Lincoln goes straight into my list of all time favourite films, maybe even to the top of the list, it really is something special. It is a brilliant, brilliant movie and right now I can't think of any that have given me so much pleasure on so many levels. I will obviously need to see it again just to be sure I did witness something great, but it needs to be seen twice anyway, it's so good. You just don't get that much pleasure out of cinema that often so it would be a sin not to take full advantage of it.
Daniel Day Lewis' performance is one of the greatest acting performances I have ever had the pleasure of watching. I can't think of any other performance that was quite so powerful, so convincing, so overwhelmingly, astonishingly extraordinary. He just is Lincoln, and you just believe in him. We are seeing two great men on screen, Day Lewis the actor and Lincoln. You just know that Lincoln was exactly as Day Lewis portrays him, you feel you have to believe, and I sure do.
The voice is incredibly well done, his walk, his stooping gait, the way he holds himself, drops his head, and then you see him age right in front of your eyes. Extraordinary. How he does it is a mystery, which is I guess just how it should be. His relationship with his wife, whom one time he calls Mrs Lincoln , when they argue about their son going off to war and are both grieving for their younger son, is beautifully portrayed. As is his relationship with various congressmen, especially Tommy Lee Jones who gives a great performance as the radical socialist politician, Thaddeus Stevens. Their is one scene with the two of them which I found very convincing, and had to take Lincoln's side even though he was asking Stevens to compromise. We don't know until the actual day of the vote on the thirteenth amendment if he does or not, but during the debate he Tommy Lee Jones delivers one of the best put down speeches you will ever see.
That's enough about this movie for now. Go and see Daniel Day Lewis deliver a towering performance, one of the best you will ever see. Thank you to Spielberg for directing his best ever film. I think back to the day many years ago when I took Iain and Anna to see ET, so I'm hoping they will both now see this film and maybe think back to that day, and wonder and be amazed at how far you have come.
And incidentally it's not often I disagree with the Good Doctor, but he gives Lincoln only three stars, or maybe three and a half at most, and he makes Zero Dark Thirty his film of the week. Just so wrong Mark, I hope you and I are not going to fall out over your reviews, which recently have been just not up to scratch.
It's a shame for Tarantino that Lincoln is out at the same time as his film Django Unchained, which I saw a few days before and thoroughly enjoyed. Totally different kind of movie, both dealing with slavery but in very distinct ways. Tarantino is back to his best with this movie, as good as his early stuff, which is a relief all round, as couldn't put up with more of the Kill Bill variety. As one would expect, lots of blood is spilt, but very tastefully done and always seems justified, or almost. Christoph Waltz gives a tremendous performance, and is rapidly becoming one of my favourite actors. If you haven't seen him in Carnage, you should do so. Great performance.
Anyway thats all for now. I've been taking a short break from my blog for past few weeks but will be back to regular posts now. Hope you didn't miss me too much and sorry if you've been looking for non existent posts recently. Back now and with more news later.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Tuesday, January 01, 2013
Feliz Año Nuevo, Happy New Year, Bliadhna Mhath Ur
Happy New Year to all and thank you all for reading this blog over the past year. I would love to know who you all are though. This past week I've had readers in Russia, South Africa, Malaysia, Germany and Brazil as well as the usual suspects. So hope you all had a good New Year wherever you are.
I did go out last night to watch the Edinburgh fireworks bringing in the New Year. I joined a few hundred others in the Botanic Gardens which provides a good view of the castle with no crowds to push one around. Too old for that. Do any of you remember going to bring in the New Year at the Tron many years ago. More than twenty as yesterday was the twentieth anniversary of the party in Princes Street. The Tron festivities were wild and rowdy and very very drunk. Best forgotten.
The fireworks were shiny and bright, and noisy too, and lasted for about twelve minutes by which time my hands were frozen with holding my camera. Will post a couple of photos for your delight.
That's all for now. Some of you will have been sent two emails over past few hours. This was due to a glitch with my lovely assistant getting confused and deleting stuff by mistake. Sorry for any inconvenience caused.
I did go out last night to watch the Edinburgh fireworks bringing in the New Year. I joined a few hundred others in the Botanic Gardens which provides a good view of the castle with no crowds to push one around. Too old for that. Do any of you remember going to bring in the New Year at the Tron many years ago. More than twenty as yesterday was the twentieth anniversary of the party in Princes Street. The Tron festivities were wild and rowdy and very very drunk. Best forgotten.
The fireworks were shiny and bright, and noisy too, and lasted for about twelve minutes by which time my hands were frozen with holding my camera. Will post a couple of photos for your delight.
