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The innocence of birdsong

2012-02-01T07:35:00.000-08:00

The following is an excerpt from Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks. Jack Firebrace is a soldier in the trenches of World War I, and in the following passage he reflects on his son and the nature of his innocence.

‘His thoughts turned towards home. Eight and a half years earlier when his wife had given birth to a son, Jack’s life had changed. As the child grew, Jack noticed in him some quality he valued and which surprised him. The child was not worn down. In his innocence there was a kind of hope. Margaret laughed when Jack point this out to her. “He’s only two years old”, she said. “Of course he’s innocent.”

This is not what Jack had meant but he could not put into words the effect that watching John had on him. He saw him as a creature who had come from another universe: but in Jack’s eyes the place from which the boy had come was not just a different but a better world. His innocence was not the same thing as ignorance; it was a powerful quality of goodness that was available to all people: it was perhaps what the Prayer Book called a means of grace, or a hope of glory.’

Birdsong is a compelling and beautifully written book (although I must warn you that it contains some very strong sex scenes), but the thoughts of this character really made me think about what it means to be innocent and seen through the eyes of faith it offers a real hope to those weighed down by the world and their own sinfulness. People talk about losing their innocence, usually in reference to the carnal temptations of a secular society. But I think if somebody can lose their innocence then they can regain it as well. Like Jack says, ‘it was a powerful quality of goodness that was available to all people’. I think this gives hope to people who feel that they have lost their innocence through their mistakes and misadventures in life, often in the area of sexuality. Their soul can be reborn, in a sense, and regain that ‘powerful quality of goodness’. It is also something that is reflected in the parable of the Prodigal Son. The Father not only forgives his son but he clothes him in his best robe, give him new sandals and puts a ring on his finger. The memory of our misdeeds might remain, and still cause occasional pain, but there is no black mark on our soul that cannot be washed away by God’s mercy and grace. This is a very reassuring thought.

A fine balancing act

2012-01-22T07:15:00.000-08:00

Recently a friend asked if I was conservative when it came to politics. I denied this but it made me think. I think some people just want change for the sake of change and so that people will view them as progressive. I think this is a dangerous mindset because good politics is a fine balancing act between conserving what works well and reforming for the general benefit of all. This takes discernment and wisdom, qualities which is greatly desired in our present day politicians. We only have to look to the foolishness of Glasgow city council in the 1960’s when they pulled down many beautiful Victorian buildings and erected blocks of concrete in their place. This was all done in the name of progress. Thankfully there remains many building of impressive architecture in Glasgow but still significant damage was done by these politician who wanted to be hailed as visionaries and men of reform. Ego can often blind people and the politicians who could not see the value of conserving Glasgow’s beautiful architecture must indeed have been blind.

Ceremonials by Florence And The Machine

2012-01-18T01:00:00.001-08:00

Ceremonials is Florence And The Machine's much anticipated second album. The follow up to her hugely successful debut album, Lungs, was always going to be a difficult task. Ceremonials is much in the same vein as Lungs: similiar sound and layers of instruments, and of course Florence Welch's powerful voice. But, although Ceremonials is a decent album and will please many Florence and the Machine fans, it does not quite hit the same heights as Lungs. There are a couple of great tracks, most notably the haunting ballad 'What The Water Gave Me', and 'Lover To Lover', a catchy number which allows Florence to show off her impressive vocal range and power. There is also 'No Light, No Light', full of emotion and energy, which strikes a tasty chord. The follow up to a successful debut album is judged to be something of a poisoned chalice but there are enough good songs on Ceremonials to keep Florence's mojo alive and well. An atmospheric, aspiring, bold album with some notable highlights. 7/10

Philharmonics by Agnes Obel

2012-01-11T14:15:00.000-08:00

Agnes Obel, the Danish born, Berlin based singer/songwriter, is a quiet force of nature. A first listening of her debut album, Philharmonics, did not overwhelm me with bigs sounds and attitude. However, over the course of a few spins in my cd player I was gently won over by Obel's whimiscal, well crafted songs, warm vocals, and the bewitching rhythm's of her piano playing. All music is a expression of something human, but many pop acts are restricted by their lack of talent, their lack of vision and the big money of bland corporate shallowness. Stand up Lady Gaga and Justin Bieber. But in Philharmonics there is a strong sense of freedom and integrity, of a young woman more focused on adventure and self-expression through her music. Agnes Oble is not alone in that sense, and the same accolade can be laid at the feet of many other modern alternative acts, like Fleet Foxes, PJ Harvey and Bat For Lashes, to cite some examples. It is ironic then that for a few years Obel struggled to get a recording contract until her breakthrough came when one of her songs was the soundtrack to a corporate ad on television. This got her the notice she deserved and her debut album became a reality. Philharmonics was recorded over three years but there is no sense of disjointment and the songs flow really well together. Obel produced the album as well, giving her more creative control, and maybe this is the reason that instruments are used sparingly and to very good effect. There is a sense of intimacy throughout the album that I found very comforting and appealing. I liked her lyrics without really undestanding them. They are enigmatic and tinged with melancholy, with strong images of nature. Philharmonics is a curious delight and a very promising debut. Standout tracks: Riverside, Brother Sparrow, Avenue, and Close Watch.

8/10

Condescending Cameron

2012-01-02T03:23:00.000-08:00

I was watching breakfast television through bleary eyes this morning at the ungodly hour of 7.30AM and I listened with growing annoynace to David Cameron telling us that 2012 would a tough year in terms of the economy. Thanks David, for telling us something that is already painfully obvious and something that you personally will not experience, despite the fact that 'we are all in this together'. But don't worry, he assured, the Queen's Diamond Jubilee and the Olympics will help cheer us up and get us Brits through this difficult time of recession. I find this very patronising. We don't care about priviliged people spending tax payers money. What we want Mr Cameron is a stable economy, an end to small to medium businesses becoming insolvent, an end to corruption, more jobs and a better deal on pay and pensions. This is further evidence that David Cameron and the Conservative elite are totally out of touch with the ordinary working class man and woman. I am going back to bed. Maybe when I wake up this nightmare will be over.

The best of 2011

2011-12-25T13:02:00.000-08:00

Best books (that I've read this year)

1. The Remains Of The Day by Kazuo Ishiguro

2. North And South by Elizabeth Gaskell

3. Adventures In Two Worlds by A.J. Cronin

4. The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas by John Boyne

5. Enduring Love by Ian McEwan

6. The New York Trilogy by Paul Auster

7. Brooklyn by Colm Toibin

8. Anil's Ghost by Michael Ondaatje

9. Paradoxical Undressing by Kristin Hersh

10. The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets Nest by Stieg Larsson

Best albums (that I bought in 2011).

In alphabetical order.

A Thousand Years Of Popular Music by Richard Thompson

Automatic For The People by R.E.M.

Debut by Bjork

Everything All The Time by Band Of Horses

Fleet Foxes by Fleet Foxes

God Willing & The Creek Don't Rise by Ray Lamontagne

Helplessness Blues by Fleet Foxes

Limbo by Throwing Muses

Passenger by Lisa Hannigan

Philharmonics by Agnes Obel

The Suburbs by Arcade Fire

University by Throwing Muses

Best films of 2011 (that I saw. Due to ill health I missed quite a few films that looked great, like Drive, Midnight After Paris, etc. They will be on my dvd list of 2012.)

1. The King's Speech

2. True Grit

3. The Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes

4. Tinker Taylor Soldier Spy

5. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (US version)

6. The Fighter

7. Sherlock Holmes: A Game Of Shadows

8. 127 Hours

9. Source Code

10. Limitless

Best DVD's (that I watched in 2011)

1. Amadeus

2. Of Gods And Men

3. The Secrets In Their Eyes

4. North And South (2003 tv version)

5. Away We Go

6. The Remains Of The Day

7. 21 Grams

8. The Orphanage

9. Harry Brown

10. Adam

Babes of 2011 (my favorite part of the list)

1. Lucy Liu

2. Amanda Seyfried

3. Norah Jones

4. Nia Long

5. Camilla Belle

6. Cobie Smulders (Robin from How I Met Your Mother)

7. Freida Pinto

8. Zoe Saldana

9. Monica Bellucci

10. Anna Friel

Amadeus

2011-12-12T08:27:00.001-08:00

Creative license is a great thing. And it is applied to great effect in Milos Forman's glorious Amadeus. All it needed was a decent car chase and some kung fu action scenes and it would be nothing short of a masterpiece. I watched the director's cut and it did not drag for one second of the 173 minutes of its runtime. This is due to great storytelling, sumptous costume and set designs, wonderful acting, a sharp script and of course the sublime music. The right music is used at the right time in the film, so take a bow Milos Forman and your staff of editors and writers and musical advisers. The portrayal of Mozart caused some upset when it was first released in cinemas. The Mozart in the film is giddy, frivolous, temperamental and naive, hence the creative license, but this is intrinstic to the plot. The story centers around the relationship between Mozart and Antonio Salieri, court composer for Emperor Joesph II of Austria. Salieri is infuriated that God has blessed the childish Mozart with such genius and he is so consumed by jealousy that he schemes to wrestle fortune and fame away from his rival. It is also a form of revenge against God, who he feels is mocking him through Mozart. Salieri was a real person and a much respected composer and teacher in 18th century Vienna, but to the best of my knowledge the depiction of his character in Amadeus is highly fictionalized. I've conducted a little research (okay I just looked up Wikipedia) and there might be some truth that the two composers viewed each other as rivals but this seemed to be purely on a professional level and without the drama and tragedy of the film. Revenge and envy are the driving forces of Amadeus, much of the film being a flashback told by an elderly Salieri to a priest in confession, but significant aspects of Mozart's life and music are shown with a mixture of humor and poignancy: his married and family life, the ups and downs of his musical career, his relationship with his father, and of course his genius. Tom Hulce was nominated for an Oscar for his performance as Mozart but he lost out to his co-star F. Murray Abraham. Both are wonderful but, for once, I think the Academy got it right in giving Abraham the award for his portrayal as Salieri. Amadeus is a fascinating, powerful and delicious piece of cinema. 9/10

Lisa Hannigan

2011-11-28T05:58:00.000-08:00

Lisa Hannigan made her musical breakthrough with a successful collaboration with Irish singer/songwriter Damien Rice on his first two albums. The quality of her vocals have never been in question but since they parted ways Lisa has struck out on her own and she is in the process of establishing herself as gifted singer/songwriter in her own right. I first saw her play live at a Nick Drake tribute concert and I thought that she was the standout performer that night, so when I discovered that she was playing at Oran Mor I snapped up a ticket as quickly as possible. On the night of the concert I was tired and not in the mood for the support act so I arrived just to see Lisa and her band. While the roadies set up mics and fiddled with nobs I sipped on my pint of cider and watched a couple of doe-eyed lovebirds. The couple were closely entwined, his hands on her shapely hips, her hands clasped around his neck, lots of eye contact - they seemed really into each other. (Maybe I should write for Mills & Boon?) Gradually they were obscured by the swelling crowd so I then spent the next few minutes trying to catch the eye of a particulary attractive brunette. I perserved with this until I caught the steely-eyed, hostile glare of a shaven headed security guard and I looked at the floor, shamefaced, for the rest of the evening. When it comes to live concerts you cannot put the cart before the horse. It doesn't matter how well you perform if the songs you play are not good enough. Lisa has two albums worth of very solid material, so that is not a problem for her. On stage she was great, very expressive and with an unmistakably Celtic spirit that is very attractive. Her band were excellent. Some were multi-instrumentalists and this diversity added different dimensions to the songs. I liked the way Lisa and her band tried to make each song a bit different from the studio album version. It kept the concert fresh and interesting. Her onstage personality was very charming and natural, and she enjoyed the banter between herself and the audience. So, that was my third gig at Oran Mor and I have yet to be disappointed, despite the fact that I have consistently failed to pull a gorgeous girl. It's a really good venue and it seems to attract bands that are my cup of tea. I wonder what my next cup of tea at Oran Mor will taste like?

Throwing Muses

2011-11-16T12:05:00.000-08:00

A week last Monday I dragged myself off my sick bed to see one of my favourite bands, Throwing Muses, play live at Oran Mor. I got there early, erring on the side of caution, and ordered a bottle of mineral water from a very attractive but icy cold blonde barmaid. I was not drinking alcohol because I had a fasting blood test the following morning and I thought it best not to have any alcohol in my bloodstream. Thus I spent the next few hours in this rare window of sobriety. While waiting for the support act the venue gradually filled up with fellow Bieber hating, Muse loving intellectuals. I amused myself with a few daydreams (repeatedly punching Justin Bieber in the face was my favourite) and checked out the talent (that is the Scottish way of saying that I visually appreciated the fairer sex). The support act was a spunky and likable young singer/songwriter from the Faroe Islands and whose name I have completely forgotten despite the fact that he repeated it about forty times during his set. His songs were a mixed bunch - one was very good, a few were quite good, one or two were very average. While he crooned away my eyes was fixated on his guitar; a splendid, ochre-toned, semi-acoustic that had a gorgeous shape like a woman's curves - thou shall not covet thy neighbour's guitar. I am a snap happy tourist concert goer. Let me explain. While on vacation many tourists take photos constantly and miss out on just experiencing the sights and smells and sounds of a city. I am kind of the same at concerts. I was mentally writing my blog while the band played. Rarely am I able to get totally lost in the music and in this age of countless medicial conditions I am sure that I suffer from some kind of syndrome. Kristen Hersh, lead singer and guitarist of Throwing Muses, blasted her way onstage with a couple of storming numbers and then thanked us for coming out on such a cold, wintery night. She described us as ‘you randy Monday nighters’ or something like that. Well, they were absolutely awesome in concert. Right from the word go. They were so dynamic, intense and expressive. Any fool with a guitar can play with energy and passion but they seemed to channel it with great skill and flair. I'm not a music critic so I can't really explain why they were so awesome but it was one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to. One thing I can say with certainty is that seeing them play live really made me appreciate Kirsten Hersh more as a guitarist. There were two encores, much to the delight of a highly enthusiastic crowd. The Muses seemed to really warm to us as well and fed off our energy (and drunkeness). In an ideal world, with myself as master of the universe, the Muses would be playing sell out concerts in front of 10,000, but maybe something would be lost in that kind of setting, that special thing that happens when a great band play in an intimate venue to around 200 die hard fans. Just awesome.

Richard Kuklanski

2011-11-05T18:18:00.000-07:00

'It's better to give than receive.' You would be mistaken if you thought these were the words of Jesus or Gandhi or the Dalai Lama. It is actually something that infamous contract killer Richard Kuklanski said when describing how he reacted to being the victim of bullying as a teenager. His opinion was that it's better to give out violence than to receive. I think self-defence is wholly justified and morally acceptable but this 'giving out' by Kuklanski as a teenager soon escalated into a brutality and savageness that went far beyond standing up for himself. Maybe his innate blood-lust would have manifested itself in some way later on in life but soon his talent for violence was noticed by the Mafia and he started to kill for them professionally. He admits that he would rather have chosen a different way of life but this admission does not mean that he had any guilt or regret for the hundreds of men he executed. He reminded me a bit of Ethan Hawke's character in Brooklyn's Finest, a corrupt cop who brutalises a part of himself to kill for money and thus provide for his family. Kuklanski is similiar in some ways. It would be easy to judge him and brand him an evil monster but in the documentary I watched about him on YouTube he claimed to have a genuine love for his family. When interviewed he confessed that the only regret he had was the pain that his eventual arrest and conviction caused his family. There must have been some part of him that was able to disconnect his humanity to lead this double life: to function, on one hand, as a apparently loving family man and, on the other hand, as a ruthless contract killer. In the interviews he gave for HBO in 1992 and then 2001 he is very open about his way of life as a killer and some have accused him of enjoying the pubicity and his own notority. Perhaps this is true but it is hard to know what to make of him. After watching the 1992 interview one journalist said "After watching, you may feel some minds are better left unpenetrated." I certainly don't wish to glamourise or absolve him, and I hope the upcoming film about his life, starring the wonderful Michael Shannon, does not do the same. Richard Kuklanski was an extremely dangerous, fascinating but ultimately tragic man.

44th aniversary of the Abortion Act in UK

2011-10-27T14:20:00.000-07:00

Today is the 44th aniversary of the Abortion Act in Britain, which effectively legalised abortion in this country. Since 1967 over 7 million unborn babies have been killed. I was going to write an article about this but instead I will just post a single photograph. The photograph was taken 12 years ago during an operation on an unborn baby's spine. It shows Samuel coming out of anaethesia and reaching up out of the womb. It's a truly remarkable picture that captures the spirit and sanctity of all human life. In my eyes Samuel's gesture of wrapping his hand around the surgeons finger is the childs way of saying 'I want to live'.

The New York Trilogy by Paul Auster

2011-10-22T06:41:00.000-07:00

My knowledge of American literature is pretty woeful. I haven't even read the supposed classic 'Catcher In The Rye'. My Polish penpal studied American literature at university so I asked her to recommend some good American authors and she put me onto Paul Auster. The New York Trilogy is his fictional debut, three novels based in The Big Apple. They are not conventional crime fiction. A more accurate description would be philosophical queries within a crime fiction or mystery setting. The three stories have an existential and nihilistic thread running through them, which is probably why Auster chose New York as his setting. Auster's New York is a large, sprawling, disconnected city where nothing really makes any sense. Despite this bleakness the trilogy is a compelling and worthwhile read. Auster wrestles with themes like individual identity, and personal meaning and purpose in life (or lack of). The intriguing nature of the three plots is skillfully interwoven with these issues and although the trilogy is never a page turner in the popular understanding of the word the mystery surrounding the bizarre situations of the protaganists is very interesting and the reader is always driven by a desire to understand the characters and their actions. This is a bold and extremely accomplished debut by a writer of undoubted talent. 8/10

Bert Jansch

2011-10-13T15:29:00.000-07:00

Sadly this is the second obitury I've had to write this year. I had a ticket to see Bert in concert last month at the Edinburgh Festival but he cancelled a week before much to my disappointment. I had no idea at the time that he was battling with cancer so it came as a shock when I heard on the radio that he had passed away. I remember the first time I heard Bert Jansch. I was reading a book in Mono cafe but I had difficulty in concentrating on the words before me because the music being played in the background kept grabbing my attention. There was something startling original and bewitching about it, so much that I eventually put my book down and gave the music my full attention. On further inquiry I discovered that the cd being played was Bert Jansch's self-titled debut album. I immediately bought a copy and I have been a huge fan ever since. I had the privilige of seeing Bert live in concert three times, once as a part of folk group Pentagle who he played with in the late 1960's and early 70's. Pentagle were good but I was there really to see Bert. He was brilliant live in a solo capacity. Very unassuming and quiet, but he held the audience spellbound with his flair and technical excellence on the guitar and his powerful, raw vocals. He has been described as a pioneer in music, as being ahead of his time. I can't put my finger on what exactly set him apart from others, anybody can be different, but Bert had a touch of genius that put him on a different level. He just had a great gift, that's about all I can say. So it's hardly surprising that he has influenced many generations of musicians including Paul Simon, Nick Drake, Johnny Marr, Neil Young and Jimmy Page. On that note (if you excuse the pun) I will leave you with the words of Neil Young: "As much of a great guitar player Jimi (Hendrix) was, Bert Jansch is the same for acoustic guitar...and my favourite."

Bert Jansch 1943-2011 Rest In Peace

R.E.M. Tribute

2011-09-28T16:18:00.000-07:00

Shortly after Amy Winehouse tragically died last month her two albums peaked the UK Albums Chart. I wonder if sales of R.E.M. cd's will soar in the next few weeks following their recent decision to call it a day. I am not trying to compare Winehouse's death with R.E.M.'s split, that would be disrespectful to the former, but I was interested in the publics reaction, both commercial and personal. Certainly on YouTube and an MSN forum there was a huge outpouring of feelings, mostly of sadness and appreciation. It is evident that they were still a very popular and much loved band right up to the end. As a lasped R.E.M. fan I have spent some time watching clips of them on YouTube and it has renewed my interest in their music. I have a soft spot for them because they were the first band that I was really into, like a first love in a musical sense. I will always associate R.E.M. with my adolscence. They were also the first band that I saw play live, at Murrayfield Stadium during their Monster tour. I was miles away from the stage but it was a memorable experience. They opened with 'What's The Frequency Kenneth?', which got the crowd bouncing. Thousands of lighters accompanied 'Everybody Hurts' and one guy nearby beagn jumping up and down shouting 'YES! YES!' when the opening chords of 'Losing My Religion' started up. The highlight was 'It's The End Of The World As We Know It', the climax of the show. A big screen behind the band projected images coming at great speed towards the auidence. Although it was a great experience this concert was the beginning of the end with regards to my fanship of R.E.M. I think they peaked with 'Out Of Time' and 'Automatic For The People' and they were never to retain the same creative heights. Their output since the mid 1990's was patchy, starting with the disappointing 'Monster', but it's better to remember R.E.M. at their best in the early 90's. 'Out Of Time' and 'Automatic For The People' are two classic rock/pop albums, and it has always amazed me that none of the singles from these two albums ever reached number 1 in the UK Singles Chart. Nevertheless these two albums catapultated them to international stardom, and, without demeaning the contribution of Mike Mills and Bill Berry, I think the secret of their success lies mainly with Michael Stipe and Peter Buck. Michael Stipe was a charismatic and talented frontman, possibly under-rated as a vocalist. He had a very interesting way of singing that made R.E.M. songs distinctive and appealing. The same can be said of guitarist Peter Buck. He was not a flashy guitarist but he was very important in creating the sound of the band. It will be interesting to see in what direction the band members will go. Maybe they need a fresh start and working with other musicians will renew their creative juices. So, to paraphrase one of their songs, it's the end of R.E.M. as we know them. Thanks for the great songs.

