Odyssey Day 1 - The places you don't look at hold sights you can't imagine.

So its taken me a little while to get around to writing this up, for various reasons. But a couple weeks ago I took a little tour of the north in order to catch up with some old friends, some old sights and to generally recharge a little after a lot of tense work times.

So, off I headed on a Friday morning. And by the time I got back on the Sunday evening, I had covered close to 500 miles, and been to the Trafford Centre, Preston (and a number of areas of the city), back over to Manchester (and an even bigger number of areas of the city), out via Werneth Low, through and up Mam Tor, clambered over Stanage Edge, through Sheffield, down to Bubbenhall (near Coventry) and then finally home.

In Preston I had the honour of catching up with some old friends that I hadn't had the chance to see in about two years. We had an absolutely brilliant time at the Continental in Avenham Park, involving a fair amount of Erdinger and general merriment. Now, in this blog I'm making a conscious attempt to not identify individuals, since there are no elements of protection in the limited fashion that occurs on sites like Facebook. So let me simply thank them for an amazing evening of laughs.

One of the parts of the visit that stood out to me was exploration of some of the central areas of Preston that I knew extremely well. But as with all such things, the more you think you know a place, the more surprises you can find.

Seeing that there was going to be a spectacular sunset that evening, I had originally wanted a good vantage point from my hotel, but in the end I decided to venture out and try to find a high point within the city to capture it from. As I wondered through the city, with only Daft Punk as my soundtrack, I came to one of the main multi storey car parks in the city (just on the ring road) and had an idea.

So, I went into the car park and found that the top floors were unused and sealed off from cars. But not from people. The stairs were still open and the top floors deserted. And as I had hoped from looking at the orientation of the building, it was utterly perfect to gain an impeccable view of the sunset, framed directly between two of the high buildings in the centre.

The truly fun thing about it was that there didn't seem to be another single soul in the area. Certainly I was the only one up there watching the spectacle in from of me, and frankly that was something I could barely believe. It was a stunning sunset. And a thought occurred to me then and stays with me now; Sunsets are like Sakura. You can spend your life seeking the perfect one, only to realise that they are all perfect.

So there I was, in a part of a city I thought I knew like the back of my hand, but just by looking at a building I'd passed countless times, I managed to find something truly new, and completely mine.

Ever the helix, ever the waterfall. It all depends upon how you look at it.

Following on from several recent posts, and the discussions they prompted with various people afterwards, my mind has been addressing the topic of the progression through life and how our circles change.

It brought me to an interesting conclusion, and a better understanding of why it is that so many people have such an issue with turning 30.

Now topics such as turning 40 are little more understandable, since it carries with it some concerns over mortality, chiefly that there may now be fewer years before you than behind. We'll tackle that one another day, but suffice it to say that I find it to be a poor way of looking at it, given the pleasures in life.

Turning 30 doesn't carry that particular issue, but it is one point in life where we tend to stop. Take a moment. Call out in the dark, and realise that far fewer voices call back.

In school and university you are often beset on all sides by other like minded souls, and our social lives can truly run. But as we pass out of those times and into work, its very easy, over the years that follow, to lose much of that capacity to hold hands in the dark, and our bonds begin to fail.

At 30 comes the first waypoint where we all tend to stop and take note of the voices that have become too distant. The voices that we can here have often changed as well. Like minded souls are moulded by work and family life that focuses their attention and creates drift. Everyone does it, and don't believe for a moment that you haven't either. We all have, but it is slow and hard to see until a moment causes us to stand in the dark and the wind to see how many voices, with how many candles, stand against the rain.

To many it can seem like an ever tightening helix, our social circles coming in on us ever tighter.

But there are other ways to look at it. Going back to my last post, I believe we are all in a cascading pattern that does eventually separate some of us based on the choices we make. But conversely, those choices can set you free. You can choose your myriad cascading paths with a wideness that allows you to move nearer to those voices, so that together you can hold hands, brace against the plunge of time and stay together.

