Tambien la LLuvia

I went to see this film on Saturday, Tambien la Lluvia (Even the Rain) and have to say its one of the best films I've seen in a long time. So thought I should tell you all about it as it's only on at the Filmhouse until Saturday 27th May. But if you're reading this in South America  you should buy the DVD, unless you get lucky and see it in a cinema. The film is exciting, truly inspirational and deeply moving. 

It was scripted by Paul Laverty, who usually works with Ken Loach, and tells the story of  the making of a film about the Spanish conquest and the first native rebellion against them in South America in Bolivia in 1512. But unknown to the producer and director the local actor they choose to star as the leader of the rebellion against the Spaniards is also involved in a real life  rebellion against the privatisation and takeover of their water supply by foreign capital, including a British company.

This modern day rebellion happened in Cochabamba, Bolivia in 2000 and the people won in the end. The film brilliantly manages to show how the  exploitation continues 500 years after Columbus by other means.

Luis Tosar was superb as the producer and Gael Garcia Bernal was excellent too as his director. But the stand out performance was from Juan carlos Aduviri as the native rebel leader. Here's a link to the trailer and more info

http://eventherain.com/

W.G.Sebald

There are some books you read which are so brilliant the experience is almost physical, indeed orgasmic if I may say. It doesn't happen a lot but when it does it's a rare feeling; a tingling sensation. Is that what an orgasm feels like? There are a handful of authors who can do it for me, and I'm sure you will all have one or two who do it for you. Some we save for special occasions; when a good book is life's only cure. I think I'm going to rescue the semi-colon from obscurity. It's not been used much by me recently; so just to show there are no hard feelings will use it in this post. I'm sure there are rules for it's use but if so I don't remember them.

I've been reading W.G. Sebald's book Austerlitz which is as good as or maybe even better than Rings of Saturn, which I think I've mentioned before. He's one of the best authors I've ever read; his death so young was a sad loss to the world of literature. I'm sure he would have gone on to the Nobel prize had he lived. He was killed in a car crash at the age of 57 in 2001.

Austerlitz is not about the famous 19th century battle of that name, but the name of one of the two main characters in the book, the other being Sebald himself in fictional form. Austerlitz came to the UK from Prague in the Kinder transport in 1939 and ended up living with a family in Wales. The book is the story of the various meetings between the storyteller and Austerlitz and how Austerlitz recovers his story and his family story under the Nazis. It's deeply moving and a work of genius.

As a writer Sebald is unique. There is no-one else writes quite like him. There are no paragraphs or chapters in the book; the text is interspersed with grainy black and white photos which act like breaks and are incredibly effective. The book reads like a true story, which it might as well be.

I recently went to the Filmhouse to see a film called Patience (After Sebald) which is based on his book The Rings of Saturn and was made by a Grant Gee. Superb film making. I can only repeat what Mark Kermode said about it in the Guardian "great triumph.... manages to bewitch, bother and ultimately bedazzle"; "quietly extraordinary movie".

It's now available on Amazon, but I would read the book(s) first, though Kermode says he still hasn't read any Sebald; his loss obviously. I'm very happy to have got to know this writer; it's thanks to Will Self, whom I heard talking about him some time ago, and he was full of praise.

And finally a joke.

Went to see a very good play at Lyceum Theatre on Friday, "The Lieutenant of Inishmore" by a guy called Martin McDonagh, born in London, parents Irish immigrants. The play is essentially a full frontal attack on Irish republican groups such as  INLA and the Provos. It amazes me that he still lives.

Apparently he couldn't find any theatres prepared to put it on when he wrote it back in the mid nineties. It was eventually put on in 2001 in a protected performance, whatever that means. The main character is a mad psychopathic ex INLA member who has to form his own splinter group as he's too extreme in his methods for the other madmen of the time.

He loves cats though, which proves his downfall. It's a darkly comic work, very funny and superbly acted by all the cast. Emer thoroughly enjoyed it too. The only woman in the cast was a fine singer who gave us a few old republican songs, e.g. Patriot Game. The provos must have hated it. Not the song, the play. A great night out. If it comes your way go see it.

Recently saw the Marley movie, which I might have mentioned before but no harm in mentioning it again. Needless to say it was a fine movie, lots of concert film, well worth seeing and a must if you're a Marley fan. Went with my pal Leighton, who is more of a classical type, but he enjoyed it a lot, or so he told me.

Also went to see "Salmon Fishing in the Yemen" which was quite an ok movie, funny in bits, and of course with our own Ewan Mcgregor in the lead role, whom I'm very fond of the boy. Love his accent, needless to say. But there's more to him than the voice. He's not the world's greatest but he's done some fine stuff over the years.  Kristin Scott Thomas is terrific as government PR woman, straight out of "In the Thick of it".

I had lunch with my old friend George the other day. He reminded me of an old joke, which he says he first heard from me about 20 years ago.

Did you hear about the dyslexic, insomniac, agnostic? He lay awake all night wondering if there was a dog.

Sunshine on Leith

I'm writing this on a Apple pc in the Virgin Lounge in Edinburgh centre. Just wanted to try out an Apple pc and what better way than to post on my blog. The Virgin Lounge is provided free of charge by our old friend Richard Branson and an excellent facility it is too. But only for Virgin customers which I suppose is fair enough. Free coffee, newspapers, pcs and iPads for all to use. Nice views of Edinburgh and very comfy chairs. I will definitely be coming back here. Thank you Richard. But Virgin is still a funny name for a business. I remember when you first started using the name, way back in the mists of time and thinking it woud never catch on. How wrong can one be? I do think we could do without your portrait though, fine painting that it is, it does seem a bit vain don't you think.

There would appear to be some cup final taking place in London today. Don't really mind who wins today as Hibs are playing in the Scottish cup final soon against Hearts, and that's the important one, obviously. Hibs haven't won the cup for over 100 years so we will all be getting right behind them. Is it not briliant that Celtic and Rangers are not involved? Yes of course it is.

I was just thinking that Hibs fans have the best song, "Sunshine on Leith". Written by our own boys from that Scottish institution The Proclaimers. Great boys and great songs.  I once sold a Socialist Worker to one of them. He used to live in my street, many years ago.

If you don't believe me about thier songs, have a wee look in youtube and I'm sure you will be convinced.  There is just no other football song to compare to it. Celtic have that dirge of a hymn from Liverpool that they have purloined, and Rangers sing about some Queen they need to save, and as for Hearts, who knows what they sing.

So lets hope "Sunshine on Leith" is heard worldwide later this month. If only for my pal Emer and all the other Hibs supporters who have been kept waiting way too long for some glory. The Proclaimers have a new cd out too.

Sun is shining on Edinburgh/Leith so better go and enjoy it while it lasts. Apple pc is rather cool. Maybe need to buy one? What as well as an iPad? Madness!

"Strangely Moving"

Days are nice and long here now in Edinburgh, but why is it still so bloody cold? Should be a law against cold weather after May begins.

My creative writing class is back in full swing now, and there are a few newcomers, though already some drop outs. We started term with fifteen but only nine turned up last night. It is different to other classes I've done as you just can't hide, and if you don't do the work there is no point turning up. So I guess folk just find it too much. I think it would probably be the same for me if I was working full time. Now should that be "was working" or "were working"? Or do both suffice?

