Serendipity or….

…. just Hallowe’en spooky?

So there was I, resisting the temptatation to close the eyes, a quiet half hour, Urchins a-bed.  Then I hear that the new AutumnWatch is coming from The Highlands.  Hmm, thought I, must try and stay awake; all those autumn colours and rutting stags, eagles and sea eagles no doubt.  So it was with a special effort that I heard those three magic words in the opening announcements – Aigas Field Centre.

Surely it wasn’t but 12 hours since I typed the words John Lister-Kaye?  But it was and I woke up, determined to stay the course.  For Aigas is JLK’s baby, and it was the subject of his latest book, published 2010, At The Water’s Edge.

Nature Writing of the highest quality

He wrote then of a year’s cycle in his one mile daily walk round the loch at the edge of which the three intrepid presenters stood shivering.  It was a year that took 30 years to build; and on every walk in his non-rustling jacket he carried a notebook, and two pens.  The result is a delight, after 40 years of honing his writing into one of the finest commentators on nature around.

Don’t just take my word for it.  Let’s look at the first testament on the back cover – Full of otter-story and heron-meanings, this is a book where sunrise, pine marten, trout and storm are all characters; a book of land-knowing by someone who has spent a gentle lifetime learning the languages of animals – and the author of those words is none other than…..   Jay Griffiths, cue spooky music.

I remember reading Lister-Kaye’s first book, The White Island.  He hadn’t written before Gavin Maxwell rang his phone at 2.30am and gave him the offer he couldn’t refuse, the one where he deserted Swansea and headed for the highlands, where he has been ever since.  Sadly Maxwell died too young and too soon, but they had some valauable time together and a tale to tell.  Water’s Edge is the eighth, and one of his best.

Maxwell, Otters and much more

That lighthouse on that cover is Stevenson built, the cottages to the right are available today, as Eilean Ban has been saved for a bit longer.  One is as it was when Maxwell stayed there, after the fire at Camusfearna, and a visit is spine-tingling if you have read all that happened in those days.  The other is available for holiday lets, a writer’s retreat perhaps.

The picture today is a bit different though, the Skye bridge swooping down from the left, almost above the lighthouse, forming a landing strip on the island and from thence a link to the mainland.

But you can, if you wish, still go Over the Sea to Skye, on the ferry at Glenelg, now twinned with Mars, and just a mile or three from Sandaig, or Camusfearna as it was known then.

The second testimonial on the back of the latest book was penned by Kate Humble, and as I watched the first in this new series I longed for her cheery manner under that tumble of curls, that ever-present sparkle.  Perhaps its a man thing, though I longed for Bill Oddie too.

Then I stayed with BBC2 for the Iceberg drama.  Wasn’t that just fantastic viewing, gripping stuff?  But I thought they missed a bit of a trick.  I’d have liked some input from the Inuit who have lived with the glacier for thousands of years.  Still it won’t stop me tuning in next week, to both programmes, anxious for more.  And if you’ve a mind to do some reading beforehand, you could do worse than pick up anything from the pen of John Lister-Kaye.

Wild

The name of Jay Griffiths has crossed my desk several times of late.  I had read one of her works several years ago, enjoying it immensely.  More recently an interview with her featured in the inaugural issue of Earthlines magazine – they’ve got Robert Macfarlane and John Lister-Kaye up next – and then I had the enormous pleasure of listening to a reading by Jay.  So I undertook to read Wild – An Elemental Journey once again, trying to hold that wonderful and personal delivery in my head.

Wild is a monumental work.  Griffiths spent seven years in various parts of the world exploring wild, wildness, wilderness, and exploring all of the language that goes with it.  It is a work split into various aspects of our society:  Earth; Ice; Water; Air; Fire; and finally Mind.  At various times she has been in dark places, but shamans as far apart as Peru and Mongolia provided healing.

The First Edition

She has taken halucinogens with natives, but realised that the most vivid dreams come with rising altitude, and they are the ones that stay the longest.  My own favourites were of Ice, where she travelled and lived with Inuit; and with Fire, in the mountains of West Papua, railing against oppression and battling for freedom.

