It's been awhile since I wrote on this here blog, so thought may as well tonight! Just going to ramble on about what matters to me and the way I see things, so continue reading if that's your want and go away and jump into a dry river bed from the moon if it's not!

There comes a time when the everyday becomes the everyday and personally I cant be arsed with that everydayness. Not that I am a drone of sameness in any shape or form, or so I like to believe! Neither up nor down grand old Duke of York style of crossroads is where its at!  It's just that imagination and energy are given for a reason to one and all and I've came to the conclusion that I have lost track of using my imagination and having any real energy to continue any snippets of genuine ideas that could break out a route to something new or something to add,  to either enjoy or share.

Maybe it's reaching the haloed 40 mark and I am encountering the first pangs of a tepid mid-life crisis that is driving me to as Fagin would say "review the situation" or maybe I'm just at the transition stage of change. I'm a exponent of change and hold firm beliefs that change is as el natural as breathing or singing in the bath! Now the importanto thing here is identifying what needs to change and then making it happen. I'm no fool in the listening game either and try make a living out of it, sometimes well, other times....! Strange then how hard it is to listen to  the wee voice constantly nagging inside myself saying "You gotta do something man, you gotta do something man, do it do it do it" That voice should always be there like an eternal loop of self motivational mantra that keeps you not only on your toes but merrily dancing on them.. I like to think mine has been on it's holidays for awhile, sipping cocktails in an exotic dreamland, playing a tunes of epic harmonic and evangelical quality from a golden harp! Well It's holiday's are over, harp man has come back revitalised and eager to be heard.

Apart from harp man's eternal gibbering, another sign of encroaching change is the way I have started to become extremely intolerant of my routine and the environment that it is played out in. The 5 times weekly commute to my work place has become a real torture and ordeal, so much so that I daily imagine murdering other people for trivial happenings that occur on the rat race conveyor  belt. A recent and regular example of this is the way that people behave whilst standing waiting on the train in the morning. I'd noticed that the simple act of standing waiting on a train and the procedure to board said train has become a serious game of chess!

Everyone strategically surveys there position, trying hard to look nonchalant and giving out a "ha what do i care" vibe when in fact everybody knows inside they are saying to the 5 or 6 people standing nearest to them on the platform trying to look the same " Ah yes, got a great spot here and see if any of these fuckers beside me even tries to get on that train before me then I will kill them, I will kill them effortlessly and gladly. No one will beat me to the seat, NO-ONE,  because I am the king, the master, the all powerful boarder of a train champion!"

On Tuesday I played the game!! Now usually the only thing I care about is getting on the train and not ending up beside an unwashed type or a greeting wean, these are usually my only rules that I try stick to but will not be to bothered if luck has it I have to stand beside either one for 5 mins! However something kinda snapped on Tuesday and I became a roaring, raging inside crazed boarder of the train type. On standing waiting on the train I though "fuck it Martin lets see who wants to PLAY! lets see who wants to PLAY" So talking myself up, "right your 6 foot tall, 16/17 stone, you look like a madman anyway, you have intelligence on your side, you once beat a computer at chess, this will be easy!"

Train arrives, and movement begins to the edge of the platform, the train has not even stopped yet and the game is well and truly on. I make my move, silently using my height and madman look I ease to the train door. However I slightly miss-judge the timing of the expected stopping point of the train and it glides past me by about 10 feet or so. The players see their chance and within a second they are about to win the first part of the game (best position of opening of the doors 10 points). Well no chance, not today there is a new player in the field and he will overcome all comers! I just kinda quick stepped it with my arm actually rubbing the side of train, using my speed as warning to others to "get out my way you bastard!" in silence they knew, I knew, I meant business! A few glances of "who does he think he is eh eh, he is craaaaazzzy, did you see that move there, better just let him get the position!" Result 10 points were mine all mine and I felt release!

