Day 365 - Congratulations

 CONGRATULATIONS

Prompt - Congratulations : Did you write a poem, short story, or journal entry every day for a whole year?  Write about what you've learned and celebrate your achievement!

Short answer - No.  Because I failed to produce anything in response to the prompt on about fifteen of the three hundred and sixty five days.  (Although I intend to go back to every single one of them and come up with something in the opening weeks of 2022.)  But the long answer is much, much more positive, for using these prompts has stretched me and made me write fiction and verse I didn't know I had in me.  It's been a very positive experience and one I hope I can use to improve my writing in future.  Albeit it's also highlighted one of my major weaknesses as a writer...

I have written far more fiction and poetry than in any calendar year of my life.  Indeed my output in those more creative aspects of writing has probably exceeded that of most (all?) decades.  Much of it was, to be honest, rubbish, and that's fine with me, because at least I tried.  But the best is that I wrote several pretty good stories across the year.  In a couple of cases I've started stories I didn't have time to finish and, like the blank pages, fully intend to return to next year.  I have also found the nerve to share a few on social media.  They have had hardly any reads, and no comments, but at least I dared.  And there are many more from the past twelve months I want to join them.  It's a matter of making time to revisit what are just first drafts, and turning them into more finished products.

From memory the best thing I wrote was the story about the woman in the yellow coat, in which she committed suicide.  It hasn't been shared yet, and there are others ahead of it in the queue.  It was written at the end of April, so maybe I peaked too early in he year?  Certainly there have been periods where the project felt more like an imposition than something to be enjoyed, but I always managed to get through that feeling within a couple of weeks.

The project has shown I can write stories on a variety of subjects and even in genres like science fiction, I can have creative ideas and put them into practice, I can come up with reasonably convincing dialogue (one of my best stories was almost entirely dialogue, which pleased me).  But, as mentioned before, it's also exposed my biggest weakness (apart from a total lack of confidence, which has been improved to a degree) and that's the lack of any really original ideas.  I needed these prompts to get me going and still sometimes failed to come up with anything (although there were often time pressures contributing).  However I have had some story ideas in the past, such as my series based around train journeys. and I want to go back to them and see if I can carry them through.  That means writing much longer stories than I managed this year, and the need to go back to those I started but didn't finish will be a help in working out how to do that.  

The other downside of writing so much creatively is that my Litter Bin blog has suffered.  Again.  A few prompts resulted in post, but only about three.  I ended up maintaining my record of a post every calendar month, but only just, and too often I was scrabbling about for something to write as the month drew to a close.  My blog turns ten years old late in 2022, and I hope I can keep it going.  And that I manage to get back to something nearer the one a week I'd originally envisaged.  But even posting about thirty or more times would be a huge improvement.

So that's my writing challenges for next year sorted.  Fill in the blanks in my 365 blog, and complete the unfinished pieces.  Revisit, rewrite the train stories I once began, and complete them.  And, not yet mentioned, try out my idea for a novella, of a man who is able to be int wo places at once.  I will continue to share my stories on social media, but must be brave enough to put one or two on writing websites (some of which I have identified this year) to expose myself to some proper criticism.  Finally, beyond the fiction (and I note that I don't really have any ambitions to write more poetry), I need to up my blogging output.  That means looking at the world differently.  And perhaps the two, fiction and non fiction, will rub off against one another with a resultant improvement in my writing and my ability to come up with ideas.  Thanks to my 365 project, and these handy prompts, I enter 2022 feeling much more positive about my desire to be some kind of writer.

Day 364 - Trust

 TRUST

Prompt - Trust : Write about putting trust in someone

I've been a Volunteer Advocacy Worker for about six years now, and have become one of the more senior among the group.  The 'job' is rewarding, frustrating, educational, confusing, demanding, funny, sad, inspiring, gut wrenching, worrying, hilarious and weird, all rolled into one.  Varied too.  I have met some very interesting people, some very baffling people, the odd slightly threatening person.  I have tried to help people deal with problems with housing, benefits, doctors, dentists, lawyers, family, psychiatrists, social workers, the council and many more.  I've learned the difference between post natal depression and post partum psychosis, which is something I never ever anticipated happening!  And I've learned to deal with what's thrown at me, find out where I don't know, rely on others and rely on my own ability to relate to people.It's never dull.

But the one aspect of the work that always amazes me, and, I hope, always will, is how quickly so many vulnerable people are able to trust me with very intimate details of their lives.  In part it's because they have come for help, and that Advocard, as an organisation, strives to maintain a strong reputation for being independent and willing to give what assistance they can through advocacy.  In part it may reflect how desperate many of the people we see are.  And I hoper a part of it is that, with all the practice I've had, I have developed ways of making people feel at ease.  But even taking these things into account it is still incredible that within fifteen or twenty minutes of meeting this total stranger they are able to talk about problems they have going to the toilet, or lacking the motivation to wash for days on end, or if they have recently felt suicidal - all subjects I have to ask about if I'm helping them prepare for a benefits assessment (and don't get me started on how inhumane that bloody system is now...).

Trust.  It's never easy to give it to anyone.  Less so to someone you've met for the first time a few minutes ago.  Not everyone does, and with some it's a long battle to win that precious commodity.  But so many do, and that is, with apologies for the cliche, consistently humbling.  I'm very lucky.

Day 360 - Review

 REVIEW

Prompt - Review : Review your week, month or year in a journal entry or poem format

The final month of 2021, the second year of the global pandemic that has done so much damage around the globe.  Throughout those two years I've always been conscious that we, my wife and I, are less affected than most, lucky to lead the life we do.  Other than contracting the virus itself, but making pretty full recoveries (I have been left a short of breath, which appears to be a permanent legacy), the only limitations on our lives have been genuine 'first world problems' that are of little significance in the bigger picture.  Missing out on gigs and rugby matches and travel are not major issues, certainly not compared to all the people who have been reduced to poverty, had their health suffer, lost loved ones, been lonely and desperate.  We have each other, a cat, a nice warm home, enough money to meet our needs, far more than the basics of life.

December 2021 has been more of the same.  It began, for me, alone, as Barbara was visiting family down south.  That in itself was a change as it had been impossible last year.  She returned the day after, and I had two nights out.  One a pub meal with other volunteers and staff from where I do my 'work'.  The second an evening match, watching Edinburgh beat Benetton.  So the month started well.

