For a long time now, I've always gone by the adage that one should use your mouth and ears in the proportion that they are provided. Generally speaking this seems to have served me well, I get to learn things, I don't purposely put my foot in it by saying the wrong thing, I don't have a love affair with the sound of my own voice. It does though have some disadvantages, people do perhaps think I'm too quiet and as a result, I have a sneaking suspicion that opportunities that should perhaps arise for me, arise for other people instead (I have also discovered that smoking does you no harm in the career stakes either, but that's a whole other issue).

In an idle moment this evening, I also wondered whether this principle translates into internet use also. To anyone who visits here regularly, it will be readily apparent that I don't post all that often on here - kind of odd when I could reasonably be described as something of an internet addict - I do though read avidly, but probably not as widely as I should. As I look around though there are plenty of people who, it would seem, cannot shut up (metaphorically speaking). It's not as if I can't write or understand the tools available, I just feel somehow inhibited by some inner working that says "keep your thoughts to yourself". It may be some form of self-protection mechanism, after all, there are rather a lot of people I know in both a work and social setting, who are perfectly well aware of this domain, who owns it and in a good few cases how I came to acquire it (nothing dodgy in that though). Given that blogging forms no natural adjunct to me making a living, what then do I write that allows me to express myself in a way that isn't in some way misinterpreted or viewed with suspicion?

The answer currently appears to be very little of any significance, save numerous references to my assorted hobbies, the occasional travelogue and generally inadequately informed comments on world affairs as and when my gaze is attracted to them. Whether anyone learns a great deal about the inner workings of 'Planet Me' in the process is likely to be purely coincidental and you may be wondering (and to misquote the late great Douglas Adams) "This Chris of Arabia... ...what is he, man or mouse? Is he interested in nothing more than tea and the wider issues of life? Has he no spirit? Has he no passion? Does he not, to put it in a nutshell, fuck?"

Now I'm not likely to answer that question in its literal sense, but using a more general interpretation, then the answer is a very firm "yes". There is a place on Planet Me for the usual panoply of human emotion and experience that goes beyond what you will have divined so far, or at least from these pages. What makes me tick though, and what I should report here remains an open question. Let's for the moment say that there are sufficient matters orbiting 'Me' that would, I'm sure, make interesting reading to those who inhabit a different cultural enclave. Maybe one day, these will be something I will feel more readily disposed towards sharing.

For now then...

[EDIT] Fundamental flaw in the title and early part of this post corrected...

Since this shot was taken on 30 April 2009, I have been informed that Al Dodds (above) has sadly died following a coronary incident at work. He died on 19 July 2009 before they could get him to the hospital for treatment. He leaves a wife behind, who has been provided with a hi-res copy of the picture above, a print of which will be placed on the coffin at Al's funeral. I'm told that his wife has said that this is "an incredible shot that captured his fun loving nature". Rest in Peace Al, and I'm sure we'll all be thinking of you when Salwa Rocks hits the stage again next year.

Yes, really, this is what you can find - I guess you could say we were a little out of the town centre round here. In these parts, a pen full of camels is as commonplace as a field of cows in Devon. Interesting creatures, even if they do pong a bit. The majority are rather timid until they've had a good sniff round you, then once one has sussed you out, you get an audience, right up until the point where you move too quickly for their liking, then they're off. Rather fun animals though, I like them...

To be honest, it's more of an outpatient thing, so nothing series. A little brush up with some wet & dry for its fret ends, a tweak on the truss-rod to take some of the relief out of the neck, a mild fettling of the bridge saddles to allow the strings to sit closer to the fretboard camber, some new strings and a final check up.

The first two are already done and already I can tell that there's an improvement in the way it's playing, though now, the strings may be a fraction too low over the 12th fret, and taking a little more out of the outer saddles would only exacerbate the problem. This is good as I'd got almost no where to go with the bridge adjustment were they still too high.

I love the way this one came together, it looks like it could stun a charging rhino at a hundred paces, mucho kudos to Warmoth who made all the (wooden) components that went into it. I've put some feelers out about taking part in something for next years' Salwa Rocks - no idea whether that will come off, but I can promise that 'Braveheart' will most definitely be putting in some live air time should anything happen.

