Return of the something or other....

Right, so yes, it's been miles too long since the last entry here, but I'll hopefully be updating this soon. I have only two books to get in the 'Fighting Fantasy' series I used to collect as a kid. Once I eventually get my hands on them, I'm going to play them all in order, and write reviews for each one. Including Steve Jackson's Sorcery series, that's almost 70 books. Going to be quite a task, but hey, it's something different, eh?

Annoyingly though, the last two I need (Magehunter and Deathmoor) seem to be as rare as hen's teeth, and when you do find them, they're being sold at ridiculously over-the-odds prices (I refuse to pay £60 for one used paperback).

Eventually though, someone with no clue to their rarity will fire them on e-bay or somewhere for 99p or whatever.

In other words, watch this space.

Ciao

Monumental Effort

To many people, the perception of William Wallace is that of a diminutive Australian actor with blue and white face-paint screaming 'Freedom' as he is brutally beheaded. That a stone statue was controversially built close to the site of the Wallace Monument in Stirling bearing that same actor's features did little to allay the myth. At 220 feet, the sandstone tower which sits atop the 300-foot Abbey Craig, the crag from where Wallace supposedly plotted the famous victory over the English at Stirling Bridge in 1297, casts an imposing figure across the city skyline. Despite living in the area for the best part of forty years, I decided to make only my second trip there. Staying in a town littered with historical buildings, it's easy to take these types of places for granted. For example, I wonder how many Florentine residents have ever climbed the Duomo or visited the Uffizi gallery.

On what was a brisk spring day, I set off to explore the monument, and was greeted with a welcoming sight as soon as I reached the base of the hill. The aforementioned statue had been thankfully removed, replaced with a new reception area and visitor centre. The climb up to the foot of the monument is a short, but steep one. A lightly gravelled path, initially adorned on either side with wild shrub before expanding into a more dense wooded area, slowly winds its way towards the spectacular pillar. Other paths would branch off at intervals during the ascent, giving the walk an element of mystery, an illusion cruelly shattered by a shuttle bus carrying the less energetic visitors to the top of the hill. Undeterred, I soon arrived at the base, and marvelled at the fine view that the top of the crag afforded. I wasn't here for this view however, and as I entered the monument, it felt like I was transported back in time to the thirteenth century. The monument itself was built during the 1860's, funded by the public, with donations from ex-patriate Scots from all corners of the globe as a homage to Wallace.

Unlike many structures of its type, it's not just one long dizzying climb up a spiral staircase to the top. The walk is broken up by three large, cavernous, stone chambers, each containing many stories and artefacts from Scotland's rich history. The first chamber contains the purported actual broadsword used by Wallace in battle, and it's a mightily impressive sight. Standing over six feet in height, one can only wonder how the man ever lifted the thing, far less battled effectively with it. I continued my ascent before reaching the second of the chambers, which is by some way, the most interesting of the three. Taking pride of place across the four walls of the room are large marble busts of many of Scotland's prominent historical figures. The intricately carved faces of Robert the Bruce, Thomas Carlyle, David Livingstone (I presume), and Adam Smith all seemed very much at home in a room labelled 'Hall of Heroes', and I couldn't resist a smile on noticing the eyes of Robert Burns and Sir Walter Scott, two of Scotland's best loved pen-smiths, seemed to be locked on one another. The third and final cavern is the most basic of the three, with various newspaper cuttings and old photos imposed onto a framed structure. After the magnificence of the previous chambers, this seemed little more than an afterthought, sadly.

And so, the final climb. The last few steps to the viewing gallery up ahead. After being harangued by an American tourist coming the other way for only wearing a T-shirt, letting me know in no uncertain terms it was 'bitterly cold' at the top, I finally arrived. There are few things in life which genuinely take your breath away, but the view from the top of this fine building was magnificent. Thankfully it was a clear day, which allowed me to see over to the Forth Bridges in the east, the ragged peaks of Ben Ledi and Ben Lomond to the west, the subtle contours of the Ochil Hills to the north, and the entire city of Stirling, complete with the foreboding castle to the south.
The monument is a fitting epitaph to William Wallace in many ways, and I think the great man himself might just have approved. I believe the Australian was quite taken with the place too....

Stirling Albion FC

As we all know Stirling Albion Football Club is for sale. Chairman Peter McKenzie has announced to the world on several occasions that he is looking to step down and be relieved of his majority shareholding in the club. Talk of mystery consortiums has come and gone and despite the chairman hanging on for a white knight to charge over the horizon the offers simply haven't materialised. It's clear Peter wants out so maybe it's down to the fans to give him his wish. How do we do this though ? Peter won't give the club away and we need to show him we mean business and that we really are the people to lead the club into the future.

Therefore at this crucial moment in the history of Stirling Albion FC the fans have come together to act. Driven by the Supporters Trust, the Supporters Club, Young Reds, Websites and fans old and new have united. Backed by our own team of legal experts and campaign professionals we will never have a better chance of giving our club the future we all think it deserves. For months now ideas, options, proposals and suggestions have been discussed until a plan for taking the club forward was agreed. It's now time to get YOU involved and so we are therefore pleased to announce what could well be one of the most important meetings in our clubs recent history. For reasons of legality, confidentiality and publicity we cannot go into too much detail at this point in time. All we can promise is you will not be disappointed with what you see.