That's all for now. Some of you will have been sent two emails over past few hours. This was due to a glitch with my lovely assistant getting confused and deleting stuff by mistake. Sorry for any inconvenience caused.
Last Post 2012
I guess I should be writing something in my blog as folk seem to be checking it out and finding nothing new, which is not good at all. So thought I would remedy the situation with my last post for 2012, which might just be random dribblings, you never know. I'm currently trying to chat to Iain on FB and write this. Think I shall have to cut him off in his prime. I can't do multi tasking I'm afraid, (wonder if that should be hyphenated or maybe even one word).
Two of my favourite books have recently been turned into movies, so it was with some degree of trepidation that I went to see them, in case my memories should be ruined. But needn't have worried.
Life of Pi by Yann Martel was a book I really enjoyed reading a few years ago. A very unusual and original book, which lots of people didn't take to for some reason. Not an easy book to film as one of the two main characters is a Bengal tiger, called Richard Parker, by mistake. I saw the film in 3D and it's easily the best use of 3D I've seen. In fact it's the only time I've seen 3D and thought it was worthwhile and added to the experience. I'm pleased to say that the good doctor, Mark Kermode agrees with me on this one, though he still says he reserves judgement till he's seen it in 2D too. It's a breathtaking movie, full of suspense and adventure, great acting by the young guy playing Pi, Suraj Sharma, (and the two boys who play him at five and ten), and of course by the tiger, who is superb, and terrifying and thoroughly believable. I'm told that for about 25 percent of the tiger scenes its a real tiger performing, even swimming in the sea. At one point when Pi has understood how to calm him down, the tiger lays his head on Pi's lap, and it's as if for real. Obviously that was not a real tiger. Great stuff. If you haven't read the book it's worth reading but the film is a must see.
Midnight's Children is one of the great books of past few decades. I can't remember how many decades it is now, but lots of years seem to have past since I read it first. It's one of those books which is so good that you get that tingling feeling of excitement and wonder as you read, and you wish it would never come to an end. Some books have that effect on me. Does anyone else get the tingles? I saw the film of the book at the weekend. Brilliantly realised version of the book, which just did not seem possible given the magical realism involved. I was so excited seeing this movie that I seemed to know I would end up in tears, and though I manfully resisted I'm afraid in the end I was in tears, much to the astonishment of my pal, who had the good sense not to mention it. If you haven't read the book it's time to do so now, and the film is a must. The scenery is stunning, no need for 3D, the magical bits are, well, just magical.
Dawn French is one of our best comediennes, and one of my favourites. She was on Desert Island Discs last week and chose Etta James singing At Last, because that's what her mother said to her when she lay dying, " at last I will be with your dad" or words to that effect. She cried when she spoke about it. Which only makes me like her more. Her father committed suicide and her mum died of cancer. Speaking of Etta James I've a cd of her doing Dylan covers and a fine cd it is too.
I hope you all supported Amnesty International by buying "Chimes of Freedom" which is a four cd set of Dylan covers by lots of different artists. More than seventy songs, all different, by seventy plus singers, musicians. I guess there isn't another songwriter living who has a big and good enough treasure trove for such a concept to be successful. Am listening to it now and gets better every listen. Thank you once again Bob.
It's 9:45 on Hogmanay, (new years eve for those not familiar with Scots lingo) and question is should I get myself organised, dress up nice and warm and head off out to see Edinburgh's fireworks display at midnight or should I stay home and watch Jools bring in New Year? Mmmm. Will tell you tomorrow what was decided. But think I must go out.
Two of my favourite books have recently been turned into movies, so it was with some degree of trepidation that I went to see them, in case my memories should be ruined. But needn't have worried.
Life of Pi by Yann Martel was a book I really enjoyed reading a few years ago. A very unusual and original book, which lots of people didn't take to for some reason. Not an easy book to film as one of the two main characters is a Bengal tiger, called Richard Parker, by mistake. I saw the film in 3D and it's easily the best use of 3D I've seen. In fact it's the only time I've seen 3D and thought it was worthwhile and added to the experience. I'm pleased to say that the good doctor, Mark Kermode agrees with me on this one, though he still says he reserves judgement till he's seen it in 2D too. It's a breathtaking movie, full of suspense and adventure, great acting by the young guy playing Pi, Suraj Sharma, (and the two boys who play him at five and ten), and of course by the tiger, who is superb, and terrifying and thoroughly believable. I'm told that for about 25 percent of the tiger scenes its a real tiger performing, even swimming in the sea. At one point when Pi has understood how to calm him down, the tiger lays his head on Pi's lap, and it's as if for real. Obviously that was not a real tiger. Great stuff. If you haven't read the book it's worth reading but the film is a must see.
