Ani Rinchen Palmo

           The lama whose kindness to me over the last eight years, since I met her on the Holy Isle, has brightened my life, came to stay in my flat last night on her way back to Belgium. She stayed on her way to the Holy Isle a fortnight ago so I've been twice blessed.

           She was on holiday, I suppose, and went to the Holy Isle to re-visit the "pod" she lived in for sixteen years. I wish I'd taken a photo of it the last time I was on the Holy Isle. It's kind of cut into the hill with a turf roof which fits in with the surrounding ground. She told me the view from the front door is etched forever in her mind. 

            I'm stuck for words. A very impressive person!!

Hugh Collins

 

             I read The Autobiography of a Murderer and was most surprised to see that Hugh Collins had been very complimentary about my brother Malcolm in it.  My brother was a prison officer in the Special Unit in Barlinnie Prison and Hugh Collins did some time there. Anyway, I thought it would be nice for my mother to get a signed copy of the book so I contacted Hugh Collin's publisher and asked them to get a message to him about this.

            If I hadn't been an author myself, I wouldn't have dreamt of doing that, but I got a response and agreed (through his partner, I think) to meet him in Shambles, the name of a pub (now called Hector's) in Stockbridge. He never turned up and I thought fair enough. Then I got another message from his partner saying he'd been standing across the road for a bit and had been too anxious to come over. So another meeting was set up and he showed up this time.

           I hardly said a word for the next two hours. He was high on something. I don't know what, but I looked like something I might have liked myself. So he talked and talked and it was great just listening, but I never got him to sign the book which I'd brought along. So outside the pub I thought that was that, and was prepared to go home without the signing, especially since I'd forgotten to bring a pen.

          A taxi pulls up outside what's now known as the Stockbridge Tap and this big, big guy gets out of cab and Hugh asks him if he can borrow a pen. So the guy, who has been drinking, has a pen and lends it to Hugh who starts to write something nice about my brother in the book. I says to the guy from the taxi that this is typical Stockbridge, having some author signing a book on the pavement. And the guy asks what the book is called. The Autobiography of a Murderer. Hugh is handing the guy his pen back and the guy jocularly asks if he's a murderer. I got out after serving sixteen years for murder, said Hugh. I'll never forget the look on the taxi guy's face. Loved it.

        He wrote some fiction too, at least two crime books. I really enjoyed them, particularly The Licensee was very good. It's about the smack trade in Glasgow, written obviously by someone in the know. Definitely worth a read.

        I'm writing this because I read his obituary in The Times today. I dedicated the meditation this evening to him. Real shame to hear about his death. He was the same age as me. Brilliant night in the pub though!!

First draft of Cold Killing finished.

                        

                         In the middle of last week I finished the first draft of a novel I've been working on for ages. Of course, I'm not writing much these days, not compared to the amount of time I used to spend writing. But it felt very good to reach this milestone. I'd forgotten how good such things could be.

                         It's called Cold Killing, and it's the second thriller I've tried to write. I finished the first draft of Remote Control about 1981 and didn't complete it till about 2000. Then the agent I was writing it for turned out to be a crook and the book only sent out to one publisher. The same fate will probably fall to this Cold Killing. But it's good to have something I can footer with every now and again. 

                          The pubs near where I sometimes stay in Newington exploded onto the street with much joyousness when England lost the Euros in the penalty shoot out last night. Hurrah!! They played the whole of the 1966 World Cup Final on the telly the night before. If they'd won last night, we would never have heard the end of it. 

Garden visit to the care home

 

                    I haven't seen my brother Hughie for over a year. These days this is not unusual. I haven't seen my friend with the MS for over a year either, but yesterday me and my brother Davy and nephew Kevin had the first "garden" visit with brother Hughie in the Highgate Care Home in Viewpark.

                     Davy drove us there which was a relief when I saw how completely different the road from Bellshill to Viewpark has become. Too much traffic and too many roundabouts and I'm glad I didn't try to cycle there. 

                     There's a statue to Jimmy Johnstone, the amazingly good Celtic football player, in Viewpark. I first saw Jimmy Johnstone when he took his girlfriend to watch a Bellshill Athletic match in Brandon Park. He'd just got into the Celtic first team. And now there's a statue of him on the road through Viewpark. Who'd have believed it!!                   

Another Open Grave

 

          Yesterday, I was in a restaurant for the second time in over a year. The first time was about ten days ago and they weren't selling alcohol inside then, so I thought it was safe to meet the old toothless one, the baldy Brian Wilson for lunch.

