A Year On

It didn't feel quite right knowing this date was coming up and not preparing something for it. I was thinking some kind of dance with scarves but I think I pulled a muscle in my leg the other day and my scarf action has taken a big hit. So this blog post will have to do.

So what have I learned...

I dunno. Death is shite? I suppose it feels odd that already it's been a year since Stuart left us, with it still so present in our minds. I'm sure it's the same for all who knew him but not a day goes by he doesn't cross my mind. And luckily it's normally never the sad times at the end I think about, it's seeing him around town or going out with him to the cinema where he'd give me a big old bear hug and we'd lovingly take the piss out of each other all night. I remember his big booming voice and his pig shrieks and all kinds of miscellaneous bollocks he'd spout throughout a moment spent in his company. It was just such a joy to hang out with him and it can be such a rare thing to know you're going to just be able to relax and have fun and laugh yourself sore around someone - and when that goes missing from your life, it can really fucking suck.

Stuart's passing was a lot of very new feelings for me. I'd never really experienced death before and I think for a lot of people it becomes an extremely reflective, analytical process. When Stuart died and for the year that followed, I started rewinding in my head to all these different things. Messages we sent each other on Facebook years ago - was I being an asshole to him? That time I said no when he asked if I wanted to go to the cinema. The last time I saw him up and about and healthy - should I have stayed out later to hang out with him more? The last time I saw him before he died - did I say everything I should have and make it clear to him how much he means to me?

It's ridiculous really.

Of course, a lot of the time you don't know these final moment will be your final moments with someone. If I'd known the last time I'd see Stuart was going to be the last time, perhaps we'd have done something more meaningful than sitting eating brownies in the hospice watching The Jeremy Kyle show. But in a way, I do like that that was our last meeting. Seems more fitting.

I think about his funeral a lot, and how much of a mishmash of emotions it was. I didn't cry when I got the news about his death, I was just sort of numb, I guess. But I knew being at the funeral was going to be something else entirely. Similarly with the diagnosis, it wasn't till I saw him in the hospice that it actually became all too real and I had a bit of a weep in the corridor. And then at the funeral when they brought Stuart's coffin down, I was done for. And then like any funeral - like any life, I suppose - the rest of the day was this weird new blend of sad and happy.

Sappy.

Yeah...

The weather was incredible and I sat in the garden with my best friends and some people I hadn't seen in years and some people I'd just met that day and we all just chatted. Sometimes about Stuart, sometimes just about what we were up to in life. And as nice as that was and as sorely needed after the events we'd all gone through, you did look around the room and just feel that someone was missing. All these people, it just felt a bit wrong without him. He should have been there.

Not at his funeral obviously, I'm sure he probably would have found that a bit unsettling.

The year that followed after that has been an odd one. The event itself made me rekindle a lot of closeness with some of my friends that just hadn't been there since we'd all scattered around after the end of high school. Having said that, it's very easy to feel quite lonely about stuff like this. Like you want to talk to somebody about it but you don't know if they want to even think about it at this stage. People I'd ordinarily go to with problems were dealing with grief in their own way, it's been quite a difficult time to navigate. But in the bigger picture, Stuart's death taught me a lot about not leaving things unsaid and just making it clear to the people in your life that they mean something to you while you still can. One of the last conversations I had with Stuart was about creativity and projects and how he wished he'd done more with his ideas while he was healthy. It struck home quite a bit for me, being someone who often doesn't "get on with it". Throughout the time I've known Stuart he's been inspirational and supportive to me. If I ever came to him with a film idea he'd want to help out immediately, even if it was just a crappy little Doctor Who parody we'd film in a quarry. He would read scripts I'd send him and always want be involved in anything we'd do. So it seemed right that he'd inspire me after he passed away. I think from here on out I just want to work in a way that Stuart would be proud of. It doesn't feel right me sitting on my arse doing nothing when someone like Stuart gets his opportunities taken away from him.

The other side of the analytical process after a death is... well, where the heck is Stuart now? It becomes quite obvious why people believe in the afterlife. It's so much more comforting to imagine Stuart has moved on to some other astral plane and is sipping a beer somewhere in luxury. And nothing makes me happier than the idea that maybe one day I'll get to see him again. That mental image has brought me a smile or two over this year. But regardless of what I believe in, I still have his funeral card on my drawer in my bedroom with his big cheesing mug on the front and now and again I nod at it and say "awrite" like a right basket case. I guess I like to think that maybe somewhere, somehow he can hear it.

