Kandinskyesque
Friend of Leo's
It's always a difficult week for me at this time of the year.
Apologies in advance for the long post.
Sunday was the 7th anniversary of my closest friend's passing. Bowel cancer and weeks before his 50th birthday. I've never felt closer to another human being despite him spending his last 10 years in Vancouver. He even introduced me to a girl who he swam with in the Scottish team and she eventually became Mrs K.
It was the guitar that built that friendship; we were both 10y/o altar boys in the church, from similar large families and took up the guitar at the same time.
Tuesday was 39 years since my brain injury, that one random event that changed the course of my life. A miracle I survived at the time, not many did with my type of injury back in '84.
There's a lot of kerfuffle going on at the moment with it: impending hospital assessments, some unanticipated later in life problems/complications and the involvement of politicians and lawyers as the misdiagnoses and missed diagnoses are being unpicked.
All due to one random trip on a pavement into an uncovered public utility trench. Two days in the casualty ward before they noticed the cerebral fluid coming out my left ear. Then 5-7 hours of having my skull removed while they removed the haemorrhages and clots.
Strangely the first thing I asked for when I came out of the induced coma was my guitar.
Tomorrow will be 25 years, since I lost my engineering job as a result of my unreliable health. I haven't had a proper job since, it's been a mixture of childcare, renovating houses for myself and family and playing music or coaching young singers.
I work when I can, always grateful when I can and give 100%.
Anyways, as an antidote on Tuesday afternoon, I jumped into Mrs K's car with the Godin nylon and my wee THR5a battery amp in the back, along with something for a fire, a Kelly kettle and some tea bags,
Almost on autopilot, I took the 90 minute drive to Glen Lyon in Perthshire.
Stopped for a snack and coffee at the Fortingall Hotel at the start of the glen, and where the oldest living tree in Europe resides in the adjacent churchyard; a favoured spot for me, and also in the past a place of choice for Aldous Huxley, CS Lewis and Eric Blair (aka Orwell).
Then switched my phone off and made the 30 miles single track drive down to the end of Glen Lyon catching the odd view of Schiehallion in my rear view mirror as I negotiated the twists and turns, stopping once to 'allow' a 10 pointer stag cross in front of me.
Not my photo but this is where I ended up...
My favourite place, just as dusk was settling in at 6pm and a full moon, clear sky (-10 celsius), and plenty owls, deer, white and brown hares for company.
I sat by the small fire I lit, for some navel gazing and I also noticed a lot of periods of no thought (after the event of course), just getting lost in the vast landscape and starry sky.
I played my guitar a good bit, some eerie DADGAD celtic tunes and occasionally retreated to the back seat of the car to allow my fingers to navigate the fretboard.
By the time I emptied my bladder onto the dying embers of my fire (a ritual I always do), it was midnight. 6 hours had passed in the blinking of an eye.
I took the drive home slowly on back roads (3 hours), in silence, running guitar scales in my head (I'm fairly new to theory) all the way home.
I slept most of yesterday, occasionally reaching for my bedside guitar to run some scales. It's the one constant in my ever changing life and despite all my GASsing, tone chasing and sausage finger days, I'm grateful for every second I've put my fingers on the strings.
Woody Guthrie's famous sticker comes to mind "This machine kills fascists" my sticker, if I ever get one, will say "This machine soothes souls".
It's more than just a tool!!!
Rant over.
Apologies in advance for the long post.
Sunday was the 7th anniversary of my closest friend's passing. Bowel cancer and weeks before his 50th birthday. I've never felt closer to another human being despite him spending his last 10 years in Vancouver. He even introduced me to a girl who he swam with in the Scottish team and she eventually became Mrs K.
It was the guitar that built that friendship; we were both 10y/o altar boys in the church, from similar large families and took up the guitar at the same time.
Tuesday was 39 years since my brain injury, that one random event that changed the course of my life. A miracle I survived at the time, not many did with my type of injury back in '84.
There's a lot of kerfuffle going on at the moment with it: impending hospital assessments, some unanticipated later in life problems/complications and the involvement of politicians and lawyers as the misdiagnoses and missed diagnoses are being unpicked.
All due to one random trip on a pavement into an uncovered public utility trench. Two days in the casualty ward before they noticed the cerebral fluid coming out my left ear. Then 5-7 hours of having my skull removed while they removed the haemorrhages and clots.
Strangely the first thing I asked for when I came out of the induced coma was my guitar.
Tomorrow will be 25 years, since I lost my engineering job as a result of my unreliable health. I haven't had a proper job since, it's been a mixture of childcare, renovating houses for myself and family and playing music or coaching young singers.
I work when I can, always grateful when I can and give 100%.
Anyways, as an antidote on Tuesday afternoon, I jumped into Mrs K's car with the Godin nylon and my wee THR5a battery amp in the back, along with something for a fire, a Kelly kettle and some tea bags,
Almost on autopilot, I took the 90 minute drive to Glen Lyon in Perthshire.
Stopped for a snack and coffee at the Fortingall Hotel at the start of the glen, and where the oldest living tree in Europe resides in the adjacent churchyard; a favoured spot for me, and also in the past a place of choice for Aldous Huxley, CS Lewis and Eric Blair (aka Orwell).
Then switched my phone off and made the 30 miles single track drive down to the end of Glen Lyon catching the odd view of Schiehallion in my rear view mirror as I negotiated the twists and turns, stopping once to 'allow' a 10 pointer stag cross in front of me.
Not my photo but this is where I ended up...
My favourite place, just as dusk was settling in at 6pm and a full moon, clear sky (-10 celsius), and plenty owls, deer, white and brown hares for company.
I sat by the small fire I lit, for some navel gazing and I also noticed a lot of periods of no thought (after the event of course), just getting lost in the vast landscape and starry sky.
I played my guitar a good bit, some eerie DADGAD celtic tunes and occasionally retreated to the back seat of the car to allow my fingers to navigate the fretboard.
By the time I emptied my bladder onto the dying embers of my fire (a ritual I always do), it was midnight. 6 hours had passed in the blinking of an eye.
I took the drive home slowly on back roads (3 hours), in silence, running guitar scales in my head (I'm fairly new to theory) all the way home.
I slept most of yesterday, occasionally reaching for my bedside guitar to run some scales. It's the one constant in my ever changing life and despite all my GASsing, tone chasing and sausage finger days, I'm grateful for every second I've put my fingers on the strings.
Woody Guthrie's famous sticker comes to mind "This machine kills fascists" my sticker, if I ever get one, will say "This machine soothes souls".
It's more than just a tool!!!
Rant over.