Away We Go

2011-09-21T08:52:00.000-07:00

This film was recommended to me by a female friend, so I was in a cautious and sceptical frame of mind when I slotted the Away We Go dvd into my television set, the complete Steven Seagal dvd collection at my side to rescue me from what I thought would be another tedious, predictable chick flick. How wrong I was, and how much I will have to grovel in apology to my friend Sana for constantly berating her movie tastes. Away We Go is a whimiscal road trip, following Burt and his pregnant girlfriend Verona as they visit different parts of North America in search of the ideal home in which to bring up their baby. Thanks to the many zany and colourful characters they meet along the way their road trip turns into a series of misadventures and this in turn makes them question what they want for themselves and their unborn child. What I loved most about his film is the relationship between the two central characters, Burt and Verona. John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph deserve so much praise for their performances. They have a great chemistry together, which only those with a heart of stone would fail to be moved and delighted at. Burt and Verona express their love and affection and faithfulness for each other in a completely natural and realistic way, a far cry from the false and chessy way that Hollywood often portrays romance and relationships. There are many other great things about this film. The script is both sharp and poignant, the acting is fantastic, and the cinematography and music set the perfect tone for the type of love and relationship that the director is trying to convey and the crossroads that Burt and Verona are at. Judging from the comments that I've read on YouTube the relationship that Burt and Verona have is what many people yearn for, so in a sense the film is quite inspirational. Many thanks to Sana for nagging me into watching this very sweet, funny, moving film. 8/10

'Come to me all you who labour, and I shall give you rest'

2011-09-10T12:56:00.000-07:00

The Return Of The Prodigal Son by Rembrandt

A friend sent me this story.

A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed. As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation. They talked about so many things and various subjects. When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said: 'I don't believe that God exists.'

'Why do you say that?' asked the customer.

'Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving God who would allow all of these things.'

The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument. The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop.

Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard. He looked dirty and unkempt. The customer turned back and entered the barbershop again and he said to the barber:

'You know what? Barbers do not exist.'

'How can you say that?' asked the surprised barber. 'I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!'

'No!' the customer exclaimed. 'Barbers don't exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside.'

'Ah, but barbers DO exist! That's what happens when people do not come to me.'

'Exactly!' affirmed the customer. 'That's the point! God, too, DOES exist! That's what happens when people do not go to Him and don't look to Him for help. That's why there's so much pain and suffering in the world.'

Edinburgh Festival Part 2

2011-08-31T14:36:00.000-07:00

Well, there's good news and there is bad news. The good news is that Alan survived his 'Mad Chris' Ibiza holiday. The fundamental reason he survived is because he did not go. The bad news (for myself and Tony and all other fans) is that Bert Jansch cancelled his concert last weekend and instead the pair of us got roped into going to a nightclub. This Saturday was an altogether more cultured affair. First stop was Isy Suttie: Pearl and Dave at The Pleasance Courtyard. Isy Suttie turned out to be a strangely attractive, slightly offbeat but likeable English comedian and actress who bounded onstage with a guitar and an appealing smile. Through a mixture of music, storytelling and comedy she told the whimsical story of 'Pearl and Dave', two characters who reconnect on the internet a few years after failing to act on the mutual attraction they experience the first time they meet at a holiday resort in the mid 1990's. My friend Tony felt that the story of Pearl and Dave began to wear a bit thin after a while, and I guess he had a fair point, but I quite enjoyed how it all unfolded, despite the growing sense that these two characters were a figment of her imagination rather than the real people she claimed them to be. At the very least I think a lot of creative license was applied. Isy is a fairly accomplished guitarist but I agreed with Tony when he observed that all her songs sounded the same. That was probably the weakest part of her act but on the whole I found her performance entertaining and I particularly liked the way she drank from her bottle of mineral water. She would occassionaly pause to take a slug from it like a hard drinking Russian swigging down a bottle of Vodka. After a quick pint and oggling (great word) at the pretty bairmaids we tallied forth (great expression) to the Symposium Hall to see Dr Phil's Rude Health Show.

For some bizarre reason, which I can only attribute to my brain being frazzled at the sight of so many beautiful girls, I had an image in my mind of a big bearded guy with a pirates eye patch and white doctors coat. However I immediately recognised him as the celebrity doctor (he is a real doctor) who appears on various tv shows and writes articles for a satirical magazine called Private Eye. We were hoping that Dr Phil would not make too many medical injokes but we had sufficient knowledge of the NHS (National Health Service) and the human anatomy to enjoy his amusing and insightful observations on the subject. He also included plenty of funny, and occassionally rude, ancedotes from his experience as a practising doctor, so his health show was anything but dry and exclusive. We then had a disastrous chip shop supper: 1) a fish supper cost £7 (outrageous but to be expected at the Festival) 2) Alan ate chips and cheese which came back to haunt him 3) I ordered a smoked sausage supper and then shortly dropped the sausage onto the pavement. It's just as well I did not pay £7 for it. I was severely disgruntled as we arrived at the Assembly Hall for Andy Parsons: Gruntled. Everybody knows this comedian as the bald guy from Mock The Week, a satirical and irreverant quiz show in which the pannelists conjure comedy out of current affairs. The Assembly Hall was packed to capacity, which prompted Tony to make a good obsevation about the pulling power of television.
Andy Parsons is a decent comedian but it is unlikely he would have had this impressive turnout without his regular slot on Mock The Week. Much of his comedy sprang from what was happening in the world of politics and current affarirs, which I did not mind, but it probably alienated a certain part of the audience. It was an enjoyable hour but only once or twice did I laugh with any real gusto. We then weaved our way in a mad dash to the Surgeons Grand for Get Carter, our second play of the Festival. I have not seen the film, much to Alan's amazement, but I had a rough idea of the plot. Jack Carter returns to his hometown to investigate the mysterious death of his brother and in the process he gets drawn into a seedy violent underworld. It was a gritty, hard-hitting production that was not for the faint hearted. It had very strong language and full frontal nudity (we squirmed in our seats as Jack Carter brandished a sawn-off shotgun while wearing only his socks). The acting was very good, making me curse Shia LaBeouf all the more, and the direction flowed along well enough to keep the audience engrossed. The only major flaw of the play was that the identity of some of the characters became confusing. The director or screenwriter should have aimed for a happy medium of making it clearer who exactly was who without diluting the plot or slowing down the action. After the play we had plenty of time to kill until our 1.30AM bus back to Glasgow so we chilled Snoop Dog style in the Pleasance Courtyard with a few alcoholic refreshments. Ideally we would have taken a limousine home Snoop Dog style but we had to suffer the company of a particularly annoying drunken idiot who continually told all the passengers that the bus was not on the correct road to Glasgow. If I had been the driver I would have stopped the bus and tossed him onto the hard shoulder, no doubt to rapturous applause, but that did not happend because life is rarely that just or fair. So thanks to CityLink the Festival started poorly and ended poorly, but everything else inbetween was jolly good fun.

Ending on a positive note

2011-08-23T09:08:00.000-07:00

Like most people, I have been disturbed by the rioting, looting and violence that occured in parts of London and other English cities earlier this month. For those who don't know, it was sparked by the fatal shooting of a man by police in London: there followed a protest march by friends and family of the departed, and although initially peaceful it soon erupted into violence and other criminal activities. I just want to make it clear that I don't condone such actions and those who are responsible should be brought to justice, but I think it is rich and hypocritical of our Prime Minister David Cameron and other politicans to take the moral high ground in their own condemnation of what has happened. It makes them look like strong leaders to take the moral high ground and use strong words against the criminals. In fact they are either incrediably narrowminded or completely out of touch with reality. They should have the courage and honesty to admit that generations of urban working class people have been neglected and the recent violence and looting are the consequences of this neglect. For generations politicans and the powers that be have failed to invest in adequate education, health care, community services and most of all employment, especially in these urban areas. It is little wonder that a significant proportion of this present generation of youth are completely devoid of hope and purpose. This violent reaction should be a wake up call for the nation but I fear that our politicians will take the easy option and punish the criminal element without addressing the deep rooted problems. I am genuinely amazed that these people get into positions of such power and influence. I could write another 500 words about how useless our politicians are but I will try to finish this blog entry on a positive note. My friend Jackie says that every movie should have a happy ending because real life can be depressing and tough. So here are a few uplifting quotes to end this blog on a high.

"How you think about a problem is more important than the problem itself. So always think positively." ~ Norman Vincent Peale

"There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate."
-Charles Dickens

"It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters." - Epictetus

Edinburgh Festival Part 1

2011-08-10T08:35:00.000-07:00

Time for more adventures in the capital. The day got off to a predictable start with the 11AM Citylink bus to Edinburgh full to capacity and it passed us by as we stood abject at the bus stop. As my friend Alan pointed out, Citylink run well enough under normal circumstances but you would think that they would run more buses during the Festival or when there is a major event taking place that might involve extra commuters. However, apart from an encounter with an unfriendly monosyllabic member of staff at Easterhouse Train Station, we got the train without much fuss and arrived in Edinburgh in good time. This year we decided to mix things up and branch out into other forms of entertainment rather than our usual diet of standup comedy. First on the bill was 'Singing I'm No A Billy, He's A Tim', a play that deals with the problem of football related bigotry and sectarianism in a humorous but uncompromising way. For those who don't know, a 'Billy' is a Protestant supporter of Rangers Football Club, a 'Tim' is a Catholic supporter of Celtic Football Club. There has been a long standing rivalary between the two clubs, often descending into hateful sectarianism due to the different religions and ethnic origins. The premis of the play is that a Ranger's fan and a Celtic fan get locked up in a prison cell on the day that the two rival clubs play. What follows is the inevitable tension and barrage of insults, each fan questioning the others prejudices and tinted views. However as the play develops they manage to find common ground, often helped by the objective presence of the police officer on duty, and an unlikey friendship is formed. The language throughout is extremely strong and crude, the playwrite maybe trying too hard to give the play a feeling of realism. Despite this it is well written and acted, funny, highly relevant and thought-provoking, and if the language was strongly toned down then I think it could be well worth while showing this play in schools around Scotland.
The rain greeted us as we emerged onto the streets of Edinburgh and it continued to pour heavily for the rest of the day. We found solage in The Three Sisters, a pub that boasted the prettiest barmaids in Scotland. While Tony and Alan watched rugby and sampled the draught cider I spent the next two hours trying to persuade the barmaids to relocate to my local pub in the east end of Glasgow, but alas my efforts were in vain. Our next location was The Spaces on the Mile, which to our bemusement turned out to be the Radisson Hotel. It did not seem like a typical fringe venue. We were there for Absolute Improv, a troupe of young comedy performers who improvise in scenarios and games aided by suggestions and collaboration from the audience. If you have seen Whose Line Is It Anyway? then it is very much like that. The performers were not in that class of comedy improv but they were undoubtedly quick witted and there were plenty of laughs. Not bad for £5.50. We rejoined the rain soaked crowds and headed straight to the Udderbelly's Pasture to see our next show. While waiting we sought shelter under a huge inflatible purple cow. I am infinitely relieved that it did not fall on top of us: that would probably be the most stupid way to die and something I don't want mentioned in my obituary.

Michael Winslow, billed as 'the man of 10,000 sound effects', is best known as the guy from the Police Academy films who makes lots of funny noises with his mouth. Our expectations were high and on the whole he did not disappoint. If his comedy was not always side splittingly funny then he more than made up for it with his sound effects. He did have the help of an effects pedal but nevertheless he possesses an extraordinary talent. It is well worth checking him out in action on YouTube as my words cannot do him justice. His Jimi Hendrix impression was particularly impressive. People outside the tent might well have thought that there was a guy playing a real guitar, such was the realism of his distorted guitar sound. All this from his mouth, quite amazing. So, despite the constant rain and my failure to kidnap any pretty barmaids it was a successful start to the Festival. I have not had a holiday this summer so I was really looking forward to the Festival this year and I was not disappointed. Next up, my guitar hero Bert Jansch in concert. Alan will be MIA* for this due to a holiday in Ibiza with 'Mad Chris', and if Mad Chris lives up to his name then Alan might be MIA for a long, long time. Watch this space.

* Missing In Action

Lucian Freud

2011-08-04T14:15:00.000-07:00

Frank Auerbach by Lucian Freud 1976

Love or loathe his style, not many people would deny that Lucian Freud was a painter of immense skill and dedication. The German born British artist focused on portrait and figurative paintings for the bulk of his career, and carved a niche in that part of the art world that was as distinct and brilliant as Rembrandt. Born in Berlin in 1922 Freud and his family fled Nazi Germany in 1933 and settled in London. He studied briefly at various colleges and schools of art before the war and his early work seemed to be strongly influnced by Surrealism, involving an experimental juxtaposition of figures and objects composed with a thin layer of paint. During the 1950's Freud underwent a significant change in style which would last for the rest of his career. He focused more on portraits and the nude, building up his paintings with a thick impasto of often muted colours. This technique would frequently involve cleaning his brush after each stroke. His models were usually friends and family, and he said of his work: 'The subject matter is autobiographical, it's all to do with hope and memory and sensuality and involvement, really.' For Freud, painting another human being was much more than just trying to capture a good likeness. There was a strong psychological dimension and each stroke seemed like an incision in trying to get under the subjects skin and expose the insecurities and flaws beneath. Art critic Martin Gayford had his portrait by Freud and remarked that it seemed to "reveal secrets—ageing, ugliness, faults—that I imagine...I am hiding from the world...". This is what some people might not like about his art. His approach was often raw and brutal and there is a certain nihilism that comes through, often in a subtle way. He has been compared with Francis Bacon and I can understand why. Their art was in many ways a response to the breakdown of 20th century society. It is not uplifting or wholesome and I personally would have major reservations about hanging it up on my bedroom wall. I don't think it would give an environment a positive or joyful vibe. Regardless, Freud is probably my favorite painter of the portrait and nude. His work is incrediably powerful and technically brilliant, and for some reason I find it fascinating, albeit in small doses.

Lucian Freud 1922 - 2011 REST IN PEACE

(Thanks to Tony Murphy for helping me to post the above image)

Top ten talented actors who deserve better film roles

2011-07-21T15:53:00.000-07:00

1. Richard E. Grant - He was outstanding as Withnail in the cult classic 'Withnail and I' back in the mid 1980's. During the 1990's he appeared in some decent supporting roles films such as L.A. Story and The Age Of Innocence but since then he has been criminally underused much to my astonishment and annoyance. An actor of his talent should regulary be seen in quality roles.

2. Christopher Walken - He is certainly regarded as a successful actor and a big movie star but, after watching his astonishing performance in The Deer Hunter, I am surprised that he has not been given similar meaty roles to get his teeth into, at least within mainstream cinema. He got the chance to flex his acting muscles in films such as True Romance and Catch Me If You Can but I feel he deserves better.

3. Michael Keaton - Probably my favourite Batman, Keaton is a very versatile actor. He was as convincing in his straight role in Jackie Brown as he was in his comic turns in Beetlejuice and Much Ado About Nothing. In the last ten years I have seen very little of him, which is a great pity.

4. Adrien Brody - His big breakthrough came in his Oscar winning performance in The Pianist. There followed a couple of interesting roles in The Village and The Jacket but his career has never really taken off on the back of his Oscar win. He was recently the lead role in the lastest of the Predator films. From the sublime to the ridiculous. I hope his career gets back on track.

5. Tim Roth - Best known as Mr Pink in Resevoir Dogs, Tim Roth has maintained a decent career but it has never really taken off in a way which reflects his talent. He was great as the villian in Rob Roy, for which he was nominated an Oscar, but like all the other actors on this list he deserves better film roles, especially since 2000 onwards.

6. Gabriel Byrne - Best known for his role in The Usual Suspects, Byrne has recently been starring in the hit US drama In Treatment, and I am glad to hear that his performance in this has been critically acclaimed. In between then he has dropped in and out of the radar, popping up in very average films such as Stigmata and Assault On Preccint 13. I hope his success in US television reignites his film career.

7. James Caan - Best known for his role as the hot tempered Sonny in The Godfather, a promising career lay ahead for James Caan but, with a couple of exceptions, it has never quite happened for him. The couple of exceptions are Misery and Way Of The Gun, and he is excellent in both. Oh of course, he is in Elf, but it's Will Ferrell who steals the show in that film.

8. Robert Carlyle - His finest hour as Begby in Trainspotting was also the role that launched his career, although he is probably best loved for playing Gaz in the massive British hit The Full Monty. Since then he his film roles have been steady but unspectacular. Hopefully he will be given better film roles to show his acting skills to a wider audience.

9. Michael Biehn - He burst onto the big screen in the mid 1980's as Kyle Reese in The Terminator and for a while things were looking good for Biehn. He starred in Aliens and put in a very impressive performance as a deranged navy seal in The Abyss. During the 1990's he had supporting roles in The Rock and Tombstone which are not to be sniffed at but perhaps the turning point in his career was Alien 3. Originally he was to be the main protagonist but in the final draft of the screenplay his character is killed off in the opening scene and the main role in the film went to Sigourney Weaver. His career might have taken a different path if he had landed the lead in Alien 3 and since then he has struggled to get significant roles.

10. Samuel L. Jackson - Perhaps the surprise choice in this list. He is certainly a massive movie star but since Pulp Fiction he has only had a small handful roles that have matched his acting talents, namely Jackie Brown, Changing Lanes and Lakeview Terrace.

Dumbing down

2011-07-14T14:59:00.000-07:00

I recently read an excellent and very interesting article by film critic Barry Norman. He discusses the idea that, following the box office and critical flops of certain films, the days of the 'movie star' are numbered and Hollywood is now catering to a certain niche of cinema goers, namely young people who are more attracted to special effects and blockbuster action than good acting and an interesting storyline. It's something that I have noticed myself over the past few years. Unfortunately these days film companies in Hollywood are increasingly more driven by profits and not the art of making powerful and meaningful cinema. The Transformers franchise is a prime example of this. It is film making at its worse but it has still managed to gross millions of dollars worldwide in box office sales. I could go on a rant about how Michael Bay, the director, has ruined what was a great tv cartoon series in the 1980's but my friend Tony has already done that on his own blog so I will not digress. I have noticed this same trend in mainstream music. Two words, Justin Bieber. And two more words, generic rubbish. I think there has been a general dumbing down in both contemporary mainstream music and cinema, but, and it's a big but, this generation is not yet a lost cause. There IS good contemporary film and music out there but these days, with a few exceptions like The King's Speech and Foo Fighters for example, you have look outside the mainstream market to find it. I've noticed on YouTube that people lament modern music and go on about the golden days of the 1960's when music had integrity and genuine talent. There was certainly an abundance of great music from the 1960's but I'm sure there were many generic bands of that time as well, now of course forgotten because they are not worth remembering. The same will be true, I hope, of Justin Bieber and Transformers.