It will come down to your choice as to how to treat it. To my mind, the waterfall is better. It is a chaotic shape that allows you to make your own decisions amongst the flow. And never forget that you have that power; to stand in the dark and hold on to the hands of those dear to you.

Don't assume they will come to you. Be true to yourself and grab a hand. Because when someone who cares about you grabs your hand, what can you do but grab back? Fight to take that plunge together.

The problem is, and has always been... Choice.

Stood outside of a rainy night, there I was in typical contemplative mood, following a week of a lot of activity, a lot of thought provoking circumstances. In one hand a glass of wine, in the other a cigar - an indulgence that is very rare, but does occasionally happen when the need takes me. Maybe a few times a year. Normally on a momentous occasion, or at a point where I find myself at some kind of significant crossroad. This night, it found me somewhat at both.

And so, as it often does on a dark night, I found myself regarding the light that existed in the dark. In this case, the light illuminating a large and exceptionally beautiful tree. I've never gone up close to the tree, nor do I know its type. I have never experienced its kind shade in the glare of the sun, nor the feel of its bark on the skin of my hand. But still it managed to give me something that was utterly profound and fascinating.

As I stood regarding the tree on this gently rainy night, the water had not flown from the heavens for at least an hour. So whilst the air was pleasantly damp, the tree itself was largely free of water.

As I stood and watched, regarded its manifold branches and nuances, tried in my paltry human way to understand its geometry, interactions and levels, the rain came once again. And something both wonderful and ghastly occurred. Choice, and waterfalls.

I've had to deal a lot recently in work life with the concept of cascading information, which we often refer to as moving in a waterfall pattern. It starts at one point and moves down the waterfall pattern, separating and separating, each leg and each diversion that it takes creating a new flow and a new leg that, piece by piece, diverges it from the original context and the original path.

As I watched the tree in all its glory, it began to rain. And at first, the only sound was the initial droplets striking the leaves of my tree. But another sound, similar yet unmistakeably distinct, began to augment it over time. As the raindrops accumulated, they coalesced, something you could hear without ever seeing. And then they began to run from one leaf to the next, in a cascade. In hundreds, thousands of tiny waterfalls. Each one following down a path that was generated due to the place in which the raindrop, and all its manifold brethren, fell.

And so it is with choice. Every choice. Accumulating like raindrops on leaves, creating little cascades that focus into a flow of water that finally takes you down a path, and on to conclusion. Of sorts.

And so, as felt in the perception, goes life. A series of small decisions - a series of tiny raindrops - that eventually lead you into your own small cascade and into your conclusions in life. It is particularly fascinating to watch at a time where many around you are suddenly dropping into their own true cascades, where they choose a partner, choose to have children, choose to move, choose to take a job, choose to keep some friends and to lose others.

Once you begin the cascade - once you become a part of the true flowing waterfall - your eventual conclusion is often very much clear and decided. Whether this is good or bad, I leave up to your own mind to tell. But it's all a matter of perspective. Even when your decisions and your waterfall are outwardly similar, it is the nuances; the small decisions that you make in life, that make your own cascade so very distinct from all the others. And in that breath, in that moment of clarity that shows you how utterly unique your waterfall is, shows you how completely fundamental it is to you and to your reality.

It is that one simple, yet fundamental concept that allows me to know that all of us have the ability to define our own tiny waterfalls, our own unique cascades. And perhaps more interestingly, makes that deviation of person to person utterly inevitable. Perhaps it also makes us somewhat more isolated as we get further and further into our own divergence. And perhaps that is why our circles of close ones tends to focus inwards as we ride the currents. As we ride our waterfall down its own path.

And here we reach my rambling conclusion. The problem, if you regard it as such, will always be choice. You have it, you use it, and each one is a raindrop on a leaf. Each one guides us to the avenue of life we will inhabit, throughout the cascade of life, love and laundry. So choose them wisely.

Or perhaps it was just a tree. Your choice.

Ten Years. Almost to the day.

