Bryan Islip's Blog, page 28
December 5, 2012
A not so happy birthday
Monday 3rd December: Dee''s birthday and by co-incidence the first day of her second four day chemotherapy session in Raigmoire's Hospital's C2 Ward.
Cutting the story very short, we drove for two snow-bound hours across the hills, arriving at the appointed 09.20 only to find a big queue and no available bed . At that point Dee went into a kind of shock, induced by what later turned out to be an infection - having little if any immune system left to fend it off. So, into a temporary bed and expert care at the hospital's A&E section. From there to another temporary berth in 'Arrivals' before being moved on to her proper (cancer) ward, It's put her chemo back by at least five days
Anyway I had made her a special card, on its front the above quite recently completed painting, on its rear the verse that follows ... I hope in some small way it helped her bear the set back on this not so happy birthday ... it helped me, in composing it.
For
Delia
May be it is the way these days we need to live
this waving at the door, this
little left to say, or play, this little more to give
But true it is that every time we say goodbye
my Dee I surely slowly die a
little, and
‘though there are no tears, inside, I cry a little
But all the passing of the years mean nought
to me if not with deeply rooted love
for you, my lovely; who is all I ever sought
We’ve journeyed far together, side by side
o’er rugged hill, by calm or raging seas, or
through those sun-touched trees, all stress denied.
And now life’s urgent pace has all been slowed
by nature’s kindly hand; so lucky we, to have
each other; no more wanted, nothing owed
Bryan Islip
December 3, 2012
December 4, 2012
Farewerll SIR James Crosby
Taxpaying ladies and gentlemen of the United Kingdom ...
SIR James Crosby, late Chief Executive of collapsed bank HBOS has apologised to you all (via the latest expensive, purposeless Parliamentary Committee). What for? For taking your billions upon billions (£20,000,000,000 actually) of hard earned money into his bank's tender loving care, for nothing, and whether you liked it or not, thus enabling it to carry on trading regardless and its battalions of highly incentivised employees to keep on earning, some might say pillaging.
SIR James admitted his conduct was reprehensible and his management was incompetent and MR Andy Haldane of The Bank of England went on to say in giving evidence to the Committee: "The banking crisis (sic) was as bad for the economy as a world war." So why, Bof E, has no one person, even SIR James Crosby, been shot, hung drawn and quartered, imprisoned or even seriously inconvenienced in just retribution for such deliberate acts of self interested and concerted theft? Acts so awesomely, recklessly daring as to make the Great Train Robbers seem like kids stealing lollipops from the village store.
Sir James said he had not handed back any of his £572,000 a year pension in spite of his 'good fortune' is selling two thirds of
his shares in the bank before it collapsed. Neither had he a problem requiring you and me to carry on addressing him as a SIR into the sunlit uplands of his comfortable retirement .
Crosby said he was
"horrified and deeply upset by what happened" in 2008.
After the 'interview' he went on to dine at the Connaught with two of three of his fellow malefactors / conspirators.
SIR James Crosby, late Chief Executive of collapsed bank HBOS has apologised to you all (via the latest expensive, purposeless Parliamentary Committee). What for? For taking your billions upon billions (£20,000,000,000 actually) of hard earned money into his bank's tender loving care, for nothing, and whether you liked it or not, thus enabling it to carry on trading regardless and its battalions of highly incentivised employees to keep on earning, some might say pillaging.
SIR James admitted his conduct was reprehensible and his management was incompetent and MR Andy Haldane of The Bank of England went on to say in giving evidence to the Committee: "The banking crisis (sic) was as bad for the economy as a world war." So why, Bof E, has no one person, even SIR James Crosby, been shot, hung drawn and quartered, imprisoned or even seriously inconvenienced in just retribution for such deliberate acts of self interested and concerted theft? Acts so awesomely, recklessly daring as to make the Great Train Robbers seem like kids stealing lollipops from the village store.
Sir James said he had not handed back any of his £572,000 a year pension in spite of his 'good fortune' is selling two thirds of
his shares in the bank before it collapsed. Neither had he a problem requiring you and me to carry on addressing him as a SIR into the sunlit uplands of his comfortable retirement .
