It’s been a quiet sort of a week. Wifey and small daughter were back in Scotland for the half term holiday. That left Snuggs the wonder dog, Squeak and I to fend for ourselves in Dubai.

To say I was a bit envious of the girls going back to Scotland, would be an understatement. Gutted is probably closer to the mark.  But we three boyzees made the best of it. The animals didn’t really care as long as they were fed. And walked in Snugg’s case. As for me. I had work to occupy me.  At least the girls had fun. By the sound  of it, it was quite a sociable half term holiday, but there was also some work to take care of. One task in particular interested me so much, I made popcorn and watched from over 3500 miles away.

Bye Bye Trees

Our garden in Scotland is quite mature. That means we have some very large,  very old trees in the garden. I like trees. I am not overly fond of the rooks that have populated a bunch of them. Noisy brutes. They also love to decorate the cars. Usually just after they have been cleaned. Most unpleasant it is.

Rooks aside,  it is nice having the trees, but sometimes they need to be managed. Sadly, we had a larch that was rotting at the base and in danger of falling over. There was also a scots pine that was a bit one sided and swaying alarmingly in the high winds.  Wifey had also decided that a cluster of cypress trees were too big and blocking out too much light. So the Tree surgeons were summoned and it was goodbye trees.

I’m a Lumberjack and I’m OK

I hate losing trees, but it had to be done. And it was quite fascinating watching the guys in action.  I was determined I

would watch, so set up the security cams to capture the action.  You obviously need a head for heights. And an ability to juggle chain saws with one hand. That said, their HSE was top notch ( if there are any fun police out there).  They started with the old Scots pine.  Over 150 years old we reckoned. It took just a few hours to reduce it to firewood. My job at a Christmas to split it into logs to season.

Next went the cypress trees. I am going to miss them, but wifey and small daughter are planning a fairy garden around the ‘stumps. I must admit I thought there were three of them. It appears there were four. Hence forward, they shall be known as ‘the stumpies’. They are now just  more firewood for the axe.

The larch was last to go. Yet more chopping work in store. Last jobs were to remove any dead branches from the remaining trees and best of all, get rid of the rooks nests.  I bet that was a pleasant job. Hopefully, with them gone,  it should be quieter next year and I might get a break from cleaning and recleaning cars. Unless then swine rebuild their nests of course. Then it will be revenge time. I’d better buy extra shampoo.

The guys were very professional and did a great job. They also did a great job of stacking up the timber into neat piles as well as removing all the shavings.  If you are in need of any tree surgery, please contact me for details as I can heartily recommend them.

 

 

The Songs

Meanwhile back in Dubai, life was pretty routine. Work, home, dog walking, bed. The fun never stopped.  But, it seemed like a great opportunity to take advantage of the peace and quiet and try recording some songs.

Without a band to play with at the moment, I need a musical fix.  I do have a home recording set up, with a vast library of ‘virtual’ instruments. There is also a collection of actual guitars, basses, drums and keyboards at home. So, with nothing else to do, seemed like a good idea.

I am the first to admit, when it comes to mixing, I am a complete amateur. However, I have a very talented friend called

Wolf. He is a professional Sound Engineer and Producer.  We worked on some projects together when we both lived in Jakarta and have stayed in touch. A slight drawback is Wolf is thousands of miles away in Germany. But, courtesy of Dropbox, we can swap huge files and in this way, Wolf has been ably assisting me.  Well a bit more than assisting to be honest, but let’s not split hairs.  We had a couple of song ideas to play with. My lyrics are horrible. I like rock music. My favorite gendre is Prog Rock, and  I have headbanged my way through some heavy metal in my time. So, I find it disappointing that my lyrics are all so cheesy and twee.  But, this was primarily a training opportunity and memory refresher. And hence, ’Famous’ and ‘ Near Me’ were born.

Once all the individual channels were recorded, I attempted a mix and forwarded to Wolf to critique. Disappointingly, He wasn’t exactly complimentary.  Undeterred,  several iterations followed and, thanks to some fantastic coaching and advice from Wolf, there are now two passable songs. Apart from the lyrics, that is.   Wolf is great at knowing what is required to ‘add’ to a song. He has some great little touches and offered lots of tips.  I know he would make a far better job than me and make them sound fantastic (bar the lyrics). Anyway you will be able to judge for yourselves soon, as I hope to add them to the music pages  in the next few days. Be kind.