Midnight's Children is one of the great books of past few decades. I can't remember how many decades it is now, but lots of years seem to have past since I read it first. It's one of those books which is so good that you get that tingling feeling of excitement and wonder as you read, and you wish it would never come to an end. Some books have that effect on me. Does anyone else get the tingles? I saw the film of the book at the weekend. Brilliantly realised version of the book, which just did not seem possible given the magical realism involved. I was so excited seeing this movie that I seemed to know I would end up in tears, and though I manfully resisted I'm afraid in the end I was in tears, much to the astonishment of my pal, who had the good sense not to mention it. If you haven't read the book it's time to do so now, and the film is a must. The scenery is stunning, no need for 3D, the magical bits are, well, just magical.
Dawn French is one of our best comediennes, and one of my favourites. She was on Desert Island Discs last week and chose Etta James singing At Last, because that's what her mother said to her when she lay dying, " at last I will be with your dad" or words to that effect. She cried when she spoke about it. Which only makes me like her more. Her father committed suicide and her mum died of cancer. Speaking of Etta James I've a cd of her doing Dylan covers and a fine cd it is too.
I hope you all supported Amnesty International by buying "Chimes of Freedom" which is a four cd set of Dylan covers by lots of different artists. More than seventy songs, all different, by seventy plus singers, musicians. I guess there isn't another songwriter living who has a big and good enough treasure trove for such a concept to be successful. Am listening to it now and gets better every listen. Thank you once again Bob.
It's 9:45 on Hogmanay, (new years eve for those not familiar with Scots lingo) and question is should I get myself organised, dress up nice and warm and head off out to see Edinburgh's fireworks display at midnight or should I stay home and watch Jools bring in New Year? Mmmm. Will tell you tomorrow what was decided. But think I must go out.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
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
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
Friday, December 14, 2012
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
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.
Sunday, December 09, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, December 01, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Robert Louis Stevenson (RLS)
Last night I went to hear John Cairney talking about Robert Louis Stevenson at the Central Library here in Edinburgh. John Cairney is one of Scotland's finest actors, best known for his Robert Burns shows on TV and stage in Scotland and all round the world. I still remember him doing his Rabbie on TV, in fact it's one of my earliest TV memories, that and watching westerns on my late auntie's TV on a Saturday night, much to my father's annoyance at the time.
John Cairney is now a very young eighty three years, looking more like sixty three, and still able to hold his audience mesmerised and enthralled by his performance. There were a few moments when you could hear the silence, he said himself at the end that "we had two minutes of heaven tonight". I could have listened to him all night.
He described his performance as a threnody for RLS, which I suppose sums it up nicely. RLS was Scotland's finest wordsmith, as good as, if not better than Burns even, and one of our greatest contributions to world culture, one of many of course, too long to list here. But I'm sure you could produce your own very long list. He was a writer, poet, novelist, dramatist, travel writer, children's writer and essayist. He travelled the world in search of good health and finally settled in Samoa, where he was known as "Tusitala" or "Teller of Tales". He died there 1894.
The first poem I ever learnt by heart was his poem "The Lamplighter" and when I close my eyes and think about it now I can still feel the same thrill as I felt as a wee boy, reading it and wondering who Leerie was and if I would ever get to meet him. Well I met a few Leeries in my time, but I'm still waiting to meet the real one. Maybe someday he'll be there lighting the lamps in Morningside.
RLS loved The Pentlands and owned a house in Swanston, a village lying in the foothills, where he spent his summers until eventually he left Scotland forever. I have a view of those Pentland Hills from my apartment here in Edinburgh, and often think of him wondering about up there and writing his stories about Balfour and the rest and maybe he even wrote The Lamplighter there, although more probably at 17 Heriot Row, "with a lamp before the door".
So a very enjoyable evening was had by all, and we chatted with John afterwards and he signed a copy of his new book about RLS for us all. John now lives in Auckland, New Zealand, and his book is partly based on a PhD on RLS he completed at Victoria University, Wellington.
Tonight for a complete change I'm going to see Silver Linings Playbook, I'm told it's hugely funny. So lets see. De Niro is always worth seeing. But lets finish with a wee quote from RLS on Edinburgh:
"Beautiful as she is, she is not so much beautiful as interesting. She is pre-eminently Gothic, and all the more since she has set herself off with some Greek airs, and erected classic temples on her crags. In a word and above all, she is a curiosity."
