mytbc

Roy Paymon’s Guarding Crows!

Who on Earth is Roy Paymon? Actually, I have no idea.

I was browsing Reddit late one night when there was a post in the subscriber only subreddit r/lounge where a gentleman was offering the first 100 responders a free copy of his debut album. What follows is my attempt at reviewing that album.

I don’t really know how to review music. I’ve tried it before, which ended with me receiving a free CD. That’s always nice. I’ve attempted it a couple of other times, but I guess reviewing isn’t my forte (a word I am surprised to see doesn’t actually have an accent on the e. Huh).

Maybe we should ask what the man says about himself. The following description is taken from the about page of his website.

With a unique playing style, evoking equal parts dusty Americana and traditional Greek music, Roy Paymon delivers a haunting debut in Guarding Crows, an ethereal stream of songs drenched in rustic influences, new and old.

From the fire-and-brimstone stomp of “Big Black Bell”, to the fragile beauty of “Imonetta”, Roy Paymon has threaded a dense, unique tapestry that pays tribute to the soundscapes of Ross Daly, Emmylou Harris, Fleetwood Mac and Daniel Lanois, filtered through pop harmonies and rootsy time signatures. Despite the lush, intricate orchestrations of Guarding Crows, all songs were written, performed and produced by Roy Paymon in his bedroom, using only an old mic and the trusty guitar that has kept him company throughout his peculiar journeys around the world from military officer to award-winning film-maker.

Roy Paymon currently lives in Brooklyn.

His music reminds me a little of John Kraus’s excellent Donkey Off A Dead Horse, or Robert Plant’s Gallow’s Pole. It has that feel of traditional folk songs with a bit of a modern twist. Except that these aren’t traditional folk songs, they were all written by the man himself. That takes some skill, writing a traditional song. They’re brand new, but they feel old. I’m not sure I can give any better praise than that.

Admittedly I’ve only had the album a few hours and my feelings could change, but this is a solid album that I think will easily fit into my regular listening schedule. My personal highlights are Big Black Bell, Tipperary Sand and Bone Chime. Give it a listen in the player up above, and if it strikes your fancy, buy the album for only $7.99 from Bandcamp, iTunes or £5.99 on Amazon’s MP3 service.

Small Site Update!

I don’t know how many of you notice the header image up above, or that it changes on every page (usually), or indeed if you refresh the page. It loads a random picture on every page load. Anyway, previously there were 22 images for it to choose from, but I have now added another 20! That’s an almost 50% chance of you getting a completely new picture if you refresh this post, right now! That’s more exclamations marks than I would normally ever use.

Springtime in Georgia: Part Three, To London, Sir

A trip report documenting my March 2010 visit to Katie.

1. Purpose and Planning
2. Getting Started
3. To London, Sir
4. Back in the US Airways
5. Terminal A-West, Philadelphia Born and Raised

The Glasgow Flyer might not be the cheapest way of getting to the airport from the city centre, I believe that the First AirLink services might be cheaper, however they take a less direct routing, are not 24 hours and just use ordinary buses, so do not have the special luggage racks that the Glasgow Flyer has. Of course, for convenience one could take a Taxi to the airport, and this can even be cheaper if there are several of you travelling. Still, £7 for an open return on a comfortable bus, running 24 hours a day, free wi-fi and plenty of luggage space is a good deal. So that’s what I did.

As the bus speeded on towards the airport, I was lucky enough to catch a pink wintery sunrise from the Kingston Bridge that reminded me just why I loved living in Glasgow. While the excitement of my day’s travel still filled me, I was made a little sad that I no longer got to live in my favouritest of all Scottish cities.

To cheer myself up I broke out my phone and updated my facebook status: “Murray Barnes is on a bus. Final destination: Manchester, GA”. As the bus drew closer and closer to the airport, the excitement grew and grew. I’d had airline tickets for months, but like a child in November who doesn’t really believe that Christmas is coming it had never really felt real to me. As the bus pulled off the motorway junction for Glasgow Airport, it finally began to feel real.

