Climbing Through History

Doing a spot of ice climbing with twin ice tools and crampons. No rope.
Not your usual ice fall though. Seemed to be a frozen vertical rubbish dump.
Old pots and pans, bottles, biscuit wrappings and orange peel stuck out of the ice and frozen ash.
Good placements however with the picks and foot fangs, satisfying.
The crux of the ascent arrived with a slightly overhanging pile of frozen magazines.
Appropriately the magazines were old issues of Climber and Mountain.
Somehow it all fitted together.

A New Council House

My mum, dad and myself had come into possession of a new council house.
Mum and I were waiting the arrival of father who was due to arrive in his Morris Traveller with a bottle of wine to celebrate.
We looked out of the metal framed window and saw him park down the road and walk towards us.
He was looking at the house numbers as this would be his first visit.
His face fell as he saw us at looking out of the top window.
We realised at the same time that ours was the only house in the street without a roof.
More damp patches in the ceiling for sure.

Army Issues

I had joined the army and was given a brand new khaki uniform. A bit stiff in the arms and legs but looked pretty smart.
I joined a queue for the handing out of equipment.
I was asked by the commanding officer if I wanted some 'jelly'.
I answered that I did want some, although I was a bit surprised to be handed explosives so early in my army career.
Alas, as you may have guessed, the jelly was on a plate and went wibble wobble and was raspberry flavoured.
I would have to wait a while longer, if ever, to be issued with gelignite.

That Unfinished Job

I was sitting having my tea with my mum and dad at our old council house. Mum pointed out a damp patch on the ceiling. With son C, I went outside to look at the possible cause.
I was astounded to see that there was a hole around 10 feet square in the roof. No tiles or sarking, nothing.
It was where I did roof repairs around twenty years ago. I could not believe that I had forgotten to finish the repair, but there it was, a gaping hole from the past.
C and I then climbed onto the roof to begin repairing the repair.
The roof was now flat instead of pitched and was covered by sheets of loose hardboard and corrugated iron.
Under this flimsy covering roared swirling water of unknown depth.
I was terrified that either C or I would slip through into the torrent.
My roof repair kit consisting of some felt and sticky black stuff seemed woefully inadequate.
No wonder there was a damp patch on the ceiling.

The Rat

I heard a movement in my bedroom. I roused myself from sleep and heard it again. Sort of a scuffling noise. I sat up and put the light on. A movement behind a chest of drawers.
I got up and saw a huge black rat run across the floor and out of the open door into the hallway.
I chased it, together with Max the ancient dog, although I think he was uncertain what the commotion was about.
The rat (genus rattus rattus) darted from cover to cover like some sort of guerilla fighter.
Eventually I cornered it behind the TV set and was set to dispatch it with a poker. Then it disappeared, completely, flicked out of existence.
Then I woke up for the second time, no scufflings, just darkness.

The Gatekeeper

Scariest dream for a while. I was (it seemed) at the very furthest depths of my subconscious, a rarely visited place.
At that place was a strange garden. It had purple, dark green and red vegetation, flowers were mostly a bluish white. There was small hills scattered around with overgrown paths.
I stood at the garden fence. My overnight bag was several feet into the garden and I wanted it back. Main reason was that I wanted the charger for my mobile.
There were a few insects buzzing around but nothing larger. So, I climbed over the fence and tried to lift my bag. But, it had grown into the plants or maybe the other way round.
I tugged and tugged, then became aware of something behind. I looked round and saw a huge black dog staring at me. It seemed to have a massive, raw and natural intelligence and had instantly sized me up. I had to get away and looked at the fence which seemed a million miles away instead of the few actual feet.
I tried to jump but far too late.
I awakened to see a dark figure standing over me.
A blink and it was gone.
Back in my bed, the Underworld faded to a bad memory.

Navigation Asleep.