So, as stated previously, I'm running through my pictures, sorting out a lot of them. Posting some of the fun ones, the ones that will make people look at them and go "OH BLOODY HELL, I REMEMBER...!" Something to bring them out and show them the good times we've had.

But I've also come across a lot of instances of something I've never liked. Photos of me.

Now I've never, even in my slim and trim incarnation back at the beginning of uni, particularly liked being in photos. But it's made me think a lot about how our outer shell affects who we are. For once, I will not dance around the point.

I am the same being, travelling along, evolving and developing. I appear different at various times throughout my life, but inside is the same fire that has always, and will always drive me. Inside is still the same love for all of you that I have always had. The same spirit of random and the same desire for adventure. I will not let the shell change these things. In fact, I will use the shell to augment these things and to keep their spirit alive for as long as I can.

A photo of me in 2003.                                        A photo of me in 2013.

Judge as you will. It matters not to me, and nor should it matter to you how you physically change over the same time. You have the inner fire and drive to be anything you want to be, to experience anything you want to do. This is just a convenient shell. In my case with dreamy tiger eyes and questionable hair style...

AGE IS NOTHING.

 

Go on. Post something of yourself 10 years ago, and enjoy it.

Taking stock. Photos, that is.

Looking through photos can be a laborious process for me. It isn't that I don't enjoy doing it, you understand. Actually I love it very much, because it brings out old photos that I remember and love for the situation they remind me of and the feelings that go with them. Looking through them can evoke the strangest things, such as my friend from UMIST who had magic powers to levitate a football... (Hi Andy)

Or David doing a Dr Zoidberg impression in a coach, in the middle of leaving our Iaido seminar in the mountains of Ozu (Island of Shikoku, great nation of Japan)...

No. It's the fact that there are about 37000 photos on my PC now (and yes, they are backed up). So going through them is incredibly amusing, but takes a while.

But I've decided that I need to start going through them, organising them and more importantly pick out my favourites to put together into a portfolio. Now I'm not trying to do this to make myself into a photographer, or to make money out of it, but for my own edification and to prove that within those 37000 there are many really stunning shots. You know, at least 5. I may even be stupid enough to look at a website with an improbable name, so stay tuned.

But in the meantime here's some I like from my dig today.

Oh, and here's another daft one. Hi Gaz.

The complexity of the simplest things

Last weekend I had the pleasure of relaxing by a pond for a while. It's a very simple thing for the most part, and I like nothing more than being able to relax by the water and watch the goldfish and koi drifting through the water, watching the reflections off the water ripples. The whole experience is one of relaxation, the most strenuous activity being watching the pond skaters do their simple dance.

But being, well lets face it, a geek means that when faced with even these simple, serene moments I tend to see layers underneath the obvious - complexities that lie under the simple state of things.

So, lets have a look at it. On the face of it all, its just a pond. Water, fish, plants and sunlight.

But there is so much more over, around and underneath the obvious. Let's take a few examples. Here, is a pond, a very lovely pond, with very lovely fish.

Ah, but don't just concentrate on the fish, lovely as they are. Look at what else is there as well. Look , oddly, at the debris for instance, floating away on the top. Look at how much there really is. There are organisms living their whole life there and dying in front of you. There are chemicals reacting, gases bubbling, convection circulating the water, fascinating physics at work.

 

But it's not just overtly interesting situations such as this. You can see the complexity in anything if you look at it with the right mindset. Lets take a wall. A simple brick wall.

 

 

For the moment, it seems like nothing more than just... a wall. But you're not thinking about what this actually is, what is has been and what it will be. Think for a moment about who built it. Not just who built the wall itself, but who made the bricks, what they went through, where the materials came from. Think then about what the wall is now, the physics of it as it sits there holding weight, holding wind or just existing.

 

But one of the other things I love to look at is what the wall meant in peoples lives. How many young couples enjoyed an embrace against it, how many desperate pedestrians used it to shelter from the rain, how many children played football against it?

 

A wall is never just a wall.

 

Let's take something else. Lets take a fountain. Now this fountain is part of an array of fountains that just a spray of water that comes out during the day, and kids enjoy running through them to see if they can do it without getting wet. You know the ones.

