Morning Music

 As some will know, I spend inordinate hours with BBC Radio 3 on, in this room, that room, every room.

 ... Earlier in life I had a great time listening to 'pop' music, my first 45 (as far as I can remember) being Adam Faith's 'What Do You Want' (1959) which replaced my mother's 78 rpm choice of the Vienna Boys Choir and 'The Happy Wanderer', that had not endeared me to the Scouts or any other boys' organisations! I did dive into strange genres, like Hawaiian guitar, but was mainly preoccupied with American blues and folk before the 'English Invasion' and much of that is due to my parents interests in Woody Guthrie and Paul Robeson (and ... The Laughing Policeman!) as well as an older brother's interest in modern American folk (The Weavers et al.)  Then it was onto Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones and on, and on ... until the Stiff Road Tour and The Stranglers at the Roundhouse in '77 on early visits back from Germany.

In Germany we mainly saw Americans as we lived near Frankfurt in the 'US Sector' (Bowie was an exception, but that was his 'Berlin' years) and interest in the 'pop' world disappeared with our return to the UK in the mid-80's when classical and world music became ascendent. There were keys through odd things into other genres - 'Das Boot', which we saw as a serial on German TV, led to Rina Ketty and 'J'Attendrai' and that back to the European popular music of the Edwardian era onwards to WW2, a favourite being Fréhel's 'Où est-il donc?' - a sentimental song about how an immigrant to the US misses the working class areas of Paris with end of the Belle Epoque.

 Anyway, enough of this prattle. The essence is that, although I did accidentally hear Taylor Swift the other month, I have no interest in today's 'pop', there's too much going on elsewhere and R3 constantly surprises me, as it did this morning with Yo-Yo Ma, Stuart Duncan, Edgar Meyer and Chris Thile producing a brilliant mix of classical through to blue grass mastery. It was a great way to start a Monday.

Now it's Friday ... that was the week that was, wherever it went!!! A highlight for this week was Art on Tuesday morning. I am not sleeping well and was awake most of Monday night so I had to drag the enthusiasm out of my tired body. I decided to have a go at an Albanian sunset: It turned out very well but I'm not going to place a scan of it side by side with the photo as the scan came out very contrasty and lost consideable subtlety (that's my excuse anyway).

Sleep continues to be a problem and rather than try and fight it, I stayed up until about 2am watching films every evening (including pt 2 of Ken Burns' prog on the American Buffalo) and when I still couldn't sleep, saw the world news up to 6am. Sleep then came in two hour bites ... not good.

I spent time on Wednesday on preliminary booking for a next break. I had looked at NT properties in Cornwall and in the North, but the prices are now a bit high, having spent the best part of £10K on Pauline's flat, so I've booked a cottage in W Ireland for a week in June at 1/3 the price of Cornwall! It's well-placed for a walk up Croagh Patrick, so if I succeed in doing that, I'll have visited the shrines of both patron and matron saints of Ireland in 2026 ... not bad for a heathen! But that is to come.

I've two more weeks on eye drops - just steroids now and then I should be getting new glasses. It seems crazy, but life is almost on hold until then. Visually, everyday life is different and will only be settled once my optometrist has guided me to the best solutions for my new sight! But, as with the breaks, I'm also planning to do things here. Once March is here, a skip should arrive so that I can start clearing the outbuildings here - a trigger, perhaps, for downsizing. Elsewhere, historical family matters have occupied my emails, daily!

I'm now up to Friday evening and there's not much more to say, so, until next time ... Ciao! 

Following discussion about Benwee Head - here's a google earth image -

  

 

Time

I'm no politician and I know enough about history to know it repeats itself. It is curious that in days around this year's Holocaust Memorial Day we have things happening in the 'Land of the Free' that resonate, however slightly, with 1930's fascism. 

My mother taught me 'This Land Is Your Land' when I was young. It is a considered song, probably written over some time. In today's world, time is as precious as gold, so as rough as it is, here's a ballad for today.

