John Martyn

I saw him in concert in Glasgow, at the City Halls. I was sixteen or seventeen. There was him and Danny Thomson. Half way through John Martyn got into an argument with a guy in the audience (it might have had something to do with JM's wife Beverly). JM climbed off the stage and chased the guy out of the hall. We were all younger. RIP man, RIP.

John Martyn: a music legend remembered in The Guardian
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Gifts from a friend

Perfect spot for a picnic

At Centennial Park the perfect spot for an Anansi Boys picnic is just over the grassy knoll that separates this pond from the lilly pond. It's there that Coots reveal themselves to be as daft as ... coots, I suppose.

For an Anansi Boys picnic the following components constitute the bare minimum requirements:

* orange juice
* tomatoes
* chedder chees
* yam
* anything Greek
* bottle of post-murder Chablis
* Jaffa cakes (or eqivalent)

Picture by Marie Robertson

Some days are quad days

So ... the two small wounds on the back of one's right leg finally close and you think, we're on the way to healing at last; and you think, I might make it to the swimming pool soon after all. Then you discover a not-so-small damaged area on your left buttock, which makes you think ... and where did that come from as well as wondering ... how many holes in his bum does one man need?. So you get out the granuflex (which is lovely looking, isn't it?) to begin the repair job and healing, which will be slow because you've got very bad quadriplegic's blood circulation.

Some time later you knock you toes against a book case and only later do you discover (with a little help from a friend) that you've more or less ripped off a toe nail. That explains the massive sweating, which is probably a substitute for pain responses.


You begin to wonder ... will we ever go swimming?

Yes (but not this week or next).
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Anansi Boys

Brilliant writing.

I want to run away with Maeve Livingstone.

Neil Gaiman' web site.

Anansi at Wiki.

Gifts from a friend

"... he had picked an extremely odd time to discover his inner Drifters."
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Robert Burns ...born 250 years ago today

To a Louse

- On seeing one in a lady's bonnet at church.

Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie?
Your impudence protects you sairly;
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze and lace,
Tho faith! I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested. shunn'd by saunt an sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her -
Sae fine a lady!
Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner
On some poor body.

Swith! in some beggars hauffet squattle:
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle,
Wi ither kindred, jumping cattle;
In shoals and nations;
Whare horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle
Your thick plantations.

Now haud you there! ye're out o sight,
Below the fatt'rils, snug an tight,
Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right,
Till ye've got on it -
The vera tapmost, tow'rin height
O Miss's bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump an grey as onie grozet:
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't,
Wad dress your droddum!

I wad na been surpris'd to spy
You on an auld wife's flainen toy;
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On's wyliecoat:
But Miss's fine Lunardi! fye!
How daur ye do't?

O Jeany, dinna toss your head.
An set your beauties a' abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie's makin!
Thae winks an finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin!

O wad some Power the gift tae gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
An foolish notion:
What airs in dress an gait wad lea'e us,
An ev'n devotion!

1786

Robert Burns at Wiki

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