Then it was life as usual.  Going into the office on a Wednesday afternoon.  The usual minutiae of daily life, the shopping and cooking and doing some writing.  Getting out every day,no matter the weather, although it was mostly dry but cold anyway.  Good to be wrapped up in winter clothing, albeit confusing when we had a short warmer spell, and I could feel the sweat forming after a few hundred meters.  Barbara had a meal out with friends, and another few days away with family, this time in Windermere.  And, as the month wore on, some xmas preparations.  Although since it's just a quiet time for the two of us, and our main present to each other is a trip away next February, there wasn't even much of that.

But covid has intervened as well.  A mid month music gig was cancelled due to the musicians contracting the disease.  And then another, for the same reason, a few days later.  Finally the government has, sensibly, called for a mini-lockdown after xmas and we have lost the Hogmanay gig in Greyfriars Kirk we were so looking forward to.

Still, there were other highlights.  The Crawford 'staff night out' went ahead as planned, with a trip to Dundee on the twenty second to watch our comedian friend Aidan Goatley perform.  That was fun.  And although there was no more live rugby to go to (and, not strictly relevant here except for the sense of loss, I won't be going to Murrayfield to see Edinburgh play Glasgow on second of January, all the worse because I'd managed to book the best seats I've ever had in the stadium!) there was a stunning highlight in watching Edinburgh beat Saracens, at the latter's home ground, in a live TV broadcast that had me shouting and jumping up at regular intervals.  Oh, and I got to watch 'my' NHL team, the New York Islanders, playing live without having to stay up into the middle of the night, as they had an afternoon faceoff which translated into seven in the evening here.  Pity they lost on penalties though!

And we had xmas day yesterday, with presents and food and just having a nice time being with one another.  Like most days.

What's left for this month?  More of the same I suppose.  Getting out every day.  Eating well. Writing and reading and TV.   Tomorrow the chance to watch Edinburgh again, this time away in Glasgow.  Some volunteering work, by phone.  And being together.  

Covid times are bad times for many, but have still been happy times for us, and December 2021, despite the occasional glitch of lost opportunities, has been more of the same.  Roll on 2022.

Day 358 - Picnic

 PICNIC

Prompt - Picnic : Write about going on a picnic

"an occasion when a packed meal is eaten outdoors, especially during an outing to the countryside"

I am not a fan of picnics.  Perhaps due to childhood memories.  If I try hard I can recall some enjoyable picnics, most of which were at Stow.  But my overriding memories of eating outdoors is the intervention of sand in the food, if at the beach, or the interfering persistence of ants and other insects in the country.  Picnics get a better press than they deserve.

So the picnic is not a staple of the Crawford household.  But was one last year, and a sort-of one this year, both of which have provided happy recollections.  Last year, during the summer of lockdowns, we took a couple of folding chairs, and a couple of insulated bags, and made our way across the road to Pilrig Park.  Spot in the sun selected, chairs erected, cups placed in cup holders, drinks poured food unpacked, we sat and ate and talked and had a lovely couple of hours on the grass, surrounded by trees and the sights and sounds of others having fun - kicking a ball about, making their dogs chase, throwing frisbees, sat cross legged sharing drinks, reading books, lying back to soak up a dose of vitamin D.  That was a good afternoon.

That one probably met the definition I opened this essay with, albeit an urban park isn't really 'the countryside'.  But this year's experience is even more tenuous, if that opening line is the guide.  Once a gain the scene was a public park.  But this time I'm not sure if it could be described as a 'packed meal'  I suppose it came in cardboard boxes and paper bags, but the only edible I'd actually packed for the outing was a flask of tap water.

But whether or not it meets the strict definition of picnic is not really the important thing.  What matters most is knowing that we had a good time, and it's an experience we want to repeat next year.  We had got ourselves on a bus to Bruntsfield, on a sunny day.  While being conveyed to our destination I used my phone to place an order with Meltmongers, the toastie shop in said location.  This was a place we'd been meaning to try for years.  But the stools inside the shop never look very comfortable, so it would have to be a nice day when we could comfortably sit on a bench on Bruntsfield Links.  It proved worth the wait.

While Barbara got herself a coffee from one of the old police box kiosks, I went in to collect our order.  A toastie apiece, and a box of sweet potato fries to share.  Then we made out way to a bench, remote from others, and consumed our bread based feast.  Delicious.  To be repeated.  I had jalapenos in my filling, and their bite went so well with the sweetness of the chips.  Great bread they use too.  And, a bit like that day at Pilrig, but on a lesser scale, we could indulge in people watching while we sat and ate.  A large family playing games around a bench.  A couple laughing hysterically at their own flawed efforts with a frisbee.  People walking dogs, people simply walking.  And us, hungrily devouring our simple but tasty repast.  That sounds like the spirit of picnicness.

Day 356 - Anniversary

 ANNIVERSARY 

Prompt - Anniversary : Write about the anniversary of a special date

Your calendar probably has a note on this date saying 'Battle of the Boyne (Northern Ireland)'.  The Twelfth of July is a public holiday there.  On the UK mainland it also has a significance, but only in certain places.  Where it's either known for being the time for the Orangemen's Parades, or as The Bigots Day Out.  But in this household it's known mainly as being one of our two anniversaries, and generally regarded as the more important of the pair.

The lesser date is in September and is the day of our wedding.  But July twelfth still seems the more special commemoration, for it's the day we began living together.  And we still feel the greater affection for that landmark twenty eight years later (and counting).  Perhaps all the more so now when we feel a bit more free to celebrate without fear of unwanted interruption.

That's because we now live in Edinburgh.  Had we instead moved to Glasgow it might be different, but The Bigots Day Out has no real impact here.  No parades, flutes, drums, sashes and drunken zealots.  Unlike Southport, the place we lived before.  A quiet little seaside town, but, for some reason I never quite fathomed, invaded on that one day in July by red faced men in suits and bowler hats, wishing to celebrate their cultural inheritance.  And unwarranted fanaticism.  Most have come up from Liverpool, with the city itself managing to escape the excesses of the tanked up cultists.  For one day Southport suffers.

The one day that means most to Barbara and I.  But for years we decided not to risk going into town for an evening out on the day itself, for the risk of it being ruined by some dickhead bawling allegiance to Billy and Queenie.  The move north resolved that problem, and now we are free to celebrate as we wish.  Covid and lockdowns permitting....

Day 352 - Motivational Poster

 

MOTIVATIONAL POSTER

Prompt - Motivational Poster : Look at some motivational posters online and write a poem or journal entry inspired by your favourite one

Today may be a fabulous day.