John Cairney is now a very young eighty three years, looking more like sixty three, and still able to hold his audience mesmerised and enthralled by his performance. There were a few moments when you could hear the silence, he said himself at the end that "we had two minutes of heaven tonight". I could have listened to him all night.
He described his performance as a threnody for RLS, which I suppose sums it up nicely. RLS was Scotland's finest wordsmith, as good as, if not better than Burns even, and one of our greatest contributions to world culture, one of many of course, too long to list here. But I'm sure you could produce your own very long list. He was a writer, poet, novelist, dramatist, travel writer, children's writer and essayist. He travelled the world in search of good health and finally settled in Samoa, where he was known as "Tusitala" or "Teller of Tales". He died there 1894.
The first poem I ever learnt by heart was his poem "The Lamplighter" and when I close my eyes and think about it now I can still feel the same thrill as I felt as a wee boy, reading it and wondering who Leerie was and if I would ever get to meet him. Well I met a few Leeries in my time, but I'm still waiting to meet the real one. Maybe someday he'll be there lighting the lamps in Morningside.
RLS loved The Pentlands and owned a house in Swanston, a village lying in the foothills, where he spent his summers until eventually he left Scotland forever. I have a view of those Pentland Hills from my apartment here in Edinburgh, and often think of him wondering about up there and writing his stories about Balfour and the rest and maybe he even wrote The Lamplighter there, although more probably at 17 Heriot Row, "with a lamp before the door".
So a very enjoyable evening was had by all, and we chatted with John afterwards and he signed a copy of his new book about RLS for us all. John now lives in Auckland, New Zealand, and his book is partly based on a PhD on RLS he completed at Victoria University, Wellington.
Tonight for a complete change I'm going to see Silver Linings Playbook, I'm told it's hugely funny. So lets see. De Niro is always worth seeing. But lets finish with a wee quote from RLS on Edinburgh:
"Beautiful as she is, she is not so much beautiful as interesting. She is pre-eminently Gothic, and all the more since she has set herself off with some Greek airs, and erected classic temples on her crags. In a word and above all, she is a curiosity."
Monday, November 26, 2012
Early Roman Kings
You may recall that in my last post I asked "who were the Early Roman Kings". I was delighted to receive an email from my good friend George which I'm sure he won't mind me quoting from here, as it's rather amusing.
George is a classics scholar, Gaelic scholar, cellist and intellectual. We've been friends since we met at a New Years celebration about thirty years ago, when we had partaken of a little whisky together and put the world to rights. As I recall it was an all nighter, which neither of us could manage ever again. Anyway here is George's reply to my question:
"From memory: Romulus, Numa Pompillius, Ancus Martius, Servius, Tarquinius Priscus, Tarquinius Superbus. Could be one other??"
And knowing George these will be from memory. Thank you George this is all very helpful; educating the people as always. I like the Superbus one. A fine name for a king. I wonder if there was a Supertram as well? Probably not.
Needless to say George is not one of Bob Dylan's greatest fans. And for those of you who likewise are not followers of his Bobness, I should maybe point out that Early Roman Kings is a track on Bob's latest CD, "Tempest", the seventh track as I recall. One of the best tracks on there, and Dylan showing off his own classical scholarship, or something. Who knows with Bob. Just genius.
I went to see "The Master" at the weekend. What a performance from Joaquin Phoenix, chilling, extraordinary, definitely an Oscar winning performance. I never knew the man had it in him, best thing he's ever done and makes one look forward to many more performances like this. The film is worth seeing for him alone, playing a man damaged by his wartime experiences and the powerful way he is able to show us how war leaves even the survivors as victims. Fine acting as usual by Phillip Seymour Hoffman, playing the cult leader, but obviously just as disturbed as the Joaquin character. Go see if only for Joaquin's performance, and if he doesn't win an Oscar, I will eat my hat, or would do if I wore one.
George is a classics scholar, Gaelic scholar, cellist and intellectual. We've been friends since we met at a New Years celebration about thirty years ago, when we had partaken of a little whisky together and put the world to rights. As I recall it was an all nighter, which neither of us could manage ever again. Anyway here is George's reply to my question:
"From memory: Romulus, Numa Pompillius, Ancus Martius, Servius, Tarquinius Priscus, Tarquinius Superbus. Could be one other??"
And knowing George these will be from memory. Thank you George this is all very helpful; educating the people as always. I like the Superbus one. A fine name for a king. I wonder if there was a Supertram as well? Probably not.
