Jacks of all Trades,

The issue of council tax is one that the Scottish Parliament plans to discuss. The SNP have put forward the idea of an income-based tax to replace council tax. The Liberal Democrats also believe in an income-based tax but their ideas on who should regulate the rate of tax differ from the SNP (local council or central government). Labour and the Conservatives support the council tax, but say they'd make it cheaper for pensioners.

I reckon it's a tricky issue. In the income-based system, the rich would pay the most tax. The logic consists of the fact that they can afford to. I'm not sure people should be penalised for being successful but at the same time, they ought to feel proud to give back to the people (they ought to feel aggrieved if this money is wasted).

From observations of my own street, I think I would support the council tax. I don't believe that people who make an effort to find employment and work hard for their families should subsidise layabouts and benefit cheats. The council tax is a fair system as long as the council delivers value for money; everyone pays the same and they all should have access to a quality service.

It's an issue for an economist.

Drivers on the Sopping Road,

It has rained all day. There are puddles all over our country roads.

I finished work at the yooni around 4pm, I had finished pushing the back the boundaries of science for the day. It was a reasonably smooth day, except for another run-in with the man who mans the store. I have never had a problem-free transaction with this awkward fellow. He still refuses to admit that I exist and will not allow me to charge anything to my account, every encounter leads to me finally submitting and charging goods to my colleague’s account.

I left early to package the broken laptop so it could be sent for repair. I like driving to the speed limit and I like putting the car into 5th gear; once it’s there, driving becomes simpler. I grew cranky about an R reg Fiesta travelling at 35mph in front of me (barely enough for 5th gear), I was reluctant to overtake because the roads were laden with water. I never want to make the mistake of aquaplaning whilst overtaking again. I eventually rid myself of it on one of my usual overtaking spots that was safely dry.

For some reason, I concentrated very hard on my driving tonight. Bob Dylan was on the CD player. A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall he sang; meaningless words when later uttered by Bryan Ferry.

Then I passed what was surely an accident that no one could have survived from, three cars had all stopped on the tight bend outside Craigrothie; one car had drivers in tears of distress, the other two had drivers on the phone. Around 20m inside the bend, upturned in a field, with smoke billowing from it, was a car. How it made it so far into the field, apparently without touching the ground (there was no sign of damaged crops), is a wonder. I drove past, I did as much as I could; I flashed my hazard warning lights to all oncoming traffic. On I went, feeling guilty about my frustration at the Fiesta driver, this lasted until I was stuck behind a Skoda Fabia travelling so slow that I had to go into 3rd gear on a 60 road.

If I had left work earlier, perhaps if the man in the store could have conducted himself properly and we could have foregone the debate, I could have been part of the accident. Driving is dangerous. It’s anarchy out there.

Fans of the Commuter,

Life never becomes easy, which is silly because we don’t know why we’re here.

I’m sick of hearing or reading about things that are good for the environment and being told what we should do. We should just start doing the right things and then we wouldn’t have to tolerate all these messages, although the programme showing the amount of human debris recovered from albatrosses was worthwhile, there was everything; golf balls, lighters, toothbrushes etc; all our waste ends up inside albatrosses in Hawaii. There has been a shock development on the recycling front at home.

I wrote a pertinent review of Boxer by The National but my laptop ceased to function before it could be uploaded. Sony will now have to fix it. I would have gone on to review Armchair Apocrypha by Andrew Bird and discuss how he is like Ruttiger Wainwright without the annoying bits. I need my laptop because it has Microsoft (Hiii Bill) Office 2007 on it and all my files are in that format, they are mauled (Hiii Bill) in the conversion to earlier versions on the other computers I have access to.

I seem to have list of tasks that is too long to ever work through. I also have no idea what to do for a holiday once I do complete some of them. I’ve never taken a holiday; in a sense, I’ve always been on duty. I don’t even think I need to go on holiday, I think I just need to find somewhere affordable to move into. A change would be as good as a holiday.

I can’t help being cranky.

Siderated Mariners Spending Cold Days in the Birdhouse,

I did The Twilight Sad a disservice that they did not deserve by not reviewing Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters during its week of release.

It’s really big; most tracks have rumbling and thundering keyboards in them. The music was composed first and then the words were fitted to the pieces later. I wonder if without the vocals, this would sound like Explosions in the Sky, for Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters is created from guitars, bass, drums, effects pedals and keyboards amongst other stuff, and is similarly dramatic in the way that it swirls dizzily in a maze of noise.