And why not?  The one thing that should never surprise us about life is how surprising it is.  There have certainly been times in the past where it felt like every day was much the same, and therefore this day would be basically the same as the last.  I let myself get into that frame of mind where it felt as if there was little variation, so my expectations were low, which in turn desensitised me to the little things, the small differences that always exist and give variety to our existence.

Of course there will also be big moments of change, some of which come at us totally unforeseen.  they may be positive, or negative, or some kind of mix of the two, and so they might not always feel like they are for the best.  But if your life is in a rut, or at least feels as if it is, then change is always good, for it opens up opportunities to experience life in new ways.  And while the experiences themselves may not always be enjoyable, they add to the store of memories which build up into a highlights reel of our past.

Even if life is largely enjoyable, as I find mine is now, there are still highs and lows.  There is still the humdrum necessity of existing and keeping regular life running smoothly, like shopping and cooking and cleaning.  But there are also moments of joy.  Moments that turn an ordinary day into something extraordinary.

I am in the habit of making myself write down three (or more) things about my day that have given me pleasure.  Some days it's a struggle to come up with anything original, so I fall back on something I ate, or watched on TV, or just the pleasure of going for a walk.  On other days the list stretches out, for there have been lots of little moments to celebrate, even something as trivial as a parcel arriving in the post. (In lockdown the postman was often the hero f the day!)  

So it's worth waking up and reminding yourself of those few words of French.  You do not know, for sure, what's going to take place when you get out of bed.  And it might indeed be something fabulous.  As long as you're open to the possibility...

Day 342 - Weakness

 WEAKNESS

Prompt - Weakness : Write about your greatest weakness

I am at the beginning of writing this essay at eight thirteen in the evening. Whereas I have been sat at my desk since well before eight.  I am writing this in the evening despite having been home for most of the day (although I did get myself to the gym, and did my voluntary work for much of the afternoon).  I am going to try to write this quickly, in under half an hour if possible, because I should be downstairs sharing the sofa with my wife.

Why do I begin writing about the subject of my biggest weakness with that description of my current situation?  Because it helps as an illustration of exactly what that weakness is.  It is a behaviour that derives from several sources - being lazy, easily distracted, demotivated, tired, lacking determination and others - all of which combine into one overarching symptom, one that has dogged me for almost all my life.  Poor time management.

Which is kind of ironic when you realise that I used to be a project manager, and, somehow, delivered a critical path 'millennium bug' project well within time.  But there was a lot more pressure on me then that at any other time in my life, and I, just about, somehow found it within me to respond.  An event which stands out as a rarity in my history.

Of course I know all the theory.  I have done time management training.  I have, obviously, been trained in project planning.  Even today, although long retired, I can be quite effective in drawing up plans, listing priorities, identifying dependencies.  And totally ineffective in implementing these plans.  There's the odd day when I manage to stick roughly to my timetable, but it always falls apart eventually.  This is especially the case when left to myself for a few days.  I draw up a rough timetable of actions, with plenty contingency time, and still struggle to get everything done I wanted to.  Indeed I rarely succeed.

And the worst culprit for disrupting these plans lies in something I've never ever managed to do anything about.  I can't cut myself off from it, I can't stop it happening because I'm often not even conscious that it has, until however long has passed me by.  This is because my biggest timewasting activity is going into my own head and entering a parallel world where my imagination rules and the normal rules of reality - and time - are suspended.  (The second biggest timewasting activity at the moment lies with games on my PC!)  

Sometimes I find myself 'lost' for several hours.  Often I've been pacing up and down, having imaginary conversations in imaginary scenarios.  At least that increases my steps count for the day!  But, sadly, the wanderings of my mind almost never result in a product I can sue as the  basis for a piece of fiction or verse.  If it did I wouldn't be quite so annoyed with myself!  While it's easier to indulge this sort of behaviour in retirement, I can recall it happening as far back as schoolwork times.  I have been this way, more or less, for over half a century, and I have to accept that it won't change now.

So instead I make allowances.  I still draw up plans, but with the knowledge that they are sort of 'best endeavours' kind of contract with myself.  If I manage to get most of it done I can feel happy with myself.  In my most recent period alone, over three days, I managed to be surprisingly productive on the first, achieving almost everything on my list.  But day two that had slipped to a bit over sixty per cent.  And on day three?  Probably about thirty per cent of my tasks were completed.  And even that felt like a big plus compared with previous experiences!

So there we are.  A weakness that dogged me through school, university, and a career I'm surprised I managed to have (!), is still there, and easier to accept now.  I am who I am and there is a limit to how much we can change our basic character.

Frustratingly this also means accepting that I will never be able to write anything of any length, for I am too easily distracted into other tasks, too ready to lose concentration and give up.  That won't stop me trying, after a fashion, for who knows? - maybe I can somehow learn to work within my limitations?  It's good to maintain some optimism, otherwise why bother?  

Why bother indeed?

Day 340 - Unfinished

 UNFINISHED

Prompt - Unfinished : Write about a project you started but never completed

Unfinished project?  Sadly I am one of those people who has so many to choose from.  Not least in terms of stories I have begun as part of this 3675 Challenge, and failed to complete.  There are at least three of those, plus a dozen empty posts where I failed to meet the challenge (although I hope to complete them all next year...).  But I need only look over my shoulder, to the messy pile on the floor behind me, to be reminded of a project I began with such hopes, and enjoyed for a time, but which has now spent months in abeyance.  With no real plan to revive it, to my shame.

When the first lockdown came it was inevitable that a great deal of my, our, time was going to be spent in our flat.  Which meant looking for ways to occupy my time that would be a bit different from my usual activities.  Although I do my writing every day, a lot of my time at home is essentially passive.  TV, internet, books.  There's cooking of course, but that can be more chore than creative exercise at times.  I do very little of a practical or manual nature, other than chopping veg, or the odd DIY repair.

So I decided to return to my childhood and ordered a couple of plastic model kits, the sort of thing I hadn't attempted for around fifty years.  Then the subjects would have been aircraft, in 1/72 scale.  Interests change over half a century, and now the desire is to make something that has your own imprint, rather than copy an original.  I ordered two kits in 1/24 scale.  The models were of a 2CV, which I wanted to paint in  blue and white with a saltire on the boot lid (the colour scheme I'd love to have a car in were we to ever get another 2CV in our garage); and another old Citroen model, an H Van, to paint in Edinburgh Rugby colours.  Along with paints, brushes, glue, masking tape, and some small files.

I was excited when the boxes, and sundry other items, arrived.  And soon set to on the Deux Chevaux.  I'd clear a space on my desk, spread an old tee shirt across it (to catch small items that might other wise skid off, and to save the desk from paint and glue), and get to work.  Firstly checking all the parts were there, then going through each individually and listing each one with the colour(s) it was to be painted.  A methodical, planned approach.  Then working steadily through the provided instruction booklet, painting ahead of use where that looked the best course.  