Sometimes I think I can hear a hideous pig shriek on the wind...

...but that might just be 'cos I live near Sighthill.

Stuart, ya lanky shite. It still doesn't feel real that you're gone. If you are in heaven you must have pretty good wifi so let's hope you can see these words... We all miss you down here. It's not the same without you. I'm gonna crack open my Jack Daniels and have a drink for you. In memory of you. In celebration of you. But also just 'cos I like Jack Daniels. I may even dust off the old Macbeth DVD.

...maybe.

Miss ya, Stu.

p.s. I do wish that our last photo together on our 'See Friendship' page I looked a bit more cheery... DAMN THOSE CHIQUITOS.

Stuart

I've been trying all day to find suitable words for this. I don't even know where to start. The past few weeks has been one of the most bizarre, scary and mad times I think a lot of us have experienced. This whole thing feels so completely and utterly surreal that to talk about this now feels, I dunno, wrong.

Anyway, let me just start by echoing the thoughts of the waves of support I've seen on Facebook, and say that all my love goes out to Stuart's friends and family. This was the first time I'd met a lot of Stuart's loved ones and the strength and support they showed not just Stuart, but everyone that came to visit him and all the guests that attended his wedding, was nothing short of inspirational. I can't even begin to imagine what they're going through right now but I think one of the things they can be proud of is how they and Stuart brought so many people together. There are so many people looking out for each other, who will help each other through this, which is absolutely a testament to who Stuart was and the ones closest to him.

It's remarkable looking at some of the messages on Facebook from people I've never met, from places I've never been, that seem to be wording my exact thoughts and experiences of this guy who we all loved. I think it confirms what we all knew, that Stuart was one of the most genuine, warm people you could ever hope to meet. Within the first minute of the first time I met him, he had me in a fit of hysterical laughter that I didn't recover from for at least half an hour. He became part of my life and part of my family. Whenever he would come round to our house, everyone would be so happy. I just couldn't wait to be around him. That's the kind of person he was. And he would make an impact on everyone. There's family members I've spoken to in the past few weeks who might have met Stuart once at a party a few years ago, and the second you say his name they remember him vividly. Because that's who he was. He really, properly cared about other people. Sometimes too much. I was lucky enough to be able to spend time with him in the hospice in the past weeks and the concern he showed for his friends who wanted to visit him was staggering. He was still putting other people's feelings before his own, like he always has.

I really started getting to know Stuart when we did a play together in high school. I learned a lot about him during that time. It seemed like he had a lot of self doubt and that he wasn't quite aware of his own capabilities, even when everybody was telling him how great he was. I also learned just how bright and creative he was. He had an amazing professionalism about him but would also be responsible for everybody enjoying it as much as we did. Everybody was just so happy to be around him, and I think that's what I'm really going to miss. It just so happened that only a week or so before I heard the initial diagnosis, I found some old video clips I never did anything with. They show some of the memories I hold with most fondness. Days where everybody would just sit doing nothing and enjoy each other's company. Simpler days. Certainly never saw this coming. Here are some of those videos, along with some other bits and pieces of the friendship I had with this wonderful guy.

Again, let me just say to Stu's friends and family and his wife Isla, the bravery and strength you've shown us all over the past month is something I'm positive Stuart was eternally proud of. The wedding day was one of the most happy occasions I've ever had the privilege of being a part of. The expression on Stuart's face when everybody came in the room was something I'll never forget.

None of this feels real yet, and I'm not sure I ever want it to. I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that you're gone and I won't be able to laugh with you again, or speak in New-York-ish accents to ducks again, or take part in a flailing awkward hug again. And that just makes me so damn sad. I learned a lot from you. You taught me to be open and bold and happy, even if you weren't aware you were doing it. And I could never thank you enough for that. I'm gonna try my best to live my life as happily as you made everyone feel just by being you. I just know that it's not gonna be nearly as fun without you.

I'm really gonna miss you, Stu.

Off-Peak Single

It's nature or science or something that when a boy sees a pretty girl his heart is like FUCK. Nature and science are both extra potent when you're single.

I had an hour to kill before my train back home, so I decided to take a stroll around Edinburgh Waverley. As I passed the window of Cafe Nero, a beautiful girl smiled out at me from her seat, her fingers wrapped around a mug of funny looking tea.