 

But stop.

 

And look. Look properly.

 

Take a close look and a true mental snapshot, and you see that it's never really as simple as your eyes might first show you. This is one of those fountains in the process of reducing its flow (click on the pic to enlarge).

 

 

Startling, isn't it? Look at the complexity of that shape. Now you have surface tension, viscosity, inertia, density changes all at work in different ways. Here you have not just a prism, but a prism of such a profoundly complex and imaginative shape that you could spend every waking hour looking at the patterns it produces and still never truly understand what is in that water.

 

And you can't even see the half of it. That water is full of chemicals, microbes, bacteria, grit, dirt. It looks like crystal, but it is a working, evolving environment of its own accord. And think of the number of people who have encountered this fountain, the number of children who danced through it in the sun, the number of days it made complete and hell... even the number of drunks it gave a soaking.

 

Think of all the lives it has touched, all the things it could have seen and encountered. It's working, its design...

 

It goes on. But its sheer complexity is there for you, if you'd like to see. And it doesn't matter what aspect you see, or how it affects you, so long as you see it.

 

So. I'm going to give you a little challenge. Next time you're sat somewhere and you're bored, pick something around you. Spend some time. It can be anything; any damn thing you like.

 

Don't just look at it.

 

SEE it.

Another weapon in the war between four wheels and two.

Here I have another weapon in the on-going war between those on two wheels and those on four. This is a purpose made weapon designed to persecute car drivers. Or at least that it what some of the media and some drivers will have you believe.

It isn't really that way, not in the slightest. There have been a lot of reports in the media of late about the clash between cyclists and car drivers, predominantly in places like London, where they frequently have to share the road, and frequently end up disagreeing for various reason. It came to a head particularly when a particularly ill-advised young woman tweeting happily about having knocked a cyclist down, and the subsequent media to-and-fro about both that case in particular ("It was the cyclist's fault, honest...") and circumstances in general.

Now that was, on its own, rather surprising that it went so far (including a BBC interview with lawyer present, claiming more than anything that she'd 'Take the stupid tweet back if she could' - no actual apology for being on the wrong side of the road...) in such a public manner. But now it has gone to a wider conversation about the 'Battle' or 'War' between drivers and cyclists, the use of headcams in general and the right of those on two wheels to be on the road.

As a motorbiker, I sit very much in the middle of that fight. I'm both a motorised vehicle who can run with the cars, and someone on two wheels who can often do things that only cyclists can do. And in my past I have been both a car driver and a cyclist for extended periods.

Categorically; cyclists, car drivers and bikers can be just as bad as each other. I've seen each demographic do stupid, reckless and illegal things many, many times. What I will say is that I've seen car drivers do it far more than anyone else, but this is largely a product of sheer numbers. There are far more cars than bikes or bikers.

I have run with an action camera for the last year or so now, largely because I found I was seeing far too many near-incidents each time I got on the road. And whilst I will hold my hands up to having been stupid a couple of times - the vast majority have been through no fault of my own and have been down to things like dodgy overtaking on motorways or running red lights. But in that time I've also captured cyclists being stupid and motorbikes doing downright suicidal things.

I'm not interested in targeting any particular demographic, and that is thing that needs to be understood. From the perspective of those on two wheels (motorised or not), we are far more vulnerable than any car driver, and are subject, statistically, to far more risk of poor driving due to the larger number of cars out there. We who carry these cameras are not interested in brining a particular demographic down, we are interested in a small extra measure of protection afforded to us by the fact that anything that does occur, does so on film. And you'd be surprised how often that makes people straighten up when they see a camera.

The fact is, we're all equally entitled to the road. Arguments about things like whether cyclists pay road tax are irrelevant. No-one pays road tax. You pay vehicle duty on anything motorised, but that has nothing to do with how the roads are funded.

Cyclists are allowed to be on the road. You should respect them and be careful of them, because they are the most vulnerable of us. They're still people, they aren't simply obstacles.