This is she, perched in the back of the Durango - ain't she purty?

Actually, a much better image of this one is long overdue - time to get the camera out I think.

it's the only explanation I can think of as to why it started playing Ronan Keating's "Love is a Rollercoaster" this evening...

It's not every day you get to give your better half a public declaration of devotion, but that's what I managed this evening. We're over in Bahrain as a bit of a treat for our 9th wedding anniversary (yesterday) and staying once more at the Diplomat up in the DQ area of Manama. As is our won't, we were down in the Fiddlers' Green where The Boxtones are playing once more (must find out when they leave). They were asked to come up with something suitable for an "old married couple" and chose Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours". Nice choice I thought.

So far, we've always enjoyed them as they really do seem to enjoy what they're doing and are far from mechanical in their performances. This evenings' stand out performances were a song we've never heard before (last one on first set) and a cover of Lynyrd Skynyrd's 'Freebird' on which Gary pulled off an absolutely blazing guitar solo. I've no idea how much longer they'll be here in Bahrain, but I'm hoping this won't be the last time we'll see them.

Now how do I get them into Riyadh for Salwa Rocks?

Back to Hong Kong, near Causeway Bay and Happy Valley

For my sins, I was born in a two-up, two-down in Stoke-on-Trent some 47+ years back. The house is still there and on occasion, I think I ought to go back and get myself photographed outside the joint wearing one of my Stoke City shirts - courtesy dictates that I would knock on the front door and ask the current owners if they minded me doing that, my luck would inevitably see me being told to poke off because said occupants would be Port Vale fans, but hey I can but try. The house belonged to my long since departed Great Grandma, my Dad's Gran. As I understand it, my parents lived there for a while after they were married till they got a place of their own in Campbell Road opposite the Victoria Ground. Don't think my Mum enjoyed being there much (Great Gran's, not Campbell Road), but my Dad was doing his National Service at the time and was in Belize for some emergency or other at the time I popped my head into the world.

Most of the first 8 years of my life was spent at the Campbell Road address and it is the place that is primarily responsible for me ending up a Stoke City supporter. I can still picture cold, dark, winter Saturday afternoons when the game was at home, sitting in the front bay window, looking out onto the road where thousands of fans would stream past on their way home, breathe caught white by the lights from the Vic. An image of a Christmas tree covered in fairy lights inside and the floodlights on the front of our house outside remains etched into my memory - how could I not be a fan? In later years, we would find a way of going into the last 10 minutes of the game, when they opened the gates, if we were were really lucky we might see a goal, if not, all we'd likely get the chance to do would be to commiserate with the 'old' men in there and wander off back home dejected. I can still smell the place, the Boothen End, a great Kop like terrace of swaying and chanting folk all of one voice and one aim, to see the mighty Potters win at home. Names like Banks, Ritchie (RIP), Greenhoff, Marsh, Pejic and Smith fought the good fight in our name. They were good days, but being young and largely bereft of money, seeing a whole game was something of a treat despite our proximity to the ground. It wasn't until a few years later that I began to see rather more of the games, once we'd moved out of Campbell Road and up to Oakhill where my parent still live today.

Schooling I largely recall as being something of a trial at every level, as I ended up being bullied in each of the three I attended. Not consistently, but for long enough stretches to make it a fairly miserable experience all round. I survived though, whether the influence has quite worn off all these years later though is debatable - let's just say I'm self reliant and leave it at that. I did though manage to get through enough 'O' Levels to get into the RAF, work on the aircraft and see some small part of the outside world.

I'll leave this here for now and shall on occasion return to pick up the story. Feel free to ask questions should you so desire. I'm no great raconteur, so any jog to the memory is likely to turn up some or other snippet.

I generally find that I need to be in the right mood to write something on here. Other than dropping a couple of photo links on here over the last week or so, I guess you could say that the mood hasn't been quite there for me. I will be back all the same. Patience my dears, patience...