What a mixed weekend. In summary:
Diving = Good
Camping = Bad

Anyway, the diving was superb. We (being me and a couple of diving clubs from all over aberdeenshire) were camped out on Mill SHore, which is a bay that sits between Cullykhan and Pennan. Decent weather, except on Sunday where is pissed it down. Not fun.

Anyway, on Friday I dived the shore at low tide with a Norwegian named Nina (Nice girl. Complimented me on my diving skill). Whilst there was not too much to see (as we were diving at dusk), there were some things of note, such as a tiny ikle little place about 2cms long and perfectly camoflaged on the sand (was blind luck that I saw it) or the little shore crabs that liked to bury themselves in the sea bed. Some big pollack decided to turn up later as we were leaving. The cause of this was revealed to be a couple of dolphins that had come into the bay the moment we had gone under, but obviously they had steered clear of Nina and myself. Obviously, were were a little gutted. To console myself, I made the 20 minute scramble over the low-tide rocks to Pennan, the the hope of getting a bit of nightlife that the tourist board would have you believe is omnipresent throughout all Scotland, the remote parts (like Pennan) in particular. Imagine my suprise (well, apathetic sigh) as I entered the Pennan inn to be greeted not by a furious maelstrom of celtic musicans and red haired dancing women, but a man in the corner. With his dog. And the pub closing. At half ten. Bugger.

Saturday morning saw the tide right out into the bay, and as such was a bit too shallow to make a worthwhile dive. I left for a perticularly stressful day at the aquarium, returning in the evening for a dive. This one took me 7m down, through some good rocky cliffs that were littered with Dead Man's Fingers (a type of coral) and a tiny crag filled to the brim with squat lobsters. The dive ended with a short jaunt about the kelp reef where I saw another of these blue Lion's Mane jellyfish (this is a local oddity - the Lion's mane should be an orange colour) that seem to litter the Moray Firth. Thankfully nothing got stung.

By Saturday night the beach was packed with tents, mostly erected by Aberdeen University students. I entered the raffle that was put on by some diving shop or another, and came away with a new mask. A new pink mask. Pink. Let me once again emphasis the fact that the colour of the mask was indeed Pink. (Pink is shit. Official.) A massive bonfire constructed of old fenceposts was soon set ablaze, but mercifully no-one proffered a guitar and began to sing folk songs. I massacred some marshmallows then went to bed, but only after experienceing the heart wrenching terror that is trying to piss in a pitch black portaloo.

Sunday brought my first boat dive. Chris and I stowed away on a RIB (Rigid-hulled Inflatable Boat), and did the 15m dive down to the wreck of a ship of which the name escapes me. Begins with a "P". It was really just a pile of girders with one huge boiler left over. I then proceede with my first really big ascent, which has to be the most terrifying thing about diving, as you have to keep dumping air from your dry suit to stop the ait from expending in the suit and sending you careering upwards to the surface and one big Bend. But it came off without a hitch, and on the way back to shore I saw some Puffins and Gannets. Which was nice.

Today I dived with Carla at Macduff. There's a really big cave just meters into the rock shore with coral, baby Cod, huge crabs and an even bigger lobster. It's also a lot deeper than most people would expect. So there you are.


A not to people unfamiliar with diving: It is a very pysically labourious activity.

I ache all over.

Even writing this is giving me a heamorrage.

ow.

Today I killed a Sparrow.

I was undertaking a driving lesson in the Skenemobile, in which I was egged on by Mr. Skene to proceed along the road to Turriff at the highest legal speeds. I was about halfway to Aberchirder when a Sparrow made the quite fatallt foolhardy decision to fly out in front of the car. I can only hope that its collision upon my side of the windscreen killed it instantly. I don't like the image of it writhing in agony for hours as it tries to cope with its newly and partially liquefied insides. The Darwinian in me tells me it's just natural selection, that a bird that stupid has to die so it's stupid genes are never passed on. But, inadvertantly or not, I have taken a life. Sigh.

Went to work at the Aquarium, to be greeted by some squid gutting, followed later by my participation in what has to be the least succsessful General Feed ever. It went as such: Jillan (nice, pleasant girl from Turriff) begins the display by accidently knocking the feed dish into the tank. This floods the dish, but does not cause the loss of all the food. It does make the fish in the tank go apeshit, and generally puts Jillian off kilter for the rest of the feed. I take over, barley managing to keep my voice level above the gathered throung of Buckie High School students, who then all leave the aquarium after the fist tank has been fed, leaving about 6 or so members of the general public. I feed the next couple of tanks to allow Jillian to regain compusure, after which point she resumes feeding and talking, albeit with a very red face that she cannot lose. She then went behind the scenes to feed the "Sub-Literal" tank (I assume it contains metaphors and ambiguites), leaving me to tell the visiors about what is going on. Now Murphy's law goes plain weird. I can only assume that barometric pressure were playing havok with my capillaries, because for no apparent reason whatsoever, my nose began to bleed profusley. I excused myself as politley as I could leaving poor Jillian in the lurch somewhat. Her conversation with the public, I am told, went something like this:

Jillian: "Where did Andew go?"
Joe Public: "He had a nosebleed"
Jillian: "What, someone had a nosebleed?"
Joe Public: "No, his own."
Jillian: "?"

