I suppose they are wind turbines, but I like them. I’m a big fan of the things, I think they are great structures. Some folk say they are a blight on the landscape, I say fuck those people……

Yes, Windmill Video 11. I shot a LOT of crappy videos man.

Up by Drummuir? Is that how you spell it, I’ll google map it and post a screeny shot if I can be bothered….



Fuck knows, I think it was the Pauls Hill Windfarm, but google maps is a bit out of date on the street view and satellite shots. It looks about in the right place. 



nit cannae find it. it’s right aside Drummuir anyhow. just spent fucking yonks hypnotised by the google maps. and the google street view last captured in 2014, so a lot could have changed!!!!


It looks like the other side of the road where we entered, wind turbines looming like tripods ready to cap you before you make it to the white mountains, and only the one side is under construction on the google street view. yup that looks like the spot. 

I’m back on the old iphone since the sony phone is now totes fucked. Big crack across the screen, absolutely cunted. I’m hoping that when we get back to aberdeen the thing senses that it’s got a suitably fast connection and uploads a bunch of videos I shot in the 4k and that of the kids plootering to google photos. If not oh well. I used the iphone to take some videos of the magical wind turbines today, but the files are too big to try and upload on rural broadband.




Holiday photos. 

HIYAH fucktard! How’s the face aids?


Space rapists. Cock dangle. #RTJ: BAG OF DICKS. 

Gaybow. Not very clear, but it was raining man. Makes it hard to concentrate. Smart clouds though. Big sky round here. Wide-screen sky. Lots of flying creatures, some like dinosaurs. They could be related to the mystical nature of the Glenn. It’s a strange place. It would boil the Piss of a spazzy. 

Evil twisted twiggy tree. Sigh. It’s a bad scene. Twisted stump. Like a big wooden finger, scraping the sky. Are all trees evil? I’m not sure. This one is. Up and over the hill we saw this. THIS ISNAN EDIT OF THE PHOTO. I like to transfer the photos from me canon via a USB adapter to me tablet and then bugger about with them. No computer required thank fuck. Well cloudy computer as well with the Google cloud on the back up. Legit. Will not shoot in raw format, as it’s weasely cheating. 

  • Bastard tree
  • Another version
  • Also slightly edited. 

From the same walk, a ruined old farm house. A ruined old farm house that used to have people living in it. A ruined old farm house where my mother spent part of her childhood. It’s a right state, some cunt let sheep into it at some point. A disgrace.  I blame the SNP for this. I’m a lib dem now by the way. 

Which is ideal: MIDDLE GROUND, AND I CANT MAKE UP MY MIND ABOUT ANYTHING. I’m a wasted voter, and I do and don’t want my brexit. Should have gone to the Turriff show, wullie of Rennie was there, holding court amongsthis mong fans. The pillock. I would have still got a selfie with him though even though I find his politics totally sharny, he’s still a figure of great note and gravy like gravitas in our magnificent scotch parliament. 

Blistering blustery red sky yeah. More sky, great sky. Full of cloaked alien ships. I can see them quite clearly, you can’t because you are a dull bulb. Don’t take it personally.  No offence meant. I’ve been quite keen on shooting in the black and white a bit if it’s dull, then running a chintzy filter on the tablet. They come out quite cool, and I’ve sold a few to local yokels, down in the AZDAZ carport. Fifty buck, loaded image on a shit USB stick. Gather round, get yer witchy woo pictures here. Etc. 

See? Black and white. Shit filter. Dreamy. 

Sheets of rain rolling in. Dastardly Bastard precipitation. Ooft. 

Similar. The Bone collector in silhouette.  He’s always looking for bones. Dark rituals and power rangers. 

Really dig this one. The woods are dark and deep, frosty and smelling of fresh pine Piss. Reductionist radox.

I should tweet run the jewels with this heart warming image. Picture this: I’m a bag of dicks, etc……

Twats. Categorised cunts. 

The end of print media

Three videos, that confirm we live in a strange period.

