Bring me sunshine...

Well, to be honest with you, I'd settle for a little creative boost. Sunshine is certainly not in short supply here. I already have the kind of tan people might expect a Mediterranean holidaymaker to have. But then I is a Ginger, init, so all I need to do is look at one of those sunshine symbols on the weather forecast and I get sunstroke.

Just had two days with Toby and Alan who were on a whistle-stop tour of the highlands. Did a couple of walks, ate fantastic food, got a bit pissed. Ahh, it were right nice - especially as it was my birthday on the 27/4.

Just watched a bit of the wedding this morning - cardinal sin, putting the TV on before teatime, but I suppose it was a valid excuse...

I was pondering levels of personal security the other day. Strange how when we live in houses, we think of ourselves as virtually unassailable; safe in our little castles, all locked up and secure. I noticed that when I first started living in the van, my sense of personal security was heightened. Over the weeks, this has dropped, but I still have to do the old 'lock routine' to make sure the van's secure while I'm away from it. I shouldn't be surprised. On one occasion when I was living on Plantation Rd, I actually drove back from the end of the road just to make sure I'd locked the front door. Old habits. Why, though, should I feel any less secure in a big old love bus than in a house?

Had a strange day just before my birthday. I was overcome by a terrible yearning to talk to my folks. I wanted to ring them and tell them where I was, what I was up to, talk to Dad about music, tell Mum there was an EWM in Ullapool, so she could go shopping! An awful feeling really - when you really want to do something but there is absolutely no way it could ever physically happen. I'm sure it will have a bit to do with the approaching period of isolation. Not that I'll be away from civilisation, just missing me mates I suppose...

Well, I think I'll bring this cheery blog to a close!

At least it was some writing practice - even if it was to skate across my psyche!

Over and out.

Actually in Scotland!

Well, after much deliberation, brain-aching and general malaise, I am finally over the border!

Okay, I've only made it to Dollar so far (it's in Clackmannanshire, near Stirling, which is in Stirlingshire. Are you following this?) but I'm on me bloody way.

This is Robin and Julie's lovely cottage in Dollar complete with - and you may want to sit down before looking to the top left of the photo - blue sky. That's right, blue sky. There's quite a lot of blue sky in Scotland, but don't tell everyone or they will all be up here. Bloody sassenachs!

As you'll know, I've come up to Scotland to get away from it all and somehow sew together all the crazy ideas, lines and concepts in my head. What will come out at the end will either be a few well-crafted short stories, a play or two and an autobiography, or a complete load of mentalism that would get me an express, access-no-areas pass into Rampton, or some other secure institution.

My intention was not to start writing until I was settled in one place. The very idea that I could control my creativity, turning it on and off at will, is akin to shrieking that the Earth is flat until your eyes bleed. So, with a hoarse voice and gently mopped, slightly bloodshot eyes I offer you my blog - a tattered mishmash of random thoughts and rants.

Talking of rants - why is it that groups of schoolgirls have to randomly scream as if they are being attacked by a shark while popping to the bakery? Just near Rob and Julie's house is Dollar Academy - one of Scotland's finest private schools. So naturally, of a lunchtime, gangs of pupils maraud around the village centre, trying to buy Red Bull and 10 Marlborough Lights from the Co-op. The lads just hang around in moody-looking groups, all strung out on their 'Kevin and Perry' ideals. But the girls? Jesus H Christ in a canoe, all they do is flit about like demented gazelles, wildly stabbing at their mobile phones, shrieking every time they get a text message which will no doubt be about either some lad in the Lower Sixth Form, or Justin Bieber: omg! JB is bamf lol cu l8r bff.

What? Put them all in the Grasmere Bin*

Ooh, that's better. There's nothing like a good old moan and I just love the way that my MacBook Pro agrees with everything I say. The world needs to catch up...

Over and out.

*Grasmere Bin: I did the Coast to Coast walk a few years back and stopped a while in Grasmere in the Lake District. So full was it of chocolate box houses, cutesy Wordsworth-themed cafes and tourists, that I just wanted to drop a Daisy Cutter on it...