A line in the sand

2011-06-29T11:57:00.000-07:00

While watching a tennis match recently at Wimbledon one of the commentators mentioned that a young female player of about 19 had undergone breast reduction surgery last year to advance her career. Apparently the size of her breasts limited her movement around the tennis court and caused her back pain. Apart from other things it made me think. (I won't tell you what those 'other things' are, 'least it bring a blush of shame to the cheek of modesty', to quote the wonderful P.G. Wodehouse.) Breast surgery, whatever the circumstances, is always a big decision and it made me think of the different reasons that would prompt a woman to take such a step. In my opinion, breast surgery for medical reasons, mostly to relieve back pain I would think, is perfectly sound and irreproachable. The same irreproachability would apply to plastic surgery for people who have been badly injured or burnt in an accident and people born with facial or bodily disfigurements. This is a great achievement of medical technology and skill, and a great thing of course for the recipients. Cosmetic surgery for non-medical reasons is more of a grey area. I used to frown on all types of comestic surgery but I have become a bit more open minded in my old age. I still frown a bit though. I don't understand women who have normal sized breasts undergoing surgery to make them even bigger. I don't agree with this and I think there are deeper issues that these women should address. However, breasts are an important part of a woman's identity and femininity, and flat chested women might be feel less attractive towards men because of their small breast size. A woman's body changes in order to attract men and I'm sure every woman wants to have this attractive power over men (and boy do they use that power!) As a red blooded male of course I find breasts attractive (although I don't why). So in saying that I can understand women getting breast enhancement if they are completely flat chested. In my eyes flat chested women are no less feminine than large chested women but I am not in their shoes so I don't know how it feels. If a woman's flat chest is affecting her confidence and sense of femininity then I think breast enhancement should not be automatically condemned. I can speak to a certain extent from experience. No, I have never had breast surgery, although I am tempted to go under the knife and get my man boobs reduced. As a kid I had prominent front teeth and I wore braces for a few years as a teenager. Wearing braces is not taboo and society does not frown upon improving your appearance in this way. So what is the difference between wearing braces and relying on other forms of cosmetic surgery? I am not exactly sure. I think it is normal to want to look good, there is nothing shallow or insecure about that. But I am of the opinion that it's better to grow old gracefully and accept yourself as you are. Although it is very important to look after your appearance there are some people who take it too far and become fixated on achieving outer beauty. To what extent we focus on our appearance often depends on the state of our inner self. It's strange, in that people with self-esteem problems will react in a different way. People suffering from depression often totally neglect their physical appearance. Similiarly, people with low self-esteem will put on layers of make-up and fake suntan to feel beautiful. For the record I find women like Katie Price distinctly unattractive and artifical. Ultimately, when it comes to comestic surgery and trying to improve our apperanace I think genuine self-esteem and a sense of our own self-worth will help us gain a healthy perspective and enable us to draw a line in the sand.

The Remains Of The Day

2011-06-21T07:29:00.001-07:00

The Remains Of The Day by Kazuo Ishiguro

I feel that I don’t have the ability to do justice to this great book but I shall try my best. The Remains Of The Day is told in the first person narrative by an old style English butler called Stevens as he takes a car journey to the West Country to meet an old friend and former colleague, Miss Kenton. This journey takes him outside his comfort zone and he begins to reflect over his life, most of it spent as head butler to Lord Darlington, an aristocratic gentleman involved in foreign affairs. There are two main threads to the story: firstly, Steven’s relationship with Lord Darlington and his view that in serving Lord Darlington to the best of his ability as head butler he is serving the greater interests of humanity. Despite recurring doubts he attempts to justify in his own mind that he has been true and right in pursuing this goal. In this sense he is correct, he did serve Lord Darlington with great loyalty and devotion but this came at a terrible cost. He was so focused on this goal that he does not allow himself to fully develop as a human being and interact with others in a real and normal way. This brings us to the second thread of the story: his relationship with Miss Kenton, the housekeeper of Darlington Hall. During his years of service as head butler Miss Kenton joins the staff as head housekeeper. She is a young, attractive, strong willed woman. In the early stages of their professional relationship they clash on various things, usually concerning aspects of housekeeping, but it becomes evident that this is down to a strong sexual tension between them. They slowly grow to respect and esteem each other and this interaction with Miss Kenton is the closest thing that Steven’s has to a meaningful relationship in his life but he represses his feelings for her, often avoiding or rejecting any flirtatious behaviour or intimacy that she tries to initiate. He is not a stupid man by any means but in many ways he is very blinkered in his thinking and flawed in his character. Perhaps that is a bit too harsh on him. His father was also a butler so you can imagine that this way of life and thinking is all Steven’s has ever known. At times, as a reader, you are wanting him to just express himself outside of his usual protocol and stop pretending. But these flaws do not make him an unsympathetic character. Despite his flaws he is essentially a good and well meaning man, much like Lord Darlington. Both are misguided and somewhat naïve and they are both limited and confined by the social class they were born into. Lord Darlington seems to be more free on the surface but he too is confined to his social class, mixing only with aristocrats and prominent public figure. The novel is in some ways a damning condemnation of the trappings of the social class system. The reader could easy conceive that in different circumstances both men would have lived much happier and fulfilling lifes. The Remains Of The Day is essentially a tragedy, although not in a dramatic or extraordinary way. One reviewer described the book as ’quietly devastating’ and the power of the unfolding tragedy is brilliantly written by Kazuo Ishiguro, who thoroughly deserved to win the Booker Prize for this masterpiece. His command of the English language is superb, and the fact that English is not his mother tongue makes his achievement all the more impressive.
The Remains Of The Day - 9/10

Of Gods And Men

2011-06-16T15:24:00.000-07:00

Of Gods And Men, based on actual events, is a French film set in Algeria in the mid 90's and centers around a small community of Cisterian monks who come under the threat of Muslim fundamentalists. I was greatly impressed by this film so I popped onto the Amazon website to see how much the dvd cost. Most of the reviews by other customers were extremely positive and many gave the film full marks but I came across one guy's review which really annoyed me so much that I left a comment on the website.

His review:

'Long,slow,uninspiring and tedious film about a bunch of ageing cistercian monks caught in the islamist uprising in Algeria in the 1990s.
I find it impossible to have any sympathy for any of the characters. These 8 christians,boring, irresponsible and selfish out of touch freaks but with a clear conscience ,lucky them, are in my eyes as fanatically dangerous and reprehensible as their muslim extremist'brothers': willing martyrs to religous fanaticism. Whether they end up basking in heaven or rotting in hell should not be any concern of mine and will leave many unmoved and exasperated.'

My response:

'I watched Of Gods And Men last night. I could not disagree with you more. I thought this was a very powerful and moving film. The cinematography was beautiful, the actors were totally convincing in their roles, and the story compelling. I found the comments about the monks being 'boring, irresponsible, and selfish out of touch freaks' and being 'fanatically dangerous and reprehensible' both perplexing and inaccurate. They lived peacefully with their Muslim brothers and sisters, never trying to convert them or undermine their beliefs (hardly fanatical). They had a medical clinic which many sick people used (hardly selfish) and the Muslim community respected and loved these men. You can see that the majority of the reviews on this website are very positive about this film, and I bet that a lot of those who gave positive reviews are not necessarily religious. You don't have to be religious or even believe in God to enjoy and appreciate this film. You are totally entitled to your own opinion on this film and free to express it but your own comments seemed 'extreme' to me.'

I was not so much annoyed that he found the film 'long, slow, uninspiring and tedious'. I disagree but that's fine, we all have different tastes in film. It was his comments about the moral character of the monks and their way of life that I found insulting and unfair. I guess I am angry because I have been going to a Cisterian monastery guest house called Nunraw since I was eight years old and I have met these 'out of touch freaks' on many occasions. I refute all the insulting and inaccurate labels that he put on the monks. I have read a bit about the Cisterian monks portrayed in the film and by all accounts they sounded exactly like the the monks I have known over the years at Nunraw. In short, very good, down to earth men. There is nothing fanatical about them. Their way of life may seem extreme to many 'normal' people but I can assure you that they are much more well adjusted and sane than some of the broken souls leading what appears to be a normal life in the eyes of modern society. I just want to defend these good men from some guy with a chip on his shoulder and what I would consider his 'extreme' views concerning their moral character.

The film itself is wonderful. My cousin described it as 'beautiful cinema' and I thoroughly agree with him.

Of Gods And Men - 9/10

Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas

2011-06-10T13:51:00.000-07:00

The iconic opening scene of Saving Private Ryan, which depicts the Allied invasion of Normandy during WWII, is probably the closest I've ever felt to actually being in a warzone. Spielberg masterfully recreates the violence, fear, confusion and horror of going into battle in such a realistic way that the viewer gains a powerful emotional insight of what the experience was really like for the soldiers who fought and died on those beaches. Terry Gilliam's Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas, though dealing with a different subject, achieves a similar goal. Watching Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas is the closest I've came to experiencing a drug induced nightmare. Based on a Hunter S. Thompson novel, the film follows the misadventures of a journalist (Johnny Depp) and his lawyer friend (Benicio Del Toro) rampaging through Las Vegas while under the continous influence of a potent cocktail of drugs. The journalist is officially there to cover a rally car race in the Nevada desert but their desire and capacity to induce copius amounts of alcohol and drugs takes precedent over this and they wander from one mindbending scenario to another. Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro (two of my favorite contemporary actors) are outstanding in the lead roles. My aunt once said that when she first watched the film she seriously began to wonder if Johnny Depp really was on drugs, such was his utterly convincing performance. There is a strong, almost overpowering, surrealism running through the whole film. This surrealism permeates everything - the acting, script, plot, set designs, music and cinematography. I can't say that I enjoyed this film. It was deeply disturbing and unsettling, but I can appreciate the skill and vision of Terry Gilliam. There is no moral message to the film, at least not directly. It is more an exploration of individual drug use and a portrayal of the drug culture in the late 1960's and early 1970's, which is of course still very relevant today. In that sense the film suceeds very well. The question of why these two men consume so many drugs is never really tackled but their portrayal in this film reminded me of a line in a poem by Ernest Dowson. 'I cried for madder music and for stronger wine.'
7/10

Andy Murray

2011-06-03T10:13:00.000-07:00

Apologies for the extended leave of absence on blogworld. I've been under the weather for the past month. One of the consolations of being off work these past few weeks has been watching the French Open at Roland Garrios. Andy Murray was the sole British hope throughout the tournament and he will probably have this burden on his shoulders for the rest of his career. His previous best at the French Open was the quarter finals but the draw was kind to him this year and he reached the semi's only to be beaten earlier this afternoon by Rafa Nadal in straight sets. It was an admirable effort by Murray and he played some good tennis. Although the better player won on the day Murray still continues to fall just short in the major tournaments. He has all the natural ability, technical skill and fitness so why can Murray not make this next step up? I don't have a definitive answer but two things became apparent during the match against Nadal. Firstly, as John Lloyd commented on, Nadal won the big points at crucial times in the match. Murray had plenty of opportunties to break Nadal's serve, eighteen in all, but only won three. I am not sure why he failed in this department but I think a lot of credit should go to Nadal for raising his game when it counts. I have noticed over the years of watching tennis that what often seperates the very good players from the top players is that the top players have the knack of winning a point when they most need to. Pete Sampras used to do this all the time. Whenever his back was up against the wall he would serve a couple of aces. Secondly, I think Murray's mentality lets him down a lot. There is nothing wrong in showing emotion during a game but he gets very negative at times when he plays a bad shot. He can get away with this when playing inferior players but it is a definite disadvantage against the top ten players. I am not sure whether Murray will ever win a major. He has the ability and all the shots, of that there is no doubt, but he needs to find that something extra to overcome the likes of Nadal, Djokovic and Federer. It perhaps unfortunate that Murray is competing at a time when these three outstanding players are dominating the game but you have to play with the cards you have been dealt.

Top ten worst actors

2011-04-20T03:15:00.000-07:00

1. Keanu Reeves
2. Shia Lebouf
3. Jean Claude Van Damme
4. Jason Stratham
5. Vinnie Jones
6. Ben Affleck
7. Kiera Knightly
8. Martin Lawerence
9. Daniel Radcliffe
10. Orlando Bloom

The King's Speech

2011-03-02T06:47:00.000-08:00

Sorry for not writing anything during February. I just couldn't be buggered. I thought of inventing some excuses but they were not very plausible. Stuff like I had been abducted by aliens but they did not have access to the internet on their spaceship. That's not very plausible because surely an alien species who have the advanced technology to travel millions of light years to earth must have the technology to tap into the internet. Anyway, The King's Speech. A friend asked me to review this multi award winning film for my blog, so this is dedicated to Louise Robertson. The King's Speech documents the coming to the throne of King George VI, the present Queen's late father, and his painful battle to overcome a crippling speech impediment. I am not a fan of the royal family by any means and I often find it hard to relate to them but the human element side of the story overshadowed any existing prejudices. I think this film will help improve the popularity of the royal family but more importantly it gives a voice to a man who showed a lot of quiet courage and perseverance and to a lesser extent acknowledges the loyalty and patience of his speech therapist. The film opens with the British Empire Exhibition in 1925 and the future king George VI, at that time Prince Albert (but known to close family and friends as 'Bertie') has to make the closing speech in front of thousands of spectators. It's painful to watch as he stammers and falters. After many unsuccessul attempts at speech therapy he enlists the help of the Lionel Logue, an unorthodox Australian speech therapist, in one final attempt to overcome his crippling stammer. An unlikely friendship develops as they work together and gradually Bertie gains confidence in public speaking and begins to exert some control over his stammer. The friendship is not without it's trials. Bertie may be royalty but he's portrayed in a very human light. At times he can be snobbish and bad-tempered, but essentially he is a good man who just wants to live quietly with his wife and family. It therefore makes for good cinema when the burden of Kingship is unfairly thrust upon him. His playboy brother, Edward, abdicates to marry an American divorcee and Bertie must face his worst nightmare. If this situation had unfolded fifty years before his time it would not have been such a burden but now through the expansive media of radio the King now has a voice that his subjects expect to hear. The culmination of the film is his radio broadcast to the nation at the outbreak of the second world war. It's my favorite part of the film and my summation of the scene reflects the rest of the film. It's beautifully directed and paced, the music is perfect, the dialogue is well rounded and hits the right note, and the acting is superb. The use of the music is very clever in this scene, as Lionel is almost directing Bertie through the first few sentences of the speech just like a conductor directing an orchestra. Colin Firth deserves his Oscar. He is totally convincing in the role. In an interview he said that pretending to stutter was the most physically demanding and draining acting that he has ever done. Geoffrey Rush, Helena Boham-Carter and Guy Pierce are great in their supporting roles and I'm glad Rush and Boham-Carter were nominated for an Oscar. It's great cinema: entertaining, poignant, funny and powerful. We need more films like this. Films that spend more time and budget on the script, casting, story and direction, without having to rely on box office names, tedious action sequences and special effects to compensate for poor dialogue and acting.
The King's Speech 9/10

Richard Thompson and Kristin Hersh

2011-01-29T15:26:00.000-08:00

Richard Thompson may not be a household name but the main auditorium at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall on Tuesday was nearly full to capacity. But before I continue on my review of his concert let me give you a quick biography.
He was born in London in 1949. His father was an amateur guitarist and Richard was exposed to jazz, rock and roll and folk throughout his early years. He co-founded the folk rock band Fairport Convention aged 18 and they released two albums. During this time he came to be regarded as an outstanding guitarist (he was in the top 20 of Rolling Stone‘s Top 100 Guitarists of All Time). His first solo album in 1972 - Henry the Human Fly - was a critical and commercial failure. In fact it is Warner Bros worst selling album, ever. Something which Thompson mentioned proudly during the concert. Throughout the 1970’s and early 80’s he collaborated with his then wife Linda, releasing albums that were generally well received on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. Their marriage and musical partnership ended in the early 80’s and Richard has toured and recorded solo ever since, accumulating a loyal fan base over the years.
I have seen Richard twice before in concert and he was electrifying. Last year he covered songs from ‘a thousand years of popular music’, starting with medieval ballads and working his way right through to pop classics such as ‘Money, Money, Money’, all delivered with his distinctive and creative aplomb. Not many musicians have the imagination and craftsmanship to pull that off. It was a very Richard Thompson thing to do. This Celtic Connections gig, however, was more conventional. Well, as conventional as you can get with somebody as creative, quirky and off the wall as Richard. The first half of his set was comprised of songs from his latest album ‘Dream Attic’. The second half was a sort of greatest hits selection. Like moths drawn to a light, Richard was surrounded by musicians of the highest order. He could stand alone no problem but his band added a fuller flavour to the evenings entertainment. Richard stayed electric most of the night, only once treating us to some of his acoustic skills. His solos were the highlight of the concert. He would flick a peddle at his feet, giving his guitar some distortion to bring the solo out more, and soar through scales with great imagination and style. With his trademark berry at a rakish angle he seemed to be enjoying himself. His banter was good as well, introducing each song with a funny comment or anecdote. Ticket prices were not cheap but he played for at least two hours and such was the quality of his music you went home feeling that you had got your money's worth.

Kristin Hersh was a blast from the past. She is the co-founder and front woman of alternative rock band Throwing Muses. I was into their music as a teenager but when my cd collection started to replace my now obsolete cassette tape collection Throwing Muses sort of got lost. I don't know why, they are such a great band and pioneers in rock music. I certainly intend to get into their music again. Anyway, I happened to pop into Waterstone's bookstore to collect a book that I had ordered and a poster promoting 'An evening with Kristin Hersh' caught my eye and I quickly snapped up a ticket. She was in the UK promoting her new book 'Paradoxical Undressing', which is essentially a memoir of her late teen years based on a diary she kept at that time. The 'evening' with her would include acoustic perfomance of some songs, reading excerpts from her book and signing copies of whatever you wanted her to sign. It was held in the basement of Waterstones and there was small stage set up with chair and mike for her. The place was packed with fellow Doc Martin wearing intellectuals like myself (ha!). Kristin is petite, cute, shy and possesses really beautiful vivid eyes. The whole set lasted about 45 minutes. There was a song, reading, song, reading, etc. Her acoustic performance was offbeat, raw and distinctive. It was certainly not easy listening rubbish like JLS, that's for sure. Her readings were quirky, funny and occassionaly poignant. I am a third of the way through the book just now and she is a very good writer. When it came to the signing session I found myself third in the queue. This was not through the ardent desire of a die hard fan, more through the fact that people were still to buy copies of her book. The guys in front of me were obviously those die hard fans and chatted away about stuff relating to Throwing Muses. I began to grow uneasy. I could not approach her and say 'Oh, I used to like your music'. When my turn did come I just took a deep breath and asked her to sign my book. While she did this I got a better chance to admire her lovely eyes up close. Although shy, she was very pleasant and polite and after shaking her hand I came away with a big smile. I don't know if I got a buzz from meeting a famous person or meeting a famous person who is not arrogant or egocentric. I don't know but I was certainly charmed. I had recently read about a guy who has spent the last 13 years tracking down celebrities for their autographs, spending about £150,000 in the process. I can't see myself ever doing that, but I would like to meet more famous men and women that I admire, just to see what they are like. So, does anybody have Rachel McAdam's phone number by any chance? I know it's a long shot but, as they say, he who dares, wins. Or in my case, he who dares goes to prison for stalking.

The link in my life between Natalie Portman and Saint Augustine

2011-01-12T10:45:00.001-08:00

There was a small column in a newspaper a few weeks ago about the actress Natalie Portman. She is engaged and expecting her first child. I read this much to my dismay as I’ve made it painfully obvious in the course of my blogs over the past year and a half that I’ve had a longtime crush on this beautiful and intelligent lady. So that is another door closed. I should be happy for her but part of me was thinking something like ‘well if I can’t have her then nobody can!’ Although we are worlds apart, figuratively and literally, there was always some small part of me that thought that maybe, just maybe, under the right circumstances we would meet and fall in love and get married and live happily ever after. Well that insane hope is now definitely squashed. I’ll just have to focus my attentions onto Rachel McAdams, again with the same insane hope that faces improbable odds. To marry your spouse you effectively have to renounce every other women in the world. It’s a strange way of looking at it. I have often seen myself with many women but the reality of actually choosing one for the rest of my mortal life is quite something. I don’t think any one person can fulfil all the needs of the other, however much it might be a loving and faithful marriage. There is always some part of us that is yearning and calling out for something more. This is not a bad thing. It just proves that that we are human and we are shackled by our human failings and limitations. I think Saint Augustine summed it up perfectly: Thou hast created us for Thyself, and our heart is not quiet until it rests in Thee.

