Wednesday, January 02, 2013

Out with the old, in with the new


What have I been up to since I was last here? Well, in between all sorts of other business in town on the Thursday morning, I had visited John Lewis and some shoe shops, but no sensible bargains had been unearthed (perhaps because I was two hours late?). On Friday, I travelled from the M&S Outlet in the East, where I got the elusive pair of dark blue jeans, west to their so-called flagship store in Braehead in search of that nice grey cardigan I had spotted in the sale in Argyle St. Success! On Saturday morning in town, I finally got a pair of black shoes, so the shopping quest had come to an end.  Just as well; I had all but run out of money.

I don’t actually remember Sunday. I didn’t go out, at least I don’t think I did. Monday, or Hogmanay, was more memorable. After an errand in town, I went for a walk by the River Clyde for about two hours. I had had a mad idea to cross the various bridges between Kings Bridge, at Glasgow Green, and the Millennium Bridge, at Pacific Quay. Due to sore feet and a cold wind, and a detour into the park itself to attempt to identify a large number of birds which I had seen moving between trees, I only made it as far as the Tradeston Bridge, known colloquially as the Squiggly Bridge, around a mile and a half to the west. It would have been a perfect afternoon if those birds had been Waxwings, but they were (only) Song Thrush (and possibly Fieldfare and Redwing). They led me a merry dance in the saturated ground between the trees, and I must have looked like an idiot wandering around looking up at them; an idiot that never takes binoculars out on a walk.

Ne’erday, as they call it here, was a time for reflection and the deep sadness I have recently come to know as my permanent companion. I needed to keep busy, so what better way than to spend eight hours trying to tidy away vast quantities of rubbish that I had allowed to build up since last Easter. Ok, it wasn’t all rubbish, but most of it should have been thrown out or shredded months ago. At the end of this thankless task, I was so tired that I had little energy left to be anything beyond melancholy.

That brings me to my review of 2012. If I look back at my words from a year ago today, I am amused to see that I still had a sense of humour. In three hundred and sixty-six days (or fewer) the poles appear to have been realigned. Yin-yang? Symmetry? Fucking waste of time and energy. Let’s take a look at how the rest of the year went:

Lose weight: This depends on the next resolution. (20/80)
Believe it or not, I succeeded in losing some weight, but only accidentally, due to illness. Must try harder.

Eat less: I don’t eat much, but what I do eat is wrong. Constant comfort eating of industrial quantities of biscuits and cakes is not a good idea. (50/50)
I’d say that I ate more, much more, and of the wrong things. Try again in 2013?

Go to the gym: There are other ways to get exercise, but paying gym membership and not going is, in these austere times, downright stupid. Would I have gone over the holidays had the place been open? Now, there’s another question. (50/50).
I have not set foot inside the gym in the last year. I don’t really count the three months between January and April, as I was ill (as I said before), but I’ve been too lazy the rest of the time. It has been open this Christmas holiday (except on Public Holidays), but I’ve not attended. Try again next year.

Drink less: Less than the quantity I drink already? I probably drink less in an entire year than the average Glaswegian drinks in an hour on a Friday night. Anyway, I might need to develop an alcohol addiction if I’m off the biscuits. (No chance)
I may have consumed a few more units this year. Literally. Oh, dear. 

Work harder: In work? I think not. (No chance)
Hah, no. 10/10

Write more: Of this? Probably. What do you mean ‘this doesn’t count’? (50/50)
I did, until I gave up on life. Pity. I thought I was getting good at it.

Read more: This might help with a number of the above (particularly the number 6). (20/80)
Mmm. Anyone want to give me about £400 so I can get my dyslexia diagnosed once and for all?