And throughout it all I found my long-held distaste for all things related to ‘goodness’ brought to the ‘savages’ of the world by missionaries intent on promoting their god at the expense of all others, rising once again.  And it’s not just those men of the 19th century opening up the world, for it goes on yet today, whether in West Papua, or wherever else the Empire of yesterday or today’s leaders of western democracy threaten, in the name of god.

The bibliography of Wild exceeds 20 pages; there is a vast amount of research.  But from that comes the voice of a deeply sensual author, deeply caring.  When she longed to read of oceanry all she got was ‘shippery, quadrants and compasses’.  Yet when she donned her wetsuit and aqualung and got beneath the waves she treated us to something very different.

The turtle spoons its way back to Ascension, as it has done for 150 million years, without maps.  Shearwaters dive for escaping mackerel, giving us flying fish and swimming birds; and all around is fecundity, despite our efforts to stop the world.

Wild is one of those books to cherish, so you may not be surprised that I’ve found the hardback first edition for the collection.  It is a book where the writing itself has to be read, closely, not just the tale she tells.  Beautiful stuff.

The Author, courtesy of Earthlines

In Earthlines Jay Griffiths tells us that she “wants to paint the rainbow, as far as I can, prismatically, through language.  You cannot ultimately break a rainbow, you can only fail to see its myriad shattered beauties”.  She belives in beauty and in goodness and in her writing shares it with us.  To hear her read is a different level altogether.  It is deep and meaningful, very meaningful.

But she’s not finished yet, and there’s a new book out in the spring – Kith: The Riddle of the Childscape.  We are promised a discourse on why we have enclosed our children in a consumerist cornucopia, denying them freedoms of space and time and deep play, using history and language and literature.  That sounds like one to delve into next year, and I’ve placed my order.

Sewing Circles and Her Hat

The hat is the easy bit, for they were many and varied.  They came in all shapes and sizes, for it’s that time of the year again.  There was a gathering the other night, in the old Rural Hall.  And they came in numbers, for the school children were joined by their future colleagues, the pre-schoolers dragging another batch of parents along to join in the fun.  So we had witches’ hats and pussy ears, farmers’ bunnets and skulls, amongst other things.

But it was the literature that caught my attention, for it was not expected.  The wimmenfolks have been known to engage in communal activity, the crochet classes of the Rural, or the stitch & bitch sessions as they are known, being a case in point.  But the discussions the other night could see a fully fledged Sewing Circle meeting clandestinely around the outlying barns, under cover of darkness.

Those snippets of conversation, overheard whilst dishing out the soup and the bread, the chocolate cake even.  Now they were real eye-openers.  And these were the mothers of those little darlings, the ones running around dookin’ for apples, sookin’ doughnuts off strings and generally making a noise, or having fun as someone said.

Brilliant isn’t it, Have you read the third one?

Oh so and so’s got it, she’s got them all.  A’ve read every wan.

Now we’re not talking shifty plaids here; wimmen wrapped up in shawls, passing the nights with their spinning wheels as they should be, some may think though I couldn’t possibly comment.

Even the men were joining in, knowing full well, encouraging even, the scandal that had been going on under there roofs.

Huh, can’t say I noticed any difference.  Don’t know why she bothered.

Now sure enough there were occasional embarrassed glances, mutterings of it not being a good book but great fun to read.  And I guess with the latest news of reading times at bedtime we should be thankful of any activity.  But fifty shades, girls, please.  I hear the Prison Service has requested extra copies, for their reading groups.  Oh well, they say literacy standards are poor among those incarcerated, but the girls need to have their fun I suppose.  It’s just as well the Queen of Hearts wasn’t around; there may have been trouble.

But a Sewing Circle, now there’s a good idea, if they were ever looking for another reason for a girlie night from time to time.  But they’d need to ask said Queen of Hearts to chair it.  They should have asked her along the other night, if only so we could get to see that Myrtle outfit once more.

A wee something

….. for the weekend sir?

I know it’s a beautiful morning, but go on, start the day with a smile.

While the cause burns brightly is the party over for the SNP?

While the cause burns brightly is the party over for the SNP?.