My latest effort seemed to go down well with teacher. It's called Rivals, and he described it as "strangely moving" "very well observed and realised portrait" and "dialogue was believable and effect". So am pleased with that, especially as I set out to write a story using mostly dialogue between the main characters to tell the story. But it's hard work. Very hard work, but satisfying. The hardest bit is getting the idea for the story, but once I know where it's going I'm off with it.

It's not often that Scotland produces a world champion, and in Stephen Hendry we had one of the greatest snooker players of all time, seven times champion of the world. He's announced his retirement this week, so thank you Stephen, a fine champion indeed. Though obviously not as good as Alex Hurricane Higgins, who was the best of them all, but shame about all the fags and the drink. I remember watching him win the world championship in 1982 when he beat Reardon, who had beaten him in the final a few years previously. I saw the final on a big screen in a hotel bar which belonged to Chic Murray, and whose name now fails me. I was with my pal Paul, and we were the only two in the bar supporting Alex. We very nearly got lynched. Memories indeed.

That's all for now. Must go for a coffee in Cafe Nero, and finish my book.

Ben at Firhill Stadium, his dad behind him

 

Lunch with Ben before the game

 

Day out with Ben

Last week I had the considerable pleasure of going with Ben and his dad Garry to see their team Partick Thistle FC play at Firhill Stadium in Glasgow. Thistle are one of the lesser teams in Scottish football but with a long, proud and fine history. I see from their website that their two major honours were to win the Scottish Cup in 1921, beating Glasgow Rangers at Parkhead, of all places, and then in 1971 they won the Scottish League Cup beating Celtic in the final.


I had a great time with Ben and Garry. Ben is a fine young boy, aged 7, almost 8, and it's a privelege to be in his company. Thank you Ben and Garry, too, of course. Who knows, in years to come, when I'm long gone Ben might read my blog and be reminded of the game. The result was a draw but Thistle were the better team and deserved to win, I thought.

Before the game we went for lunch to a fine cafe in Dumbarton Road, I forget the name, and then the boys took  me for a walk along Byres Road, where I spent many days, and even more nights, many moons ago, or in the seventies to be precise, having fun and games and getting into various scrapes with Ben's grand dad, who just happens to be my wee brother, though not so wee, now or then.


I notice that Byres Road has it's own entry in Wikipedia, so if you want to find out more about that glorious street, thats the place to go.


Some of the old bars and cafes are still there, such as the Aragon, where drinkers used to queue in the street on a Friday and Saturday night to get in; and the Curlers up the road  full of BBC staff from the studio in Queen Margaret Drive getting pissed;  and Tennents Bar, where I worked for one night. And no, I was not sacked after one night, it was only a one night contract.

The University Cafe is still there down near the bottom of the street, still, presumably making the best bacon butties in Glasgow. A bacon buttie, for those of you from abraod, is a Scottish sandwich with bacon. Great for the Saturday morning hangover, not that one has these anymore, but the memory is pleasing to my senses.

Thats all for now. Tonight I'm going to see the Bob Marley movie, so really looking forward to that. It's had a very short release here in Edinburgh, one week only.

El Sueno del Celta

When I was in Peru last year Mario Vargas Llosa had just published  "El Sueno del Celta" ( The Dream of the Celt), which I'm looking forward to reading once it's available in English later this year. I don't think my Spanish is up to reading Vargas Llosa just yet, though I can make a reasonable stab at it. The book is based on the life of Roger Casement and his exposure of conditions for the people  the Peruvian/Brazilian/Columbian Amazon lands under Western imperialism and of course his life in Ireland and in prison in London before his execution. It will be interesting to see what Mario has to say about it all.

W.G. Sebald also writes about Casement, amongst many other things and people in his book " The Rings of Saturn" which I may have mentioned before in a previous postings, but who deserves as many mentions as he can get. People who know about these things say he would have gone on to be awarded the Nobel Prize had he lived. Sadly he was killed in a motoring accident in 2001.
He managed to write some truly great books before he died, including one called "Austerlitz" which I'm about to read, maybe will be my next book. I bought it last week and it's on the list. I'm currently reading "Arthur and George" by Julian Barnes, which seems to be based on a true story involving our very own Conan Doyle, who is the Arthur character. Lovely little number, thanks to Emer for the present.

Sebald also writes about Conrad and his upbringing and his eventual journey to the Congo as a sailor on a Belgian ship. A trip which became the source for  "Heart of Darkness". The Congo is the link to Casement who also went there and wrote a report for the British government about the conditions he found there, which were truly horrific. Ten million Africans are said to have been killed by the Europeans in what can only be desribed as an act of genocide. I don't think even Casement knew the extent of the brutality but he knew enough to know that he had to try to stop it. Of course the British government tried to suppress his report, as did the Belgians, who were the chief destroyers of that part of Africa.
It was at this time that Casement was sent off to South America. Just to get rid of him as he was a beginning to get on their nerves. They also gave him an honour, as he was awarded the CMG. another establishment ploy to silence individuals who are getting troublesome.

But they probably wished that they hadn't bothered sending him out to South America. He sent back reports on conditions in the Amazon areas of Peru, Columbia and Brazil, which were as bad if not worse than those he found in Congo. The only difference this time being that the company doing the exploitation was the Amazon Company, which was British owned and based in London. Whole tribes were wiped out of course and huge tracts of land destroyed in the search for profits.

The British government tried to silence him again by giving him another honour; he was given a knighthood and became Sir Roger. But he refused to compromise.

The rest is history as they say. He was hung by the British government for his support of the Irish republican cause. The prosecutor at his trial was an Ulster loyalist protestant called Frederick Smith, who was also the Director of Public Prosecutions. So the outcome was inevitable. And of course they used his diaries to divert attention away from all he said about the Congo, Peru, Brazil and Columbia.

Dreams of Dylan Thomas and Stalin

I suppose it's about time I wrote another blog post for this blog. Don't know where all the time goes. I'm having a break from the writing class as it's Easter holiday at Edinburgh University. So no stories getting written either. We go back to classes in a couple of weeks.

Meantime I've started going to a Spanish conversation group with an organisation called Yackety yak. We meet in various cafes round Edinburgh, such as Henderson's and Bia Bistrot and chat. One meets all sorts and one has to be careful what one says. I offended a royalist recently. Which was nice. In retrospect. But the practice is good for me. Need to keep at it as my other class is over until September and it's so easy to forget what I've learnt up to now.

I've been reading some more Roberto Bolano recently, amongst other things. He's a Chilean writer, who died in Spain way too young. I read his book "The Savage Detectives" some time back and it's one hell of a memorable book. Highly recommended, if you have the time and I would suggest it's a good idea to find the time.

He tells about being arrested by the military in Chile in 1973 when he was 20 years old, at the time of Pinochet's coup. If I remember correctly he was held for ten days in a gym which was being used as a temporary prison at the time, as the army ran out of room in the prisons. He found some English language magazine where he read an article about the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas.

That night he had a dream that he saw Dylan Thomas and Stalin in a pub where the customers usually played arm wrestling, but Thomas and Stalin were having a drinking contest, with Thomas drinking whisky and Stalin drinking vodka. He doesn't say who won, but I like to think that old Dylan won. He doesn't explain what the dream meant to him, or maybe he does in some other place in his writings.

I wonder if he knew Victor Jara or if he ever met him? I guess he must have done at some time. Jara was also arrested by the military in Chile in 1973. But he was less fortunate. He was a poet, singer, writer and guitarist. He was held in Santiago stadium, which I think has been renamed and is now called Victor Jara stadium, and as a special bit of torture the soldiers smashed his hands and fingers so he could no longer play guitar. But he continued to sing. They finally killed him but not before playing Russian roulettte with a gun held to his head, until finally a bullet was fired.

