Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible

I’ve been away, and even when I’ve been here, I’ve not been here. Although I’m here just now, I’m not actually here, and won’t be here again for a while. Stay tuned. Please.

The day today

It's not like me to be topical, but here's a few words about this evening's rehearsal, the first of the new term. The Christmas concert we work towards is in conjunction with a choir, so we never find out for ages what choral pieces we may have to accompany, or what cheesy festive tune we'll be doing for an encore. We do, however, get an idea of the pieces we will play on our own (the choir do unaccompanied pieces, too).

So far, we have Malcolm Arnold's wonderful but fiendishly difficult 'Four Scottish Dances',  some of the 'Nutcracker Suite' by Tchaikovsky (probably not the fruit and nutcase bit), the theme from 'The Big Country' and the first movement of Dvorak's Symphony No. 9 (i.e., not the Hovis bit). There may be more, there may be less. Who knows?

In other news, I returned home to hear that Scotland had drawn 1-1 with the mighty FYR Macedonia in their 'must-win' second qualifying game; disaster for Scotland, but hopefully the end of Craig Levein's short, boring and embarassing tenure as boss.

This was the yang to Andy Murray's Grand Slam ying. After what seemed like an eternity (and I don't mean the match), he finally won something; the US Open, although I wasn't able to stay up for the 5-hour roller-coaster ride I imagine it was. He's been British since he won the Gold at the Olympics, and this latest triumph cements his place in the hearts of those 50 million who didn't like him until his tearful speech after defeat to Federer at Wimbledon. He's British until he loses again.

Don't be sad it's over. Be glad it happened.

As the great summer of sport, and culture, comes to an end, I wonder what London will do for an encore. I wonder how people will feel when all the Olympic direction signs are peeled off walls in Underground stations, and the paint is burned off the roads in the Olympic lanes. I wonder what the streets will be like without volunteers handing out maps. I wonder how many busy London workers and residents, or tourists, will notice, or care. The flame which once burned brightly has been extinguished, and normality will be restored, in a matter of days for some, weeks or months for others. I know if I went back, I’d not notice unless I remembered to look. I wonder how many people will truly remember, long after the little hints of the games have gone, and long after BBC’s and Channel 4’s inevitable programmes over the Christmas holidays. The athletes, however, will never forget.

I’ve seen very little of the Paralympic Games, and a lot less of the (able-bodied) Olympics than normal. I grudged my taxes being diverted to a competition staged mainly in London, when money needed to be spent on sport in Scotland. I know that the same proportion won’t travel in the opposite direction for Glasgow’s Commonwealth Games in 2014, and I know that, mercifully, London politicians won’t be so quick to jump on the bandwagon to try to ingratiate themselves with competitors to impress the voting public. The nations of the UK compete separately, so Unionists will have a hard time trying to make capital of a Scot draped in the Union Flag. Scotland’s medal haul at the London games was itself sufficiently impressive to provoke debate, but we can’t be sure how Scotland will fare when pitted against its larger neighbour to the south, much less countries like Jamaica.

It remains to be seen if Glasgow can create such an aura around the Commonwealth Games that it will make fans of the sports involved forget about London, but that’s like comparing East Stirlingshire with Manchester City. Instead, Glasgow should look back ten years to the Manchester games. Not only did that event, won by the city after many attempts to net a major tournament of any kind, increase the profile of athletes who competed in London this time, and Athens and Beijing before that, but it sparked a phenomenal regeneration in a city that had left its glory days behind, last century but one. Manchester is, for the most part, now a vibrant, modern city capable of competing with London on any stage, though it’s not without its problems. Glasgow must shake off its other image; that of a city blighted by decades of corruption and lack of ambition. It must stop taking then squandering the money (and the perks for the Councillors) from the events such as the Champions League final, the UEFA Cup final, the Garden Festival, City of Culture, City of Architecture and Design and so on, and start building for the future.

Exactly 50 years after the last tram journey, the city is almost impossible to get around thanks, in no small part, to Glasgow City Council’s relationship with First Buses, who have an effective monopoly in a supposedly deregulated bus environment. The lack of a decent Underground system (and the farce over its upgrading, or not, for the Games) and suburban railway network, as well as the criminal under-use of the Clyde for business, residents, transport and tourism will be exposed again when the Games begin. A half-hour stroll from the National Theatre to Westminster Bridge two weeks ago made me wonder why Glasgow has, for over a generation, failed to regenerate its waterfront for the use of its people. Any Londoners visiting in 2014 will, no doubt, be wondering the same thing.