Car drivers are allowed to be on the road. You should respect them and ride/drive in a manner that causes little interference in what they do. They're still people, not simply hazards.

Bikers are allowed to be on the road. They sit somewhere in between the two, demanding some caution and respect, whilst the onus is still on them to ride with the pack sensibly.

We are all just people, trying to get on with life of the roads, and there really should be enough room for us all. Cameras aren't out there to persecute, they're out there to keep us all on the straight and narrow. I'd applaud and encourage anyone to have one when they are on the run, be it cyclist, biker, or car. I encourage scrutiny, because hopefully it will lead to us all being that bit better on the road.

Rights for all, or rights for none.

So, here we go. Another senseless moment of violence gripping us all. A man killed in broad daylight on a Woolwich street, seemingly targeted purely for being a squaddie out and about. Two men, whatever the whys and wherefores, appear to have simply hacked him to death, then stood around filming speeches about their reasoning whilst waiting for the police to turn up.

It is horrific. It is unquestionably wrong in every way possible.

Now, with that said and plainly stated, I am going to put aside the reasons of who and why for a little while.

The inevitable reaction at this point is one of grief and anger. You will be sad that someone could be struck down like this, and you will be angry that someone dared to think themselves judge, jury and executioner on an apparently innocent and random person. And there is nothing wrong with any of these feelings.

But where we end up with a problem is where this leads to people pronouncing that we should 'Bring back hanging' and even worse a number that stated that we should allow the people involved to be tortured in public as recompense.

Still more are now speaking of Muslims in general and how evil they are, and how we shouldn't allow immigration anymore because it lets in the wrong sort, or that we've lost our identity.

I'll tell you what our identity is. Its a nation of cosmopolitan people, that once included all of the commonwealth - people of different backgrounds, races, colours and creeds - who created a great country where no-one is allowed to be persecuted, and everyone is entitled to human rights.

Everyone.

This doesn't change because of a crime like this, regardless of how public. Think about it for a moment. How many times has something like this happened in our country, but in less public circumstances, and without the 'Terrorism' brand across it? How many times has one person murdered another in cold blood, and never had the situation treated in this manner.

The truth is that we need to be maintaining the human rights of everyone, including the people that commit the crimes, because if you start making exceptions to who does and who does not get treated with basic human rights, then you will make more and more until damn near no-one has them.

It is a lesson that is taught to us throughout history, time and again, that when you change the rules of basic rights to live for any demographic, you introduce change that results in the removal of rights for far more people, and the detriment of society for everyone.

And who is entitled to judge who is worthy of those rights? Who would make those choices as to who can live or die, who can have the right to not be tortured and who will be lynched on the street like the atrocities of old?

Not you.

Not me.

Because we have always got it wrong. It always escalates. It always ends up being a chapter in history that we end up telling our children and giving it impressive names such as Holocaust. Holomodor. Great Purges. Ethnic Cleansing. When we decide a group no longer deserves to be treated with basic human rights.

It is only by applying true societal rules that we can achieve sanity. By all means, these people will be judged, but they are still people. They still must be allowed to stand and made to answer for what they have done, but not placed on a scaffold as entertainment. Not placed on a gibbet for all to see.

These people do not represent Islam. If you read Islam properly, it is just as peaceful or otherwise as Christianity or most of the other religions. I have known countless Muslims, and all of them just as good as you or I. Just as sane as you or I. So don't let the actions of these individuals reflect on an entire demographic.

Whether they be criminals or not, whether they are a particular religion or not, how they did this, why they did this. None of it matters as far as human rights go. You cannot simply dehumanise them offhand for this. Know that they are evil, yes. But still a human.

For if nothing else, the very fact that we, as stiff-upper lipped British folk of different races, colours creeds, religions and persuasions, can stand united and show that our system of rights for all and justice for all will not fail in the face of their actions...

Then we have already won. Their acts will be, in the long view, tragic but inconsequential. We will not bow.

We are one race of humanity, composed of many peoples, all of whom must have rights or you cannot guarantee that any of us will.

