica covered chipboard remained in place. As for the joy. Well, I received my first royalty cheque for my book, The Last Empire: 30 Years of Portuguese Decolonization (available from Amazon and all good bookstores, as well as a few rubbish ones too, for the ridiculously low price of 20 British pounds). It was unexpected, because I thought that the only people that had this book were people that I sent freebie copies to! The money, all £70 of it, will be going towards my new camera. Watch out JK Rowling... the Boy from Bute is hot on your heels!!! While £70 for a year's royalties might not be a lot, it is £70 more than I expected, so I'm quite happy. Now all of you need to do your bit, and buy the book! I feel a challenge coming on! Let's see if you can make next year's royalty cheque bigger than £70... and to prove you have a copy of the book, take a photo of yourself with it! (It's worth a try!!!!). The other joyous event today was Scotland finally winning a rugby international: although I have to wonder what is it with the touch-judges who seem hell bent on denying Scotland tries. We had a perfectly good try disallowed in the France game three weeks ago - and it cost us the match. Today we had another one chopped off for a forward pass - as if the touch judge, who was well behind play, had a good view. My understanding of the rules is that the ball is allowed to be passed forward when this is caused by player momentum, and, of course, there is no foul when the ball is passed in a line. Still. Not as crucial this week. Now... if only Ireland can beat England, Liverpool can beat Chelsea and Celtic beat Clyde, then I will have had a perfect sporting weekend!

Officially sick!

2005-02-25T00:35:00.000Z

I shuffled down the early-morning sleet strewn pavements of north Dundee. I had to be at a certain place at a certain time. My mission was important. My destination: so close, yet a painful world away from me, and on the other side of a busy road. In my current state, there was no chance of me taking advantage of any gaps in the rush hour flow of vehicles. I had to find a lollipop man or a lollipop woman: they have the authority to stop the traffic to allow children to cross in safety. But how would they react to a middle-aged, stooping man with a walking stick? I didn't want to risk their refusal to assist, and there were many Burberry cap wearing teenagers - late for school - milling about, snowballs at the ready to catch their victims unawares. Liam finally told us that the reason for his general demeanour last night was school related: some Third Years were grabbing First Years and rubbing snow on their faces and up their shirts and down their backs. Liam was one of their victims at the morning break. He spent the whole day in cold, wet clothes, and had to walk home from school through the slush. He got home, reluctantly went to his guitar lesson, then went to bed very early, feeling unwell. He hadn't done his homework, and didn't want to go to school because he would get three punishment exercises for his pains. I reported this to the school, with the First Year co-ordinator assuring me that, in the circumstances, Liam would not be punished, and that the Third Years would be warned that what they are doing, whilst not bullying because they are not picking on a particular person (Liam was just in the wrong place at the wrong time), is not far off it, and will not be tolerated. The Co-ordinator said she would speak to Liam about this - so that's me in trouble when he comes home. Anyway, I decided not to use the lollipop person, and crossed the road myself - a minor triumph. I entered the doctor's surgery. He examined me (again), told me to increase my Gabapentin intake to 1800mg a day, gave me a sick line to take to the Department of Work and Pensions (how Orwellian a name for a government ministry can you get!) - for what purpose I do not know, since I am self-employed, and then hit me with the big one. I have a slipped disk, and am to be referred to the hospital - although I have to wait another two weeks because the neurosurgeons only take referrals after six weeks of GP treatment. All very well, but I'll probably have to wait six months for an appointment with the consultant. Not looking too good at the moment. Nevermind, now that I have a sick line, I have returned to work: working through the pain to ensure that the book and journal are both published on time (and to make sure that my bank manager remains content with me).

Back to work

Lost in the supermarket

2005-02-24T00:34:00.000Z

Just thought that I'd throw in a bit of colour for a bit of a change. Practicing with a variation on the pseudo-lomo tecnique that I had some fun with way back in August, only this time I've altered the colours rather than just make them more vibrant, and I resisted the temptation to add any motion blur. I kind of like it, and, let's be honest, it is a break from all that black and white I have been doing. A word of warning, though, the black and white kick is still not out of my system, and I will be returning to it - perhaps even as early as tomorrow - who knows? I'll see how I feel. Another day of false dawn on the trapped nerve front. This morning I was feeling okay, and I even managed to put the wheelie bin out (although I did slip and get covered in snow) and make breakfast for everyone. The respite was short lived, however, and I was soon back to my old self: doubled up and shuffling. It was so bad today that an 80 year old woman sprinted past me on my way to the supermarket. Try as I might, I just couldn't keep up with her sprightly pace, and she was soon a speck in the distance. I got some pictures printed out today at a commercial printer. Why do they say they print 7x5" and 10x8" when it is quite clear that they don't. I set up a number of images to the required sizes and at the optimum resolution in Photoshop. The prints I got back were all cropped smaller than the advertised sizes (and the sizes I had created the images at). The girl on the counter told me that the machines always crop smaller, although she couldn't tell me why. Now I need to remember to make an allowance for the machine... rather than just accepting that the machine will do exactly what it is asked to do. I mean, I did all the hard work for it - all it needed to do was print the bleedin' pictures. Still, apart from the poor cropping, which was only critical in a couple of pictures, the prints were of an excellent quality. I just wish they did matte as well: then I would use them all the time.

Mizzie

2005-02-23T00:32:00.000Z

The snow that fell overnight and all through the day, took all of the highway authorities by complete surprise, despite it being forecast since Sunday. The local radio was telling us of school closures across the length and breadth of the east of the country. Liam listened attentively, hoping that his was one of them. Alas, it wasn't, but I took one look out of the window and saw the blizzard dropping more snow on the ungritted main road as vans and cars slid into the kerb and told Liam that he was staying at home. He pretended he was disappointed, but he didn't take much persuading. Mizzie ran out the back door and down the steps, straight into two inches of snow, before stopping to sniff the ground, shake the cold stuff off of her paws and running straight back up the stairs to hold vigil on the top of the tumble dryer. Gavin phoned me to see if I was up to going out taking photos of the snow with him. I wish I was, but I'm not. So, instead, I arranged to meet him for a coffee in the Tesco cafe where we had a nice natter over this and that. By the time I had struggled back to the bus stop, the snow was falling heavier than ever. Got back to the house just in time to sit down with Liam and watch a DVD as my poor leg recovered from the strain. A good day, though, as I did manage to get out and actually meet another human being, and what better way to finish the cuddly animal series than with a real live cuddly animal!

Mizzie frolicking in the snow

João

2005-02-22T00:30:00.000Z

At last! I've caught up and am now completely, totally and definitively up to date with my photos. You'll be glad to know after yesterday's rant that I am not going to be saying much today. I will, however, introduce you all to João the Cão. So named because he was purchased in Portugal and, when Liam was much younger, I was instructed to take him to Portugal with me every time I had to travel there. He is a bit the worse for wear is this little globetrotting toy, for as well as having to share bag space with clothes and shoes, he has seen his fair share of the inside of washing machines. João is a diminutive fellow, and can quite easily fit inside a coat pocket. He was one of Liam's favourites because he accompanied me on my trips, so Liam could be with me by proxy. As for his name... well, we decided on João because it rhymes with cão. Cão is the Portuguese word for dog, which is what João is (or at least he is a representation of one). So that's it. You've now met all of Liam's old friends. Now I'll really have to think hard about what to photograph tomorrow!

