2016 # 11 Easter Monday

Its been some weekend. The football team I coach (with Dan playing left back this week) won another semi-final and play the final on the 6th April, the day after Dan's 21st. And yesterday was an Easter trip to London for a family celebration because it also coincides with Dan's birthday, and he got the chance to see his Brown Grandma, Granddad, aunties, uncles and cousins. In fact the only person missing was Abbi, and then wouldn't you know - having taken in the Alexander Calder exhibition at the Tate Modern before lunch we bumped into her (pictured above). Serendipity plays a huge part in our lives and there she was, the tennis player, still in Oklahoma but there in spirit and soon to be back with us (she graduates in May - yay). Going up to London by train is always a treat and on the way we came across this sign. Any idea what its about? Answers on a post card please. We thought it might be describing us - we were indeed 'Off Up' to the smoke but its not the kind of sign you expect to see in a station. I recommend the Calder exhibition and of course there is a load to see at the Tate Modern already. It was a fine trip and even the two problem moments caused little stress. Having come off the train at Blackfriars and walked over the Millennium Bridge we got caught in a hail storm right on the cusp, going back was just as bad an option as going forward. Serendipity at play again, on the way back from the Tate we were caught in the same place; ah well, both times we ran forward and not back - moving forward into spring, leaving winter behind, happy Easter - we love listening to this in the car

2016 # 10 Good Friday

The boy pictured front, centre, is my Dad's brother, my Uncle Wull (William, is not Willie or Will but Wullie or Wull). I never knew him. Come the Second World War he was in the RAF, a tail gunner in a Lancaster and he died over what was known as Czechoslovakia in 1944. Indeed, pretty well all of this football team would have gone to that war, all mates. I was thinking about the terrorist incidents in Brussels last night, and Paris and around the world and how the old hippy maxim of peace, love and understanding isn't such a bad idea. Yesterday an expert on ISIS (from Goldsmith's University) was saying that radicalism and recruitment to terrorism was easy in Europe when you had areas such as Molenbeek. I guess we have our own enclaves here in the UK and in an old fashioned parlance they are probably the modern equivalent of what were known once as ghettos, though its much too simple an explanation. Can societal alienation be the biggest factor. The only time I can recall being seriously racially discriminated against (apart from the odd Jock jokes, which are only mildly irritating) was in Southall, Birmingham. I was crossing the road at the lights, in front of an Asda van  and he made to lunge forward. I jumped out of the way and the driver and his mates laughed, 'Want some of my Van, white boy?' he shouted. Again, very mild and less than the comments women and gay people get regularly, or the comments that come with being black or Asian in this country. The thing is, it all speaks to and off intolerance and I suspect driving the Asda van said more about the problems being created. Education, employment and opportunity are tools for social mobility. My Uncle Wull along with millions in this country was fighting for a better world, for a better future and 72 years later we are still the recipients of his generosity. Today is good Friday; Happy Easter to those who believe in the Biblical story and also to those who prefer the Easter bunny, and to everyone who believes in peace, love and understanding, its a good message.

2016 # 9

'Poets - unlike other people - ,' wrote Ivo Andric, in Disquiet, 'are loyal only in misfortune and they abandon those who are doing well.' This always struck me as an odd thing to write. It is like saying the collective noun for poets is a 'glum'. But I don't find this to be the case at all. There are preconceived notions about all art, of course. We tend to think of medieval art as a bit religious and that would be true, but that doesn't mean its not a colourful world. The painting above is in the Uffizi and is the Adoration of the Magi by Ghirlandaio but look at the colours. Of course it was painted right at the end of the medieval, indeed where it overlaps with the Renaissance. Though some of the Caravaggio and Rembrandt stuff can look as though they were painted in a dark room. I am in Florence as I write this and its the most remarkable city, the people are wonderful, the waiters especially and they take such a pride in serving what is fairly routine but wonderful Italian food. GF spaghetti and clams in a light tomato sauce sprinkled with oregano and washed down with a glass of chianti, roll me up and send me to heaven. And now its Saturday morning and I am off for a run - nay, waltz (que the music) - by the river. 