Now this wee episode not only happened on the train but continued getting off the train, buying a subway ticket, going down the escalator, on the subway and walking up the stairs of the subway until I got to work where I came down from the chess horse and felt a slice like me again! Oh and for the record think I tallied up around 73 points!!

Comes a time and that time is evidently overheard and punching me in the face rather hard if a 20 minute trip to work can turn my natural state into one of caveman tendencies that imagines that perfectly acceptable human beings need to die horrible deaths for going to work!

Part of me yearns for the seemingly unreachable and I can tend to day dream in earnest and actually enjoy being a fully participating character in these dreams. However, realising that time is of essence and it's only the other wee voice of the Victorian Preacher of "thou shall not, thou shall be happy for what you got, thou should give praise that you are not dying of some horrible plague like disease" That is holding me back, then why listen to this pollutant in my head, why give credence to such a nasty piece of nothingness. As Billy Connolly so eloquently  puts it "thou fucking shall!"

If there is one thing I am certain about myself it's that I struggle big time with preconceived ideas of happiness. Its like the opening lines of "Trainspotting" (trains again!! wtf) Get a life, get a car, have 2.5 kids, watch mind numbing game shows ect etc.....! No one forces this preconceived ideals on me its just that its' everywhere you look and it's a traditional way of living for millions of folk. I have no issues with that what so ever, whatever floats your boat man. I'd be needing a life jacket and a supply of flares  and maybe a  packet of jammy dodgers as I know I'd sink into oblivion of numbness. Iv'e been there, Iv'e gone there, Iv'e lived there and Iv'e bombed there.

So what's the plan Stan? Well the next few months shall be a battle royal between HARP MAN and VICTORIAN PREACHER. This will be a real tester of the age old day and night legend, no holes barred a fight to the bitter end or a fight to the sweet beginning. A date has been set, a venue secured,the ring is being prepared, the tickets have sold out and the beers have been sprung. My limited amount of money is hedged on harp man!

Comes a time!

Seconds away round 1 "ding ding"

"mon the harp man!"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CraNirtmI50

"Ding Ding"

For those who read my wee dilemma I posted the other week on this here blog, you will know that I was preparing for an almighty battle with my conscious. This battle was to be played out in the guise of a boxing ring with 3 central characters. "HARPMAN" the voice of imagination, newness, energy, soulfulness, meaning, a devil may care and can do attitude to everything. Against "VICTORIAN PREACHER" the voice of sameness, dull, boring, sloth like, cautious, numb, has a predictable outlook and no can do attitude to everything. Lastly there is me "THE REFEREE" in the middle, the advocate, judge, decision maker and needs the others to show what they got until a clear winner is apparent  to him! If this point is reached a heavenly ray of light shall appear accompanied by piccolo playing sprites and cleanse me into what is decided on!

Round one was swift and as one sided a round as has ever graced the canvass of deciding a path! Harpman bounded out of his corner pent up with a zeal and enthusiasm that instantly immobilised Victorian Preacher who was still pondering on what his tactics would be! (rabbit in the headlights with no shades available!)
First clear points on the board were from a belter Harpman hit out with  and the crowd appreciated the art of the delivery!

Harpman states "OK man, so you want to change something and you want to feel fresh and invigorated in more aspects of what you do now, thus stopping you killing poor unfortunates waiting on a train?" Well first think about what you actually want to do! What is it to be, the same as now or Embalming, Tight Rope Walking, Bee Keeping, Hedge Trimmer, Lamp post Painter, Deep Sea Diver, Trampolinist, Tsar, Pyramid Photographer, Bird Watcher, Shelf Stacker, Goat Herder, Shampoo Inventor, Crazy Golf Champ, A Nana Mouskouri Impersonator, Rust Repairer, Chinese Flower Arranger, Writer, Aardvark Advocacy, Hut Builder, Tree Climber, Flea Circus Owner, Lighthouse Keeper, Soothsayer, God, the world is your Oyster, Clam and Lobster if you wanny!! Ooofftt!