 

Strange Days, or Bookends With Nikki

Today, a friend took me to my eye surgery – the second cataract operation, except that these operations are far more. I’m 77 and have been wearing spectacles since I was 8 … some may remember those round specs (Harry Potter style) with bendable wire earpieces … but since my first op back in November, I’ve been without glasses. It’s been tricky at times as the difference between my fixed and unfixed eyes was considerable, but I managed to drive and read etc. Today, the world changed as the second eye was done – no near vision anymore! In about 5 weeks I’ll be seeing my optician to get what I need for the next few years.

If it wasn’t for Amazon and cheap reading glasses I couldn’t write this. I have to take one of two types of eye drops, but without those glasses I wouldn’t be able to tell which from which! Nobody tells you about that.

But that’s not really the story. This is just another event in a backdrop of change, the relatively recent loss of my life partner, the earlier loss of another love, living alone, getter really old and negotiating this newer, if temporary, vision.

All is a continuum of discombobulation.So, tonight, wandering around like an older person who shouldn’t, I managed, without burning myself or setting teacloths alight, to cook myself salmon with potatoes and caramelised endives … the sort of cooking I’d almost abandoned and which tonight I could barely see! 

And then it was to find something to watch on TV. Almost by chance I came across ‘The Zone of Interest’ a film I found absorbing, having lived for eight years in Germany, but that’s yet another story. What jumped out was a mention of ‘Lebensraum’ and its immediate connection in my head to what I had recently heard of on Radio 3 about America’s ‘Manifest Destiny’ and the Monroe Doctrine. But I leave consideration of current evidence of political psychopathy to others.

Turning to the here and now, I switched to playing youtube while I loaded the dishwasher … Voices of Music’s version of Uccellini’s La Bergamasca always brightens my mood, but it is short and what followed, uncalled for, were reminiscences of those past losses – John Tams ‘Will I See Thee More’, Grieg’s ‘Wedding Day at Trollhaugen’ and finally Kate Wolf’s ‘An Unfinished Life’. Curiously, I found youtube’s selection was quite calming and cathartic; these are pieces of the never-ending closure of a chapter in my life. Long may they remain and keep me grounded in the love I have been granted in life. Then it was onto Max Richter’s ‘On The Nature of Daylight, Extended’ which is a good bookend to that chapter.

Frantic work since I returned from Ireland is at an end and I know I can rest at home for a few days and tomorrow will be the day that I know whether the second op has worked as I hope it has. I do have some things that I might write about, partly triggered by another programme I watched - The Secret Of Me – but for now I’ll bookend this ramble. This morning started with Radio 3 and the Adagietto from Mahler’s 5^th. I’ll finish now with Mahler’s: Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen from the Rückert Lieder, which I always used to listen to as I drifted off to sleep many, many years ago.

Just in case the above comes over as a bit self-indulgent, I haven't forgotten it's Burns Night tonight. So, here's Ae Fond Kiss to anyone reading this.

Busy, Busy, Busy ...

Busy, Busy, Busy …

To be honest, I can’t quite remember what I’ve been up to and when, mainly as I haven’t had to time to sit down and think about it! I did spend nearly 3 weeks with my great friends Pamela and Mary over Christmas and the New Year in Ireland and I somehow got back here early evening of the 9^th January. An update on that trip will emerge in good time, but even in Ireland I was in touch with kitchen fitters who having been due to start at Pauline’s flat on the 19^th wanted to change that to the 12^th!  So, back in time to use stuff in the freezer (hoping the power had only been off because of Storm Goretti … but I’m alive to tell the tale, so I guess I was right!) and the washing machine. Then I had to meet relatives at the flat who will be using it once the kitchen is renewed. Back home for more washing and a little fresh food before Tuesday and onto a new venue-based art course. At home, it was rain, rain, rain and my only usable house door started sticking badly… groan, I have my second cataract op coming up and I’m not then meant to be doing anything forceful, so once the rain stopped (today!!!) I managed to sort it out. I could go on, but it’s quite boring – ordering food for after my op, choosing kitchen white goods and bathroom tiles for the flat and me getting generally fed up with having one eye with superb long distance bluish vision (but rubbish within 4 ft) and the other having a yellowish tint and nothing worth trying to look at beyond 4 ft. It does get very tiring. And wondering if that squirrel is building a drey right above my walnut tree ... Come Saturday that should all change ... to a week of night-time eye patching and a month of steroid eye drops!

