Jose Archer - Tosantos approaching villambistia

"Do you know Tommy I love Tosantos. Even more than I loved Belorado. And you know I loved Santo Domingo de la Calzadas even more than I loved Azofra. This Camino thing is hauntingly mysterious. This love inside me I thought it burst out on the first night but it's like a lava flow. The love is setting hard wherever we go and yet there's always more wherever we arrive."

"You're just a love machine" said Tommy cackling. "I feel the same, but not quite your skill with the words"

They had just walked through a field of sunflowers in late September. The sunflowers bowed their heads to the huffing and puffing pellegrinos as they marched by, fair pecking  in Tommy's case. Pilgrims had drawn smiley faces on their big seeded heads. No surface was untouched by the pilgrim graffiti which would make its way into the food chain then due course.

What's that on the hill Tommy in the rocks. It's like a shrine built into the hillside.

Tommy looked at his half empty  beer then up to the shrine. 

Yes it looks like a temple of some description or maybe it's a tomb. Would you like another he said sensing an opportunity to not climb a hill.

No I might just have a look up there.

Tommy picked up his sticks as if to stand up and walk but then turned to the table and started drumming with them.

"Well if you don't mind, I'll just stay down here, rest my feet and have another beer." He sang then sank back into his chair with a laugh. 

"Oh you've got away with words now." Josephine joined him in an exhausting embrace. The warmth and laughter soaked through them as their bond solidified. A pilgrim took their picture, cementing it in time. Big Tommy on the chair and wee Jose towering over him, powerfully standing and nurturing simultaneously. An image they were both oblivious to. The pilgrim knew it, here was someone who would get this other person to Santiago, the mythical Kingdom. 

"It was beautiful Tommy. One day I'll bring you back here and make you walk up that hill. But in the meantime here's the pictures."  She handed over her phone. Tommy finished his beer and started flicking through them.

"Looks really good" he smiled

"Yes, it was, now finish that beer. You'll get another in Villambistia, it's a full 40 minutes away. This section is methadone heaven for you." Jose chided in comical fashion. 

"Buen Camino" Tommy shouted at the rest of the beer garden pilgrims as he downed his beer and donned his pack.

"Buen Camino" the courtyard chorus replied.

My top 10 momentous moments -which aren't as I only have 4 or 5 and forget them

I often laugh at the most momentous moments in my life which I have ignored and other people find fascinating.... So I am now documenting them that should kill all fascination.

In no particular order but largely they relate to my youth.

When I was six I had to do a jobby on a potty for three days because I swallowed a thruppenny bit. This taught me how long the bowel took to process metal. It's also taught me about the strength of the acid in your intestines and stomach as the coin was very shiny when it finally emerged. I don't recommend children turn themselves into human slot machines as they could read this instead. I didn't become a doctor or a biologist in fact the closest I get is having an allotment.

When I am on the Camino walking across to Santiago or wherever I choose to end I bump into people regularly that I feel so at home with. I've never been a fan of "like-minded" people but it is true that on the Camino that are very many people like me. Mad as hatters and relaxed in their madness. I've just forgotten the memorable moment that I always forget, so will fill it in later. As I say this memorable  moments section is full of momentous moments that I disregard all the time as I forget them.

I had a wonderful chat with the treasury minister Angela Knight after her speech at the Mansion House in London in 1997. I basically said that her speech writers were rubbish and that this new system called Crest was a fantastic electronic system which was going to make the market far more secure resilient and would put London ahead of its peers in the world financial industry. It would enable London to move to immediate settlement thereby removing risk completely. If a firm does not have open positions then they could go bust and nobody would notice in the marketplace. Some years later when MF global went bust and it took a few years to unwind all the positions, it demonstrated that the market still had an appetite for risk despite there being mechanisms that removed them. You can install a lift to the top of a mountain but people would still walk. What I always forget is my Rangers supporting mate Tom grabbing me or as he used to say hauling me off the cabinet minister.

I was kicked down the slope when leaving Easter road after Hibs very Rangers game. Your opinion bastards was shouted as the foot went into my back that propelled me down the slope as I exited the old East terracing. In those days fans were segregated using the top tier and the lower tier. This segregation plan came unstuck when they both had to use the same staircase. This particular range is fun to say that the I should use the grass. It reinforced the belief that Catholics had tried to perpetuate in my youth of victimhood. We were all Jock Tamson's victims. I however did not become a priest later in life nor did I bother going to church again. I decided that all that stuff was fairy tales and what was real was the foot that connected with my back and nearly killed me.

