Thursday, April 12, 2007

Aquarium

With all the stress of modern life and the constant stream of bad news I thought a nice restful look a a video aquarium might be restful. These are the fish in the pool in the Royal Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh; I get the impression the pale one is trying to send a Morse Code message with its lips...

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Blogging anniversary

Bobbie Johnson wrote a feature in the Guardian at the weekend celebrating the tenth anniversary of blogging (ironically just as I was celebrating the fourth birthday of the Woolamaloo blog), running through various events, from the first blogs, to the appearance of Boing Boing, politicians joining the blogosphere, blogs from inside Iraq, regimes trying to censor blog and imprison their writers, the first high profile 'doocing', the recent case in France with Petite Anglaise (who I'm glad to see won her case against her employers) and hey, what do you know, a mention of myself and a certain sandal-wearing Evil Boss at the Bookstore That Shall Not Be Named. Funny old world. The Guardian, along with the Scotsman, was one of the first print newspapers to pick up on that case, here it is a couple of years on still being mentioned there.
Giraffe Squadron

Messing around on Flickr with a new bunch of pics taken in the refurbished Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum in Glasgow. We just don't see enough giraffes in the same photograph as classic World War Two fighter planes.

Kelvingrove 6

Monday, April 9, 2007

Free historic Scotland

Historic Scotland's free weekend is coming up, where visitors can enjoy a number of our historical sites which normally cost for entry for free, including Edinburgh Castle on April 21st and 22nd. Looking on the HS site which has a list by region of attractions is a nice reminder of some of the history which is still physically with us (a lot which I haven't seen yet) literally covering not mere centuries but millennia, from Maeshow and Skara Brae to the dramatic remains of Tantallon Castle perched on the rugged, rocky cliffs looking out over the Forth (very Castle Dracula in the right lighting and weather). The RH site has details and individual entries even give OS map references and travel guides including information on going there using the National Cycle Network. Why do I have the troubling worry I will forget about this and remember on the following Monday and realise there was something I meant to do...
Traquair murals

The BBC news site pointed me to this mural on the walls of the Mansfield Traquair Centre in Edinburgh (formerly the Catholic Apostolic Church), where the murals by Phoebe Anna Traquair (a leading exponent of the Arts & Crafts movement in Edinburgh) have been restored as part of a renovation of the church. Since it is Easter Monday it seems as good a time as any to post this Biblical mural, showing the Expulsion from Paradise (Adam and Eve failed to pay their council tax and their landlord, God, had them evicted). Don't worry, folks, I'm not having a road to Damascus conversion here (I'd be more the Road to Bali), you don't have to be religious to enjoy this sort of art; besides on a mythological level it is quite fascinating.
Buy a real-life story, guv?

Funny how quickly national relief at the safe release of the Navy and Marines personnel after the Iranian kidnapping has soured in the face of Mammon and his bosom mate, Instant Celebrity (two unsavoury gods of modern society that often go together) rearing their ugly heads. Yes, thanks, I will sell you my shocking true story that was so traumatic to me and my family I have to demand a six figure sum to tell it to commercial TV and one of the most odious of Murdoch's red-top tabloid rags. The Scum paper treated the Fay Turney's story with the respect it deserved, splashing huge bold type on the front page with the words "rape" and "knickers" prominently displayed. I wanted to tell my story, she whined - well, Faye, well done for taking such a fine and upstanding way to do it and not just cashing in on the biggest offer from the most vulgar paper (and in this day of equality why is the media put more emphasis on the one woman in the group, both during and after their ordeal? Gee, I thought we were all equal now and women had struggled to be allowed into active front line service like this...). I see now the MOD has belatedly put a temporary ban on such story-selling (bit late) but really, is anyone over surprised by all of this?

Consider the society these young service folks are growing up in, one obsessed with tell-all exposes, instant celebrity whipped up by manufactured media frenzies (easier than making real programmes or doing real journalism) and the trappings of success and wealth. We have Big Brother, I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here and others feeding this desire for anyone and everyone to demand fame while the press media fuel and feed this demand by doing articles and photospreads, true-life, inside story exclusives and more (then later on gleefully run 'where are they now?' items showing a 15-minute fame former celeb being denied entry to a posh nightclub). Everyone agrees this is all tasteless and awful and yet millions buy the papers and mags with these articles in them; just as the same bleating numpties yelled how horrid it was the media hounded Princess Diana literally to death and ignored the fact that media jackal pack only did so because those same outraged citizens bought and read this crap by the barrel.

It does make you wonder where we are going though when even serving forces personnel are allowed to do this sort of thing (write an Andy McNab style book after you leave the forces, fine, that's your call, but while you are on duty and comrades are dying in the field?). What next? OK, Grazia, Heat and other dreadful publications running centre spreads on who you should know in the Navy this season, what the latest look is for the well-dressed hostage (grey suits have been done, darling). Maybe the broadsheets can get in on the act with a know-your-hostages wallchart, followed by a know-your true-life-story's-worth wallchart. Meantime we can sit back and enjoy I'm a Royal navy Sailor, Get Me Out of Here and Big Battalion. In fact why not go the whole hog and start using these other empty, dull endlessly repetitive on the same bloody theme reality shows where the winner becomes a singer in a West End show and the like? Strictly Come Soldiering or how about Any Air Force Will Do? This week's lucky winner joins the celebrity-studded ranks of 15 Commando, Royal Marines!!

Maybe we can call up Davina to do her bit for the War On Terror (WOT?) effort, if she isn't too busy trying to convince gullible women that she and her mum really love Garnier Nutrisse and often spend hours on the phone discussing their colouring regime (since her BB show is so full of crap wouldn't it be more relevant for her to be advertising Arse Painting? Colour those cheeks with Davina's new Arse Paints, girls, it's the latest thing! Now available in desert cammo for the celebrity forces gal on the move!). Meantime the Iranians must be laughing their arse off at this whole pathetic farago and smeg knows what it all does to the moral of troops still out there or the relatives of troops who came home in body bags to be planted in the cold earth rather than to open checkbooks from media jackals (that includes you, Trevor McDonald - you used to be one of our quality broadcasters, but with your show taking part in this I'm thinking I won't bother watching your show again since I am likely to be watching people you paid to appear). You guys wanted to tell your story? That's fine. Start a blog. You want to make thousands out of an ordeal like this while your comrades are still in the firing line? Bugger off.
Doggy social club

On the long beach stretching from the Fidra Lighthouse along to North Berwick, a favourite spot for Bruce the greyhound/lurcher/something hairy dog who not only loves galloping along the sands and running into the nearby dunes to chase rabbits, he loves the fact that everyone and their dog goes there too. Meaning he has a multitude of other dog's bums to sniff, it's a veritable dog social club.