In the meanwhile, I have been able to get a new skirt – black cotton midi, and two tops. I do also have a trouser suit, but the jacket has to go back as while the detachable label said one thing, the attached label said another (by a difference of 10 sizes!!!) But, notwithstanding those buys, the appearance of Nikki will probably remain on hold until my eyes start working together … it could be a week, it could be a month, it could be until I’ve got back to my opticians in about 8 weeks and have new glasses.

 I’m looking forward to March when the flat shouldn’t be a worry for me and my eyes will be good for a few years.

Now to try and remember Ireland!

Solstice Preparations

Days are passing and the Winter Solstice and (eek!) my birthday approaches. By then I'll be back in Ireland with Pamela and M for Christmas and the New Year, so aside of everything else that is happening, I'm getting my Christmas clothes together, views of which will have to wait until I'm over there. I can say it'll be a green Christmas - of sequins and velvet for going out. I've also found an old (20+ years) brown dress that I may also take as my diet has been working (and continues).

Having made what I thought were 'au courant' decisions, I then read that tartan is 'in' this year, with the Grauniad reviewer dismissing sequins (oh, dear!) and illustrating a tartan dress from Joanie, one of my quirky dress suppliers. I wasn't going to go mad, but remembered I had a Joanie tartan dress from some years ago. It didn't take long to find it ... it doesn't have the frilly shoulders that seem to have been popular over the last coupe of years, but it's tartan! It did need 'freshening up' and so I spent a while washing and ironing it which wasn't that easy as, apart from the sleeves, it's fully cotton lined.

All these preps are tricky at the moment with one good eye and one wonky eye. It is quite strange, waking up in the morning and reaching for spectacles that aren't there. It's two weeks since the op that generated my surreal movie thoughts. Today, I finish the antibiotic+steroid  eyedrops and move onto two weeks of just steroid eyedrops. I was driving after five days, once my brain had  compensated sufficiently for the changes in eyesight, which is just as well, given the prospect of the drive to Holyhead in a couple of weeks and the stuff I have to do in between at Pauline's flat.

It has taken a long, long time to rid Pauline's flat of 20+ years of hoarding, but now it's in a state that refurbishment can be carried out which needs to be done before letting it out to family early next year, so choices of things like worktops, flooring etc. have to be made and ordered for fitting in January.

That'll be the time my other eye is done so it'll be at least February before I get new glasses. Until then I won't be wearing new prescription glasses and have to consider what I need to do to appear reasonable for photos (the increasing availability of large paper sacks may help!) That may sound odd, but glasses have helped disguise a lot of issues - ageing skin, the effects of  BCC affecting my facial symmetry, as well as dermatitis problems affecting my face and eyelids! That's not even mentioning the fact that my eyebrows are now white! I could be disparaging about getting old, but hey! what's the alternative?

A Couple of Old Memories

 

 Un Chien Andalou

 It was the 1970's. I lived in North London, then 'Somewhere in Germany' (actually Offenbach aM) with stays at my brother's near Paddington, sometimes a month at a time, when I was studying German at the Goethe Institut. I used to see at least two films a week while in London  - West End releases and arthouse. Arthouse pics remain the ingrained memory - the Phoenix in East Finchley, The Everyman in Hampstead and the Paris Pullman in Fulham were regular haunts. Annoyingly, I can't remember which it was that I saw Abel Gance's Napoleon at. (I think it was the P-P). It was an all-nighter, starting at midnight.