Best of 2010

2011-01-03T07:49:00.000-08:00

Best films of 2010

1. The Social Network
2. Inception
3. The Blind Side
4. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
5. Up In The Air
6. A Prophet
7. The Road
8. Toy Story 3
9. The Disappearance Of Alice Creed
10. Brothers

Best albums (that I bought in 2010)

1. Fur And Gold by Bat For Lashes
2. Sew Sea by Lisa Hannigan
3. Lungs by Florence And The Machine
4. Two Suns by Bat For Lashes
5. Martha Wainwright by Martha Wainwright
6. Dream Attic by Richard Thompson
7. Funeral by Arcade Fire
8. A Collection by Anne Briggs
9. The Best of Frank Zappa
10. I Know You're Married But I've Got Feelings Too by Martha Wainwright

Best dvds (that I watched in 2010)

1. Crash
2. Talk To Her
3. My Life As A Dog
4. Open Your Eyes
5. The Fountain

Best books (that I read in 2010)

1. A Tale Of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
2. The Tenderness Of Wolves by Stef Penney
3. Snow Falling On Cedars by David Guterson
4. The Mill On The Floss by George Eliot
5. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
6. A Painted House by John Grisham
7. Alone In Berlin by Hans Fallada
8. Engleby by Sebastian Faulks
9. The Reader by Bernard Schlink
10. White Teeth by Zadie Smith

I read many excellent books in 2010 so it was very difficult to narrow it down to just ten and rank them accordingly. Here are a few honourable mentions that didn't quite make the list: The Post Office Girl by Stefan Zweig, The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson, The Other Hand by Chris Cleave, Dune by Frank Herbert, The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, Two Caravans by Marina Lewycka, The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold and Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom.
I want to give an extra special honourable mention to Miss Smilla's Feeling For Snow by Peter Hoeg which didn't make last years list simply because I totally forget to include it. It's an excellent book.
Perhaps the surprise inclusion in 2010's book list is A Painted House by John Grisham. He's actually a very accomplished writer and maybe doesn't get the credit he deserves.

I wish everybody a blessed and happy 2011.

Shakespeare biography

2010-12-30T15:10:00.000-08:00

The only non-fiction book I’ve read this year, not including Playboy and The Bible, is a biography of William Shakespeare by one of my favourite writers, Bill Bryson. It was given to me as a present a few years ago more of the strength that I am a Bryson fan rather than being an avid devotee of ‘the baird’. I studied Romeo and Juliet at high school, and to be honest I found it rather difficult to get my head around Shakespeare’s use of language. It is gospel that Shakespeare had a wonderful grasp of the English language. I do not refute this, but for some reason I struggle with his work. We went to see Hamlet at the King’s Theatre and I did not have a clue what was going on. I laughed when everybody else laughed, etc, and I enjoyed the bloody ending but most of it was lost on me. I am a late developer in most areas of life so maybe I’ll come to appreciate and enjoy his work in my fast approaching middle age. I liked Baz Lurman’s version of Romeo and Juliet, but this was more to do with Lurman’s vivid and quirky direction. I quite enjoyed Kenneth Branagh’s cinematic take on Hamlet and Much Ado About Nothing but maybe they should provide subtitles for idiots like me so that we can keep abreast with the plot and character development, etc. Anyway, back to Bryson’s biography of Shakespeare. It’s succinct, well researched and insightful. He does the best he can with the limited evidence and knowledge of Shakespeare. Of course we would love to know more about this much celebrated and enigmatic genius but I was actually quite content learning about the different aspects of Elizabethan culture. Bryson does a good job of bringing it all to life. It is anything but dry and academic. Bryson’s last four books have not been travel books. The memoir of his childhood was a journey of sorts but not a physical one. Maybe he is tired of travelling and being away from his home and family. Or maybe he just wants to widen his literary scope. He certainly has the talent and skill to write about anything. He could write about the mating habits of salamanders and turn it into a best seller.
Shakespeare by Bill Bryson 8/10

A call to arms

2010-12-10T15:56:00.000-08:00

This is a call to arms. Below is a draft of a letter I intend to send to David Cameron and George Osbourne. I encourage you, yes YOU reader, to get writing and let these posh bastards know that we are not happy with the status quo and with the policies they intend to implement. Round One, Ding Ding!

Dear Mr Cameron/Mr Osbourne,

I have three points to make.

Firstly, the current government are determined on cracking down on benefits cheats. This is obviously the right course of action but it seems to take a much higher priority than bringing to justice those who are guilty of tax evasion. The Inland Revenue lose about £95 billion in corporate tax through companies and individuals parking assets offshore and employing clever accountants to exploit existing loopholes. Why do you allow this? Instead of cutting public sector jobs and welfare benefits the government should take back the lost billions through closing tax loopholes and pursuing those who evade paying tax. This would more than half the national deficit.

Secondly, George Osbourne declared that we are 'all in this together'. I beg to differ. There are many millionaires in the present cabinet. How on earth can they be in it together with the poor and disadvantaged of society? The following is an example. Recent figures show that around 650,000 carers save the Scottish Government over £7 billion a year. One lady, Muriel Warwick, cares for her elderly mother who suffers from dementia and gets paid £240 a month in carer's allowance. That is £7 a day for 24 hours care. You keep referring to your cuts in welfare and public spending as 'tough but fair'. £7 a day is certainly tough but not fair.

Thirdly, will there be significant reform to avoid a repeated banking crisis?

Yours sincerely,

Michael James Gilfedder.

Our hidden lives

2010-11-25T15:59:00.000-08:00

A passage from the excellent BBC dramatization of George Eliot's 'Middlemarch'. Judi Dench is the voice of the narrator. Dorothea is one of the main characters. She has great hopes of intellectual advancement and helping her fellow man. But...

"And Dorothea. She had no dreams of being praised above other women, feeling that there was always something better which she might have done, if she had only been better and known better. Her full nature spent itself in deeds which left no great name on the earth, but the effect of her being on those around her was incalcuable. For the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts and on all those Dorothea's who live faithfully their hidden lives and rest in unvisited tombs."

This is not just a beautifully written conclusion to a great story but it hits home at the very heart of the experience of the vast majority of the ordinary human beings who 'live faithfully their hidden lives'. I can strongly identify with Dorothea's aspirations and her disappointments all too well. Not many of us will get the chance to achieve a great historic act that will reverberate down through history. If we are sincere in our good acts then we should not worry about that but there is always something in us that wants to achieve more for the greater good of the world, or at least in my case sometimes for the good of my own ego. We all suffer the frustration and pain of being largely futile in the face of the injustices and suffering that we witness on tv or read in the newspaper or pass in the street. We do what little we can but for the large part we just have to accept the way of the world. It is something I have personally found difficult to accept and I've had to learn not to take the burden of the world on my shoulders. To quote Mother Theresa: "In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love." You don't have to be religious to appreciate the wisdom and truth of those words. They are relevant in the psychological realm as well as the spiritual. The effect of Dorothea's 'being' on her neighbours and friends cannot be underestimated. I know many ordinary people who are loving and caring and kind, and I am blessed by this and it gives me strength and hope. To quote this time Tolstoy: "Everyone thinks of changing the world but no one thinks of changing himself." How true. How I wish our politicans would take these words to heart. I hope that I too may have the courage and humility to live faithfully my hidden life with love and integrity, just like Dorothea. So, when you meet me the next time, don't call me Michael, just call me Dorothea.

Top Ten Celebrity Crush List 2010

2010-11-10T16:35:00.000-08:00

1. Winona Ryder (beautiful eyes)
2. Eliza Doolittle (the best pair of legs in music)
3. Gemma Arterton (sadly now married)
4. Shakira (her hips drive me crazy)
5. Eva Green (still single so I'm in with a chance)
6. Uma Thurman (she's too tall so in reality a relationship is unlikely)
7. Penny from The Big Bang Theory (she's the only reason I watch the show)
8. Zheng Ziyi (a Chinese Natalie Portman)
9. Emily Blunt (marry me Emily!)
10. Rose Byrne (brains and beauty, a winning combination)

A knock at the door

2010-11-03T06:38:00.001-07:00

I’m sitting in front of the tv in a stupor. There’s a knock at the door. It must be Toni and Cody looking for my mum. As I pass the kitchen my mum mouths ‘I’m not in’. She’s tired. I open the door to reveal the two girls. Cody is taller with dusky red hair and a few teeth missing. Toni has long dark blonde hair and it swirls around her slender neck. Dirt is smeared around her pretty face. She has a twinkle in her eye.
‘Can we speak to Nancy?’
‘My mum’s actually busy just now doing the dishes. Maybe tomorrow.’
‘We’ve finished our dinner.’
‘Have you? That’s great’
‘We ate all of it.’
‘Did you? What did you eat?’
‘Fish cakes,’ says Cody, ‘with loads of chips.’
‘What did you have?’ I ask Toni.
‘The same. I was at her place. Maybe next week I can go again. Or have a sleepover.’
‘She doesn’t live here,’ says Cody.
‘Where do you live Toni?’
She thinks for a moment.
‘What part of Glasgow?’ I add, trying to help.
‘Cambuslang.’
‘Who do you stay with?’
‘Em, my mum, my aunt, my big brother, my two wee brothers,’ all in one breath.
‘That’s a lot of people in one house,’ I observe.
‘I have just four,’ says Cody. ’My mum, my dad, Reece and my dog.’
‘Your dog is not family,’ corrects Toni.
‘Well,’ I interpose, ‘for some people a pet is like a member of the family. Like our tiger.’
I turn slightly and nod in the direction of a large fluffy tiger sitting at the back of the hallway. They strain their necks to look. Somebody had given it to my sister but she thought it was kitsch and was going to throw it out. My mum took a liking to it and gave the tiger a home. It has guarded over us ever since. We named him Tony.
They both grin in amusement.
‘That?’
‘Yeah, sure. He’s part of our family. I talk to him at night when he comes alive.’
‘No he doesn’t.’
‘He does, I swear.’
Toni cocks her head sideways.
‘Can we have a sticker?’
I hesitate for a moment but I already know the answer. I’m soft hearted when it comes to children.
‘Sure. Just a minute.’
I edge into the kitchen where my mum is sitting on a stool, a cup of tea in her hands.
‘Where are the stickers?’ I whisper.
‘In Christina’s room, on top of the pink box.’
I search the room and find them.
‘Can we have three?’ asks Cody, as I hand them over.
‘Yeah.’
They inspect the selection. After a few moments Toni chooses a pink ‘Good Girl’ sticker and attaches it to her white T-shirt. Cody is undecided. Earlier on they had turned up at our doorstep and announced to my mum that they had tidied up Toni’s garden and picked up all the litter. They were rewared with stickers and now they were back for more. Cody fiddles with the stickers. She is thinking something over.
‘Can we give the tiger a sticker?’
I drag the tiger to the door and she places a star on his nose.
‘Pick some for yourself,’ I suggest.
They ponder for a few minutes, taking their time to choose.
‘Okay girls,’ as I gently take the stickers back, ‘I have got some work to do.’
I put a hand on the edge of the door but they still stand there.
Toni opens her arms out.
‘A cuddle?’
I smile, touched.
I reach down and give her a hug. She is so small and fragile. I hesitate and then reach over to Cody and give her a quick hug.
I feel a warm glow inside.
‘Okay, girls,’ closing the door slowly, ‘take care.’
‘Bye!’ they chime.
I close the door with a smile on my face.

My Son My Son What Have Ye Done

2010-09-30T15:34:00.000-07:00

Directed by Werner Herzog and produced by David Lynch this film is an uncompromising and disturbing study of one man's descent into a madness which results in him killing his mother. Willem Dafoe and Michael Pena are the cops who arrive at the murder scene but the situation becomes more immediate when the killer, played brilliantly by Brad Dourif, barracades himself in his house and claims to have two hostages. As the two cops interview his fiance and close friend the narrative of the killers increasingly unstable mental state unfolds in flashbacks. The fact that what unhinges the killer is never really crystal clear is probably a deliberate choice, as the madness of the subject is usually incomprehensible to the outsider. Although there is no explicit sex or violence the flashbacks are very strange, offbeat and disturbing in their content and tone. It's hard to explain, but the way his insanity is portrayed really gets under your skin. Much of what he does and says throughout the film makes no sense, or maybe I just did not understand the reasons for his behavour. I guess this is the whole point about the nature of madness, there are no clear cut questions and answers, but a strange muddled mixture of experiences and conversations that are very dark and unattainable. The music and unconventional cinematography play a large role and are very effective in creating atmosphere and mood. The cast is very strong but it is Brad Dourif as the insane killer who steals the show. He is utterly convincing. The ending is a bit obvious and anti-climatic but it's not the sort of film that would go down the route of an exciting, Hollywood climax, so in a sense the film is true to itself. 7/10

Pope's visit

2010-09-17T16:18:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately I was unwell and could not attend the papal mass. I was very disappointed personally but I was glad that everything, the mass, the crowd turnout and atmosphere, etc, seemed to be great. The media coverage was actually very positive the following day. The Pope seemed to enjoy it very much and I think he was touched by the warm and welcoming response of the Scottish people, both in Edinburgh and Glasgow. There was a few pathetic bampots who held up a 'No surrender' flag and Union Jack at a bridge overlooking the M8. Ian Paisley and a few other anti-Catholic nutters held a small protest, although not all those critical of the Pope and the Catholic Church are nutters. Ultimately Ian Paisley and his mob were far outnumbered by those glad to see the Holy Father. So I think the country will definitely be blessed in some way. How, I'm not sure, maybe in many ways that we will never know if this life. Maybe it will bring some lapsed Catholics back to their faith or renew the faith of lukewarm Catholics. The Pope was gracious and warm but he was not afraid the preach the gospel and encourage religious belief and practise. I think he got a very good balance. He praised Britain as a 'force for good', trying to recognise the democracy we enjoy and have fought for, but he also warned the young people against the evils of drink, drugs and sex (ie, promiscuity). Today, in London, he meet with representitives from the Church of England in a show of Christian unity, so I was glad to see them all pulling together in an ecumenical spirit. We have a common enemy, in the form of relativism and secularism. I think he'll have to pace himself physically over the next two days. He's 83 and does not have the same energy of John Paul 2 when he visited about 30 years ago. He does not have the same charisma and confidence of JP2 but I think he has his own gifts and qualities that have come through very strongly so far. Maybe some Catholics were hoping for a more reforming and charismatic pope but I think we should be grateful for Joe, he's a really good man and a very worthy pope.

These are just a few thoughts of an ordinary Catholic guy.

Mark Nelson and Rhod Gilbert at the Edinburgh Festival

2010-09-05T09:56:00.001-07:00

This was my fourth and final visit to this years Edinburgh Festival. On Thursday I had gone through myself to see the legendary singer-songwriter Bert Jansch in concert. He was great. It was just a privilege to see him play live, he is such an amazing guitarist. I hope he plays again next year. It was also good just to see something other than comedy at the Festival. On Saturday myself, Tony and Alan arrived in Edinburgh about 5PM, leaving us enough time to find the Underbelly in Cowgate and have a quick pint before the Mark Nelson gig. We had seen Mark Nelson before not so long ago, so some of his material we had already heard. He's a decent comedian, with good obversational skills and comic delivery. He is much in the same mould as Kevin Bridges but not quite in his class. Still I quite enjoyed the set and I would probably be happy to see him again in the future. Some strong language and a bit crude at times but nothing too bad. Our next destination was the EICC, with a quick chippy dinner along the way. It was me who suggested that we see the likable Welsh comedian Rhod Gibert so I felt the burden of responsibility rest on my shoulders as we took our seats in one of the EICC's main auditoriums. His set was basically one long very amusing rant. He delivered it with great energy and enthusiasm, and at times it almost took on the feeling of a theatrical piece. Maybe he should try his hand at acting because even though it was supposed to be comedy I was strangely moved at times and got emotionally caught up in his dramatic monologues. He was funny as well, in a kind of crazy way. We managed another pint at the Waverly before taking the bus back to Glasgow. It has been another successful Festival experience. Some acts were better than others, but on the whole I've enjoyed it and I look forward to next year. Bert Jansch 10/10 Mark Nelson 6/10 Rhod Gilbert 7/10

Tim Vine and Fred MacAulay at the Edinburgh Festival

2010-08-27T15:08:00.000-07:00

Tony could not make it this week because he was already committed to the stag weekend from hell. His future brother-in-law and some other guys he had never met before were headed for Blackpool (?) and a 'hotel' that specifically catered to suit the needs of stag weekends. Alan and I just hoped that we would see our friend alive again. At the very least a new kidney would be required. An old school friend had said he would take Tony's place but unfortunately he pulled out on the day so it was just Alan and I on the bus through to Edinburgh. We arrived in the pouring rain and battled our way to the Pleasance courtyard for the Tim Vine gig. After a couple of pints sheltered under a canopy we headed out into the rain to find the venue. We were met with a cue the size of Eisteins IQ. It gives you an idea of Tim Vine's popularity. I don't know why the organisers thought it necessary to make us wait out in the pouring rain but at least the rain drops filling my half full pint glass made the pint last longer. Tim Vine's show was called the Joke-amotive and gives you some idea of the style and content of his humour. His jokes are rapid one liners, often using puns and word play. He currently holds the world record for the most number of jokes in a hour (499). He delivers his jokes very well, with great energy and comic timing. Even just to remember that amount of material is in itself very impressive. One of his jokes won an award as 'best joke of the festival'. The joke was 'I've just been on a once-in-a-lifetime holiday. I'll tell you what, never again.' That is a typical Tim Vine joke. He also used a lot of props in his routine. One of my favorites is when he held up a sign which read 'BNAG' and he quipped 'Now that's BANG out of order!' I really enjoyed his show. Yes it was corny but it was very clever and it made me laugh. Good clean wholesome fun. In true festival spirit our next stop was the pub, full of interesting characters, and then a quick stop at McDonalds. I bet the pubs and restaurants do cracking business during the festival. We arrived at the Edinburgh International Conference Centre (EICC) just in time for the Fred MacAulay show. Fred MacAulay is best known as a radio presenter who occasionally does stand up from time to time. On the basis of the show I think he should stick to the radio. On the radio he is genuinely likeable and witty, but as a stand up comedian he was very average. His humour is best expressed when he has someone to play off, like a guest on his radio show. He was also quite crude and foul mouthed at times which I didn't like. Maybe he was trying to cast off his clean cut radio presenter mould and prove that he could mingle with other stand ups. I just felt that the bad language was forced and it did not make his material any funnier. Other comedians can get away with it, like Billy Connolly, but not Fred. So it was a mixed day at the Festival. I enjoyed Tim Vine, the beer, the beautiful babes, Alan's company and the atmosphere but I was disappointed in Fred MacAulay and the rain. 'Ach well!' as a philosophical Scotsman would say. Tim Vine 8/10 Fred MacAulay 5/10

Kevin Bridges at the Edinburgh Festival

2010-08-21T08:43:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again. The Edinburgh Festival has arrived with it vast spectrum of the weird and wonderful. Like last year my friends and I have focused soley on comedy again and to kick things off we went to see the rising star that is Kevin Bridges. Although he has blazed his way onto the comedy circuit in the last year I had never actually seen him in action. He had completely sold out his run at the festival and extra dates were added due to massive public demand, so to say that I expected great things from this young Glaswegian comedian would be accurate. As Tony, Alan and I queued outside the Assembly Music Hall on a fair Friday evening I was handed a flier advertising Kevin Bridges. There were quotes from various magazines and newspapers heralding him as 'the master of stand up at just 22' and 'the most exciting talent in Scottish stand-up'. My levels of expectation were now even higher. So, was he any good? Well, to say that he is 'the master of stand-up' is quite an exaggeration but that's not to say that I didn't enjoy his set. It was good, but just not as good as I had hoped. His material was observational with a strong Scottish perspective. I was more impressed with the maturity with which he delivered his material, like a seasoned pro. Even if his material was not that funny he engineered a laugh because he has a natural gift in telling a story or a joke. I think we are still to see the best of Kevin Bridges, as he gains more experience and refines his material. He certainly has a lot of potential. I just hope he can tone down the strong and crude language. It rarely enhances the material or makes it funnier. 7/10

