Christopher Columbus

I don't suppose anyone wants to read about my shopping, or housework or ironing so I won't mention them. Though I should say that I find ironing most relaxing especially with some good radio to listen to and here in the UK we are blessed with good old Radio 4. Although if I'm feeling particularly virtuous I listen to one of my Spanish Cd's, thereby improving my mind, keeping fit with the iron and getting nicely pressed shirts into the bargain.

For as long as I can remember I've had books in my life. I just can't imagine life without books. When I was a boy there were always books in our house, though not necessarily ones that I would be reading nowadays. There was a cupboard to the right of the old fireplace, with it's peat fire burning away, which was full of my father's books. There was a pile of old bibles in Gaelic and English, though mostly Gaelic, and the rest theological works of one kind or another. He used to read all these heavy theological works, by reformed theologians, whose names now escape me, other than one called John Owen, who was particularly keen on "justification by faith". He used to get all these books from some book club he belonged to. I should remember the name but I'm afraid it's gone. He must have had more books than many ministers had.

There was also a ten volume encyclopedia, with beautiful red covers which I remember him buying from some salesman who came round the doors. I still remember reading it and being enthralled by the stories and pictures  from all over the world. I especially remember a photo of the Taj Mahal impressing me enormously and thinking that one day I would see it for real. I still have that dream. I don't remember any pictures or stories from Peru or South America, but I guess there must have been some

One time I'd been reading about Christopher Columbus and his trip to "discover" America and the next day old Fury, our headmaster, and a whole other story, but you can guess from his name what kind of fellow he was, asked if anyone knew the name of Columbus' ship. How he thought that anyone  from that bunch of scholars should know it is beyond me, but you can imagine his surprise when I was able to tell him. In case you're interested it was called the Santa Maria.

There was also some lighter reading such as accounts of the escapades of various Presbyterian missionaries as they sought to convert the world, and especially Africa and India, to their very own version of Christianity. And of course we had "The Pilgrim's Progress" by John Bunyan, bits of which I still remember. Such was our Sunday reading material. Though as the years passed we diversified a bit by going to bed early on the Sabbath and reading illicit material such as Biggles Flies West, or some such.

I started writing this thinking about my reading habits, but ended up somewhere else, so will have to come back to my love of reading at another time. 

"The Artist"

I know I've promised to keep my blog going on my return to UK but somehow not quite getting round to it, or else always finding something else to do which at the time seems important, like cleaning or ironing or just generally time wasting. I must spend hours just dithering and generally messing about. So now that I've started I plan to continue. Though what I'm going to write about I have no idea. Life in Edinburgh is not quite the same as life in Peru, interesting to me but maybe not to anyone else.

Last night I went to see "The Artist", which I reckon is a minor masterpiece. I went along thinking this could be a real test of endurance but left absolutely enchanted. It's a love story, a romance and a comedy set in the 20s as the talkies are taking over the world. It's the story of George Valentin, a successful movie star who falls in love  with a film extra who goes on to be a hugely successful star in the talkies. He refuses to have anything to do with what he sees as a passing fad, and the film is the story of his slow but inevitable fall to the bottom.

It's a sexy movie with no sex. Just a few kisses. The moment they meet on set at the beginning and fall in love is beautifully done, and you know it's going to be a great night of cinema.

By the end, I was in tears, but tears of joy and happiness. It's a truly uplifting experience. If you are a dog lover this film has one of the best doggie performances you will ever see. He is called Uggie, a very suitable name for him too. He is a brave, funny wee dog, who deserves the doggie Oscar if there is such a thing, and if not one should be introduced just for him.

I've never heard of the lead actor, guy called Jean Dujardin, but he has a touch of Rudolph Valentino and Gene Kelly about him and a touch of genius. The lead actress  is South American, Berenice Bejo, and she is simply beautiful, and a fine actress to boot.

Go see this movie and if the ending doesn't leave you moved (maybe even to tears like me) I will give you a refund.

The night before I went to see the Sherlock Holmes movie with Robert Downey Jnr playing old Sherlock, though not so old of course. It's all fights and explosions and nothing like the Sherlock I remember from my youth. It's good to see Robert though looking in fine fettle and not at all like a jailbird. There is a very disturbing scene where Stephen Fry appears stark naked, with his great big fat belly hanging down...  just not good Stephen. Next time I see you on IQ I will have to  try not to think about it.

It's not a patch on the BBC version with Benedict Cumberbatch which is one of the best things on tele right now and definitely worth watching.