P.S...

Christmas has come early!

Well actually, it came exactly when expected, but I didn't have a clue what I wanted when people asked, so I asked for amazon or itunes vouchers. Fortunately, everyone got Amazon vouchers, rather than splitting it between the two to the diminishment of both.

I'd decided I wanted a graphics tablet. Very much a luxury for me really. I don't need it for my job, although Bren might well find a decent tablet useful as a professional photographer.

The Graphics Tablet world is dominated by a company called Wacom. I could have got a small (perhaps A6 or at best A5) tablet from them. Or I could go with a budget brand, which is what I ended up doing.

It was sceduled to arrive sometime around the 6th of January 2011, but it came this morning, and I've bneen having a good old mess about with it.

First task was to remove many layers of packaging, only to find that the thing just wouldn't work. It turned out that I'd missed the final layer of packaging. The AAA battery I put into the pen was shrink wrapped in plastic.

If you like to draw, you can find some awesome art HERE at "Doodlebug", AKA "Desktop Creatures". Some incredibly talented scribblers turn the single simple black line they're given into things of sublime beauty, far beyond my talents.

I've done a couple this afternoon. I couldn't resist sharing them with the world.

And that's me done blogging for another year. I wish anyone that reads this blog a happy and prosperous 2011, although I suspect it's not going to be an easy year.

The Last Post

Of 2010. Probably, unless I suddenly discover a fantastic letter R in the next few days or something.

2010 has been a mediocre year for me in many ways. Just plodded on without really going anywhere. There have been some good bits, and nothing really bad has happened. Not to me personally anyway. My Dad's prostrate cancer has probably been the worst bit, but that's responded well to treatment, and as far as I'm aware, it's in remission. I was down at my mum and dads a couple of days ago, along with lots of other extended family. Had a good old natter with my dad. He was telling us about his sadistic old cunt of a father. He hoped he hadn't been like that himself.

I told him that he'd had his moments. He told me I'd had moments too. And we laughed about it. We spent a long time at loggerheads. I'm so glad we buried the hatchet. We're so alike in so many ways.

I don't much know about New Year resolutions. When I've made any in the past, I've not really meant it. Or if I've  meant it, I've not been able to stick to it. But for what it's worth, starting on January 1st, I resolve:

•  To be tee-total. 
• To continue not to smoke cigarettes
• To work hard enough to clear my debts
• To get out on that bloody pushbike now and again. At least one decent bikeride a month.
• To be more considerate and less isolated from those closest to me.

more slip-sliding,

This time we went out to Bidston Moss - A former landfill site thats now been turned into public wander-space.

I walked on a lake. The ice was so thick, there wasn't even a hint that it could crack beneath my feet. And I took a load of photographs.

The best photograph is of a burned and toppled wheelie bin thing.

Friendly little chap, ain't it?

Bye bye blackbird

Work is scant at the moment, to say the least. But yesterday I got a double lesson in. We did "the Wales Run" out to Deeside and along the A55 from Flint to Queensferry.

And as we headed to the New Bridge on a fast dual carriageway, a blackbird flew across from the other side of the road. A second later, we smacked into it, and it left a smear of blood and feathers on the windscreen.

Not nice. I suppose if the oil lasted long enough, at some point, a strain of blackbirds would evolve that worked out that they need to fly high over black lines.

Music and movement.

The title of this post comes from my childhood. As young children, we would do physical education to music, and that's what the lessons were called.

Anyway, the gig the other day reminded me of something.

I once went to see some live classical music with a full orchestra at the Liverpool Philharmonic. Quite apart from the music, what struck me was the visual spectacle it presented. All these disparate and discrete individuals, each with their own action and in their own time came together to make a coherent piece of music.

You could watch individuals sawing and plucking away at stringed instruments, and brass players pressing the valves or bringing their instrument up to their lips, or watch the percussionists percuss, but taken all together, the impression was of watching an impressively complicated and fascinatingly pleasing piece of machinery going through its well oiled motions.

The same thing occurred to me the other day, watching Ian McNabb and his band, but much less so, because there were far fewer people involved in the making of the music, and because they were obscured by flashing lights and dry ice.