I, as the Referee was bombarded by opportunities, opportunities that may seem odd but at some point have passed through my head and been discarded as fantasy!! However I think Harpmans subtle hint was pointing to the fact that all is opportunity, all is possible, all is open for further investigation if that's what you want to do then why not!!

Harpman had taken up so much time in delivering his first point that the seconds had flew by and there was only just enough time left on the clock for a finishing salvo from Harpman that reinforced his dominance of the rounds points.Victorian Preacher was still reeling from the first volley and was winded sorely, holding onto the rope trying to catch his breath back , a meek "Boo" was as much as he could muster at this point.

Harpman completed the round with " Right ya daftie, think and think hard. I'm a voice in an imagined ring of debate and path finding, you are the one who knows what you want to do and got to do. No point pretending that you don't because you do! It's like being ever so polite when someone asks if you would like the last chocolate from a box, you say "oh no it's all right you have it, I don't like they scrumptious raspberry creams anyway so no, you have it I don't want it, honestly!" " Aye right, you know you want it, you love raspberry creams, in fact you would gladly wallow in a vat of raspberry creaminess for a living if you could!" "so stop fucking around and just decide that that's what you want! Someones going to eat the fucking chocolate so may as well be you!"

The crowd are on their feet as the bell rings, the "ding ding" signalling the end of the round. Chanting fills the arena " There's only one Harpman, there's only one Harpman, one Harpmaaaaaan there's only one Haaarpman" Harpman bounds back to his corner invigorated by his utterances and refusing a seat or a sponge he is dancing on his toes akin to the great Ali in his prime. Victorian Preacher is aghast and finding if difficult to focus, his team are busying themselves with nayness vibes whilst wiping the angst from his face with a Brillo pad!! Readying themselves for round 2.

Clear winner of round one is Harpman! result is to feel what it is that I want to do and do it, or eat it or something like that.

Seconds away round 2 "Ding Ding"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjCsrOBzlXU

Drumchapel 1971-1975

Introduction
Thankfully I hold dear memories of my formative years growing up in the much maligned Drumchapel area of Glasgow. My years spent there throughout the so called dark and gloomy 1970's were full of excitement, adventure, poverty, dens, fighting, games, laughter and tears. To relate some of what I remember of these mythical days I will extort from my memory glands how I personaly remember them and try and give a feel for the experience from an angle that holds true to the influence that living there has engrained into me who I am now.
Background
My Mum (Ruby) and Dad (John) had had 3 children by 1970 2 of which were alive and kicking (Michael and Margerate-Anne) Sadly the 3rd child Owen died through the unexplainable way of cot death. I came along in 1971 and spent my first months with the family in the Scotstoun (Scotstoun St) area of Glasgow. We upped sticks to Drumchapel in 1971 when i was 3 or 4 months old as I'm guessing that the house was to small for us to all cram into.

Incidentally in this house before I was born my dad survived falling out the window that was  the top floor of a tenement 4 floors in all! By luck his fall was broken by landing back first onto a car in the street below! Many bones were broken and his legs pinned together with girders made in Scotland. That car gave me life. To this day many still curse the driver for parking there.

Rug rat, black taxi, family snaps and hippos
As I was just rug rat for the first year or so my memories are hidden deep within in the realms of my brain that not even a hypnotist could retrieve. I do remember liking rusks though, first memory of liking food a little too much! 1973 seen the arrival of the 5th child to grace the Connolly family his name was David and he was to be the last addition.



My first clear memories were when I went to Bellside Nursery school which was a 2 minute stroll from my house Number 9 Cloan Avenue. Now I'm sure that I must have been 3 or 4 years old at this time. I have soft frame memories of skipping along with my mum to nursery in the morning until the afternoon. She would drop me off and I would spend my time playing in the sandpit and making multi coloured animals with gritty hair ridden plasticine. Best time of the day was singing along to teacher playing the geetar to such classics as
" Whole world in his hands," "If your happy and you know it clap your hands" and " "Ally Ally Ally Bee" try read em without singing em!