Anyway. re the book cull. I did offload a fair pile of books into the charity bin near that fucking shop. The only ones still requiring a cull are the quite sizeable pile of science fiction book club titles. I bought a big havering job lot of them, and as is usual have quite a few doubles. Duplicate copies. Free to a guid home obviously. Or PayPal me the postage. Massive fan of posting stuff me. Except there’s no longer a handy local post office. I blame the biased unionist media for that obviously.

I seem to have three copies of the drunkards walk by Fred pohl. The iron thorn, that’s a guid one as well. Two copies. Mental.

As I tap away on the big phone writing this they lurk, slightly sorted just down there by the book shelf. The bookshelf with the ooottt light on it. The book shelf with the stuff I really wanted to keep. The guid stuff. The books I’ve read a hell of a lot more than once. Places to return to, places to escape to.


A hell of a lot of Simon, Silverberg, and banks. Steaming tit wank.

NOT SIMON. SIMAK.  All started with the goblin reservation. I think, a birthday present years ago. Good shout present presenter.

Turns out I need to go to the shop for milk. It’s all about scarcity here. I wish the wife would get her arse together and watch culture in decline, or not as the case may be. Should have got one of those dinky tablet compatible keyboards at Tesco yesterday, we all walked there. Quite a guid walk, as it happens. Past the big pipe etc. When we walked back the way Google play Card and bargain boots purchased two teenager types were sitting high on the pipe. MR robot and his G friend. Hacking on high, in the ABZ.  

Brilliant. Isla thought it was funny, but aware it would be dangerous for her to mimic.


The Bell end curve.

Social media is this currently on the subject of Scotland.

It’s deeply arsey, and as much as it’s fun there’s an awful lot of crap on both sides.

Twitter is particularly Cuntish, so I enjoy a lot of that BANTZ.





Decided reasonable



Swithering Gimps











UDI declaring            


Braveheart full             warpaint, SORZE




GERS is the LIES.            












ALSO hates the EU/Royal             Family/







YES. But have well thought out reasons, and some doubts about             available information.


Collision between death of print media/mainstream media/and             alternative media.



Will slosh about between both sides on the most alarmingly             fickle of issues. My cousins dog once got looked at by a YES-head,             well you see…BIZARRE parochial self interest. Pensions, TAX,             etc.            



NO. But have well thought out reasons, and some doubts about             available information.


Collision between death of print media/mainstream media/and             alternative media.



Labour Socialists,             tribal hatred, SNP outers, pet food salesmen, Will have Union jack             and Lest we forget R.I.P In Peace, nostalgia for the good old days             stuff. See also Rangers fans. Grandad was cannon fodder etc.


wants FPTP elections in             Scottish parliament.            




Fucking twats.

Good times are being had, all last week, but now it’s getting to that difficult half way stage. A week in, a week to go. I have to admit that by Friday and Saturday I had kind of lost track of the days, in a good way. I’ve been spending most days twatting about with the kids, and for the sake of my memory noting stuff on a Google docs thing, as well as piling on the best of the photo’s onto face book. why not? well fuck it.

Tonight the wife appeared after spending the week at woodside HQ so I’m not able to potter about in the bedroom, with the light on etc, so I’m hogging my mums laptop. she has 60 notifications of face book, I don’t think she really keeps up with that pish. No wonder, it’s mainly pointless rubbish.

I started reading a Wings over Scotland article, and it seemed so far removed from my head space. a tedious spat with those common space twat’s. I managed to get through it but was left with a feeling of deep dis-interest and went back to my digital copy of way station by my old favorite Clifford D ( for dangerous) Simak. With the screen light turned down low and the wi-fi off to conserve precious battery power. lean and mean. you get me steve?

