![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Out for the Count.
Jun. 18th, 2017 12:20 pmI wrote this about the two recent election counts I went to.
Loitering, with Intent.
May. 4th, 2017 03:18 pmI have just finished the second of three two-hour slots standing outside a polling station in support of the LibDem candidate in the city centre. (There is a chance of winning there - better than in the ward I'm actually standing!). One can't campaign at the polling station; just stand there, looking pretty. Well, looking.
Starting before 8am, I stood alone wearing my party rosette outside the polling station, set in a five star hotel in one of the city's major business streets. That in itself was quite strange: the hotel staff, though berry polite, seemed slightly unprepared to have parties' advertising boards outside their entrance. When I got there, there were groups of tourists standing around, Americans waiting for a bus to take them the Holyrood Palace (not far, the walk would have done them some good!), Germans for two minibuses to take them to a golf course somewhere.
A middle aged American woman asked if I had a spare rosette. I think she might have been confused by the Democrat in Liberal Democrat.
After an hour or so, a young Tory arrived to loiter with me. He wore a blue kagoule with the Scottish Conservative and Unionist Party logo emblazoned, but discretely, on the front. He was very chatty, and seemed to know more about my party than I did. He has the passion of the young: he kept talking about "the Leader" (meaning Ruth Davidson) in a way that was rather disturbing. But despite being very pro Tory, his views seemed at odds with his party. He was passionately pro EU - he had been heavily involved in "Conservative In" last year, and bemoaned the large number of Euro-philic MPs who were now silent. He believed in voting reform, being very in favour of proportional representation. He even thought some of Corbyn's economic policies made sense.
A little later we were joined by the Tory candidate for the ward, who also sounded very reasonable. She's practically certain to get in: my bet is she'll win in the first round with c 30% of the first preference votes. (Scotland council elections use the single transferable vote system, where you rank candidates by preference. So you get as many votes as there are candidates. And there are multiple rounds, as excess votes get reallocated and the lowest polling candidate drops out until all the spaces are filled.)
After my first shift, I went off for breakfast and to get my hair cut. My barber asked what I was up to, and I came clean and said I was involved in the election. I expressed doubt that standing outside the polling station actually accomplished anything; she said that she always noticed campaigners not campaigning, standing there - it shows we care and how dedicated we are. So maybe I am making a difference.
The second shift, noon to 2pm, was busier for voters but for almost all the time I was there alone. I was asked lots of questions. A small group of large American tourists asked me if the place on the corner was a pizzeria; it was, but I felt like suggesting maybe they should give pizza a miss for the sake of their hearts.
Many people asked me if this was the polling station. Given that I was standing beside a sign saying "Polling Place", I had to confess it was. One asked if I was sure it wasn't in the church down the road. There's no pleasing some people.
Several asked about the voting system, and whether they needed to rank every candidate. (No. And in the lower reaches, it probably doesn't make much difference.)
There was a Green activist there for a short while: he was spending the day going from polling station to polling station. He seemed a nice enough guy, though he quickly to go to another polling station. Then, just before 2pm, a middle aged women came and style next to the Tory advertising board. She wasn't wearing a Conservative kagoule, but a conservative tweed coat. Not did she have a rosette. Maybe she was just loitering.
Starting before 8am, I stood alone wearing my party rosette outside the polling station, set in a five star hotel in one of the city's major business streets. That in itself was quite strange: the hotel staff, though berry polite, seemed slightly unprepared to have parties' advertising boards outside their entrance. When I got there, there were groups of tourists standing around, Americans waiting for a bus to take them the Holyrood Palace (not far, the walk would have done them some good!), Germans for two minibuses to take them to a golf course somewhere.
A middle aged American woman asked if I had a spare rosette. I think she might have been confused by the Democrat in Liberal Democrat.
After an hour or so, a young Tory arrived to loiter with me. He wore a blue kagoule with the Scottish Conservative and Unionist Party logo emblazoned, but discretely, on the front. He was very chatty, and seemed to know more about my party than I did. He has the passion of the young: he kept talking about "the Leader" (meaning Ruth Davidson) in a way that was rather disturbing. But despite being very pro Tory, his views seemed at odds with his party. He was passionately pro EU - he had been heavily involved in "Conservative In" last year, and bemoaned the large number of Euro-philic MPs who were now silent. He believed in voting reform, being very in favour of proportional representation. He even thought some of Corbyn's economic policies made sense.
A little later we were joined by the Tory candidate for the ward, who also sounded very reasonable. She's practically certain to get in: my bet is she'll win in the first round with c 30% of the first preference votes. (Scotland council elections use the single transferable vote system, where you rank candidates by preference. So you get as many votes as there are candidates. And there are multiple rounds, as excess votes get reallocated and the lowest polling candidate drops out until all the spaces are filled.)
After my first shift, I went off for breakfast and to get my hair cut. My barber asked what I was up to, and I came clean and said I was involved in the election. I expressed doubt that standing outside the polling station actually accomplished anything; she said that she always noticed campaigners not campaigning, standing there - it shows we care and how dedicated we are. So maybe I am making a difference.
The second shift, noon to 2pm, was busier for voters but for almost all the time I was there alone. I was asked lots of questions. A small group of large American tourists asked me if the place on the corner was a pizzeria; it was, but I felt like suggesting maybe they should give pizza a miss for the sake of their hearts.
Many people asked me if this was the polling station. Given that I was standing beside a sign saying "Polling Place", I had to confess it was. One asked if I was sure it wasn't in the church down the road. There's no pleasing some people.
Several asked about the voting system, and whether they needed to rank every candidate. (No. And in the lower reaches, it probably doesn't make much difference.)
There was a Green activist there for a short while: he was spending the day going from polling station to polling station. He seemed a nice enough guy, though he quickly to go to another polling station. Then, just before 2pm, a middle aged women came and style next to the Tory advertising board. She wasn't wearing a Conservative kagoule, but a conservative tweed coat. Not did she have a rosette. Maybe she was just loitering.
"Arrival".
Nov. 24th, 2016 12:41 pmI went to see the film Arrival the other day. I thought it was a very good sci fi film, working at a very personal level, although its subject is huge, possibly the biggest possible.
It was very thought provoking, and raised lots of questions. But a couple of things rankled. In posing them, there will be lots of spoilers, so if you want to see the film but haven't, don't read further. (If you haven't seen it, this won't make much sense to you, either.)
( Spoilers beyond here! )
It was very thought provoking, and raised lots of questions. But a couple of things rankled. In posing them, there will be lots of spoilers, so if you want to see the film but haven't, don't read further. (If you haven't seen it, this won't make much sense to you, either.)
( Spoilers beyond here! )
I'm just back from one of the most remarkable musical experiences of my life: Martyn Bennett's GRIT re-envisioned for a huge genre breaking orchestra by Greg Lawson.
It included jazz, folk and classical musicians. The string section alone composed about forty violins, cellos and basses. There was a nine piece make voice choir, six or seven folk singers; several pipers, saxophones and clarinets; trumpet, trombones and horns, and three percussionists.
They filled the Playhouse stage, and produced an amazing sound. I was right at the back, near the top of the gods, and it sounded great.
Bennett's album isn't one of my favourites, but Lawson's orchestration - for me - brings it to life. The scale of the endeavour - recreating samples, all the instruments, the different musical disciplines - make it completely bonkers, but it was incredibly powerful, emotional and moving.
They played it through, finishing with their version of Gerry Rafferty's "To Each And Everyone Of You", an emotional close, getting the audience to sing along. It was practically heartbreaking. There was a standing ovation, and huge applause; they came back for an encore, reprising "Chanter", a foot stamping raucous number. Another ovation, and they decided to repeat "To Each And Everyone Of You". Thrus was even emotional. As Greg Lawson conducted the audience singing, the musicians slowly left the stage, until Lawson and the audience were left alone. Another huge round of applause. The musicians came back on to applaud the audience and take a final bow.
Wow.
My only criticism - the only thing that might have made this a better gig - is that this was the biggest ceilidh band ever - but there was nowhere to dance. I really REALLY hope they repeat the gig sometime, but in a venue with no seats. Because the music made everyone want to dance!
Last weekend, heading east, I found myself driving along one of my favourite roads. The A697 goes across country from outside Edinburgh down to Morpeth. For a long while, I regular drove south along this road, cutting the corner the A1 follows. Most of the traffic taking the east coast route from Edinburgh follows the A1, so the A697 is quieter, and so faster, and much more fun to drive. Heading for the Northumbrian coast, it was fun to become reacquainted with the road.
Then on Thursday, I took another favourite road on the West coast route, the A701 from Edinburgh down to Moffat to pick up the M74 (readers in the south may think of it as the M6, though they'd be mistaken). Again most traffic follows the A702, a road with several right angle bends, so the A701 is both faster and quieter, a joy to drive.
These are two of my favourite roads, but not my most favourite road. It somewhat disturbs me that I have a favourite road, but I do. It's the A896, through Torridon; the peaks of Liatach and Ben Eighe tower over the winding aspfalt. An A-road, but in the remote far north that doesn't mean much: it is a single track road, with passing places. But traveling along the glen floor, it is flat, so you can see the oncoming traffic (or, nor commonly, the lack of it). Which means you can speed along the A896 fast, aware of any vehicles approaching in the other direction. It is such a fun road to drive!
Gas, Dust and Stone.
May. 21st, 2016 09:52 pmI've been playing Mike Westbrook's Uncommon Orchestra - A Bigger Show. They were playing in London last night, a rare occasion, and I was sorely tempted to go. It was only being sensible that stopped me.
It is a great album, a double CD. It matches Ellington and Mingus with a British sensibility, fairs and circuses.
But whilst I love the record, and play it often, playing it all the way through - both CDs - is rare. I've done it, but not often. Which is a shame: it works well as a whole, as well as individual CDs.
Still, I'm playing out now, wondering how it might have been last night, and glad I have the CDs to record the band.
I have just been at the hustings for the Holyrood elections next month. What with the constituency (Edinburgh N & Leith) and the list (Lothian), there were nine candidates (ten on the ballot, but Solidarity didn't show up), frankly too many to stay interested in the question. Several of the candidates were the same as at the Westminster election last year; but not the candidates who resonated then. Of the nine, two were women, all were white, and none had any apparent disability.
There were eight questions over ninety minutes, covering:
The team I play for (!), the LibDems, frankly put up a poor speaker (same candidate as last year, Martin Veart), and he didn't impress then or now. The way the election in the constituency goes, I don't think he has a chance, and I'll probably be voting tactically again. (God I hate the FPTP system.) They will get my vote for the Lothian list, where, should he not be successful in the Edinburgh Western constituency, we have a pretty strong candidate topping the list.
I was surprisingly impressed by the Labour candidate, Lesley Hinds, who is a councillor I've come across and didn't rate. She spoke with conviction, attacked the SNP government its failures over the last nine years and was the most convincing speaker.