Excellent article over at Bella, and good debate from comments posted, so I thought I’d share it with you.

We have had two resignations from the SNP in the aftermath of conference adopting a pro-Nato strategy.  There are issues with this.

Firstly in my view is the status of MSPs awarded a seat at Holyrood from the Regional Lists.  This is a mechanism to reward parties that missed out on the constituency seat.  It was  the party on the list and no individuals were mentioned.  Each party listed candidates in order of preference and were rewared with list seats in the region on the basis of total votes and taking account of constituency seats won.

So if list members resign from the party is it not the case that the seat remains with the party?  Indeed SNP policy is for resignation from the representative body to be the natural consequence, which in this case would allow the next two on the list to take up the seats awarded to the party.  No by-elections for list seats.

Then we need to consider the overall strategy.  Of prime importance is the obtaining of a Yes vote in the referendum.  In fact it is the only possible route to withdraw from our existing Nato membership.  So Yes comes first, and a pro-Nato stance at this stage may allow others to join that cause, or rather may be a factor in not having them oppose it.

Once that Yes vote has been obtained, and a new government appointed following the 2016 election, that first appointed government of an independent Scotland can consider again the position on Nato, whichever party, or parties, form that government.  That may not be, or even include, the SNP, though I shudder to even think of the alternatives that may hold the post of First Minister if it is not.

So the whole direction for the next two years is to maximise on the Yes vote, and the two highland members may have been better placed to influence that from within the party, accept the majority decision of the party, and work towards that first goal before considering a shot at the second.  And if they have to give up the party’s regional seats as a result of their decision……

 

The Financials

Barnett Consequentials – that’s a phrase you hear often in relation to Scotland’s finances, even when Westminster is discussing something that may appear to have no direct effect on Scotland because powers in that area have been devolved.

But it may not be so, as the formula behind Barnett is destined to allow us only an equivalent of the spend that is made down south from the public purse.  And the landscape is changing, you may or may not have noticed.  For privatisation creeps in at every turn and that means less public expense and as a result Barnett Consequentials.

It is going to become hugely important in the next two years to grasp the impact, especially with the current Westminster government set firmly on the road to Virgin Clinics in the hospitals, amongst other things.

So take a few minutes and read this excellent analysis from our friends at Wings Over Scotland.  And think carefully on any preference to remain with what we have and the inexorable decline that will bring, or to take charge and to look after our children and our elderly in the manner of our choosing.  You decide.

PS A wee film for you to watch

 

I was almost singing….

….. yesterday; it was one of those days.  There really were few around so it would have caused little offence.  It was Those Autumn Leaves that did it, and they flew not past my window for there was scarcely a breath in the air.

But the colours were all there for autumn has arrived.  The wind and the rain have been shown the door and the sun has returned, frost even.  Enjoy it while it lasts.  For no doubt the others will be back soon enough.

But for now enjoy those last few leaves clinging stubbornly to the stems of the dogwood, dressed in autumn glory, a rich shiraz it brings to mind.  And there’s my little rowan tree, looking splendid.

Oh Rowan Tree

And the beech in its motley, that stage before it becomes crinkled and brown.

Of course the sun appeared just after….

But it’s not all garden glory in these parts, for we have had an intruder, and the garden is pockmarked, recovery will be difficult.  There are some four-footed invaders from the coutryside you really don’t mind.  The stoat may pay a call from time to time; there is evidence of rodent burrowings; sheep occasionally wander in eating everything above the browse-line of the rabbits when the winter is at its harshest.

But this latest one is causing a problem.  There have been two of them at times and they are large and hop over fences.  One has taken up residence in our paddock; the other on the verges by the road.  They have an owner, supposedly responsible.

Now I am very partial to fresh milk, blue top of course, and mince is on the menu regularly, with tatties and mealie pud, onions too.  Burgers are not my thing.

But there has been a heifer in the garden and I could be persuaded.  Yes it is good to see the beasts still out at grass as autumn colours the coutryside.  Many are indoors already, munching on scarce silage, for the fields are too wet to risk eternal damage by keeping them out longer.