Where - King Robert Hotel, Glasgow Road, Bannockburn
When - Wednesday 6th May - 7.00pm for a 7.15pm start
What - Campaign for Community ownership of Stirling Albion
Why - We can’t do it without YOU!!

If you have any interest in the future of Stirling Albion and it’s place in our community we would plead with you to attend. We’re not too proud to beg. Please, please take the time to be there and to help play your part in shaping the future of Stirling Albion.

Bring a friend, bring your family, bring a neighbour. Bring anyone you know who runs a business in the town or anyone who has even the smallest of soft spots for the Albion. Everybody is welcome. Please be assured this is not a gimmick. This campaign has been months in the planning and is in our opinion possibly the one and only chance the fans and community will get to have a say in the running of their team. This is not about egos or making names for ourselves. This is about the long term security and viability of Stirling Albion Football Club. Hopefully this is something we all feel equally passionate about.

Look forward to seeing you on the 6th May.

Please feel free to contact us at info@safcst.org.uk if you have any queries about the meeting.

Stirling Albion Supporters Trust
www.safcst.org.uk

Between the shifting shadows, in the no-man's zone...

....there's bar at the end of the street.

In a few weeks time, I shall don the old travelling shoes and head down to our nation's capital city for a weekend break, to catch up with old friends, and to sample the delights of the various ales and alehouses of London Town. Booked my train ticket and accommodation with generous discounts for booking online (I love t'internet sometimes), and during mid May, I'll be on my merry way.

I figured that doing the normal touristy thing and staying in a hotel in a central location was a bit dull, as I want to see the real London. Therefore I've arranged to stay in a hotel in the Crystal Palace area in the south east of the city, close to the border with Croydon. A mate who stays in London lives closeby here, so it made sense. My new favourite toy, Google Streetview, has given me an insight into the area, and it looks a suitably downbeat working class area of the city. And where there's working class people, there's working class pubs. I've had a look at some of the local hostelries, and it's fair whet my appetite for the journey ahead.

Saturday will be spent in the confines of the city centre however, as a few of us will be battening down the hatches as we attempt the Circle Line Subcrawl. As a veteran of the Glasgow version of this, it feels almost like I've qualified for the Champions League of Subcrawls. It's a sterner challenge too, with 28 stops compared to Glasgow's 16. That said, we'll have to miss a fair few of them, as doing this one on a Saturday is without question the worst day, given all watering holes in 'the city' will be closed, which accounts for around six stops. Apparently, the capital's financial workers don't venture down that area of a weekend, so the pubs stay closed, which is damn inconsiderate if you ask me, but there you are.

No rest for the wicked though, because the Sunday will be spent exploring the local area around the hotel. Well, that's if I'm still alive after the marathon crawl of the day before. No-one says the Champions League is easy after all...

Deepest grave, supreme deceiver....

......brave new worlds and cursed emotion

Just over 25 years ago, I sat in a typically depressing school classroom, listening to a typically depressing old codger of a teacher. A mate of mine pulled a book out of his bag after the lesson, and things changed overnight. As a 12-yr old, my reading habits of the time rarely ventured further than the latest Whizzer & Chips annual or whatever Marvel comic was doing the rounds. However, that night I was introduced to an intriguing new literary concept called Fighting Fantasy.

"It's a book you not only read, but you decide what to do in it" was how he described this book, enticingly called, "The Warlock of Firetop Mountain". And that's pretty much exactly what it was. Armed with only a couple of dice, a pencil, and a rubber, it was up to you which path you chose, which doors you opened, and which hideous monsters you fought. As you might imagine, for a 12-yr old in 1983, this was truly mesmerising stuff. Not only did it develop my reading skills, it also led me into more straightforward fiction novels, which I've not stopped reading since.

Although my reading habits have now progressed somewhat from fighting Orcs in a dark cavern, I recently returned to these Fighting Fantasy books. I kept most of the original series which I'd collected back in the day. I think I had around the first 34 of them, and over the last few months have tried to complete the 59-strong collection through the wonders of Amazon and E-Bay. I even started 'playing' a few of them again, and just like watching an old tv show, waves of nostalgia flooded over me, memories of a more innocent era returning.

Like any drug, the effects of nostalgia only last so long, but I'll keep this collection, and when my daughter is old enough, I'll introduce her to the wonders of goblins and demons. And that's before I ever take her to Recreation Park in Alloa for the football! The world is now full of Playstations and Nintendo Wiis, but I'd like to think there will still be a place for these wonderful paperbacks. There always will be for me, anyway.

A hurricane blew out of Memphis.....

....revolution in the south.

Do you remember the first 'single' you ever bought? If you're of a certain age and persuasion, you could be forgiven for thinking I'm asking you about that most illicit of schoolboy japes, buying cigarettes from the local ice cream van, but no, the question is somewhat more basic. The digital kids of today won't believe it, but for many years, the purchasing of 7 inch discs of vinyl was an essential ritual, and developed many playground bragging rights.

