the belfry chronicles

stubble scratching

2009-07-11T15:29:00.001+01:00

Luke doesn’t smoke, but he steals a lot of cigarettes. It’s a habit we used to share. I was more honest about it. I admitted I was a smoker but was usually too broke to buy my own. Luke’s a drunk smoker. After x number of beers (or bottles of wine, measures of whisky, etc. etc.) he starts chaining somebody else’s cigarettes. Usually they’re his brother’s. Marcus is younger

large books and reflections.

2009-07-11T07:19:00.002+01:00

I find long books awkward and a tad daunting. It's the physicality of it: those awkward first pages and the imbalance between those pages read and those remaining. My index finger saving my place on page 15 of 1079. The feel of those pages unread is the daunting thing, the thinness of those first few a perennial disappointment. It would be far more comfortable to jump in around 450. Until that

rusty hangover

2009-06-22T11:46:00.003+01:00

My writing feels rusty. Like some manner of creative arthritis, my fingers need coaxing to tap and pound the keys. The gaps between the joints have atrophied a touch. I'm like a stop-motion skeleton clicking away. The words are there, I just need to remember them. And where they go. And, occasionally, why they go there. It's kind of like a hangover. A really bad hangover. You know those sorts of

sunrise and salmon bagels...

2009-06-21T16:29:00.002+01:00

I hadn't been drinking. Not excessively, anyway.I just didn't feel like sleeping. One DVD finished and I popped in another. It was one of those late nights: bed felt like more of an effort than staying up. The last movie on was John Boorman's Excalibur. I loved that movie. Let down by its budget effects but still impressive: proper, filthy mediaeval production design but with the proper nod to

the passing of vintages

2009-06-20T23:53:00.000+01:00

I've not been here for awhile. One day it was March and I was on a train and now it's almost the end of June and I don't know where it's all gone or how I can begin to catch up with myself. I'm not sure I can. I think of the little bits and pieces of my life passing by, unchronicled, and I wince. My notebooks are half-finished at the moment. Begun in heady enthusiasm, frantically scribbled they

jostling tracks

2009-03-25T14:03:00.004Z

The light falls sparsely on the borders, the clouds creating a patchwork upon the countryside. This trip is old hat, almost a commute. The jittery train dashes north from London to Scotland and the landmarks are comforting and familiar. Once we pass Berwick the tracks hug the sea most of the way to Edinburgh. I stare out over the horizon and down the crevices that dot the coast, watching the

the moments along the way

2009-03-23T17:23:00.004Z

The last week flew by. I'm not even sure I can attempt a chronology of events. There were birthday parties and beach parties and ill-health and whisky mishaps. I worked and rehearsed and worked and wrote and worked and baked bread. I failed to shake this relentless cold which, even now, drives a steal spike through my sinuses and takes an electric sander to my chest and throat. I lived entirely

birds on the water, coffee on the boil

2009-03-16T12:25:00.000Z

The cygnets have nearly lost all their grey. I saw the four of them fishing at the mouth of the Burn, where it spills next to West Sands and into the bay. Their parents were nowhere to be seen. They'll be gone soon. I don't know where. Somewhere with a nice bit of water and a lack of predators hopefully. My first espressos of the day. I started with tea and moved on to coffee. Usually it's the

monday repose

2009-03-09T16:11:00.003Z

The weekend falls back into a bit of a haze. There was a lot of drinking, a lot of whiskies ordered alongside a lot of beers. A lot of headaches suffered and snooze buttons hit. Saturday morning it took a few moments to realise the remains of pizza on the table were the remains of MY pizza. I performed in front of hundreds of people Saturday night, still suffering from Friday. Then the pub

sinking fowl

2009-03-05T13:04:00.005Z

Cormorants often look as though they're sinking. It seems like they're struggling to stay afloat, like they need to get the better of their buoyancy. I watch them from my window, their dark shapes barely bobbing along the top of the water. I expect them to disappear underneath the surface but they never do. Time's sped up and March has arrived. The bitter cold today suggests that once again those

wee update.

