On my 61st birthday

Well I would like to thank all of you who send me such kind birthday wishes, I had a lovely day to mark and celebrate my 61st. Collectively and happily you really cheered this "old" guy up. It was truly my kind of a day. I went out and about through the morning, then again in the afternoon. All the time meeting lots of lovely people, and in the evening had a lovely meal with a friend in the Harbour View Restaurant at the Crown Hotel. There I met more lovely people cousins and friends. Your lovely messages and kind thoughts kept on arriving and I really enjoyed reading them all and responding to each individually.

Like so many others, over the past two years, I have so missed the wonderful human interaction that was our social characteristic, and nature. It was certainly the hallmark of my up bringing. As I get older the real important aspects that matter in this beautiful world, we have been gifted, are those special kind and happy things that people share. with each other. The birthday wish and congratulation.

Thank you all, once again, for adding such a lot of happiness to my birthday, true to form it seems to be getting carried over into the weekend, as we have such a lovely sunny Saturday. KB

The meter and the haircuts

I have so many vivid stories and memories of what was a truly happy and secure childhood. Various vents and circumstances trigger actual people and places, in an honest clarity... Now, as I consider the impact of "The Cost of Living Crisis" and its effects on us at this time in our history, I cannot help but think of how things were in our past. As the service tariffs increase and our heating and lighting costs rise to new heights, I remember how economies were made in the past.

Like most households my childhood home had a coin meter fitted for electricity, we did not have provision for a gas supply, where we were located. The meter was set higher than we actually needed or used, resulting in an over spend, which meant that there was always a surplus due when the meter was read, each quarter. That was a special day which we called the "Meter Man Day", when the actual amount due was set against the surplus. The coins left over were for our spending. That usually meant a trip to the town and first a visit to the barber, for a hair cut. Thereafter a trip to Woolworth's.

These visits were special, and usually took place on the first Saturday after the meter was emptied. The barber was a chap called Kenneth Morrison "Kenny The Barber". His most distinguishing feature were his scissor fingers which moved constantly and with speed, whilst he spoke. He employed two other barbers, one Roddy Wilson and the other Murdo "Murtdie" Ferguson, who lived very near us and whom we looked up to with his amazing quiff hair style, mega sideburns and ability to play the guitar. We four boys each hoped for Murtie to cut our hair. Kenny The Barber's Shop, was the right hand shop of The Stornoway Playhouse Cinema. It had a bench style seat in the waiting area and a there were three traditional faux leather adjustable barber's chairs by each of sinks. The shop smelt of "Brill Cream" and soap, and freshly cut hair required to be constantly swept clear.

Now for some reason one of us brothers took the operative meaning of "hair cut" and therefore associated a"hair cut"with something very unpleasant. Thinking he would be cut. For some time he was terrified of the visit to the barber's and would need to be gently treated and carefully reassured by our mother. There was reward once the hair cuts were done, as some of the surplus coinage from electricity meter would be then divided among us, giving us some spending power in Woolworth's, in the Cromwell Street Narrows. This was where books, toys and the "pck'n mix" counter were the attractions. The "Woolies" store in Stornoway was reputed to be the busiest in the north of Scotland and it's range of sweets certainly was testament to that reputation. This store had been built around 1935, I was fascinated with it's large wire netted globe style gas lighting, with the pull chains that switched them on and off. By the 1960s electric lighting had been installed, but the impressive gas lights remained as back up in case of electric power failure. I can clearly remember seeing them in operation, possibly into the 1970s. Once we made our purchase of carefully selected treats, we were happy to head back home.

trying out blogging

As I consider the impact of The Cost of Living Crisis and its effects on us at this time in our history, I cannot help but think of how things were in our past. As the service tariffs increase and our heating and lighting costs rise to new heights, I remember how economies were made in the past. Like most households my childhood home had a coin meter fitted for electricity, we did not have provision for a gas supply, where we were located. The meter was set higher than we actually used, resulting in an over spend, which meant that there was surplus due when the meter was read, each quarter. That was a special day which we called the "Meter Man Day", when the actual amount due was set against the surplus. The coins left over were for our spending. That usually meant a trip to the town and first a visit to the barber, for a hair cut. Thereafter a trip to Woolworth's.
These visits were special, and usually took place on the first Saturday after the meter was emptied. The barber was a chap called Kenneth Morrison "Kenny The Barber". His most distinguishing feature were his scissor fingers which moved constantly and with speed, whilst he spoke. He employed two other barbers, one Roddy Wilson and the other Murdo "Murtdie" Ferguson, who live near us and whom we looked up to with his amazing quiff hair style, megga sideburns and ability to play the guitar. We four boys each hoped for Murtie to cut our hair. Some of the surplus coinage was then divided among us, giving us some spending power in Woolworth's, where books, toys and the "pck'n mix" counter were the attractions. The "Woolies" store in Stornoway was reputed to be the busiest in the north of Scotland and it's range of sweets certainly was testament to that reputation.      