It’s not true to say that there are no more heroes anymore. Any one person interested in one or more sport couldn’t fail to be impressed or inspired by not just our athletes but also a great many of those from around the world. Everyone who managed to see in the flesh or on television any Olympic or Paralympic event in the last couple of months will have at least one good memory. For me, it’s Katherine Grainger finally winning Gold. Thousands of medals were won, records, and even hearts were broken, and somewhat ironically, for an event that took place in what is, at the moment, my own country, I never even got to see her dream eventually come true, as I was nowhere near a TV. It may prove to be easier with the time difference to be in front of the telly for Rio 2016, when people will have new heroes to look up to.

All over Twitter tonight, the phrase being quoted is one from Dr. Seuss; ‘Don’t be sad it’s over, be glad it happened’; ideal for the end of an event that captured the imagination of even some of the most cynical. There’s none more cynical than me, and not just when it comes to the Olympics. Life has a nasty habit of kicking me in the teeth, and I wonder if I’ll find myself having to say that phrase to myself in the very near future or, like our athletes, will I have to wait until the excitement has died down and emotions aren’t so new and raw, whenever that will be? Like our athletes with London 2012, it's something I'm not likely to forget,.

The days grow short when you reach September

That’s two-thirds of the year gone already. In a week from now, it will have been quarter of a year since I last washed my car. It’s dark around 8 in the evening and not light until around 7 in the morning. The days grow short when you reach September, and the nights are fair drawing in. What is there to do around here in the hours between work and sleep?

• One can sit in a concert hall, theatre or other venue and be entertained by people much more talented than one’s self. The season for concerts and plays is upon us, and I report on such things on my blog, Best Seat In The House
• One can attend football matches featuring one’s favourite team(s), and I report on that on my blog, Sent To The Stands
• One can still find time to go away for the day or the weekend, and I report on that (sometimes) on my blog, True Adventures
• Once can stay in and watch TV or listen to the radio, and I do that right here.

Tonight, at 19:20 BST, the waiting was over. My world has been somewhat topsy-turvy since Saturday 1 October 2011, and I hope that some stability can be achieved now that Doctor Who is back for a short run. ‘Asylum of the Daleks’ was a fairly good episode, featuring the surprise appearance of a character of which we are destined to see more (how???), but lacking the outrageous humour of Steven Moffat’s previous ‘openers’. It had an epic, big-screen look to it, with some wonderful camera work by Nick Hurran, who had directed ‘The Girl Who Waited’, and really should have lasted ninety minutes. For anyone perturbed by the Dalek voice, this episode must have been a nightmare.

The world of politics has been rather quiet, with the summer recesses both in Holyrood and Westminster, but that doesn’t stop the sniping over the Independence referendum or the Tories’ relentless march towards a society cleansed of all the poor, sick and disabled, even when the Paralympics are taking place in London. One of the sponsors of this event is ATOS, who have hit the headlines many times in the last two years however, in the last couple of weeks, they have passed fit for work a man in a coma, and also got an honourable mention the other day when the story broke of a lady they had previously passed fit for work having died of cancer. Many competitors in the GB team for the Paralympics (not called TeamGB, but ParalympicsGB) covered up the ATOS logo when they appeared at the opening ceremony, and so they should.

Finally, as if my life wasn’t complicated enough, I have finally decided to complete my English Literature degree (*) with the Open University. I sort of started in 2004, and have stumbled along ever since, adding a few credit points as I have gone along, and now I need 240 credits (or four modules at 60 credits each) in order to complete the qualification. This will take me four years; four years in which I have to pass each of the four modules and not drop out of one and repeat it later, as the modules I have already passed will cease to be counted after 2017. I think I can do it. After all, I’m only aiming for a ‘Desmond’ (a 2:2), as I already have a First Class Honours degree, from that same, venerable institution. What do you mean I should tell the world about it? Well, I’m sure that the associated trials and tribulations will adequately fill the hole left by the departure of travel, football and the performing arts to their own blogs. I will, however, need to create a new blog all about the novels, plays and poems themselves.

Did you know that it's been a year (52 weeks) since I resumed (and continued) blogging? Well, it has, and it all began (resumed) here. It's been fun, hasn't it?

*Yes, I’m the one with the reading problems, so how the hell am I ever going to be able to read works of literature in order to write about them? Stay tuned.