Dino

2005-02-21T00:29:00.000Z

A shameful day for football in Britain, with cointhrowing and riots during and after the ManU v. Everton, Bradford v. Blackburn and, worst of all, as far as I'm concerned at least, at the Celtic v. Rangers game. There can never be any place for thugs at football, and the clubs and police must do all they can to find and punish the culprits. Of course, I have been more concerned with the events at Celtic Park. While I am relieved that there were no riots at or outside the ground, I was shocked to see coins and cigarette lighters being thrown at a Rangers player. Many Celtic fans are attempting to defend the hooligan behaviour by arguing that Rickson's actions (he applauded the Rangers fans whilst standing in front of the Celtic supporters) were inflammatory: the response was unacceptable and indefensible. Rickson can be an idiot at times, we all know that - we can all be idiots at times. He knew what he was doing, and perhaps he shouldn't have done it, but that is no excuse for physically assaulting him by throwing a cigarette lighter at him. The so-called Celtic supporters who threw the objects have done nothing but brought shame on the club they purport to support, and have blighted the good name of a set of fans who, only two years ago, won both the UEFA and FIFA awards for best behaved supporters. Someone knows the responsible parties: for the sake of Celtic Football Club and its supporters they should give their names to the police. There can never be any place in sport for thuggery and hooliganism: it is only a game, after all. Anyway, rant over, I would like to introduce you to Dino the dog. Dino is a huge (and I mean huge) soft, extremely floppy and gentle soul. When Liam was smaller he used to lie on top of Dino while he was watching the cartoons on telly. Later, Dino became Liam's wrestling partner. Our previous cat, Muzzy (we are nothing if not original when naming animals), used to sleep on top of him. Now Dino spends his time as Liam's PlayStation footstool. Later you will meet the last of Liam's reprieved friends, when I introduce you to the diminutive João (pron. Zho-a-ow).

Hamish

2005-02-20T00:28:00.000Z

I'm getting there.... honest. Just give me a chance, and I will put up a photo for the day it was actually taken, and not the day before. Once again, I must apologise for putting up today's picture tomorrow, but I have been very, very busy crying into my coffee. Because I live in Scotland, I was unable to purchase the Old Firm derby on the pay-per-view channel. (Had I lived in England or Wales, I would have had no problem.) As I attempted, all I got was a message saying that "This broadcast is not available". Apparently, people in Scotland and Ireland have to subscribe to the SPL channel, which costs £13 per month, instead of being able to watch on a game-by-game basis. So, the upshot of the story is that I had to shuffle (quite literally) down to a smoke-filled pub to watch it there. The other clients, most of whom were there to watch the match too, were a mixed bag with Celtic and Rangers supporters sitting and standing next to each other enjoying the banter and the game. A Rangers fan, who knew I support Celtic, even gave me his seat when he saw me with the walking stick. Good natured bantering aside, I am upset because Celtic spurned umpteen chances to score (the Rangers 'keeper had an excellent game, it has to be said), and ended up losing 0-2. With this defeat, our chances of holding on to the League title are all but gone, because the last Old Firm game of the season is at Ibrox (home to Rangers), they have a much better goal difference, and they are currently three points in front of us (although we do have a game in hand). So... it seems quite appropriate to introduce you to Hamish. Hamish, as you can see, is a teddy bear. If you are a follower of Scottish football, you will appreciate the connection. Hamish was a Christening gift to Liam from his Gran, Cathie. He has always been one of Liam's favourites, although I can't say that he is one of mine... he is just too.... smug-looking, straight laced and hard-stuffed for my liking. Tomorrow it is time to meet Dino.

Alfie

2005-02-19T00:28:00.000Z

Still trying to catch up! I might even manage it one of these days. After a miserably painful day today (Saturday), I am feeling slightly better tomorrow (Sunday), although I do still have a dull aching sensation down the front of my left shin, numb toes and a sharp pain just below and to the left of my coxix (I think that's what it's called). Enough about me, though. I suspect that you are all here today to meet Alfie the Ape. This was another of Liam's young childhood favourites, mainly because he has very, very long arms, and can hang from the door and play the guitar. Liam used to like putting Alfie's arms around his neck and cuddle him. Now he is more often to be found under the bed, or being peddalled on by Mizzie. I must admit that Alfie is probably my favourite, and that I am always glad when Liam stops us from putting him in the black bag. Hamish will be tomorrow's guest.

Bobby

2005-02-18T00:27:00.000Z

Ooops! A day behind again. This photo is for yesterday. It breaks all the PaD 'rules', since I didn't take it yesterday; however, I did think about it, so that's okay... isn't it? No matter. It's here, and I'm counting it for yesterday, and there is nothing anyone can do about it. So there. Flame me if you want, but remember that I have a very, very sore leg and that I am practically immobile (says he shamelessly playing up his current severe pain :D). Take pity on me and say hello to Bobby the Bear. I bought Bobby for Liam's first Christmas (away back in 1992), and he quickly became his favourite cuddly toy. They were inseparable, and Liam wouldn't sleep if Bobby wasn't there with him. Now, of course, Bobby has been forgotten, and relegated to the bottom of the wardrobe, underneath the old bags, shoes and toys. He has not been abandoned, though, because when we have our annual pre-Christmas clearouts, Bobby (along with some other cuddly toys) always seems to get a reprieve from the black bag. I intend to introduce you to some of Liam's other 'friends' (as he used to call them). Tomorrow is Alfie's turn.

Tourist board X-files

2005-02-17T00:26:00.000Z

I don't want to speak too soon, but I think that either: a) my leg is starting to get better; or b) the drugs are starting to take effect. I hope it is the former, but I suspect that it is the latter. Never mind! What's a sore leg to someone who is being bombarded with tributes! As if the dedications from Bruce, Antonio and Gilles were not already more than I could reasonably have expected (and much more than I deserve), along comes Autumn Sky, aka LC, with an outstanding photographic dedication to me. Above and beyond the call of duty he went, by actually lying down on a railway track to get the desired image. A superb photograph achieved at risk of life and limb - these trains travel very fast, and you don't hear them until they are on top of you (as I found out to my terror as I rather stupidly tried to run across the West Coast Main Line several years ago). A great big thank you to you LC: the photograph is excellent, and the thought behind it was extremely touching. In fact, I must say a great big thanks to all of you: because I am too 'medicated' to concentrate on work, I have found that photography - both yours and mine - is what has been keeping me sane these past few weeks. Your comments, concern and, yes, your tributes, have all helped me through this trying time. I just want you all to know that it is much appreciated. As a reward, I am going to let you into a huge secret. This is something that the Scottish Executive and the Scottish Tourist Board have been trying to keep under wraps for several years, because they believe the enigma is what keeps the well-heeled tourists coming. Nessie (the Loch Ness monster) exists - and she's made out of blutak. Mum's the word. You didn't hear it from me: I'll deny it.

Sticking to the Moon

2005-02-16T00:25:00.000Z

Nothing much to report today, since I haven't been able to get up to too much. Two things achieved: I washed the breakfast dishes, then, with the help of my downstairs neighbour, I managed to get some of the washing hung out to dry. Apart from that I have spent the day lying on my back, doped to the eyes on the pills that the doctor has given me, trying to concentrate on reading and, having given that up as a non-starter, watching a couple of episodes of Band of Brothers. Many of you will be pleased to know that I ran into a couple of blutakbeasts this afternoon. They had recently been watching the film Apollo 13, and it reminded them of their own space programme back in the 1960s. Apparently their first successful Moon landing took place on 1 July 1969, which means that they just beat the Americans to it by a couple of weeks. Their own space missions were apparently so hush-hush that they were willing to allow NASA to take all the plaudits. They explained that they were in a bit of a sticky situation at the time, and that they were desperate to obtain new poster material since they were sick and tired of holding up the millions of Che, Jimi Hendrix, CND, Richard Nixon, and French existentialist slogan posters. Their leader at the time, President Stig E. Bakplastique, decided that what was needed was an image of the planet Earth from about 250,000 miles away. Tireless and indefatigable efforts (excuse the tautology - I did it for effect) were made in a no-expense spared push to glue old Fairy Liquid bottles and pipecleaners together to make a spacecraft capable of taking the brave Stickonauts on their historic journey. At first I thought that they were pulling my leg, but then they showed me the photograph of Nieds Stuckon, the first blutakbeast on the Moon, actually on the Moon. And as we all know, the camera doesn't lie. Does it.