When I was 26 I felt fated to commit suicide. Having been married for 18 months I decided on the eve of my 26th birthday to get divorced. I have had suicidal thoughts for many years leading up to this point but was lucky enough to go out with a girl whose brother had the same name as me and had committed suicide when he was 26. She read me the riot act about suicide and I never mentioned it again to her. In fact one of the reasons why we split up was I felt I would let her down one day and that hurt me more than anything. 26 years therefore goes down as being a momentous occasion as I survived it. There was one night in particular when I was living on the 21st floor of a barbican Terra in London. The railings around the balcony were waist high and one night in a fit of pique I left all the doors open and went to sleep saying if I sleep walk and die it was fated. I never had the confidence to kill myself, as troubled as I was there clearly was something in my core that kept me living. I have tried drinking myself to death for the guts of my 58 years and have given it a really good go. I do occasionally still home suicidal thoughts or thoughts about not living. After my mom's funeral I joked with my pal about how "You don't need to commit suicide when death is on its way, naturally" which was a massive stress release for me. Life has been one long continuous struggle trying to do the right thing and watching so many wrong things. I think it is the eye for detail which sees the imperfections and at my worst I am haunted by them. 

I went to the White House Christmas parties when I was 9 & 10. I ran around like a wee daftie searching for the green room. It was pat nixon who gave me a Christmas present and I always tell people it was a tape recorder. I have also puked up on the front steps of said White House but that was on another occasion. I am very blase about all this because it never really left a great impression on me. That is why it makes it onto this list. It is something that others might find curious and I find tedious but as I get older and have fewer stories to tell it is retrieved from the archives.

Well that's five to start us off.

My Deadbeat moments are well documented here so for a ock'n'oll story, (my keyboad has a sticky r) I have two to choose from. They are both Clash moments. I saw the Clash in Paris in 1981 at the Mogado. Mogador if the R is not sticky. The Beat and the Selector were supporting and it was a great night. It was the first time I got in to see a real band for FREE and going backstage to enjoy the buffet was icing on the cake. The free bevvy was the candles. We got backstage passes because we were lucky enough to meet the road manager aloft the Eiffel Tour!I threw him some funsize Mars Bars and we got talking. It got better when he started winding us up about being the tour manager. "Oh yes he was" I said to my mate. We turned up at the door and gave our names, more in hope than expectation, and suddenly we're in a sell out gig with backstage passes. My mate left after "Washington Bullets" and so I went home alone via a few beers and 27 canapes backstage where the band needed help with the food. Fat Al never needed a second invitation. He arrived in Scotland with an appetite, being almost 10lbs at birth. That appetite served him well at 19! I'd get to me Joe and Paul later at the end of Deadbeat when they were in Edinburgh and looking to play at La Sorbonne. As Neil the bassist of the band booked that night said, "we'd hired a van, so we needed paid, and they'd only pay, if we dumped the Clash to play." I turned it into a Life Support song a few weeks later, it worked a treat.

Bella

I meant old napper Tandy yesterday while I was out walking and he took me by the hand to what I can only describe as a banksy.

It was like a banksy meats Guernica.

The scene was Bella Houston Park in Glasgow and it had been painted red white and blue with all the ranger supporters who had turned out to celebrate their clubs victory in the league.

It was a fantastic piece of lockdown socially distant art. The fans Had clearly sought to paint the park blue.

In the corner of the painting stands the famous george square statue with the cone on it. It is also painted green on one side and blue on the other side. In the painting we see mostly the blue side And of course the wondrous cone which stands above all to demonstrate the comedy genius of this Great divide.

I stood at this painting for hours as its social history reached into my core.

I love a good painting.

I see what you're carrying

I see what you're carrying

 I see that it's food I see what you're carrying 

I see that it's no good I see what you're carrying I see this is food I see what you're carrying it'll come to no good I see what you're carrying I have to turn the blind eye I see what you're carrying I need to know lie I see what you're carrying I care I'm in distress I see what you're carrying I can't live my life in this mess

I don't think you're a drugs meal I don't think you have VD I don't think all those things that everyone says to me

I know what you're carrying

Verse 

Chorus

First world europe helps 3rd world USA

I was reading a book recently about how many people from Europe are going over to the USA quite early in the life. What some regarded as a brain drain from Europe was being viewed as missionary work. These wealth generators would galvanize the economy locally and nationally to help the increasingly alarming level of poverty for many citizens of the USA.