Before then I'd been seeing plenty of films from around the world (Kurosawa was a favourite) ... and also later, but that was when I was settled back in Germany and Fassbinder seemed to be on TV or at the Kino the whole time. His Querelle was, for me, a time machine back to my teens when I consumed Genet, Camus and other risque continental authors as the best of Waugh and Isherwood were yet to be served at my table. Jean Paul Gaultier's perfume company with its not-so-subtle hint back to Querelle keeps reminding me in its adverts of  the dualism in sexuality ... not hetero and homo, but technicolor and grey. That could lead into a comment on society and sex, but not now (and probably not ever) ... now is about arthouse and the eye-opening scene of  Luis Buñuel's 'Un Chien Andalou' ... an experience that I underwent in my head at the weekend when I had a cataract operation under local anaesthetic. The surgeon skilfully sliced something (I wasn't looking - I was blinded by the light) and then gently, but with some sense of  a road drill, broke up my natural lens, sucked it out very gently (think Hannibal Lecter and liver) before 'inserting' a replacement lens - it was a bit of a squeeze but there was a satisfying imagined 'plop' as it 'unfolded' followed by some microscopic manouvering by surgical instruments, all courtesy of Zeiss and the NHS! Within a day, the sight in one eye has been returned to that of my youth. The other remains that of a decrepit old geezer, but hopefully not for long. Of course, there's post-op stuff to do for a month, but this is the NHS (even if it has sub-contracted to a private clinic) excelling.

Mr Tambourine Man

I was never a real 'biker' even if I went to the 'Busy Bee'and even, once, 'The Ace'' ... I rode a Honda 90, but I wore a donkey jacket ... ho, hum (cue the Bonzos)!

My parents were quite well off and we had a holiday place on the Oxford plain, north of the Chiltern Hills (no, not Chequers!) I used to escape there from London at weekends with friends and, for me, escape was needed - I'd been trying to find myself, seemingly throughout my early life, but without luck. Perhaps it was that which drew me to American protest folk music. Anyway, after all the years all I seem to recall is one weekend we gathered there, drinking beer and smoking cigs, but nothing stronger, all through the night, listening to loud music incessantly. I had a headcold. Come the Summer's dawn with bad nasal congestion, I needed to clear my sinuses, if not my head. I climbed on my bike and headed down the local roads at speeds that max'd the 90 (not much, but well in excess of safe riding on windy country lanes) and, of course, I wasn't wearing a helmet. I survived to be writing this, but imprinted on my visual memory of that ride was Dylan's Mr Tambourine Man ... except ... it was The Byrds version!

Was I any wiser afterwards? Not really, but my sinuses were clear!

Riding, I came very close to injury on a couple of occasions - once flying over the back of a car that pulled out on me - that time I was wearing a helmet and it may well have saved my life. It left me with a wee scar on my upper lip where I kissed the tarmac. Barbara used to complain about the scar when she tried applying lipstick! As soon as I could get four wheels, the bike was gone.

I can still draw up the visual memory of that dawn country ride and 'hear' Mr Tambourine Man, although today it is Dylan's voice. 

Still Problems Commenting

 Just to add the problems of commenting on Blogger remain - Google throws me out every time I want to comment ...  and I've been a bit too busy with life to spend time on sorting the issue out (it's bad enough fighting off Windows and Copilot and the stupid Cloud).

 

 

 

An Evening With KD Lang

 Where I'm staying on Skye, there is no television and the radio reception is poor. I did sneak onto BBC iPlayer to watch 'Have I Got News For You' which was hilarious, if only for its testicular coverage! I was a little concerned, however, that within two days, Xbox had an advert stating 'You Need a TV Licence' ... something I'd never seen before ... Big Brother at work? 

Anyway, I knew I'd need some music so I brought along some new CDs as well as a case of old home-brewed music. And tonight, it's KD Night. Well, 'Drag' night, as that's all of KD that's in my case!

I think it was in 2003 that Barbara introduced me to KD and 'Drag'. At first I thought she was having a laugh, but then when I listened I was knocked out by KD's vocals ... and 'Drag' referred to cigarette smoking! There are some beautiful songs on the album.