Inception

2010-08-01T07:33:00.000-07:00

I recently saw the much anticipated Inception and I was not disappointed. It boasts a very strong cast with Leonardo DiCaprio leading the way as Dominic Cobb, a man who breaks into the dreams of others to steal information. This process is called 'extraction'. He is also a man on the run, unable to get back to his family in America after the death of his wife (Marion Cotillard). He is offered the chance to start afresh when a powerful businessman, played by Ken Wanatabe, wants him to break into the subconcious of a rival corporate businessman, played by Cillian Murphy, and plant the idea to dissolve his empire which threatens to gain a monopoly in the energy business. This process of planting an idea in a mind is called 'inception'. It is a very interesting and novel idea, thought up, or possibly dreamt up, by the talented Christopher Nolan who also writes and directs the film. He originally came up with the idea about ten years ago but wanted to have more experience in directing big scale films, so with films like The Dark Knight and The Prestige under his belt he went back and worked on the script for six months before selling it to Warner Brothers. I'm not surprised it took Nolan six months to work on the script, as the film is very complex and multi-layered. It's the kind of film that demands several viewings to fully understand what's going on. Or maybe I'm just a bit thick. It is certainly refreshing to watch a film that is this original and not a dumbed down special effects popcorn movie that is part of a franchise or a remake (cough cough Predators cough cough The A Team). Visually the film is very impressive. The dream world is very cool and the action scenes are exciting and fast paced. The plot is inventive and compelling, with some twists that you would expect from Nolan. After watching the film I had a really interesting conversation with my dad about dreams, the human mind and the subconscious. It's a fascinating and mysterious area of our human experience. Do dreams mean anything? Are we using all of our brain? Where does human consciousness and intelligence come from? Is it just a product of neutrons and chemicals in the brain or is there a spiritual element to our intelligence? What is the difference between the brain and the mind? Sometimes my dreams can be very violent. Often I am a soldier in battle. Sometimes, but not often, I am singing and playing the guitar. I am aware in my dream that the music is really good and it's my own creation but when I wake up I can't remember it. I wonder why I can't create great music when I am awake. It seems that in my dreams my subconscious is given a free reign to use all the creative power of my brain. As part of the human condition we are bound by our limitations. It's not something we can do much about, unless there is significant medical development that can help harness the power of the mind. I am sure there are techniques and substances that can help develop our brain function and hopefully medicines can be developed to combat conditions like dementia and Alzheimers. This is indeed important and often I get frustrated myself when my own brain is not functioning well so I don't want to undervalue the importance of the human brain. At times I wish I was smarter. But I can imagine that for many scientists and pscyhologists who are atheists this ability to get as much use of the brain in our one life here on earth can become an unhealthy focus. Brain function and IQ are of course very important but sometimes they can overshadow other areas of what it is to be human like emotional intelligence, kindness and integrity. The actress Natalie Portman once said 'I'd rather be smart than a movie star.' I don't disagree with her but I would rather be kind and loving than smart. If more people focused on developing their emotional intelligence and fostering qualities like kindness and patience and acceptance then the world would be a much better place. There are too many smart people with no heart. Without wanting to sound corny, at the end of the day love is the answer to the problems and frustrations of our limited human experience. My dad made an interesting point about dreams. He said that maybe the wonderful dreams we have are a foretaste of heaven. In heaven we will be set free from the shackles of our human limitations and we can truly express ourselves. Apparently 'eternal life' does not mean the soul living for ever and ever. The Greek translation of 'eternal life' is 'the fullness of life'. Time will not exist in heaven, in the way we experience and understand it now. I have no idea what it's going to be like but it will be 'the fullness of life', which sounds pretty cool.
Inception 8/10

Amish teenagers

2010-07-25T14:11:00.000-07:00

I've just finished watching a very interesting documentary about a group of Amish teenagers who leave their community in America and travel to London to experience an alternative culture. Some might think that the Amish are a cult. They are certainly going against the grain in their lifestyle and beliefs but the young Amish people came across as being very genuine, wholesome and content. There was no sense that they are brain washed or weird. In fact they were very refreshing. There is much to admire in the way they life their lives. They live simply and peacefully, work hard and live out the Word of God in their daily lives, like 'love thy neighbour'. I don't wish to romanticize their life but they seem happy. Much in contrast with our secular society. The group of Amish teenagers meet and spend time with some London teenagers, experiencing modern things like street dancing and beauty parlours. Their response is interesting. They are a bit bemused and taken aback at times but they are open minded. I think the Amish guys could take to the different culture more easily than the girls. The Amish teenagers don't compromise their own beliefs and they speak their mind openly but respectfully, which I greatly admire because I know from experience it so hard to speak about your faith and religious beliefs to people of a secular mindset and lifestyle. It takes courage, integrity and an inner strength. It's something I wish I had. And to give the London teenagers credit they are very respective and accepting of the Amish and their ways. They both get along well, even though their lifestyles and beliefs differ, and there is a genuine affection between them. The Amish seem to find many things challenging and thought provoking, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe they can learn something from us or maybe it will just serve to make them appreciate even more their sheltered and safe community life. They might feel that they are being denied some things that are good and enjoyable, like art and music and learning about other cultures. I don't think I could live exactly like the Amish. I wouldn't be typing this blog if I did because they don't use elecricity. They don't use any modern technology. There is nothing wrong with this although most technology is good or bad depending on how it is used. Medicine is an obvious example and it would be interesting to hear their views on this. So while I couldn't totally embrace the Amish way of live, part of me is still very attracted to them. It would be nice to have a happy medium. If I won enough money in the national lottery I would buy a tropical island somewhere in the pacific, invite all my friends and build a Utopian society. We would live in harmony and peace. There would be no crime, no poverty, no boybands. Anyway, while I dream of this I must do the best I can, living in the city, to be true to my Christian values and not get too attacthed to material things. The Amish teenagers might be conservative and even square but they have a peace and sense of belonging which many of our urban teenagers don't have. It is both sad and uplifting at the same time. Well done to Channel 4 for producing such a well balanced and insightful documentary.

2010 World Cup analysis

2010-07-16T15:20:00.000-07:00

Best players: David Villa (Spain), Iniesta (Spain), Xavi (Spain), Puyol (Spain), Ramos (Spain), Schweinstiger (Germany), Lahm (Germany), Ozil (Germany), Muller (Germany), Sneijder (Holland), Robben (Holland), Forlan (Uruguay), Suarez (Uruguay)

Best goals:
best individual - David Villa (Spain v Honduras)
best counter attack - Klose (Germany v Argentina)
best strike - Van Bronckhurst (Holland v Uruguay)
or Tevez (Argentina v Mexico)

Worst challenge: De Jong's karate kick in final

Worst hacker: Van Bommel

Biggest flops: Rooney and Ronaldo

Best teams:
1) Spain
2) Germany
3) Brazil

Worst refereeing decision - Lampard's disallowed goal

Best refereeing decision - Lampard's disallowed goal

Into The Wild Review

2010-06-14T15:11:00.001-07:00

Warning - the following contains spoilers

Into The Wild is based on a true story and centres on the adventures of a young man called Chris McCandless. The film starts in 1990 and Chris has recently graduated from college but has become disillusioned with the materialistic, success driven society and in an act of rebellion and idealism he decides to break free and wander rural America in search of an alternative life experience. His ultimate aim is to reach Alaska and live alone in harmony with nature. Along the way he befriends some interesting characters but he is unable to develop these relationships and he keeps moving on, always with Alaska as his ultimate goal. The film might not be everybody's cup of tea but it's at least very thought provoking. I watched the trailer of Into The Wild on YouTube and it was interesting to read the comments of people who have seen the film. Some applauded Chris for his idealism and courage. One person wrote something along the lines of 'He lived more in those two years than most people do in their entire life'. But some criticised Chris for his naivety and selfishness. The film really provoked heated debate and polerized opinion. I think the idea of breaking free from consumerism and the conventions of society all strike a chord with us but it depends how we express this longing for freedom and happiness. Chris thought it would be found in a complete rejection of consumerism and living a solitary life. He seemed so focused on this that he lost sight of the importance of friendships, relationships and family. Throughout the film he has opportunities to develop relationships that are potentially very fruitful but he cannot settle down and take that step of faith. Sometimes I don't know whether Chris is running towards something or running away from something. There are references to a troubled family life which may be at the root of this. At the end of the film, dying of starvation in Alaska, he comes to realise that, in his own words, 'Happiness is only real when shared'. Overall I was not sure whether to admire Chris or feel pity for him. Maybe a bit of both. Like most things in life, it comes down to getting the right balance. He could have settled down with friends and still maintained his close bond with nature and spirit of adventure, but sadly his remarkable journey does not have this happy ending. At the end of the day I guess there is not subsitute for love. Emile Hirsch is excellent as Chris and manages to portray a strong will and free spirit with a sense of underlying insecurity. It is a character driven film and does not have much of a plot but the direction, cinematography, soundtrack, screenplay and cast are all very strong and make Into The Wild an engaging and powerful film. 8/10

Poetry 5

2010-06-08T14:06:00.000-07:00

My bed is ruffled,
Shaped like the waves of an outgoing tide.
My dreams are all out at sea,
Lurking somewhere in the depths of the night.
I fish them out in the dark
And they are strange colours and shapes,
Dripping, dripping everywhere.
Not what I want to eat.
So I throw them back in and forget them.
By daylight I shall hunt for deer and rabbits.
They are simple and tasty and solid in my hands.

Poetry 4

2010-06-02T12:37:00.000-07:00

I love to hear the sounds
Of this late night's bedside stillness
Of rain tapping on the windows;
A drizzly distant cry;
Rustling leaves in gentle mournful whisper,
Like the murmur of a sad waterfall.
The past surfaces like driftwood,
Fragile yet powerful,
Tossed about on the churning waves of my emotion.
A door outside slams shut
And suddenly they are gone,
Back into the depths.

Poetry 3

2010-05-23T16:13:00.000-07:00

The campfire is burning
In the hazel wood grove
Singing yellow sparks
Into the silent night.
And from the moon
Comes a sliver light
Casting a midnight magic
On the dark world below.

'Ode to a blossom' by Ashlee Welch

2010-05-16T13:24:00.000-07:00

Oh, blossom
You are so awesome.
So fair and sweet and mild.
The sunbeams shine
In the yard of thine
And make you strong and wild.

Poetry 2

2010-05-09T10:47:00.000-07:00

My favourite time is night
When darkness and silence
Come together like lovers embracing
Their love ebbs and flows
While the world sleeps,
Dreaming of its vain salvation
Only to awake to a nightmare.
The lovers awake to the call
Of a bird in sunlight.
They know a peaceful morning.

Poetry 1

2010-04-30T10:56:00.000-07:00

The Skies of Autumn

The skies of Autumn
Are on fire with dusk,
Fiery red like a poppy
Stretched out across the sky.
It scatters its seeds
Of colour and light
Onto infertile bricks
And infertile minds.

Rufus Wainwright in concert

2010-04-16T16:19:00.000-07:00

I have seen Rufus Wainwright in concert before and he was great, so I was really looking forward to seeing him live again. The concert was spilt into two parts. At the start a guy came on stage and told the audience that the first part of the show was something like a song cycle and asked us not applaude Rufus during the perfomance or until he had made his exit. A big screen was lowered down and the lights dimmed. Rufus appeared at a door dressed in a long black robe with feathers stitched to his shoulders and walked very very slowly towards the piano. He didn't say anything but just started to play. His songs were very unusual, dark, intense, sad and emotionally spent. It was certainly not easy listening. The screen behind him projected images of his eye opening and shutting in slow motion. It was all very arty and like something you would expect to find at the Edinburgh festival. I have no idea what it all meant, maybe something to do with the eye being the window to the soul. It was not all my cup of tea but kudos to Wainwright for trying something innovative and different. It would be easy just to rest on your laurels and go through the motions. For the second half Rufus came out on stage dressed normally and waving to the crowd, who received him very warmly. He was his usual self: charming, funny, quirky, camp. He played a selection of his more popular songs, including The Art Teacher, my own personal favourite. He totally messed up Poses but managed to make light of it and charm his way out of a sticky situation. He really is very very talented, being able to sing while playing complex accompaniment on the piano. He has a great voice, very powerful and distinct, and is also a very accomplished pianist. The best song of the night was the last one, written by his mother, the late singer Kate McGarrigle. It was called something like 'Walking Blues' or 'Walking along' but it had a lovely melody and was beautifully interpretated by Wainwright, who dedicated the song to her. I certainly enjoyed the second half more than the first but as a whole it was not as good or entertaining as the first concert. Hopefully next time he will skip the experimental stuff and play it straight, if you excuse the pun.

George & Arthur by Julian Barnes

2010-04-09T14:47:00.000-07:00

I initially judged this book by it's cover (being an artist I liked the design), but fortunately this flawed buying procedure turned out to be successful, as I immensely enjoyed this accomplished piece of work. It is extremely well written, with an excellent description and development of two very different but equally intriguing characters. Based on true events, it seems to have been very well researched and a bygone era is brought vividly and convincingly to life. There are many themes explored throughout the novel, guilt and innocence, the mystery of life and death, but these are skillfully woven into a plot that at times reads like a thriller. In this sense it's quite an usual book, but personally made it all the more interesting. All in all, this is an absorbing, very readable and often touching book by an obviously very talented writer. 9/10

Corinne Bailey-Rae at Oran Mor

2010-03-31T16:30:00.000-07:00

This was the first time I had been to a gig at Glasgow's Oran Mor and on the whole it was a positive experience. I arrived early so I went to the main bar for a drink. I stuck to my usual Magners but the bar had a good selection of whiskeys and spirits and more importantly there was a good selection of pretty girls to goggle at. I was checking them out while pretending to read my Christopher Brookmyre book. I think Oran Mor must have been a church before being converted (no pun intended) into a pub and venue for gigs and plays. It is attractive and cosy inside. The gig was in the basement entered at a side door. I again had plenty of time until the concert started and I went to get another drink. The Oran Mor clientele must be the most polite and civilised in the whole of Glasgow. At the bar it was a case of 'After you',,,'No, please go first',,,'No, my good sir, I insist you be served' and so on. It was a refreshing change to the usual mad elbows in the face attempt to get served at most of Glasgow pubs.
First on stage was a guy called Fiffy. I didn't quite catch his surname. Tall, wavy hair, grey suit and tie, Jesus sandals. I think he was English but maybe he was just educated at St. Andrews University, it is hard to tell at times. He had a good voice and was a decent guitarist and pianist but his songs were not quite as impressive. They were not bad, just a bit forgettable. It's says something when the best song he sang was a cover version. It was really good, using a loop machine so he could build up the song with layer upon layer, and he delivered it with aplomb. He was well received and he definitely does have talent but he needs to work on his song writing skills. He put me in mind of Jose Gonzalez, the Swedish acoustic singer/songwriter. His best three songs are all covers: Heartbeats by The Knifes, Teardrop by Massive Attack and Put Your Hand On Your Heart by Kylie Minogue. Jose Gonzalez is indeed a good songwriter but he has still to prove that he can be a very good or even great one.
Another visit to the bar and then Corinne Bailey-Rae came onstage. A slender, dark skinned, bushy haired beauty but curiously dressed in a blue one piece jump suit that looked like something from a low budget sci-fi movie. It didn't really matter, she still looked great. You could dress her in sack cloth and ashes and she would still dazzle. She started with the opening track to her new album, which I really liked, and continued to play most of her new material, punctuated by some songs from her first album. Her band was excellent. I'm no music critic but even I could tell that they were all very complished musicians. They just sounded good. Corinne sang with a lot of feeling and style, and she has a charming onstage personality. She is also a very decent guitarist. Nothing flashy, but some of the chords looked quite tricky. There is a strong jazz influence that came through in her set, maybe more so live than on her record. I don't know why, it was just something that made an impression on me. She has carved out a very successful niche in the 'easy listening soul/pop with jazz influence' market. The songs from her new album are much in the same vein as the songs from her first album. This is not a criticism, but I just hope that she does not get stuck in a comfort zone. I would like to see her experiment a bit, and not be afraid to find a different sound. She has certainly got the talent to be successful in whatever direction she goes.

Turning 30

2010-03-29T16:06:00.000-07:00

I turned 30 on Saturday. I actually feel okay about it, probably because I'm in better health now. A couple of years ago, when I was very ill, I felt as though my life was passing me by, but now I am more accepting and philosophical about where I am in life. My 20's were tough, real tough, but through all the pain and suffering and uncertainty I think I learned a lot and matured greatly as a person. I am far from perfect and I've a long way to go but I am feeling more hopeful and optimistic about my 30's and life in general. Thank you to all my friends and family for their love, prayers and just being there for me. What are my goals for the next ten years? Just to live and to live well.

Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood. - Helen Keller

Celebrity Crush List 2010

2010-03-21T17:27:00.000-07:00

Top ten celeb crushes:

1) Rachel McAdams
2) Lisa Hannigan
3) Natalie Portman
4) Duffy
5) Lois from Family Guy
6) Audrey Tautou (Amelie)
7) Jada Pinkett-Smith
8) Kate Winslet
9) Corinne Bailey-Rae
10) Rachel Weisz

Sadly most of these beautiful women are either fictional, already married or have a restraining order out on me. So I’m willing to settle for anything that comes my way.

Heaven

2010-03-13T16:53:00.000-08:00

In the book The Lovely Bones the main character is stranded in a sort of limbo between earth and heaven called the inbetween, a place where your world is tailor made to match you personality and experiences. It's an interesting concept and got me thinking about the afterlife and heaven. What will heaven be like? The Christian vision of heaven in the Bible is of a place where "there shall be no more death, neither sorrow or crying, neither shall there be any more pain." (Rev 21:3) Obviously that means there will be no episodes of Friends. Also we will have new bodies, which will be nice. "God has prepared us for the purpose of being clothed with our heavenly body." (2Cor 5:4-5) I like to think that there will be a range of body types to choose from and on entering heaven we will be given a catalogue and asked to select one of the following. Personally I will choose Brad Pitt from Fight Club. I remember a priest giving a short homily about heaven to children with learning difficulties. He said that it would be a place where you could do all the things you enjoy on earth. I quite liked this idea. I don't think time will exist in heaven, there will just be the present moment, but I have thought about my perfect day in heaven. It will be something like this:

8AM wake up without a hangover
enjoy the sunrise
have breakfast with Tommy Cooper (special omelette and orange juice)
the waitress is Rachel Weisz
10.30AM have a round of golf with St.Peter at Augusta
the sun is shinning and the caddie is Rachel McAdams
1PM have lunch with Elvis (we both eat hamburgers)
2PM play guitar with Frank Zappa
4PM play soccer with a select team that includes Pele, Maradona and Zidane
the referee is Natalie Portman
6PM have dinner with Johnny Cash, Einstein, Che Guevara and Groucho Marx
Johnny gives us a few tunes, Groucho gives us a few jokes
the waitress is Marilyn Monroe
8PM paint with Picasso
10PM have a few beers with Jesus and enjoy the sunset

I think that sounds pretty good. Now I just have to get to heaven, that's the hard part.

John Scofield and the SNJO

2010-03-07T15:25:00.000-08:00

I had the honour of seeing one of my guitar heros in concert last night. John Scofield is one of the most talented and innovative jazz guitarists alive. The fact that jazz legend and genius Miles Davis hired John in the early 1980's speaks volumes. This concert was a collaboration between Scofield, the Scottish National Jazz Orchestra (SNJO) and a number of composers who arranged the music for the orchestra. The first set was 'Loud Jazz'; four pieces penned by Scofield and one by Miles. The second set was 'Electric Miles'; four Miles tunes and one by Scofield. My favorite was Wabash The Third (partly because I can play a few bars on guitar myself, although very slowly and probably incorrectly) and Davis's wonderfully catchy Jean Pierre. It almost has the feel of a children's song. Da da, da da Da. That does not really do it justice. It is so simple but so effective, much like Beethoven's 5th in its simple direct melody. Scottish Saxophonist Tommy Smith conducted the orchestra and also threw in a few blistering solos for good measure. He has a rare set of lungs and he was very impressive but I got the impression that Scofield was the real crowd puller. He was certainly the reason I was there. I am not a music critic and I don't understand the technicalities of music theory or chord formation or improvisation but I just loved watching him play that guitar. It just seemed to work and sound right. I don't really have the words or musical knowledge to better articulate why I love his guitar playing so much, I just do. The SNJO were also very very impressive and I would definitely see them live again. The drummer was excellent and played a couple of solos. He played the drums in a jerky energetic way like he was being electrocuted. The bass player was a odd wee guy who looked like Spud from Trainspotting. It was like someone had just picked him up off the mean streets of Easterhouse or Drumchapel, stuck him in a suit and shoved him on stage. He was very good, to be fair. The lead trumpet dude also gave a dynamic solo, squealing out notes with a bright red face and eyes screwed up like he was badly constipated. But the night really belonged to John Scofield. Great guitarist, he also seemed like a lovely guy. There was a microphone passed between Tommy Smith and John durng the two sets and they had a bit of banter. It was my first jazz concert in many years, and if the brain is a sponge and can only absorb so much information then the same can be said of jazz. It is an intense genre and I can only take so much, but the concert has definitely rekindled my interest in jazz and I will be back for more, that is for certain.

culture of greed

2010-02-28T08:50:00.000-08:00

In the light of Robbie Keane's loan deal to Celtic, where he earns an incredible £65,000 a week, the morality of footballers wages has been in my mind quite a lot. Keane is an excellent player but nobody is worth that amount of money. For that kind of money Keane is morally obliged to score at least five goals a game, do extensive charity work and find a cure for cancer. I don't want to focus solely on Keane, as there are some players on twice that wage in the English Premiership. If I was in a similar position, a top player with the leverage to demand £65,000, I would find myself in a moral dilemma. I could take the wages and look after my family and give most to charity. Or I could make a stand and settle for a more modest wage (say 3 or 4 grand a week, which is still a huge salary) and let the media know about it and why I am doing it. In an ideal world FIFA would impose a maximum wage structure but that's never going to happen. I just hope that someday a brave footballer is going to speak out about this culture of greed and immoral wages. But there is no point in just speaking out about it. You would have to put your money where your mouth is.