That worked well for several weeks, even months.  I didn't turn to it every day, but probably four or five out of every seven.  Steady progress was made, the car began to have a shape and sense of what the finished item would look like.  Probably.

For then it stopped.  I forget when and I forget why.  Most likely in the Autumn of 2020, when the light was less suitable for my needs (although I'm sure artificial light would be fine) and, more importantly, going out, going to other places, began to become a possibility.  Another lockdown would follow in due course, but by then the impetus was lost, my mind elsewhere.  Despite that unsightly, and annoyingly placed, pile on the carpet of the study.  

And that's frustrating, for although my model making abilities were well short of perfection, it was beginning to look like something I could take some pride in.  Now it almost feels too late.  Getting back into it would be slow and awkward, as I try to determine how far through the build I'd got (or did I mark the stages off in the booklet?).  I know I'm just making excuses though.

Maybe I need an other lockdown!  (And another, real life, 2CV!)

Day 339 - Pick Me Up

 PICK ME UP

Prompt - Pick Me Up : What do you do when you need a pick me up?

Times change, people change, and the reasons why you might need to find yourself a pick me up, and what you would regard as one, changes across the decades.  At the risk of sounding smug, and ignoring the potential for hubris, I am now at a point in my life where a pick me up rarely required.  Life is good, I am mostly content, and the need to raise my own spirits is a rarity.  It was not always that way.

In large part that's because the very things I would turn to for their ability to give my mood a lift are already part of my daily routine.  And because I no longer have the stress of a job, of being obliged towards others, of feeling that I am on a wheel I can't easily get off.  Retirement takes those elements of life away, and gives time to do the things that bring pleasure.  I am conscious that I also lucky to have no family commitments, no debts, an adequate income, and that my health is largely good.  Take away any of those and the picture could be very different.  (And no doubt will be, one day...)

So what are the regular events in day to day life that mitigate against feeling down?  The ones I can turn to in those times when I do have concerns to deal with.  Number one is my wife, supported by our cat and home.  A happy home life, someone to talk to and share things with, an affectionate creature that depends on me/us, and a place to be with comfort, character and, in Spring, crows to watch!  These are all elements which support the good life, and can provide solace at times of worry or anger.  I have with me someone who will listen and provide sensible advice; a pet to play with and stroke to help me forget; and a flat that feels like the happiest place I have ever lived, with a fascinating view out and all the comfort I feel I need.  There's space enough, music on tap, books by the hundred to turn to - but more on them later.

Then there's exercise, and specifically walking.  I n o longer play any sports, my left knee prevents me running, but every day I do some stretches and a few basic exercises.  Now and then I manage to motivate myself into a short gym session.  But the one exercise that will lift my mood more than any other is walking.  I walk every day, health permitting, aiming to record at least eleven thousand steps on my wrist monitor.  That comes from a mix of simply doing stuff around the flat, occasionally pacing up and down whilst lost in thought, making my way across the city streets to get shopping or visit somewhere, and, in the warmer months, much longer walks, of ten miles and more, to get my body in shape for the charity Kiltwalk.  I put in a lot of steps across a year, and they make my body  and mind feel better.  I have always found I think better on the move, and now I have the time to move and keep moving every day I can

Finally there's the activity I am undertaking now, which is closely linked to taking in the results of others doing the same.  The power of words to explain, sooth, distract, inform.  Letting them pour out, letting them seep in.  I write every day.  A diary entry, about the trivia of my life.  An entry in the website 750words, which can be about anything.  Often nothing more than a stream of consciousness outpouring, sometimes I find a subject.  Some of those lead into posts on the blog I've been putting out, irregularly, for nine years.  Sometimes I write reviews of plays, gigs and films we've been to see.  Not for anyone to read, but to see what the challenge produces.  And this year I have been trying to meet a challenge to produce something every single day in response to a list of prompts I found on the web.  It hasn't always worked, but it has most days, and I suspect I've produced more short stories and poems in the past twelve months than in the rest of my life put together.  Most are poor efforts.  But at least I feel I've tried.  And, now and then, I've come up with something I'm proud of.  And that if that isn't a pick me up I don't know what is.

Day 331 - What's Cooking

 WHAT'S COOKING

Prompt - What's Cooking : Write something inspired by a favourite food or recipe

Sprouts have always had a bad press.  Often once of the most loathed foods of childhood, frequently the only part of a xmas dinner left aside.  Lots of work to prepare, with so little benefit it seems.  And, in the past few years, a certain kind of right wing nutjob has even sworn against them because of the 'brussel' appellation.   Crazies, but it does nothing to further these mini-cabbages' reputation.

But how many were turned off sprouts in their early years by simple bad cooking.  The overcooked pale green mush of the sprout that has been boiled to death is a food to avoid.  For this wee emerald gem to be fully appreciated for its worth it needs to retain it's shape and some notion of 'bite' when your teeth do their job.  (With one exception, which I will come to later.)  In my experience there are two ways of achieving this, although the best of these I have. sadly, only learned in the past few years, with the realisation that I have been missing out on one of life's great culinary experiences.

The best way to enjoy the more traditional sprout is steamed.  There is less risk of overcooking, and the flavour is more effectively retained.  For perfection they should be removed from the steam whilst still al dente, and tossed in a pot of melted butter and grated nutmeg.  With a little black pepper if you like a bit of heat, as I do.  Gorgeous.

And yet still a poor relation to the glorious discovery I made a few years ago.  I had a few left over sprouts in the fridge when I was preparing a tray of vegetables to be roasted.  Out of curiosity, for it's good to expand the variety in the dish, I added half a dozen sprouts.  Prepared as they would be for steaming or boiling, with the other leaves removed and their bottoms crossed.  They emerged slightly charred, well cooked, and spectacular to the mouth.  These were sprouts as I had never known them before.

So I Googles roast sprouts to discover they were very much a thing, and well recognised as a source of delight.  So what else could be done with them?  Risotto was the answer, and provided the exception I mentioned above.  Sprout and Stilton Risotto to be more specific.  Around sixty per cent of the sprouts are to be prepared as usual, except sliced into halves and then roasted until caramelising.  They get stirred into the near finished potage towards the end of cooking. 

 The remainder are finely chopped, and added to the mix shortly after the rice has been coated in the oils and flavoured with wine.  These add to the depth of flavour, while largely disappearing into the mix as the cooking progresses.  With the addition of a good blue cheese the end result is wonderful, creamy and full of flavours, with the charred demi sprouts the little nuggets of gold to be sought out.

Of course cooking risotto takes time, and isn't something I'd want to have to do every night.  So I tried to think of a way to get that sprout and stilton combo, but with a lot less effort.  Which led to me inventing the sprout and stilton pizza.  Not something that's commonplace in the wider world, as far as I can tell (although I have since blogged about it, so I hope it's something others have tired since...).  Purchase a ready made, good quality, margarita pizza.  I often use a sourdough base with tomato and mozzarella topping.  Prepare the sprouts as you would for the risotto, halved and roasted, but this time not to the point of being ready.  Cover the top of the pizza with crumbled stilton.  Dot the near-ready sprouts across the surface, and cook as usual.  The end result isn't as spectacular as the risotto, but it does have it's own charms, one of those being simplicity and speed.  

I now look forward to winter arriving and first bags of sprouts appearing.  So much deliciousness to look forward to...

Day 329 - Trail and Error

 TRIAL AND ERROR

Prompt - Trial and Error : Write about something you learned the hard way

Learning stuff came too easily to me during my school years.  I was a natural at exams and didn't have to work hard to pass them.  Rather than try to develop this intellectual talent I instead became lazy.  Why bother trying if you could get by without much effort?  Of course I struggled with some subjects, failed the odd exam, but I always did enough to be near the top of the class in most of what I did.  

This did mean I missed out on my one childhood dream career, as an airline pilot, because I was told I'd struggle to pass physics.  Rather than say I'd give it a go I took the simpler path.  That carried on into university, until, when it looked like I really would have to do some actual work, I opted out, took a lesser degree and went on my way.

So when I had to try and learn to do a real world job, especially one I had little natural aptitude for, I struggled.  Hugely.  And would end up resigning within nine months - before they fired me!  I went back to doing a low level job that was very simple and which I was good at, while trying to figure out what to do with my life.

It was a careers adviser at the Jobcentre who suggested computers (not IT - that term hadn't arrived yet!), based on some aptitude tests and my interests.  I had no previous experience of computing (at that time I hadn't even seen an ATM) so in the end the only place that would take me on, and train me from scratch, was the civil service.  And so I found myself over four hundred miles from home, learning to become a COBOL programmer with three other people.

Within a few weeks it was obvious to everyone, even me, that I was going to be the star of the quartet.  The logic and language used came naturally to me, and I loved learning to design and code.  Then I hit a bit of a snag.

Not in my understanding of what I was having to learn, but physically.  I was lucky enough to find a GP who knew about glandular fever, and was able to diagnose it quickly.  Except that there wasn't really any treatment, it was something I had to get through.  That meant about three weeks off work at first.  I came back, and soon caught up with the others.  Then I was off again, for a bit longer this time.  When I returned to the office I was not having an easy time of it.  Weak, slow, easily tired, couldn't socialise with anyone as I felt so exhausted and unable to consume alcohol anyway.  I would work on the training course as hard as I could, struggle home, and collapse.  Sometimes I would get in, flop on the sofa, and be unable to move for a couple of hours.  As in literally unable to find the energy to open an eyelid.

The people I lived with thought I was asleep when I was in that state.  But I was usually conscious, able to listen and process what I heard, but totally unable to respond in any way.  So they'd say what they really thought, clearly unable to understand what the illness did to me, or simply not caring.  i was boring, I was a pain, I was getting in everyone's way, I was useless.

Things were better in the office, where most in my immediate circle were more understanding, but I was still seen as an outsider who wouldn't join in.

All I had was the job, trying to get through the course so that I could start my career.  So for once in my life I worked hard.  So hard that, despite having lost about six or seven weeks of a four month training period, I caught and passed the others and was seen as the top prospect by the end of it.  So much so that I was recommended to one of the sections which took the brightest graduates from training.

That produced further fear of failure, for even by that time I was still physically very weak - it would take well over eight months to be back to anything like my normal self - and thought I couldn't live up to the build up I was being given.  But my new bosses were very good, gave me time to develop my skills and accepted that I wouldn't always be able to deliver one hundred per cent. 

I'm glad I got glandular fever.  While I would always be lazy, and still am, that period showed I could fight for what I wanted if I really needed to, and that memory would help me in the future.

Day 324 - I Believe

 I BELIEVE

Promot - I Believe : Write your personal credo of things you believe in

I believe in laughter

I believe in music

I believe in art

I believe in people and humanity

I believe in making the lives or ordinary people better

I believe that being welathy is pointless, and contributes nothing to society except division

I believe that education and healthcare and a decent standard of housing are fundamental human rights

I believe the far right are the greatest threat to democracy in the UK, and wider Europe

I believe in Scottish Independence as a vehicle to realising some of the above, as a means to escape the evil divisiveness of politics in England

I believe in staying healthy, active physically and mentally, eating well, as a mans to ageing well

I believe in getting out for a walk every day

I believe in the power of books and reading

I believe in the power of writing to make me feel better about myself

I have no coherent belief system, and have a deep distrust of anyone propogating such notions.  We are all individuals, trying to find our best ways through life.  Cults and belief systems are useful as funds of ideas, but ultimely restrictive to personal development. 

There are good and bad aspects of approaching life to be drawn from religions and other myth based systems, but they are historical artefacts, necessities in times when we did not have the science and education to help us make more sense of the physical world.  But of little use, and much active harm, nowadays.

They are sources of some of the bigotry we see pollutuing out lives.  I am against any form of discrimination against groups or individuals based on any inate characterisitics - gender, skin colour, place of birth, sexuality, age, etc etc.  It is fine to take positions against the political and social viws of adults becuase those are choices.  Whereas discrimination on religious grounds is a grey area.  It is a choice, but sometimes one that societies make hard to avoid.  If everyone is being brought up to think that way then it's hard to go against that force.  But ultimately superstious belief (which is what religion is a subset of) can not be an excuse for bigotry.  It is too often ued to justify misogyny, homophobia racism etc.  The KKK purports to be a christian group!

As said above there is no coherence to my beleifs.  There is no 'system' as such, other than a degree of tolerance.  But zero tolerance for bigots.

Live life as you want to live it, live the life that makes you happy, while being aware of the needs of the community you are a part of, taking a part in it, and doing no harm to others.  And enjoy art, for it is what makes us human.  That's the best summary I can come up with.

Day 323 - Decade

 DECADE

Prompt - Decade : Choose a favourite decade and write about it

Decisions, decisions.  Do I choose a personal favourite, when I felt happiest, or the decade before the UK started turning into the toxic shithole it has become in recent years?  Especailly considering that the former is also the most sriking example to demonstrate the latter progression...

My personal favourite has been the decade just gone.  What do we call it?  The Tens?  The Teens?  Whatever name history bestows, it was a hugely enjoyable ten years for me, between 2010 and 2019.  It began with retirement, and the chance to do with life as I wished.  And hten, other than my diagnosis of gout, and the annoyance that breifly brought, it turned into a decade of self development, of change and discovery, of enjoyment.  It took me fro a nice house in Southport to a wonderful flat in Edinburgh.  From a relatively sterile fan of motor racing to an active fan of first hockey, then rugby.  From someone who wrote a daily diary and little else into someone who wrote something, anything, every day, and which would eventually lead to this year of coming up with short stories and poems.  From being moderately fit to being able to walk for hours.  And who had, sort of, returned to gym work.  From being unsure about how th rest of life would turn out, to finding some sense of purpose, and getting to enjoy so much creativity laid before me.  It has been a happy decade.

It also allowed m to develop a new approach to life.  To treat life as a series of phases, either major or minor, and not to dwell too long on the phase gone by, but to concentrae on making the best of the phase ahead.  The most major examples of that were leaving paid employment, and the move north back to my home town.  But along the way there has been losing the social activity of being in the Caps family, the move into the new flat, the recognition that Advocard work was something I was quite good at.  All adjustments to be made, taken into the daily fabric of life.

There has also been my development as a writer (of sorts).  The discovery of 750words and the help that gave me in becoming committed to writing every single day  (I am currently on a 1409 day streak, which started well back into my chosen decade!).  The impetus to start a blog, which has now been going, in fits and starts, for over nine years.  That leading into the hobby of writing reviews of the shows and films I go to see.  And on into what would become the 365 project this year, with, I hope, more to come.

My creativity has extended to the visual, with the enjoyment of Instagram, although I did let myself down by finally buying the DSLR I'd been promising, then failing to learn to use it!

At the same time our new found liesure has increased our consumption of live culture, and sport.  That's been enhanced by the move to Edinburgh.  The golden years were 2015 to 2018, when we truly had life sorted.  Summers spent at all the wonderful festivals - Trad, Film, Jazz, Fringe etc - and a winter of going to our second home at Murrayfield Ice Rink, where we became a part of the furniture, where we elt we fitted in.  It was sad when the Caps period came to an end, but I was lucky to them move on to Edinburgh Rugby, which would ultimately lead on to reconnection with my oldest friend.

In contrast to that hugely enjoyable personal life, the political background has been disastrous.  We moved up to Scotland in 2014, full of hope for independence, and I played a minor role in the campaign, only to have those hopes shattered.  Worse was to come two years later with the madness of Trump and brexshit.  The latter continues to make lives worse, and there's more to come.  But those events were part of the logical flow that began in the eighties, with Regan and the vile Thatcher.  Ever since I watched the rise of far right influence in UK politics, and that is currently our greaest danger.  

Which is why I'd choose the seventies as my best decade in the wider world, alhough less so if you were part of any minorities.  But the far right were a bad joke, with scum like the BNP enjoying risible support.  For all that there were serious problems in that decad, like three day weeks and the winter of discontent, they were share problems.  The UK was a far happier place pre Thatcher's divisiveness, mostly because it was more equal.  And that's something we have to learn to recapture. Roll on Indy...

Day 313 - Playground

 PLAYGROUND

Prompt - Playground : Whether it is the swings or the sandbox or the sliding boards, write about your memories of being on a playground

I do not know if I am odd or not, but my memories of my childhood seem to be far less clear than many other people I've talked to about the subject.  Or less clear than they claim their recollections to be.  For we all know memory is fallible.  We are able to recall particular highs and lows, but the daily habits of existence become strangers to us, to be replaced by new habits, and replaced again, as our lives change.  So I feel I am unclear about my earliest memory, and some of the contenders only really exist in my consciousness because of photos I've seen.   All of which is by way of saying that what I am about to relate comes through rose tinted vision and is both selective and unreliable.

The word playground primarily conjures up images of hard concrete and tarmac expanses at school, either kicking a small ball around, or playing the sort of games children played in the sixties.  But a playground with swings and slides and the like?  There would have been plenty around, yet none stick in my mind, bar one.  And that one carries with it the (imagined?) golden magic of summers outside the city.

Each year the family would take a cottage in the small village of Stow, which sits on the A7 a few miles to the north of Galashiels, and I would spend a good part of my summer holidays there.  Sometimes with my parents, mostly with a grandmother and great aunt.  There may have been others who came to stay for a time, but I don't remember other kids being among them.

So I'd explore the village, go for walks, make my own entertainment.  There was a burn in the woods, down in the valley (probably only a slight dip in the landscape, but to a small boy...) where I wasn't supposed to go, but still managed to fall in a couple of times.  The graveyard, which dated back many centuries, became a place of fascination.  But the one place that was both a parentally approved destination, and somewhere I wanted to be, was the playground in the public park.  

It's a few years since I drove down the A7, but the last time I did I saw there was a still a play facility there.  Easy to see as it's on the right , in open space, a bit before the village proper starts.  It didn't look much like the playground of my memories, for it had been updated, and made a lot safer.  No more falling onto the solid concrete of my day.  

I remember a slide, a roundabout and some swings.  If there was more then it's been consigned to my mental dustbin.  I remember lots and lots of sunny days, but this was Scotland so even I'm suspicious of that one.  Mostly I went there accompanied by elderly relatives, who would sit on a bench and watch me entertain myself.  It's strange, but I don't recall there ever being any other kids there at the same time as me.  Where were the locals?  Maybe they were all holidaying in Edinburgh!  There must have been some, but not a single one has lasted in my mind over the decades.

It's the roundabout I remember best.  Especially for the days when my dad came down, for then it would move much faster and for longer that I was capable of managing on my own.  Plus he was the only one of the family up for that bit extra speed.  But mostly I still see myself propelling it round and round on my own, until I was too tired or dizzy, or was called home for my tea.  I have no recall of what I was thinking, other than 'faster, faster', or sense of whether I felt privileged or lonely or excited.  It was what we did, it was what it was, and I was a child used to spending time on his own and in my own head.  

My playground is not a sociable place.