Recipe time

So, here we go. Recipe time. I had other things planned for this post, but decided that this week I wanted to try and make some Italian style simple meals, and one in particular - made entirely from scratch and without any existing recipe - worked damn well.

So here we go.

Pasta with Tomato, Pancetta and Parmesan Ragu.

So, you'll need (Serves 2 portions):

• Pasta - I used fusilli, but it doesn't matter what type really
• Pancetta - I'd recommend using rashers rather than cubes
• Parmesan - Grab a decent triangle of it, rather than the pre-grated
• Passata - About 500ml
• 1 Clove of Garlic
• Black Pepper and Salt to taste

So first things first. Grab a couple of saucepans ready, one with water in for the pasta and one for the sauce.

Take the Pancetta rashers and slice them into pieces about 2cm square. Use as much or as little Pancetta as you like, but I prefer to use a decent amount, especially as it really makes the flavour come alive.

Put the Pancetta into the pan for the sauce and fry it for a few minutes until its started to brown and ever so slightly crisp. Don't overdo it.

Next add in the passata, and turn on the heat for the pasta.


Allow the passata to start to simmer and add in the garlic clove, crushed. Then season the sauce with liberal amounts of black pepper and a touch of salt.

At some point during this process your water will be ready for the pasta. Put it in and let it go. The amount of sauce you'll have is really for two people as a main meal, so either cook enough pasta for two, or cook for one and only serve up half the sauce in this sitting. Tis up to you.

So, once the passata is simmering nicely, it's time to make the biggest impact on the sauce. Grate some parmesan and add it in to the sauce. Again, the amount is up to you, but I like a fair bit in there. The best thing is to add some, stir it up, taste the sauce, and add more if needed. But believe me, when you do add it you'll find the sauce goes from basic tomato to something deliciously decadent in no time. The parmesan with its salty, earthy cheese flavour really makes a difference.

Keep simmering the sauce on low to thicken it up a little whilst the pasta cooks. As soon as the pasta is to your liking, drain it (although I advise not too thoroughly; a little bit of residual water keeps it fresh and binds well with the sauce) and place in a pasta dish (or dishes). Turn off the heat for the sauce and spoon it onto the centre of the pasta.

Remember, this is a rich dish and you don't need vast amounts of sauce to the pasta. A smaller amount will feel like it goes a long way.

Lastly, you can either add a little more parmesan on the top or serve as-is.

I'd recommend serving with a Sangiovese red wine and good company. Enjoy.

 

In times of great problems, small acts may be the only way to live.

Been a while, hasn't it? I confess that I've taken a deliberate break from facebook, blogging and the internet in general recently. I even had a post or two prepared on the subject of my disillusionment, but they fell by the wayside. Anyway, I was able to get out of the country for a while, which was something of a chance to refresh and recharge. But I digress.

I've often wondered, in reflective and pensive moods, whether or not we are simply here in this generation to witness the end of all things. With the environment being generally destroyed, mankind still too stupid to realise the futility of war, and a population that seems exponential, I've often wondered whether we will ever draw a line, and whether that will be in time.

Its also worrying to see so many things that I have always loved disappearing. Birds, insects, animals, countryside, coastline, cultures, people... so on. In the Algarve when I first went there somewhere around 17 years ago as a boy the place was quite undeveloped, full of wildlife and boasting a sky full of stars at night. Now hotels abound, development hides the land and the star visibility is not much different from the UK.

In many ways, my own perspective on all this counters with the knowledge that we are onlya very small part of this universe, and that the earth itself would keep on spinning without notice if all life and current thought were stripped from it. Were we, and all the life here, gone the universe would not notice in the slightest. But that doesn't stop me lamenting the loss of the unique beauty of this place.

Inevitably, whilst I have made lifestyle changes and conscious decisions to try and back my moral compunctions, one man can't really change the world. The only thing he can really do is small acts here and there that hope to flap a butterfly wing and turn the tide.