2016 # 8

Nineteen seventy-four,  Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (ZMM) landed on my lap. I was nineteen, just a crazy kid with a dream. Twenty-sixteen and I am in a hotel room in Winchester (long story of double bookings and administrative incompetence) and the book is back because I thought I might check it out again to see if it is how I remembered it. Looking back to then, I had no idea I would be here now, then again looking back at the weekend I had no idea I would be here either; three in the morning, unable to sleep. Which just goes to show, you can never really anticipate a life. One thing age has taught me is that ambition and progress through a life is just a journey and the journey doesn't ever promise a destination, so I guess ZMM has some resonance. Pirsig said, 'It's the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top.' I live on the side of a hill now but the nineteen year old me would never have seen where; neither would the nineteen year old have seen me planning Edinburgh, London, Florence, New York, Chicago, Oklahoma, Crete, Brisbane, Canberra and all else in-between for this year - though I am not forgetting Western Macedonia, or Corfu, where I took this picture (above) and where I was recently privileged to be an invited guest - and hope to return. But that's just as it is too. So, from my Winchester hotel room, I decided to eat then spread down the duvet and see where the motorcycle odyssey would take me, forty years after the first time round - though I hadn't expected to be here, reading ZMM again at three in the morning, while listening to William Byrd's Mass for Four Voices, 'It is a kind of nowhere, famous for nothing at all and has an appeal because of just that.'

2016 # 7

Another weekend bites the dust. I was in touch with an old friend today (Davie Jack - great singer) and dates came up - mostly attached to his Lewis Leathers fringed jacket, which I coveted. What I was trying to figure out was dates; dates when we played in bands; dates when we sat on motorbikes; dates when we bumped into each other at Esk Valley College (the days of day release and education). My first paid job was 2 paper rounds in 1967; I kept those jobs going as long as I could, plus grouse beating and other assorted stuff, even when I joined the Civil Service in 1971 (in at the bottom but a day a week at day release, education). And then at night, rehearsing with bands, writing songs, playing gigs, I bought my first really special acoustic guitar (which I loaned to Brian Anderson and haven't seen since), then a Fender Strat which I still have (1961, eat yer heart out) and then other stuff, fixing Ford Anglias, a Honda Bike, an MG and laughs, loads of laughs. Stuff went on, strikes, struggles, but Alex Sharpe who will remember Hearts and Gordon Munro will remember careful with the glass Eugene, know that was just the pattern of life then. Nevertheless, there were huge laughs and music, always music, a residency at Micky Tams, that was my favorite time, huge bands, Springsteen at the Lyceum was the peak, but way back in 1970 it was Free at the Empire - and Woodstock at the cinema. It had such a strong pull. I have been working since 1967, goodness, that is nearly 50 years. I am ok with that, life is a long pier - as long as you can keep on walking. Sometimes people forget great songs for the wrong reasons (hip, cool etc) and sometimes you forget to smile. I like songs and how they are constructed, this is surely a huge one at heaven's gate:

2016 # 5

When I am down in Winchester I stay in this great little house which belongs to my friends Geoff and Terry, who live in Oregon. Last night, around three in the morning, I awoke to the whole house shaking followed by a cocophany of grinding machinery. I have no idea what a world would feel like if tanks moved in but that came to mind as I rose from the deep sleep I was in. And then I remembered. The house is very near to the railway line and they are carrying out repairs through the night. Phew, while the sound of industry at three in the morning is a little disconcerting - and it plays havoc with sleep - I count the blessing that I live in such a safe world. I am still working on the Boat project with a view to help others, especially children, to understand the plight of others whose life isn't quite so settled. When you get into a project like this you forget how difficult it is to pull all of the threads together. I am working with the artist, Stephanie Morris, and Adelaide Morris is running the project management and we seem to hop from meeting to meeting, yesterday it was three hours in Winchester, followed by a summing up, grabbing a bite to eat as we worked - sometimes it feels like chasing a bubble in Central Park, NY (pictured above). And still there is more to be done, more people to meet and more things to consider. Its a wonder any art ever gets to the stage where it can be presented to the world. But it will be worth all the effort in the end - and the Discovery Centre in Winchester have confirmed not one but two dates. And so, having risen early, thanks to the railway company, its another morning of teaching. Have a good Wednesday - or if you read this later, I hope your Wednesday was fab. When I am away from home, sitting around in the early morning with sleep evading, I like to listen to different things. This I adore, the saxophone laced around a plainsong is astonishing. Do give it a moment in the quiet: