Ding Dong Merrily On Bloody High.

Seasons Greetings folks!
Here’s a wee present for you:

Bob Dylan ‘Must Be Santa’.

I don’t care!
I love this!

Hipgnosis.

I need to be in a certain mood to listen to Pink Floyd.
You just do don’t you?

It’s not like you can casually have ‘Shine On You Crazy Diamond’ on in the car and absorb it properly.
You need to be in the right mood.

I’m feeling that way today.
Tonight I’m gonna listen to my favourite Pink Floyd album:
‘Animals’.

Pink Floyd always have jaw droppingly good album art and the artwork on ‘Animals’ is par for the course:

I could look at it for hours.

I decided to see if I could find the artist online and came up with the name ‘Hipgnosis‘.

Typed it into Wikipedia.
Turns out that yep,
They did indeed come up with the ‘Animals’ art.
But!
Click HERE and look at their Discography!

Canon Maher.

“Meant to say to you, Canon Maher died a few weeks ago”.

- “What? How old was he?”

“Old.
He was almost 89.
He was done and in an old folks home for Priests”.

My Mum said that to me a couple of days ago.

Canon Maher was the Priest for the Chapel I grew up in.
Well,
The Chapel where I was forced to spend a lot of my time until I turned 12 and left it all behind.

Canon Maher (I never knew his first name though I since learned that it was Gerald) was a HUGE influence on my life.
There was no way he couldn’t be really.

There was a time when I listened to every word he used to say every Sunday.
I listened to him at school when he made his weekly visit,
I listened to him every Easter.
I even listened to him on Christmas Day.

He and the masses he held were a big part of my life until the age of 12.
(I went to High School soon after).
Shaped me a little.

Canon Maher was the kind of Priest that you only really read about in old books these days.

Never cracked a smile,
Deadly serious about the good book and the word of Christ,
No time for (Ha!) fools.

And definitely! (As I found out at an early age),
He definitely had no time for Dinosaurs or science or logic or pre-pubescent sexual cravings towards nuns in his Chapel.

Nope.
He wouldn’t give any of those things the time of day.

I was brought up Catholic.
It’s one option of 2 things where I come from.

I was taken to Mass every Sunday and sometimes 3 or 4 days during the week in school time.
There were times where I was completely tuned in to Canon Maher’s soothing monotone.

Other times,
My 10 year old mind would wander and I’d get myself lost in the faces of the ominous statues staring down at me from all angles.

The Apostles: Watching me.
Jesus: Judging me.
Every Other Statue: Disappointed in me.

At 12 years old,
I’d had enough of feeling guilty before I’d had the chance to commit almighty sins.

I mean,
I’d yet to go hit High School and discover Girls and Whisky & Smoking.
Ha!
Girls & Whisky & Smoking.
Because of my Dad, I was already into 50’s Rock &Roll.
God fucking bless him!

God didn’t save me.
Jerry Lee Lewis, Lloyd Price & Little Richard did.

Okay, Okay.
Maybe they didn’t ‘Save’ me but they were definately better Apostles than Jesus’ mob.

Why are all the most enjoyable things forbidden in Chapel?

So,
Canon Maher was a big influence on me.

Do you know about the Catholic practice of ‘Confession’?
I was sent to ‘Confession’ with Canon Maher every single week of my life until I was 12.

You go into a wee booth and tell the Priest what sins you’ve committed.
I used to genuinely confess to sins when I was really young.
(“I told a lie”, “I said a sweary word” etc…)

It was drilled into me.
If I didn’t,
They said I’d go to the Fiery Furnaces of Hell and burn forever.

FUCK THAT.

Whas a guy t’do!

Round about the age of 10 I got wise to it.
My best memories of Canon Maher are of when I was 10.

Before I decided that Religion was of no use to me,
I discussed it with Canon Maher and the conversation will stick with me until the day I die.

Me: “Father,
I just don’t think I believe the stories in that book you gave me are true.
I just don’t”.

Maher: “Why do you have doubts my son?”

Me: “No offence Father but, have you read it?
Have you properly read it?”

Maher: “Many times my son.
Many many times.
At your age, I can see why you’re confused.
Go on”.

Me: “Well, Father,
The thing is,
Here’s me trying my best to believe in the book and every week I sit here and listen to you.
Don’t get me wrong,
I’d love to believe in the stories of Jesus and what you say.
I mean,
Those stories are GREAT!

Thing is though Father,
I go to school on a Monday and they back up what you’re saying.
But I also get told about evolution and Dinosaurs and it’s completely confusing me”.

Maher: “Well…

Me: “And also Father,
The news on TV had proof of Dinosaur bones the other day and my Dad (My real Father who’s Protestant)
Doesn’t have to go to Mass at all and he gets on fine”.

Maher: “The important thing to remember is that Jesus loves you”.

Me: “Well…

Maher: “It is also important to remember that Jesus died because of you”.

Me: “What?
Me?
But I’m only 10”.

So that was it.
I didn’t kill Jesus.

Canon Maher was a very kind and old fashioned man but as soon as he said that to me,
I was out.

I had to go to Chapel until I was 12 but I no longer had to listen to it.

I’m sad to hear he’s gone.
He believed and I didn’t and don’t but I have great memories of this man.

In the weekly queue for confession,
At 11 or 12 years old,
My mind would wander and I’d forget what I was about to confess to.
Result?:
Me quickly making up on-the-spot lies.

After a few weeks of making up fake confessions I’d start to see how far I could push Canon Maher.
I remember this one the best:

“Bless me Father for I have sinned.
It has been a week since my last confession”.

Maher: “What are your sins my son?”

Me: “Well, this week I’ve been really good.
I don’t think I’ve sinned once all week!”

Maher: “I’ve been a Priest for a long time.
Surely there must be some sins my son?
No matter how small”.

Me: “Well,… no.
There really hasn’t been any.
Nun.
Gettit Father”?

“Although!
Speaking of nuns…
When I was sitting on the pews out there about to come in here,
Some very un-Catholic thoughts crossed my mind about some of your nuns Father”.

Maher:  “This is a very serious matter.
Are you repentant?”

Me:       “I……Yes.
I suppose I am but I really couldn’t help it”.

Maher: “Your penance (Prayers that absolve you of sin) is 15 Hail Mary’s,
4 Our Father’s and a Glory Be To The Father!”

Me: “That much?”

“Your Penance” means prayers folks and for that Nun thing,
I was dealt a heavy sentence.

So that was me.
I left Canon Maher and the Confessional.
I knelt in front of a statue of Christ Crucified,
And pretended to say my 20 prayers.

Then I got up,
Left the Chapel,
And went on to commit the sins that would make me the flawed man I am today.

It’s funny,
Catholic faith was ingrained into me to the point that,
Although I’m faithless and believe none of it,
I still get Catholic guilt now and again about certain things today.

Sometimes I even get guilty about getting Catholic guilt.
Maybe that’s a useful thing.

28 Years old,
A sinner,
Happy,
Still confused.

PS: This is just me writing down memories of Canon Maher so I won’t be entertaining any offence you may take so get fucked.

PPS: I learned some of the loveliest music in Chapel when I was 10.

PPPS: I found a link mentioning Canon Maher HERE.

Ray Davies In Concert 2009.

I took my Dad along to see Ray Davies last night.

Know what,
It was pretty fucking good!
Not fucking great!
Fucking good.

I wasn’t convinced at the start.
I love Ray Davies’ songs and I’d heard that these days,
His shows are like Ray doing Karaoke versions of his own songs.

It wasn’t quite like that but he turned a lot of classic songs into crappy crowd sing-a-longs.

It’s that thing isn’t it.
That thing where once almightily talented people get to a certain age where they can’t do it anymore.
Or if they can do it,
It comes off as ridiculous.
Know what I mean?

Anyways,
I didn’t get that from last night.
Ray was cool.

The first half of the concert was acoustic and he sounded like a good busker.
That’s alright with me!

It was good.
He was funny and obviously out to enjoy himself.
As everyone knows,
He’s a great storyteller too.
He’s an even better storyteller with a couple of drinks in him!

Remember that time a few years ago when Ol’ Ray got shot in Ny’awlins?
We’ll he tells that tale and it’s hilarious.

I was enjoying it.
I thought “This is okay man!”
Then!
Then he strapped on a blue Stratocaster and brought his band out and the fun really began.

I’m terrible for remembering setlists but I remember ‘Till The End Of The Night’.
It was loud and crunchy and ballsy as fuck.
Highlights that I remember were:

‘A Well Respected Man’,
‘I Need You’
& ‘I’m Not Like Everybody Else’.
Oh aye!
He did a tune called ‘The Morphine Song’ which I liked and hadn’t heard before.

(Obviously there were other highlights like ‘Waterloo Sunset’ & ‘Dead End Street’)

I walked in not really knowing what to expect and left pretty pleased.

Listening to his voice and watching his hands,
It looks to me that Ray Davies still sings his tunes in the same keys he originally recorded them in.
That goes a long way for me.

My Dad liked it too.

Dad broke every rule in the auditorium but I think he got some decent photos.
I’ll stick them up on here whenever he mails them to me.

I had to leave a wee bit early so I missed the last song.

It was probably ‘Lola‘.

All in all,
A surprisingly good gig.

‘Hebridean Humpty’ Illustration.

In THIS post I mentioned ‘Hebridean Humpties’.

I’m trying to convince the person who makes them that I’m the illustrator for her.

Grave Robbing.

Went up The Necropolis the other morning to do some Grave robbing.
I managed to get a couple of rubbings too:

What’s Happened To Paul McCartney?

Speaking of Beatles…
What the fuck has happened to Paul McCartney?

How can this:

Be the same man as this:

?

Ability to sing?
Gone.
Self respect?
Gone.

Jesus.

The Beatles Apple USB.

I like records.
I like the scratchy sound they make when you drop the needle.
I’m not one for gadgets at all.
I’m really not but have you seen the new Beatles Apple USB thingy?:

I’d never buy this or anything like it but I think this looks bloody lovely.
Look how it comes apart:

According to the Beatles Online Shop it does this:

“The unique, apple-shaped USB drive is loaded with the re-mastered audio for The Beatles’ 14 stereo titles, as well as all of the re-mastered CDs’ visual elements, including 13 mini-documentary films about the studio albums, replicated original UK album art, rare photos and expanded liner notes. A specially designed Flash interface has been installed, and the 16GB USB’s audio and visual contents will be provided in FLAC 44.1 Khz 24 bit and MP3 320 Kbps formats, fully compatible with PC and Mac”.

Nice eh?

Tourettes Rab.

I was thinking about Tourettes Syndrome this morning and how bad it must be to have it.
I mean It must be fucking terrible.
It reminded me…

It’s 2005 or 2006.
I’m standing at this train station waiting for a train.

‘How’s it goin’ FUCK! Alan?”

(Few people actually call me Alan these days).
(Fewer folk call me ‘FUCK! Alan?)’.

Not many,
But fewer.
…These days.

Let’s just call this guy Robert.
Okay, Rab.

Rab was the wee brother of a guy I used to know called T**mas.

For the sake of anonymity we’ll call him Tam here.

I knew Tam as a 9 year old.
Rab was maybe 6 or 7 years old.
A crazy crazy kid even at that age.
A wild troublemaker which he got form his brother Tam & me.

Looking back,
It must have been boredom but No!
Thinking about it,
We were just mean lttle bastards who liked to smash windows.

Me & Tam used to smash windows (A lot),
We set many a field on fire and watched them burn,
We made obscene phonecalls specifically to old ladies,
We’d actually plot out whopping great lies to tell at confession at This Chapel on a Sunday etc… etc…

Innocent stuff like that.

Anyways,
Tam’s wee brother Rab used to (Unfortunately for him) look up to us.

So much so that when I grew up,
My thoughts about what became of Rab were:

(a) In jail.
(b) In hospital. In jail.

He was hyperactive in the extreme, always in trouble and even at 8 years old he used to worry even me.

Some of my memories are unrepeatable.
That’s just the way it is.

ANYWAYS.

So,
Years pass and I meet him at this train station.

“Hows it goin’….MOTHERFUCK! Alan?’.

(Did he just say “Motherfucker”?)

Me: Jesus. Rab? How y’doin’?

Rab: ‘Okay. I’m making money and so far, things are okay’.

Me: Rab! That’s brilliant. Y’know, when I was a kid, I always thought, Poor Rab, He’ll never survive jail.’.

Rab: ‘Ah hahahaha.
Well, hehehe, I was out of control back then.
A worry to my Mum.
And speaking of Mums, How’s yours?
AHFUCKINGMOTHERFUCKINGSILVERFUCKFUCK!”.

(Did he just say: “AHFUCKINGMOTHERFUCKINGSILVERFUCKFUCK”?
Did he?
Nah.
He couldn’t have).

So we spoke for a half an hour on the train.
After 7 minutes I was sure this guy had tourettes.

“So Alan, Your sister,
GRANNYFUCKBITCH!!!!!!!!!!!
How’s she getting on?”

Me: (Doing my best not to fucking explode laughing then die) She’s a journalist. She’s ….good”.
How’s your brother Tam? Still a maniac?”

Rab: Heheheh Tam!? Tam’s brilliant.
He’s a Fa…Fa…Fa…..TWISTEDNUTCUNTSACK!!!…! Father! now.

Me: A Father eh? ….Imagine that.
Rab,
This is my stop now.

(It wasn’t).

Nice t’see you again.
You tell Tam I said Hi.

Rab: “Se…Ssss…Se…NUTFUCKER!”
Sssss….Se..Se….See ya Alan!”

Me: Yep!

I think I spent a good 15 minutes on the train station platform dying!
Killing myself laughing until my belly was sore.
No guilt was even involved in this folks.

It was when he came out with:
“GRANNYFUCKBITCH!”
That almost killed me.
I think it’s because he just carried on as if it never happened.
Keeping my laughter in actually almost stopped my heart.

I spoke to people who used to know him and it seems like he developed Tourettes.

Can you develop Tourettes?
Can you?