Travel more: Money, time and the ability to slip off the chains; three things I rarely have at the same time. I had a mad idea earlier about visiting places beginning with the letter ‘B’. Does that mean I can’t go back to Llandudno? (40/60)
Now here’s a funny thing; I DID travel more. I went on EIGHT trips, and vistited quite a number of places, and some of those places begin with the letter ‘B’. Where did I go, I hear you say?
  • Edinburgh Zoo, where I saw the Pandas, and some other animals, obviously.
  • London, where I visited the Churchill War Rooms, at last, and saw some pelicans in the park
  • Brighton, where I ate ice-cream on a deceptively cold day; went round and round on a big wheel; went on an electric railway; visited the Royal Pavilion, at last; saw a wonderful play called Anne Boleyn, and saw British Sea Power play all of their almost perfect first album.
  • London, again, where I went to the Science Museum, and had to leave early during a concert at Cadogan Hall by the National Youth Brass Band of Great Britain because their conductor was talking too much and the show was in danger of overrunning!
  • Morecambe, where I ate a snack on a beautiful evening by the bay as a biting wind threatened to cut me in two and, a couple of days later, I headed to the RSPB reserve at Leighton Moss, near Carnforth.
  • Lytham St. Anne’s, where I saw the remains of their pier, and an absolutely enormous beach, neither of which I had seen in 2002, as it had been raining heavily. I also saw a statue in memory of Les Dawson. Kickers, knackers, knockers, indeed.
  • Blackpool, where I discovered that, if you want to park along the front, it will cost you £7 for the day, in coins, and that the new trams are nice, if lacking in charm. On the return journey to Morecambe that Sunday night, I nearly came off the road when I was startled by a male Sparrowhawk which had just flown over the car.
  • Pitlochry, where I attended performances of Rope and The 39 Steps on consecutive nights at the Festival Theatre, I rediscovered my disdain for Scottish (hotel) hospitality and saw an Oystercatcher on the roof of a building.
  • Blairgowrie, where I realised that I should be more careful where I stay on Saturday nights, as a four-hour disco directly under my room is not conducive to a good night’s sleep, and that the Red Squirrels at Loch of the Lowes nature reserve are alone worth the subscription to the Scottish Wildlife Trust. I also saw another Oystercatcher nesting on a roof.
  • Birnam and Dunkeld, where I bought a scarf, watched a cat wash itself in the grounds of the Cathedral, and made a promise (to myself, of course) to go back for a weekend in 2013.
  • Crieff, where I had roast lamb for lunch, and discovered that, in common with other Perthshire towns and villages at the Jubilee Weekend, an SNP-held constituency does not guarantee the presence of a Saltire.
  • RSPB Loch Leven, where I saw Swallows sitting on fences, for a change, and saw huge black clouds that were going to scupper any chances of my seeing the Transit of Venus the next morning.
  • London, again, where I returned to the Science Museum to see the Alan Turning exhibition then almost lost my jacket and money in the Universe of Sound exhibit, before seeing an amazing 3D film about repairing the Space Shuttle. Later that evening, I saw the John Wilson Orchestra and a stellar cast perform My Fair Lady at the BBC Proms in the Royal Albert Hall. On Sunday, I went shopping in Oxford Street, before going to a lunchtime concert at Wigmore Hall, then west to Acton for some jazz, then back to Oxford Street then back to Wigmore Hall. Phew. No wonder I slept for most of the coach journey home.
  • The Falkirk Wheel and the Bo’ness and Kinneil Railway, the former for the first time since it had opened ten years previously!
  • Clydebank, where I went up the Titan Crane, at last.
  • Llandudno and Conwy as usual, plus Chester and a trip on the Blaenau Ffestiniog Railway to Porthmadog for lunch on my 50th birthday
  • Edinburgh, where I attended a gig at the Jazz Festival on my way back from Wales to Glasgow
  • Edinburgh, again, on two consecutive Saturday evenings, once for the Janacek opera The Makropulos Case, and once for a concert by the LSO.
  • London, yet again, where I went to, in no particular order, the Victoria and Albert Museum; the Science Museum, for a last look at Universe of Sound; The National Theatre, to see George Bernard Shaw’s The Doctor’s Dilemma; the wibbly-wobbly Millennium Bridge, at last; the Imperial War Museum; up and round and round on a big twirly thing on the South Bank; The National Gallery; The Royal Albert Hall, again, for John Wilson’s Broadway Prom; the Natural History Museum. I flew back from London City Airport. Most convenient.
  • Stratford-Upon-Avon, where I saw Twelfth Night (minus the first 19 minutes), The Tempest and The Comedy of Errors, which could describe my journeys there and back.
  • Lytham St, Anne’s, again, where I got rained on,  and ripped off in a B&B with ideas above its station
  • Blackpool, again, where I really got rained on, but not before I’d gone on the log flume and the twirly thing I’d been too scared to try in April. I also went to watch dancers in the Tower Ballroom, and saw the Circus. Ten years after my first trip to the Illuminations, I had returned for their 100th. On my way home, I went to Martin Mere, where I joined the WWT, and was nearly savaged by two Australian Shelducks.
That was the end of that. Back to the resolutions:

Be nice to people: In the last five years, I seem to have mastered the art of being nice to people I don’t even like. Even though I don’t mean it, I hope they appreciate the effort. (50/50)
Even the ones I am (very) nice to don’t give a fuck and treat me like shite. Lesson: people are bastards. Keep away.

Use Twitter less: Well, that’s a new one. I signed up for it a couple of years ago, but it took me until September 2011 to figure out how to use it. It’s great for sending rude messages to politicians or compliments to artistic types. The 140-character limit is a bummer, though. No, I’ll give it while longer before I pass judgement on it. (10/90)
I use it more. I like it.

Go out more: This means gigs, doesn’t it? It’s not as if I go anywhere else. Well, this is a difficult one. I’ve got a bit of a hearing problem (pardon?), due to going to gigs in the past; I want to punch anyone who talks at a gig; I’ve not been up late for years; I don’t want to meet anyone I know; I can’t handle the amount of laundry; too expensive, and so on. Enough excuses? I could be here all night at this rate. (20/80)
I did.

Count to ten.
I didn’t.

Anything else about 2012?
  • Celtic won the league, and by the end of the year, the club still in four tournaments, including in the last 16 of the Champions League. The standout games were the home victories against Barcelona and Spartak Moscow. What an achievement!
  • I played in two more concerts, but am close to giving up playing in the orchestra, as it doesn’t suit my temperament.
  • I got a new car. There was nothing wrong with the old one, but I lost my heart to my new Fiesta.
  • Amy Pond and Rory Williams ‘died’ in Manhattan, and have been replaced by the mysterious and feisty Clara Oswin Oswald. I am really looking forward to the next eight episodes.
  • The Mayan end-of-the-world prediction didn’t come true. Sadly.
What’s coming up this year? Well, with any luck, I will be able to wear most of my recent purchases in the latter half of January, as I have around twenty events in the diary between 17 January and 3 February, inclusive. Most are concerts, and most of the concerts are part of the 20th Anniversary of Glasgow’s world-renowned folk and roots festival, Celtic Connections. I am trying to attend as many gigs as possible around all the other concerts (and other events) during that period to make up for my non-attendance over the last few years. Apart from that, it’ll be the usual quota of concerts and football matches, with the occasional trip away, all on my own, and all empty, hollow and meaningless. Out with the old and in with the new. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. Here we go again.