The guy from RISE ("Respect, Independence, Socialism and Environmentalism", a left wing alliance), Calum Martin, was also rather impressive, which came as a surprise to me. (This says more about me than him.) He was articulate, had some interesting ideas, and had conviction. But probably unelectable - they're only standing on the list, so won't get my vote.
The UKIP guy was absolutely hopeless. He waffled, he deviated from the question, and I don't think he has a chance. He even lacked the charm of Coburn...
The Tory boy is also unelectable, I'd say, particularly given the disdain most people hold for the Tory government in Westminster. He held his own, but basically toed the party line.
The Green candidate, Andy Wightman, lacked the charisma of their candidate last year. They're only standing on the list, too.
The Women's Equality Party candidate, Lee Chalmers, was interesting. Another list-only party, every question was answered through the lens of equality. Which of course is why they're there, but seemed a bit limiting. Still, she said she didn't know in answer to one or two questions, which was refreshing.
The SNP candidate, Ben MacPherson, seemed to try to be contrite, but had to toe the party line. He'll probably get the constituency vote, though.
The audience was curious, as it was last year. There was no heckling. I wanted to, but clearly felt restrained by the New Town respectability. For the first fifteen or twenty minutes there was no applause, either. We just sat politely listening. After that there was a smattering of applause, particularly for Labour, SNP and the Greens, but frankly no one seemed to be getting that excited.
There were eight questions over ninety minutes, covering:
- tax (the dog-whistle issue in this election) - most would raise tax by 1p, except SNP, Tories and UKIP
- what they would spend any tax raised in (frankly the much more important topic) - out of a choice of NHS, education or council services, most went for NHS, education AND council services (including the SNP, which is ironic since over the last five years the SNP have underspent the NHS budget!); the LibDem and Labour stance on using tax raising powers to invest in education are clear
- what private members bill would they raise (the consensus seemed to be "housing")
- what to do about Police Scotland (which is in a mess following centralisation), the consensus being localisation and local accountability (even the guy from the SNP)
- the living wage (I was getting bored by now and didn't really pay attention)
- tuition fees, where there was a typical left/right split - SNP, Labour, Greens and LibDems keeping universities free; Tories and UKIP wanting to introduce fees to pay for better universities. Labour, the Tories and RISE held the SNP to account on their cutting of FE college places
- supermarkets v local shops and the use of planning rules, which I didn't really follow much
- and the last question which I don't remember, and I left at that point anyway.
The team I play for (!), the LibDems, frankly put up a poor speaker (same candidate as last year, Martin Veart), and he didn't impress then or now. The way the election in the constituency goes, I don't think he has a chance, and I'll probably be voting tactically again. (God I hate the FPTP system.) They will get my vote for the Lothian list, where, should he not be successful in the Edinburgh Western constituency, we have a pretty strong candidate topping the list.
I was surprisingly impressed by the Labour candidate, Lesley Hinds, who is a councillor I've come across and didn't rate. She spoke with conviction, attacked the SNP government its failures over the last nine years and was the most convincing speaker.
The guy from RISE ("Respect, Independence, Socialism and Environmentalism", a left wing alliance), Calum Martin, was also rather impressive, which came as a surprise to me. (This says more about me than him.) He was articulate, had some interesting ideas, and had conviction. But probably unelectable - they're only standing on the list, so won't get my vote.
The UKIP guy was absolutely hopeless. He waffled, he deviated from the question, and I don't think he has a chance. He even lacked the charm of Coburn...
The Tory boy is also unelectable, I'd say, particularly given the disdain most people hold for the Tory government in Westminster. He held his own, but basically toed the party line.
The Green candidate, Andy Wightman, lacked the charisma of their candidate last year. They're only standing on the list, too.
The Women's Equality Party candidate, Lee Chalmers, was interesting. Another list-only party, every question was answered through the lens of equality. Which of course is why they're there, but seemed a bit limiting. Still, she said she didn't know in answer to one or two questions, which was refreshing.
The SNP candidate, Ben MacPherson, seemed to try to be contrite, but had to toe the party line. He'll probably get the constituency vote, though.
The audience was curious, as it was last year. There was no heckling. I wanted to, but clearly felt restrained by the New Town respectability. For the first fifteen or twenty minutes there was no applause, either. We just sat politely listening. After that there was a smattering of applause, particularly for Labour, SNP and the Greens, but frankly no one seemed to be getting that excited.
Cracking Dissonance.
Mar. 26th, 2016 04:23 pmIn February I went to the Scottish LibDems' spring (and, more importantly, pre-Holyrood election) conference. There are always many debates; usually there is little contentious - the motions tends to be no-brainers, with little dissent - but there three or four this time which I found challenging, and I ended up voting against my natural position. It was uncomfortable, though I think I did the right thing.
First there was a debate about supporting communities in the highlands and islands. I actually missed must of the discussion, and I didn't actually vote because of that - it didn't feel right. The motion was that differentially high charges for utilities, like electricity, petrol, heating oil, deliveries and broadband, were hindering rural communities, and should be capped so that prices were the same throughout Scotland. It was passed more or less unanimously. What felt wrong, despite what I feel was a well deserved motion, was that it also felt illiberal: increased regulation, what might be anti-market behaviour, and a centralisation of control rather than devolving power. (Markets do however need regulating.)
This was heightened by a discussion for consultation (not a motion) over funding local finances. There were several options discussed: local income tax (a long term LibDem favourite); land value tax; property value tax; or an amended council tax. What became clear Is that there are significant problems with all of them. And what became clearer was that the current system of funding local services is broken. Council tax raises only 12% of local expenditure (figure here , most of the rest coming from a grant from the Scottish government funded by national taxation. In Scotland, the SNP government has frozen council tax since 2007. This has broken the link between council tax and local accountability.
What I took away from the discussion was that local councils needed to raise much more funding locally - someone suggested 50% would be a reasonable figure - using a range of different taxes, including perhaps income, land and property taxes, rather than just one. National taxes would be reduced accordingly.
The thing is that the cost of delivering services in rural areas is more than in cities, but rural populations are less able to pay. Supporting devolution of tax raising powers to fund local spending goes against the motion supporting unified charging across Scotland for utilities.
There was a similar dissonance raised in two strongly argued motions to amend the party's constitution to allow the selection of all-female shortlists for candidates. For all its talk of equality, the LibDems have a woeful record on diversity, and this motion would allow the party to tackle its gender bias. I supported it, particularly after two excellent speeches by Jo Swinson and Sophie Bridger, who argued that all attempts to reduce gender bias had, to date, failed, and the lack of LibDem MPs meant that there were fewer problems with incumbents.
The difficulty for me is that this goes against the perceived meritocracy (though clearly unless one believes men are better than women, that hasn't been a worry to date) and inhibits the ability of local parties to select the candidates they believe best for their constituency (albeit that these seem mostly to have been men in the past). The motions were passed, for a trial period.
(With a lesson in chairing a meeting: if someone demands a count if hands, give it to them. To fail to do just appears undemocratic, and the more you put it off, the stronger the demand will become.)
What caused most dissonance for me was the amendment to a motion, to remove the party's support for a moratorium on fracking. I'm anti fracking: it appears harmful to the environment, and I'm in favour of renewables. The amendment was based on the fact that this stance goes against evidence-based policy making, of which I'm in favour.
The 2014 Independent Expert Scientific Panel Report on Unconventional Oil And Gas found that there was nothing harmful with fracking per se, and the amendment reckoned that, given an adequate regulatory and planning environment, fracking should be permitted.
In addition, without onshore fracking in Scotland, we are simply exporting the problem to areas which may not have an adequate regulatory regime. Scotland currently imports shale gas from the USA (where, for instance, some of the problems attributed to fracking - such as contamination of the water table, leading to people being able to set fire to tap water - apparently stem from earlier contamination, not fracking).
Supporting evidence based policy making goes against the moratorium on fracking. It was not possible for me to support both. I came down in favour of the amendment, but it still rankles.
The amendment was passed.
(The decision was overturned by the party's policy committee (aka Willie Rennie, the party leader) on environmental grounds. The amendment was inconsistent with the party's policies to reduce CO2 emissions and promote renewable energy sources. That's fine by me, but there's been quite a row about this. Frankly, it's a political party, and allowing fracking is a vote loser. I'm quite happy with the ambiguity.)
This may not mean much to most of you, if any, but it's something I wanted to post, but not on FB.
Some of you may be aware that I occasionally write reviews of jazz CDs for the LondonJazz blog. (The platform it uses is rubbish and it doesn't search on author, so I can't directly link to my posts. WordPress works so much better.)
I do about one a week, and get to choose what to review, so generally I just get to listen to music I write and try to write intelligent things about it.
Jazz PRs are pretty hopeless, on the whole, and I was aware that there were several CDs that hadn't arrived, so I let the review co-ordinator know last week, with the result that I now have four CDs to review.
And by some really strange co-incidence, three of them involve Esbjorn Svennson, one of my favourite musicians who died a few years ago.
There's a (very good) live reinterpretation of his music, and the music of his band, est (Esbjorn Svennson Trio, but he decided it was a band rather than his trio early on, so it was always est).
And both former members of his the trio, bassist Dan Berglund and drummer Magnus Orstom, have new CDs coming out too.
It's all a bit weird.
Some of you may be aware that I occasionally write reviews of jazz CDs for the LondonJazz blog. (The platform it uses is rubbish and it doesn't search on author, so I can't directly link to my posts. WordPress works so much better.)
I do about one a week, and get to choose what to review, so generally I just get to listen to music I write and try to write intelligent things about it.
Jazz PRs are pretty hopeless, on the whole, and I was aware that there were several CDs that hadn't arrived, so I let the review co-ordinator know last week, with the result that I now have four CDs to review.
And by some really strange co-incidence, three of them involve Esbjorn Svennson, one of my favourite musicians who died a few years ago.
There's a (very good) live reinterpretation of his music, and the music of his band, est (Esbjorn Svennson Trio, but he decided it was a band rather than his trio early on, so it was always est).
And both former members of his the trio, bassist Dan Berglund and drummer Magnus Orstom, have new CDs coming out too.
It's all a bit weird.
A Nice Day For A Demo.
Mar. 21st, 2016 12:23 pmIt was the semi-annual "Scottish Defence League" (more commonly known as the Sunderland Defence League up here, since they have to be bussed in) protest in Edinburgh yesterday, which means it was also the semi-annual Edinburgh Against Racist SDL march, too.
It was a rather lovely afternoon. A crowd gathered outside the Assembly Rooms on the Mound, listened to a few speeches by local politicians (the SNP prospective candidate for somewhere was overtly political, the Green candidate was impressively unpolitical, reinforcing that it was a coalition of different people come together to protest, and the Labour councillor was just rubbish) and then marched a long way to oppose the SDL outside the City Chambers on the Royal Mile. (A distance of maybe 250 yards.)
When we got there, there were about four of the SDL gathered with union flags, a St George's cross (doh!) and some anti-refugee banners. A few more arrived - there were about fifteen of them at most, I'd say. I reckon there were a hundred or more on this side of the very large non-man's land established by the police, who probably outnumbered both sides put together.
Our chants of "There're many many more of us than you!" were once again accurate. Several of the other chants made me feel uncomfortable: shouting "scum!" at anyone dehumanises them, enables you to think of them as "other", which is exactly what racists do (and is how the Nazis thought about jews, homosexuals and other "degenerates", which allowed them to rationalise the Holocaust), and, for me, singing "build a bonfire, put the Tories on the top, put the racists in the middle and burn the fucking lot" frankly produced images of piles of bones from extermination camps. So no, I'm not going to sing your hateful songs: I'm not going to sink to the fascists' level.
I guess I could have come up with some chants of my own. Except I couldn't. I did think of shouting out "you're going home in the back of a taxi!" when there were only five of the them, but I didn't think it would catch on.
Aside from the more objectionable chants, the anti-racist crowd was really, really friendly. The weather was lovely, there really were more of us than them, which always feels good, there was a lot of good banter.
I just wish we could come up with some more positive chants!
It was a rather lovely afternoon. A crowd gathered outside the Assembly Rooms on the Mound, listened to a few speeches by local politicians (the SNP prospective candidate for somewhere was overtly political, the Green candidate was impressively unpolitical, reinforcing that it was a coalition of different people come together to protest, and the Labour councillor was just rubbish) and then marched a long way to oppose the SDL outside the City Chambers on the Royal Mile. (A distance of maybe 250 yards.)
When we got there, there were about four of the SDL gathered with union flags, a St George's cross (doh!) and some anti-refugee banners. A few more arrived - there were about fifteen of them at most, I'd say. I reckon there were a hundred or more on this side of the very large non-man's land established by the police, who probably outnumbered both sides put together.
Our chants of "There're many many more of us than you!" were once again accurate. Several of the other chants made me feel uncomfortable: shouting "scum!" at anyone dehumanises them, enables you to think of them as "other", which is exactly what racists do (and is how the Nazis thought about jews, homosexuals and other "degenerates", which allowed them to rationalise the Holocaust), and, for me, singing "build a bonfire, put the Tories on the top, put the racists in the middle and burn the fucking lot" frankly produced images of piles of bones from extermination camps. So no, I'm not going to sing your hateful songs: I'm not going to sink to the fascists' level.
I guess I could have come up with some chants of my own. Except I couldn't. I did think of shouting out "you're going home in the back of a taxi!" when there were only five of the them, but I didn't think it would catch on.
Aside from the more objectionable chants, the anti-racist crowd was really, really friendly. The weather was lovely, there really were more of us than them, which always feels good, there was a lot of good banter.
I just wish we could come up with some more positive chants!
A couple of weeks ago I learned that a friend from my teenage years had died. Pancreatic cancer. I don't think I had seen her for over 35 years (I may have seen her at the occasional wedding or celebration since, though I can't remember doing so), but she was a very good friend of one of my oldest friends, and I know several people who knew her.
I took it upon myself to call my friend in case he hadn't heard. Not that I thought he hadn't, but just in case. He needed to know, much more than me. I left a message on his voicemail. If he knew if her death, that wouldn't be a problem, and if he didn't, he'd rather know than not, however the message was delivered.
As it happens, he did know. But that's not point.
Leaving a message was hard. It reinforced how hard it is to talk about death. The words we use. Or don't: outside of the event, it's not something we really talk about. Unless we're watching detective shows on tv. (Then, it's not usually pancreatic cancer which is the cause of death.)
I was struck like many at the effect that the death of David Bowie had. I was never a huge fan of his music, but I found myself profoundly affected. Switching on radio, I heard the news, and then every tune for the next six hours had some correction to Bowie - either one of his songs, or something he worked on, or someone he influenced.
The thing is, every single one of his own tunes that was played held memories. (Well, not every single one; not from the new album, nor the one before that... But aside from those...!)
I remember Space Oddity from around the time of the moon landing in 1969. Starman makes me think of a family holiday in the south of France (as does Cat Stevens' Moon Shadow: I was reading Ursula LeGuin's A Wizard of Earthsea). I bought Aladdin Sane when it came out (though I didn't really understand it and swapped it a couple of years later with an LP a school friend had and didn't want. I remember I swapped Aladdin Sane - but I have no idea what I swapped it for).
I picked up Low, Station to Station and Heroes in the sales, not as they came out but a couple of years later, as much for Robert Fripp as David Bowie. A little later I bought Scary Monsters and, a few years after after that, Let's Dance.
Each of those records is very different; each intersects with my life at different stages. And each is intimately connected with their times: the memories associated with them are very strong.
And that is one reason I think I, and many others, found Bowie's death so affecting. Even those who weren't particularly into his music knew it, and it was woven into our memories of the times, whether we wanted it or not.
Bowie isn't the first rock star to die. I can remember when John Lennon was murdered, and, as with Bowie, for hours the radio was filled with his music. I can remember Elvis Presley dying too, though at that point I was into iconoclastic punk and the death of a middle of the road Lass Vegas sequined entertainer didn't feel out of place. (Love his 1950s stuff; hate his 1970s stuff.)
No Elvis, Beatles or Rolling Stones in 1977.
But whilst they may have been around as I was growing up, neither Lennon nor Elvis had the impact on me that Bowie did, partly because of his longevity and partly because of his variety. He was there the whole time.
And partly, I'm sure, because of social media. Twitter and Facebook were alive with Bowie-phernalia. People sharing memories, videos, articles. Articles about people sharing memories and videos. All the tweets and posts reinforced each other. It built up into a tsunami of grief. People my age grieving the loss of our youth.