Many years ago my pal Iain MacDonald wrote a song about Jara which and his death in the stadium. I still have the album, though it sits unlistened to for many years as I don't have a working amp anymore. I often wonder what became of Iain? He was in the old Communist party for a while back then. I would love to see him again and see where life took him.

Thats all for now. More tomorrow.

Sixty Five Thousand or More

There have been 65,000 books published about the American Civil War since it ended in 1865, which is more than one a day, at the last count, and still rising. The War ended at a place called Appomattox in Virginia in case you ever wondered, when Lee surrendered to Grant. How many Americans have ever heard of it? I'm told not many, but maybe my sources are dodgy.

Lord knows who reads all these books, someone must or they wouldn't be published I guess. So if you are planning to write one beware of the competition.

One of the best, if not the best, not that I've read the other 64,999,  is a book called "The March" by E.L. Doctorow, which is a great read, and highly recommended. It follows Sherman's march through the South to the sea, which involved a fair bit of pillaging and destruction as they went along as well as a few mighty battles with the Confederates. The song "Marching through Georgia" will never seem the same.

Whole cities were burnt and ransacked and  the army got bigger and bigger as the freed black slaves and refugees followed along. Anyone with an interest in the history of the Civil War should read this book and if you're not you should read in anyway because it's beautifuuly written and a great story. Powerful stuff.
I didn't know until some time after I'd read the book that he had used Sherman's journals and diaries more or less verbatim in his account of the march. He takes you right in there into his psyche. Or so it seems.

I hope you all like reading about the books I read. I know some people must as there are still qiite a few readers around. I seem to have picked up a reader(s) in Honduras, Austria, Columbia and Greece, which is nice. Wish I knew who you all are.

Not much has happened this past week in Edinburgh. Teacher read out another of my stories last week, very strange feeling. I think I wrote my best one this week so am keen to see what he has to say about it. Though I don't think I'll be giving up the job anytime soon. Well at least not before next year.

Explico Algunas Cosas

This week I've been reading W.G. Sebald's book "The Rings of Saturn" which is a very fine book indeed. Difficult to describe but definitely worth seeking out. Originally published in German so probably now available in lots of languages. It's about a journey he made round the coast of East Anglia where he lived for twenty or more years. It's part fiction, part autobiography, part history, and reflections on imperialism and life in general. Very well written in translation.

Am also reading Alice Munro's book " The View from Castle Rock". The Castle Rock in question being Edinburgh Castle. She's known for her short stories which I recommend but this is more of a family memoir. Though I've only just begun it I know I'm going to enjoy it. She is distantly related to James Hogg, who wrote "Confessions of a Justified Sinner" and was also known as the Ettrick Shepherd, because that's where he came from and he was a shepherd as well as a poet and novelist. Alice Munro's family came from the same part of Scotland before they left for USA and Canada, in nineteenth century.

I'm reading The Essential Neruda, Selected Poems in Spanish with English translation, side by side. A fine book indeed. Reminds me a bit of Sorley Maclean in fact. He spent time in Spain, knew Lorca and joined the Republican movement.His poem "Explico Algunas Cosas" ( I explain some things) is based on his experience there.

"banditos con frailes negros bendiciendo
venian por el cielo a matar ninos,
y por las calles la sangre de los ninos
corria simplemente, como sangre de ninos."

That's it for today. Neruda is worth reading in the original Spanish if you can or in English translation. Go for it...

Dylan in Princes Street

Yesterday as I looked out my kitchen window it was raining in Morningside yet when I walked through to my bedroom, not a long walk I should add and looked the window there it wasn't raining. Which was strangely satisfying if not very interesting. I suppose the rain has to stop somewhere and as well to stop over my building as anywhere else. This morning The Pentland Hills were all covered in mist which has now cleared and the hills are looking fine as usual. I often think how lucky I am to have that view from my apartment, and to have been enjoying it for all these years. To have shared the view over the years has been fine too, but now it's all mine.

Am listening to the fine Janice Forsyth on the radio as has been my delight on a Saturday morning for a good few years now. She is my favourite presenter on the old BBC. She has a fine taste in music and does some great interviews. Now the bosses at the BBC have announced that they will be scraping her prog in the summer to make way for more sport and news, as if we don't have enough already. Let's hope they come to their senses and leave Janice alone.

I've been busy writing my short stories so not much time for my blog recently. It takes a long time to write a  story and teacher has us doing one a week. Just like being back at school except it's not really, if you know what I mean, Even less time for housework, which is a bit of a bugger or a pleasure, depending on how you look at it.

Yesterday I went to the recently renovated Scottish National Portrait Gallery with my young friend Fiona, whom I've known for far too long to be mentioned here, but thanks for reminding me Fiona. And what a brilliant job the renovators have done. It's now a superb gallery, to add to all the other galleries and museums we have here in Edinburgh. If you haven't been yet it's definitely worth a few hours of your time. I will have to go back as there is so much to see.

There's a special exhibition called The War at Sea which is all about the First World War as seen by Sir John Lavery,who was a kind of official war painter. All the paintings are from the area around Firth of Forth and North Sea. Mostly of sea battles and preparations for battles and defences. The paintings are on loan from The Imperial War Museum so won't be there for long. I recommend you see it, it's educational and surprising in many ways and the paintings are brilliant.

This is longer than it was meant to be but I must mention a video which they are also showing at The Potrait Gallery. It's called "Eriskay, a Poem of Remote Lives", which was made by Werner Kissling and is the first film to be made with a Gaelic soundtrack. Hugely nostalgic for me. The film can be found on the Scottish Screen Archive website if anyone is interested.

Finally imagine my pleasant surprise to see a photo of Bob Dylan, taken in Princes Street in 1966, when he was on tour that year and played Edinburgh. I think my big brother saw him on that tour,  but of course as he didn't play in Stornoway I missed him that time round. Bob is looking good as usual, and so very young and handsome. He adds something special to Princes Street, genius I think it's called.

A Short Story experience

Last week I had a short story of mine read out in public at a creative writing class I go to at Edinburgh University. This is a first for me.  I've been attending the class since the beginning of the year and these were the first efforts our teacher had asked us to complete. He told us to be prepared to have it read out to the class, but I was just not expecting him to choose my humble little effort. 


The first couple of weeks we did various different exercises building up to our first completed short story two weeks ago. He aims for a story a week, which is hard going I can tell you.

Having my story read out in public was a weird, strange, exciting, incredible experience. I can't really begin to explain how it felt. When I realised it was my story I just wanted to flea the room. But then thought oh well what the hell just got to go with the flow.

Our teacher used to be with the 7:84 Theatre Company and is now  lecturer in drama, so he knows how to do a public reading , which I think kind of helped. As he was reading it I kept thinking to myself did I really write this stuff?

Anyway I don't think it's a great story by any means and as he read it I thought that there were a few things I would change. But I don't think I will, as it's my first effort and I reckon it should be left the way it is. 

The teacher, Colin, wrote some constructive comments, and says it's a very good first effort. But I reckon he says that to all the boys, and girls, of course.

The End

To The Traverse Theatre on Saturday night to see The End which is based on Beckett story of the same name.