Bleed averted, I joined Jillian at the toutchpools. Jillan pointed out some of the new baby crabs that had been bought in recently. Later, some little kid was pointing at the floor. We looked. A very small baby crab was scuttling about on the floor. So we ended the Feed with a kamikazi crab. I wanted sushi.

Home again, and calamari was on the table for dinner. I had gutted squid earlier. Do the maths.

I won't be in this weekend as I'm off caming at Mill Shore, near Pennan as part of a big Aberdeenshire SCUBA diving jamboree type thing. Should be fin. Sorry, fun.

Have a good one youself, and Have a better day tomorrow than I had today.

Well the computer survived the reformat swimmingly. I now have a nice, fast and virginal computer again! YAY!

Not been doing much the last few weeks. I really should get a job between now that the time the grain job starts up, but I'm just too apethetic at the moment. It's really rather sad. I may well resume barrowing loads of topsoil around the garden to the accompanyment of Ska blaring out the stereo in the greenhouse.

We now have a polytunnel. It's construction was quite hilarious due to the amount of bickering and obvious lack of logic being employed by those building it. (I exempt myself from that, but then I would probably exempt myself from a lot of things in life, the pompous git that I am). Anyway, the polytunnel is not exactly a joy to behold, and rather a shame considering all the kinds of exotic and beautiful plants that could be grown inside it but won't be. Instead, it will be used for vegetables. What's the point?

Anyway, the above point (or lack thereof) it moot, as i'll be long gone before anything has really gorwn there. I'm more concerned with my own carnivorous plands which I'll be forced to leave behind in the greenhouse when i leave. I do not trust anyone here to take care of them properly. Which means that my years-long investment in cultiviating and reproducing them will have gone completely to waste. That will certainly annoy me hugely when that happens. ah well...

I am perhaps vindicated in my decision not to attend the school prom which took place last Friday. Everyone I speak to about it says it was a bit pants. I'm sure this was not so much to do with my absense as it was with the venue's strict control of the alcohol flow. About time someplace in this area did. Most of the pubs don't care two hoots who they sell their wares to, as long as they pay. I also here that a cerain Mr. Sherrington still managed to get plastered and by the end of the nigh was bogeling Black Sabbath songs over the band's microphone. THAT'S something I'm glas I wasn't there to see...

Interesting fact you never knew about me:
To stop myself from going utterly insane, I listen to the song "weightless again" at least once every day.

Bye then.

There is a road around here which seems to be killing peopl at an alarmingly regular pace. Every year there are 2-3 fatal car crashes on that road, and every year the local papers print more pictures of ghastly car wreckages. I'm seriously entertaining the possibility that the road is cursed, or that it lies across some leyline that's carrying some seriously bad mojo. There is also the possibility that the victims were all taught by Skene.

That was in poor taste. Plus Skene is a fine instructor. I dunno why I've been fixated with that particular piece of news, it just seems to compel me in the most dark ways.

Today at the aquarium was... Interesting. My day began with two busloads of Brownies and Crinkleys (tee hee), before progressing to office politics between the Dive Team and thier out-of-tank compartiots. Being a neutral volunteer, I was mercifully spared the conflict or forced to take sides. However, sqabbles were later put aside due to a medical emergency, whic hwas well handled by all, but superbly so by Barbra. Her already fairly good standing in my estimations has shot up by several gazillion points after her selfless alturisim today. Needless to day, ther world is a better place for people like Barbra.

My brothers are away to Greenock this weekend due to some scout thingmiebob, tha the house is massivly peaceful and stress-free. If what I feel now is any indication of the liberation of Uni, then by god, I'm going to love it.

Tomorrow I'm going to reformat the computer, so if I should fail to back some crucial driver and the machine goes kaput, you will be able to guess why I'm not posting anymore.

Also, inside information for life: When sprey-painting, use a bin liner or similar polythene sheet in the place of newspaper for masking purposes. you can leave the painted object on it for as long as you like without fear ripped paper cementing itself to your otherwise fine paint job.
ADDENDUM:
Just found out that The Handosome Family (the best band in existance) are touring the UK again in November, Must book tickets.

Over the past few months, one name above all else has been a constant source of irritation. The name? Prince William.
In EVERY conversation I have with aquaintances (Not friends. I talk about meaningful things with them), the topic of conversation comes quickly round to which university I am going to in September. This university is St. Andrews.

The person I am talking to will then invariably say something along the following lines: "Oh, well! You'll be down there with Prince William then!"
EVERY SINGLE PERSON.

It's vaugely original for the first 10 times you hear it, but from then on it's just plain depressing to realise that Prince William is the only thing that crosses people's minds when the name "St. Andrews" is mentions. Couple this with my devout disdain for the royal family and you can guess the recepie for disaster that follows.