I find myself in the navigator's chair of a second world war aircraft. I am seated at a desk behind the two pilots. I have a map, compass, watch, ruler, protractor and a pencil.
I can't see where we are going.
What am I meant to do? We have taken off and I am probably supposed to know where we are heading. Not even sure that I know what country we took off from. The pilot will soon turn round and ask for a bearing. To Germany, France or even Britain?
I look at my watch and am relieved that I can still tell the time.
My map is of no help, no GPS arrow to say where we are. That is my job.
With relief I wake up.
Finally, I know where I am.

Trees

Walking along a straight, seemingly endless road. I note how slowly trees on the horizon approach. Or is it me slowly approaching the trees?
I stand still and the trees still approach but much, much slower.
All comes to him who waits.
Not true of course.

The House Next Door.

I went into a birthday party for a one year old new child I seemed to have. The party was in a hotel that we were staying at, and the mother and other children all had pixelated faces. Just as well.
A large group arrives including son C and his friend L. They were fresh from a long walk to see an extinct volcano. I was a bit jealous of their expedition.
It all makes me want to get some fresh air, so I wander outside and walk up a narrow lane past some houses. Out of the first house comes a man just beaming over with excitement. I watch as he enters the neighbours house with the exclamation that he is entering the best house in the world. I am intrigued and watch as several other men enter the same house with the same sentiments.
What is in that house? A brothel, a men's group, another universe, their childhood or whatever men really want?

Iced Memories.

Out for another cycle run. This time I was showing a few friends the attractions of my local housing scheme.
I led the field towards the estate, we could see it glowing white in the distance, like a distant jewel.
The team were suitably impressed as we approached. Gleaming white houses and streets. Everything pristine and new, sparkling. Elegant and smartly dressed people walked purposefully about, teeth gleaming.
I cycled towards the pièce de résistance, the white heart of the scheme.
A brilliantly white council house made of icing sugar, mmm, mouth watering . .
We all stared at the unattainable.
But then I suppose these schemes were the great white hope of the 1950's, and that's what they were like then, (in my memory anyway).

Grand Day Out

I spotted an army tank on a hillside. Climbing up towards it I was headed off by two soldiers carrying machine guns.
As it was a fine day, I thought I would climb the hill anyway. The exercise and the fresh air would be good for me. The soldiers followed and at one point opened up with their weapons, soil and heather erupting all around me. I objected to their behaviour and they explained they were just aerating the dry ground.
Not really believing them I continued my climb, keeping an eye on these cowboys.
I came across a deep gully which promised a quick if exciting and steep way down.
I scrambled down but was dismayed to see that the soldiers were also descending with disconcerting expertise.
They were not happy until I reached the bottom and they wandered off towards their beloved tank. Also I had some exercise and fresh air
Job done.

Elderond

Last night's dream felt really weird. I went along to a 5 a side football match at the local community centre, with my son C.

In the middle of the pitch was a large cage containing a parrot. It was free to a good home. Several people had tried to keep it but without success.

I spoke to the officials who, slightly reluctantly, agreed to give us the parrot.

We went over to the cage and found that the parrot was huge, around 6' tall.

It was dressed in a smart green coat with trousers, scarf, the lot. He introduced himself to us as Elderond. He seemed capable of easily biting us in half.

Elderond seemed more in command of the English language than either of us and questioned us as to our circumstances etc.

We asked if he was willing to walk along to our house and he agreed. His cage would follow on by lorry.

He chatted endlessly as we walked on various subjects, some questions he asked I was at a loss to answer.

His cage had appeared at our old council house and he entered it elegantly. I promised to visit him later.

However I forgot to visit him until much later and took him a piece of cheese. Elderond was visibly upset and wondered why I had not visited. This was not going to work he explained unless I kept my word and that he was treated with more respect.

I agreed that I would in future.

I wondered with a bit of trepidation if he was toilet trained . .

Digging deep

I started to dig in my garden, almost at random. I unearthed a small red weight, like those used on old fashioned balance scales.
Then another and after a bit, one more, each deeper than the previous.
I kept on digging, getting excited by now and gradually unearthing a complete set, together with a red metal box to keep them all safe.
A memory returns of losing them when I was a boy.
Balance is restored.

