Grapplers Missing Picture Winters,

Roll up your sleeves for winter!

People of words and little importance seem to have a great effect on how days unfold. The ability to be accommodating is dying out. Driving is periods of boredom when I mull over the events that piled up on me like the larch needles on the road.

I had to photocopy a form for one of the office staff, normally, she’d do it but I guess I had disturbed her from more pressing work so I headed along to the photocopier and was the victim of a paper jam. Rather than try to dismantle a photocopier, I popped into the main office next door and asked the only secretary there if she could help me, and this is what made me cranky, they huffed and puffed her way through with me to the photocopier, apologetically and in a self-deprecating way I said to my reluctant photocopy saviour, ‘And I’m meant to be the scientist…’, but she grunted, ‘Well, I’m not a scientist.’, so I stood in awkward silence whilst she tore. She was cranky but there was no need to be contagious.

I’m the king of improvisation and my protégé is learning this slowly but his brand of makeshift lacks belief. His pessimism and feeling of hopelessness makes my patience feel improper and obscene. At the opposite end of the scale, I received some good news – something for my CV – and I was expected to whoop but I disappointed the messenger by accepting the news with the pragmatism that I treat everything with.

The Friday lab class are unlucky, I seem to be in charge of them despite my junior position within the chain of responsibility. I run around trying to ensure the health and safety of the class whilst gaining good results but the staff member in charge sits and watches me. After staring at a dripping tank creating a dangerous puddle for three hours, she rose to tell me off because one of the class was wearing tights and unsuitable shoes. I’m well paid for my endeavours but there’d be less broken glass with a little more support.

Autumn seemed to happen all of a sudden for me and it depressed me, perhaps it took a windy day for me to notice the leaves had wilted and fallen. Autumn should be a slow time of wistfulness in which to indulge. If time would slow, I could concentrate on me, I’m not on a bench reading a book, enjoying a rainbow over the harbour; I’m just dealing with the consequences, and, possibly, wearing a jumper.

Circumscribers of Astringent Tendancies,

Around the time I was obsessed by noctilucent clouds, I was told that the Scottish sky was beautiful and lately, I’ve come to agree. This morning, I didn’t have to look outside to understand this; it was on the BBC local news behind Scottish newsreader, Catriona Shearer, although it might have been a case of ‘red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning’, I thought it was nice.

The autumnal mornings are here and I’ve consulted the bank of woolly jumpers. The weather has been mostly calm apart from the windstorm of a few weeks ago; having been dispatched to deepest East Lothian to take part in a football match in its midst, I had to mount the pavement to drive around a fallen tree on one route used whilst lost. Satellite navigation is a brilliant concept but useless in practice if the co-pilot decides to argue with the direction angel.

The weeks pass, they pass in the same way and despite consciously trying to do something different, the time passes too quickly and in the torrent of time, I can only react the same way I always do. I stepped out to do something culturally significant; I went to Embra to buy records, I enjoy the train ride and it’s also an ideal time to read. I wonder if the train station attendant at Kirkcaldy is playing a game with discount railcard holders, I ask for a ticket and say that I have a railcard (a Young Persons card) ergo I pay the fare with a discount of one third the price, she says the cost, it makes sense to me, I hand over the money, she gives me tickets and I put them in my pocket without caring. The ticket inspector asks to see my ticket, I hand it over and he asks, ‘Where is your child?’ and confusion ensues. The attendant must do this deliberately; it sets the inspectors up for a few good wisecracks, she must think I’ll give him any old discount – family, senior citizen, pregnant lady, meteorologist - that’ll teach him from taking disadvantage of Scotrail discount schemes. My missing child was a better problem than my lost ‘age rejuvenation pills’.

I stepped out of the rat race to do two good deeds on Sunday, one person will never know the benefits of the results, the other good deed was nearly undone by death. I saw an associate on a bridge walking home and I pulled over to pick them up, on delivering them home, I was faced with a motorcyclist, of the helmetless ned variety, illegally speeding towards me as I passed some parked cars. Thankfully, they managed to stop, I had done all I could to slow and pull towards a tiny opening at the side.

One of my first favourite songs was Wide Open Sky by Goldrush, I’m sure it was a Record of the Week on Mark and Lard’s Biggest Show. I’m reminded of it when I think of the colours.