Spring equinox 2022

Spring, that season of expectation and hope, is with us now. The incredible wonder of nature, and the cycle of life's renewal ought to bring humility and tenderness. But sadly that is an idealistic dream. It has been a whole month since I last settled in front of my screen to vent my thoughts. But what a month, it has been. While I have tried to focus on developing as many as possible of the pleasant and positive aspects life. Vital among these, for a social being, such as myself, is meeting and connecting with the wonderful people, I am indeed fortunate to have, in my life. I have so many dear and precious friends and family. Indeed those who have supported, and continue to support me in various endeavours as I seek to recover from recent sadness, loss and bereavement. Such friendship is truly positive and transcends the negativity that can linger amidst unhappiness. We all know sorrow, we are all acquainted with pain, which is why the current issues and conflicts at large are so disturbing. As if, life were not a daily struggle enough. We do not have to go further than our own front doors to know we are having to face new increases in the expense of living. Oh, and course our world is set off on yet another major crisis. No, not disease or pandemic, this time, but a crazy war. Reminding us of the presence of hatred and destruction. The total madness of which is constantly unraveled through the news. We find ourselves seeking a means to shield ourselves from the most harrowing and disturbing aspects the coverage.

I am coming to the conclusion that for the time being ALL I really wish to do is create art work and cultivate my garden.

Some thoughts for the Spring Equinox 2022.

KB

20 February 2022

Well it has been a while since I last ventured here and mused on the wider world. The last few weeks, preferring to steal myself away, by myself, in my temporary winter studio. By necessity this has been set up on the dining table. As several months ago, my former designated space, for the creation of artistic endeavour, suffered a catastrophic ceiling collapse. This follows a seemingly habitual form, as my former studio in Glasgow - the great attic space above my huge Victorian flat, in the Bohemian West End - the garret leaked for years. I am well aware that water penetrating into plaster will always result in the collapse of the plaster. It usually decides to fall when one is at one's lowest ebb.... I was certainly at a horrid and sad low, when this most recent fall was discovered. But I am not letting this "set-back", hinder my creative drive. I literally and physically have been moving things away from the problem and in the process, i am, beginning the unpacking, and at last, after five years, settling back in, back home which I never seemed to have time to do before now.... I am making time. Somehow, I am finding positivity, which has been essential these past few weeks, which have been crammed with so much sadness and loss, for so many friends, family and people we know and love. It could easily be a time for despair, but I made a promise to my own Dear Mother, before she passed away and a vital element of that promise is that I am going to continue being creative and productive. So I have been drawing and painting every day since the start of the year, this seems to generate even more creative energy and I am a buzz with ideas and inspiration.