Prisoner

2005-02-15T00:24:00.000Z

Two wonderful things have happened to me today. The first surprise came with the postman, who brought with him a package all the way from Montreal in Canada. When I say it was a surprise, I am exaggerating slightly, because I have been expecting it for a while. Still, whether expected or not, it was a nice thing to receive. Let me explain. A couple of months ago, an exceptionally talented Luso-Canadian photographer, Antonio Pierre de Ameida, dedicated a photograph to me. I was really taken aback: firstly because it is quite a tribute to receive recognition from such an exceptionally gifted photographer; and secondly because the photograph that he dedicated to me is an outstandingly good example of reportage photography (which is my preferred type of photography). I loved the photo and the dedication so much that I asked Antonio for a print, which I have now received, and which will shortly be hanging on my photo wall in the living-room. Thank you very much Antonio. The second surprise came when I was browsing through my favourite Pbase photographers' latest updates. I got to Gilles Navet's page - another wonderfully talented photographer - and discovered that he has dedicated his daily photograph to me; moreover, he has even emulated 'my style' (I didn't think I had such a thing!!!). This is an awesome tribute, and I am lost for words. To have photographs dedicated to me by photographers as talented as Antonio Pierre de Almeida and Gilles Navet is some tribute indeed, for in my opinion, they are up there amongst the best on Pbase. I am completely overawed by it all. Thank you. After all this excitement, I decided that I wanted to get out the house for a walk. I have been a prisoner in here since I came back from Portugal a fortnight ago. The neural inhibitors don't seem to be working, but I had to get out despite the pain. I thought that I would head up to the supermarket to buy a frame for the print Antonio sent me. I didn't try to walk this time, but took the bus. In itself, this got me down, because by the time I made it to the bus stop, which is only 50 yards from my front door, I knew that there was no way I would be able to walk any further. I feel like a prisoner with an indeterminate sentence hanging over my head. I just wish that this pain would go away and let me lead a normal life again.

This one's for Linda

2005-02-14T00:22:00.000Z

Linda and I met at a difficult time for both of us. Our families and friends said it would never last. We've had our ups and downs over the years, and have gone through some very difficult times. We have managed to survive them, and here we are, 14 years on, still together, and still very much in love. This one's for you. Despite all the heartache I've put you through in the past, will you be my Valentine?

My luve is like a red, red rose
O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my luve is like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho it were ten thousand mile!

(Robert Burns, 1794)

We used to work so well together!

2005-02-13T00:21:00.000Z

I had a pleasant surprise this morning when I received a phone call from Mr Northstar telling me that he, being the romantic bugga that he is, had brought Mrs Northstar to stay in a hotel in Dundee for a Valentine's treat. They dropped in for a cup of tea and a chat, and we blethered about the state of the NHS, amongst other things. Mrs Northy, who is studying some oriental healing technique called Riki (I'm not sure about the spelling, and I thought that maybe it had something to do with Edinburgh) tried to help alleviate my pain. I must admit that I did feel the heat from her hands, and that it did provide some relief, as I was able to sit relatively comfortably the whole time they were here. Anyway, they had to make the treacherous trip up the A93 to their abode in snowbound Inverurie to relieve Mrs Northy's mother of babysitting duties. After they had left I settled down to watch the rugby. The day just kept getting better and better as France beat England by a point. This means that England are, at least for now, just as piss poor as Scotland. I'm sure it won't last though (but it is nice while it does!). A relatively pedestrian and uninspiring French team has now managed to beat both Scotland and England - but my money is riding on Ireland to win the 6 Nations this year, and for Italy to wrest the Wooden Spoon from Scotland (please, please, please). The picture was taken at Heathrow Airport a couple of weeks ago, with the post-processing done today. As you will know, Concorde was a joint British and French project.

Friend of the Festival

2005-02-12T00:20:00.000Z

This image was inspired by one that Gavin took last week of Glasgow's Science Centre and the affectionately named Armadillo Conference Centre. As most of you will know, I lived in Glasgow for many years, and consider it to be my home city. It is where I bought my first house, married and divorced my first wife, where I had my first job, where I attended university, where I met Linda, where Liam was born and where my favourite football team hail from. Quite simply, although I was born down south and brought up on Bute, I consider myself to be a Glaswegian. I love the place, and I miss it terribly. So, when I saw Gavin's image, it took me back to 1988 and the Garden Festival, which was one of the high points in the redevelopment of the city and its 'cultural rennaisance'. Throughout the 1980s, Glasgow District Council put a lot of effort into reinventing the city. The sandstone buildings were sandblasted clean, stripping away a century of pollution. Buildings that once were black were transformed - none more so than the Glasgow Central Station Hotel, which emerged from behind the protective plastic sheeting and scaffolding as a beautiful blond sandstone building. The city was completely renewed as one architectural gem after another emerged from under layers of soot. More than this, however, the streets that seemed so dark and menacing became bright and welcoming. Along with this, the Council gave grants to the owners of tenements to repair and clean their properties. For ten years, Glasgow was wrapped in scaffolding. The Council's campaign 'Glasgow's miles better' was an international success. Derelict land, such as the Queen's Dock (Anderston) and Prince's Dock (Govan), was completely redeveloped with the construction of the Scottish Exhibition and Conference Centre (SECC), which attracted international hotels to the centre of the city, then came the Bell's Bridge (the first bridge erected over the Clyde at Glasgow in 120 years) linking the SECC with the newly constructed Garden Festival site in 1988. I was proud to be a Friend of the Garden Festival, with a season ticket that gave me unlimited access, although I only went twice! Success followed success, and in 1990, Glasgow became European City of Culture, followed in 1999 as European City of Architecture. The opening of the rebuilt Royal Concert Hall in the early 1990s (just before I moved to Dundee) marked a high point in the reinvention of the city, as Glasgow - the industrial centre of Scotland, and much to the annoyance of Edinburgh (we like to annoy Edinburgh!) - became home to Scottish Opera, the Royal Scottish National Orchestra and Scottish Ballet. One day I would like to move back to Glasgow.

The culprit or the victim?

2005-02-11T00:19:00.000Z

Third doctor's opinion obtained today. The only doctor who thought to press a needle on the sole of my foot. I didn't feel it. It's the sciatic nerve that has been 'banged', and it will take a few weeks to right itself. The muscle relaxants are no good, apparently. I've been given a neural inhibitor that will, I am told, stop the pain signals going to my brain while the nerve calms down. God speed the day that the drugs begin to take effect. In the meantime (tomorrow, that is), I'm going to listen to Hibs (hopefully) beat Rangers at the footie before watching Scotland (hopefully) beat Ireland at the rugby.

High, isn't it!

2005-02-10T00:18:00.000Z

Okay, that's me up to date. I hate the thought of missing a day, and I hate it when it actually happens. So, please bear with me as I try to keep things in the right order. Gavin phoned this morning to see how I was getting on and to let me know that the D70 has just come down in price at Jessops. As soon as my overdue paycheck has paid off the credit card bill, I will be the proud owner of the beast. Anyway, the pain has somehow managed to find its way down into my leg now. Sitting is not a pleasant experience (nor is standing or lying down, come to think of it). I got a second medical opinion, which just confirmed the first (surprise, surprise - as if one doctor is going to contradict another doctor in the same surgery). Short of going to casualty, there is little else that can be done - although I think that I will take a chance on the chiropractor. So, still on the medication, and still running into these little critters crawling over my office stapler. When told what it's function was, they just laughed and insisted that it would never catch on.

