All the threes....

Thirty-three today... although some days I feel ten years younger and others I feel twice that!

Thank you to everyone who has sent wishes by sms, e-mail and Facebook. For me, though, it's just another Monday... in that Monday is usually my day off but I am still sitting at my laptop e-mailing bands to book, updating lists, chasing various organisations.

This is the true definition of a 24/7 job - I never actually stop working! If a friend tells me it's their birthday coming up, or they're leaving, I immediately suggest they hold a party at my venue, The Prince of Wales... I'll get in a good band, we'll do a barbecue and block off the garden for you, how about a special on selected beers. The almost sad thing is that this Friday the PoW will be hosting MY party! That's right, I am holding my own birthday party at work, which means that I will also be glad-handing and schmoozing to try and get folk to keep coming back!

Luckily I managed to book my favourite Singaporean band to play - The Great Spy Experiment (check them out at www.myspace.com/thegreatspyexperiment ). These guys were just starting out when I arrived in Singapore and I caught them playing a few times at the PoW, back when I was just a drinker and occasional musician there. And now they have done two mini-tours in the states and just released their first album! Singapore being so small, however, immediately puts limits on good original artists so I really want to plug them to everyone I know... so spread the word! These guys rock!!! And, with a fondness for the bar they started out in, and with me kind of knowing the singer Saiful, I have got these borderline superstars to play at my own birthday party!!! The perks of the job...

As wsell as GSE I also booked another guy I recently came across, Andrew Chen (check out http://www.myspace.com/andrewchen120). Most of you know what a HUGE Jeff Buckley fan I am... well this guy, in his late teens, plays and sounds so reminiscent of Buckley that it is actually quite scary! And he writes wonderful songs too... It's things like this that make this job worthwhile!!

Anyway, I am just using my birthday to promote two acts that I admire and think should be on much bigger stages. Hey, it worked for The Arctic Monkeys, why can't we do the same for these guys... right?

Take care of yourselves, and catch up soon.

Alex

ps - apparently both Jesus and Alexander the Great died at age 33. As the Killers might say, "He doesn't look a thing like Jesus", but the similarity of the second blokes name could be ominous for me.....!

Absent Friends

I actually wrote this post two weeks ago but the computer crashed before I could upload it. The nature of it is such that I felt I could not revisit and rewrite it straight away, and what you get here even now is a stripped down, less poetic abridgement of my original thoughts. But that is simply because I find it hard to write about the deaths of several friends over the last few months...

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The Jura bar will be a far emptier place next time I visit it. I remember a few years back staying behind to continue working there for my Aunt and Uncle after the usual family Christmas and Hogmanay. Once all the festivities had died down and the visitors disappeared on the wee ferry I was left with a pleasant kind of Groundhog Day experience as the Three Wise Men stepped into the bar each lunchtime and whiled away my afternoon shift with intermittent comments on the weather or the football. Ian Keith, Duncan Buie and Paddy Boyle, men I cannot remember ever not knowing. Men who, when I was a nipper, had given me lifts to school or cursed me as I nearly ran them down on my bike. Men who, in my teens, had bought me the odd pint whilst taking the piss out of my long hair. Men who, that winter, barely needed to say a word to be content in each others company and who extended that same easy comfort to me. Men who were simply there. Always there.

Ian actually passed away a while back. I remember noticing the void last time I was over on Jura and thinking how strange it felt. Then earlier this year Paddy, the youngest of the three (I am sure he was still only in his late 4o's, but I may be wrong), suddenly and unexpectedly died, a death that shocked the island and all those who know it well. Within a few weeks that shock became a stunned disbelief as Duncan was also found dead in his armchair, still in the clothes he had been wearing when he was last seen two nights earlier.

I find it uncomfortable to dwell on their deaths, preferring to remember those cold January days of lazily consumed pints, the odd chink of loose change in the bandit, and sporadic conversations... "Wind's gettin' up" ..... "Aye" ....................... "Boat comin' in"..... "Aye".......................... "'Another pint?" ..... "Aye" ........................................................

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About a week after hearing about Duncan I received an e-mail from a friend in Wakefield telling me Geoff Bladen had died. His death was less unexpected, but still sad news nonetheless. I lved in Wakey for five years, three at Uni and two more after, during which time I worked for Geoff and his wife Shirley at The Forrester's Arms pub near my halls of residence. Shirley was a motherly sort who looked after me a great deal, always making sure I was eating right and on one truly broke occasion even doing some laundry for me! Geoff would just roll his eyes and shake his head, his mannerisms and gruff exterior belying the fact that he was one of that rare breed of people who have a complete heart of gold.

As my boss he sometimes had to give me what he would refer to as "a bollocking", and he knew how to do that well, I can tell you! Yet once he said his piece he would return to being himself and treating you exactly the same as before - "Ah've said what ah needed t' say, kid. Tha's done wi't." (That's my attempt at recreating his thick Barnsley accent, by the way). And outside of work he was simply a mate - we played pool together for the pub team many a time and we went for regular Monday night drinks at another pub with Mark, his long-time friend and my landlord / housemate.