It was one of those theatre experiences that just sears into the brain to stay there forever. Totally unforgettable. I've seen lots of Beckett but I reckon this was just about the best I have had the privilege of seeing. Wish my wee brother had been there, as we've seen a few Becketts together over the years.

It's a one man performance, by an actor chappie called Conor Lovett. And he was immense. He made it sound as if he was making it all up as he went along. Perfect timing. As if he was struggling to find the right words.  Simply incredible. I have never seen anything like it before. You just had no sense of him having done this before or told the same story before or indeed that he was acting.

A magical performance. Totally believable. Lovett is just superb. I could hardly breathe half the time as I watched him seemingly struggle for the next bit he wanted to tell us. And of course he had Beckett's dark sense of humour to help him along. It was very funny in parts and of course deeply tragic.

I just can't praise Conor Lovett enough. I spoke to him in the bar afterwards as he was on his own for a bit. He lives in France with his wife, who directs him.  He was telling me that there is a Beckett festival in Cork, Ireland on St Patrick's day, 17th March, when he is doing Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnameable over 200 minutes, with two breaks. I'm very tempted to go.

If you ever get a chance to see him doing his Beckett, don't miss it. Unmissable. Satisfaction guaranteed.

"Aqui esta encerra el almade....."

One would think that a piece of music called "A Pastoral Symphony" by an English composer called Ralph Vaughan Williams, would be all about the English countryside and take you to the Cotswolds or some such place. But that's not the case. It comes in fact from his experience of the First World War in France, where he served with the Medical Corps having enlisted at the age of 41. The trumpet solo was tremendous, the best part of the evening for me. Incredibly moving.  His inspiration for this part came from hearing a French bugler practising his calls, when he was out on the ambulances.

It was the first piece played by Scottish Sinfonia when I went to hear them in Edinburgh recently. I don't often listen to classical music at home, but the live experience I really enjoy. Even though I mostly don't have much knowledge of it, I find it very uplifting, and inspirational, even if at times my concentration does begin to drift and I find myself in another world.

My pal George plays the cello in  the orchestra so it's really through him that I find myself at Scottish Sinfonia concerts. He's a fine cellist to boot. Thanks George, long may you bow that cello. Does one bow a cello?

The second piece for the evening was Elgar's Violin Concerto, which I enjoyed but found more difficult. Still the challenge was worth it. I think Elgar liked a bit of excitement in his love life and said about this work : Aqui esta encerra el almade..... (herein is enshrined the soul of .....) and admiited that the five dots stood for a woman's name, not his wife either. She was called Alice as was his wife, funnily enough.

Anyway a fine evening was had. ps the violin soloist was Daniel Bell, excellent he was too.  

Shame and Carnage and a Bit of Full Frontal

Must be time for me to write something on here. I see that quite a few readers are checking my blog most days so I guess I should give you all some reading material.

Here in Scotland the days are getting longer and brighter. This used to be my mother's favourite time of year and now it's mine too. The whole world seems so full of possibilities, it's good to be alive.

For those of you reading this in Peru or anywhere near the equator the idea of the days getting longer may not be an easy concept to understand. But trust me that's the way it is. As I look out my window in Edinburgh the sun is  still working away and I can see a thin pale sliver of a moon hanging over The Pentland Hills, saying goodbye to the sun as it decides it's had enough for the day and sinks into the western sky.

Best film I've seen this past fortnight was "Carnage". It's witty, funny and entertaining. The dialogue just sparkles along at a pace. Cristoph Waltz is just perfect. He has a way of looking with that cynical sneer of his which I just love, the film is worth seeing just for him alone. Jodie Foster is excellent despite what may have been said in various smart arse newspaper reviews. I will see it again on DVD.

"Shame" was thoroughly entertaining too but very different. Not many laughs. If you like your actors starkers then you are in for a treat, as Michael Fassbender gives us some full frontal nudity to keep us going for a while. With a name like that it's only to be expected I suppose.  He acts pretty good too. There's a tremendous version of "New York New York" sung by Carey Mulligan as the Fassbender character looks on, in tears, which luckily I was able to hold back this time. There's a clip on YouTube should anyone wish to hear her. Great film and definitely worth seeing.

War Horse with Lewis

Went to see the Spielberg movie War Horse with Lewis last Saturday. I guess it was inevitable that it would all end in tears. He knows how to manipulate the emotions does  old Mr Spielberg.

Actually the tears began well before the end, in fact a few minutes into the movie I could feel things welling up and soon enough the tissues had to come out. I wish I could cope a bit better with this kind of manipulation, but I'm afraid that's the way it is so just have to get on with it.

In fact the experience is quite cathartic if not even enjoyable.  I remember being reduced to a sobbing wreck by Toy Story 3, which I saw in Lima, though not too many people noticed, maybe because they were busy hiding their own tears. Hard to believe that a bunch of toys having a hard time could leave one so emotionally exhausted, but quite frankly it was a great movie and fully deserving of tears, of joy as well as loss.

Lewis seemed to enjoy the movie too and he also had a tear or two to hide. It reminded me of going to see ET with Iain and Anna way back in the early 80s. Both of them and their uncle Don were slightly overcome and Anna had to be comforted, quickly followed by Iain who had been putting a brave face on things by hiding under the seat. I think that was the day that Anna began to chant "Maggie Maggie Maggie Out Out Out" as she thought the cinema queue was the start of another anti Tory demo. If you are reading this in Peru you maybe wont get the reference to Maggie. Let me know if you want to know more about her and will maybe post something to explain.

For those of you who have not had the good fortune to have met Lewis he is my nephew Keith's son. I feel very privileged to be able to spend a little time with him. Thanks Keith. Lewis is brilliant company and keeps me entertained with his stories. I picked him up in Irvine last Friday and we drove to his grandparent's house, a journey of about one hour twenty minutes. He spoke non stop all the way there. I just had to make the occasional interjection and he just kept on talking. He even noticed himself that he had rather a lot to say, but he just kept on going. Amazing. He wanders from subject to subject as the mood takes him, one minute football, then school, then family stuff, then films, games, whatever takes his fancy. I just love him to bits.

He is doing a project for his school about the Second World War, so the movie maybe gave him an idea or two for that. I gave him some stuff I had from my father's world war 2 "archive", including one of his medals, to show in his project. Apparently Keith had always wanted one of these medals when he was a wee boy himself,  though I've no recollection of this. But I guess K would agree it's going to good use now. Lewis has promised to look after the medal and pass it on to his son some time in the future.

I have no idea how this posting got here from War Horse. If you are looking for a good movie to see I can recommend it... tears are optional of course.

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.

Hogmanay 2012

So that was 2011. This will be my last post for this year (obviously).

Thank you to all my readers for keeping up.

My blog has been viewed 1,134 times since I went to Peru in October.

Much to my astonishment I have readers from 14 countries. UK, USA, Peru, Russia, Bolivia, India, Philippines, Taiwan, South Korea, Netherlands, Germany, UAE, Sweden and Lativia.

I can guess who is reading me in most countries but some are a mystery. Which is good I guess. But would love to know who everyone is who is taking the trouble to read my ramblings. It's a shame so few of you like to comment on my blog.

Well nevermind, mustn't complain.

2011 has been an eventful year all round. 2012 will be my last full year of working for DWP, which for me is quite incredible, but there you are. Time flies. I plan to retire in March 2013. Unless the UK economy totally collapses of course and I have no money to pay for my travels.

I don't know what I'm going to blog about till I next go away. Any suggestions? I suppose something will come up, though whether or of any interest is another matter entirely.