Diamond geezers these Spurs supporters!

2005-02-09T00:14:00.000Z

Still suffering and feeling awfully sorry for myself until the postman arrived. Amongst the bills and junk mail was a huge cardboard envelope. It was like Christmas. I opened the package and pulled out the contents: a beautiful calendar by our very own Linda Alstead. Certainly brightened up my morning, and briefly took my mind off of my pain. Now the calendar is hanging proudly in our kitchen. Thank you Linda! See. I can be concise - even if I am a day late. (Especially when I'm a day late!)

Stickilles at the Seige of Gloy

2005-02-08T00:13:00.000Z

Being forced to take powerful anti-inflammatories and painkillers, such as valium and codeine, I find myself unable to do much work. Between the pain and drowsiness, I seem to have entered a twilight zone inhabited by strange blue creatures that have an unfathomable love of attaching things to other things. These blutakbeasts, as I have come to call them, are afraid of physical contact with one another, because they tend to meld together and separating them is a very, very messy business. Over the past couple of days I have got to know and like these little critters. Once they found out that I am a historian, they seemed eager to tell me all about their past. Today I was regaled with tales of blutakbeast heroism and bravery during the days of Ancient Grease. It was for them a difficult time, because grease is deadly to them, stripping them of all of their adhesive strength. Their greatest hero of these ancient days was a formidable warrior called Stickilles, whose greatest fame was gained during the Prittstik Wars fighting for King Aroldite at the Seige of Gloy, a fortified city on the shores of the Bostik Sea. Unfortunately, although the forces of adhesion won the battle, Stickilles died after slipping on a sheet of greaseproof paper. This is just getting silly now.

A sticky end

2005-02-07T00:12:00.000Z

Once again I would like to thank you all for your words of sympathy and empathy with my current plight, and for all the encouragement and concern that many of you have expressed. I struggle on in the certain knowledge that my discomfort, painful and debilitating as it may be, is temporary, and for that I am truly thankful, for I am only too aware that there are others who have more serious ailments, who are in greater pain and who have no certainty of relief, either for themselves or their loved ones (one who springs instantly to mind is the ever optimistic and cheerful Petesie, whose courage and stoicism I truly admire). So, enough of this self-pitying. I did manage to get some work done today, and I helped Dave (the handyman) when he came to replace the few slates that had fallen off of the roof during the recent storms. (When I say I helped him, what I actually did was stand on the bottom rung of his ladder while he climbed up on to the roof.) Brilliant man that he is, he was here for over three hours cleaning windows, clearing gutters, nailing down flashing, replacing the putty on a leaking skylight and, of course, fitting the new slates, and he only asked for £40. Diamond geezer, as the London wide-boys say. Talking about poor unfortunates and diamond geezers, I came across this group of blutakbeasts trying to help one of their own who rather stupidly believed that it could stick this pebble to a vertical surface.

Taking the fans for granted

2005-02-06T00:12:00.000Z

I seem to have been overrun by Blutakbeasts. Whilst they may be pretty gruesome to look at, they are actually harmless; harmless, that is, unless you have a spare wall and things lying around to be stuck on it. If so, then these little creatures will become the very bane of your existence, and heaven forbid that one should fail to adhere properly, for then the chances are that it will fall to the floor and be trodden into the carpet. Nothing, short of an industrial carpet cleaner, will remove its crushed remains from the shag pile. Then, of course, there are the greasy marks that they leave on painted walls... Come to think of it, they are frightening little beggars after all (although perhaps not as horrific as their arch-enemy, the Drawing Pinwolf). I think I have the critters under control, and even if I hadn't I wasn't going to miss the Dunfermline v. Celtic game on the telly. Now, as you all know, I have somehow done my back in, and I have been given so many different pills that if I jump I rattle. I have been prescribed valium and paracetamol for the pain, and diclofenac and codeine for the inflammation. A side affect of all this medication is drowsiness (I must not drive or operate machinery, so I am warned). No need for the drugs this afternoon... watching today's game would put anyone to sleep it was so dire. Of course, the game as a spectacle wasn't helped by the fact that Celtic were 2-0 up within the first 10 minutes: from then on it was little more than a training match for them. As you know, I am a Celtic supporter, and there is nothing I like better (sportswise) than to see Celtic winning... I just wish the players would remember that they receive extremely handsome wages (most of the players in the Celtic first team earn more in one week than most people earn in a year) to provide entertainment to the paying customer. All too often I think they forget that. They certainly did today. I really feel sorry for the fans who travelled all the way to Dunfermline and paid to see that poor excuse for a game, because I honestly think that once the second goal had gone in, the players just couldn't be bothered, and that is an insult to the paying supporter who, in the final analysis, pays their huge wages. I really felt like shaking my walking stick at them :D

Sometimes it's shite being Scottish....

2005-02-05T00:11:00.000Z

I've fallen a day behind again. The stresses and strains of being practically unable to do anything, whilst having to go to the bank to get the finances sorted out for our new driveway and porch. I managed to walk down the stairs and round the corner, then Linda had to get the car. She remembered that her mum had a walking stick, so I am now borrowing it. Even with the stick, walking is excruciatingly painful. Nevertheless, I managed to limp my way to the bank while Linda parked the car. A couple of old age pensioners barged past me as I slowly manoeuvred my way into the bank. I did notice that rather than make allowances for you when you are obviously having trouble walking, people tend to get very impatient. I had to shout at one elderly woman, who really should have known better, to let her know that I was in extreme discomfort, that every step was painful and that that was the reason I was walking so slowly and with a stick. Not everyone was as rude and unsympathetic, however; a young couple with a baby in a pushchair went out of their way to help me through the crowd in the bank and into a seat. Apart from that there were no other problems, except the atrocious refereeing at the France v. Scotland 6-Nations game. All you French supporters out there know fine well that you only won that game because of the officials... a perfectly good try disallowed and a player sent-off for deliberate offside when he was making no effort to play the ball and every effort to get out the way!!!! It's hard enough for Scotland to beat the other 6 Nations sides without having to put up with incompetent officials as well.

Norascore, man

2005-02-04T00:08:00.000Z

Okay, I know that I ain't no Ewan MacGregor, but, hey, I am Scottish... so at least we have that much in common. Not being able to get out and about as much as I would like (or even at all), I have been forced to look deep into myself for daily photos. This is something that has been in my mind for a while... well, okay, I only just thought about it if the truth be known. Clearly a rip-off, with no original thought whatsoever, it is my tribute to one of my favourite films. I'm sure you can guess which one it might be. I remember when this came out. I was living in Lisbon at the time, and there seemed to be a whole load of Scottish themed films that came out at roughly the same time: Braveheart, Rob Roy, Shallow Grave, and then this. Trainspotting was a wonderful tonic after the exciting, but historically inaccurate, Braveheart, and served to show my Portuguese friends that Scotland was a modern country with all the social problems that all modern countries have. I never missed an opportunity to see it again, and ended seeing it about nine times in various Lisbon cinemas. Luckily for me, the Portuguese don't dub films, they subtitle them, so I was able to catch all the humour that my Portuguese friends missed. Certainly takes me back.... but whatever happened to Ewan MacGregor (Renton)!?!

Oranges are not the only fruit...