John Hughes tribute

2010-02-20T07:12:00.000-08:00

John Hughes: director, writer, producer, was a extremely talented artist and I was saddened to hear of his untimely death in August 2009. This is my own tribute to him. It's not since his death that I have come to fully appreciate just how gifted this man was. This creative output during the 1980's and early 1990's is very impressive, including classics such as Planes, Trains and Automobiles and Home Alone, the later being the most commerically successful film which he wrote and produced. But his 1980's teen comedies should not be overlooked. The two which I have seen, The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller's Day Off, are both superb. He wrote the script for both films and he seems to be able to powerfully articulate the thoughts and feelings of teenagers: the angst, uncertainty, search for identity, strained relationships with parents and authority figures. Although set in the 1980's the themes are universal and can speak to young people from any generation. The Breakfast Club delves more deeply into these issues, although it has comic moments. Ferris Bueller in general is more lightheatred and fun but has a few poignant and powerful scenes which hit home. The Breakfast Club made me think about my own high school years. In case you don't know The Breakfast Club is about five teenagers who have to spend Saturday morning and some of the afternoon (maybe it should have been called The Brunch Club) together in detention at their high school. The five teenagers fall into different high school social niches: the jock/athelete, the princess, the basketcase, the criminal and the brain. It made me think about what group I belonged to in high school. On reflection I think I was a bit of all five: I was very good at sports but definitely not a jock, people seemed to like me but I was not part of the popular crowd nor did I have many real friends, I was different from most others in my tastes and behaviour but not quite an oddball, I got into some fights and clashes with authority but I was not a menace to society or bad person (although Jackie would disagree), and I did study hard and achieve some good academic results but I was not labelled a brainbox. I guess it is a homage to John Hughes that his films make you think about these things. His last film as a director was Curly Sue, which I've never seen, and apart from writing scripts for one or two films he moved to Illinois and lived as a farmer until his death. John Hughes died of a heart attack in Mahattan, New York while visiting family. Even though he kept a low profile and rarely gave interviews he will be sorely missed. One of my new years resolutions was to marry Rachel McAdams. The other was to watch more John Hughes films and it is something I look forward to greatly. John Hughes 1950 - 2009. Rest in peace.

Glasga wit

2010-02-08T09:01:00.000-08:00

I got this story from a friend of a friend works who works in a jobcentre. It's just approaching 9AM and there is a queue of guys outside the jobcentre. The security guard watches them from the door. One dude decides to roll up a joint but in the process spills a handful of canabis onto the ground. The dude and his pal then spent the next five minutes on their hands and knees, scooping up canabis with small plastic forks. The security guard watches on in amusement. When the doors to the jobcentre open all the guys come in and line up, waiting for their name to be called. The security guard wanders over the dude and asks him if he mananged to get back all his 'stuff'. 'Nae man,' answers the dude, 'but I will if I have tae smoke the ground!'

joke

2010-01-30T16:11:00.000-08:00

Why is coffee better than a woman?

Because a coffee looks good in the morning!

Way To Blue - Songs of Nick Drake

2010-01-24T14:39:00.000-08:00

In January in Glasgow there is a folk festival called Celtic Connections and last week I went to a concert celebrating the music of Nick Drake - it was really good. There was a house band, including Danny Thompson who originally played bass on a lot of Nick's tracks, a string section and a selection of guest vocalists. Sadly I was not invited to sing. Belle and Sebastian's lead singer was there (Stuart Murdoch), Lisa Hannigan (she collaborated with Damian Rice but has now gone solo), Teddy Thompson (son of legendary folk artist Richard Thompson who I saw last year in concert), a folk singer called Vashti Bunyan (she has a lovely voice but on the night she seemed quite nervous and struggled a bit), South African poet Warren Crystal (great voice! she should give up poetry and focus on singing) and a few others who I had never heard of before. They did quite modern and individual interpretations of Nick's songs, my favourites being Parasite, At The Chime Of The City Clock, Poor Boy, Pink Moon, Black Eyed Dog and Voices. For the encore all the vocalists came onto the stage and did a beautiful version of Voices. It was quite moving, seeing them all together, bringing Nick's wonderful music alive. At the interval Joe Boyd, who produced Nick's three studio albums, introduced the musicians and singers and also just paid tribute to Nick and his music. Robert Kirby, who had arranged the strings for Five Leaves Left and Byrter Layter, died in October so he was given a round of applause. My favorite vocalist was Lisa Hannigan. Move over Rachel McAdams! Lisa is now my current crush! She's got a great voice but is also very beautiful, sexy and down to earth. Check her out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GPwk4S5nU9s (gorgeous song by a gorgeous girl)

The Road reviewed

2010-01-13T14:22:00.000-08:00

The Road is another successful film adaptation of a Cormac McCarthy book (the other being No Country For Old Men). It is set in a post apocalyptic and desolate America, and centres on the journey of a father and son walking the road south to the coast where they hope to find a warmer climate and better life. Along the way they struggle to survive and keep that hope alive. The film, like life, is a hard slog: intense, dark and bleak but unable to overwhelm the love between father and son, called simply Man and Boy. This relationship is portrayed in a tender and very moving way, thanks largely to a brilliant joint performance by Viggo Mortensen as Man and Kodi Smit-McPhee as Boy. I will be surprised if they are not both nominated for an Oscar. Man is a loving and devoted father, outside that relationship he is pragmatic and cautious which is understandable in the circumstances. It's a fine line to tread, between survival and protection of a loved one and doing all that necessary to achieve that. Robert Duvall, Guy Pearce and Charlize Theron provide an impressive supporting cast but Mortensen and Smit-McPhee are the powerful anchor of the film. They make the bleak and hard slog worthwhile. The film is about the truimph of the human spirit in terrible conditions, the courage to perserve humanity in oneself but the most telling theme is really about the most important thing in this life, namely the love that exists in a relationship. The fact that the landscape is so bleak and harsh, and the struggles of Man and Boy so painful and hard, only highlights the importance of this gift more powerfully. 8/10.

2009 Lists

2010-01-03T16:06:00.000-08:00

I stole this idea from a friend. I've nothing much else to write about.

Best films of 2009:

1) Sherlock Homes
2) Inglorious Basterds
3) District 9

Best books (that I've read this year):

1) A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini
2) Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak
3) Birds Without Wings by Louis De Bernieres
4) The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
5) Persuasion by Jane Austen

Best gigs of 2009:

1) Ray LaMontagne
2) Richard Thompson
3) Tom Paxton
4) Bruce Springsteen
5) Half Man Half Biscuit

Best ciders of 2009:

1) Gaymears
2) Bulmers
3) Magners

Biggest crush on a girl of 2009:

1) Rachel McAdams
2) Rachel McAdams
3) Rachel McAdams

New Years Resolutions:

1) Marry Rachel McAdams
2) (failing that) Date Rachel McAdams
3) (failing that) Befriend Rachel McAdams
4) (failing that) Stalk Rachel McAdams
5) (failing that) Ignore the restraining order from Rachel McAdams

Predator 2 review

2009-12-09T12:19:00.000-08:00

This could have been a worthy follow up to the now action classic Predator, but fails on many fronts. The acting, apart from Danny Glover who does a reasonable job of filling Arnie's shoes, is pretty awful at times and over the top. The dialogue is equally unconvincing. The film lacks the atmosphere and suspense of the original, despite the effective soundtrack of the talented Alan Silvestri. The second half of the film is certainly more exciting and watchable, but ultimately you are left feeling short changed. Had John McTiernan directed it again, and with better script writers and actors, this could have been a much better film. Disappointing sequel. 5/10

Jimmy Poland

2009-11-23T11:14:00.000-08:00

The first Sunday of every month my parents have a rosary group at our house. For those who don’t know the rosary is a Roman Catholic prayer with the use of prayer beads. It’s a small group, just my family and three others who used to go to our church before it was demolished: Mary Smith, Cathy and her father Jimmy Poland. After the prayer meeting we usually have a cup of tea and a chat, and sometimes I stay for this, even though I don’t say much. Conversation usually flows freely but sometimes it can be a bit difficult. Mary is a nice old lady but tends to talk over people and this can be annoying, especially to poor Jimmy. I don’t think she is aware of this, so desperate is she to have some social interaction. Jimmy is 91 years old and his hearing is not very good, so that does not help. And there is also the generation gap to contend with. A few months ago, however, the conversation turned out to be very interesting. I’m not sure exactly how but we began talking about the Second World War. We knew that Jimmy had been a soldier during the war so we asked him a few questions and he seemed happy to talk about it. He was there at Dunkirk, which is a port in northern France, and in 1940 British troops were cut off and encircled by the advancing German army. He remembers the ships coming from the English coast to save the stranded troops and recalls the feeling and sound of bullets flying around him, of men falling right, left and centre and dead bodies washing up on the shore. His regiment was the Argyle and Southern Highlanders and a small group of the survivors were pinned down behind a sand dune, unable to advance or retreat due to the intense gunfire. Eventually he manages to get off the beach but so many of his regiment had been killed or wounded in action that the remaining few joined the Black Watch. After D-Day in 1944 he was part of the second wave of troops that tackled pockets of German resistance. Probably the most poignant part of his story was when his regiment liberated the concentration camp of Belsen. It must have been a surreal, horrific sight to behold 60,000 poor emaciated Jews on the brink of death. The reaction of the soldiers was to give them something to eat, chocolate mostly, but for some medical reason their bodies could not handle this sudden digestion of solid food and they would simply fall over and die. Fortunately a medic came on the scene and ordered the soldiers to stop giving the survivors any food. They were hooked up to intravenous drips which their bodies were able to accept. Jimmy was very matter of fact about everything but it was fascinating to hear about it from someone who was actually there and was part of these historic events.

Super Mario

2009-11-04T14:52:00.000-08:00

I played football on Saturday with some of my cousins and uncles. Just before kick off my cousin Brendan pulled me aside to tell me a funny story. His parish priest had organized a fancy dress party for Halloween. To get into the spirit of things he decided to dress up as superman, complete with red underpants on the outside. After the party he was relaxing in the parish house when he heard the doorbell. Looking through the spyglass he saw Archbishop Mario Conti on the doorstep. What to do? I'm assuming that he was not able to slink away unnoticed and avoid the embarassing situation. I would like to have seen the look on Conti's face when the door was opened by Fr. Superman. It could have been worse, he could have dressed up as a woman. How would you explain that to your Archbishop? The moral of the story? God has a sense of humour, and hopefully so do Archbishops.

how to impress a barmaid

2009-10-24T13:06:00.000-07:00

I just want to say that the barmaids at Failte in Glasgow are the most pretty and comely barmaids in the whole of Scotland. I am now thinking of reasons to go there. I don't want to be constantly drinking in there and give them the impression that I am just an alcoholic bum in desperate need of a shave. Maybe I could go there again with a friend and then 'forget' my wallet or hat and have to go back and engage them in conversation but then they might think that I am an absentminded fool or a harmless eccentric, although of course there is some truth in that. I need to make the right impression. Maybe I should sit there pretending to read The Financial Times (but really with a copy of The beano inside) and stroke my beard in deep philosophical thought, nodding to myself now and again. Women are natural hero worshipers so maybe I could hire a stooge to rob the bar and then leap into action and save the day. Anyone fancy being a stooge to help an old pal impress a barmaid?

wrong end of the stick

2009-10-16T15:38:00.000-07:00

Before playing 5-a-side football on Friday I overheard a bit of conversation. We were a player short and Anton was explaining to Pete why his friend decided to cancel. 'We were half way through our subway crawl and he just said "I can't play tonight."' I raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. I have heard of a pub crawl but this was new to me. I knew there was a chain of shops called Subway that sold baguettes and filled rolls,etc and my vivid imagination cooked up the idea (if you pardon the pun) that a subway crawl was people going from one Subway establishment to another, eating a baguette at each one. Apparently I am wrong. Glasgow has a subway system of 15 stops. A subway crawl is when you get off at each stop and drink a pint. I wonder how many have made it to 15 pints. I don't think I'll be trying either version of a subway crawl.

Why me, Lord?

2009-10-10T13:58:00.000-07:00

I was quietly minding my own business in the basement of Border's bookstore drawing in my sketch book. A tap on the shoulder. 'That's very good.' An eldery woman, well dressed with short silvery hair, stood by my side. She started to talk to me. And talk. And talk. It was a one way conversation that flowed incessantly. I smiled politely and nodded, faining interest. This only encouraged her and after about 15 minutes I was beginning to wilt like a flower in intense heat. She talked about art and then somehow this developed onto a different subject and so on. She kept saying 'I better leave you in peace and go' but she just started off again. I can't remember half of what she said, I tuned her out after about 20 minutes, my eyes gazing over, but I still automatically nodded and smiled. Fatal mistake. And then she really pissed me off. She asked me if I stayed at home and I said 'yes' and she started to go on about how this was not a good idea at my age and that mother should not be pampering me or words to that effect. This is ignorance at it's worse, knowing nothing about my background, character or situation. She also said that I was interesting, when surprised me because I had not said a thing apart from the occassional 'mmm' and 'I see'. I was 'interesting' to her because I was willing to listen to her. I get that a lot. I think some people just like me because I am willing to listen to their crap. Eventually she let go of me and wandered off. I breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a draining experience and I was glad to get her off my back. Standing up to stretch my limbs I noticed some nice mugs for sale a few feet away. I was about to step across to look at them when a dithering old woman stood right in front of me, blocking my way. She just stood there, with a stupid look on her face, like she didn't know what to do. This was the last thing I needed. Although I'm a wrestling fan I am generally not a violent person but right now I really wanted to clothes-line this old grannie, smack her with a steel chair and finish her off with a suplex slam. Just as I was looking for a baseball bat she finally decided to shuffled forward and I decided to spare her life. So these two experiences have not endeared me to the weaker sex. What can we men do about ignorant, blabbermouths and dithering old women who get in your way? I don't have the answer but I hope for their sake somebody tells me soon before I strangle one of them.

A special night at the flicks

2009-09-28T16:42:00.000-07:00

The choice on Monday night was between watching a digitally remastered version of The Godfather at Cineworld in Glasgow (Europe's tallest cinema) and playing chess with half a dozen old men. I love chess but the film buff in me knew that this was a great chance to watch a classic on the big screen. I am so glad that I went to see the film. It was a magical cinematic experience from the first scene to the last. Half way through the film I was dying for the toliet but I was trying to hold it in because I was so engrossed in the film and did'nt want to miss anything. Everything is perfect: the acting, cinematography, music, sound, costume and setting, script and direction. There are no crap bits. Simple as that. It is a film that demands to be watched and rewatched, again and again. It's the type of film that you never get tired of wacthing, it does not lose its freshness. One of the great things about it was the pace of the film. It just takes its time without being ponderous, allowing the plot to unfold, for tension to build in a scene, for characters to develop and reveal themselves. Francis Ford Coppola does a magnificent job in that respect. I went to see it with my dad and afterwards we talked about the film, comparing our favorite scenes. My favorite scene is probably when Michael assasinates the chief of police and some mobster in an Italian restaurant. Pacino's acting is amazing: you can see it all in his eyes, as he sits there with the concealed gun, deciding on whether to go through with the assassination. Although he does it to protect his father it is probably the turning point in the film for Michael, as he turns down the road to perdition, although the final nail in the coffin is when his wife is killed in Sicily. Before that happens you feel as though there is some good left in him. His Sicilian wife is innocent and pure and may be a good influence on him but her assassination kills off any chance of his salvation. From then on becomes a ruthless, cold hearted mobster. Pacino does an amazing job of showing this transformation, and he deserved an oscar for his performance over the first two films. Equally brilliant is Marlon Brando as The Godfather. He portrays him in such a way that the viewer is almost sympathetic to him but you are always aware of his power and the underworld of crime and deception he has chosen for himself. The cinema was packed and a lot of the audience were young so there is certainly a market out there for the rescreening of classic films, old and new, and hopefully they will show The Godfather Part 2. I will be at the head of the queue! As for Part 1 it is simply a masterpiece and a joy to watch. 10/10.

Adventureland review

2009-09-22T13:37:00.000-07:00

Adventureland is a bittersweet tale of growing up and the lessons learned through life experience in the most unexpected place, a tacky theme park. The main character, James, is a college graduate who has plans to travel Europe during summer and then study at one of the Ivy League schools in NY. His hopes are dashed when his parents cannot fund him and he takes a summer job at Adventureland, a local amusement park, to cover his college fees. The job is spectacularly uninspiring and littered with bizzare characters but he falls for a smart and sexy young co-worker, played by Twilight's Kirsten Stewart, and the ups and downs of life and love follow. The film is quirky and slightly offbeat, which I quite liked, but there is a sense of realism at the same time. The cast are strong and the script is smart and thoughtful, helping the film rise above your average teen film. It's not a comedy but there quite a few funny moments, often delivered by the more bizzare or geeky characters. For some reason the film is set in 1987, but it is still relevant to this generation of young people. Most of the characters are white middle class Amercians and they are a bit lost, confused and rootless. They find their identity and comfort very much through the pop music culture, drugs, alcohol, and sex. I can identify with this to some extent. We have all done daft things when we were that age but personally I had my family, friends and faith to fall back on and keep me grounded. The characters in this film don't have that. This is not a judgement on them, many of them have good intentions and potential, but there is the sense that they have drifted into a sort of spiritual vacuum. Late teens is hard enough at the best of times but without a strong family background it becomes all the harder. Adventureland reminded me a bit of The Rules of Atrraction, but it is not as nihilistic or bleak. The film is set in 1987 and I guess the characters would be in their early forties by now. I'm not looking for a sequel but it would be interesting to see where they have ended up. 7/10

Twister or dental torture?

2009-09-11T17:09:00.000-07:00

My friend Joanna is going to Italy on Monday for a year, so there was a informal party at her house. There was a nice crowd and things were going well until some sadistic person brought out the Twister game. Man, it was agony. I was doubled over with cramp after about five minutes. I would rather have dental torture performed on me. Who thought up this terrible game,,,the Spanish Inquistion? I can just imagine it. 'Now, Michael Gilfedder, recant or it will be left foot red square for you!' It's also a strangely intimate game. As the game progresses limbs are interwoven and I always end up with some guys bum in my face. If we were all naked it would look like something from a Kama Sutra manual. Twister or dental torture? I hope I never have to make that choice!