27 December 2021

As one born in the brighter days of the year, for me, the late spring, is very much my time. I thrive on the bright early dawns and watching the regrowth in the garden. Nothing better than the sense of optimism in the air. But, must admit, I am actually terrified of the dark days of the late autumn and winter. Therefore, the forced effort of challenging the sheer lack of light induced activity, really tires me out. This is a recognized phenomenon known a seasonally affective disorder (SAD). I certainly suffer in these darker days. I have often considered a sort of hibernation. But there is happily so much of celebration to enjoy and a huge amount of fun be gleaned from being active and engaging with life at this time of year. There is no way that I am going to be denied the chance of demonstrating my social being. What miss a party, even if it is a virtual effort! On Tuesday (21st December), just after 4pm, eight minutes (I think), we had the Winter Solstice, when everything gets sort of reset and our planet is tilted back, in it's alignment to capture the light again. For me that change was profound and significantly felt. Certainly worthy of celebration in itself...I felt revived and woke with enough energy, on Wednesday, to get up and on preparing for the next few days. Days, that I was, earlier, in fact dreading... Especially as this was to be my second Christmas Day, without my Dear Mother... So with her, very much, in my mind and an incredible determination, I managed to get through it... However, I did feel the second one has been even harder than the first., The reality of the passing of time has been highlighted. The big question is, does the passing of time actually heal the pain of grief?... Can that question ever be answered? Then the great comfort of happy memories come to the forefront of the mind. I have a huge volume of memories that really keep me going. The other thing that I wish to be able to achieve is my idea to lead others in the happy encouragement of creative pursuits during the dark winter days that I have referred to. To this end, I really had hoped, before now, to have established what I call, "art, craft, nibble and dribble" social evenings, thus bringing together like minded creative people. The idea being, to enjoy the making of good things, in an inclusive, supportive, social and communal atmosphere. This is something I wish to achieve, once we are socially permitted to be able to do so.

Oh some restless thoughts at mid-night, on The Feast of Stephen. KB.

7 December 2021

For host of reasons, I am finding the most vivid of memories of my childhood come rushing to the surface of my mind...In my last post here my memories of the happy little house where I was born. Warmth, laughter and excellent cooking were the features that prevailed there and, of course, got taken to our next home. In these minds eye reruns it seems every frame is filled with people...our family and friends. The big dining table in the living room, was always set for "the extra guest" or more, and the places always filled.

The meals in our home were well planned and expertly cooked by our mother. She had studied dietetics and nutrition, in Glasgow. Everything she did was well managed. Back in those early days, the 1960s, I remember, the meals related very much to shopping trips and the supply and availability of items of food. The week was punctuated by the trip or trips to town.

Tuesday was very important as it was Family Allowance Day, so that was the main food shopping day of the week. There was a regular and frequently used bus service, at the end of the road and we were very lucky as our family had use of a car. Our mother had passed her driving test just before her eldest child was born. She would often comment that this gave her a great sense freedom and confidence...She was to enjoy driving until she suffered a stroke, in February 1994, less than a year after the death of our father and granny (her mother)...Some days she would have the use of the car, driving our father to his work and then being able to get about all day. I remember from times not at school, Tuesday mornings involved a lot of queuing. First at the Post Office, in Francis Street, to collect the essential Family Allowance, lots of women met here every week, and then followed the same pattern down the street. To queue again in W. J. MacDonald's, "Willie John the Butchers", which usually followed the Post Office. Here our mother purchased enough meat and dairy produce to provide several meals. As I explained in an earlier description we did not have a croft or life stock, so we were rather deplete in the experience of such fundamental aspects of our rural life, though we did have hens that provided a wonderful daily supply of eggs. Butcher shops, in the 1960s were still literally raw places, with blood dripping animal carcasses hanging on meat hooks, from wall mounted rails. The floor covered in saw dust. They were none the less clean. "Willie John's", has been transformed over the yeas, but it is still a great local shop now in different ownership. We still go there.

Now I vividly remember Willie John MacDonald himself, indeed a substantial man in every way, he was very fond of my Dear Mother. They always quoted Robert Burns poetry to each other when he served her. I remember he wore a brown overall coat, under his blue and white striped apron.

A quick dart across the then two way traffic of Francis Street, got us to Hugh Matheson's, or Forsythe's, baker and grocer emporium. Here before the time of pre-packaging everything was slice cut or scale measured. Such shops actually smelt genuinely and beautifully of fresh product, rarely found in the vacuum packed era of today.

Further along, in Point Street, there was another such shop, Malcolm MacLean's, "Calum Sgiathanach", baker and grocer, later known as The Stag Baker's, after it's bakery relocated, to Stag Road, in late 1960s or early 1970s. Their shop in Point Street fascinated me as a child, as right throughout the year it had twisting tinsel decorations hanging from the ceiling. I was also aware of multi coloured glass in the doors and windows.

Because she baked herself, shop bought cakes were not ever on our mother's list. The only exception was if she spotted a special variety called "Kunsel"(?) cakes, rich chocolate confections, which I have not seen for decades. There would of course be purchase visits to many of the other shops in the town and we were well served by traveling shops and vans. But Tuesday morning established itself as the practical time for the main shopping for food.