Day 309 - Cute as a Button

 CUTE AS A BUTTON

Prompt - Cute as a Button : Write about something you think is adorable

The noise upsets her, as it does so many pets.  Fireworks nights are bad nights for cats and she is no exception.  Even though she's one of the lucky ones.  It's all happening at a distance for her.  Up here, on the sixth floor, with an outlook into the darkness of the cemetery, the flashes and bangs are far off, removed.  In here, up here, they can cause no alarms for humans, excepting those with autism etc.  But they can still upset a cat for whom the nature and origins of the sights and sounds outside are beyond their comprehension.  

And so she withdraws, to her safe space.  The place of retreat when threats enter her domain, the one she's used to being able to dominate, with the fellow residents she can manipulate with ease.  Threats like small children, any bearer of loud noises and sudden movements, anyone who threatens her live-in companions.  Under our bed, among the storage boxes, she feels she is away from it all, that nothing can touch her.  Not even me.  I can elicit a response if I lie down and stretch out my arm to be sniffed.  But if she doesn't want to come out, she doesn't.

Stay there for now little one.  You must do what's right for you.  Whatever that is, whenever you choose to join us again, you remain the cutest of the cute, the adorable centre of life in this flat.  You are Zoe.

Day 295 - Apple a Day

 APPLE A DAY

Prompt - Apple a Day : Write about a health topic that interests you

As we get older our concerns in life shift.  And since, obviously, the older we get the nearer we are to our own eventual end, the subject of death, and our health more widely, becomes an increasingly common preoccupation.  For most of us the notion of our own mortality is something that we are at first wholly unaware of, then choose to ignore, for it seems to have little relevance to our younger selves.  But eventually the moment will come when it pokes it's head up - the death of a parent, a health scare, a friend dying or becoming seriously ill at an early age, and other similar events can raise our own awareness that we all share the same fate in the end.  And once it's there it's never going away...

Some readers will be aware that Barbara had her own reminder of this.  A routine bowel screening test showed up internal bleeding, which then revealed a small cancerous growth in her colon.  The resultant surgery went well and she's going to make a full recovery, but it's one of those reminders, isn't it?  We are not immortal, we are not perfect.  And the older we get the more the wear and tear on our bodies will tell.

I have no fear of being dead.  It will feel like it was before I was born - nothingness.  But the dying bit, and the potential for pain and suffering that could bring, well I'm not so keen on those aspects.  So my focus on my own health isn't so much about prolonging my life as far into the future as possible, but about trying to ensure that for however many years I do have left I'm in a condition to enjoy them.  Still as physically and mentally sharp as my body will allow me to be.

Advice on what that entails changes all the time, but most of the basics are pretty obvious.  For all that a great deal of how the future pans out is going to owe much to my unalterable genetic inheritance, and the way I've lived my life to date, there's still a lot can be done by eating healthily, and exercising brain and body.  I would like to be able to manage my own decline, as far as possible.

In the past much of the emphasis has been on aerobic fitness as one of the best ways to prolong health as we get older.  Recent thinking has seen the emergence of maintaining decent muscle tone being as, or even more, important in ensuring that getting older doesn't mean gradual incapacity.  So a bit of physical exercise every day, including some weight resistance activity.  Nothing too strenuous, just enough to make sure everything is kept in reasonable working order.  And looking for new ideas, new games, new mental challenges to keep the mind exercised too.    

I intend to keep trying to do what's needed for me to be able to do the things I most want to do - getting out every day, walking a few kilometres each day, getting myself to gigs and plays and films, reading and writing and laughing.  And for as many years as possible.

A few years ago, having had a very swollen and very painful left foot, I was diagnosed with gout.  So I took the doctor's advice, and sought out information on the internet, and adjusted my diet accordingly.  That mostly meant drinking a lot of water each day, and no alcohol.  Although I now consume a very occasional glass of the latter, my overall consumption must be about 90+% less than it was before the diagnosis, and I continue to down water like I'd just emerged from the Sahara.  I know of other gout sufferers who have chosen to ignore this approach, and still happily down their pints and drams as they always did.  While I can understand reluctance to give up old habits, I never liked the drink so much that I'd want to risk the pain of a gout attack, or, more importantly, the inconvenience it can bring.  Being housebound is not my idea of enjoying life (nor crawling about the flat on all fours, as I did during the worst bout - Barbara thought we'd acquired a dog...).  

Quality, not quantity.

Day 285 - Repeat

 REPEAT

Prompt - Repeat : Write about a time when you had to make a difficult choice

There are important discussions you have to rush, because failure to do so will make things worse, and there are others where the time spent on coming to the answer is well worth it, for the end result needs to be carefully considered.  If there's an immovable deadline there can be no choice but to have to pick a way forward, even if not fully informed.  But where time isn't an issue, and especially if the choice to be made determines how life will then unfold, then best to gather as much information as possible, and carefully examine the options.

In the nineties I recall having to make many decisions, but one in each of the above categories stands out.  The informed choice ended up with me splitting from my first wife, and finding a much happier life.  The realisation that I could do so much better came out of an affair, which then ended.  But it taught me to value myself more, made me realise I could be someone and do things I didn't think I was capable of, and that I would be able to live a happier life on my own than in a broken marriage.  It took years to get to that point, and the story would have a very happy ending, because the person I had had the affair with reached the same decision a little later, and we have been together for twenty eight years.  But getting to the point of going for it took months, years, of deliberation, looking at alternatives, procrastination, indecision, but ultimately the right choice.  

The time-pressured choice came in '99, when I was a so-called 'millennium bug' project manager.  So there was a clear deadline to meet, a plan to be adhered to as best I could, but knowing that along the way there would be points where things weren't working out as envisaged, and then I would be faced with difficult judgements.  Times when I would have to rely on instinct as much as information and opinion.  In this case both my deputies were pressing me to delay the next stage of the rollout, arguing that there were too many flaws in the software.  they were right in that respect, but the bigger picture was the impact of delaying this stage on the overall plan, and what that would do for our already fragile credibility in the user community.  I went against their advice, told them I would take full responsibility and let my board know that I was doing this in the face of a very considered reluctance from my team.  It was a nerve wracjking moment, and I suspect I lost a lot of sleep that night, but I knew that, whether right or wrong in the end, it was essential that I do something.  Eventually my choice proved to be the right one, to my relief (and my team's surprise!), but it could so easily have backfired.  Yet not as much as deferring and deferring and making no decision at all.  Leadership is like that.