Edinburgh Festival - Part 2

2009-09-02T09:23:00.000-07:00

Part 2 of our Edinburgh Festival adventure did not start smoothly. Tony Murphy (I include his surname because I have three good friends called Tony), Alan and I waited in Ballieston for the Citylink bus but the first passed us by with no seats and the second stopped but the the driver told us that there was only two seats left. The first show, Paul Merton's Impro Chums, started at 4.30 pm and we were running out of time. We had two choices: we could drive through in Alan's car but that meant he could not drink or we could jog down to the local train station and get to Edinburgh via Glasgow Queen Street Station. We choose the later and after a bit of huffing and puffing we eventually arrived at Edinburgh Waverley Train Station, just a ten minute walk from the venue. We arrived at the Pleasance Courtyard with just minutes to spare and found a seat at the back of the raised seated platform. I like Paul Merton, his quick wit and dead pan delivery, but I was not quite sure what to expect as Alan told me that he would be performing improvised comedy with four other 'chums'. It turned out to be a very entertaining and funny hour. They would play games or act out sketches much in the vein of 'Whose line is it anyway?'. For example Paul would ask the auidience for the genre of a film or a physical setting and then the performers would improvise within this. All his 'chums' were very talented and they all interacted very well as a group. I was not surprised that the show was a sellout and I would definitely see Paul and his Impro Chums again. Afterwards we got a burger and a pint outside in the courtyard and as we stood chatting Paul Merton himself passed by disguised in a bunnet, scarf and long overcoat. Alan took the opportunity to shake his hand and praise him for such a good show, which Paul seemed to appreciate. In the distance was Arthur's Seat, a hill of about 700 feet rising over Edinburgh, and we could see human pinpricks moving about on top. We had a couple of hours to kill before the second show so we met up for a drink with some of Alan's friends who happened to be in Edinburgh at the same time. They were very pleasant. Tony and I talked to Chris and his wife Joanne, while Alan charmed the lovely Rachel. In fact we were having such a nice time that we lost track of time and almost missed the start of Alistair McGowan's show. The venue was the Assembly Hall, a lovely old building that reminded me of Glasgow University. Alistair McGowan, for those outside the UK, is a well known British actor, comedian and impersonator, but it is for his wonderful impersonations that he is best known and loved. Maybe some people expected the show to be one impersonation after another but his set contained quite a lot of standup observational comedy. I'm assuming of course that he wrote all his own material and if he did then he made a very good job of it. His impersonations were spot on but to fully appreciate them you needed to have watched a decent amount of British tv. I was surprised when, after the show, Alan told me that his show had only been rated three out of five stars in a review magazine or newspaper. He deserved more than that. It was dusk when we emerged from the Assembly Hall, the sky tinged with a beautiful red and orange glow to the west. The silhouette of Edinburgh Castle against this backdrop was very impressive. The dark blue water in the distance gave me a pleasant surprise because I always forget that Edinburgh is right next to the sea. We rejoined Chris, Joanne and Rachel and after a bit of trial and error we finally settled on a Chinese restaurant that did'nt look like it would result in food poisoning. In fact the food and service was excellent. I even tried to eat my chicken with ginger and spring onions and fried rice with chopsticks but I resorted to the safer option of a fork after spilling half my meal down my jumper. I then further disgraced myself by eating all the leftovers like I had not been fed in three weeks. I possess all of the seven deadly sins in abundance but gluttony must be at the top of the list. After the meal we found a nice little pub for another drink and chat before Chris, Joanne and Rachel had to catch the last bus back to the borders. Our own journey back to Glasgow was uneventful; Tony listening to Guns 'n Roses on his Ipod (that boy is stuck in the 80's!), Alan staring out of the window in silent thought, and myself reading the excellent 'Birds without wings' by Louis de Bernieres. My second taste of the Festival had been very successful. Two top class shows, good company, the novelty of being in Edinburgh, the energy and atmosphere of the crowds, lots of cider and a good meal. Same again next year.

Inglourious Basterds review

2009-08-30T14:24:00.000-07:00

"You have'nt seen war until you've seen it through the eyes of Quentin Tarantino" says the trailer. The film does not disappoint in this respect. Like the Coen Brothers he does have a highly unusual and individual style of directing that gives his films a unique visual and dramatic taste. With Inglourious Basterds don't expect a film like Platoon or Saving Private Ryan with a fixed moral about the horrors of war, its terrible destruction and tragedy and all the moral dilemmas it creates. I'm not saying that Tarantino is exploiting a terrible, and often fascinating, period of history to gain critical and commercial success - he is just expressing himself in his own unique way within the context of a war film. He does fully portray the brutality of war, often in graphic detail. Tarantino loves his violence and this film certainly earns its 18 certificate. The Inglourious Basterds are a group of Jews who are dropped into France with the simple goal of killing Nazi's and generally reigning destruction. The plot does not allow most of the group to really feature prominently in the film. This is okay, as just killing Nazi's (however appealing that sounds) for the whole film would get a bit boring after a while. Once the nature and intent of the Basterds has been established the plot goes in an interesting direction. Some of them become involved in a plot to kill Hitler and all of his high command. I don't think Tarantino is trying to rewrite history but he does offer us an alternative ending to the war, what could have happened if there really had been a group like The Basterds and if certain events had fallen into place. The cast are all excellent, except Mike Myers who is horribly miscast as an English general. Brad Pitt does well with his southern drawl and swagger, but it is Christopher Waltz (possible oscar contender?) who steals the show as the infamous 'Jew Hunter'. He sparkles as the Nazi officer who is in charge of rounding up all the hidden Jews in Nazi occupied France. On the surface he is charming and suave, almost playfully toying with his victims, and is completley at ease with what he is doing. Although this is not my favorite Tarantino film I certainly enjoyed it. I was going to rate this film 7/10 but on the strength of Christopher Waltz and Brad Pitt's performances, and the presence of the gorgeous Diane Kruger (marry me Diane!), I will add an extra point. Hopefully Inglourious Basterds marks a return to form for Tarantino. 8/10

Edinburgh Festival - Part 1

2009-08-23T09:35:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday I went through to the Edinburgh Festival with two friends to see comedians Mark Thomas and Phil Kay. I had been to The Fringe once before but this was my first proper taste of the Festival and I was looking forward to the experience. The bus journey was not long but it gave me enough time to catch up with Alan and hear about his Swine Flu scare. It was probably only a bad cold but I kept a safe distance from him just in case. Mark Thomas was performing at The Stand comedy club and when we arrived a queue had already formed. I had never heard of Mark Thomas before but Alan told me that his comedy is very political. I don't know much about politics so I was a bit worried that it would go above my head. While waiting in line everybody was handed a slip of paper which invited the audience to suggest policies that they would like to see passed in Parliament. He would read out some of the suggestions during the show and the favorites would be voted in and presented to a cross party group of MSP's at the end of his two week stint at the Festival. Interesting idea and it worked very well. It got the audience involved and allowed him to react with a sharp wit and some thought provoking insights. He was equally enlightening as he was funny. My own policy was something along the lines of people in Britain being encouraged to rent their property instead of being under pressure to buy. Most Europeans rent and they are able to live within their means and not be burdened with a huge mortgage. I should have written 'Scrap tuition fees and replace student loans with student grants, the bastards!' but anyway he didn't read my policy out. The winning policy was 'To have a national bring and buy or swap every Tuesday. When it starts working we start swapping with other countries until everyone is involved and we don't need money.' Very good. It could be way of defeating rampant capitalism. He showed us other policies from previous shows on a powerpoint screen, which included 'To introduce a national maximum wage' and 'Instead of being able to vote you should be able to 'unvote', so insteads of voting for a party you can opt to vote against your least favourite. Every 'unvote' against a party cancels out a vote for them'. I agree with my friend Tony that the best part was when Mark suggested that the National Anthem should be changed from 'God Save The Queen' to the imperial march tune from Star Wars. Like Mark pointed out, the national anthem should be about the people of Britain and not all about the Queen, and also the imperial march tune would scare the shit out of other competitors at the Olympics. Overall the show was very good. Plenty of laughs and food for thought. I would definitely see him again. We had plenty of time to kill before Phil Kay so we had a bite to eat and a few pints at a variety of nice traditional pubs, admiring some of the beautiful girls that Edinburgh seems to have in abundance. Phil Kay was a late start and he buzzed onto stage just before midnight. I had heard of him before but never seen him perform. Alan told me that he is very hit and miss so I was'nt sure what to expect. Unfortunately this was not one of Phil's better performances. He did not have much material to draw on except talking about the pregnancy of his wife and most of the show was ad-libed. There were some funny moments and it was obvious that he has plenty of raw talent but it just did not work on the night. He is a likeable character and there was something manic about his performance that was quite funny in itself (possible case of bi-polar?) but he should spend more time on having material to fall back on if his ad-libing is not going well. The show only lasted about 45 minutes and we all came away disappointed. We caught the 1.30 am bus back to Glasgow and I did not get home until about 3am. I was tired but it had been a good day and I look forward to seeing Paul Merton and Alistar McGowan next weekend.

The Wrecking Crew

2009-08-18T16:17:00.000-07:00

I played golf with my dad today. All was going well until the 4th hole. I had just made a par 3 and was feeling pretty good. Then we watched a threesome of middle aged ladies ahead of us slice and hack the course to pieces. It was painful to behold. This agonising slow play continued for the next five holes. Generally I'm not a violent person but I wanted to wrap my 4 iron around their heads or say 'Dad, hand me the rifle, I've got some culling to do.' P.G. Wodehouse, in one of his wonderful golf stories, called them 'the wrecking crew' because they wrecked other people's game. Woman golfers are the worst. I've nothing against the minority who can actually play well and I'm in awe of the professional woman golfers who are wonderful. But there are two types of woman golfers who are the scourge of society. There are those who hit a shot, then stop for five minutes and have a chat, play another feeble effort and then have a good laugh and chat about it. Behind them there are strong men on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Then there are those woman golfers who are just rubbish but are not aware that they are holding up players behind them. The threesome ahead of us belonged to the later. They lacked the awareness that they should let us play through and overtake them. At the end of the game my dad went ahead and spoke to them, bringing to their attention their slow play and the custom of letting those behind play through. Their response was a bare faced lie, claiming that they had been held up by players ahead of them. This was absolute rubbish. At one point my dad and I had sat on a bench for twenty minutes and watched them zigzag their way up a hill to the green. When I heard this I really wanted to personally headbutt each one of them. My solution to all this is separate golf courses for men and woman, or alternatively woman should be given golf lessons until they are good enough to avoid slow play. If I ever become Prime Minister then this will be my first law to pass!

Glencoe and Ninja Mike

2009-08-17T12:20:00.000-07:00

When I returned from football a week last Thursday I discovered that I had a missed call on my mobile. I didn’t recognise the number but, high on endorphins, I impetuously returned the call. My cousin Michael Pat answered the phone. ’Want to come camping and hiking this weekend?’ Still buzzing from exercise and without giving it much thought I said ’Sure, okay.’ Maybe if I had known what was ahead of me I would have changed my mind but I did‘nt have the benefit of hindsight. We met up in town early Friday evening, the idea being to camp Friday and Saturday night up at Glencoe and climb two Munros (an Munro in Scotland is a mountain over 3000 feet high) on the Saturday afternoon. No problem for Ninja Mike, the fitness freak, but for me it was always going to be a big challenge. Like myself Ninja Mike has a slight eccentric streak in him. One time he dressed up in full black ninja gear, complete with hood and mask, and, with a real razor sharp sword slung over his back, he attempted to slink ninja style through people’s gardens, hanging off trees and trying not to get noticed. As my cousin Ciaran pointed out, if caught by the police how would he explain himself, especially carrying a lethal weapon. ‘Eh, I'm a ninja officer.’ Quite a character. Anyway the drive north was very pleasant. The weather was promising and the forecast was good for the weekend. Mike hooked up his Satnav. Much to my amusement the voice giving directions was Christopher Walken, a feature he must have downloaded from the internet. Personally I would have chosen the calm gravitas of Morgan Freeman or the deep dulcet bass of Barry White. ‘In one hundred yards baby turn left, oh yeah.’ The drive to Glencoe took about two hours, which included a short stop at Taynuilt to buy booze and other essentials. Whenever Mike passed a camper van or caravan he would stick up two fingers in their direction. I’ve got no problem with them but Mike is a purist and he detests their modern convenience and luxury and does not regard the owners as true campers. They are also slow and cumbersome, and there is nothing worse than getting stuck behind one and unable to overtake. The breathtaking scenery however was ample consolation, especially with the evening light catching on the rugged hills. We passed through the long handsome valley of Glen Coe, mountains rising majestically on either side. With daylight beginning to fade we stopped at Clachiag Inn, parked the car, assembled our gear and tramped off into the woods to find a location suitable for camping. This did not take long, as we came across a clearing in the trees which had the remains of a fire. Mike had trained with the Royal Marines so he knew how to set up the bivy (short for bivouac) and get a fire started. A bivy is like a tarpulin which you tie between two trees, so essentially you are sleeping outdoors but the bivy provides overhead shelter and insulation. The advantage of a bivy over a tent is that it is easier to pack and quicker to set up. We spent the evening mostly tending to the fire, having a few beers and dipping in and out of conversation. A campfire has a powerful, almost hypnotic hold over you, it’s hard to take your eyes off it. It must connect to some deep primeval instinct in man. In Royal Marine slang it’s called watching ’bootneck tv’. We settled down for the night but unfortunately for some reason I could not sleep and I lay awake until about 6am. Maybe it was just the unfamiliar surroundings and situation. I ended up only getting 2 or 3 hours sleep, not ideal preparation for a day of arduous hill walking. We packed up the bivy and set out to find a place to eat. The weather was horrible: grey skies, mist descending on the mountains and as we entered the village of Glencoe rain began to come down heavily. We eventually found a café and fuelled up with a traditional Scottish breakfast of sausages, potato scone, egg and bacon. While I finished my coffee Mike plotted our course on a finely detailed map using his compass. He had experience orienteering with the Royal Marines so I was happy to leave all that in his hands. We parked the car at a lay-by about a quarter of a mile from the start of the ascent and packed some rations, water, mobile phone, map, compass, and waterproofs. I put on waterproof trousers - not very fashionable but they did the job. We set off amid the drizzle of rain just before midday. The ascent was gradual but after about twenty minutes the sweat was pouring off me and I was really struggling physically. Bidean nam Bian is 3373 ft and remember thinking that there was no way I was going to able to climb such a high mountain. I pushed on and the terrain became a bit more rocky but surprisingly my body began to adapt to the physical exertion, as though it had recovered from the initial shock and was getting into exercise mode. As we continued to climb our path consisted more and more of broken rock fragments called scree. This was a bit tricky at times but we stopped every now and again for a water break or to consult the map. After about an hour the terrain changed and we started to scramble. According to Wikipedia ’scrambling is a method of ascending rocky faces and ridges‘. You have to use your hands and it takes a certain amount of skill, upper body strength and balance. At first I quite enjoyed the challenge of scrambling but as the ridges and rocky faces became more vertical and demanding I began to get a bit concerned for my safety, especially as the rain continued to come down and make the rocks slippy. The ascent gradually became more steep and the scrambling more difficult and treacherous. It was as much a test of nerve and mental concentration as it was of stamina and physical strength. Mike led the way and I followed him cautiously. About a third of the way up the rain started to really batter down and we decided to put on our waterproof jackets. We continued to negotiate our way up and over ridges and rocky faces. I was getting tired and at times fell behind Mike. ’Enjoying yourself?’ asked Mike. ’Yes and no,’ I replied. I thought for a moment. ‘More no than yes,’ I added. After about three hours of this gruelling exertion we began to reach the final ascent to the summit. Mike had to check his map several times and gradually I began to have doubts that we were not taking the correct route to the top. Then the mist descended and our situation instantly became more perilous. We really had to get our bearings correct or we could get lost and end up in serious trouble. Finally we curved round a craggy and steep ridge that you would have to be bonkers to tackle head on and through the mist we saw the route to the summit. Although I was exhausted the sense that the summit was within reach spurred us on. After about twenty minutes of moderate scrambling we reached what we thought was the summit but through the mist and rain more mountain beckoned before us. Slightly dismayed we pushed on but my legs were beginning to buckle. We reached the top of one ascent but again we faced another one. Over the next hour this happened again and again. Now I began to realise why the gaelic translation of Bidean nam Bian is ’Pinnacle of the hides’ or ’Peak of the mountains’. It was simply never ending, one ascent after another, over rocky and difficult terrain. My legs were like jelly now and frequently I had to stop and rest. Mike spurred me on. It is a beast of mountain but some stubborn part of me was determined (or mad enough) to tame it. Finally, after fours of climbing in mist and rain, we reached the summit. We were wet, cold and exhausted but we had done it. We took a couple of photos, Mike posing theatrically for the camera, myself sitting on some rocks looking tired but relieved. I wanted to rest but we had to keep moving. We were exposed to the elements and I could feel the coldness starting to set in. As we started our descent Mike checked his map anxiously, unsure of his bearings. Finally we found something that resembled a path and zigzagged our way slowly down through scree and mud. While we were still unsure of our direction there was some divine intervention. For a few moments the mist cleared and we saw what lay before us. A valley surrounded by imposing peaks with a gorge running through the middle. Our descent was slow and tricky but I did not feel that it posed any serious danger as the ascent had done. About two hours later we finally reached the valley floor and found a path next to the gorge. This is where Mike’s navigation came into question. He should have followed along a ridge taking us to the correct descent point but instead our descent down Bidean nam Bian had taken us away from our starting point. To be honest I have a terrible sense of direction so I’m not in much of a position to criticise Mike. To reach that starting point we needed to climb over another munro and we both knew that I didn’t have the legs for that. Instead we turned left at the bottom of the valley, judging the distance to the road to be about two miles. This was a major misjudgement. It turned out to be about four or five miles away. After about a mile the landscape of the valley changed dramatically - it was a strange mixture of large boulders and rocks, trees and a stream, all intertwined like a exotic assault-course. It felt almost pre-historic and I half expected to climb over a boulder and come face to face with a dinosaur. As we worked our way through this strange and demanding environment my boots began to come apart. I had bought them a couple of years ago in a charity shop for about £10. I should have invested in a proper pair of walking boots that could withstand this kind of treatment and now I was paying the price for it. We eventually found a path that led us to the road but the last two miles were agony on my feet and Mike forged ahead as I was slowed down with the pain. As I tenderly trod the last mile the sun came out and the mountains were bathed in glorious sunshine but I was too tired and in too much pain to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings. After seven or eight hours of climbing and walking I reached the road. Mike was waiting for me at a lay-by. We were about four or five miles away from where we had parked the car so the plan was to thumb a lift from a passing car. After about twenty minutes a Spaniard approached us and kindly offered us the one remaining seat in his car. The plan was that they would drop Mike off at his car and he would come back to get me. That was the plan but there was another twist in the tale. As I waited, shivering in my cold clothes, cars and the occasional bus load of tourists pulled in to the lay-by to better appreciate the scenery and take photos of the hills. After about twenty minutes Mike still was no where to be seen. Ten more minutes passed and I began to wonder where the hell he was. Car trouble? Had the Spaniard got lost? Had Mike went for a quick pint? After about 40 minutes I was getting really cold and more worried. A mini van pulled up and a bunch of Russian tourists climbed out. They stretched their legs, smiled in my direction, wrapped up against the cold, took some photos. One guy noticed me pacing up and down to keep warm and kindly offered me a cup of tea. I gratefully accepted. As I was sipping this hot beverage the Spaniard’s car suddenly reappeared and Mike jumped out. ‘My keys are in your bag!’ I didn’t know whether to punch him in anger or hug him in relief. I handed the keys over and he jumped back into the Spaniard’s car and they sped away into the dying light of the evening. God bless that Spaniard. About ten minutes later Mike’s car appeared. We were both wet and cold and did not have a spare change of clothes so we decided just to head back to Glasgow. Just after 10pm Mike dropped me off in Glasgow and we shook hands as we went our separate ways. It had been quite an adventure. Not everything had gone to plan but hey, shit happens. I had survived. More than that I had achieved something that a year ago would have been physically impossible. When I got home I had a hot bath, changed into dry clothes and had a couple of bottles of cider. I think I deserved it.

food for thought

2009-08-14T15:44:00.000-07:00

Films have a classification, like PG or 15, according to its content such as swearing, violence, sex, drug use, etc. This makes perfect sense. But what about having a similiar rating for books? The book I'm reading just now, 'Miss Smilla's Feeling For Snow', was made into a film and was rated 15, but there is nothing stopping someone under 15 from buying the book. Is there anything stopping a 12 or 13 year old from going into Waterstones or Borders and buying something from the erotic section? Even a book like Trainspotting would be unsuitable for someone of that age although maybe some would argue that Trainspotting would be educational in teaching young adults about the dangers of drugs. Maybe this is something that should be looked into.

time of repose

2009-08-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

I came across something I had written a couple of years ago. It needed an edit but I thought it was worth posting.

Sunday. The pub was noisy and crowded. My football team was losing. I decided to bail out and find repose in the local Catholic church just around the corner. As I approached St. Bridget's I heard the unmistakable wail of the bagpipes and was confronted by a posse of well dressed people descending on the entrance to the church. A wedding had foiled my quiet time with God. I intended in going walkabout but the handsome sandstone building about one hundred yards along the road caught my eye. On further investigation it turned out to be St. John's Episcopalian Church. I had passed it several times, by car and foot. The church was closed but there was nothing stopping me from strolling around the well kept grounds. It was filled with gravestones. They were simple and modest in both scale and style, a far cry from the enormous gothic tombs of Glasgow's Necropolis. Flowers adorned a few of the gravestones - some fresh and colourful, others faded and withering, others as dead as those who lay beneath. I passed a gravestone which had several names on it. The last person had dies only two years ago. Someone close to her had recently laid a profusion of pretty flowers in her memory. As I continued my walk the white gravel crunched pleasantly under my feet. I reached the back of the church - somewhere beneath the grass and soil that edged down to the stone wall were the remains of paupers, people too poor to be given a decent burial. I was not sure if their grave extended out under the stone wall that surrounded the church grounds but I wanted to know. I wanted them to be given a decent burial. It might not make much of a difference to where their souls ended up but it just seemed like the right thing to do. A simple act of humanity and respect. But it would cost a lot of money and time and effort. Life goes one and money is spent on the living, although we erect monuments of great leaders, paint pictures of icons, wear T-shirts of Che Guvara. As I rounded the church's main front I let my eyes wander over the neat columns of gravestones, standing erect like a military parade on display. One gravestone stopped me in my tracks. The names and dates did not interest me. It was the four letters underneath. 'A kind and gentle man'. That would be a good way to be remembered. That would be a good way to be. In the end most of us will be forgotten. Achilles was a fool to think that his name would be made immortal by winning great battles. There are indeed names that will echo down through the ages but so what? In their eyes it gave their life meaning but it was a shallow victory. I left the church grounds with a sense of calm and perspective. I had got my quiet time with God after all.