My heart went FUCK. My brain went YOU'VE GOT AN HOUR TO KILL GO IN AND GET A DRINK MAYBE SHE'LL MARRY YOU IF YOU GET A FRAPPE CREME. But I'd already walked past the window, and the door to the cafe was long gone; that was ancient history, that ship had sailed. How could I execute a flawless turnaround without looking like a damned fool? But life threw me a spongy orange safety ring - you know, those ones you get on boats? A cash machine lay just up ahead! Not one to ignore a sign from Satan, like a flash, I waddled to the cashhole and stuffed my card into its slippery goodness, just like a real person would do. Acting casual, like I was just your ordinary run of the mill card handler, I checked my balance, using all my residual acting talent to fake an interested expression. Things took a turn when I accidentally hit withdraw - Mary Mother of God this wasn't part of the plan. Had I blown my cover? I could feel the people around me stop in their tracks. One particular old woman raised her pointed finger at me and let forth a hideous alien shriek. But I cancelled the transaction and the world was set right again. Seamless, motherfucker. Now that everybody thought I had come this way just to check my balance, I could turn back and get to what, as far as they knew, had been my plan all along. I hoofed the door to Cafe Nero open - it flew off its hinges and shattered into sparkling shards against the sandwich cabinet. I took the slab of Tarmac out my bag that I always keep on my person for situations such as this, slamming it down on the counter.

"A pint of tea please," I bellowed, "and one for the road." Pretty-Girl, who will henceforth be referred to as PG dropped her tea in sheer amazement. In one fluid motion she was out her chair and on me like a fly on Sam Smith's debut album.

Except that bit was a daydream. In reality, I quickly parked myself at the end of the queue and observed the menu board above. How the fuck was I supposed to play this one? I longingly eyed up the frappe milkshake board. Some of them had whipped cream and chocolate flakes and sprinkles. They were like a party in a cup. One of those parties where you all inhale helium and put a hat on a dog. But not a sophisticated drink. "Mum, how did you meet Dad?" "Well, I saw him trying to use a coffee stirrer to get the whipped cream from his Grande Frappe out the gap in his teeth." It just doesn't happen. I gotta think outside the box here. The Rabbis in front of me had already finished their order. Fuck, I was up to bat.

"What can I get you?"

"Tea, please!" Playing it safe.

"English Breakfast?"

"Pardon?"

"Do you want English Breakfast?"

"No, just the tea, thanks."

"Yeah, what type?"

"What types are there?"

"Uhh... English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Green Tea, Chai Tea..."

"English Breakfast, please."

"Milk on the side?"

"Um..."

She looked at me with the kind of look you give a cat that's just shat out a mouse.

"Yes."

Seamless, you shit. Across from PG was a little single table with a chair facing her direction. I parked myself there with my tray, upon which was my tea and all the other bullshit they give you to make you do all the work. PG had her earphones in, still clutching her tea like I wish she would me. While she was distracted with her music, I got to work on that fucking tea procedure bullshit all you cunts go through every day. Adding the milk while pressing the bag while stirring in the sugar like a fucking octopus radio DJ. Just as I finished, PG looked up and threw me a small smile. OW FUCK. JESUS. Take a sip of the tea, Joe. Do it for the grandkids.

*sip*

Now that my oesophagus was peeling away from itself in chunks, I had time to reflect. In a hurtling wave of realisation, I remembered why I didn't drink tea anymore. It's fucking rank. Unless you're in the right mood. Unless it's brewed just how you like. Maybe my tastebuds are just late bloomers, but unless I ensure the ratio of tea:sugar is a decent 30:70, tea pretty much makes me want to wretch. But luckily I remembered: girls hate that! I held everything down until the tea sludge had slithered to a rest in my stomach. I took another sip, and another, and another. My mug was nearly empty. My body was struggling to take anymore of this Guantanamo-worthy torture porn. I risked a glance at PG to see what she thought about my sacrifice. Something was wrong. She frowned down at her phone. The announcer woman said something about a train leaving in ten minutes. PG had heard enough. She whisked all her belongings up and was out the door. As she breezed past me in a flurry of butterflies and perfume, I heard the dying screams of our never-were children and grandchildren as their very existence was being torn from them and the world around them that never existed faded to dust.

Anyway, this is why I'm single.

Jurassic Classics

I've never done a movie review on my blog. I've mentioned movies A LOT but never reviewed any. So fuck it, ya know?