           I noticed folk in the restaurant downstairs drinking inside a couple of days ago, and I tried to get out of going for lunch with Brian Wilson, especially when he booked us a table outside some joint I'd never heard of. This is when it was pouring outside and in the coldest May anybody can remember.

          I tried to organise a visit to my brother, who is now in a care home in Viewpark, but it seems that I have to wait for a slot in two weeks. The old toothless one is not in a care home yet, but it can't be long now, and I thought I'd better go to the lunch since I did promise him a couple of weeks ago.

          Brian Wilson was incapable of doing anything without an app, so I called The Roseleaf, a very nice bar restaurant in Leith. They have a blackboard and chalk in the bog. When I went in there, someone had written Brian rules on the blackboard. So I wrote,

                ALL COMPOUNDED THINGS ARE SUBJECT TO DISSOLUTION. 

           I don't think I was trying to be funny with the spelling when  I wrote,

                PURSUE YOUR SALVASHION WITH DILIGENCE

          I think it was another time when I wrote,

                WALK ON.

           I should have taken my own advice. I fell asleep (passed out) on the bus and wakened up in Bruntsfield. At the start of this afternoon, I donned the Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle (bin liner, sweat shirts, sleeveless woollen jumper, simmit) and sweated some beer out. I feel good now and will go up to the allotment to meditate.

          The quote is from my wall. It's my version of what the Buddha said before he died. I think he's supposed to have said the last two lines.

           Brian Wilson sent me the photo today. I haven't had a haircut since before I was in India a couple of  years ago now.

The end of digging and planting

 

          

                    The allotment looked like the bottom photie on the 15th of March, but by yesterday it had been dug over twice and there's not really much room to plant anything else. It started with some leeks from last year, but not it's got brassica, onions, tatties, turnips, and I've put in some carrot seeds.

                    I tried to get into my Kindle publishing account just then and that's the first time I've tried that for .... well, it's probably two years since I could access it. I jumped through a few hoops until it asked me the time limit on a debit card I lost a while back. Then it said I'd have to phone someone and there might be international charges involved. The main thing is that I didn't get annoyed!! 

                     So I'll have another go tomorrow. I got a landline put in because I tried to phone kindle in Seattle when I was shut out before and it drained my mobile phone of all credit. I'd charged it up with thirty quid too. We'll see. I'd like to get back into the account.

                     

Deer

           We usually go out to see some countryside, trees at the weekend because my friend works from home and never gets out. The trees, rivers (usually with Esk in the name somewhere) are good for your head, just being out there and hearing the birdies and all that.

             Today was typical. We went to Musselburgh beach, Inveresk Lodge Garden, and Newhailes Estate. 

              In the lodge garden we saw a deer. This is the third deer I've seen around the Central Belt in the last couple of years. In fact, we saw two at Mavisbank a month or so ago. Last year or the year before we saw on up by a reservoir near Polmont. I thought all the deer in Scotland were in the Highlands, but obviously not. The one in the middle photie is just behind the tree and almost invisible on the photie, but it was a stand out in real life. 

              The bluebells were in a wood on the Newhailes Estate. That's the house in the top photie. 

Allotment photies.

           Been weird trying to remember how to navigate around this bloggy thing, considering it's nearly two years since I could get into it. But I remember why I wanted to use it. I have to delete photies from my OneDrive thing every now and again due to it being full, and them asking money for more storage. So I can stick the photies on my blog

           I finished planting my tatties today. I planted the tulips last year because I spent a lot of the lockdown staring at three tulips in my allotment when the weather was reasonable. Loved having the allotment last year. At the start of the lockdown, I didn't have a face to face conversation for six weeks, but I really liked the lockdown. Stared at the tulips for about an hour just about every day then. Great!

In the war against the machines

 

          Don't know why, or how, but this is the first time in over a year since I was able to get into this blog. 

           Now, I don't know if I want to keep writing in it or not. None of the folk who looked at it before will be doing so now, and ..... anyway, this is a photie of my guitar. I made about £300 from Kindle when I first put my books on it and I kept the money, meaning to buy a guitar with it at some point. £300, eh? Who said writing doesn't pay? 

           The guitar cost £289 and is the same one I bought in my mid twenties, round about the middle of the seventies. Then it cost £25 or thereabouts. This model is better though and I bought it just before the lockdown.

            I haven't been able to get into my Kindle publishing account for a couple of years now. Someone seems to have been hacking it, or some such. Anyway, I can't get into it. Also, I can't buy anything from Amazon for the same reason. My debit card was deleted a fortnight ago because of fraud as well. Isn't the internet just great?