For those of you who don't know, Hogmanay is what we call the last day of the year, here in Scotland. I'm sure the web will explain why, if anyone wants to know. And it's now 10 pm on Hogmanay in Edinburgh and I'm sitting here writing this guff. Changed days indeed. If its not raining I shall go out and watch the fireworks at 12 pm and then maybe call in for a celebratory noggin before bed. Such excitement........

MERRY XMAS

Merry Xmas to all my faithful readers.I'm now back in Edinburgh and all is well. Takes me a few days to get used to being home again. I miss all my friends and new family in Peru. I'm thinking of you all.

I don't usually keep this blog going when I'm in Edinburgh but I might now continue. Depends if enough of you read it.

I hope you all have a good day today wherever you are. I'm heading of out to be fed up in Wormit. I think it might be a houseful up there. It's near Dundee for those of you not familiar with Scotland. Dundee is Scotland's third city. It has a famous bridge, or did have until it fell down. There's a poem about it.

Must go now..... am late.... getting the Peruvian habit.... 

Bye bye Villa Maria

I trust you've all read my report on the party last night and enjoyed the photos I've posted.

This is my last night in Lima, at least for now. I hope to be back, unless of course the UK economy crumbles completely and I have to work for ever and a day. Lets hope not for all our sakes.

I shall miss all the kids of Villa Maria, and those at La Policia, though they are a bit different as I don't usually get to spend so long with them.

One of the boys in Villa Maria told me that Peru was my second home, and thats the way it feels at times. It's difficult leaving them all behind but I can't take them with me, so I've had to promise to come back some time soon. Jhon says he's going to miss me lot, and I'm going to miss him too, as I will all the kids. He's the boy in the photo with me and the nice young lady. He comes along with his brother Jairo and his sister, whose name has slipped my memory.

There are three other kids from same family who come along only occasionally. Cesar is the youngest of the three. I discovered that they are a family of eight and neither parent works, so there's no money coming into the house, which is why they don't come along, as it costs 15 soles a month to pay for their lunch at INABIF. This charge is new, in past year, but is a tiny amount. So to cut a long story short I decided to make a little donation to pay for them for the next three months, and Flor has agreed that if I pay for two of them the other goes free.

Last night was a very memorable night, will stay with me forever. I've rarely if ever felt so loved by so many at one time. It's a rare feeling. All these kisses and hugs. Which I guess is why a return trip is called for. What's the point in growing old in Morningside when I can get younger here in Villa Maria.

My knees are better now. Fortunately. So off to bed for some beauty sleep before my flightback tomorrow.

Party time

Party Time

Party Time in Villa Maria

The party with the kids of Villa Maria was one of the great parties of the century and one of the most memorable I've been to in many a year.

We had about thirty kids there, maybe more, I didn't count them, though Flor did keep a register of all who showed up. She counted them in and counted them out, so to speak. It was supposed to start at 5 pm but as is fairly typical here in Peru we didn't get under way until 6 pm. The kids seem to have followed the example of the adults and don't worry about showing up on time. This can be frustrating but you just get used to it, but never so used to it that you also turn up an hour late. But that's the way it is here.
The clowns were not so much clowns as childrens' entertainers. There were three of them all dressed up and they put on a great show for the kids, all of whom got involved in the fun. There was also a DJ who played us some great music. I've not danced so much since I don't know when. I was knackered and the knees were not much better. There was no place to hide though, so it just had to be done. I was dragged to my feet whether I liked it or not, by these girls. Such nice girls too. Muy divertido. My knees are suffering today though. Must get back to the gym in Edinburgh so that I'll be in good condition for next year's party!

All the kids were given a hamper of food and goodies at the end. Some guy, I guess from INABIF came along to present them. Another volunteer who was here until a few weeks ago, donated the money to pay for the hampers, which was a very good idea. They all got a panetonne in their hamper, which is very popular in these parts especially at Xmas time. Flor did a pile of work to organise it all and I'm so pleased to have done my little bit too. And of course Flor had to go and make a speech thanking me, made me feel like some kind of visiting dignatary and like all good dignataries I had to reply. My little speech went ok, and I feel real pleased with myself, but it's not easy, and of course i had no time to prepare, or failed to find the time to be more accurate. Still well done me. And thanks to to Marian for your contribution. I'm sorry but I forgot to mention you in my little turn.

I'm off out for dinner now, for my last feed in Lima, this time round....

Bus to Villa Maria

The bus journey from Miraflores to Villa Maria takes about forty five minutes and is always an adventure in itself. Yesterday the driver is going flat out as usual, then braking hard at every stop. Absolutely no consideration for passengers, old or young, blind or disabled. It's all the same to him, there being no women drivers, at least none that I've noticed.

Meantime fat guy sitting across from me is sound asleep, with his fat tummy sticking out of his red shirt and his head rolling about onb his fulsome chest. Manboobs I think they are called nowadays. He wakes with a start when the bus does a vicious swerve and comes to a very sudden halt. Then he gets off. The woman in front is banging her head against the window as she is also sleeping. In fact half the bus seems to be asleep, including the woman beside me.

We have constant entertainment on board. A couple of kids come on, brother and sister I think. He plays some kind of home made instrument and sings, meanwhile she dances in the aisle and sings along with him. How she doesn't end up flying through the window is a mystery, she has great balance and control, and is about nine years old, and is a beautiful wee girl. After they finish the performance she goes round the bus selling sweets (caramelos I think she calls them) from a large bag which suddenly appears in her hand. A few passengers appreciate her performance enough to buy some sweets. Such enterprise has to be applauded. They are probably earning the family dinner.

There are always people jumping on board to sell something, ice cream, drinks, glue, anything really that can be carried on board, Some of them make a long speech explaining how poor they are and how the money will be used, and praying to God at same time. It's great entertainment.

And there is alwys a soundtrack blaring out. Yesterday we had Freddy Mercury and the rest of the boys from Queen, doing the old Fandango song, followed by Dire Straits getting their kicks for free and then guess who, yes it's Robbie singing about his angel... incredible... though it's not always music from home, they do play Peruvian chart stuff too, like Shakira and that mad woman from USA, whose name I forget but might be Britney.

And the driver belts along as if we are all in a hurry to get there. There's a big picture of Christ hanging up behind him, looking down and watching over us. So we feel very safe. The bus is hot and the traffic is dense. I know Villa Maria is close as the smell of the fish market (pesquero) fills the bus. Thats my stop, my ticket is to el pesquero, and it costs just 1 sol 50 centimos. We are driving along Av los Heroes, but I'm not sure who the heroes are. Maybe from wars with Chile in century before last. Should ask someone.

The journey is never without excitement. Nothing like it back home. You would be thrown off.

Julio

That penultimate post obviously has a spelling mistake. Not deliberate either.  His second name is Julio and not Julia, he's obviously not a girl. Sorry Eberth!!!

We bought a book for him too for his Xmas. I'm trying to encourage him to read a little bit, Not easy to choose a book for him though, but after some consideration and discussion we decided on Paulo Coelho's little book "El Alquimista". Managed to find a hardback copy with some nice prints. So lets hope he gets down to reading it.

I'm tired and need to go to bed now, early start tomorrow for La Fiesta en Villa Maria. I'm so excited. Lets hope the clown is up to expectations. Lets hope Flor found one.