2005-02-03T00:07:00.000Z

...but we'd run out of bananas (which isn't a fruit anyway, but never mind). The back is still stiff and sore, so I'm not going to bore you any more with it, except to say thank you for all of your concern, and that I am very open to a holiday in Southern California! I won't take a lot of arm-twisting!! Anyway, to show the new fighting and positive spirit, I have posted a bright picture that is full of Andalucian sunshine and vitamin C. It was delicious and juicy, and I enjoyed every bit of it. As I am effectively housebound for now, as well as being practically immobile, my options for daily photography are severely limited for the time-being. Perhaps this is the challenge that I need. Well everyone, thanks again for your concern. I know that there are many, many people worse off than I am, so I am not complaining... just being a little grumpy! (Well, I am Scottish, and we're supposed to be grumpy!). See you tomorrow :D

PS. Just got a nice phone call from Gavin wishing me well. Thanks Gav.

Craigowl Hill from the Kingsway

2005-02-02T00:06:00.000Z

I took the doctor's advice and decided to go for a walk today. I thought that I ought to keep it short and not too challenging, so I went to the retail park. That was my first mistake. I got no further than 500 yards than I had to stop and lean against a wall. The pain was practically unbearable. I was not going to let this beat me, so after a short pause, I set off again. After almost one hour I made it to the retail park (it usually only takes 15 minutes) in absolute agony. I went into the supermarket and sat down for an hour while reading the paper and drinking coffee, just trying to pluck up the courage for the walk home. I made my way, initially feeling not too bad, but no sooner was I in the car park than the excruciating pains began to shoot down my left leg and around my calf and shins. The small of my back and thighs were faring no better. I soldiered on to the petrol station, and decided that this could not possibly be doing me any good at all, so I hailed a taxi. I got back into the house, took the valium and diclofenac that the doctor prescribed, then went and lay down on the living room floor waiting for the drugs to kick in and take the pain away. Linda, who was a registered nurse in a previous existence, told me that I should keep movements to a minimum until the pain is under control, which won't be for a couple of days. Only then, she said, should I be thinking about going out for walks or doing the stretching exercises. So, day one of the recovery programme was a complete failure. Fingers crossed that tomorrow is a little better. In the meantime, I did manage to get out and take some photos. In response to requests from a couple of my regular readers (Coleen and Laine), and since I haven't quite got the mono trip out of my system yet, I have decided to create a new gallery: Colours of Scotland. You are more than welcome to head over there and leave comments. In the meantime, I return to my agony as the drugs begin to wear off.

Doctor's orders: walk 2 miles each day

2005-02-01T00:05:00.000Z

Thanks everyone for all of your concern and well wishes. I took the sensible course of action this morning, and made an appointment to see the doctor. The walk down to the surgery was excruciating, and all sorts of ailments were running through my head. I wondered what they need to do to fix a slipped disk, and whether I would have to go under the knife. The way I was feeling as I walked down the road, I would have been grateful if they operated there and then without aneasthetic. As it was, I managed to limp into the waiting room and sought to get myself into the least uncomfortable position possible while I waited to be called. Upon seeing me, and asking me to go through a few mobility exercises and a quick look at my spine, his considered opinion was that I have somehow managed to exacerbate the back problems I gained through my employment at BT all those years ago, and that my job, which involves an awful lot of sitting, is not helping my posture. In layman's terms, he explained that all the muscles are connected and that they all need stretched. He said that I did the right thing walking to the surgery, and that I must walk more, and follow the stretching exercises he gave me. In the meantime, he gave me ultra-strong painkillers to stop the muscle spasms. So, a two mile walk every day... doctor's orders! Even when I'm ill, I manage to come up smelling of roses! Thanks again everyone for your concern... The sun is out, the sky is blue... I'm going for a walk in Strathmartine!

Painful

2005-01-31T00:04:00.000Z

Today was a day of extreme discomfort for me. For over a year now I have been experiencing shooting pains starting from the small of my back and going all the way down the back of my left leg to my calf, and then round the shin to my foot. I have no idea what it is, but I think I can rule out back strain - I have suffered from that in the past, and this is a completely different pain. For one thing, this is constant, and no matter what I do - short of load myself up with painkillers and muscle relaxants - I just can't get rid of the pain.Sitting is an effort, walking for any distance is virtually impossible, and just forget about standing - it is just too painful. As I said, this pain has been coming and going for the past year, and hardly a day has gone by when I haven't experienced it, but today has been by far the worst so far. I think I am going to have to go to the doctor to get it seen to, because I just can't go on like this. So, today I have a picture that reflects the way I feel. In fact, it serves a double purpose. You see, some of the pictures I uploaded recently ended up being pixelated by the Pbase machinery (unintentionally, I hasten to add). By putting this picture up, I am saving the machines the bother of pixelating. Right, I'm away to take some Diclofenac and gain brief respite.

I'm super content: I just like moaning!

2005-01-30T00:02:00.000Z

Nothing much to report. I have spent most of the day processing and uploading the photos that I took whilst in Portugal last week. I took a lot, and it is taking some time. So today, I have been in Portugal in my mind, if not in body. I've begun to notice that I am developing a love-hate relationship with that particular country. When I'm there, it doesn't take long before I wish I was back in Scotland. On the other hand, while I'm in Scotland, I often think to myself how lucky I am to be able to head off to Portugal so often. I see my friends working in Dundee day in, day out, looking forward to their fortnight holiday, then I am glad that that is not me. Then again, while I'm over there, I often find myself wishing that I had a nice office job in Dundee! Fickle, or what. When it all boils down to it, I am blissfully happy... I just like complaining! I have a wonderful family, a nice house, I am my own boss, I am not badly paid doing what I want to do, I get to spend a lot of time in one of Europe's most beautiful cities. Yup. No matter how much I might gripe about things, deep down I know that I wouldn't change it for anything.

Voando sobre São Martinho

2005-01-29T00:00:00.000Z

On Friday night, I was supposed to go up to Chapitó with Sílvia, Alexandre, Claudia, Miguel and many others to celebrate Sílvia's new job (at Chapitó) at an 80s theme night. The arrangement was to meet up at 11pm, then take it from there. My mind was willing, but my body gave out on me. I was tired after a whole day of pointless meetings, then when I got back to the flat decided that I wanted to get some pictures of the Águas Livres acqueduct before it got too dark. My next port of call was to Alcântara's very own unofficial Benfica supporters club restaurant, where the staff, who are all Benfiquistas, are aware that my support of Celtic means that I have a perhaps irrational preference for Sporting (só por causa das suas camisas, pois). So some gently ribbing took place as they reminded me of the result of Wednesday's Lisbon derby (3-3 after extra time, Benfica winning 10-9 on penalties in what was, surprisingly for Portuguese club competition, an excellent game of football). Following my meal I went back to the flat and thought that I could lie down for an hour or so before heading over to Chapitó. I was vaguely aware of my mobile ringing at around 11.30... at 1.30am I got up and switched it off. I had a 9am flight, and I'm no longer able to stay up all night and go straight to the airport from the pub. I'm too old for that nowadays! So, Sílvia, Alexandre, Claudia and Miguel... I'm sorry I missed you all, but you know I'll be back in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, Sílvia, parabéns no teu novo trabalho, e desejo-te toda a sorte no mundo. The photograph is for Pedro Libório. I didn't have time to get up to São Martinho to visit him this time, but I did manage to pass overhead!

Vou me embora

2005-01-28T23:59:00.000Z

Friday, and thoughts are now turning to the journey home tomorrow. Today was a bit of a wasted day, as the long awaited meeting resolved nothing, since the only two people with the authority to make decisions decided not to bother coming. Perhaps I shouldn't have bothered either. Anyway, I suppose this is the way things work in Portugal... they just kind of rumble along until they hit a problem, then they stop until someone notices and decides to ask someone else to do something about it. The afternoon meeting was little better, as the person who has been causing us all sorts of heartache decided that, rather than just respond to the questions asked, they would much prefer to make a drama out of nothing at all. It was all I could do not to ask this person why they feel that my time and money is worth wasting just so that they can complain about having to make sure that the references to their article are complete and accurate, and why, when asked if they had actually read the publication guidelines before insisting on having this pointless meeting, they admitted that they hadn't. If it were up to me, I know where I would tell this person to stick their article. Unfortunately, however, it is not up to me. I can't wait to get back home.