Needless to say George is not one of Bob Dylan's greatest fans. And for those of you who likewise are not followers of his Bobness, I should maybe point out that Early Roman Kings is a track on Bob's latest CD, "Tempest", the seventh track as I recall. One of the best tracks on there, and Dylan showing off his own classical scholarship, or something. Who knows with Bob. Just genius.
I went to see "The Master" at the weekend. What a performance from Joaquin Phoenix, chilling, extraordinary, definitely an Oscar winning performance. I never knew the man had it in him, best thing he's ever done and makes one look forward to many more performances like this. The film is worth seeing for him alone, playing a man damaged by his wartime experiences and the powerful way he is able to show us how war leaves even the survivors as victims. Fine acting as usual by Phillip Seymour Hoffman, playing the cult leader, but obviously just as disturbed as the Joaquin character. Go see if only for Joaquin's performance, and if he doesn't win an Oscar, I will eat my hat, or would do if I wore one.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Mirrors
Dylan's new album is playing in the other room, hope not too loudly, but it's early morning so neighbours should be at work. I don't have hifi in this room, just my laptop, so prefer to play Bob in other room with doors open and listen away as I write. He still writes the best love songs and blues, just no-one there to match him. I sometimes wonder why I bother buying anyone else's music; well almost wonder.
I shall have to write about all the books I've been reading this year some day soon, but meantime thought I should mention Eduardo Galeano's book "Mirrors" which I've been reading on and off for a few months now. It's a book you can pick up anytime and start in the middle or wherever takes your fancy. It's his version of the history of the world told in mini episodes or fragments. He is incredibly erudite, how he finds the time to read all this stuff and then to write it all is a mystery.
John Pilger says " he is the enemy of lies, indifference, above all forgetfulness...... his tenderness is devastating, his truthfulness furious". I couldn't have put it better myself John. His best known book is "Open Veins of Latin America", a must read for anyone who cares about the history of that part of the world, and how it's been exploited to ruination by the west. If you are planning to visit that part of the world don't go without first reading Galeano. Or take him with you.
He tells the story of Iqbal, a boy in Pakistan in the 1990s, who was sold by his parents when he was aged four for fifteen dollars. " He was bought by a rug maker. He worked chained to the loom fourteen hours a day. At the age of ten. Iqbal was a hunchback with the lungs of an old man. Then he escaped and became the spokesman for Pakistan's child slaves. In 1995, when he was twelve years old, a fatal bullet knocked him from his bicycle."
When I read this I couldn't help but think of Basilio in Cusco, a boy I met and worked with at La Policia de la Familia. He too had been sold by his father into slavery and escaped to live on the streets of Cusco till the police picked him up and took him to La Policia de la Familia. I've told his story in this blog a few years ago. He ended up in an orphanage and then a few weeks later a police woman and I took him back to his village, a few hours drive from Cusco. But they weren't prepared to take him back, so back to Cusco we had to go, to find his place in the orphanage gone, so back to La Policia he went. I often wonder what became of him. He was a fighter so I'm sure he survived. Maybe some day I will find out.
Anyway Galeano has lots more to tell. Must tell you about the Spanish footballer called Bebel Garcia, socialist, anti fascist, anti Franco, played for Depor, at the age of twenty one, stands before the firing squad, and tells them to hold on a minute, opens his fly, button by button, and facing the firing squad takes a long piss. Then he buttons up and says "go ahead". There's another version online of this story in which he calls the officer over and when he gets close he pisses on his shoes, and is quickly shot. Whichever is true it's an inspiring story. Can you imagine any of today's players in that situation? Well maybe Wayne would do it......
Who were/are the "Early Roman Kings" ?
I shall have to write about all the books I've been reading this year some day soon, but meantime thought I should mention Eduardo Galeano's book "Mirrors" which I've been reading on and off for a few months now. It's a book you can pick up anytime and start in the middle or wherever takes your fancy. It's his version of the history of the world told in mini episodes or fragments. He is incredibly erudite, how he finds the time to read all this stuff and then to write it all is a mystery.
John Pilger says " he is the enemy of lies, indifference, above all forgetfulness...... his tenderness is devastating, his truthfulness furious". I couldn't have put it better myself John. His best known book is "Open Veins of Latin America", a must read for anyone who cares about the history of that part of the world, and how it's been exploited to ruination by the west. If you are planning to visit that part of the world don't go without first reading Galeano. Or take him with you.
He tells the story of Iqbal, a boy in Pakistan in the 1990s, who was sold by his parents when he was aged four for fifteen dollars. " He was bought by a rug maker. He worked chained to the loom fourteen hours a day. At the age of ten. Iqbal was a hunchback with the lungs of an old man. Then he escaped and became the spokesman for Pakistan's child slaves. In 1995, when he was twelve years old, a fatal bullet knocked him from his bicycle."
