Wednesday, 17 February 2010


My returning blog honeymoon is over. 

No more a plethora of posts arriving easily.

Stray letters tumble but form not a word.

A post, a post is all I ask.

Might as well ask for a friend.

Not happening at mo.

Not happening at all.

Familiar territory for me and long–suffering readers.

Somewhere, sometime a change but where ….

Trafigura will keep me going

But …..

Perhaps tomorrow …..


  1. So you made a post about your supposed inability to make a post... Hmm... philosophical... What next? Perhaps a post about the post that you made about your inability to make a post? I expect you will keep finding a way; but if not, remember to write a post telling us about it. However... the world is still waiting on the post about what happened when you tried swinging a golf club again. Or at the very least, a post about how you haven't been able to do that yet. Are you delaying? Afraid? Next time you are stalled on the blog, get the bloomin' clubs out man!

  2. Philosophy?

    Might as well analyse the philosophy behind leaving a suicide note.

    A struggle is a struggle is a fucking struggle.

  3. Well I climbed a hill this afternoon, which was at times a struggle. Nearly got myself caught in the wires of a complex double fence, with me bent double with nobody to witness my plight or offer any rescue other than a few bemused sheep, doubtless thinking "Why is that big daft bugger lying horizontal inside the wires of our scratching fence?", or perhaps they weren't thinking that at all. But getting out and climbing a hill or just walking a wee walk is generally a grand idea, I find. Unless you get stuck in
    a fence with nobody knowing where you are and no mobile phone signal available, of course.

  4. The fence wasn't electrified, was it?
    Mind you there's prob very little to damage.

    How do you know the sheep were bemused?

    Do you talk "sheep"?

  5. Should have added.

    Bloody cold here and there's a bug wending its way through the family. I'm suffering at mo: not so much that I need sympathy but enough to stop me moving my golf clubs.

  6. After the bug has gone you could get out and about with your camera it might give you some inspiration. Just a thought.

  7. Ah but a fine bit of metablogging Calum!

  8. Calum, I can recognise a bemused sheep even if I don't talk sheep. They clustered round a bit actually, so they could all look bemused together. For a moment I thought one of them might have been going to try to hump me, in a bizarre reversal of countryside legend. But I do talk sheep actually, because their language only has two words: Meeh... and Baaa... Both of which mean "I'm a sheep". They are not Nature's brightest of creations, although they did look a bit brighter than me during the five minutes when I was trapped with my back horizontal and my bum in the air in the bloody double-fence with lots of little protrusions to snag the unwary rambler. I could have got out pretty fast if I was prepared to accept cut skin and clothes - it was actually my intelligent ability to avoid that damage that necessitated taking some considerable time over the extraction.

  9. Andrew

    You have repeated your assertion that the sheep were bemused and you have not answered my question, "How did you know that they were bemused?"

    You go further. Now you say that sheep only have two words and each means, "I am a sheep". What arrogance you show!

    They might have been wondering how an alien to earth could ever manage to appear so stupid.

  10. But I did answer. I said "I can recognise a bemused sheep" That is how I knew they were bemused. Non-verbal communication Calum, it is powerful, and important. Also I am guessing that you don't talk sheep, because if you did you would appreciate there was no arrogance at all in my comment, merely translation. There is so much you don't understand.

  11. He who has walked out with a ewe in Broadford knows much about sheep.

  12. And the pretty ewe doubtless knows much about you. Probably just as well she only has two words available to tell her tale. Broadford's nice though (although I found the sheep a bit common).

  13. I didn't say she was "pretty".

    I may publish the story some day.
    But how did you know that the sheep in Broadford were common?

    This has the makings of Flanders and Swann, "And it was on a Monday morning the gasman came to call"

  14. If she was a ewe she was pretty, surely? Or was I imposing a subjective opinion there that may not be shared by others? Even the rams are quite pretty, I think

    And I didn't say that I knew that the sheep in Broadford were common, I said I found them a bit common. Knowledge versus experience. There is difference.

    Some of the girls in Portree are very nice though.

  15. If we keeping going on this line some of our non-Scottish visitors will really believe that there is nothing to do in Scotland other than sheep.

    Little do they know.

  16. There is also the golf Calum, and the whisky. So when the sun shines we have everything required for a perfect day.

  17. A post that gets 16 comments is a fabulous post...although I really don't know what you and Andrew are talking about. No sheeps in Toronto...except in election times, when one voter stupidly follows the other voters, and sends the same mediocrity to power!

  18. Claudia Let's push the comment nos even higher.

    Andrew and I are indulging in a bit of verbal and, I assume, good-natured rutting.

    This come from being daft and having egos which keep reminding us that we can go one better than the other.

    Is that right, Andrew?

    I had an interesting typo there: having talked about ego I started my question to Andrew with "Id" rather than "Is".

  19. I have no ego. I just selflessly try to help other people, in the knowledge that I, myself, am nothing. This is sometimes mistaken as insufferable arrogance.

    As for my "Id", I think the government has dropped plans to give me an Id card, so I don't suppose I have an Id either. Freud was a Fraud, though, I hasten to add (in my humble ego-free opinion)