Other memories were of baking rock cakes at nursery and a magical visit from Santa at Christmas time.I can still remember sitting in a circle with the teachers and other nursery kids in a hall festooned with paper decorations that we must have spent days doing. All singing songs and waiting for Santa to arrive via the Rudolph express. It took ages for the arrival of the red suited present giver but arrive he did "Ho Ho Ho, where are all the good children who deserve a present from Santa?" We all screamed "me me me Santa Ive been good Ive been good" sheepishly looking over at the teacher to see if the expression on her face confirmed that you had indeed been a good boy and therefore would get a present from Santa. I got a toy black hackney taxi. I really really loved it and can still feel twangs of joy just remembering that day and the black taxi corgi toy.

Not really much more memories of that age except I can just about remember a holiday to visit our Auntie Helen and our cousins down in Hull. There are photographs of us all there. For some reason I remember that on one day we were all to get our photo taken individually and that there had been trouble that day not sure what but probably was David biting me and me blaming Margaret-Anne! David had a tendency to bite me as was his want and I,d get into trouble for crying about it!! Anyway  we were all in mums bad books and the photos show clearly the sadness of aftermath that day. My rosy cheeks were just pure deep purple and my bottom lip was tripping me, Margaret-Annes face came a close second to sullenness,  family classics now! Another Hull memory was of a day we went to the beach and my cousin James and I playing in what looks like mud. We were covered in it and a photo shows that we must have been hippos who could use buckets and spades in past lives.

 5 year old man, slow mo, and greeting


Turning  5  was excellent. I had made it, I was in control, I was king of my world, I was a man!! I was a huge fan of Steve Austin the "six million dollar man" aka "the bionic man" the T.V show. He was my hero and was in my eyes a real living Bionic man who saved people from the baddies on a regular basis. All done in super high speed or my favourite in slow motion. He could run as fast as a jet, jump ravines, see for miles and hear everything from all over the WORLD man. He was ultra cool. I played at being Bionic every day for ages, setting up my room with obstacles that I would bionically overcome and all in slow motion.(oh and singing the tune as well) Running in slow motion was a hard thing to master but I excelled through perseverance and sheer belief that I was indeed bionic. Strange thing is that i would always be last to sit down at the dinner table as i was slow motioning it down the hall as the rest of the herd rumbled by me in real time!! Did I care no, because I was bionic man and he eats once the baddies are tied up with rope and behind bars. Food Pah

My 5th birthday present and still to this day my most favourite was a bionic man outfit!! Oh yes a top and bottoms red suit that made me really bionic. I could not have been more excited as I put it on. I can clearly remember mum saying that I could put in on but could only wear it in the house!! I can see her point now as it was as flimsy a cotsume that ever was, I mean it was made out of  material that that was as thin as a crepe paper and held no protection to anything the weather could through to it! However was I listening? no chance as soon as her back was turned I decided that the bionic man was to make an escape out the house and show off to my pals that I WAS THE KING OF KINGS (and the street) in the suit.

So all in slow motion I left my room, quitelty opened the front door shut it behind me, deftly leapt the stairs (ravines) in the close all 3 flights and made it to the close entrance. Oh yes I was the man. It was early afternoon so no-one was around but hey ho I didn't care. I was bionic and there was things to do bionically. I leapt of walls, ran slow motion round the back, then decided to climb a tree to get better use of my bionic eyes. All was good until climbing down the tree I caught my arm on a twig and ripped the whole length of the arm off! Man mum would be not happy only had it on for half hour and its ripped and i'm outside! Woooo Wooooo sniff sniff was the sound of me greeting all the way up the stairs (not in slow motion). Mum was cool just called me an eejit and that was that. It was a great day though.

Next blog 1975 -1980