When I read this I couldn't help but think of Basilio in Cusco, a boy I met and worked with at La Policia de la Familia. He too had been sold by his father into slavery and escaped to live on the streets of Cusco till the police picked him up and took him to La Policia de la Familia. I've told his story in this blog a few years ago. He ended up in an orphanage and then a few weeks later a police woman and I took him back to his village, a few hours drive from Cusco. But they weren't prepared to take him back, so back to Cusco we had to go, to find his place in the orphanage gone, so back to La Policia he went. I often wonder what became of him. He was a fighter so I'm sure he survived. Maybe some day I will find out.
Anyway Galeano has lots more to tell. Must tell you about the Spanish footballer called Bebel Garcia, socialist, anti fascist, anti Franco, played for Depor, at the age of twenty one, stands before the firing squad, and tells them to hold on a minute, opens his fly, button by button, and facing the firing squad takes a long piss. Then he buttons up and says "go ahead". There's another version online of this story in which he calls the officer over and when he gets close he pisses on his shoes, and is quickly shot. Whichever is true it's an inspiring story. Can you imagine any of today's players in that situation? Well maybe Wayne would do it......
Who were/are the "Early Roman Kings" ?
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Amour
I guess it's time to be writing again, now that I'm back home in Edinburgh. I'm sitting at my desk with a view to The Pentland Hills from the window behind me and the newish moon hanging up there over the Hills reassuringly. And life goes on. I remember a few weeks ago watching the new moon rising over Cuzco and thinking of being home in Scotland and now here I am thinking about being back in Cuzco. But I do wish that Cuzco wasn't so high up in the sky and so much nearer to the moon. Or is it? And so life goes on. But I do wish it would slow down sometimes and give me a chance to catch up with all that happens.
A few days ago I went to see "Amour" at The Filmhouse. Truly a great movie, one of the best I've seen for a very long time. Simply superb. It's a film by Michael Haneke and is a story of love, illness, compassion, caring, end of life and death. Sounds grim I know but its not like that at all. It's life affirming in fact. Devastatingly and totally believable.
Magnificent performances by Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva, playing the two octogenarians facing up to life's travails together, acting of the highest quality. Some very funny moments and some enchanting bits, as when they come home from a concert and he turns to her and says " You were looking very pretty tonight". ( you look wonderful tonight as Mr Clapton said once upon a time). Some shocking bits too, but you will have to go and see the movie to find out about those. This movie will make you want to live life to the full, and treasure every moment of it, whatever that may mean in your life and hopefully at the end your memories will see you safe.
The film brought back some difficult memories to me of caring for my father as he died. The last few days of his life were distressing for him and for my mother and in a lesser way for me. I knew for a long time that he was dying, as did he, and sometimes, I have to admit I wished he would get on with it. His last night alive was the worst of all as he was so disturbed. At midnight we (my mother and I) decided to call the doctor. The young doctor who arrived shall remain nameless. He asked my mother and my aunt, who was also there for some reason, known only to herself, to go to bed.
So it was just him, my father and me. He gave my father a morphine jag, but this didn't calm him down, so he gave him another one. It's hard to describe my father's behaviour as he was so very disturbed, so much so that the second dose of morphine failed to calm him down. I then realised that the doctor was making sure that my father would die peacefully, in fact a mercy killing I suppose. So he gave him a third injection. I often think about this night and what happened. I think the doctor did the right thing, but I know my father would not have wanted it. So who knows, or can tell what is right in these circumstances.
The doctor stayed with us for an hour by which time my father was sleeping soundly, or unconscious, i don't know which. But he was at peace. I spent the night with him and didn't go to bed, just sat there with him and probably had a cigarette or two as he lay there. So many things I wanted to tell him but now couldn't. So I told him anyway, I'm sure he would have been shocked, amazed had he been able to hear some of the things I told him. Nowadays I like to think that he did hear me and told me all was well.
He died the next day. Having spent the night with him I went to bed about 9 o'clock in the morning. I got up for dinner later that afternoon. Went in to see him for half an hour or so, then went for dinner. When I went back to see him, he had died alone. I was angry with him for being so selfish and not letting me be with him when he finally passed away. Stupid I know. I should have been annoyed with someone else, maybe god?
That's a long story brought on by the movie. I shall probably go back to see it. I highly recommend it.
I hope those of you who have been checking my blog since I left Peru and not seen any posts will forgive me, but it's taken a few days to adjust to life back in UK. Hope this post makes up for it and shall be posting regularly in future.