So, in conclusion, if you barely know me, and wish to stike up a conversation with me, DON'T.
I am at the point where I am now making no attempt to disguise a very tired grimace.


In other news, at the time of writing, I have now gone 27 hours without sleep. Fun.

And today's subject of hate is: The DSA's ridiculous hazard perception test. A bit af a small niggle here, as they never make it clear enough as to what you should be clicking at, or if you should just click generally. Can't have been that bad, though, as I passed that section.

I failed the multiple choice by 2 marks. 2 MARKS!

Anyway, I have discovered that the Matrix Reloaded gets better with a repeated viewing. There's just so much to take in in one sitting. Still don't like Agent Smith though, or the first 20 minutes. And also, what happened to Tank? He survives to the end of the first film, but is said to be dead (or at least missing) by his sister ("I lost two brothers to that ship"). Holy inconsistencies, Batman!

Another thing I've noticed is that everyone who enters Forbidden Planet (comic/sci-fi shop) becomes VERY quite and looks VERY embarrased to be there. Poor, poor people. Revel in your geekyness! Start loud conversations about you ideas for an Aquaman vs. The Catwoman crossover, Curl up in a corner and weep uncontrollably over the last episode of Buffy, quote copious amounts of gobbledegook concering obscure Tolkien novels or that new Anime theme sone you learned phonetically last week! But for God's sake, do SOMETHING! You're making it so dreary in there!

Going diving tonight with all my own stuff! Yays!
I am also, for reasons that are too long and demented to go into here, going to boil a Frilled Shark's head this afternoon.

And Finally: (UPDATE) After much consultation and meditiation, it can be confirmed that Yoko Kanno's soundtrack to Stand Alone Complex is indeed one of the best albums ever made. Huzzah!

Well, that was one weekend that I'm VERY glad is over.

On Saturday I awoke faily early, expecting my parents to actually deliver on thier oft-used phrase "we'll have to leave by 9". This has never been the case in any other instances in which the phrase has been used and I've no idea why I actually chose to believe it this time. The truth is that my parents have a terminal allergy to doing ANYTHING within a set time frame, causing them to be completely late for absolutly everything in thier lives, regardless of its importance.

Once actually IN Aberdeen (at around 1 in the afternoon), we bagan the long, painful and psychologically scarring process of clothes shopping with my parents. I hate clothes, ergo I hate clothes shopping; therefore my parents seek to drag the whole affair out for as long as is humanly possible (we're talking several hours here) whilst continually grabbing things off racks that THEY would like me to wear, seemingly oblivios to the fact that: 1. I am an independant entity that is capable of making his own decisisons outwith the bracket of their continual stuggle for familial power; 2. The item of clothing they are holding in thier hands is just one of many laboured over by some poor sod in Kuala Lumpur who works 20 hours a day in some damp-ridden concrete box and recieves about 20 pence as reward whilst the CEO of the coropration owning the said Malaysian factory is lighting his fifth Havanan cigar with a $100 bill, and; 3. The item of clothing looks like a unholy marriage of dog's dirt and Colgate. Oh yes, I had such fun then...

There were some great musical acts playing outside Marks and Spencer that day, Including a peruvian band who were playing some excellent Andean music. I got thier CD. Pretty damned good, it is.

At about 4:00pm we arrived at the County Hotel in Stonehaven in preparation for our (shudder) family renunion. I had a very stuffy room upstairs, that mercifully was all mine. That was untill I had to pick up my brother Stuart from the train in Stonehaven. The format of the reunion went as such:

Move into function suite, where a few relative you recognise mingle with ones that you have never seen before.
Attempt to converse with said "never seen before" relatives only to be met with ambivilent silences
Avoid very young relatives as they career about the place like speed addled retards chasing after a dumptruckfull of mars bars
Gather round to rituallistically stare at the ceiledh band as they set up
Cringe as your inebriate father cocks up all your well planned jokes as he tries to recount the speech he stupidly accepted to make a week ago knowing full well that HE had no intention to write anything after he comes to you to write it for him.
Pretend to like your newfound relatives
Pretend to like your familiar relatives
Pretend to like yourself for even agreeing to this
Learn that the Orcadian Strip the Willow is specifically designed to inflict Grievous Bodily Harm upon all those who participate in it.
And that Isolation is much more prefierable to family, despite their assurance to the contrary.

On Sunday I arrived back (eventually) to attend what I was told was World Oceans Day at the aquarium. It then transpired that ther person who had told me this had made a mistake and that it was actuallty NEXT Sunday that was world oceans day. This is a trifle annoying when you come to work dressed as a pirate, as I was told to dress for the occasion. Th guilty party was made to buy me an ice cream.

THis week I will accquire a BCD and some weights for my belt. I will then have my full SCUBA kit. Hopefully spending a good few hours under the surface will hep me forget the existance of family. I hope..

And fainally, Yoko Kanno's sountrack to Stand Alone Complex may well be one of the best albums EVER MADE.

Adieu.