I went to see Jurassic World, and I absolutely loved it. Which is odd because I sort of went into it expecting to be disappointed. It's far from being a perfect movie: the characters are cliche, the writing is awkward and all in all it's basically your average summer blockbuster. I'm certain that if this was unattached to the Jurassic Park franchise, it would be swept under the carpet. But like it or not, it is a new Jurassic Park film.

I don't think I quite realised until I began hearing rumours about the new movie, just how big an impression Jurassic Park left on me as a child. For as long as I can remember, every Sunday we would go to my Granny's house for breakfast. After we'd eaten, the grown ups would usually get into long, deep conversations which were painfully dull to a child with as short an attention span as I had. I would always end up routing through my Granny's DVD collection and one day found Jurassic Park. The rest is your fairly typical Jurassic Park fan story: my jaw hung open when you first see the Brachiosaurus and it didn't really close again until the credits rolled. Like seemingly every child who sees Jurassic Park, I became obsessed with dinosaurs. Then every Sunday breakfast I would demand to watch Jurassic Park again and again and again. In a way, it's sort of the perfect movie. Gorgeous to look at, a great story, a great message, a phenomenal cast. It's full of iconic moments and music. Not only all of that, but it totally and completely sent a thunderous ripple through the plastic water cup of cinema. Jurassic Park was also the first time I ever found an interest in how a movie was made: the DVD was packed with behind the scenes features about the effects, the puppets, the music and everything necessary to make dinosaurs come to life.

That's not the exact documentary but it was that footage and it blew my tiny mind. I totally believe that Jurassic Park was what sparked my passion for movies and television. This does however mean that sometimes it's hard for me to just watch a movie; I can't see it as a story, but as all the components that go into making it. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing, it's just another way of appreciating a work of art. Like most memories, the most powerful thing I link to movies is the feelings I get from watching them for the first time. When I watch Jurassic Park, I get goosebumps - every time! - when the T-rex steps out it's paddock and roars. It's those feelings that I think make movies stand the test of time.

The long winded point I'm trying to make is that when I watched Jurassic World, for the first time in a while, I forgot I was watching a movie and I was back to sitting in my Granny's living room, excitement bubbling out every pore of my body. IT'S FUCKING JURASSIC PARK, MAN. That's what I'm trying to say. Sometimes a movie comes along where you have to forgive its flaws and just accept it and love it because it means something to you, and Jurassic World is most certainly that. I could write a long post about how it didn't come close to capturing the magic of the original, which it obviously didn't, but I'm not going to. Because I can't. I'm too happy with the movie. It was just what I wanted. I was ready to punch the air when T-Rex and the raptor (Blue?) double-teamed Indominus Rex. Even when there were unbelieveable, nature-defying moments, I just lovingly rolled my eyes like when you watch your drunk friend vomits up chicken nuggets on a night out. If I had to pick the worst problem with it, it would be a problem that isn't specific to Jurassic Park, but to all CGI-heavy modern movies. There's something about the CGI things move on screen that isn't realistic. That may sound stupid, especially in a movie about dinosaurs, but it's almost like the physical movements are exaggerated, like in a cartoon. I spent a lot of time looking at the screen thinking "it wouldn't move like that". I'm sure they did a lot of research, but something was off. I thought at first that it was just because we don't know how dinosaurs would exactly move, but at the very start of the film there is a close up of a bird and it's very obviously CGI. I also came to the conclusion that we're just still in an age where we haven't fully blurred the lines between computer generated effects and practical. However in recent movies that seems mostly down to the movements. I was trying to wrack my brains for an example of CGI that I think is animated perfectly and seems the most realistically. I couldn't think of anything, until it hit me. It had been in front of my nose the whole time!

One of the most perfect CGI moments in cinema history, right here in our very own Jurassic Park. I think it was down a lot of things, like Phil Tippett being the effects supervisor who was practised in the intricacies of stop-motion and was able to transfer all those subtle movements into the 3D models. I read somewhere in a thread asking why older CGI like this looks more believable that modern films. The explanation was that CGI was more of a luxury back then because it was new and required specialists and a whole team to get right. Today CGI is more accessible and can be made quicker and with fewer people. With films like Jurassic Park, it was worked on so hard that it had to be perfect - and it bloody was. That was the explanation as I remember it, anyway. It may not be accurate, but hey, it's the internet.