So the damage is done to my garden instead.  Pock-marked with holes four inches deep, splattered with goo, and cud made from every ornamental grass I can grow.  She seems to have left the bamboo alone, so the pandas will be fine.  They don’t seem to realise that this thing I call grass is needed to be reasonably smooth, for football purposes.  She’s even knocked the goals over though that could have been the wind whilst I was away.

We have a deep and springy bed of moss, the mower shaves it regularly.  And I have a nice bed of slow and low conifers developing.  None of it has escaped.  All has been under the hoof.  Then I glance out the window, autumn colours in a warming sun, frost burning slowly off.  Calm descends, for the school bus has been and life returns to normal, but for the coo in the garden.

Watershed Moments

Much has been happening of late, and I have spared the commentary and tittle tattle for a while.  But decisions have been made and there is now a clear path ahead.  There will be a referendum in Autumn 2014; Scotland will decide.

Both governments have signed the Edinburgh Agreement.  The paper will ask us one question; today’s youth, tomorrow’s future will be allowed to have their say, should they want it.  Now is not the time for point-scoring; to suggest which side may have conceded what.  But I do remember Angus Robertson telling me a year ago that the plan was  for a one question strategy, always had been.

So the issue of Devo Max, Devo Plus or whatever is off the agenda.  We need to reflect on how that arose.  2007 saw the election of a nationalist government, in a minority administration.  It was evident from the start that they were up against the combined forces of the London-based parties, intent on thwarting every positive move.  But the government survived, and thrived, and the people saw through the negative tactics; and saw what could be achieved if it were allowed to happen.

So 2011 saw a landslide majority government elected, the result that wasn’t supposed to be possible under the D’Hondt voting system introduced for just that purpose.  All three London-based leaders fell on their swords.  Suddenly the opportunity for democracy to actually happen became a reality; the people could have their say and the referendum bill could receive parliamentary assent.

Enter the fray talk of more powers – stay with us and you can have more than we wanted to give you, please don’t leave.  The opinion polls suggested this may be popular, but it is not to be, other than promises of trust us, we’ll deliver, but we’re not going to tell you what.

So now the battle is one, to persuade those who wanted more powers whilst remaining shackled to the corpse, to make a decision one way or another.  This is the pivotal group, for the Ayes and the Naws are unlikely to change. Now it strikes me that from the Devo Max camp it is but a tiny step to full independence.  Only defence and foreign affairs are added, and Scotland does not want to host WMDs and to risk nuclear spillage.  Scotland does not want to send her soldiers to wage illegal wars around the globe, returning boxed or maimed for a dubious cause. And there’s the question of £2bn.

I am not going to rant about the BBC’s Question Time the other night.  It was the usual gang, the unruly mob badly chaperoned.  By all accounts the only person to emerge with credit was the trade unionist, and he spent his time ripping shreds from Labour.  Scotland wants to be socially democratic, which seems to me to rule Labour out of the equation in their present guise.  But the emerging Labour for Independence group may see that change.

I was heartened though by the debate on Radio Scotland hosted by Brian Taylor.  For a change it was seen to be impartial; two representatives from each of Yes Scotland and Better Together, and we need much more of that in the months ahead. And with Hyslop and Merton giving it their usual treatment, and the News Quiz joining in too, you know it’s going to happen.

Then the nationalists reviewed their defence strategy, with a storming and passionate debate on NATO membership.  It is a long time since debate of such quality was heard in any conference hall in these islands.  Kenny MacAskill’s speech was a belter.  Feelings ran very high and cynics may say the change of strategy could be to appeal to those who are swithering, not wishing to be isolated.  So it may be but the goal is unchanged, independent and nuclear free.  I can buy into that.

Paris and Parks

My own favourites may be different to those of the younger members of the family, for while they preferred the road out of town, I took the train back in.

Eventually I found the Jardin du Luxembourg, and whiled away the hours relaxed, despite exhaustion; fulfilled, even more so than among the stacks and the jazz piano of Shakespeare and Company.