2009-02-20T13:50:00.003Z

My camera's sitting on the kitchen table, useless on this mute, bleak day. The sun was out this morning only for its rising. It crept above the water and for a few moments it lit up the sea and the sand. The low-hanging pall obscured it soon afterward and has done so since.I've been pondering ghosts and shadows and trying to work out the difference between motivation and purpose. Destiny and

dualities

2009-02-17T11:58:00.004Z

It's a grey day and the sea's calm. The soft surf laps the shore with a fizz; it sounds like a fresh-poured gin and tonic.A few days ago my flatmate and I threw a baseball around in the afternoon sun. Walkers were out in force, along with their dogs or partners, sometimes both. We got the odd look - baseball is uncommon in Scotland. The banter was about baseball; chat regarding the Red Sox and

finally

2009-02-15T16:26:00.001Z

finally Originally uploaded by rwhbrayWoke up the other morning and this is what I saw. There's quite a lot to write here, but thought I'd share this first. Expect a long, rambling entry very soon.

univeral law and the disarray of a desk

2009-02-07T00:24:00.005Z

I can't really clean my desk at the moment. The laws of the universe forbid it. Well, they make it very difficult. Matter can neither be created or destroyed, you see, whilst important paperwork can be created in vast, immeasurable quantities and yet... still cannot be destroyed. Temporarily lost? Yes. But only at the time, that singular moment, that it is needed most.My desk sits in the corner

lazy flurry

2009-02-05T00:02:00.002Z

The winds abate and the clouds rise and a gentle flurry of snow drifts with a lazy abandon, often not bothered with gravity's grip. The sea laps instead of rages. The air has that crisp taste to it that comes with stillness. It pinches the inside of your nostrils, but doesn't hurt. The snowflakes move so slowly you can follow one for a good few seconds. I watch from the window, looking up from my

winter

2009-02-04T19:50:00.001Z

winter Originally uploaded by rwhbrayJust a wee shot of St Andrews pier in the recent gales. I'm working on a new post as well.

debates and morning weather updates

2009-02-02T10:32:00.004Z

There is a small lump of melting snow lying in the bottom right corner of my window. Flurries fly every now and again, but as far as I can tell, that's the only snow that's settled. And it doesn't seem to be settling for long. I find it an outrage that London gets snow and St Andrews, perched on a rock jutting out into the North Sea, 400 miles to the north, gets fuck all.Ah... nevermind. Since

laughing and hovering

2009-02-01T16:51:00.006Z

The world looked cold today. A monochrome sketch of a pale, glowering sky met by a slate, ravaged sea. All things de-saturated, the frigid air and bitter wind sucked the colour out of everything. The gulls gave smug looks as they hovered on and with the wind, floating without effort and laughing. Gulls seem to feel no cold. They fly and hover because they can. They spread their wings and the air

ice crystals on pavement

2009-01-26T09:32:00.006Z

It's too cold to run right now. The sun shines bright on the frost-crusted pavement and I doubt the grip of my feet upon the earth. Silhouettes walk their dogs on the beach, bundled tight. Every silhouette has their personal cloud of mist that trails them like steam on a locomotive. I can imagine the crunch of frozen grass as one of those silhouettes takes their wee Scotty dog along the lawn

note

2009-01-02T15:28:00.003Z

I have a hangover and need to go to work in a couple of hours. Ugh. Will post properly soon.By the way, if I had a choice, I would only drink port from 1927. Wow that was fine.

on hangovers and railroads

2008-12-23T16:52:00.003Z

I've spent a lot of time hungover on trains. Once I had such an awful hangover I jumped on a train in hopes of escaping it.It didn't work.I used to be the last to leave the party, the last to bed, sometimes wincing at the morning sun as I lay down my head. I'd make or buy breakfast, pour a bloody mary or a beer for myself and anyone else dumb enough to be welcoming the dawn with me. On more than

newspapers

2008-12-19T23:04:00.003Z

Sometimes it was Charles St, sometimes it was Park St. It depended on what walk I felt like. It depended on whether I'd lost my 'T' pass yet. It usually took a week to lose the pass. Taxpayers' money to waste. The guy at Charles St knew me. He kindly let me through, knowing I wasn't selling my pass on the black market for drug money or tricks. We got them for each month. Multi-coloured plastic,

Beer

2008-12-13T20:39:00.002Z

Just to let you all know, my flatmate and I started a new blog of tasting notes for guest ales and fine bottled beers. It's here, and under Guest Tales in my links list.

the view

2008-12-10T16:23:00.002Z

St Andrews harbourOriginally uploaded by rwhbray I'm working on a post at the moment, but in the meantime, I thought I'd share a pic I like. This is the view from my flat.I look out the window a lot.

older and wiser?

2008-12-05T17:05:00.002Z

Sister Mary Andrew stormed out: a harbinger of the apocalypse. The anger in those eyes held no Christian charity or turning of the other cheek. As I plucked a clump of grass from behind my ear she descended the short three steps from the front entrance of the school down to the lawn. Her finger waved at us from her outstretched arm, accusing.She was not a slight woman. She was built like a