Trotsky comes to Villa Maria

Today is Sunday and I spent it with Heber, hence the photos. He changed tops half way through the day as we bought him this top, amongst lots of other stuff for his Xmas. He doesn't expect to be getting any other presents, though I feel sure he must be getting something from his aunts. No sign of mum or gran getting in touch. They will all get together for a turkey dinner in the house of one of his aunt's. He is in process of moving, as one aunt leaves for Iquitos in January.

He does like to pose just a little. He likes to post my fotos on his Facebook, for some reason. Though I think I can guess why.

He now has his DNI, of which he decided to give me a copy. Hence the name change, as it is different from what he thought it was. Which I guess says a lot about his life so far. Anyway his real name is Eberth Julio Vega Huamán. I'm not sure which he wants to use, his real name or one he has used up to now, though he has used more than one in the past. I'm going to use his proper name from now on, and he has no objection.

Tomorrow I'm going to the Xmas party for the INABIF kids in Villa Maria, so I'm looking forward to that a lot. I think I'm expected to make a speech, in Spanish obviously, God help them all. Will have to attempt to prepare something later on tonight, but I suspect I won't get round to it. Oh well, nothing changes. Maybe I'll tell them about Trotsky or something equally inspirational......  

Eberth Julia Vega Huamán

Heber

Pacific Sunset

Planes, and taxis and presidents

I don't think I've ever been on a plane out of Cusco which left on time. So yesterday we departed one hour late, after a somewhat chaotic wait in a queue in the airport. One guy managed to lose the plot altogether, and was ejected from the queue, but he may have been pissed and in the wrong place. This time round it was a local causing the fracas, unlike last time when our US cousins were responsible. Still Cusco airport is a lovely wee airport and well worth the hassle.

I was sitting beside a loving couople, she snoring and he sipping on a couple of large whuskies. one at a time of course. Johnny Walker Red Label is very popular in these parts. I think the last time I had a Johnny Walker was in Byres Road in Glasgow, some many years ago, amd probably with one of my many readers. I seem to recall a few wee nips being consumed in those distant times. Ahhh memories indeed. Anyway she stopped snoring when I spilt my drink over her new dress. No I didn't really, just joking.

The wait is always worth while because of the view of the Andes and the adrenalin rush a we fly right into the mountains, hoping that the pilot is not drunk or dosing on the job, and remembers where he is. It's a truly beautiful sight and always inspiring. I have a couple of videos of the flight into Cusco, which I will eventually put on YouTube, if and when I get round to it.

Then very quickly the plane is flying out over The Pacific to begin it's descent into Lima Airport, always a pleasure to see the old Pacific, if only for the relief of having made it out of the Andes safely. I feel like an old hand now flying into Lima airport. It hardly seems like being in a foreign country at all. I mustn't get over confident though, must keep on ones toes.

Francisco was waiting for me at the airport as always in his battered old van, which he describes as an airport taxi. He's a nice old guy, maybe a year or two older than me. His driving has become increasinly erratic over the years. Like all "good" drivers he blames the others. Today he started a shouting match with another particularly bad driver, and I though dear me here we go, a wee fight. Fortunately the other guy did a right turn and we were free. Francisco apologised for his shouting, and I told him it was fine by me. We arrived safely in Miraflores without any further dramas.

He seems to have modified his views about  President Humala, who has just completed his first six months in office. Last time he was pretty down on him, but now he seems to think that he's not doing too badly and is willing to give him a chance. Humala has problems mostly caused by those around him, including his vice president who is caught uo in some corruption scandal. So what's new? He also has an "assessor" who used to work for Lula in Brazil, when he was President. I don't think this goes down to well with the right wing press. But it's hard to follow quite what is happening, but I think so far so good, with reservations.

Lima is hot. It's Saturday so I think I'll put on my blue suede shoes and head off out, not forgetting my sun block. More later maybe......

Last post from Cusco

Its Thursday morning here in Cusco and it's my last day. I've not been to work this morning so hope all my boys are doing ok. I will miss the lot of them. It's not easy sometimes listening to their sad stories and I often wish I could do more to help them. I will as usual remember them all and think about them and their future lives. The lucky ones will find a good orphanage to settle down in and maybe their lives will be totally transformed. One can but hope.

I'm sitting in Maximo Nivel as I write this and wondering if I'm going to be able to come back here. I sure hope so but will have to wait and see what transpires over the next year or so. Maybe Peru will be a better place to live in than Europe, if the economy there goes down the pan, never to come back up again, if its not already done so.

The statue of Túpac Amuru (see my foto) is in The Plaza de Armas, and is new since I was last here. The fountain was always there but he wasn't. Or at least not as far as I can recall, though memory does play funny tricks on one as one gets older, not that I'm old of course.

Túpac was the last leader of the Incas and lead the last battle against the Spaniards. The Incas lost of course and Túpac was beheaded in the same place as his statue now stands. Or nearby. His last words are said to have been " Mother Earth witness how my enemies shed my blood." The Spaniards had of course tried to convert him before killing him. He obviously resisted their invitation.

I'm off for my final feed at Granja Heidi, so see you all in Lima, where I'm heading tomorrow.

Higg's Boson

Tomorrow will be my last day in Cusco. I feel I've only just arrived. Do these guys searching for the Higg's Boson thingee know how to slow down time, now that they've managed to go faster than the speed of light? I'm no physicist but maybe if there's one reading this, and I know of at least one, then you could let me know?

Ken, the owner of Maximo paid a surprise visit to La Policia de La Familia today, which was nice. He has lots of plans to try to improve things there for the future. He hopes to send more volunteers, maybe two in the mornings and two in the afternoon. He's also going to spend some money improving the place, e.g. new mattresses, painting, new chairs etc

Don't know if I mentioned about Pedro the boy aged seventeen who was lifted on Saturday for being drunk. He smashed the one and only wash hand basin to bits whilst drunk and has no recollection. He was told that he could not leave until his father paid and replaced the basin. Well you can imagine his delight when Ken told him that he would replace it and arrange for one of his workers to come in to do it.

I'm so pleased that something is being done for the kids there, and even more so that Maximo are doing it. So well done Ken.

Must go now, will try to post once more tomorrow before I leave here.ps why is it called a boson?

Quotes

"But something had frightened her or disappointed her, or perhaps the rigour of being a god botherer had turned her bottom into stone."

"She was a masculine German with a metallic accent and an imperious gaze that had no relationship to her puerile passions."

Don't you just love it when a sentence comes together in perfection? The first woman is a possible future mother-in-law and the other one is a busybody nun type.

One quote is from Peter Carey and the other is Gabriel Garzía Máquez. Think you can guess which is which? And have you ever know such women? Were there not a few in Lewis with the bottoms of stone? and looking a bit masculine and Germanic even? Tell me now if you've ever met any?

Granja Heidi with the blue shutters

Túpac Amaru

Reading in Peru

I finished reading "Parrot and Olivier in America" some time ago and it's another minor masterpiece from Carey. The main chareacters are unforgettable narrators of their respective stories, and provide a brilliant account of postrevolutionary France and America. Great stuff, very funny, brilliant imagination, huge amount of research and knowledge, as always with Carey. Just a terrific read and well worth the effort. Not sure which I prefer, this one or "The True History of the Kelly Gang", so why not go for both.

Since then I've finished reading "The Reader" by Bernhard Schlink, which has been on my agenda for some time now, so I guess it was about time I got round to it. It's also a great piece of writing, which sure makes you think. I just did not expect that ending. It was quite troubling I thought as he plays with your emotions something rotten. I will have to watch the movie now, see what they make of it, but doubt it can be a match for the book itself.