The thing that also hit me deep was leaving the cinema after seeing Jurassic World. I quickly nipped to the bathroom to take care of the inevitable result of my oversized Diet Coke. As I was leaving, a group of wee boys - maybe 9 or 10 years old - were walking in front of me. They'd clearly just been in the same showing of Jurassic World as I was, and were in deep, excited argument about the finale three-way fight. They were talking about their favourite dinosaurs and roaring and stampeding around and I just watched and smiled to myself. Maybe Jurassic World will be to them what Jurassic Park was to me. Perhaps 20 years down the line, a film will be released (maybe even a new Jurassic Park (maybe I'll even be the one making it... (that would be sweet))) that will remind them of being 10 years old, sitting in the cinema watching a tyrannosaurus rex and a velociraptor fight an Indominus Rex.

Stranger things have happened, right kids?

Things To Do In A Heatwave

As a race of typically pale, heavy set individuals, when Scottish people get any hint of sunlight we tend to go a bit mental. I've witnessed local people don a sunhat and a fine pair of khaki shorts the second the temperature peaks above zero and slap themselves down onto a beach towel underneath the grizzly grey clouds. We take what we can get, I suppose. But what we're experiencing at the moment is more than a hint, more than decent weather, more than "ooh, it's fairly mild today" whatever that means. This is a full on fuck-off heatwave. The beaches are packed, the usually black sea is a sexy, tropical turquoise, even the high street is full to the brim of happy people shifting uneasily in the sunlight. We don't really know what it feels like, you see. It's like trying on a new pair of jeans. We can't understand how sunlight can come from above without being cold and a liquid. As always there is the initial few days of sheer chaos and confusion as people wonder what the hell we did right to deserve this gift. It's in this period where I go through such things as coming out my heavily air-conditioned workplace into what is supposed to be the chilly Scottish night and wondering at what point I accidentally boarded a plane to fucking Portugal. I really shouldn't complain, because the weather is gorgeous when you're out about, frolicking with your loved ones. The times when it's more of a curse are times like now, when I'm typing these very words as fast as I can before my laptop becomes a liquid. The heat is filling the room like a just-cooked custard. Whenever I make to stand up, my body becomes like a plastic bag someone has filled with old gravy. As soon as the very thought of moving in some way or another, my body just sinks further and I slowly become more integrated with the couch. I am now 67% sofa. I am now on sale at DFS.

People react to this weather in different ways. The majority of people just want to be outside in some form, whether it's rolling around in the sand of the beaches, or having a barbeque with your friends, or just standing outside licking a lamppost to taste to heat. But with our brains subjected to temperatures unnatural for us, it's easy for our circuits to get a little fried.

Eventually, it comes to a point when the heat gets too much for people and we start complaining. Everything is sticky, there's fungus growing in your eyelids and your living room has its own ecosystem. You just try to make do until it passes and normality is returned. This blog is intended for that latter end of the summer when everything is too perfect to be enjoyable and you're at your wits end. Here's some things to keep you busy and to make the best of the situation. Here's some fun things, YOU can do at home with your very own summer heat wave.

First of all, why not fry an egg on your face?

The food will give you sustenance and with all that heat coursing through your body, you might as well channel it into cooking something delicious for your friends. With this trendy egg on your face, you'll be the talk of summer while looking undeniably fetch. Gretchen, stop trying to make fetch happen.

Bored AND lonely this summer? Why not make another you with all your skin peelings?

Summer sure can drag on if you're as lonely as I am. But who needs friends with this handy, Fully Qualified Cyber-Nerd approved technique? Simply shed your peeling sunburn into a brand new you. You'll have endless fun playing with yourself. Playing with yourself all fucking night long.

As if that wasn't good enough, with all this heat you can now pretend you're in a foreign country where bull fighting isn't just not frowned upon - IT'S MANDATORY!

**DISCLAIMER: Despite the lack of a bull, a tortoise is not a suitable replacement.

Finally, if all those things still haven't done it for you, and you just don't know what to do with all this heat, why not make a sacrifice to Helios - God of the Sun? He always loves a chat and a dead lamb.

Maybe with enough sacrificial blood squirted in the right direction, we can get back to a steady temperature and I can sleep better. If you're into that kind of thing, however. Maybe you just wanna have a Calippo and ride this heatwave like a brain damaged cowboy. This might be the only summer we get this year and before we know it, everything will be back to the way it's supposed to be.