The gardens have their 400th anniversary this very year and remain the perfect place to take the air; an escape from the sounds and smells of the throbbing city all around.  I loved the avenues of chestnut trees, all dressed to match.  But I’d really like to know the height and age of this majestic beast:

‘Neath the Rising Chestnut Tree

There was some serious competition taking place, from the students running the circuits as part of their PE class, to the chessboards, and to the petanque court.  The latter hosted three or four matches as we ambled past; one even contained a woman, and was she good.  From high lobs dropping with inch-perfect precision, to exocets honing in on a target, that court had skills to gasp at.  I had to be dragged away before a few minutes became an intrusion.

But most of all I loved the trees, and the statues, and the solitude.  And I had a hand to hold.  Primarily the statues, and there are over a hundred of them, are of France’s women, most taking up residence in 1848 , with writers and artists added within half a century.  Liberte is there too, the bronze model for the monolith in New York.

Flowers, Trees and Peace

I had a degree of disappointment with the Medici, dating back to 1630, not of the fountain itself, or the renovation and the addition of sculptures in the mid-19th century, but with the light.  It was dark and gloomy and those trees need to be cut back.  The goldfish in the pond thrive despite the lack of light.  Open it up and it could reflect the skies in much the same way as the pools of The Alhambra.

But that is a minor complaint and Le Jardin is my abiding memory of a first visit to the capital of France.  Sure I have pounded the streets and marvelled at the sights; soaked up the atmosphere in the alleys of the 5th, the boulevards of the 6th, and even visited a cafe or two if only to dry out and warm up.  Long will I remember Eric, our host at Le Jardin du Roy, turning on the multi-lingual charm and working the pavement.  Soon we were joined by visitors from Denmark, from Spain and Argentina, from France too.

I like city rivers, and the view from the boats; and I like travelling by train and finding my way out of unfamiliar stations.  Theme parks though, I can live without, but to the city I will gladly return.  The Urchins may disagree, for they had Favourite Uncle, and Auntie too, so as mere parents we just aren’t at the same funpark, thankfully.  But it was good, and now we’ve a birthday to celebrate, the last time there will be a 7th in the household.  Time for chocolate cake.

The Author’s First Book

…..is often pretty special, the one that may command the highest price in the second-hand bookshop.  Take, for instance Bruce Chatwin’s In Patagonia, which may easily command 10 times the price of his later works, and more.  So that’s not bad company for Mark Charlton to be in.  His Counting Steps – a journey through landscape and fatherhood will surely be joined by others in the years ahead; and the immediate problem may be in identifying the next subject for scrutiny, a task that may not be simple.

Heart, Soul, Relationships and much more

For Mark has clearly poured his heart and soul into this one, and much of that is exposed, laid bare for our intrusion.  I would recommend that you take up that offer.  Counting Steps is both delightful, and thought-provoking.  You may well find yourself examining your own past and those special moments we all have with our children.  But you may also look inwards and backwards, at what went on before and shaped your outlook on life.

It is the sort of book you put down carfully after you have reached the final page.  You may find yourself handing it on – you need to read this – I know I did, and I don’t generally hand books out.

Mark has put together a collection of essays on some pivotal moments in his journey through life, exploring the road he has travelled and looking forward to the miles ahead.  He looks deeply at the people and the places that have left an impression, and reflects closely on those.

You may find yourself nodding as you recognise aspects.  For instance there is the moment when eldest son Daniel confounded his father’s usual grump of teenage incompetence; or the time when the sporting dreams are eclipsed by Michael at a tender age and without his father’s years of experience .  And there is a father’s love for his youngest, and last, child.  But he’ll tell you too of the difficulties along the road, from childhood to conception and beyond.

It’s not all introspective views for amongst these essays are forays into the world of the butterfly collector, the rock climber with his little bag of chalk, and the cyclist, king of the mountains – until Mike leaves him gasping.  There’s a passion for the people and places around him, and none of it would be possible without Jane to give him gentle guidance.

You will laugh and you may cry and you may have been there.  You may recognise some of the places visited or have family memories of similar events.  But I think you’ll be left with an impression of being proud to have a father or a child in the same mould, even if Daniel’s girlfriend is told not to talk to him – he’s a bit weird -; and just might reflect on your own relationships a little bit deeper.

Mark Charlton is a writer of some craft, and I look forward to more.