All at Sea

I was at a Perthshire cottage for an annual visit with my mens group. I looked out of the window and expected to see the usual magnificent view. Instead was leagues of water.
The alpha male of the group, wondered what my problem was with the water. I answered that it was not what I expected. A wooded glen turned into an ocean.
I opened the front door which led out onto a deck and saw that the cottage was in fact a paddle steamer.
I looked down into the clear water and saw that it was really deep with a particular deep bit just under the paddles of the cottage/steamship. The temptation was to dive in for a swim but the deep, menacing part under the paddles was really scary.
I called off my submersion plan and returned back into the cottage.
Defeat.
What was that all about I wonder?

Pub Talk

I went into a pub with an old friend Ian M. The landlord could not believe his eyes when he saw Ian but was incredibly pleased to see him. Probably because Ian had died some years previously.
Anyway drinks were ordered and what's more, were on the house.
I ordered a coke as I was driving.
Stunned silence.
On an occasion such as this! Outrageous.
I was made to order a proper drink to celebrate a Return From The Other Side.

Diving Down to Town

I went diving with son C and two others including Drew our old instructor. I was given the job of Safety Officer, which involved writing stuff onto a pad with an indelible pencil. Big responsibility.
We dived down about 30 metres to a submerged town. Crystal clear water and the town just like it had been when it had been submerged.
I noted things like air pressures and times onto my pad. Probably should have remained on the surface like a proper Safety Officer.
I turned to look around at the town and then back to my fellow divers. They had all disappeared somewhere.
Then, walking along the street, came a man with a small girl. Seemed spooky as they were without diving gear. Like drowned people walking.
I tried to speak to them but they passed me by.
I was getting worried about C and the others. Air would be running out.
Then another small girl appeared wearing a blue dress and stopped to speak.
I asked her if she knew where the divers were and she replied that they were in trouble and would show me where.
I followed her to a nearby Spar shop and saw them inside. They had swum through a lobster pot type of entrance and could not get out. They were clutching bottles of beer and whisky.
I kicked the front door down allowing them to escape.
Drew asked me to note down all what had happened. Good practice he said.
I turned to thank the little girl but she was gone.

Fright Club

I parked my Volvo on a piece of waste ground in a dodgy neighbourhood. I noticed someone had already tried to force open a door. I tried to kick the metal back into shape. As I did so a group of thugs approached brandishing weapons. Scary.
Too many I thought, but I would go down fighting.
I prepared to swing a tyre lever that had luckily just appeared in my hand.
But, I wondered, maybe they are vigilantes protecting the area against apparent car vandals.
No matter, the fight was on and I was knocked into wakefullness.
Phew.

My New Scooter

I had a little scooter, 50cc engine and light enough to be carried in one hand.
I was heading towards Perth to do some shopping. The day was fine and it felt great to be scooting along the open road, no helmet, just sun and wind. Tescos here I come.
Deciding to go the harbour route, I did a right turn, although a turning lorry nearly knocked me from my machine.
A number of lorries and cars overtook me, my speed being pretty insignificant.
The road began to narrow and sweep round to the left. There were no turnoffs.
The road narrowed further, enough to be alarming. I slowed, and the road ended in a set of stone steps.
Where had the other traffic gone? Up the steps? Things were not right.
I picked up the scooter and climbed the stairs. A lengthy flight.
At the top was the harbour and a row of old cottages. Several steam puffers were tied up at the quay.
The people stared at my scooter, a chromium anachronism.
Out of time and place again.

That Half Mark.

I had been given loads of closely typed sheets of paper. They were the questions and answers for an upcoming exam.
I could not be bothered to read through them all, despite the fact that doing so would greatly increase my chances of passing. I remember this sort of thing at school, just not making the effort. Taking my chances as it were.
This sort of thing resulted me in failing my 11+ exam by half a mark. Thus I was channelled into the realms of manual labour or, at a push, blue collar work.
Another half a mark and I would have been ushered into the fabulous world of the white collar lads. Or so I imagined.
Life is full of these nodes.