One of the small things that came my way was to wander across a rapidly drowning dragonfly in my travels in Portugal. Rescuing it took but a moment. More was spent trying to ensure it could dry out and hopefully survive, allowing it to cling on to my hand in order to shelter it from the wind.

Sadly, all effort was in vain, since the dragonfly had been waterlogged too long. Despite retrieving it and doing my damndest, it didn't survive. But even though it failed, the act was at least there. Small actions are about all we can do in this world. Their value can be as much in their intent as the result, and even whenthe result fails it is the will that you set towards the world that counts. It is what will be passed from you, to others and to the world around you.

So don't underestimate what you can acheive with small actions, especially those meant tosave the world you love and to leave more behind for those that follow. Small actions are the flap of a wing - even a dragonfly wing - that once in a great while contribute to the storm.

30 is not what you think, but it may be who you are...

So. Turned 30 then? Yeah, so did I. So did many of the good folks I know and love. Its that tender year of all your old friends truly becoming Old Friends, all fascinatingly in the order you did at school, rather than observing the calendar year cycle.

So. Feeling old then? I'm not. And nor should you.

Let me put it to you this way. 30 is likely to be somewhere around a third to a half of your mathematical lifespan. So in that sense it can seem a little scary. But you're missing a number of points there.

Yes, you've existed for 30 years. But how long have you been truly alive? Think about your life and childhood; the first ten years are certainly something of a blur, even when you're living them. You're just a ball of energy, reactions and saturday morning cartoons, really. In fact, I'll go further and bet that you really only start to remember with proper clarity a few years later than that, say 12 or 13, when you really felt the growing process begin to take a hold and memories take root.

Oh, yes, like you I have some memory of my extreme youth. I have memory of when I was three, I remember Lisa Anderson's third birthday (our neighbours at the time). I remember many things from being a child; travelling france with the family, being good at school, realising I was mad as a brush, even the time I was suspended from school (one day). I remember lots of it, but that also misses some of the point.

In retrospect, much of it feels like it wasn't Me. It was proto-me. Me before I became Me. Yes, literally speaking I did those things, but in my adult life I am quite a different person. And that, dear people, brings me to my point.

When did you feel like the person you are now? For me, I only really started to become truly me in sixth form. And it was then largely cemented by university. So from my perspective, whilst I have existed as a separate entity for 30 years, the person metaphorically in front of you has probably only been here a decade.

And look at what the decade has wrought. I have travelled three continents. I have worked on, integrated and designed aircraft capable of astounding feats. I have learnt language, I have learnt instruments, I have learnt tools, I have stood on my own feet.

I have fallen in love. I have fallen into brilliant luck. I have fallen over in a riverbed in Thailand and been stuck to the waist.

I have stood my ground. I have stood on the highest mountain of this land. I have stood with my family through birth and infirmity.

I have seen events both massive and tiny and found beauty within them all.

I have done a lot in this decade. And I'm willing to bet all of you have too. You've travelled, moved, married, divorced, worked, played (often with fire), you've loved, you've lost, you've held, you've run.

And i'll bet you've done so much of it, like me, in the last decade when you were finally You.

So what is 30 years? Its maybe 10 years since you've really been here, and it a celebration of a decade of kicking ass and taking names. It isn't a moment to feel sad.

Because if you can do everything you have done, all of you, every single one, in a decade - think what you can do with 3, 4, 5 or 6 more decades. When you are very firmly You. With your friends, loved ones and children all with You.

This is not the moment to lament the passing of time. This is the moment to stand in awe of the power you have before you, a marching army of Beings ready to bring the world to proper account.

And so I have no pity for you, I salute you, one and all.

Fire and Ice

Now, for once, there aren't going to be many words to this post. Instead, I'm largely going to let the photos do the talking. And whilst I'm normally very much a skyscapes person, this kind of photography takes me every now and then.

First I'll set the scene. Whisky. Water ice. A sneakily brilliant test set up. And a camera. I did something similar a few years ago with Southern Comfort, but this is far better. Click on the images to see a larger version. I give you:

Fire and Ice.