I was a relatively late starter when it came to popular music. Neither of my parents were ever into the more contemporary sounds of the day, which considering both were in their late teens/early 20's when Elvis first blew away the cobwebs of dull balladry, is somewhat of a surprise. No, to them, listening pleasure was some James Last or Dean Martin, neither of which interested me, so for the first nine years of my life, pop music pretty much passed me by. Which meant so did punk. It was 1981 before any of my pocket money was exchanged for a record, by which time punk had all but died a death, and the post punk branches were extending far and wide. I often wonder what my musical outlook would be now had I been born five years earlier.

Anyway, it was around this time that I was starting to properly listen to the charts on the radio. John Peel's shows were, for me, a few years off at this stage, and the first bands to really catch my attention were Madness and Adam & The Ants. When I was at school, you were either into one or the other, so I often got disparaging looks on informing others that I liked both bands. It was also around this time I started getting into the retro sounds of late 50's rock 'n roll, and the only real contemporary artist to plough that furrow at that time was Shakin' Stevens. By coincidence or not then, the first single I ever paid money for was the Welsh Elvis's cover of the Stuart Hamblen classic, 'This Ole House'. Those were the days when you could buy records from Boots, of all places. Other artists started to appear performing those retro sounds, such as the Polecats, The Jets, and the wonderful Stray Cats, and it was from there I developed a penchant for the burgeoning 'psychobilly' scene. Some wild acts eminated from this, with even wilder costumes. Who can forget the recently deceased figure of Lux Interior from The Cramps, for example.

During this period, I had become disillusioned with the current hit parade. Nothing there was interesting me, until two bands entered the fray that would change my musical outlook forever. Mixing the final fragments of punk with the bombastic sounds of the bagpipes, Big Country arrived and offered a fantastic release from the dull sounds of Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran. The band's debut album, The Crossing subsequently became the first full length album I ever bought, despite taking weeks to save up for it. Hey, £4 was a lot of money when you were earning £1 a week in pocket money! It's an album I still listen to regularly today, and it's never got old or tired. The current climate of Ipods and playlists means I can now add the previously discarded title track onto the end of the album which makes it even more complete.

And then there was The Smiths. I'll never forget my first sight of Morrissey sashaying across the Top of the Pops stage, gladioli sprouting out his pockets, and wearing a hearing aid. Here was an act which was truly defiantly different, but still had songs which were highly accessible. They were arguably the first band whose lyrics I paid proper attention to. Witty, yet acerbic, punchy, yet thought provoking. The band's detractors have always labelled them 'miserable', which to any true Smiths fans is as false a description as they come. It's the equivalent of calling Westlife life-affirming. The band's piece de resistance was the sublime 'Queen is Dead' opus, another of my all time favourites.

From then on, I've embraced many different genres of music. I had a worrying period in the early 90's of listening to nothing but country music, and not the particularly great kind. I'll forever thank Oasis for rescuing me from the twin spectres of Garth Brooks and Nanci Griffith.

Of course, these days, most music is more readily available than ever before. I hear many people, young and old, waxing lyrical about the Radio 1 playlist, and I can't help feeling annoyed. When I was young, Radio 1 was pretty much the only place you could hear new music, but now there's next to no excuse for blindly following the one avenue. It's sheer laziness. How I wish the Internet and digital radio were available in 1981. Perhaps 'This Ole House' would never have been my first ever single.....

A singer in my bloodstream......

.....stayed mainline all my life.

One of the many things people have commented about me is my somewhat colourful imagination. As a teenager I would often while away the hours in between thinking about girls and football writing short stories. They were mainly awful of course, but the ideas were there. It's something I've never properly followed up, as the mundane realities of life followed, and I, in turn, followed them.

But now the creative juices are stirring again. Having recently been made redundant, I'm at a crossroads. The notion of spending the rest of my working days tied to both a desk and a 9-5 schedule is something which fills me with as much terror as the prospect of one day in the company of Kerry Katona watching endless reruns of Big Brother. With this in mind, I sent off for a prospectus for an official writing course from the Writer's Bureau which arrived today. I've always had the ideas, I just need something to hone these ideas and bring them to life, and this could be the very thing. The course isn't cheap, and in the present climate of unemployment and parenthood, is a risk. Yet, the alternative of a life working for the man is just so unappealing. The next few weeks could certainly be life changing in the professional world of Planet Mac.

My daughter is a huge inspiration in this. I look at her with a mixture of pride, love and awe in equal measures. It truly is the greatest feeling in the world being a father, as clichéd as it sounds, and I want to be someone for her. I want her to grow up and tell her friends that the person's name on the cover of the novel in the bookstore is that of her father.

So, will I take the plunge and get professional help to further these ambitions? To be honest, it's been many years since I've had any real ambitions. Years of mindlessly toeing the line, heading towards retirement in that socially pre-determined path. There's a stirring in the air. Is it time to embrace it or let it go.....