Bowie had always been there. He seemed immortal. And then he was dead.
And it reminded us that we will all die, and, if you're a middle aged man, you've got maybe twenty or thirty years left to do all the things you want to in your life.
My friend wasn't the first of my contemporaries to die. One friend - we'd been in a band together - died in his twenties. (I can't remember the circumstances.) Another, a journalist, was blown up when the IRA blew up Harrod's just before Christmas 1983. A third, a contemporary rather than a friend, was killed by a lorry as he was cycling to his research lab; this was hard because I had turned down the project that was then offered to him - it very easily could have been me.
But this death is, I think, the first of my friends to die of natural causes after reaching middle age. She had a husband and kids. She was younger than my father at his death (who, at nearly 57, had died painfully young. At some point in the next twelve months, I will be older than my father was at his death. If I'm lucky).
And it is a savage reminder, again, of our impending mortality. This is of course not news. But somehow knowledge of my death didn't seem so pressing thirty years ago, or even ten years ago. Nonsense, of course - like my friends and acquaintance who died young (all in their twenties) a fatal accident could have happened at any time (and of course still could. Would that be preferable?).
For many years, I have bought wine en primeur - buying young vintage wine, free of duty, to be delivered at a future date when the wine is matured and ready to drink. A bit like wine futures, I guess. I currently have about twenty cases of claret, Rhone and port in store.
Last year, I had a health scare which, had the worst case scenario been borne out could have dramatically reduced my foreseeable life span.
Buying wine to drink in ten years time suddenly didn't seem such a good idea.
I took it upon myself to call my friend in case he hadn't heard. Not that I thought he hadn't, but just in case. He needed to know, much more than me. I left a message on his voicemail. If he knew if her death, that wouldn't be a problem, and if he didn't, he'd rather know than not, however the message was delivered.
As it happens, he did know. But that's not point.
Leaving a message was hard. It reinforced how hard it is to talk about death. The words we use. Or don't: outside of the event, it's not something we really talk about. Unless we're watching detective shows on tv. (Then, it's not usually pancreatic cancer which is the cause of death.)
* * *
I was struck like many at the effect that the death of David Bowie had. I was never a huge fan of his music, but I found myself profoundly affected. Switching on radio, I heard the news, and then every tune for the next six hours had some correction to Bowie - either one of his songs, or something he worked on, or someone he influenced.
The thing is, every single one of his own tunes that was played held memories. (Well, not every single one; not from the new album, nor the one before that... But aside from those...!)
I remember Space Oddity from around the time of the moon landing in 1969. Starman makes me think of a family holiday in the south of France (as does Cat Stevens' Moon Shadow: I was reading Ursula LeGuin's A Wizard of Earthsea). I bought Aladdin Sane when it came out (though I didn't really understand it and swapped it a couple of years later with an LP a school friend had and didn't want. I remember I swapped Aladdin Sane - but I have no idea what I swapped it for).
I picked up Low, Station to Station and Heroes in the sales, not as they came out but a couple of years later, as much for Robert Fripp as David Bowie. A little later I bought Scary Monsters and, a few years after after that, Let's Dance.
Each of those records is very different; each intersects with my life at different stages. And each is intimately connected with their times: the memories associated with them are very strong.
And that is one reason I think I, and many others, found Bowie's death so affecting. Even those who weren't particularly into his music knew it, and it was woven into our memories of the times, whether we wanted it or not.
Bowie isn't the first rock star to die. I can remember when John Lennon was murdered, and, as with Bowie, for hours the radio was filled with his music. I can remember Elvis Presley dying too, though at that point I was into iconoclastic punk and the death of a middle of the road Lass Vegas sequined entertainer didn't feel out of place. (Love his 1950s stuff; hate his 1970s stuff.)
No Elvis, Beatles or Rolling Stones in 1977.
But whilst they may have been around as I was growing up, neither Lennon nor Elvis had the impact on me that Bowie did, partly because of his longevity and partly because of his variety. He was there the whole time.
And partly, I'm sure, because of social media. Twitter and Facebook were alive with Bowie-phernalia. People sharing memories, videos, articles. Articles about people sharing memories and videos. All the tweets and posts reinforced each other. It built up into a tsunami of grief. People my age grieving the loss of our youth.
Bowie had always been there. He seemed immortal. And then he was dead.
And it reminded us that we will all die, and, if you're a middle aged man, you've got maybe twenty or thirty years left to do all the things you want to in your life.
* * *
My friend wasn't the first of my contemporaries to die. One friend - we'd been in a band together - died in his twenties. (I can't remember the circumstances.) Another, a journalist, was blown up when the IRA blew up Harrod's just before Christmas 1983. A third, a contemporary rather than a friend, was killed by a lorry as he was cycling to his research lab; this was hard because I had turned down the project that was then offered to him - it very easily could have been me.
But this death is, I think, the first of my friends to die of natural causes after reaching middle age. She had a husband and kids. She was younger than my father at his death (who, at nearly 57, had died painfully young. At some point in the next twelve months, I will be older than my father was at his death. If I'm lucky).
And it is a savage reminder, again, of our impending mortality. This is of course not news. But somehow knowledge of my death didn't seem so pressing thirty years ago, or even ten years ago. Nonsense, of course - like my friends and acquaintance who died young (all in their twenties) a fatal accident could have happened at any time (and of course still could. Would that be preferable?).
* * *
For many years, I have bought wine en primeur - buying young vintage wine, free of duty, to be delivered at a future date when the wine is matured and ready to drink. A bit like wine futures, I guess. I currently have about twenty cases of claret, Rhone and port in store.
Last year, I had a health scare which, had the worst case scenario been borne out could have dramatically reduced my foreseeable life span.
Buying wine to drink in ten years time suddenly didn't seem such a good idea.
This lunchtime's time-sink.
Reading that article about independent filmmakers, I recalled a couple of movies I saw in either the late 1980s or early 1990s (because I could remember the cinema I saw them in - the Everyman). I could remember vaguely the stories, and the main actress (the same in both). Not the name, nor the director.
I google "independent films 1990s". Lots of interesting links, nothing that clicks.
Ditto with "independent films 1980s".
I google "independent film lips", because the actress had amazing lips. Frankly, you don't want to go there. There are an awful lots of fan-sites about actresses' lips.
I have a hunch that the lead actor was in a film from the 1990s with one of the actresses in "Friends".
I google "actress friends". Lisa Kudrow.
Search her filmography. "The Opposite of Sex".
Look at the actors. Martin Donovan.
Search his filmography. Bingo: "Trust" (1990) and "The Unbelievable Truth" (1989).
They were directed by Hal Hartley. The actress was Adrienne Shelley. She died in 2006, the victim of a murder.
Reading that article about independent filmmakers, I recalled a couple of movies I saw in either the late 1980s or early 1990s (because I could remember the cinema I saw them in - the Everyman). I could remember vaguely the stories, and the main actress (the same in both). Not the name, nor the director.
I google "independent films 1990s". Lots of interesting links, nothing that clicks.
Ditto with "independent films 1980s".
I google "independent film lips", because the actress had amazing lips. Frankly, you don't want to go there. There are an awful lots of fan-sites about actresses' lips.
I have a hunch that the lead actor was in a film from the 1990s with one of the actresses in "Friends".
I google "actress friends". Lisa Kudrow.
Search her filmography. "The Opposite of Sex".
Look at the actors. Martin Donovan.
Search his filmography. Bingo: "Trust" (1990) and "The Unbelievable Truth" (1989).
They were directed by Hal Hartley. The actress was Adrienne Shelley. She died in 2006, the victim of a murder.
The Party Line.
Jan. 15th, 2016 05:09 pmI'm going to a party on Saturday, which I have been looking forward to four months. It should be great fun, I'm expecting there to be lots of excellent people, and it is great to have a party to look forward to in the post-Christmas-post-Hogmanay lull.
But in other ways, it could be a bit weird. It is the party that crosses the streams. But not just two streams, mind. I reckon that there will be people there from at least five different aspects of my life, going back 32 years. Which given that I hadn't met either of the hosts until about 2000 is pretty good going.
I met one of the hosts at work. So there will probably be a whole load of people I used to work with. Where I met my ex. Who introduced me to LJ, where I made a whole load of friends online, some of whom will also be there. (Two of whom are staying with me for the weekend.)
One of the hosts sings in a choir, with an old friend (whom I also went out with for a few months. In 1983).
The host also run a dialogue group that I go to, so I imagine several of them will be there too. Including an ex of my ex.
I had expected to introduce my friends Julie and Andrew to my friends Andrew and Julie, at which point the goppelgangers would merge in a cataclysm of annihilating energy, destroying the known universe. Unfortunately I believe that both Julie and Andrew and Andrew and Julie have split up. I could still introduce Julie to Andrew, which might be able to save everyone changing their address books.
Still I'm looking forward to the weekend. At the very least, it'll be interesting.
Oh, and kilts.
But in other ways, it could be a bit weird. It is the party that crosses the streams. But not just two streams, mind. I reckon that there will be people there from at least five different aspects of my life, going back 32 years. Which given that I hadn't met either of the hosts until about 2000 is pretty good going.
I met one of the hosts at work. So there will probably be a whole load of people I used to work with. Where I met my ex. Who introduced me to LJ, where I made a whole load of friends online, some of whom will also be there. (Two of whom are staying with me for the weekend.)
One of the hosts sings in a choir, with an old friend (whom I also went out with for a few months. In 1983).
The host also run a dialogue group that I go to, so I imagine several of them will be there too. Including an ex of my ex.
I had expected to introduce my friends Julie and Andrew to my friends Andrew and Julie, at which point the goppelgangers would merge in a cataclysm of annihilating energy, destroying the known universe. Unfortunately I believe that both Julie and Andrew and Andrew and Julie have split up. I could still introduce Julie to Andrew, which might be able to save everyone changing their address books.
Still I'm looking forward to the weekend. At the very least, it'll be interesting.
Oh, and kilts.
I learned something new today.
There's such a thing on Facebook as secret groups. I knew there were private groups, where you had to be accepted by the admin to join. But I'd never come across a secret group before. Which just proves how secret it is.
A friend of mine added me to a secret group. It has nearly 2,000 members which, let's face it, isn't _that_ secret.
And this isn't one that the security services will be losing too much sleep over, though they may well be tracking it.
Because it is a cat appreciation page. Because there aren't enough cats on the internet, there're now _secret cats_ on the internet.
Apparently I'm late to this party (though being secret, I didn't realise this until now). Lots of my friends are already secret cat appreciation members already. (You know who you are! It's not that much of a secret that some of you like cats...)
Now I suppose I shall be ostracised. Because the first rule of secret cat appreciation group is...
"The Danish Girl".
Jan. 5th, 2016 10:51 pmI went to see The Danish Girl today. It is a remarkable film, though not necessarily an easy one.