A few days ago I went to see "Amour" at The Filmhouse. Truly a great movie, one of the best I've seen for a very long time. Simply superb. It's a film by Michael Haneke and is a story of love, illness, compassion, caring, end of life and death. Sounds grim I know but its not like that at all. It's life affirming in fact. Devastatingly and totally believable.
Magnificent performances by Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva, playing the two octogenarians facing up to life's travails together, acting of the highest quality. Some very funny moments and some enchanting bits, as when they come home from a concert and he turns to her and says " You were looking very pretty tonight". ( you look wonderful tonight as Mr Clapton said once upon a time). Some shocking bits too, but you will have to go and see the movie to find out about those. This movie will make you want to live life to the full, and treasure every moment of it, whatever that may mean in your life and hopefully at the end your memories will see you safe.
The film brought back some difficult memories to me of caring for my father as he died. The last few days of his life were distressing for him and for my mother and in a lesser way for me. I knew for a long time that he was dying, as did he, and sometimes, I have to admit I wished he would get on with it. His last night alive was the worst of all as he was so disturbed. At midnight we (my mother and I) decided to call the doctor. The young doctor who arrived shall remain nameless. He asked my mother and my aunt, who was also there for some reason, known only to herself, to go to bed.
So it was just him, my father and me. He gave my father a morphine jag, but this didn't calm him down, so he gave him another one. It's hard to describe my father's behaviour as he was so very disturbed, so much so that the second dose of morphine failed to calm him down. I then realised that the doctor was making sure that my father would die peacefully, in fact a mercy killing I suppose. So he gave him a third injection. I often think about this night and what happened. I think the doctor did the right thing, but I know my father would not have wanted it. So who knows, or can tell what is right in these circumstances.
The doctor stayed with us for an hour by which time my father was sleeping soundly, or unconscious, i don't know which. But he was at peace. I spent the night with him and didn't go to bed, just sat there with him and probably had a cigarette or two as he lay there. So many things I wanted to tell him but now couldn't. So I told him anyway, I'm sure he would have been shocked, amazed had he been able to hear some of the things I told him. Nowadays I like to think that he did hear me and told me all was well.
He died the next day. Having spent the night with him I went to bed about 9 o'clock in the morning. I got up for dinner later that afternoon. Went in to see him for half an hour or so, then went for dinner. When I went back to see him, he had died alone. I was angry with him for being so selfish and not letting me be with him when he finally passed away. Stupid I know. I should have been annoyed with someone else, maybe god?
That's a long story brought on by the movie. I shall probably go back to see it. I highly recommend it.
I hope those of you who have been checking my blog since I left Peru and not seen any posts will forgive me, but it's taken a few days to adjust to life back in UK. Hope this post makes up for it and shall be posting regularly in future.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Remembrance Sunday
Back home two days now and all well here in a not too cold Edinburgh. Still the same old Edinburgh and my hills are still there every morning, not that I expected otherwise. They are faithful old hills, The Pentlands, always there to keep an eye on things for me. Think I shall ask my friend Neville to walk along the ridge with me some day soon. He's a mountaineer who has climbed in The Andes so I'm sure he would love to do the Pentlands again. What do you reckon Neville? Are you still reading my blog? See you Tuesday night anyway.
Tomorrow is Remembrance Sunday, 11th of November. We shall have 2 minutes silence at 11 am. I will be thinking about my uncle Alex John Maciver, my father's brother, who was killed in action on 31st October 1940 in the North Sea. He was aged just 20 years. I will post a blog about his death later this year. I'm waiting for more information from National Archives. Not that they have a huge amount.
I will also be thinking about my father, who survived the war, but had some terrible experiences, as well as losing his young brother. He was 22 when he lost his brother. He rarely mentioned the war or his brother's death. I often wonder how much these things affected him in later life. I didn't take the time to ask him when he was alive, and now regret it. I should have been more inquisitive, but it was never easy to ask him about what happened to him and his brother. Maybe it accounts for lots of things in his life that were a puzzle.
So tomorrow is for both of them, and all the other men from Isle of Lewis who were lost, and not forgetting my late aunt's service in North Africa and elsewhere throughout the war.
Tomorrow is Remembrance Sunday, 11th of November. We shall have 2 minutes silence at 11 am. I will be thinking about my uncle Alex John Maciver, my father's brother, who was killed in action on 31st October 1940 in the North Sea. He was aged just 20 years. I will post a blog about his death later this year. I'm waiting for more information from National Archives. Not that they have a huge amount.