Viva a carnaval!

2005-01-27T23:58:00.000Z

I haven't really been giving myself much time these past few days. This is because I have been going to the library first thing in the morning, and staying there until it closes at 7.30pm. I don't really mind, because I am actually enjoying the research I am doing and the books I am reading. In order to get as much research as possible done while I am here, I have been limiting myself to a 45 minute lunchbreak. This gives me just enough time to have a light lunch then a walk in the vicinity of the library before going back to hit the books again. Another consequence of my dedication to my work is a lack of time during which to look through the other galleries and leave my usual pithy remarks. It also means that I haven't really had enough time to upload all of the photos I have taken while I have been in Lisboa: fear not though fellow Padders and Paddettes, once I am back in Dundee, I will catch up on both fronts. In the meantime, leave me to think about Sidónio Pais; to consider whether these dresses are made of either paper or tobacco; and to wonder whatever happened to the sub-zero temperatures that we were promised by all the Portuguese newspapers earlier this week.

A mulher ideal dos tempos fascistas

2005-01-26T23:56:00.000Z

This is one of the statues that adorns the front of the National Library in Lisbon. This, apparently, was the Salazar regime's idea of what the perfect Portuguese woman should look like. Knowing a little about the Salazar regime's attitude towards women in general, I was initially confused about the signal this image was giving. Salazar, who was, apparently, a bit of a lady's man, never married, and from the minute he took control of Portugal's destiny in 1928 to the day he died in 1970, he shared a house with his housemaid - the indomitable Maria - he even went so far as to adopt her orphaned nephew and niece, raising them as his own. Inevitably there were rumours that Maria was more than just his maid. Following his stroke in 1968, the bedridden Salazar was protected by Maria, who decided who was allowed to visit and for how long. It is unclear if she too was kept in the dark about Salazar's status as ex-leader (the political elite were too afraid to tell him that he had been replaced, and apparently he died in 1970 believing he was still in charge). Another of Salazar's apparent conquests was the French journalist, Christine Garnier, who stayed with him at his official residence whilst writing a book about him (called Férias com Salazar - Holidays with Salazar). It is clear that Salazar did enjoy female company, although not enough to trust them with the vote. You see, under Salazarism, Portuguese women were supposed to marry young, stay at home, have babies, look after the children and their husbands and keep the house clean. Now, take another look at the statue, and see the exaggerated child-bearing hips. Now compare the fascist-era statue with the more recent one! I know which I prefer!

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face

2005-01-25T23:55:00.000Z

Burns' Night has arrived at last: a full calender month after Christmas and a few days before the beginning of February. The pain involved in carrying two large turnips, a very large haggis and a litre bottle of Macallan's 12 year-old malt with me was finally worth it. The turnips had to be brought because the ones we are used to in Scotland bear absolutely no relation to the ones that pass for turnips over here. For one thing, ours are large, orange and sweet; theirs are small, pink and bitter. The assembled company included me, the token Scot and Master of Ceremonies, five Portuguese, a Spaniard and one Dane. Only three of us had ever tasted haggis before and five said that they didn't like the sound of it. All eight enjoyed it, and said they will certainly give it a go again. The big hit, however, apart from the Macallan, was Green Grow the Rashes, O, to which everyone joined in the chorus. All in all, a very enjoyable evening was had.

Vai ficar um bocadinho fresco...

2005-01-24T23:54:00.000Z

Yet another late one, and if you care enough to examine the EXIF, you will see that I actually took it tomorrow, and not today. There is a very simple reason for this: no time and no ready access to internet. In other words: I spent the whole day, from 10am to 7.30pm in the National Library reading about Sidonio Pais. By the time I got out it was dark and I was tired. And by the time I got back to the flat, it was all I could do to catch up on Sunday's image. So, still a day behind and cheating to catch up... what will you do with me? To the tale, however. Apparently it is going to get cold here (by normal Portuguese standards, that is: it will remain positively balmy to those, like me, who are accustomed to more brass monkey weather). I must say that I have noticed the chill in the morning air, and am keen to add that I find it a pleasant change from the normal Lisbon January weather: which is either warm and humid or warm and positively wet. I remember my first Lisbon winter, way back in 1995. During the last week of November, the council workmen were putting up the Christmas decorations wearing little more than shorts and sweat; a couple of days later it started to rain, and didn't stop until March, when it got hot again. Winter 1996 was much the same. I came over for three weeks in January 2003, and arrived during a very cold snap - it was actually warmer in Dundee than in Lisbon. The first week I was over was bitterly cold (remember the houses are designed for summer - no central heating, no carpets, no double glazing), and all of the shops had run out of heaters, warm clothes and blankets. It got so bad that the electricity company couldn't keep up with demand, and, consequently, there were power outages all over Lisbon. The second week could not have been more different: this time the cold was replaced by wet as the heavens opened and deposited all the water in creation on Lisbon. The city came to a standstill as the Terreiro do Paco flooded. At least one building in the Alfama collapsed as its foundations gave way to the liquified soil it stood on. The entire facade of the building collapsed on top of a parked car, while the building's occupants watched television in their remodelled living-room. The weather madness continued in week three, when the rain gave way to the sun. By Burns' Night (25 Jan), the mercury had topped 27ºC. By the end of the month, the record books had been rewritten, with it being the coldest, wettest and hottest January in Lisbon since records began. And I was there to experience it.

Sempre a subir!

2005-01-23T23:53:00.000Z

First of all, let me apologise for this late posting. I have had a lot of trouble getting access to an internet linked computer. Normally I am able to use Charles's, and then there is always the one in my office; however, Charles has lots of work on, and is hogging his machine, while, for some reason, the internet wasn't working at my office. Anyway... that's today's story, which will have to wait because this image is for yesterday (Sunday). I can proudly announce that I was up and out the door before 10am. I was on the Sintra train by 11am, and I was in Sintra by lunchtime. Straight off the train, I walked round to the Palácio Nacional before heading straight up to the Castelo dos Mouros. It was one helluva climb, let me tell you: although it is not much higher than the summit of Auchterhouse, it is very much steeper. Still, it was worth it, for not only did I burn a few calories, I was rewarded with a stupendous view. This is not the first time I have been to the Castelo dos Mouros. I was there in 1994, when I was very much fitter than I am now - back in those days, Portugal was still 'quaint', and there was no visitor centre, and no entrance fee (there was also no cold drink machine). I can't really recall, but I'm sure there was no tourist bus either - but I may be wrong: I walked up. I spent a wonderful three hours in the castle, and took lots and lots of photographs (which I will post when I get back to Dundee). The descent was much harder than the climb - just ask my poor knees. I made it all the way down in one piece, and stopped in a small restaurant for a late-lunch/early-supper of bacalhau com natas. Duly fed and watered, I headed off for a stroll through two of Sintra's many public gardens, before getting on the train back to Lisbon. It was a pleasant day, which would have been perfect had Linda and Liam been here to share it with me. Ah well, maybe the next time!

Bem vindos a Portugal!