The Unusual Job

Son C. and I were walking through the streets of a wet, deserted city. We came across a man called Bill. I knew him to be a real outdoor sort, tweeds, fit and usually carrying some sort of weapon.
Bill asked us to follow him, which we did, gradually leaving the wet streets behind.
He took us up onto a hill, which grew gradually steeper.
Near the summit was a grassy hollow, at the bottom of which lay the decomposing body of a middle aged man. Looked like a lost hillwalker. Bill's job, he told us, was to keep tabs on all the undiscovered dead bodies in Scotland. I struggled a bit with the logic of his statement, but that was soon put out of my head when he chopped off the foot of the corpse, using a large axe. Out of the body streamed columns of maggots. This was to show C. the reality of the situation. Even Bill looked a bit pale, never mind C. and myself. It all seemed a bit much.

A new torch and a shave.

I wanted a new torch. So I climbed to the top of a 100' tall tower by a steep iron staircase. At the top was a huge room where a retirement party was in full swing. I asked the retiring guy if he had a torch. He gave me his old one which was a fantastic affair, which seemed would light up the universe.
I thanked him and climbed back down by a vertical pole, scary. At the bottom I found I had to reverse the entire process to open the door to get out.
Exhausted I left clutching my new source of illumination.

Next I went into a chemist for a shave. I opened a trap door in the middle of the floor to access a tap. A black underground river surged around 60' below. I filled a plastic tub with water and managed to clutch Max as he slid towards the opening. The chemist told me to empty used shaving water on the chemist shop roof where it would run down the drainage pipes onto the ground and so into the underground river.
His place, his rules, I suppose.

Ballet Chips

I went into a shopping mall, where I intended to visit a betting shop. I knew how to place a bet and how to win. (Not actually true.)
On arriving at the place where the betting shop should have been I discovered it was now a fish and chip shop. Serving was my friend S. She in fact only served herself fish and chips then came out from behind the counter to speak to me.
We sat outside on a bench. I offered to massage S's feet and noted she was wearing silver ballet shoes.
These shoes had so many laces and straps that we decided it wasn't worth the effort. S then handed me a chip.
Result.

Isolation

Last night I felt that I was totally alone. My choice. But then I realised that I wasn't anywhere remotely familiar. Another planet in a way. I also knew that I had no money. My bank accounts no longer existed.

However I found some chocolate buttons on the floor and quickly scooped them up. Security!I suppose the point is that I have never really been on my own, certainly not for any length of time.

When I awoke there was actually some chocolate buttons on the floor, alas they belonged to the dog.

The painting is one I did earlier, for much the same sort of dream, although that time I was on an alien planet for sure. No chocolate for light years.

Battle in Fife

We had been fighting the Taliban in Fife and were all exhausted.
The evening came around and we retired to some large sheds.
The Taliban leader put his men into one of the sheds, one with a large steel door.
Myself and my men stood outside our shed which was next door to theirs.
It was like putting toys back in their box at the end of the day.
I chatted to their leader who was a small, sturdily built guy with a moustache. He seemed amiable enough and banged on the steel door to keep noise from his men down, so he could hear me better. His men seemed to be making something which involved hammering sheets of armour plate.
He started to tell us of good walks in the St Andrews area. Then, without turning around, he said with the hint of exasperation associated with an irate schoolmaster,
"Brian, put that down!"
The shout was directed to one of my men who was behind him, and had idly picked up the Taliban leaders Kalashnikof rifle.
The leader then told us how the Island of Leuchars could be easily fortified, and was in fact, considering that option.
I thanked him for the information and said it was time we retired into our shed.
It had been a long and unlikely day.

Next Generation Flooring

I lived on the 2nd floor of a block of flats. On the ground floor lived Mr and Mrs C, the first floor being occupied by two gay men. I lived on the second floor with several floors above me, where various individuals lived. On the top floor lived a single woman.
The singular thing about the building was that it was hollow with no floors as such. People lived on balconies around the inner walls.
However floors did exist if you believed they did, but remaining invisible.
The trick was not to lose faith when half way across.
My dog, Max, ambled easily across if he so wished.
I was a lot less confident.
Sitting on a chair on my balcony I gazed down at the two gay men, on a settee, below me. No sign of Mr and Mrs C.
A movement above arrested my attention. Top flat woman had parked her 4 x 4 on her invisible flooring. She then racked up her belief system and, attaching herself to the vehicle's winch, lowered herself through all the floors towards me. I gulped a sort of 'good morning and well done' into some sort of incoherent sentence, and watched as she pressed a button on her remote control, which sent her spiralling up the way she had come.
Out of my reach . . .
The power of thought, it's all in the mind.