The lyrics are very abstract. The songs of The Twilight Sad have very bleak titles. Bits and pieces protrude from the songs and they seem to be memories of difficult social situations projected back rather emotively in what is a rather striking Scottish accent. “Why do they come when you’re always raining?” is from Walking for Two Hours, it means little, who is this person who is raining? Do I rain? “Head up, dear, the rabbit might die” from And She Would Darken the Memory, the song is about a partner who is a pain in the neck, but why does the rabbit have to die? I’m now paranoid because I’m told in That Summer at Home, I Had Become the Invisible Boy that “they’re sitting around the table and talking behind your back”. Actually, it’s all good and very real. I’d have this album no other way, I’ve been waiting for it for months.

It’s a shame that someone in the Amazon review has described this album as “Groundskeeper Willie-esque”. What a numpty!

Friers of Fractal Minds,

I feel that I’ve had so little time this week. I haven’t had the energy to do anything with it. I’ve only managed to see Scotland Today once this week, and such is my luck, on that occasion, it was the hugely irritating Suzi Mair who was presenting the “News From the East” section of the programme.

I cannot complain about my ailments. They’re arguably self-induced; from too much football. Mother’s broken foot trumps them. Brother and Father continue as normal, they have made no changes in their schedule to accommodate her misfortune.

The attitude of people to recycling continues to annoy me. I believe the example of our house is probably all too common. Despite the fact that I’ve stated that I would manage the situation, the rest of them don’t care for it. I recycle things that I find around the house. I don’t know if they realise that I do. They throw my collections of bottles and cans that I usually take to the recycling points (which are at either end of our street) into the main landfill waste bin. Father seems rather proud of the fact that we can limit our waste to just one wheelie bin load for the two weeks between collections. He seems to ignore the only reason why we can do this: me recycling. It’s almost secret recycling, they won’t help me and when they find the collections they complain and dump it in with the rubbish to go to landfill. He says waste segregation is a good idea in principle but that it’s too difficult for people to do. I can’t understand this; there are recycling points everywhere. My main motivation for recycling is my hatred of landfills; they are hideous and they stink. We really have to limit the number of these that we’re going to need. I’d hate to live nearby one. Of course, there are obvious energy-saving benefits in recycling. Regeneration of metal from recycled materials consumes about 10% of the energy that mining ores and conversion to metal does. I’m most concerned about wasting metal.

I’m also really sick of plastic carrier bags. I’d ban them. They’re forced upon us by over-zealous checkout assistants. I tried to tell the assistant last week that I did not want a bag and that I’d manage without one. She argued that I would need one specifically to keep the just baked rolls that I’d bought warm. I think we should ban them for a while, at least until we all work our way through the collections of them that we have at home.

It’s anarchy out there. A snapped shinpad sustained in Wednesday’s less than appealing match is only a small piece of evidence. No one cares anymore. I went to have a puncture fixed on the front left wheel of my car. After telling them that it was the front left to be sorted, and also replying to the question they asked to make sure of what wheel was to be repaired, I was told to come back in 30 minutes. Upon my return, the puncture was not sorted as they did not know which wheel had a puncture in it because the pressures were the same in all the tyres. Obviously, I’m not going to drive around with a flat tyre, thus I had been repeatedly maintaining an air pressure suitable to drive with. I had to re-iterate that the front left wheel was damaged and wait further. Shoddy service seems to be everywhere.

The worst is yet to come.

Forewarned Citizens of Tomorrow

It’s been a while since the elections. I am very disappointed with the result, yet I’m grateful that the best the SNP have achieved is a minority government. My main concern with the Scottish National Party is not the issue of independence; eventually Scotland will need to be independent because we have a different way of life, this probably requires different governance. I dislike them because they have no ideas, they are a single issue party, and the rest of their policies are taken from a variety of other parties and pasted together in a flawed manner. A minority government situation should limit the damage that they can do, not that they would try to make any changes to Scotland, their stances on every issue change from day to day. They’ve spent 8 years saying the exact opposite of everyone else, no matter how stupid it makes them seem. On the personality front, in my opinion, they are the most obnoxious, arrogant, smarmy and sarcastic bunch in the parliament. I don’t regard Alex Salmond as a respectable ambassador for our nation. That they SNP regard the support of Sean Connery as an asset is symptomatic of their ways; his opinions change like the wind, furthermore, he’s a tax exile, it does not matter to him what mess Scotland is in.