My point is this at the moment: 2015 -ish. stasis. Not guid enough, and we don’t really have an excuse now that Craig is back from the island. Last gig was here-


markedby simply a video, unusual for me to pass comment on here, I wish I had done because I remember very little of the night, apart from negative boring domestic stuff. I seriously can’t for the life of me properly remember who we were supporting, ah yes, I recall- it was the magical expanding line-up gig, growing like a dull ache of cancer of the elbow. It was okay. We are never good in places where it goes beyond playing with a PA and amps, it always sounds so WRONG.

and creativity on band camp also ground to a halt soon after, although i did have a heap of mad keyboard loops cooking up under goat sector on sound cloud but I think I may have deleted them, obviously they are still lurking on an SD card in the Zoomer 8 track but it’s all kind of a mess, half ideas, some interesting stuff but not moving along at any pace.

So I’ve been writing words for songs on my tablet. Loads of them. I decided it was all shite and deleted them. That’s all part of the creative process. I still quite like that international digger driver day song me and Craig collaborated on. Like the angle of that, odd but sensible.

Highlight image of the week so far is this, really chuffed with it. Isla walking in the eerie pre storm light up towards the greens. ( might google map that and see how it’s meant to be spelled, it just looks wrong man)

Inserts image of Isla walking along the sharny sunlit road, Black dog walloping about behind, so black he is a blob, bending light and energy as it hits him, black dog, black hole, a-hole squirting molten fresh dog poop.

Rakes for the edited version:

Oh here it is. Very dark skies indeed. As somebody said on Facebook, “follow the yellow brick Road”………
The second week: some images:

  • Black metal black and white with flash in the woods
  • Loads of really cool skies, there seems to more sky here, and very interesting and cool clouds
  • Bones galore
  • Rain, rain and more rain. 

Sunday. Bit mochy. 

Mochy? Moochy? Its misty and foggy as hell out here. Plus I left the kids jackets at home. Not that it really matters, they hardly ever wear them anyhow, layers come off regardless. Holiday min, what a laugh. Im planning trying to score them some nice light weight jackets from that Harbro country store place in Huntly the morrow, with any luck. If I can be hooped. Its all very relaxed man. Pfft.

Tootered up the bumpy road in the mist in the morning. Low visibilty due to the murky mist. Seen a ewe and two lambs, gone AWOL from somewhere nearby and roaming free in the park. Isla shouted introductions and her and Mckenzie did some waving, but the sheep trio just stared. Stared back hard.


Etc. It will probably get even more exciting later on. Im planning on having a third shite, possibly outside if time permits and after that i might read the daily mail on my tablet.


It did continue on the foggy side, all day!

That’s it like I’m typing away at some other pish just now.



After much fiddling about re-setting passwords and such I’ve managed to set up a twittery-twat-tweet page on the Twitter for my doodles, arty farty stuff. It was a real struggle on my phone, proved more vexing on the big phone, eventually I meant decent progress on the hulking Russian Oligarch Desk top. So, I’ll probably Tweet you Twats occasionally. My other twitter is more used for incoherent abuse, nonsense shit posting and misc. garbage. Free to hit me up on that platform, I probably will follow you or something, like a beast stalking nippers. I jest, obviously- no malice intended. Yet.

me handle thing is @divit_eff

I think. Fuck knows, I might have called it something else.



Insure the DOG.

I have a complex and brilliantly efficient filing system for all my important paperwork (payslips, Council Tax, other shite, mainly shite, just fucking loads of bits of paper, often with post it notes stuck to them, shyte.  ) I just pile it up, move it around, get it mixed up with other stuff of different vintage. It’s absolutely fool proof. I got a post card the other day warning that the temporary pet insurance I’d taken out for the dog was running out in a few days time, so i filed it carefully, then mixed it up with some drawings and moved it somewhere slightly less easy to find.

  • bloody great min.
  • just the usual.

I did eventually find the fucking stupid thing. None the wiser. I scrabbled about for another bit of paper, AHA. I’d written key facts about that, the dogs NAME, that he was a DOG, his weight, and a long reference number. Deeply impressed with myself I launched on to the PETPLAN website and started looking for some way to extend and up date the cover. Eventually after much swearing, I managed to call up a form that would search for details using a reference number and a postcode. The reference number was no use. I had vague recollections of getting a letter, but after more rummaging I couldn’t find that.

Christ this is boring, really boring. Mundane pishe. Not magnolia pishe.