Crosby said he was
"horrified and deeply upset by what happened" in 2008.
After the 'interview' he went on to dine at the Connaught with two of three of his fellow malefactors / conspirators.
December 1, 2012
Painting a mystery
"Tollie Farm. Loch Maree"
74 x 46cm oil on canvas
Another Autumnal view, this time one familiar to those who have travelled the Wester-Ross Ring Road between Gairloch and Poolewe.
We often drove down the track you can see on the right side of my painting to park the car by the water. We walked alongside the head of the loch then followed the river (Ewe) downstream, sometimes all the way to the (sea) Loch Ewe at the village of Poolewe. The dogs loved this walk. Quite rough going with very little by way of a trail. They often put up snipe and woodcock, disturbed roe deer, exotic ducks and various other wildlife - without ever actually catching anything, thank the Lord beca\use herself would have been most upset if they had. And, once, they discovered a fox's den, rare in these parts where Reynard is public enemy number one to the crofters.
There's always so much mystery hereabouts, solutions not always obvious. For instance, along here there's an extensive area of flat grass and heather land amongst the riverside slopes. I just feel it must have been levelled generations ago for the house of a clan leader. It surely cannot be natural. There are no other flatlands. Then one day when it came on to rain and we had to take shelter beneath a great overhanging rock, just beneath the surface one of the dogs, scratching away at the topsoil unearthed a miscellany of objects far removed from Highlands life, including a century old scent bottle. We had to wonder, always meant to go back to do a proper dig. Have not as yet so the mystery remains.
November 28, 2012
HAIR
Yesterday Dee finally became fed up with her long hair
falling out by the handful so she called in the local hairdressing lady to cut
it all off, right down to the scalp. Just a bit traumatic as you may imagine.
Some
weeks back a friend of her son Rudi, one who had suffered a similar condition, sent her a wig she no
longer needed.So she out it on ...
WE HAVE HAIR!
Godman Sachs forever
This is from my blog of earlier this month - you may recall my job application correspondence with the incumbent Governor of The Bank of England? ... "I have just received a most apologetic letter from the incumbent, copied
to the CE and all seventy new 'make me a millionaire' Members of Godman
(sic) Sachs."
I could get quite bitter and twisted at this point, for to my astonishment I have been overlooked in favour of - would you believe it - an ex-Godman Sachs man! GS's motto is: we toil not neither do we spin but we have all the fxxxxxx keys. They weren't kidding with that and they surely are not kidding now!
I understand they are now grooming someone to take over the Monarchy. Clearly the incumbent family simply doesn't know enough to milk the position to its maximum advantage. Step in, GS. You most certainly do.
By the way I understand that the B of E's incoming Governor was working in London for GS during the time said GS was aiding and abetting Robert Maxwell, (nee God knows Czeckoslovakian who), to pillage the pension plans of thousands of his employees, including those of that fine upstanding journal, The Daily Mirror. Of course all in 'The City' escaped scot free, and our new financial supremo went on to bigger and better hooverings.
All except Maxwell of course, who went for a swim amongst the sharks. I suspect I know who would have ended up eating whom. A little story set in the time when Robert was dashing around the UK buying up print and packaging companies. Having acquired a Print house in the North of England and being Roller chauffered back to the City down the MI with the taken over company's MD, there was a minor difference of opinion. Maxwell ordered his driver to stop on the hard shoulder. It was pouring down with rain, night time and a long way from anywhere. "Get the fxxx out," he instructed. Said driver helped the eviction and the good Robert drove away leaving my friend standing. Nice work.
to the CE and all seventy new 'make me a millionaire' Members of Godman
(sic) Sachs."
I could get quite bitter and twisted at this point, for to my astonishment I have been overlooked in favour of - would you believe it - an ex-Godman Sachs man! GS's motto is: we toil not neither do we spin but we have all the fxxxxxx keys. They weren't kidding with that and they surely are not kidding now!
I understand they are now grooming someone to take over the Monarchy. Clearly the incumbent family simply doesn't know enough to milk the position to its maximum advantage. Step in, GS. You most certainly do.