I recently read "Fateless" by Imre Kertesz, which also deals with the holocaust but from a totally different perspective. More like Primo Levi's books, but better I think, if one is allowed to say such a thing. I have the DVD of the movie at home and keep meaning to watch it, but never quite got round to it. It's a suberb piece of writing, incredibly moving and based on his own expeiences of life in Auschwitz and Buchenwald, where he grew up and became a man. Kertesz was awarded the Nobel Prize a few years back for his work, and well deserved it was too.

I've also read "The Yacoubian Building" by Alaa al Aswany, which is set in Cairo and taught me a lot about life there. " when your house has collapsed and the government has left you sitting with your children in a tent on the street , when the police officer has insulted you and beaten you .......... then you will know why we hate Egypt". I also read "The Siege" by Helen Dunmore, and thoroughly enjoyed it, thanks Gayle for the recommendation. Not quite as unforgettable as that other Anna, but well worth the effort. But you need to read Anna K. I hope Iain has got round to reading the copy I gave him this summer. Well have you Iain?

I gift all my books, well most of them, but not Roth, whose  book "The Humbling" I've also read, in fact I think I read it on the flight over here, to my pal Daniel in Cusco. He loves his books and his English is first rate, so he is able to read all my stuff. He's a teacher of English in one of the local schools here. In return he has given me "Love in the Time of Cholera" to read. It's even better than "One Hundred Years of Solitude" though it's many years since I read it and maybe a reread is due.

All for now.

Stoke City for Champions League

Another mighty victory for Stoke City today. That puts an end to Spurs unbeaten run. Next year the boys will play in the Champions League, I have no doubt. Someone will have to sort out these Spanish teams, don't you think. Can Barca or Real handle our long throws and the lanky boys upfront? No, exactly, I don't think so.

For those of you who don't know, the reason for my love of Stoke City is the three splendid, unforgettable years I spent there in the sixties, when Stoke were in the old first division, though I do recall some relegation fights  which caused some serious annoyance in the pub where I used to work.

Quite often on a Saturday morning Gordon Banks and I used to go to the same cafe in Stoke centre, near the old Victoria Ground, he to prepare for his game and me to prepare for whatever the day may bring. I suspect he fancied the waitress behind the counter. For those of you who don't know, he was the world's greatest goalkeeper at the time, and in fact probably the greatest ever. He seemed like a very friendly bloke with his funny eye and all.

And Stan Matthews was one of the best players ever. I just missed his fianl season in 1965. I once saw a friendly between Stoke and Rangers. I can't remember the result now. Stoke probably won.

So there you have it.

Donkeys' willies

Yesterday was a very busy day at La Policia, with twelve kids there. And we were blessed with a visit from some missionaries from USA. They told me that they work with some orphanages and seemed to be looking for recruits for said orphanage. Guy told me " we are particularly interested in these three boys".... which seemed a strange way to put it. I pointed out that the boys future was decided by a judge in the court, and due process etc (well didn't quite say due process, but you know what I mean). I guess he has their best interests at heart, but I can't help wondering if their time would not be better spent back in the USA, where I feel convinced there are plenty of the unconverted types to assist on the road to salvation. Still good luck to them.

After they had left I spoke to the three boys in question. They are all shoe shine boys working in La Plaza, and are in touch with other organistions working with street kids. They were a cheeky bunch of boys and very lively. I got them drawing and they found it really hilarious to draw donkeys with big willies. What laughs we had!!! I was wishing the missionaries had seen the donkeys, which were indeed impressive and well drawn. They do have some talent.

I see Man U are back to winning ways at last.... shame about Champions League and Vidic being out for rest of season, but I reckon the boys are good enough for the league again... I will support Arsenal in Champions league, but only for this once mind, this is a big big concession I'm making for you Arsenal fans, especially for you Lewis....and for old man Wenger, I think he deserves it... but the Spaniards are looking good ...

Shaman Shopping

Paper seller in Cusco

Dia de la Purísima Concepción

Today is a national public holiday in Peru so no-one goes to work, or so I'm told. The teachers here in Maximo have a day off so I've no Spanish class today, which gives me a few minutes to update my blog. Apparently Peru has the highest number of public holidays in the whole of South America, mostly of a religious variety.

I of course went to work as usual  at La Policia which was busy with six kids. Sorry to relate that Romiro arrived back this morning. He had been sent to stay in an orphanage, Jesus mi Luz, which I know, and is one of the best I've seen. However his stay didn't last long. He escaped through a window and was picked up by the police doing a spot of thieving. Not sure of what variety but doesn't really matter. This is the boy who wants to be my son, so I'm doubly disappointed in his return to La Policia. I've tried to speak to him but I don't think much gets through. He's an orphan, doesn't know his parents and does not want to live with his grandmother. Will have to see how things work out for him, but the future does not blossom with promises.

We had two brothers aged three and five there yesterday, abandoned by drunken parents. They both cried and screamed a lot, but we got them calmed down and eventually I walked them along to their medical, ably assisted by one of the policewomen. All the kids at La Policia get a medical. The centre is only two blocks away. The boys were quite happy when I left and I've no idea what became of them. This happens with lots of the kids here of course.

Two of the other boys, Julio and Kevin, have also been sent to Jesus mi Luz, and they have been asking for me to visit them. I will try to do so before I leave Cusco next week, but time is short.

Student demo and Cusco Cathedral

Today we had a students demonstration in Cusco which was quite impressive. I watched the start of it as I set off for work and when I got back into town for lunch they were still protesting. As far as I can make out they were protesting over a fare increase on the buses or combis. I've heard that some combis were spay painted during the demo, whilst full of passengers. All the buses belong to private companies. I also heard that some stones were thrown , but that may just be a rumour, put about by the companies. Go good luck to all you students in Cusco.

Today was also national police day here in Peru, so the Plaza de Armas was taken over for the celebration. Which I guess is why the students could not get into the Plaza. I was only there for a few minutes to watch the proceedings as I passed by on my way to lunch. There were lots of police, of all kinds on show and parading round the Plaza, and taking lots of applause from the onlookers. Also all the high ranks up there in front of ther cathedral trying their best to look impressive and important. The dog team were there parading with their dogs, some of whom could walk on their hind legs and were maybe even doing a little dance to the marial music. Police on horseback showing off how they could stand up straight on their horses backs, whilst taking a salute. One does feel so safe....

I took a tour of Cusco Cathedral on Sunday, as I'd not been since my first visit here. The place was built on top of an Incan Palace, from 1550 and took a century to complete. One of the altars is made of solid silver, and there's lots of gold to be seen too. There's a painting of the Last Supper, by a guy called Marcos Zapata, which features a cuy (quinea pig) as main meal. I don't actually know what the Last Supper main dish was, it could have been cuy for all I know.

As one would expect there are lots of Saints one can pray to. Saint Antoni of Padua is partcicularly interesting. He's the guy that women can pray to when they are looking for a husband, and he seems to oblige. Apparently some women have little icons at home, which they keep upside down and once a week turn him right way up to remind him of his duties. Or maybe they just turn him upside down once a week. Notes are left for him in the cathedral, and indeen I could see some, and was very tempted to have a look. Some are thank you notes for work well done by Antoni.