I’m a cheapskate, and rather like proper airline stock boarding passes, so I’d elected to wait until I got to the airport to print my boarding passes. BMI, like many airlines it seems, prefer people to use machines than actually talk to staff-members. That’s fair enough, I’m a little antisocial too, so I was happy to use the self check-in machines. Besides, I have a computer science degree, how hard could it be?

First, I tried to check in using my Diamond Club card. Nope, no record found. OK, I’ll try the passport. Nope, no record found. PNR? Nope, no record found. Sweet. After about five or ten minutes, I admitted defeat, died a little inside, and actually went up to the desk to speak to a human being.

Although there was nobody in front of me in the queue, it probably took as long for the check-in ladies to acknowledge my presence as I’d spent messing around with their machine. They were too busy talking to a male member of staff, demanding that he eat a bar of chocolate. The first thing the assistant dealing with me did was apologise and explain that their colleague was diabetic and feeling light-headed, so they were wanting to make sure he didn’t collapse. I guess that’s slightly more important than me, maybe.

Check-in was performed quickly, my bag tagged to its destination, and my seat preferences checked. I was handed my boarding passes and thanked for my custom. I pulled my backpack once more onto my back and headed on the long journey up some escalators and round a corner to security.

Glasgow Airport has three piers for gates (one domestic, one international, and one for easyjet and the Scottish islands, basically), and it used to be that each pier had its own security which meant that the main shopping area was before security. However, in December 2008 they changed this around creating one large security area before the shops. It’s a fairy large security section with many x-ray machines, though I’ve only ever seen a small number of those open at any one time. This may be because I don’t fly particularly frequently, and when I do I usually go through security at about moronic o’clock in the morning.

I’d planned ahead, I’d dressed appropriately. No belt, no watch, no steel toe-capped boots, no money in my pocket. I am an airport security ninja. Phone out my pocket, laptop out my backpack, walk up to the metal detector and I’m through with no beeps. Fantastic! Why I was still pulled aside for a pat-down, I can not be sure. I can only refer you to the picture above, and possibly point you at this article if you still don’t get it. If there’s one celebrity lookalike you don’t really want, it’s probably that one.

I ignored the World Duty Free, since I don’t drink, don’t smoke and think that perfume smells horrible. I ignored the “buy a stupidly expensive raffle ticket and WIN A SUPER-CAR!!!!!!1111″ stand, since I can’t afford a stupidly expensive raffle ticket, understand a little thing called odds, and don’t know how to drive. I ignored the shops selling tacky Scottish souvenirs, since I knew the only tacky Scottish souvenir my girlfriend wanted was me, and I ignored the signs telling me the way to my gate, since if you head onto the domestic pier, you are not allowed back into the main shopping area and I had quite a bit of time to kill.

My first port of call, as always, was Boots the chemist, where I partook of their fantastic meal deal. I was shocked (shocked!), however, to learn that the airport price was now £3.49, a whole 50p more than on the high street. Last time I’d come through the airport, the price had been the same. Still, £3.49 for a chicken and bacon sandwich, a lemon swirl cheesecake and a can of (at this point, I would like you to imagine the “ahhahhahhhhhhhah” bit from The Immigrant Song) Relentless is still a fantastic deal in an airport, and The Lord knew I’d be needing that Relentless later.