By the way I understand that the B of E's incoming Governor was working in London for GS during the time said GS was aiding and abetting Robert Maxwell, (nee God knows Czeckoslovakian who), to pillage the pension plans of thousands of his employees, including those of that fine upstanding journal, The Daily Mirror. Of course all in 'The City' escaped scot free, and our new financial supremo went on to bigger and better hooverings.
All except Maxwell of course, who went for a swim amongst the sharks. I suspect I know who would have ended up eating whom. A little story set in the time when Robert was dashing around the UK buying up print and packaging companies. Having acquired a Print house in the North of England and being Roller chauffered back to the City down the MI with the taken over company's MD, there was a minor difference of opinion. Maxwell ordered his driver to stop on the hard shoulder. It was pouring down with rain, night time and a long way from anywhere. "Get the fxxx out," he instructed. Said driver helped the eviction and the good Robert drove away leaving my friend standing. Nice work.
November 26, 2012
What next for those who come next?
http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=6Cf7IL_eZ38&vq=medium Click oh this and take a look at Corning Glasss' vision of our future.
Heaven or hell for those who come next? Me, I'm still trying to work out an answer. But I don't know, nobody's smelling any flowers and there doesn't seem to be much in the way of food for the soul amidst all the clever clever digital tech, (presumably each of us still will have a soul in this 'future'), so ...?
Heaven or hell for those who come next? Me, I'm still trying to work out an answer. But I don't know, nobody's smelling any flowers and there doesn't seem to be much in the way of food for the soul amidst all the clever clever digital tech, (presumably each of us still will have a soul in this 'future'), so ...?
November 24, 2012
"Lochan with Rhodedendrons and Water Lilies"
This is one of my latest oils on canvas size c. 46 x 36 cmm. It is a sight very familiar to those who travel the Wester-Ross Ring road between Poolewe and Aultbea in late Spring, early Summer - rhodedendron and water lily time.
The little lochan (I know not its name) has caused more than a few to stop their cars, searching for a non-existent parking place.
I've fallen in love all over again with oil paints and am busily working through a series of twelve, ready for our 2014 calendar. Our 2013 effort was all sold out to the shops months ago and now to private sales also. It must be the 3-way combination of my pastel landscapes, Eoghain MacLean's wildlife photos and the accompanying narratives that have made it so much in demand. 'Something different' as WHS and many more have remarked.
By the way if you're interested in the original "Lochan with Rhodedendrons and Water Lilies" it is for sale at £350 unframed, payable after approval on receipt, delivered your address (UK - overseas plus courier at cost).
November 22, 2012
Coitus interruptus (literal)
After eighteen chapters I'm about to tell my subscribers on www.bryanislipauthor.com that there's going to be a break in transmission. A kind of literary coitus interruptus ahead of the climactic chapters of THE BOOK, my novel in progress.
My gut feeling, supported by some readers, is
that the main storyline has become a bit entangled in its own peripherals.
So, I’m going to make a big effort to stand back and look at the novel as a whole unit. After that I'm going to recontruct it and reinforce its characters in an attempt to give it the strength and focus I believe (as I hope will you, its reader) that its
main theme deserves.
Who is the stranger on the hill who appeared and spoke to
Hector Mackenzie (soon to be V.C.) back in 1914? What properties within that uisca beatha (whisky)?
And what of The Book they found alongside it in that cave up on a Scottish Highlands hill? Is it really the music of the spheres, the true meaning of everything, is that really what the disadvantaged Jamie is seeing / reading / understanding?
From out of the mists of a writer's imagination have appeared answers, you may think important ones, but before bringing things to their stunning (and natural) conclusion I have to be sure that what
comes before is relevant and is written down as well as I can write it. I don't know how long this will take but it will be done, God willing.
November 21, 2012
Paradise Lost?
What do you call a parasitic life form that tries to destroy its host?
Anwer A: Cancer (host: me, you, anyone)
Answer B: The human race (host: planet Earth, inner space)
I've found it necessary of late to think more deeply about aberration, for there's little that's more personally aberrant than cancer. And barring the odd cometary collision there's nothing more aberrant to our planetary home than you and me and all the rest of us. Humanity growing cancer-like out of control, degrading itself with maximum promiscuity along the way. Each one of us wanting, demanding accumulatively a great deal more than our host planet can possibly give without eventual collapse.