Day 282 - Promise to Yourself

 PROMISE TO YOURSELF

Prompt - Promise to Yourself : Write about a promise you want to make to yourself and keep

2021 has been my best year for writing.  The 365 challenge has pushed me most days, and although I've not managed to produce something for every single one, I have written more stories, and poems, that I ever have in my life before.  Despite having wished I could write since my teenage years.  Despite having attended a creative writing course in 1988, and writing several stories then.  And despite my attempt at 'therapy after my breakdown in which I even went on a journey to Skegness simply to try and get a story out of it (which I did, but never managed to complete it).  So the 365 Challenge has been by far the most successful of all my efforts.

Which leads me to my promise, which is to not let that progress fade away.  If 2021 was my year for writing very short stories - few reach a thousand words - 2022 must be the year where I produce longer works.  That will mostly be short stories, but of three, four, or five thousand words.  Or, if I'm really making the effort, an attempt at a novella.  But these are fairly vague notions, so I'm going to go into detail, and come up with something that will be a kind of outline plan to put, and keep, me on the right course.

Step One is to complete the 365 challenges I missed out on this year.  At present there are nine subjects on the list, and I am determined it shouldn't slip beyond a dozen.  (There have been a few others, but I've managed to catch up on some of them.)  Which means my first 750s of 2022 will be used completing the days I missed out on.  

While I'm doing this I need to begin on Step Two, which is to read three or four about being a writer, and see what lessons I can learn.  I need to try and take that as a serious exercise, aimed at improving the way I writer and come up with ideas.  

Then I need to look at writing some longer stories, which is where Step Three begins.  It seems sensible to return to some of the ideas I has twelve years ago, when I had the breakdown.  There were four stories based around train journeys, three of them slightly twisted love tales, two had a fair bit written by were never completed, the others have only a few notes, but the basic concepts are still in my mind.  The first of them, based on the trip to Skeggie, will have to be rewritten from scratch, as Barbara found it hard to identify with either of the central characters.  The other was more promising and she wanted to know what came next.  Me too!

Step Four, which can start a bit later, but run in parallel to Three, is to share some of my 2021 stories, from Bits and Pieces, on writing websites where writers can read and criticise one another.  I might not like the feedback, but I must look at it as a way to get better.

And Step Five, if I can keep the above going and feel I've achieved things, is to try to write a novella about the guy who can be in two places at once.  That would be really stretching myself.

Finally, I should have mentioned Step Zero, which is for this year - get on with editing some of the stories I have written, and add them to my Bits and Pieces blog, let a few people have a read.  Who knows, I might get a reaction one day?

That's the promise.  To end 2022 with a few longer short stories, to have shared some of my better pieces with other writers, and to have at least begun to try and write something more ambitious.  Despite my long history of failure I have more confidence than ever before that I can really start to move on.  The 365 Challenge will only have been really worthwhile if I do.

Day 276 - Doodle

 DOODLE

Prompt - Doodle : Spend some time today doodling for about 5-10 minutes.  Write about the thoughts you had while doodling, or create something inspired by your finished doodle.

My doodling invariably becomes colouring in, if I have more than one colour of pen available, or shading in if not.  I like to see what patterns turn up from drawing a few lines on a page, then move on into becoming something more visually interesting.  And today I did that again, after a gap of - I don't know how long.  But that simple act took me back to when I was more prolific in producing this kind of visual decoration.

It was a habit to do something like this to boost my mood when I was bored at work.  And, for several years, it was a daily habit in the paper diaries I used to keep.  There were several variations of this.  Some of these volumes, A4 in size, had several of these designs in them.  

Many were like the picture I drew today, with swirling lines intersecting and creating strangely shaped and variously sized spaces.  These would then be coloured in, usually with solid colours, in a far more meticulous and time consuming process than that I've done today.  They would be completed gradually over the course of the year.  

But the most interesting ones were the 'date snakes'.  On the first of January I would create a small outline shape, at random on the page.  Then it would be filled in with some colour or colours, and the number 1.  The following day another shape would be drawn to adjoin the first one, this time with contrasting colour and the number 2.  And so on, all the way to 365.  The challenge was to get the snake to near enough fill the A4 page on the final day of the year, so the 'snake' had to wend it's way carefully, not get blocked or snarled up within itself, so that it filled the space at the right time, and not before.  The shapes would vary in size and detail, usually getting a bit larger once I hit three figures, and again at two hundred.

A lost art, to me at least, for my diaries are all online nowadays, have been for several years.  The date snake would never get started, let alone completed.  And I think I already have enough daily challenges with my 11k steps, 750 words and 365 writing!  But todays' exercise reminded me of those times, and how lovely some of the end products were.  Maybe colour means more to me than I realise...

Day 263 - Symbolism

 

SYMBOLISM

Prompt - Symbolism : Think of object, animals etc that have symbolic meaning to you.  Write about it!

We are all a mix of different talents and abilities.  With different ways of looking at the world.  Some are more adept at seeing things numerically and mathematically, some in images, others in words, or sounds or smells.  Each individual will process the same scene in different ways to all others.  Of course we are all a constantly changing mix of these attributes, but most people have one or two of those traits which are most prominent in their way of thinking and of learning about their surroundings.

So what's all that got to do with symbolism?  It's my way of getting round to saying that the visual is not my dominant way of thinking.  I am largely a words person, sometimes numerical, sometimes sound.  My visual imagination is comparatively limited, and I use images less than others.  So I don't really think much in terms of symbols.

Of course there are some symbols which make me react more than others, and I'll come to a couple of those in a minute.  But I don't have any tendency to think of animals symbolically, except in their relation to the kind of imagery used in writing, especially in times long gone by.  When asked to think of the symbols that mean something personal to me I struggle to come up with an answer.  Or at least a consistent one.  There are various symbols at various times that will have meaning, or objects with which I imbue symbolic resonances, but it's hard to think of a constant symbol in my life.

So in tackling this subject I found myself pondering on two symbols that reflect my political, and emotional, thinking right now, and have for the past seven years.  One I react negatively to.  The blue, red and white UK flag, aka The Butcher's Apron.  I found it more offensive with every year that passes, because what it stands for is less and less tolerable.  The UK is a broken institution, and that flag is now a symbol of the ongoing disasters of brexshit.

But my positive choice of image is the one I've chosen to head up this post.  It was created by Stewart Bremner for the 2014 Independence campaign, and became one of the most recognisable images of the time.  And it has become a part of my life.  On small pictures around the flat, on my favourite mugs, on a tee shirt.  The image of Bella Caledonia is a powerful symbol, one associated with seeing independence for this country as the chance to create a much improved, fairer society, than the one the UK fosters.  Where greed and inequality, symbolised by the monarchy, are no longer the dominant factors they have become in Westminster.

A symbol that hints at a better future is a symbol worth keeping.