After stocking up on those essentials for my journey, I decided to go on a long and mighty quest to the international pier, and see if there was anything exciting going on out there. Not really, no. Still, it killed twenty minutes or so. After that I decided I’d had enough excitement from that pier, and headed for domestic departures, see if there was anything exciting down there. There was a British Airways plane, London City bound, loading up, but really the airport was fairly quiet so I headed for my gate to read my book

Flight: BD003 GLA-LHR
Date: 8th March 2010
Scheduled Departure: 0910
Scheduled Arrival:1040
Equipment:Airbus A319
Seat:11A
Miles: 345 flown, 300 earned

Boarding was called not too long after the plane arrived. Using on-line check-in, I’d managed to get a window seat in row 11, above the wing. Upon boarding, the flight seemed to be really rather full. I counted two empty seats, but somebody was looking down kindly on me that day, as one of those two happened to be 11B, the seat right next to me! If you came to this trip report looking for the exact time of take-off, you’re not going to get it. It was scheduled for 09:10 in the morning, and it probably happened around then. I don’t care. If that’s the kind of thing you dig, then I recommend you bog off, and maybe even read this fantastic report from Mr. Seat 2A, trip-reporter extraordinaire.

The flight, like most short-haul flights, was short and mostly unmemorable. I didn’t need the meal I didn’t get, but knowing that I’d have gotten one when I booked, but they’d taken that away from me did annoy me slightly. Still, there was an upshot of this. I wrote to Diamond Club explaining that I had never used my blue plus status, and now they’d removed the only perk, could I maybe have my 3000 status miles back? They thought about it for a few weeks, agreed with me, and gave me back my 3000 status miles, which with the 9000 or so miles I’d get from this trip, and about 4000 leftover from my last trip would be enough to push me up to Silver status level. Hooray!

It wasn’t long until we were descending into London Heathrow. I had a 95 minute layover, which I assumed would be long enough that a leisurely stroll to my gate would be OK, since both BMI and US Airways use Heathrow’s Terminal 1. Once we pulled into our gate, and we did the usual standing around waiting for the door to open thing, looking at our watches and tutting impatiently, I followed the transfers signage. Eventually I reached a bored looking woman who had a queue stretching up to meet her. She would look at your boarding pass and tell you which terminal to head for. She had to look up US Airways, which I guess is reasonable since they only have a single flight each day from Heathrow (their other London flight, from Charlotte, flying into Gatwick). Still, she eventually told me what I already knew, and I was let into Heathrow’s shopping mall.

My flight was already showing as boarding, and from gate 49, which was said to be a 20 or so minute walk away. I never trust time estimates, but I couldn’t be bothered doing any shopping, so headed for the gate straight away. So I walked, and I walked, and I walked some more. After about six hours of walking, I had to take a toilet break, and then I began walking again. I’m pretty sure I walked most of the way back to Glasgow by the time I reached the gate for my next flight, US Airways to Philadelphia, which will be the next portion of this report.

Springtime in Georgia: Part Two, Getting Started

A trip report documenting my March 2010 visit to Katie.

1. Purpose and Planning
2. Getting Started
3. To London, Sir
4. Back in the US Airways
5. Terminal A-West, Philadelphia Born and Raised

Normally when it comes to packing, I am very much a last minute kind of guy. My first US bound trip had a departure time of 5:55 A.M., and I was still packing at 1.30. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that this time. My flight would be taking off from Glasgow Airport at about nine in the morning on the Monday, but I don’t live in Glasgow any more. To get there for that time required staying overnight in Glasgow on the Sunday night, but I was working all day on the Sunday, so had to do my packing on the Saturday. I was disgusted with myself. Disgusted.

Just to make myself feel better, I only packed my checked case on the Saturday, leaving my carry on bag for the hour or so I’d have between getting home from work and heading out to the train station. Got to stick it to the man somehow, even if the man happens to be future me.

About the only part of packing I enjoy is the thinking about what book I’m going to pack for my flights. This is why about a week before I was due to go, I found myself in the local Waterstone’s browsing the pitifully small Sci-Fi/Fantasy section. Yes, I could have gone on-line, found something much cheaper, had it delivered and all that, but there’s just something about the simple pleasure of going into a book shop, choosing something almost at random and taking it home. This time I chose American Gods by Neil Gaiman, since the title seemed appropriate, and I really rather enjoyed the movie and book of Stardust.