2005-01-22T23:51:00.000Z

Arriving in Lisbon has become a bit of a routine for me. I get off the plane, make my way out of the passport control, baggage hall and customs into the arrivals foyer. From there I walk down to the bus stop and wait for the number 45 that will take me to Cais do Sodre, from where I catch a tram to Alcantara. On a good day, the entire journey - from leaving the plane to throwing myself on my bed - takes around an hour and is almost always without incident. I say almost always, because last night's journey was with incident. Everything was going as normal: I got to the bus stop and killed the few minutes waiting for the #45 by taking a few shots of the airport building. The bus came and I got on. So far, so good. With only four passengers, including myself, the bus was fairly quiet for 9pm on a Saturday night. No matter, I thought, fewer passengers means quicker journey, so I settled down and watched Lisbon pass by. We got to Entrecampos, when a boy of about 19 arrived breathless at the bus stop, and yelled at the driver to go. In his mirror, the driver could obviously see someone else running to catch the bus, and must have assumed that it was the teenager's friend, so he waited. The teenager pleaded with him to close the doors and drive: the driver insisted on waiting. The second teenager jumped on and the first teenager made for the back of the bus, running backwards with his hands in front of him like a shield, calling on the driver to open the doors and let him off. All of a sudden, the second teenager launches a large stone, the intended target of which was, presumably, the first teenager. Unfortunately, his aim was poor, and the stone headed straight towards my knee. Unable to move because of the bags I was carrying, I was spared injury by the glass screen in front of the seat. The safety glass shattered into thousands of pieces as I sat looking at the destruction at my feet. Slowly, incredulity at what had just happened turned into bemusement. I stood up, brushed the broken glass off of me and my bags, and moved to a different seat. The stone thrower had gone, chased by his intended victim: the driver got out of his cabin and surveyed the damage, while the middle aged couple behind me asked if I was okay. This seemed to spark the driver into action, and he asked me if I was hurt. When I told everyone I was uninjured, the couple told me that this was the first time they had used the buses, and they had only done so because their son had assured them that it was perfectly safe. In the meantime, the driver removed what was left of the glass screen, and returned to his chair to radio the police. By this time, the first teenager had returned, breathless (having chased his would be attacker), and asked me if I was okay. I just said that I was fine, and that this was some welcome to Portugal. The bus drove off without further incident, although newly boarding passengers did wonder why there was broken glass everywhere. I got back to the flat at 10pm, safe and sound.

(PS. I must add that I have been a regular user of Lisbon's public transport system for the past ten years, and that I have been on buses, trains, trams and the Metro at all hours of the day and night. This is the first time anything like this has ever happened to me, and I have never heard any of my friends or colleagues say anything bad. The Lisbon public transport system is generally excellent: it is cheap, clean and (usually) safe. Unfortunately, there are nutters everywhere, and things like this are bound to happen now and again in city of Lisbon's size.)

Have haggis, will travel

2005-01-21T23:50:00.000Z

Oh... I very nearly went and done it. I was this >< close to getting it. I had it in my hands and was able to caress its buttons. But I was strong. I have willpower. I held out. Instead, I bought a new memory card. The D70 will just have to wait for another day... but its time is coming... and I have decided that I will be getting the Nikon instead of the 20D. Bit of a roller coaster of a day today. I was asked to give a quote for translating and editing a book. Not wanting to have to do it, since I have a lot on, I hoped to dissuade them by quoting a price that was three times my usual rate. They accepted it! My prices have just gone up! After all, the D70 won't work without lenses! My first port of call when I get my new camera will be the States! - it is decided (although I haven't yet figured out how to tell Linda). So, I'm off on my travels tomorrow with my trusty laptop, S7000 and M603. Steeled, I am, for yet another week in Portugal's national library: between meetings at the uni, that is. Tomorrow is a travel day, and if all goes smoothly I should be at Alcântara by 9.30pm. I will possibly have time to post an image tomorrow, but if not, it will be up on Sunday. Talking of Sunday... since this trip is a short one (no free weekend), I only have one free day, and that will be Sunday. I'm not quite sure where I'm going to go, but don't be surprised if I end up in Sintra. I have not forgotten to pack my haggis, turnips, shortbread and outcakes: the whisky I will get at the airport. So. I'm all set. Tomorrow is a new day, a different country, and sees the return of colour. Tchau e até breve meus amigos!

Falling to bits

2005-01-20T23:45:00.000Z

A couple of months ago, my bank took my old Switch card off of me, and replaced it with a Visa Electron. Apparently this is all part of the banks' attempt to eradicate card crime: the old card was swipe and sign, while the new one is 'chip and pin'. There is one slight problem, however: the last two times that I have tried to use it to pay for something, I was told by the retailer that they didn't accept the card. It happened today in the garage, while the time before was just surreal. You see, that time it was the bank who said they couldn't accept the card. Let me explain. I used to pay my credit card bill via my on-line bank account. Recently, however, my bank has been taken over by the Halifax building society. When the Halifax's on-line banking system was superimposed over the Bank of Scotland's, the BofS system simply stopped working, and several calls to the helpline have proven to be futile. Not to worry, I thought, I still have telephone banking... except that too was getting the Halifax treatment. Now the situation is much worse. My credit card is issued by the BofS, and in the past when I wanted to pay something towards it, I simply called the bank and transferred funds from my current account via my Switch card. This worked until the bank replaced my Switch card with their new Visa Electron chip and pin. When I asked to transfer money from my current account to my Visa using the card the bank had issued, I was told that they can't accept their own card, and that I would have to go to a branch to make the transfer. They say the new cards are designed to prevent fraud! What better way to prevent fraud than to issue cards that no-one - not even the bank itself - accepts. Pure genius!

Return of the flu

2005-01-19T14:47:00.000Z

I really should have known better. I checked up on Cathie, who seems much better, then went down to file my income tax. Apart from the usual cold symptoms, I felt fine. Got back into the house and fell asleep - something I never do during the day - and woke up about four hours later aching and sweating. The flu has made its return. Rather than bore you with how bad I'm feeling (I guess I'm not the first, and that I won't be the last to get flu), I'm just going to sign off and head up to bed in the hope that I'm better tomorrow.

Bricks, bridges and rivets

2005-01-18T14:47:00.000Z

Never mind the thermometer, it's time to get the Sinex out. I felt okay this morning. I even went over to check up on Cathie and take her her newspapers before wandering down to Magdalen Green and then along the Riverside to the bookshop. I left the house knowing exactly what I wanted to photograph. I was to be disappointed, however, as there was nowhere near as much snow down at the river as there was where I live. Best laid plans, and all that. Anyway, I took a few photos of the Magdalen Green bandstand and the rail bridge before nipping into the supermarket cafe for an all day breakfast and a read at Digital Photography. Duly fed and caffeined-up to brave the bitter wind coming in off the Tay, I set off for the bookshop to finally spend the gift vouchers that have been burning a hole in my pocket since Christmas. I treated myself to Henri Cartier-Bresson's book 'Europeans'. There are some awesome photographs in this book, which hopefully I will be able to learn from. You never know... stranger things have happened!!! Back to the tale. I felt great while I was walking about this morning. As soon as I got back into the house, I started to feel awful: my nose is blocked and running, my eyes are sore and I have a headache. I don't think this is the flu, though, because I don't have a temperature. Just a cold, but I wish it would go away.

An entrance or a hindrance?

