Musings

Random writings and occasional hyperbole

And slowly and surely…

And slowly and surely…

...they drew their plans against us! No, Drummore has not been invaded by Martians! It is, however, inching closer to having a working smithy in the village once more. Thanks to Glenda, the old Drummore Smiddy now contains an anvil again. It's a bit of a baby one...

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Well…that’s embarrassing…

Well…that’s embarrassing…

I think I've just discovered a wonderful way to give the old ego a bit of a reality check. If you happen to have a blog (or other online vehicle where you discuss your daily life, thoughts, doings and wotnots) and you ever find yourself thinking that you might be...

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Between the sea and the sky…

Between the sea and the sky…

Very occasionally, people ask me why I chose to move to Scotland (generally) and why I chose to move to the rather remote end of Galloway (specifically). Well, a full discussion of the various personal, political, social, economic and other assorted reasons could take...

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Let there be books…

Let there be books…

South-West Scotland has much to recommend it. First off, it's part of Scotland which is, itself, no bad thing at all. Second, it has some beautiful countryside, both along the coast (of which there is quite a lot) and inland. Third? Well, there are countless other...

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Underneath the spreading chestnut tree…

Underneath the spreading chestnut tree…

No, this isn't going to be a post about old nursery-rhyme songs, Winston Smith, Mr Charrington and 1984, apposite as that might be when it comes to current times and trends in UK and US politics. Instead, it's a reference to a poem by Longfellow, entitled "The Village...

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Always read the small print…

Always read the small print…

It's a good rule of thumb, reading the small print. Taking out a mortgage? Signing the employment contract for your new, executive suite, highly-paid job? Signing your multi-million pound major label record deal or assigning the Hollywood film rights to your best...

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(Anti-)Social Media…

(Anti-)Social Media…

Ah, Facebook. That dodgy doyen of data miners. The pernicious paragon of privacy invaders. The appalling accomplice of advert slingers. We all know what Facebook is like but, at some point, we've decided "Oh well, it's useful for keeping in touch with folks, so..." I...

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Finding a voice…

Finding a voice…

If I were to dig out all of the old posts that used to be on this blog, you would find a distinct pattern emerging. It's probably best described as extended periods of silence, punctuated by occasional short bursts of activity.  In fact, it got so bad at one point...

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The Clachanpluck Poems

The Clachanpluck Poems

I still seem to be stuck in poetry mode at the moment, although these little verses came about in a slightly different fashion.  It's all Facebook's fault. Well, actually, that's not quite true, it's all a guy called Phil McMenemy's fault. No, that's not entirely true...

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The Hills

The Hills

When you're on a roll, you're on a roll.  Yet another poem.  This one isn't dark, it isn't angsty and it isn't an airy-fairy exercise in writing some particular form or other, it's just a poem.  I suppose it might be in ballad form.  Or possibly something else...

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If I had known…

If I had known…

More poetry today - and this one is deliberately a little bit of an arty-farty exercise.  It's also another slightly dark one.  Well, maybe not dark, but a bit angsty and the kind of thing that a simpering 18th or 19th century poet-wannabe might have come up with...

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At the End

At the End

When not trying to dream up characters or plots or similar fictional devices (and when not being silly on Facebook or elsewhere) I sometimes try my hand at a bit of poetry.  Although it is often maligned for being "up its own bottom" or "arty-farty" (particularly when...

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