So, it’s Sunday morning. 24 hours until my first flight takes off. Normally, this is when on-line check-in opens, so I head over to the US Airways website to have a look. Ah, of course, my first segment is with BMI, so I need to check in with them. So I head over to BMI’s stellar website to see if I can manage that. Their website did not recognise my PNR, but would accept an e-ticket number. Back, then, to US Airways, into Manage Reservations, find the e-ticket number, back to BMI, only to get an error.

BMI are what we in the industry know as “special”. Their IT set-up in particular causes great joy among their frequent flyers. What is very cool about them is their on-line check-in procedure. See, I was checking in for flight BD003, which takes off at 0910 on a Monday. But on a Sunday it doesn’t take off until, say, 1030. Using BMI logic, the 24 hours before 0910 on a Monday doesn’t start until after BD003 has taken off on the Sunday. As I started work at 1000, I couldn’t actually check in until I’d finished work. Sweet. Gotta love BMI.

So, anyway, I go to work, stay there for 9 hours and come home. I finally get to check in. I add my BMI Diamond Club number to my reservation, select a window seat for my BMI flight and fill in required APIS information. With that done and dusted, I pulled out the backpack I’d be using for my carry on and emptied it onto my bed. I was slightly confused because the only thing that was in it was a brand new copy of American Gods, yet I had a brand new copy of it sitting in a Waterstone’s bag waiting to be packed into it. Apparently without knowing it, I’d bought a book I’d already owned and never read. Sometimes I can be as “special” as BMI.

I left the house about half eight to catch the last train of the evening through to Glasgow, the 2105 to Glasgow Queen Street, stopping every six hundred yards to serve every settlement of more than six people, just in case any of them decided they wanted to travel to Glasgow that evening (hint: they didn’t). Such is the problem with the last train, it’s the slow train. I mean, that’s a whole 15 extra minutes of my life wasted!

So, anyway, I was at the train station about 30 minutes before my train. By this time the ticket office was closed, so I used the self service machine, got my ticket and went straight to the platform. Thankfully they had not locked the waiting shelter yet, for it was a March night in Scotland, i.e. freezing.

The train turned up, on time even. One of the advantages of the last train at night is the number of empty seats. Not only do very few people want to arrive in Glasgow at 2230 on a Sunday night, but First Scotrail will often put two trains together for the last few journeys, to position them for the next day’s services. Such was the case this night. The front train was a three car Class 170, as pictured above, while the rear train was a two car Class 158. Inside, there’s little difference between the two. The 170 has a nicer disabled toilet, and space for four bicycles instead of just two. See the kind of quality information I’m able to provide? Anyway, I got on the front train as it meant less walking when I got to Queen Street, a terminus type station.

I managed to find space on a luggage rack for my checked bag, remembering well the time I got shouted at by the conductor for blocking one of the vestibules (or “the bits near the doors” in normal talk). Then I managed to get myself a seat at one of the tables, pulled out my laptop and launched myself into a game of Railroad Tycoon 3. Yo Dawg, I hear you like trains indeed.

Thanks to the business of trying to create a successful Mexican rail-road, the train journey was over really rather quickly, and I was back in Glasgow. Thankfully I had arranged to stay at my brother’s university accommodation, which is only around ten minutes from the station. Thankfully, because it was still Baltic outside. After a very cold ten minute walk, I lugged my surprisingly heavy case up the two flights of stairs to his flat, and suddenly appreciated just how warm it could be.

My suggestions of going out and doing something were met with cries of “But I have to stuuuudy. I have a test tomorrow. I don’t understand IEEE 754. I need to study”. That was fair enough, as I was a graduate of his course, and I still don’t understand IEEE 754. It’s crazy, that’s what it is. Still, somehow despite his need to study, we sat around in his living room until around 1am chatting, after which I was handed a sleeping bag, and shown the far, far too short for sleeping sofa.