The performances were remarkable. Eddie Redmayne has been getting all the press, but I reckoned Alicia Vikander was equally impressive.
I actually had a bit of a problem with Redmayne - because his performance in The Theory of Everything was just so good. And there were moments in The Danish Girl where I lost the character - and I saw instead Stephen Hawking!
But Redmayne was remarkable in the film too. In some ways, it as a small film - a total of six speaking parts, I reckon - but full of big emotions. I'm not sure I entirely believed in the way they behaved - despite being set in the 1920s, it dealt with issues that are still very current, and it as hard not to bring a 21st century sensibility to the film.
But that's not the film's fault. It was a very thoughtful, well paced to and brave film. And it looked beautiful.
White Line Fever.
Dec. 29th, 2015 09:51 pmI finally cracked. I decided I had to play the first Motorhead LP, which I bought when it came out in 1977 when I was a long haired heavy metal fan.
I had seen Motorhead play several times, including their first London gig, at the Roundhouse (where they managed to clear the auditorium apart from six people, of which I was one. They were very loud). I remember the LP's black sleeve with the snarling logo.
Except I can't find it. This isn't wholly surprising, since I doubt I have played it since 1980. But I have most of my vinyl from back then. It could be that my brother has it, or it could be I lent it to someone (though I doubt that), or maybe I have just lost it.
Still, I did find the first single, Leavin Here/White Line Fever. I wasn't going to play it, because I didn't remember it being very good, but curiosity got the better of me. See, it's MH001.
It was ok. I remember White Line Fever - I knew the riff and I could even remember some of the words - though Leavin Here, an old rock and roll standard (Holland/Dozier/Holland) left me a bit cold.
Curiously, the label on the disc says "Motor Head", two words, though the cover has the concatenated version.
The words of White Line Fever include "...it's a slow death". I guess it took him nearly forty years.
I went to visit a friend in the Royal Infirmary this afternoon.
I had not been there before; it is a big place.
I walked there, through the New Town and Old Town, and then along the Innocent Railway and cycle paths beside Craigmillar Castle Road as far as the hospital. Over four and a half miles in a little over an hour.
I walked back in the dark. The paths were lit, but it was still slightly eerie outside of the pools of light.
Much to my surprise, the Innocent Railway wasn't lit. I have no idea why some cycle paths are lit and others not, particularly since the Innocent Railway was much busier than the paths to the south.
All the bikes that passed were very will lit, though I was slightly concerned that an unlit bike might not see me (also unlit) in the dark.
Aside from the cyclists, there was sufficient light reflected from the clouds to walk by. It was rather nice walking the the semi-darkness, something I hadn't really done before. At least, but without a torch.
It was rather surprising, and a bit of a relief, to get to the long, well lit tunnel; and ironic that, underground, there was more light than outside.
"Under the Skin".
Nov. 29th, 2015 08:05 pmI've just been to a special showing of the film Under the Skin, which included a Q&A with Michel Faber, the author of the book on which the film was based.
The film was as strange and disturbing as the book (which, fifteen years on, still makes me shudder as I drive up the A9, where much of the book is set).
The movie is moved to Glasgow, and features Scarlett Johansson. I think if I hadn't read the book, I wouldn't have had a clue what was going on.
Johansson was amazing, but frankly the film was twice as long as it needed to be. There were lots of fairly repetitive bits, and things which didn't quite hold together for me.
One other thing about the movie. Scarlett Johansson is very beautiful. And would never have thought it possible that she could put one of sex. But the movie manages it.
But a very interesting film, nonetheless.
One of the strangest things was finding myself standing next to Michel Faber in the gents after the film and before the Q&A.
We had a brief conversation, which was basically me telling him how powerful I had found found the book, and him expressing gratitude.
Climate March.
Nov. 28th, 2015 03:08 pmI went in the Climate March, in the rain. I got to the Meadows late, and the March had started, so I stayed where I was and let the March catch me up.
Surprisingly, my friends saw me standing, and we then marched down to Princes St Gardens.
It was, frankly, a huge march - at least by Edinburgh standards. Several thousand people.
It was a very friendly crowd, lots of smiling faces.
I can't help feeling slightly cynical about it, though. I have been on several climate marches - notably ahead of the Copenhagen summit in 2009, but also last year and before - and I'm not sure what we've accomplished.
On the other hand, it is much better to go on a march than not, because climate change isn't going away, and one must make one's voice heard however one can.
I was chatting with one of the march's organisers, a friend of a friend, who is going over to Paris as a delegate at the forthcoming climate summit, and who was also at Copenhagen. He sees today's march as a way of influencing politicians and the civil servants (who actually do the negotiating) ahead of the talks. And it's his job to influence them during the negotiations next week.
We can only wish them all luck!
Surprisingly, my friends saw me standing, and we then marched down to Princes St Gardens.
It was, frankly, a huge march - at least by Edinburgh standards. Several thousand people.
It was a very friendly crowd, lots of smiling faces.
I can't help feeling slightly cynical about it, though. I have been on several climate marches - notably ahead of the Copenhagen summit in 2009, but also last year and before - and I'm not sure what we've accomplished.
On the other hand, it is much better to go on a march than not, because climate change isn't going away, and one must make one's voice heard however one can.
I was chatting with one of the march's organisers, a friend of a friend, who is going over to Paris as a delegate at the forthcoming climate summit, and who was also at Copenhagen. He sees today's march as a way of influencing politicians and the civil servants (who actually do the negotiating) ahead of the talks. And it's his job to influence them during the negotiations next week.
We can only wish them all luck!