I wasn't too sure I believed in this trickle down mentality. Europeans are just as likely to send money home as any other migrant. 

What did surprise me was the number of ivy League places taken up by Europeans. It got my head thinking how academia really was international and felt global but also extremely detached.

I had heard before about Ivory towers and certainly these people will be in a great position to influence policy especially now that Trump has left the White House but I do wonder whether the vast impoverished masses in third world USA have a voice.

In 21st century we have seen passive reactions to events like Louisiana, a rise in police brutality, or a cementing of their racism which was already endemic. White America continues to think it has god on its side, and from this distance just looks like a powder keg. Trump's election came about from the impoverished white communities feeling what about me. Testosterone fueled men suddenly felt they had a voice and a return to when men were men and violence upon whoever was not just acceptable, it was taught.

Women were to be home, man was bred to look after the little woman, to be strong and feel superior through racism. 

I sat in a primary school during P5-6 and it was a quirky thing. I was really condemned hard for not standing up to pledge my allegiance to the flag every morning. I know little about Stockholm syndrome but if you pledge your allegiance on a daily basis then I guess you feel something. Catholics say "I am not worthy...." Regularly! I know, as I did do that one for a few years.

In Sweden education starts with social interaction while in Britain we used to be all about the three R's. In grades 5 & 6 it was all about the flag. I remember memorizing all the presidents all the states all the state capitals and other such trivia.

My classmates would tell me I knew more about America than they did. I would say yes I know about the whole of North America, Mexico & Canada too. Your section is called the United States of America which you often abbreviate to America which is incorrect.

The education, as it was, seemed to be less cultural and more the imperial version I associate with Britain and empire. Being in charge and obliterating, dominating or enslaving other races to get your own way. If you had the money, you had the power to own the town. It was all very monopoly board diplomacy which I found funny as my Dad was a diplomat in Washington DC.

I'm not sure in the 50 years since I was there how the country has progressed but it's not pretty. The rise of the black lives matter movement distressed me as much as it impressed me. It distressed me because I felt during the seventies when I was there we were slowly moving away from a stereotypes and realising the folly of our ways.

 If you know better you do better.

Lessons from history suggest world war I was followed by world war II and for the USA Korea Vietnam Afghanistan Iraq to random acts of state sponsored terrorism like institutional racism. British policing can be bad but when you look across the water from Rodney King to George Floyd in such a few years, police in many states have become more violent and racist. They see a person of colour as an opportunity to let them know who's in charge.

I'm curious about the impact vietnam veterans, who were the subject of many films had on the shaping of the USA in the last 50 years since I was at school there. I can't help thinking like the velvet underground, I was just a few years too young to appreciate it. I was going to white house Christmas parties with the nixon's and running around the green room because I supported Hibs and I missed my beloved Cabbage and Ribs. I feel the generational chasm such a polarising war created just got wider as years went by.

Civil rights and the anti war 60's almost vanished in the 70's and then the iron fist of the state arrived in the 80's and that closed the door to the USA becoming a country of it's people. It became a modern dictator where cash was literally King and this King was not a constitutional leader.

Conscience could be salvaged by the generous donations to charity to help the poor needy folk.

This is where we take pictures of poor little kids with no shoes and say give us a buck to help.

When I was growing up in Edinburgh, I was asked to take thruppence every Friday for the black babies. It's quite appalling looking back at how easily young minds are manipulated, but then it was a Catholic school and as previously mentioned, manipulation is part of the game. Interestingly, this worked on my parents too who would give their 5 children a thruppence. No wonder Catholics and birth control didn't work!

I've drifted off piste again but suffice to say changing minds is so much easier if you haven't filled these heads full of shit in the first play.

More in the stream of consciousness series which will never see the light of day

Give me the kid at 5 and......good habits, bad habits,, brush your teeth, wash your hands, bite your friends ear, spit and kick them when they're down, survival of the fittest, help your neighbour, take flowers to the care home, steal their fags, 

Give me the kid in puberty........ industrialist, terrorist, football player, mathematician, miner, diner or even a 49'er, find out what habits were installed at 5 and make hay...

issues 18 32 & 33 from the original proofs

The pics were much better when the ink didn't run..

#34 Blood Uncles

Its been a while but Deadbeat's #34 which was due for publication on April 23rd 1986 will be out shortly after April 2021 and here's a sneak preview. Apologies to Kate Comfort and we hope the gigs went well - the news desk was always a bit slow at Deadbeat!