Barbara wanted to see KD live, and having just had a life-threatening health problem (and subsequent major abdo op) I fixed with her that we would go up to see her at the Hammersmith Apollo, staying overnight at Chiswick. It must have been late November 2004 and I was one of a very few males at the Apollo ... it was at the height of her lesbian fans activity ... knickers thrown on the stage etc. The concert was all we expected and more. The only problem with the trip was that Barbara had an appointment at the hospital the next day and the specialist nurse who saw her immediately had her admitted. Barbara didn't mind - she said she could die happy. She didn't, and we then saw KD again in Brighton some years later.

 As for me now, on Skye, the weather's been kind the last couple of days, but I haven't been doing too much strenuous walking, concentrating more on my diet, following the age-old recipe for losing weight ... don't eat so much, so I've been on a Nikki diet - porridge + bilberry jam in the morning with OJ, cereal bar at lunch and maybe something light in the evening. No alcohol and very little coffee ... it'll be interesting to see what my scales show when I get home. 

Near where I'm staying ... the tip of Skye with the Outer Hebrides in the distance:

Rubha Hunish

 

 

Strike While the Iron is Hot - another blog entry!

After a long but pleasant drive from the Loch Lomond Premier Inn, I've finally made it ... to almost the northern tip of Skye. Contrary to the weather forecast before I left, it was dry and by the time I was at Glen Coe there was a hazy sun which grew stronger as the day wore on.

I recognised some of where I was as back in 1992 I was on a field trip to Rum and discussing issues of sustainable tourism ... Tyndrum is more than ever the mini highland equivalent of a 'kiss-me-quick' south coast resort, but it is somewhere holidaymakers want.

Glen Coe was as impressive as ever - I did see an Aston Martin coming the other way, but it wasn't a DB4, so it couldn't have been James Bond. Every layby was full of vehicles, even at 11.30 with people enjoying the fine weather. Speaking of weather, the results of Storm Amy were to be seen with fallen trees and temporary traffic lights along most roads.

Uig Tower

I also remembered Morrison's in Fort William, but not how to get to it and I needed supplies! With the good weather, I dug out my camera and at Uig captured what seemed at first to be a Martello Tower, but was a folly built by one of the notorious 19th C landlords, Major William Fraser, where his Factor would collect rents from his tenants (the ones not subject to Highland Clearance). It is now known as Uig Tower. So I have a certain satisfaction knowing that while his folly, abandoned and dangerous, has just a 'B' historic listing, my croft, built about 1880, has an 'A' listing! Posh, or what? It's tiny but has WiFi.

My rental property

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With dusk descending over the Outer Hebrides, I'm pleased I came, even if the drive (~750 miles) was rather long.

Another Day in The Life ...

Well, after months of not doing much in terms of expressing Nikki, or even responding to friends’ pictures and blogs, here I am in a Premier Inn at 7pm in mid-Scotland, still not doing much. I’ve eaten dinner and left the restaurant to the families on their half-term breaks.

I’m on my way to Skye to have a wander around the landscape and archaeology without doing any ‘too’ serious walking – I’m not fit enough yet and have been reading this week about a German walker, still lost on Skye after eight days, and another guy who recently struggled through bad conditions on the Cape Wrath Trail for eight days before being rescued, so I’m not taking any chances.

I could have been in Athens now as I had an invite to commemoration ceremony (some wartime stuff), but notice was short and the croft is paid for. I'm sure Athens would be warmer than this Premier Inn!!! 

Will Nikki appear? I hope so, she's packed and I hope this trip will help me leave what I started to describe in an abandoned piece of writing as limbo … referencing being ‘neither here nor there’.

When I get back I’ll be having the first of two cataract ops. The second will be after my annual Christmas trip to Dundalk.

All being well, I’ll post an update in a few days.

Flying The Flag

 A Short Post -

There was a lot of flag waving yesterday on the streets of London. As Government Minister Peter Kyle pointed out today, it demonstrated free speech was alive and well.

I was waving a metaphorical flag myself.

Along with others, I was joining in the flag-waving that celebrated heritage, culture, good humour and inclusiveness - a true reflection of the United Kingdom. Even that pariah of the right, the EU flag, was in good numbers.

At the end of the evening I was pleased that I had ignored the 'news' elsewhere and watched the ‘Last Night of the Proms’ … it was the right place to be flag-waving.