Blood Simple review

2009-08-02T05:12:00.000-07:00

After receiving positive feedback about my film review of Public Enemies I thought I would give it another go. I am a fan of the Coen brothers. They have a unique way of telling a story and this is evident in their debut film Blood Simple (1984). It is written by both but Joel directs and Ethan produces - does anyone know what a producer actually does? Anyway, the story is set in Texas and it is about the intricate chain of events started by a bar tender having an affair with his boss's wife. Deceit and double crosses ensue. It's not a fast paced thriller, it's a slow burner and takes its time to build tension and atmosphere. The cinematography is quite unusual at times, typical of the Coen brothers, and gives the film a very dark atmosphere, its subject matter and style is almost Film Noir. Thanks to skillful direction the film grows in tension, the storyline has enough twists to keep the viewer engaged and by the end it becomes quite gripping. The cast are excellent, especially M. Emmet Walsh as the sinister, slimy private detective. It's not their best film, it's like a rawer, less polished version of No Country For Old Men, but I enjoyed it and it is well worth watching, especially if you are a fan of the Coen brothers. 7 out of 10.

Nunraw

2009-07-31T10:12:00.000-07:00

I'm just back from a week's holiday with my family at Nunraw Abbey Guest House. We've been going there for over 20 years and it's become a home from home. The monastery and the guest house are situated in the beautiful countryside of East Lothian. It's a lovely part of Scotland, very prosperous and boasts some top class golf courses, which ticks all the right boxes for me. I did'nt really do very much, just slept, read some books, played golf and lazed about. I finished 'The Kite Runner' which is a brilliant book. It is by an Afghan/American author called Khaled Hosseini and, althouhg my finger is not really on the pulse of modern fiction, he must be one of the best contemporary writers about, along with Louis de Bernieres. It is extremely well written. Very powerful, honest, compassionate, moving. The same can be said of his second novel 'A Thousand Splendid Suns'. I can't recommend them highly enough. I enjoyed the two games of golf with my dad, although my game was very erratic, especially my short game (pitching and putting). It ususally takes a month or two to find your feel for the short game. Golf is strange. One minute you are playing well and all is sweetness and light, and the next minute you have triple bogeyed a hole and you feel like snapping the putter over your knee and wondering why on earth you play the infernal game. I like the challenge and it's a father/son thing to do, which is important, but futhermore I like the feeling when the club connects sweetly with the ball and soars through the sky like a bird or when a long putt rolls in to save par. I play the game for those moments. When not playing golf or sleeping, we visited Haddington and Gifford, a town and a village about six milles from Nunraw. Both are charming. I did'nt make mass in the morning (I'm an insomniac) but my room was near the chapel and I enjoyed going in and sitting in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament. Sometimes I would pray, sometimes I would just be still and rest. Compline in the evening is the last prayer that the monks say. It's a lovely service but the community numbers have noticeably diminished in the past few years and it's quite sad. The voices chanting passages of the psalms are old and not as strong as they used to be. It would be a great shame if Nunraw closed but it is a possibility if there is not an influx of new vocations. I don't think that the monks are worried, they just get on with their life of work, prayer and community. They are holy men and the world is crying out for people like them.

What not to say

2009-07-29T16:37:00.000-07:00

I played 5-a-side football this evening with my cousin Raphe and some of his mates. Towards the end of the match one guy caught the full force of the football in the testicles. It had him on his knees for a couple of minutes and he was still holding his genitals tenderly as the whistle blew for final time. We all shook hands and as I approached him to shake his hand I almost said 'How are your balls mate?' but stopped myself just in time. I did'nt want him to take it the wrong way and follow me into the showers!

Craig Lodge

2009-07-22T04:19:00.000-07:00

At the weekend I went to a Catholic house of prayer up in the highlands of Scotland called Craig Lodge. Craig Lodge was originally a hunting and fishing lodge up until the early 1980's. Following a pilgrimage to Medjugorje, a small town in Bosnia where Our Lady is appearing, the owners had a powerful spiritual experience and felt called to turn the lodge into a house of prayer. A community started up, living a life of prayer and service, and subsequently Craig Lodge started to take in guests and host organised retreats. It is a very special place, an oasis of peace and grace in the barren desert of this secular society. It has played a very important role in my own life and I have experienced much healing and grace there. On Friday evening the bus journey took about two hours, and I spent the time reading a book called 'The Kite Runner' (great) and taking in the scenery, which at times was beautiful. At Dalmally, a village about a mile from Craig Lodge, I was picked up by one of the community members, a pleasant girl called Christina. I had not been to Craig Lodge for a couple of years and I knew the weekend was going to be a challenge. When you have depression everything is a challenge, even getting up in the morning, but this was a quite a big step for me. I was a bit apprehensive at first but the guests and everyone in the community made me feel welcome and I began to feel more at ease. This weekend was a 'Community Retreat', the idea being that the guests take part in the way of community life through adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, divine office, the rosary and mass. There were also talks, testimonies, a healing service and praise and worship lead by the community. The retreat went well and I enjoyed most of it but it is quite an intense spiritual and human experience and it's a very religious environment if you take part in everything. I was glad that I had attended and I'm sure I was blessed in some way. Part of me did'nt want the retreat to finish, but I was feeling emotionally drained and raw by Sunday and part of me was relieved to go. I got a lift back to Glasgow and as we entered back into the city everything seemed drab and flat in comparison to the beautiful setting, atmosphere and spirituality of Criag Lodge. It took me a couple of days to settle down and feel better. I hope to go back in Novemeber for an advent retreat. I highly recommend everyone to visit Craig Lodge. http://www.criaglodge.org/index.htm

Public Enemies review

2009-07-19T13:18:00.000-07:00

The film revolves around the infamous John Dillinger and his gang during an golden era of bank robbery in the early 1930's. The cast is excellent, particularly Christian Bale as the FBI agent in charge of the manhunt. Johnny Depp portrays Dillinger with smooth charisma and the eye candy for the male viewers is provided for by Oscar winning French actress Marion Cotillard. Ooh la la, is she pretty! Michael Mann's direction is stylish and slick, and he excels in the action scenes which are exciting and realistic. The log cabin shoot out is reminiscent of the climatic gunfight in Heat. The choice to use digital instead of film is interesting and possibly open to criticism. To capture that 1930's period feel most directors would use film whereas digital is more effective when dealing with modern urban settings such as modern day Los Angles in Collateral. The cinematography is very modern and at times the camera moves around like it was a documentary but it is effective in an unusual way. There are other interesting aspects to Public Enemies, such as the birth of the FBI, the portrayal of Babyface Nelson (who was a real nasty piece of work, bordering on pschyopathic) and the way America dealt with its criminals (Dillinger was sentenced to 10 years in prison for robbing a store of just $50). All in all, Public Enemies is solid entertainment. 7 out of 10.

A night out with The Boss and Raphe

2009-07-16T15:25:00.001-07:00

Last year I decided not to go and see Neil Young in concert and I've regretted it ever since. Sometimes you have to take the chance when it comes along, so when my cousin Raphael sent me a text to see if I wanted to go to the Bruce Springsteen concert I hestitated for a moment, mostly for financial reasons, but ultimately decided yes. It's not often that you will get to see a legend of rock in concert and I did'nt want to feel that I had missed a great opportunity. Raphe lives in Shawlands so we met about a mile from Hampden stadium shortly before the concert started. In our haste to get tickets we bought the first we came across and then discovered that we were sitting in different parts of the stadium. Our plan was to meet up inside but after 20 minutes of running up and down corridors and going through doors marked 'Restricted' or 'Staff Only' I realised that my search would be fruitless and decided to find a seat and hope the stewards would not ask any questions. I ended up on the upper tier of the east stand with a seat that offered a really good view of the stage and screens. The concert had started by this time and Bruce was already in full flow. The first thing that I was struck by was the energy and great voice he had for a man almost sixty years old. His enthusiasm was infectious and he had great charisma and stage presence. He belted out song after song. Some songs I did not know, some I recognised but I could not name. It didn't really matter. Even somebody not aqcuainted with Springsteen's songs would have really enjoyed the concert, it was that kind of night. I liked some of his new songs, particularly 'Outlaw Pete' and 'Working On A Dream'. Other classics such as 'Pink Cadillac' and 'Thunder Road' went down a treat. The atmosphere inside Hampden was terrific, the crowd of 55,000 applauding every song. The famous E Street Band lived up to their reputation and it was obvious that they were all top class musicians. The sound crew also deserve credit. The sound was really clear and well balanced. Bruce saved the best for last. The encore started with an old time ballad about hard times, followed by 'Dancing In The Dark', another song I did not know and 'Born To Run'. Towards the end I noticed a lady standing up just behind me, her eyes closed, mouthing every word of the song being played. She was totally in the zone and I suppose it would have been something almost like a religious experience for her. He played for just under three hours, eclipsing his two and a half hour set at Glastonbury and the whole band walked off to a deserved standing ovation. I've been to a few gigs this year: Ray LaMontagne, Tom Paxton, Half Man Half Biscuit and Richard Thompson. They were all excellent but this evening had been something a bit special. I met up with Raphe afterwards and we both raved about the concert. I don't know if it was Raphe's terrible sense of direction or the fact that we were so engrossed in our conversation (probably a bit of both) but we ended up miles away from Shawlands and not with the faintest idea where we were. For a while we wandered around a prosperous looking area with big mansions and gardens before stopping a couple to ask for directions, which they kindly did. They had also been to the concert and we parted agreeing that it had been a wonderful night. We eventually found Raphe's place just before midnight, a handsome tenement flat in a nice area. We stayed up a couple of hours, had a glass of Glenlivet whiskey (lovely), chatted for a while and then watched an episode of The Wire (very good but I could'nt understand what they were saying half the time). Despite his terrible sense of direction Raphe is a great guy and I really enjoy his company. I slept in the spare room, woken only by Raphe at about 7.30am to get some clothes and say cheerio. I dozed for a couple of hours but decided not to stay too long because Raphe's fiancee was on holiday and due back at the flat at some point. I did'nt want her to return to the flat and find a stranger making coffee in his underwear. I had visions of me being lead away by the police shouting out 'I really am Raphe's cousin, honest!' so I made a quick getaway. As for Raphe he was never heard of again. He is still probably wandering around the south side of Glasgow as I speak looking for his flat, poor guy!

A short reflection on Michael Jackson

2009-07-15T05:21:00.000-07:00

Michael Jackson. Where do I start? It took me a couple of days for his death to sink in. I don't have any of his albums but I admired his great talent as a singer, dancer, musician and showman. It's hard to separate fact from fiction. All the rumours, all the speculation, the lost childhood, the weird behaviour, the physical transformation, the constant media spotlight. After his untimely death it did'nt take long for the tasteless jokes to circulate via email. He was never actually found guilty of child abuse, but I guess we'll never really know the whole truth. Maybe there was child abuse, maybe there was'nt. Maybe he just loved the company of children in a totally innocent way because he was denied his own childhood. I think it's a sad reflection of the society that we live in. I'm sure there are many adults, especially men, who are afraid to show physical affection to a child because, in the back of their mind, there is the worry that people might misinterpret it as something more sinister and perverted. He was rich and famous and liked the company of children - he left himself wide open to be taken advantage of and it was something the media could get their claws into. He was probably naive in that sense. My friend Alan reckons he faked his own death and it won't be long till there are 'Jacko sightings'. I would disagree with him there. If you saw the touching and tearful words spoken by his daughter Paris at the memorial service then I don't think a loving father would willingly put his children through all the trauma and pain of grief. Anyway, the man will always remain a mystery, he will always be an icon and his talents will always be admired and celebrated. Rest in peace Michael.

Rosie and Paul's wedding

2009-07-12T07:48:00.000-07:00

Rosie and Paul's wedding started at 1pm but we had to pick up my sister Christina and my Uncle Kester on route so we left the house about 11.30am. Christina looked great in her blue vintage dress and thankfully she had recovered from her recent illness well enough to attend the wedding. Uncle Kester was co celebrating mass so he had to be at the church fairly early to get prepared. His short term memory had deteriorated in the last few years and he kept forgetting peoples names although during mass he recited a long prayer off the top of his head and later on at the reception he talked to my dad about books and philosophy so obviously certain parts of his brain are still functioning very well. I like him very much, he's a cool guy. This was the first big family event I had been to for a number of years so I was slightly nervous but all my cousins and aunts and uncles were pleased to see me and we exchanged warm greetings. The mass was lovely. Rosie looked beautiful in her white wedding dress and was glowing with happiness. Paul also looked very relaxed and happy. The only blemish was the homily. Instead of talking about the sacrament of marriage and Rosie and Paul he droned on about the priesthood and himself, repeating the same points over and over. He did eventually talk about Rosie and Paul but it felt more like an afterthought, rather than the focal point. I think he liked the sound of his own voice. My Uncle Brian timed the homily at 30 minutes but it felt more like two hours and my mind began to wander after a while, daydreaming about Jessica Alba and other gorgeous and unattainable women. Afterwards we made our way to the Marriott Hotel in the city centre for the dinner and reception. I mingled and chatted for an hour or two in the lobby, sipping on the complimentary champagne. Then Rosie and Paul arrived to loud applause and shortly after we made our way through to the main function room for dinner. The tables were all named after albums or songs by the late great Michael Jackson. I don't know if this was a last minute tribute or something planned well in advance but it was a novel idea. Maybe at my wedding the tables can named after my favorite wrestlers. 'John, you're sitting at the Bret 'The Hitman' Hart table'. Each table had a photo of MJ and the title of the album or song. I was sitting at the 'You Gonna Start Somethin' table but, in keeping with my character, maybe I should have been at the 'Bad' or 'Off the Wall' tables. I was seated next to Christina and an old acquaintance David Kerr on my left and my cousin Lucille Rose and her boyfriend Tom on my right. Lucille Rose is a lovely girl and over dinner we chatted away about Michael Jackson and her degree in medicine. The dinner was very good: melon and mango slices for starter, chicken wrapped in bacon with potatoes and veg for the main course, and cheesecake for dessert. The wine and chat flowed freely, maybe a bit too freely as my memory from this point gets a bit hazy. I was just about lucid enough to follow the speeches and to cheer and laugh and applaude at the right moments. They actually went very well, including the best man's speech, which is always a bit of a banana skin, and thankfully there was no embarassing anecdotes. Contrary to tradition Rosie got up and spoke, and she did so very well. She recalled the time when Paul and herself were 'just good friends' and saying to him 'You're not my type and I'll never be your type'. It's funny how things turn out! She also said to Paul 'Thank you for not trying to understand me but for just loving me and accepting me'. I thought that was very sweet. Shortly after the speeches the band arrived and they were terrifc, playing swing and jazz, so Rosie and Paul had their first dance in style. My dancing is quite shocking so I stayed away from the dance floor, the only exception being when everyone gathered around to watch my mad cousin Adrian dance Michael Jackson style to one of his songs. It's really the only time a man can grab his crotch and shout 'OOiii' and not get arrested for indecent behaviour. To give Adrian his due he was a great mover and thoroughly entertained the onlookers. I spent the rest of the evening mostly catching up with my cousins, who I had not seen for quite a while. There was a mixture of good craic and banter, deep and philosophical conversations, and general chit chat. I'm not a great conversationalist but I managed to pass myself okay and enjoyed the company. As for chatting up a good looking blonde I'm afraid I was unsuccessful. My excuse is that I have about 40 cousins and most of the evening was spent catching up with them, so there was not much time left for chasing girls. I did have a very good conversation with a nice girl in the early hours of the morning but her boyfriend was lurking in the background so it was a non starter. But I can't really complain, it was a great wedding. My only regret was that I did'nt get a chance to say hello and congradulations to Rosie but I will send her a card after she returns from honeymoon in Thailand. Rosie and Paul are a really lovely couple and I'm sure they will be very happy together. I wish them all the very best.

Tailor made

2009-07-07T07:14:00.000-07:00

My cousin Rosie gets married this Friday so I went in search of a new suit to impress the ladies with. I had tried on the suit jacket that I had bought about ten years ago but, to the dismay of my wallet and I, it no longer fitted my waistline. It reminded me of the scene from 'Father of the Bride' when Steve Martin is determined to fit into the tuxedo he had worn twenty five years earlier at his own wedding. As memory serves me he struggles comically for a while and then his trousers rip down the back. I certainly don't want that to happen to me when I'm chatting up a good looking blonde at the reception, so, with a sigh of resignation, I went to our local outdoor shopping mall armed with my debit card. With my mum as personal advisor we first went to Asda looking for a bargain. The suits there were quite nice and very cheap but the sizes were all to big. I'm no slim Jim myself but they were hanging loosely from my frame as though they were designed for sumo wrestlers. I guess this is a sad case of supply and demand as, accordingly to statistics, Scotland is the unhealthiest nation in Europe and has the highest rate of obesity and heart disease. Our diet plays a major part in this, as we deep fry anything that is edible, from pizza to Mars bars. It reminded me of a funny comment made on a comedy quiz show called 'Mock the week'. The topic of conversation was the spotting of sharks in the North Sea just off the coast of Scotland. One comedian, a sharp witted Scotsman called Frankie Boyle, quipped that if a shark was to eat Scottish people the shark would probably die of a heart attack. It was one of those moments when you are walking or sitting among a crowded area and you think of something funny and involuntary burst out laughing or grin inanely, causing people to edge away from you cautiously. Anyway we moved onto another shop but with the same outcome. I absolutely hate shopping, especially for clothes, so I decided to go a proper shop that specialises in suits, fancy shirts, etc. I found a suit that I liked fairly quickly and it was half price, so twenty minutes later I emerged with the content air of a man who knows that come Friday he'll be looking smart and suave. The wedding will be HUGE. 200 guests at the wedding and dinner, and then another 150 will come to the reception. Hopefully it will be a good day. To quote Jane Austen, I wish Rosie and Paul 'all imaginable happiness'.

Terminator v Nokia

2009-07-04T10:48:00.000-07:00

After watching Terminator Salvation at the cinema recently I was faced with the inevitable question - which is more indestructible, a Terminator machine or my Nokia mobile? The endurance of the Nokia phone is quite remarkable. Over the past ten years or so I have dropped it more times than I can remember and it has a crack the size of the Grand Canyon but it still faithfully operates. My friend Alan once dropped his Nokia down three flights of stairs, smashing it to pieces. He managed to reassemble the phone and it still works to this day! I have lost many things over the years: keys, books, hats, even friends, but my trusty Nokia is still by my side and as a result a sort of spiritual bond has developed between us. Terminator v Nokia? There is only one winner!

Pennychews hit by global recession

2009-07-02T15:51:00.000-07:00

For those who don't know a 10p mixture in Scotland is traditionally a bag of sweets to the value of ten pence. A pennychew is a sweet worth one pence and usually there will be a couple of sweets worth 2p and maybe one worth 5p but it all adds up to ten pence and the economics are pretty simple even to a mathematically challenged person like me. That all made sense until my friend Mark told me that he recently went into a shop and noticed, I imagine, to his bemusement that a 10p mixture actually cost 20p! I know this is a time of global recession but this must be the worse case of inflation that I've heard of. 10p mixtures were part of my boyhood and I can't help to think of them without a hint of nostalgia, so it's sad to see the day when a pennychew is no longer a pennychew.

Prologue

2009-07-02T11:53:00.000-07:00

Welcome and warm greetings to the launch of my much awaited blog. I have procrastinated enough and it's now time to start it off. My blog will have no real theme, it will just be a collection of random thoughts, anecdotes, observations, rants, some poetry and quotes. If you are expecting Jane Austen or Bill Bryson then you have come to the wrong place, but I will try my best to keep my blog entertaining and enjoyable to read. I have the bad habit of not persevering with things that require a certain amount of discipline and effort but I hope that I will keep this blog up and running with fairly regular entries. It will be interesting to see how it develops over the coming months and years. Comments are very welcome and please forward this blog onto friends if you think they will enjoy it. An honourable mention to Tony Murphy for encouraging me to start this. Thanks.