When Shirley died a couple of years ago I made the trip back to Yorkshire for the funeral. I didn't get to really speak to Geoff, but then I didn't really expect to, to be honest - Shirley was a popular woman and they had quite a large family. But I later found out how chuffed he had been that I had gone back. The thing that really sticks with me, though, is remembering seeing this usually calm and laid back guy with soft tears of affection trickling down his cheeks. I don't know how long they had been married, but it was a long time, and my memories of their relationship hold more niggles and quibbles than hugs and kisses, but at that moment you could really feel the love that had existed between them. Most of us can only hope that we will experience a fraction of that...

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Graham was the youngest of my friends to die recently - I think he was 25 or 26. Out of everyone, however, his death was probably the least surprising. I cannot remember the name of the condition that had kept him strapped into a wheelchair all his life but I do know that doctors never expected him to make it past puberty. I also know that they told him he shouldn't eat and drink certain things (alcohol, for one) but he adopted the attitude that if he hadn't got long he was bloody well going to enjoy himself! And I have had some serious benders with him, not least when we were raising money for an electric wheelchair (pushing him was taking its toll on his folks) and decided the way to do it was a sponsored pub-crawl around twenty Banbury bars.

Graham's condition left him slow of speech, which frustrated him immensely - especially when it prompted people to talk to him like he was a toddler (or worse, like a pet cat). The truth is he had a wicked sense of humour and the memory of an entire herd of elephants. I always used to make a point of telling people that he wasn't slow, it was just his mouth couldn't keep up with his mind.

The memory I will always have of Graham will be going to a theme park and sitting next to him on some stupidly heart-stopping free-fall ride. When we reached the top and were let drop I was mindful of not swearing in front of the young girl next to me as my life flashed before my eyes - "Ohhhh.... ffffff....flippin' 'eck!!!!!" came the scream, accompanied by a roar of laughter from the git sitting next to me whose fault it was that I was about to meet my end. Of course I was perfectly safe and, as we were being let out, Graham simply turned to me with his face creased into a huge grin and spat out the words "Useless c***!". That was Graham - he didn't give a damn and, frankly, I couldn't blame him.

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All of these people were important figures in my life and I wish I had spent more time with them when I had the chance. But then I suppose we always do, don't we? And so I raise a metaphorical glass to each and every one of them and say...

"To absent friends"

Why am I here...?

I've kind of become an old hand at living in Singapore, having been here nearly two years. For most ex-pats it seems to be getting past year one that is the hurdle - it is the kind of place that either really suits you or simply never will. Oh, there are plenty I know who have been here far, far longer than I, but I am also acutely aware of the seemingly never-ending train of folk who flit in and out of my life... stop-over new friends for a stop-over city.

Now, I have never been a city lover, not one bit. Especially London, that sprawling, choking, migraine inducing ode to claustrophobia. Yes, I know I lived in Wakefield for a while, but that was a very small city, not much bigger than the market town of Banbury. And, yes, I love Glasgow, with its galleries and bars and parks and sheer vibrancy, but I have never imagined myself as a full-time resident. So what is it that makes Singapore feel right for me?

One can cite all the cliches of cleanliness, low crime, even lower taxes and so on but as much as these are all undoubted selling points they alone are not enough to keep me here. The weather is obviously good and the food delectable, but I never minded the cold and have always been a drinker rather than an eater (and drink is one thing that is more costly than in the UK). My main reason for staying has been perhaps some of the fantastic friends I have made here, both ex-pat and local, but as I have equally fantastic friends all over the UK as well surely that isn't what compels me to remain... is it?

Truth is, I don't know exactly why I'm here. I only know that right now I don't want to be anywhere else. Okay, maybe a few days on a beach or in the hills (even in this most green-leafed of island cities you can miss peaceful Mother Nature from time to time), but I'd still come back. I know that as much as I love Jura it doesn't hold what I need right now... as much as I miss friends in Banbury I've outgrown my childhood haunts... as much as I loved being in Wakefield I'm bloody well 32 now and need to stop aping Trofimov from The Cherry Orchard, questing to remain the eternal student...

More than that I need to become me. No, I don't mean 'find myself' - bleuch!! - I already know myself, thank you very much. But we often become defined by our surroundings and the people I was in each of the three places where I spent most of my life no longer exist. Even if that is how you remember me...

This is me. Welcome to my world. I hope you enjoy your stay. Please wipe your feet at the door...

Peace out,
Alex

That boring "hello world" first post...

So I finally got one of these blog thingies, but I don't know what to write. Ah, well... it'll come in time. Just in case anyone stumbles on this site allow me to introduce myself. I am Alex Gow - Scottish (and a Diurach) by heritage and heart, Banburian by dint of spending most of my life there, temporary Yorkshireman whilst at college, and now an Ang Moh (literally 'red-hair' but essentially anyone caucasian) residing in Singapore. I trained as an actor and - in typical "those who can, do" fashion - I now teach drama at a boys school. Oh, and I play lots of music outside of work (mandola, mandolin, violin, guitar).

Anyway, if this hasn't bored you yet please do come back sometime... hopefully I will have posted something else by then!

Cheerio!

ps - I know you won't read this, at least not today, but Happy Birthday bro!