Liberal Democrat leader, Nicol “passionate about young people” Stephen must be applauded for holding his ground on coalition deals. He said he wouldn’t enter into one with the SNP and so far, that remains the case. In many ways, it’s a rather suicidal stance; with so few MSPs, the Liberal Democrats really need to be part of a coalition to maintain their position at the forefront of Scottish politics thus giving themselves a chance at the next election.

What is most regrettable is the eradication of the smaller parties. They brought a wider range of issues and opinions to the parliament. They were colourful and seemed to act more conscientiously. They seemed more forthright in their actions. I hope we don’t forget about them, because in four years time, I want to see them return.

Minority governments and coalitions are foreign to UK politics. Soon we’ll adapt and see that they’re for the best, I would hope that what comes of these situations is MSPs voting for what they believe in as individuals and not toeing party line strictly, (having said that, they’ll still be searching for that SNP party line).

Finally, we lost our Labour MSP Christine May, she’s been replaced by the SNP’s Tricia Marwick. Christine May used to get on the same carriage of the same train to Embra as me each morning. She seemed like a good person and she’s probably an undeserving victim of Toby Blair’s foreign policy, but I don’t know this for sure, perhaps Tricia Marwick also displays good train etiquette.

Sedulous Cranes Depositing Kine,

It’s easy to forget about Mull Historical Society and its good steward, Colin MacIntyre. He’s originally from far away in Mull. He hasn’t released an album for a while. His records are played on the radio only very rarely. However, upon remembering Mull Historical Society and digging out Loss, Us or This is Hope, the mystery over why anyone should forget this pop genius begins to puzzle.

The Mull Historical Society tag has been dropped and Colin MacIntyre is now appearing as “Colin MacIntyre”. He’s currently playing a run of shows ahead of the promised release of his next album, The Water. I went to see him with his band at Cabaret Voltaire in Embra. Cabaret Voltaire is in the cellars and caves of Blair Street. Blair Street is lovely. The advantage of Blair Street is that it’s not the only street in Embra and that there are others nearby. The venue is small and it has a really attractive schedule. It could be used as a model for the Rothes Halls, it would be under my regime.

The set was made up of a lot of new songs, but many of the classics were included too. As soon as Colin started with Peculiar, the mystery re-surfaced. I didn’t know what to expect of this gig but I knew immediately that it was going to be a treat. He sings with such clarity that it’s easy to follow the tales of characters – real or fictional – who feature in his songs. The songs offer an accurate comment on society and real-life situations, the lyrics aren’t vague metaphors that blur the meaning, obscure incidents and send songs veering to the middle of the road. For me, it’s perfect pop.

Be My Saviour was the first new song played, it’s not ground-breaking, but the lyric, “Have you always been afraid of what the world can do?”, is typical of Mull Historical Society. It unites people who are like me, people who care enough to think about things and aren’t completely selfish. It has a touch of Arcade Fire’s Wake Up about it, it’s created by the use of “Oooooohhhh-oooooohhhh-ooooohhh-ooooohhh”.

Barcode Bypass is a classic, an epic. I’ve yet to be in the situation where I have to work in the supermarket or grocers full-time in order to survive. It’s a sad indictment of capitalism and I’m sure that there are people just like the man in the song who turns to drugs. Yet again, it’s the kind of pop song that should be on the airwaves to make people think. The same could apply to its sequel, Supermarket Strikes Back; they’re both quality pop songs with great instrumentation.

Stalker is the forthcoming single, it’s a pointed song with another of these characters in it, who definitely exist, who become obsessed and won’t go away. Famous for Being Famous is another new song, it’s fast and angry – it’s about attention-starved nonentity celebrities, obviously.

They played the singles Watching Xanadu, Animal Cannabus and Final Arrears; these all went down well. There were a few diehards at the front, I never imagined Mull Historical Society would have a hardcore following. They did “reach out their hands”.

One of the final songs was the new album’s title track, The Water. It’s much mellower, almost folk song and importantly, it has that special Scottish quality. I don’t know how to describe “that special Scottish quality” but it exists and those with a keen ear will know it.

The encore consisted of a new song that is apparently a duet with “a female vocalist”, the crowd had to act as the absent partner. It’s a typical idiosyncratic gem. The band finished with I Tried, a classic from Loss. This was an excellent performance from a man/band that is often overlooked yet still remains a national treasure.

On a more serious note, I have lost the full capability of my ears. There were moments during the gig when the volume was painful. Two days later, they are still in agony and ringing. Hearing loud noises makes my ears hurt. At the same time, I can’t hear some quieter sounds. Am I a duffer? When should I seek medical assistance?