I really enjoyed working with Wolf again. I also really enjoyed getting back into the music production software. It actually starting making sense. The time just flew by and now, suitably inspired I have some more ideas I want to try.  Who knows, one day I might even manage a half decent Prog Rock classic.

 

 

The Art Feature

When not manning the ‘virtual’ mixing desk, I used the quiet time to write about my chum Charlie Roy. See last weeks Art Series post if you missed it. Charlie is a very talented artist and I am pleased to say has had a commission enquirey on the back of the article.  I hope to feature more artists in the future. Local and not so local.

Wifey is a bit taken aback by this sudden interest in art. She has always been that way inclined. Me, far less so. In fact, it was always with great reluctance that I got dragged to anything arty.

The Damian Hirst Experience

When we lived in Qatar, Gillian took me to see a Damian Hirst exhibition. I have to say, given Mr Hirsts

reputation, I was mildly curious.

The exhibition, something of a retrospective featuring how his work has developed, was called Relics and was housed in a boxy building opposite the Islamic Art Museum.

As I walked between exhibit, Wifey noticed my mouth was slightly open and I was wearing a perplexed expression, which was growing deeper the more we saw.   We passed between the bisected shark, past the beach ball held up by a column of air, above a collection of knives. Past the giant ash tray. There was even a cabinet with several shelves, each full of used cigarette ends. It was on loan from the Armani Institute or some such. My favorite, most mind boggling exhibit, was a medicine cabinet, complete with an assortment of medicines. In fact there were several of these all subtly different.

There were lots more even madder exhibits. A table and chair with a box of fags on the table, all encased in a Perspex box. Then a second, almost but not quite identical installation.  A hunk of rotting meat with a million flies on it that then went to die in a separate but adjoining box.  It took time, but eventually I stopped frowning and started smiling. I finally began to realize just what the artist was doing.  It was like an epiphany.

He was having a laugh, that’s what he was doing. What a complete and utter con.  Best of all, I stopped being vaguely horrified by the exhibits and started weatching and listening to the people there. I recognized the looks of vague incomprehension on the faces of several similar minded souls. But it was the utter, pompous drivel being spouted by some of the more ‘learned’ audience that really had me amused.

 

Art Speak

‘Oh yes, you can see the way the artist brings a radical unreality to the viewer to challenge their own preconceived hierarchy of cultural values.’  Oh yah absolutely. He propels you into a seemingly infinite progression of possible interpretations whilst simultaneously forcing you into an evolving disconnect from your innermost self”.  

What does that even mean? It’s a medicine cabinet for crying out loud.

So I decided to try it out myself. I came accross a fire extinguisher between two rooms.  I stood in front of it, cupped my chin in my hand, tilting my head slightly and opined in a stage whisper, ‘ Oh gosh, I can really see the simplicity of the artists thought process as he forces you to consider the inevitable futility of mixing the elements of fire and water. And yet without the one does the other truly have meaning and purpose. I find it a tremendously moving yet humbling piece, questioning my own value and that of my exhibition ticket.

I was not overly surprised to turn and find a small crowd had gathered behind me and were nodding their heads in agreement.  Oh god, we are all doomed.

 

 

We left shortly after this. To be more precise, I was ushered out by a mortified wifey, not even having the chance to pick up a souvenir at the concession shop. I could have owned an original reproduction postcard of a Damian Hirst spot, just one spot mind you, for the knockdown price of 300 quid.   I seriously considered setting up shop outside and selling the contents of the waste bin. Genuine used fag butt as once looked at in  DH exhibition, yours for 50 quid. Bargain.

And Finally Folks

Its virtue signaling, political correctness gone mad time again. Two items really caught my attention this week.  I was horrified to discover I can no longer have man flu and use copious man size tissues to deal with the symptoms.   Apparently they are gender exclusive. So instead I can have a box of XL tissues to deal with my non gender specific influenza. And that doesn’t even  come close to adequately describing the totally debilitating condition that is ManFlu. There, I said it. Man flue is real.

‘The second was some snow flake at Southampton University who wants to paint over a mural depicting a degree award  to the unknown soldier, in honor of the 1st World War academics who fought in the Great  War. It seems it’s not pc as it’s all white males. God give me strength. This from the president of the students union.  In fairness, she did make a subsequent apology on Twitter, which did seem heartfelt. But what a shame we live in a time when this type of irritating virtue signaling is becoming the norm and common sense has disappeared up its own radical unreality to quote my artsy friends.

Bye for now.