Three Soles

I had three breaded soles in my fridge, uncooked. I wanted to give them to Max the dog.
But, I took them to a church service where each person ate a meal whilst listening to the sermon. The three soles remained uncooked and uneaten on my table. The bearded preacher eyed them up.
I then sat outside the church, on the pavement, smoking a Hoyo de Monterrey. The three soles sat in the middle of the road. A man walked over them.
I walked to a nearby sea loch, aware that the soles were not far away. I saw an ugly grey oil tanker approach under the radio control of the uniformed leader of the Burma National Army, who stood on a concrete pedestal out to sea. He headed the tanker ashore at top speed where it churned out of the water and over a low headland, cutting a swathe through some trees and into another sea loch. He then berthed the tanker at some toilets on a pier.
I then thought it was time to go home and headed up to where my Dad had parked the car, which nimbly changed from a Morris 8 into a Volvo 760 as I adjusted to the time period. Still wrong.
My Mum then phoned my mobile saying that I should be elsewhere.
The three soles watched all this with interest.

The Pursuit

I am being chased through the streets of Perth by a man and woman, both known to me and both armed with revolvers. Not sure why they are after me, but must have done something to seriously bug them. People scatter in all directions.
I keep ahead of them, run through the shopping mall and into a shop. I hide under some duvets and they try to find me. Suddenly I am discovered. They aim to shoot. At that moment some friends arrive. The interuption allows me to kick the gun out of the man's hand. Real TV stuff.
I capture the man and the others capture the woman.
I take him to a nearby house where the owner offers us a cup of tea. We gratefully accept.
The captured man spits his out. "It's Earl Grey!" he roars.
I then take him, still with his arm up his back, to my house where I keep a choice of teas for just such an emergency.
Surely the pursuit wasn't just about my preference for Earl Grey? It sets me thinking . .
The journey to the police will have to wait.

Kitchen Clay

I come through to my kitchen in the middle of the night and think that Max the dog has done a turd on the floor.
I head towards it but realise that it can't be what I had assumed as it is several feet high. Scale wrong again.
It is in fact a large lump of potter's clay.
Next it is on my kitchen worktop. Luckily it is of very solid construction.
The clay glares in my direction waiting for me to mold it into something.
Obviously it can't stay where it is and I wonder what to do . .
No change there then.

Holiday Time

Having a few days holiday with youngest son C.
We walk past new crags that have replaced Perth cemetery. Look pretty steep and inaccessable.
We head towards Perth's new beach. We meet a well known blog man and his wife. I tell them we are going to the new ferry terminal. Lot of changes it seems.
C and I walk across the busy beach towards the ferry.
At its far end we climb a very steep, rocky slope, a tad dangerous. I arrive at the top and reach down to give C a hand just as a massive steel door closes behind him.
We surprisingly find ourselves aboard a CalMac ferry bound for the Isle of Lewis.
The Purser greets us and we pay him £1.40 for the crossing which includes dinner.
Seems excellent value.

Weapons of the Mind

Last night I was walking around a town.
I was aware that people could throw invisible balls of 'mind energy' at me, or each other.
I also had the capability of throwing such stuff.
The problem was: If I believed in the whole idea, these balls of energy could really hurt or kill me. However if I did not believe in the idea they were harmless, but I also could not defend myself against them by counter attack using the same weapons.
I therefore walked around meeting people unsure whether to believe in the weapon or not.
It turned into a bit of a nightmare as I thought some of the people were in the house with me when I awoke in darkness. However, luckily, I was still asleep.
Of course all this has some basis in how people interact. If you believe someone is directing negative 'stuff' towards you, you will be effected and vice versa.
An offensive weapon of the mind.