2005-01-17T14:46:00.000Z

Although I wouldn't say that I am fully recovered, I am certainly the least affected of all of us. Yesterday every bone and muscle in my body was aching, my temperature was hovering around the 102 degree mark, my nose was blocked and I had a thumping headache. Now, I have a semi blocked nose and a sore back. Linda, however, has been pole-axed, and unable to do a thing; Liam has come out in sympathy with her. Linda's mum is laid low as well, and refuses to take the medicine the doctor prescribed. So, not long out of my sickbed myself, and I am nursing three patients! Not that I mind, because I am well looked after on the rare occasions I get ill, and they are the people I love after all! Quid pro quo. Strange thing happened at the library. Linda had several books overdue, so I said I would return them and pay the fines after I had looked in on Cathie. So off I went, and handed the books over to the librarian and asked her how much was due (I knew how much was owing, because we had checked over the internet from home, I just wanted to make sure that it hadn't gone up). The librarian refused to tell me, because the books were out on my wife's ticket. I told her that I knew that we owed £2.40, and that I would like to pay it while I was there. She said that she could not confirm that the fine was £2.40. I insisted she took the money, which she did, saying that she couldn't tell me if that was the total fine cleared. I just thought 'whatever' as I waited for my receipt. I reached out for my receipt, and the librarian tore it up and put it in the bin, saying that I couldn't have it! I asked her why. She said that it was because of data protection legislation. I asked her to explain just how data protection legislation is applicable for till receipts that solely state that a certain amount of money was paid into a certain till at a certain time on a certain date. She said that it was because I was paying a fine that I shouldn't know about, and that she couldn't give me proof that I had paid it, or anything towards it. I asked if the receipt made any mention of the books, my wife's name, her library card number, or anything at all that could identify either my wife or why the money was paid. She rang it up again and gave me the receipt. When I got back home I checked on the internet to make sure that she had marked the fines as being paid. She had. Later on in the evening I went for a walk up round Baldovan - the first time I have managed to get out since last Wednesday. While I was out, I came across a small wood covered with snowdrops. I got to thinking: the snowdrops are blooming and it's getting lighter at night... that can only mean one thing: it's mid-January! Got back home just ahead of the snow. Apparently we are in for a few days of blizzards. Just as long as it all calms down on Saturday.

Flu

2005-01-16T14:45:00.000Z

Sorry to be brief, but I've finally caught what Liam had and am presently laid up with the flu. Normal service will be resumed ASAP

Wish you were here

2005-01-15T14:44:00.000Z

We were off on the road again: back to Edinburgh to collect Linda and her mum from the airport after their curtailed short break to Amsterdam. Apparently they had a very good time, until last night, when they both took ill. The drive home was a race against the clock, as the passengers were all suffering: Liam with his cough and sore throat; Linda and Cathy with their food poisoning. We almost made it without incident. On the way south, Liam and I stopped off at a very windy and cold North Queensferry, where I wanted to take a few shots of one of Scotland's iconic structures, the Forth Rail Bridge. From the road bridge, North Queensferry and the rail bridge look lovely: from North Queensferry, the rail bridge is one impressive building, and the road bridge looks very similar to Lisbon's Ponte 25 de Abril. From North Queensferry, North Queensferry was depressing. But, hey, it might just have been the weather.

Off on my travels again

2005-01-14T14:43:00.000Z

Thanks everyone for your well wishes, I am glad to report that I have successfully nursed Liam back to health. Although his throat is sore, and he still has a chesty cough, his temperature and appetite are back to normal. He is currently bouncing about the living room, moving between the DVD that he is sort of half watching and the strategy game on his PC. On another note, I must say that I am getting a bit tired of travelling back and forwards to Lisbon. It costs me quite a lot of money (as Mr Inland Revenue will attest): money that could be spent going to more exotic locations. As a bit of a diversion this lunch hour, I went on to the Expedia site and had a look at the cost of flights to some of the destinations in the world that I would like to visit in the not too distant future. I am going to Lisbon next Saturday for a week, and the air tickets cost me just under £200. A return ticket from Edinburgh to JFK, on the same dates, would cost me £235, while a return to Boston was £245, Seattle would set me back £320 and LAX £290. Makes you think. Just out of interest, I checked for flights later in the year, working to the conventional wisdom that the further in advance you book and pay, the less you pay. This general rule does not seem to hold true for US destinations, as the cheapest return I could get to anywhere in the States in July would cost me almost £700. If I can get flights to the States for under £300 before Easter, though, then I think I would like to go over for a few days at the end of February or the beginning of March. Now, are there any Americans out there prepared to give me a roof over my head for a few days!? What? D'ya think I'm joking?

Salted peanut pile

2005-01-13T14:43:00.000Z

Well, this morning was much nicer, and I managed to drop Linda and her Mum off safe and sound at Edinburgh Airport. The journey went without incident, at least until we caught the early rush-hour traffic about 2 miles north of the Forth Bridge. I looked at the clock... plenty of time to get to the airport, so I just relaxed. I think I was the only unconcerned driver, judging by the amount of lane changing that was going on in front of me, and the number of people who were speeding up the hard shoulder without a care for anyone who may have to use it for the purpose for which it is provided. I know that there are cameras everywhere on the approaches to the bridge, and I know that the technology exists to capture the registration numbers of the dangerous drivers. They should send them out hefty fixed penalty fines. So, no real drama. Unless, of course, you want to class Liam getting the 'flu a drama. So the wee soul started getting hot last night, prompting Linda to declare that she and her Mum were not going to go to Amsterdam. I told her not to be so daft, and assured her that I am perfectly capable of caring for my son. He slept on the journey south, and was chatting away on the road back home. He started to get a bit hot when we got in, so now he is lying dozing on the couch, pumped full of paracetamol to bring his temperature down, and surrounded with bottles of water and apple juice and bowls of ice-cream. He was burning up this afternoon, but he seems to have cooled down a bit now - the paracetamol is kicking in. Hopefully he's over the worst of it, because he can't have any more medicine until 4am. I think I might be needing to run a luke warm bath for him! Anyway, given that the Boy is ill, I haven't had a chance to take any photos today. Nevertheless, I just happened to chance upon this little mound of salted peanuts. Enjoy, for as much as I would like to hang about here, I must go and tend to my son. (Give me my halo now, please).

Blowing in the wind

2005-01-12T14:42:00.000Z

Wow! What a day that was. It started very, very early, and very, very badly. We were all up by 5.30am, and on the road one hour later. We didn't get very far, as the police had closed the Friarton Bridge over the Tay at Perth. It had been a windy night last night, but I hadn't realised just how windy. Hurricane force winds had wreaked havoc across the country, with the Western Isles bearing the brunt of the storm. While the force of the gales had dissipated somewhat by the time they reached the east coast, we were still facing gusts of over 100 miles per hour - more than enough to overturn high sided vehicles, bring down trees and street signs and spread dangerous debris across roads. Once at Perth we decided that it would be foolhardy to continue, so we turned back. Once back in the house I rebooked the flights for tomorrow and told the hotel that we would be a day late. The airline company charged me £130 over the internet for changing my booking, and the hotel booking agent told me that the hotel had refused a refund for the night we wouldn't be there. Bearing in mind the circumstances, I was livid at having to pay more for less, so I phoned the airline. It was a mistake, they said: since the flight had been cancelled, I shouldn't have been charged. They apologised profusely and promised to refund the money immediately: so well done EasyJet. Next the hotel. I phoned the hotel directly, and they assured me that they would not charge for tonight, and that they were surprised to hear that the booking agent had said otherwise. I phoned the booking agent again, and hopefully that will be sorted out too. By the time all of this was sorted out it was mid morning, the sun was shining and you would never believe that we had just experienced the worst storms in over a decade: a storm that had brought the country's public transport systems to a complete standstill for most of the day, and which has cost at least five people their lives. I wanted to make the most of the nice weather, so I wandered up round Baldovan to Pitempton to have a look at the Dronley Burn, which is running swiftly and contentedly within its own banks. So.. no floods and no fallen trees: just the occasional piece of debris on the road and the odd overturned wheelie bin! Surreal. Managed to speak to Silvia and told her that I would be over in Lisbon next Saturday, and that we need to get the Burns' Supper organised. This time it is at her flat... I'll be sure to share the event with you. As for now: well, tomorrow we head out for Edinburgh once more. This time we should be okay.