Gannet Beheaders Scheduled for the Cobblers,

I’m sceptical of 3for2 deals or the like at Ottakars, Waterstones and WH Smith. I fear that everyone will end up reading the same books because it’s always the same titles that seem to be included in the promotion, nonetheless, it’s hard not to be sucked in. I’ll see one book that I want, somehow one becomes three. They’ve won and I’ll have a stockpile of books that I’ll take months to get through.

I always judge a book by its cover. Findings by Kathleen Jamie has a magnificent image of a peregrine falcon on its cover, although it does make the bird seem larger than it would be in reality. I was also rather voyeuristic when I chose this book, I wanted to know where Kathleen lived because I wanted to know where I would see peregrine falcons in the Kingdom of Fife.

Kathleen Jamie lives in the Kingdom of Fife and Findings is an eloquent account of what she sees in everyday life. Every day is not retold, that would be tiresome, it’s more like The Bellyaches, special days are conveyed or the story is picked up and a short series of days are recounted. I’d love to write a book like this, the author simply observes, recounts and ponders what she sees. Initially, the falcons nesting nearby are the focal point along with some ospreys (ospreys in the Kingdom, remarkable) and they are referred to as Kathleen goes about her life, looking after the family. Further on, other wildlife takes precedence as Kathleen travels around Scotland. It’s a great idea for a book and it’s well executed. My version would probably focus on horrible neighbours, the postman, the window cleaner and the seagulls and starlings that defecate on the washing. It’s simple. The book resembles a great blog, the reader can dip in and out, it is meaningful and meaningless. Kathleen Jamie has a fantastic ability to contextualise what she sees and relate it simply and clearly. Findings should make us pay more attention and live life at a better pace. This book should be more useful in England.

Good Pigeons of Yesteryear,

I think this is the first time in 2007 that I have hailed an album as a work of genius. I mean it, I really do. The album in question is called No Shouts No Calls, I’d be happier if there was a comma in the title, but the band that we have to thank are Electrelane. According to MyArse, they are a band based in Brighton, consisting of four ladies. This is their third album, which means that I must find out about the previous two. They have toured with some other bands like Arcade Fire.

This album has to be heard to be believed, there’s patches of Stereolab (but slower, done with instruments and English), that Arcade Fire sound (anyone with strings gets lumped in that category) that everyone is going for at the minute and at times, the album verges upon classic 1980s-style jangly indie-pop. The keyboard playing is supreme, I can’t quite identify the tune that it sounds like in parts, I keep coming back to Groovin’ with Mr Bloe. The vocals are meaningful; drawn-out and yearning. Everyone should be owning and playing this album, yet I have only heard Electrelane on the radio three times, I decided to follow them up after the first time. To The East is a strong contender for the single of the year, list makers should take note, “the east means so many things”. This album is an instant success, in my head anyway.

Another album that I’ve recently purchased, on the basis of hearing it played in Fopp, is The Pirate’s Gospel by Alela Diane. It’s a re-release with extra tracks, on a different record label and for the British Isles. It’s another case of mystery over why I’ve never heard of Alela before. This is a truly wonderful album and for as good as Joan As Policewoman and Joanna Newsom are, Alela Diane walks all over them.

Resolute Budgerigar Heading for Windows,

England. If I was English, I wouldn’t put up with it.

I have returned from another international business trip, the meeting was held in Nottingham, England. The meeting comprised of a vast spectrum of people; some characters therein.

I don’t think that I committed many major blunders. In through the nose, out through the mouth, don’t hit him.

I gave a small presentation on a simple, but undervalued topic. There was a heckler, of whom I dealt with. I don’t fear presenting work to an audience. I don’t mind crashing and burning.

I feel uncomfortable in England. The pace of life is wrong. The volume of life is wrong. The pragmatism that rules Scotland is in short supply.

They do traffic jams in England. We would never dream of this kind of behaviour.

Having said that, I did steal a man’s toast, he accepted my apology. My thoughts when I saw the toast were that the hotel staff would constantly be toasting bread such that toast would be sitting primed in the toaster for guests. Apparently, guests have to wait and toast their own bread. It wouldn’t happen under my regime. In through the nose, out through the mouth, don’t hit him.

I miss Scottish television and Scotland Today, the news in East Midlands seems to be about stabbings, arson in Sherwood Forest and an osprey. The root of their problems might be that the taxi drivers don’t know where they’re going.