2018, not all bad

SOME BEST BITS

2018 - what was that all about, eh?  Probably not a year that history will look back on kindly.  The orange man-baby stayed in the White House, his behaviour becoming ever more bizarre and alarming.  At least the US has a constitution that manages to contain the worst excesses of the wannabe dictator, but has Brazil?  The election of a brutal, homophobic misogynist takes the Trump trend a dangerous step forward.  Meanwhile the UK does it's best to compete with America as leading international laughing stock as the farce of brexit continued to display the embarrassing incompetence of UKGov and aggressive vacuity of the brexshiteers.  Scotland remains in the grip of a regime for which it did not vote and dismisses every issue it raises, the union feels more broken by the day.  And if the far right is now a major threat to world stability it still takes place to the potential catastrophe of climate change - which brings us right back to the culpability of that corrupt crook in Washington....

So I'm going to indulge myself and look back at some personal highlight from a year that saw me go to 38 music gigs, 29 dramas or musicals, 27 comedy shows, 27 films on the big screen, and 1 poetry evening.  I like to keep busy.  And Edinburgh does insist on running all these festivals!  Oh, and I managed to get through 54 books.  So my way of having a more cheerful look at the recent 365 day period is to think back on what were my highlights in all that entertainment.  And maybe a couple of disappointments.

Starting with best new music discovery.  That one doesn't take a second's thought because The Kinnaris Quintet, first seen in February and again in November, could count me as a fan from their opening number.  Their first album, Free One, is superb and has had many plays Chez Crawford, they have stage presence to back up the musicianship and imagination of their arrangements, and a couple of brief chats suggest they're pretty nice people as well.  More in 2019 please.

Best play wasn't nearly as obvious, with some excellent candidates like McGonagall's Chronicles, Ken, Infinita and the surprising Sob Story.  But I'll go for Still Alice not just for the quality of the performances and the staging, but for tackling such a tricky subject so well.

My favourite film was one of only two documentaries I went to see.  But Nae Paseran! has characters, storyline, excitement, humour and pathos to match any drama, as well as an important political message.  Going back to my opening paragraph, this film is a powerful reminder than even small actions can have big consequences in the fight against the rise of neofascism.

I'd like to have chosen someone new to me for my favourite comedy act, but none really stand out in my memory.  Honourable mention to the very entertaining Iain F M Smith who I'd happily go to see again, but he's perhaps more storyteller than actual comedian.  So I'll go for the man who made me laugh like no other all year, the surreal ragdoll that is Dylan Moran.  I'll add a mention for two local acts that rival, when measured in chuckles, giggles and guffaws, the best the Fringe has to offer - Stu and Garry and Morrison/Sutherland that goes by the name of Fanny's Ahoy!.  Who needs the big names?

It's become our habit to leave the final day of the Fringe free of bookings, and go up to the Half Price Hut to choose a couple of random shows.  We ended with a musical called Trump'd which, sadly, was probably the biggest disappointment of our August.  But that was trumped by the most enjoyable surprising discovery of the year, Where the Hell is Bernard? performed by Haste Theatre Group.  Weird and wonderful and utterly memorable.  Still makes me laugh when I think of them going down the "escalator"....

My favourite read was by far the oldest text I tackled this year.  You know those books you buy and they go on the bookshelves waiting (and waiting and waiting) until the moment you feel ready to tackle them?  So it was with Don Quixote.  As with so many books pre-twentieth century it means persevering through the first thirty to fifty pages while your head adjusts to the author's mindset and language.  Once over that hump you're in a different world, surely a major objective in reading fiction.  The society described might be very different to our own, but the frailties, cruelties, kindnesses and love of humans are very familiar.  Plus it's laugh out loud funny at times.

Some oddities to end on.  Biggest disappointment of the year was the demise of my beloved Edinburgh Capitals.  No more hockey, for the moment, and much as I'm enjoying discovering the pleasures of rugby spectating it's still no real substitute for what was lost.

Best personal achievement was completing the fifteen and half miles of Kiltwalk  in what I felt was a respectable time for my advancing years.  Not just for managing the course, but the pleasures I got from the practice walks I went on and wearing a kilt after so many decades.

I'll end on the most special surprise of the year.  Going to see that lovely, lovely man Henry Normal and finding he'd written a poem for our 21st wedding anniversary.

Well done 2018.  There's always joy out there to be found, and sometimes it's in as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.  In a skirt.

What is this strange thing called Success?

WINNING ISN'T EVERYTHING

As I wrote a couple of months ago, I've started going to spectate at Edinburgh Rugby home games.  After several years spent watching in the rink next door the comparisons are becoming interesting.  I've only been to four games so far, but the most striking differences become obvious quickly.

Compared to hockey the oval ball game feels much slower, the action more distant and less inherently skilful (they don't have to do all that they do perched on narrow blades across a slippery surface, do they?).  And while the Fridge of Dreams was a chilly place to sit for a few hours it was, at least, consistently chilly, and dry, so you knew exactly what to dress for.  Finally I miss the "Cheers" aspect of going to the rink, it did feel like a place "where everybody knows your name".

But then there are the pros too.  I'm watching a much higher level of the sport than I got to see next door, with many of the players on the pitch likely to be heading for Japan in September/October, when the World Cup takes place.  The whole operation is so much more professional, so much more twenty first century, from the big TV screens to the PA that's so clear you can actually make out what's being said.  And five, six, seven thousand people make a lot more noise than five, six, seven hundred.  (Even if the chants are nowhere near as entertaining....)

But the biggest difference of all is a simple one, and still takes the most getting used to.  Edinburgh Rugby win matches.  Regularly.  Supporting Caps was never like this.  I could almost wish I get to see them lose just to have that old feeling back again.  But only almost.