I will also be thinking about my father, who survived the war, but had some terrible experiences, as well as losing his young brother. He was 22 when he lost his brother. He rarely mentioned the war or his brother's death. I often wonder how much these things affected him in later life. I didn't take the time to ask him when he was alive, and now regret it. I should have been more inquisitive, but it was never easy to ask him about what happened to him and his brother. Maybe it accounts for lots of things in his life that were a puzzle.
So tomorrow is for both of them, and all the other men from Isle of Lewis who were lost, and not forgetting my late aunt's service in North Africa and elsewhere throughout the war.
Thursday, November 08, 2012
Homeward Bound
Here I am in Amsterdam, Schipol Airport, with five hours to while away until my flight back to Edinburgh leaves at 21:15. So might as well spend a few minutes on my blog or at least until the one hour of free Internet access so generously provided by the Dutch is exhausted, or I'm exhausted, whichever comes first. Probably my exhaustion, though I did manage a few hours sleep on the overnight flight from Lima. We had a medical emergency on board but I think he survived ok. They found a doctor and gave him some oxygen, so hopefully he's going to be home safe and sound by now, unless of course like me he's connecting here for home airport.
Airports are not great places to be wasting a few hours in, and they seem to be the same wherever you go,excep Stornoway airport which is a law unto itself. So many people, you have to wonder what they all get up to on their travels?
I had this strange woman sitting beside me on the flight from Lima. Usually you dread having someone of large proportions sitting next to you. But she was just a skinny thing but she wanted lots of space, including mine. She kept pushing my elbow out of the way, every time I tried to rest it on the shared armrest. She was a bitter old woman. She fell asleep so I gave her a good slap. Well no I didn't but I was lose to it. While she was sleeping in the middle of the night the cabin crew brought some snacks for us and I had some ice cream, at 3:15 am! Anyway her husband had a sandwich but didn't bother to wake her up. He probably felt the same as me, let her sleep and give us peace. She woke up when the cabin crew were away. She was furious with him and seemed to imply that I was somehow culpable too. She gave him a good talking to and seemed to think that he should go in search of the crew, which I'm glad to say he refused to do. Unfortunately they came back round so she got her snack. Usually one makes an effort to chat to fellow passengers but not with this one.
I've noticed that Schipol are timingmy access time and have only few minutes left.
So will close this post for now and go back to reading Molloy,which I've read a few times now but is always like a new experience every time. Such is Mr Beckett. I think in fact I may have quoted from him in the past in this blog. Maybe the bit about his method of communicating with his mother, with knocks on the head, one tap for yes, two for no, etc. I'm sure you know the drill by now.
Will write more re my trip once I'm home. All for now.
Airports are not great places to be wasting a few hours in, and they seem to be the same wherever you go,excep Stornoway airport which is a law unto itself. So many people, you have to wonder what they all get up to on their travels?
I had this strange woman sitting beside me on the flight from Lima. Usually you dread having someone of large proportions sitting next to you. But she was just a skinny thing but she wanted lots of space, including mine. She kept pushing my elbow out of the way, every time I tried to rest it on the shared armrest. She was a bitter old woman. She fell asleep so I gave her a good slap. Well no I didn't but I was lose to it. While she was sleeping in the middle of the night the cabin crew brought some snacks for us and I had some ice cream, at 3:15 am! Anyway her husband had a sandwich but didn't bother to wake her up. He probably felt the same as me, let her sleep and give us peace. She woke up when the cabin crew were away. She was furious with him and seemed to imply that I was somehow culpable too. She gave him a good talking to and seemed to think that he should go in search of the crew, which I'm glad to say he refused to do. Unfortunately they came back round so she got her snack. Usually one makes an effort to chat to fellow passengers but not with this one.
I've noticed that Schipol are timingmy access time and have only few minutes left.
So will close this post for now and go back to reading Molloy,which I've read a few times now but is always like a new experience every time. Such is Mr Beckett. I think in fact I may have quoted from him in the past in this blog. Maybe the bit about his method of communicating with his mother, with knocks on the head, one tap for yes, two for no, etc. I'm sure you know the drill by now.
Will write more re my trip once I'm home. All for now.
Sunday, November 04, 2012
Oscar and his pals at Villa Maria
Oscar is one of the two boys who will play a six a side against the President's team on Saturday. He is the middle one in the group photo. Wish I was still here on Saturday. He told me on my first day back that I was like his second papa. I've known him since my first time in Villa Maria.
Some kids of Villa Maria
These are some of the kids who come to the centre at Villa Maria. The boys are Freddy and Sebastien and two of the girls are Geraldine and Natalyn.
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