All too shortly my phone alarm started blaring. What kind of sick, sick man sets an alarm for 5am when he only went to bed at 1? Oh, right. Once again past me had stuck it to present me. He’s a dick. Still, I was awake now, so I got up. I’m a firm believer, when travelling, of dressing to suit the destination. It gets you fired up, ready to be there. So that’s why at 5.30am, on a Scottish wintery morning in Glasgow you could find me walking down the street in Shorts, T-shirt, Sandals and pulling a large suitcase. To say I was cold would be an understatement.

First stop was McDonald’s, the only place I know to get a bacon roll before 6am in the centre of Glasgow. Bacon roll, hash brown and orange juice consumed, and life considerably shortened, I headed for the bus station for the Glasgow Flyer bus service to Glasgow Airport

Springtime in Georgia: Part One, Purpose and Planning.

A trip report documenting my March 2010 visit to Katie.

1. Purpose and Planning
2. Getting Started
3. To London, Sir
4. Back in the US Airways
5. Terminal A-West, Philadelphia Born and Raised

So it was Christmas, and what had I done? Someone told me that war could be over, if I wanted it. I wouldn’t mind that, but I’d prefer that song be over. It’s terrible. But as much as I want war to be over, or even perhaps to never have to hear that song again, there was something I wanted even more.

I’d spent the previous Christmas in the states with my girlfriend, and having to instead spend this Christmas at home, with my family of all people, reinforced just how much I missed her. Sure, I’d last seen her only three months ago in September, but suddenly I wanted nothing more than to be in Georgia, with my arms squeezed tightly around a certain Ms. Fuller. Unfortunately, my work don’t allow people to take time off around Christmas. I think it’s something to do with the company actually being run by Satan. Also, since I’d only started in September, I would need to wait until I’d been there long enough to get two weeks off, so just after Christmas I asked my boss when I could go on holiday.

Eventually the news came back that I would be allowed two weeks off in March. Now I knew the dates I could go for, it was time to look at my options for airlines. My last trip had been with US Airways. It had not been particularly enjoyable, except for the hiccup in the weather giving me a mini holiday in Philadelphia itself. However, due to the frequent flyer scheme I’d joined, I was looking for star alliance airlines to get me to Atlanta.

That leaves me with Continental Airlines, US Airways or United Airlines. For some reason, United are never competitive on routes from Glasgow. Probably due to them not flying there, and forcing you to connect through London Heathrow on a bmi flight. On the dates I was looking at, Continental were proving to be about £20, £30 more expensive than US Airways. However, the direct Glasgow US Airways flights I’d taken in the summer were seasonal, so like United I’d have to connect through London.

This wasn’t actually a negative for me, as by flying through London the route would be 9000 miles, as opposed to about 7500, which would be enough to get me Silver status in the BMI Diamond Club frequent flyer scheme. Actually, if my British credit card worked on the American US Airways site, I’d have thrown a couple of extra segments in for free, through either Chicago O’Hare, Washington Dulles or Charlotte, just for the extra miles. Always come in handy. As it was, I booked through Tesco, who appear to own Lastminute.com, so that at the very least I could get clubcard points, and indeed British Airways air miles.

The planning all cushty now, it was time for the most difficult task. Waiting. And waiting. Still, at least it wasn’t boring. My boss went off sick, and the replacement boss I got in didn’t know about my holiday, then when I told him about it, tried to tell me I couldn’t take it. In fact, it escalated so much that I had to threaten to quit my job, and only found out the day before I left that it was actually fine for me to take my holiday, but the compromise was that I’d only get paid for one of the two weeks. Like I say, company run by Satan.

Stay tuned for the start of the journey, all the excitement of a transatlantic trip in the back, my encounter with America’s finest border agents, and finally making it to Atlanta and my woman, some bits about what I did while I was there, and the return journey itself. Considering the trip itself was in March, and that it’s now the end of May. Expect me to finish this trip report sometime in the next three or four years, perhaps.