There's also a Senor de los Temblores, or lord of the earthquakes, who is a black Christ figure in the Cathredal. I can't remember how he turned black, maybe from candles, I don't know. Cusco was struck by a huge earthquake in 1650 which destroyed most of the city and left thousands dead. There's a painting of the earthquake happening in the Cathedral which shows the Plaza as it was then and the buildings falling down, explosions and slates falling off roofs.

They also have on display the first Cross brought over by the conquistador Pizarro and his Spanish pals and used to convert the natives to christianity or maybe I should say to terrify them into believing.

Ají de Gallina

Santa behind bars in Cusco

Sex education in Peru

There is a huge need for sex education in these parts, especially out in the countryside. I was told a story by one of the workers in the international office here in Maximo about how she was working out in some schools in the countryside and doing some sex education. She decided to get the adults in to give them some lessons too. She was demonstrating how to use a condom, using a brush handle, as one does when pushed, and they all seemed to get the hang of it. So she went back a few weeks later to see how things were going, and yes they told her they were all using condoms now and yes they seemed to be working. But I'm sure you can guess how they were using them. Yes, lots of brush handles were taking the necessary precautions. This is a true story, I'm told.

On a quite unrelated matter, I meant to say thanks to Marian, my pal and Spanish teacher in Edinburgh. Thank you for your donation to the kids of Villa Maria. It will go towards their Xmas party. The books you lent me have gone down well in La Policia de la Familia. The kids love reading them, especially "No Te Rías Pepe" and "El Gallo Quirico". They've been well liked by the boys and girls here and they love to read them out loud, even the ones with the poorer reading skills. I wish you could have seen the look on Jerson's face when he realised he could do it. It was a picture of happiness, brought tears to my eyes. I guess they don't often get anyone to sit down and read with them. They also like to draw all the characters, so thanks again, you have done your little bit for these kids.

Granja Heidi restaurant was even more busy than usual one day this week, when we had a delegation of about twelve folk arrive from the World Youth International. Not one of them looked a day under thirty, reminded me of the Scotish Youth Parliament, which once had K as it's chair and he must have been 25 or even 26 at the time. So if these guys from WYI are youths then I'm just a young man.

I was in a taxi this week and thought I recognised the song he was playing, which turned out to be The Doors song "LA Woman", it having been a long time since I heard it I was quite pleased to be reminded how great a band they were. Had a chat with the taximan about old Jim and he knew all about him, including his burial in Paris,though the name of the cemetary escaped me and him. But you all know where I mean, some of you have even visited, though I hope not defaced it like so many do. I think all my Doors albums are on vinyl, maybe I should do something about that.

Sunday morning in Cusco

Another beautiful sunny day in Cusco. Wonder what the temperature is? Must be quite high, well into 20s I would say. So will have to go out and enjoy the sunshine. It's Sunday morning and sitting in Maximo, which is surprisingly empty right now. I think everyone goes out on Saturday nights to discos and such like and they don't get home till dawn or later even. Ahh well nowadays I prefer the early night and early rise, to enjoy the early morning pleasure of Cusco. Too many earlies in that last sentence, but what the hell.

Speaking of good English reminds me that my Spanish is coming along nicely. One day I hope to be able to write in Spanish for this blog. I could do so now but it would not be good for those of you who are not privileged to speak that fine language, and it would not be good for the native Spanish speakers to see their language messed about by me. But one day I will try. I'm by no means fluent but I can hold a good level of conversation so long as people speak nice and slow for me. 

I was out with my pals Fernando, who comes from Lima, and Ricardo who is Brazileno, from Sao Paulo, and neither of them speak English, but was able to survive for three hours or more, with a little help from them, so felt quite pleased with myself. Sao Paulo is the biggest city in South America, and apparently, according to Ricardo has a bigger population than all of Peru. But I've not checked his facts. Anyway Sao Paulo is huge and I hope to visit it someday soon, once I've finished with DWP.

Lima is the biggest city in the world built on a desert, although maybe Cairo is bigger. Who really knows? Fernando says Cairo is bigger but  Wikipedia says the reverse.One region of Peru, called Loreto, mostly  made up of forrest, is bigger than Germany and France combined. So Peru is a big big place and most of it sparsely populated.

Cusco from above

Deplorable

Some things happen that really piss me off, and getting pissed off does my pressure no good, but sometimes you just can't help it.

I was at La Policia yesterday morning with Amy who is in charge of the volunteer work here at Maximo Nivel, and a lovely pesron too. She's the Hearts fan, but nothing wrong with that, I say. She had come along to see the project and to work out how else Maximo could help. I think they have decided to start sending food along every morning for the kids breakfast.

I was just introducing her to all the kids and showing her how we spend our time, when in walks this group of primary school age kids accompanied by their teacher and a couple of cops. There were about 20 of them and all dressed up in their immaculate uniforms and crowded into our room which is quite small and dominated by the kids bunk beds etc. In fact not a very nice place at all.

So the teacher begins to tell her kids, that this is where all the bad boys are brought when they have done bad things etc etc. It was like bringing a gang of kids to the zoo. The boys just stared and like us could not believe it. I looked at Amy and could see she was none too chuffed. It took all my willpower to restrain myself from saying something to the idiot teacher.

I'm still angry when I think about it. These kids have been given a seriously poor start in life and to be used like this is quite deplorable. I really felt for my kids. Most of them are either abandoned by their families or ran away from the abuse they suffer. Few of them have ever done anything worse than I'm sure that bloody teacher did in her life.

I better not say anymore about it for now. More posts tomorrow.

Quiero ser tu hijo

Romero hadn't been getting involved very much at La Policia for the past few days, he's been there for five days, so I've spent four days working with him. While all the other kids like to draw and read and stuff like that, he just wanted to mess about, nothing bad but nothing constructive either. But we'd got on well and he always seemed very pleased to see me.

Today when I arrived he told me he wanted to read with me, so as soon as I'd got the other five kids doing something I sat down with him and he read the whole bloody book with me, aloud. He reads well, not perfectly, but as good as most of these kids and was so happy with himself. He just wanted to read and read. Then he took me completely by surprise when he decided that he wanted to draw, having told me all week that he didn't like to draw and that he couldn't do it anyway. In fact it turns out that he's very good at drawing and colouring.

I was so pleased for him, and that he was joining in. He did tend to snatch the pencils he wanted from the rest of them, but after a few words of encouragement and a request for a bit of "tranquilo" he was fine.

A few minutes later he came up to me and giving me a big hug he told me "quiero ser tu hijo" , I want to be your son. Hard to know what to say to that. I was quite taken aback and a little bit upset for him. But I guess it's as big a compliment as I could get, by way of a thank you. And he meant it too.

It's been a busy week at La Policia. There's only one girl there just now. She's a lovely 14 year old who gets beaten up by her step father and then dumped at La Policia by her mother. I've been chatting to her quite a bit and encouraging her to make a report to the police and get him charged but her mother discourages her. I hope she can go to live with her real father which is what she wants.

We were chatting about her education and bits like that. She goes to school in the morning and then to an academia in the afternoons. You can imagine my surprise when it turns out the she is studying karate. So I told her about my tai chi classes and it turns out that she does tai chi too at her academy. She hopes to have her own school one day and teach karate and tai chi. Lets hope she gets all her desires come true. She deserves it and more. I didn't like to ask her if she fought back against her step father with some karate kicks. Lets hope so, or maybe not. But you do just wish that some one would. Maybe Rick could come to sort him out. Rick is my tai chi professor. btw.

Must go hunger calls. Will post more soon.