The irony is that we are the one single species that has evolved to the point where it has the outright capability to control itself by numbers as by demand as by behaviour. The one single species, in fact, that has been given the power of God.
Will it/we come to do so? I hope, yes. If we can find the cure for cancer, or at least discover its cause/s, and we might well, then we can surely find the far more important cure - i.e. a way to survive without destroying our host - for the human race as a whole.
Dark thoughts? No. At least, no darker than John Milton's Paradise Lost that I'm reading at the moment.
Anwer A: Cancer (host: me, you, anyone)
Answer B: The human race (host: planet Earth, inner space)
I've found it necessary of late to think more deeply about aberration, for there's little that's more personally aberrant than cancer. And barring the odd cometary collision there's nothing more aberrant to our planetary home than you and me and all the rest of us. Humanity growing cancer-like out of control, degrading itself with maximum promiscuity along the way. Each one of us wanting, demanding accumulatively a great deal more than our host planet can possibly give without eventual collapse.
The irony is that we are the one single species that has evolved to the point where it has the outright capability to control itself by numbers as by demand as by behaviour. The one single species, in fact, that has been given the power of God.
Will it/we come to do so? I hope, yes. If we can find the cure for cancer, or at least discover its cause/s, and we might well, then we can surely find the far more important cure - i.e. a way to survive without destroying our host - for the human race as a whole.
Dark thoughts? No. At least, no darker than John Milton's Paradise Lost that I'm reading at the moment.
November 18, 2012
More power to the people
Those with long memories my think back to 13th November 2012 or thereabouts and my blogs reporting my correspondence with The Bank of England re my application for the soon to be vacant post of Governor. They will also recall that this exchange ended in acrimony to put it mildly, extreme scurrility to be more truthful.
To my surprise it seems I'm not yet out of the hunt for a new B of E Governor! I have just received a most apologetic letter from the incumbent, copied to the CE and all seventy new millionaire Members of Godman
(sic) Sachs. It seems The Bank has run out of applicants, the job being the
modern day equivalent of a term in the village stocks being pelted with
overripe fruit and rotten eggs, excreta etc.
However I'm now about to
write back telling them I'd rather be dropped into a snakepit head first
or marooned on a desert island for ten years with Mrs Thatcher. So they can
keep it. Thanks.
However I shall add one caveat. I would in fact accept the position if, firstly, I am given full powers to take back all four hundred thousand million pound notes that they have in effect taken from the public purse and have given free of charge to the the employees and shareholders of their friends over the road in The City. That's on the one hand. On the other, I want the power to use the returns for the building of factories that make things people want to buy (instead of buying them in from bloody China.) On the third hand I have to have the power to fire each and every Bof E employee before setting time fuses to strategically placed bombs and, being last out, locking up that bloody great big door behind me.
Yes, power to the people!
To my surprise it seems I'm not yet out of the hunt for a new B of E Governor! I have just received a most apologetic letter from the incumbent, copied to the CE and all seventy new millionaire Members of Godman
(sic) Sachs. It seems The Bank has run out of applicants, the job being the
modern day equivalent of a term in the village stocks being pelted with
overripe fruit and rotten eggs, excreta etc.
However I'm now about to
write back telling them I'd rather be dropped into a snakepit head first
or marooned on a desert island for ten years with Mrs Thatcher. So they can
keep it. Thanks.
However I shall add one caveat. I would in fact accept the position if, firstly, I am given full powers to take back all four hundred thousand million pound notes that they have in effect taken from the public purse and have given free of charge to the the employees and shareholders of their friends over the road in The City. That's on the one hand. On the other, I want the power to use the returns for the building of factories that make things people want to buy (instead of buying them in from bloody China.) On the third hand I have to have the power to fire each and every Bof E employee before setting time fuses to strategically placed bombs and, being last out, locking up that bloody great big door behind me.
Yes, power to the people!
