For Christianne

Here is another poem for your delectation. This one was written about my mother by Susan Maciver. The son she mentions is my brother Coinneach. I rather like this poem, so thank you to Susan for allowing me to post it on here.

FOR CHRISTIANNE

I am cutting her peats
Standing for hours in the sleety rain
Plunging the blade in the black mud moor
Down, jerk, up, down, jerk, up,
As once she churned butter on a summer's day.
I see white in the hair of her son's bent head
As his still strong hands lift the cold peat slabs.
Each has a hollow where his thumb has held.
The sky is grey, the gulls fly low.
Her kitchen is smokey, steamy-warm.
She opens the small stove door and thrusts
Another fibrous parcel into the dull red ash.
I like to see her there, moving lightly
From kettle to broth-pot to hot fire flames
Rearranging her patterns of spouts and handles and sticking up spoons,
Not shivering through a cold wet morning
Bowed with peat buckets in the wind and rain
While her old man weeps that he is weak and she an aged queen.

By Susan Maciver.

The poem was published in 1985 in a book called: No Holds Barred, an anthology put together by The Raving Beauties. I feel sure that my mother would be very impressed to know that this wee poem is now being read by people around the world. I am. Thanks again to Susan xxx

In the Botanics: Edinburgh

Here is the poem which I mentioned in my last post which Tom Pow wrote upon meeting Marian in the Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh. I rather like it:

An hour till dusk. The castle lodges its span
in the crook of a giant sycamore.
Through arteries of beech, the domes and spires
of the city turn to a scattered fan
of embers. I kick chestnuts from the path
and, like a bird scattering through the black
skirts of a rhododendron, forage back
into my past. That's when your airy laugh
calls me. Maria Angeles Huarte,
your daughters share spirits with the squirrels
they feed, dancing between silver birch light.
You yourself know the moment's poetry:
"See!" the sooty heron's labouring flight,
the cyprus where its wings stumble and curl.

Spanish Classes

I've been going to the same Spanish class for the past few years on a Tuesday night. I don't mean that it's been the same class repeated over and over again. That would be stupid.

I know lots of folk in Edinburgh go to classes but I reckon this class is different. Out teacher is called Marian and is Spanish, from near Pamplona I think, but now lives here with her family. I'm pleased to say that Marian has become a good friend. Her classes are not like any other classes I've ever attended. They are more of a social, cultural event every Tuesday night with some Spanish thrown in as a bit of a bonus. You would have to be there to appreciate it.

Like myself a lot of students come back every year as they too have become friends with Marian and each other. There is Neville, who is a bit of a mountaineer and has done all The Munros, twice, and also climbed in the Andes. For those who don't know, The Munros are all the mountains in Scotland over three thousand feet (914 metres). To do all once is impressive, but to do them twice is above and beyond the call of duty. I've climbed twelve of them, so only another 270 to go. Neville has promised to take me up one or two next year, so don't forget Neville.

Then there's Jean who is a Camino Santiago obsessive, and has walked most if not all of it and keeps going back. She likes to walk solo and meet people on the way. Jean also leads walking tours around Edinburgh's hidden gardens, which I plan to do with her next year. And then there's Anna, who is a potter and is very funny, and sometimes throws in a bit of French, just to confuse us all.

So this post is by way of a thank you to Marian for all the good times and fun over the years. It's a great class, and my Spanish seems to be coming on nicely too, thank you very much. I feel this post should have been written in Spanish. I will write a post in Spanish soon.

Marian has had a poem written for her by Tom Pow, who is one of Scotland's leading and best poets, which I rather like and will share with you. I'm sure Tom wont mind.

I see I now have a reader in Bolivia. I suspect I know who you are. So good luck Iain Macive over there in La Paz. I hope you make it to Cusco and Machu Picchu.

GIFTED

Here are a couple of photos showing the last minute arrivals at the Poetry Library exhibition of Edinburgh Book Sculptures. Will post some more pics tomorrow if I feel you all deserve it.

GIFTED- The Edinburgh Book Sculptures

I went to the Scottish Poetry Library on Friday to see the exhibition of miniature sculptures which were left at various venues around Edinburgh during 2011.  The first one was left at the Poetry Library in March 2011 and the last one in the same venue in November 2011, except that, much to their surprise another one arrived on the morning of my visit, which of course was causing much excitement and celebration. It had just been opened and was laid out on a table in the library as they had not had time to add it to the exhibition, which will end on eighth of this month anyway.

I was equally excited to be a wee part of Scottish cultural history in the making.... well almost. I'm sure you know what I mean.

The exhibition itself is superb. The sculptures were produced by a mysterious anonymous artist and they are beautiful, exquisite pieces all with a Scottish literary theme featuring various Scottish writers, old and new.

She, for I suspect the anonymous artist is female, though for no good reason, is obviously a fan of Ian Rankin, who is himself a big fan of RLS (especially Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde).The one that arrived on Friday features a poem from RLS, "To My Mother" : "You too my mother read my rhymes, For love of unforgotten times, And you may chance to hear once more, The little feet along the floor."

I believe all the pieces now go back to where they were originally left by the artist, such as the Writers Museum, Edinburgh Filmhouse, Edinburgh Central Library, National Museum and the Book Festival. And of course the Poetry Library, who now have three of them. Which I hope they will keep on display. So that would be best place to start for anyone wishing to see them.

I love the mystery surrounding these sculptures and I hope she (or he) keeps up the good work. I did think at one time I would like to know the identity of the artist, but I've decided that it's best not to know. Let the mystery abide.

Silver Linings Playbook

Excellent movie, very enjoyable, left the cinema on a high. Almost in tears half way through but definitely had tears of happiness at the end. It's all very embarrasing being reduced to tears but one has to let go sometimes,don't you think.

I'm listening to England doing over the All Blacks as I write this, and as one would expect the commentary is over the top. They're calling it the best England performance ever!

Anyway back to Silver Linings. Tiffany, played by a very beautiful and sexy Jennifer Lawrence decides to teach Patrick how to dance. He's reluctant at first but then goes along with her plan to enter them in some dancing competition. They're in her apartment and she turns on her ipod, and I thought to myself I know that tune, surely they're not going to dance to "Girl from the North Country". But they did, and it was beautiful, and I did feel a little tear form in the corner of my eye. Very moving.

For those of you who don't know the song it's a Bob Dylan song from his second album, "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan". The version they used is the one he did with Johhny Cash, where they duet and sing verse about. It sounded as good as it ever has. I still remember the first time I heard that album, and there are at least two of you reading this who were there at the time, way back when we were boys.

When I got home I went to play my copy of the CD but it's vanished. Who could have nicked it? Must be a very bad person. I've turned the place upside down looking for it today and it's definitely gone. Anyway it's on youtube if anyone wants to have a listen. You will need to search out the one with the video as there are lots of copies on youtube.

Robert De Niro was superb as the father. He's such a performer. I love it when he says "fucking". He says it like no-one else can. It's great to see him ageing so beautifully.

This movie is worth seeing for all the performances, but Dylan fans it's a must see.

England have won, so well done boys... and Chelsea going great guns... I don't think... wonder if what's his name will be there come new year.

The Pentland Hills seen from window, and the moon too

John Cairney at Central Library, Edinburgh