Don't roll out the red carpet please

I COULD DO THAT

The Edinburgh International Film Festival is now underway and I'm looking forward to spending much of the next week or so stuck inside a cinema. At time of writing I've only seen two so it's early days in the marathon, but it's already been enjoyable.

Watching movies as part of festival is a different experience to regular cinemagoing. You don't have to sit through endless ads and trailers, it's straight into the feature. The people who attend are generally a bit more passionate about their viewing, so you know you're going to be part of an attentive audience. And often there's the presence of directors and/or actors who've come along to see how audiences will react to their work.

Often there will be a Q&A session with some of those involved with the film directly after the screening. Sometimes best avoided if you have another film to see soon after. Sometimes best avoided because the speakers aren't always as riveting as they seem to think they are....

But by and large this is a plus. The greatest pleasure is watching the actors doing what they do best, what they are paid to do, and actually acting up there on the screen. Often it's interesting to hear what they have to say about the creation of their characters, the behind the scenes stories of what was involved in shooting some of the more difficult scenes, the development of the story. I saw Richard E Grant last night and he had a deep well of entertaining stories to tell. Later in the week I am genuinely looking forward to seeing and hearing Sheila Hancock.

But there's one aspect of this I just don't get at all. The red carpet. Fans, and photographers of course, stand for ages awaiting the arrival of a car. The actor gets out of the car, maybe waves a bit, and walks into the building.

I want to see them acting. I will often enjoy listening to them talking about acting. But do I really need to see how well they can walk from a car to a door? It's not like it's a special skill they have they can do better than anyone else. I could get to see that demonstrated at any office block of a morning. I mean, I could do that. Couldn't you?

Elementary?

The Victorians loved their statues, didn't they?  "Eminent men."  Now mostly forgotten.  The Georgians gave us their fair share too.  Edinburgh is littered with them, invariably holding a book or a scroll or some device denoting their profession.  They get photographed a lot, and squeezed into selfies, because that's what tourists do.  We're not short of them either.

A couple of statues get rubbed as well.  Most famous is Greyfriars' Bobby, the wee dog across from the National Museum, who has a perpetually shiny nose, touched for 'luck' by gullible visitors.  Even more bizarre is the shiny toe of renowned rationalist David Hume, who would have hated to know he'd become the object of superstitious practices.

But there's one statue to someone even more famous, albeit fictional.  It's on a busy enough road right enough, but just that bit off the regular tourist trail.  In summer it's partly concealed by the trees on either side, so that even passing on the bus it's hard to get a glimpse.  The portrayal owes a bit more to Hollywood than to the original texts, but that does at least serve to make the character instantly recognisable when you do get to see him.  The deerstalker and pipe are pretty obvious clues, not requiring any great powers of deduction.

So what's London's most famous make-believe sleuth doing stood by the edge of Picardy Place? There's a further clue less than a hundred metres away, in the shape of a pub called the Conan Doyle.  Holmes' creator was born at 11 Picardy Place.  And although much of his schooling took place down in England, he returned to his birthplace to study medicine at the university.  One of his tutors there is generally credited as the inspiration for Sherlock's forensic approach to tackling crime, based on the techniques of observation, deduction and inference that Doctor Joseph Bell used in his approach to medicine (at that time regarded as an unusual way of working).

In the later part of his life the author became obsessed with spiritualism, and the city also has The Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Centre dedicated to this rather less popular aspect of his character.  I'm not sure what Holmes would have made of that.

Out of the Fridge and into the summer

THERE'S ALWAYS NEXT SEASON

It's been a long time since I last had a hockey-free Sunday, but today sees the start of the long wait for the new season in September.  Way back in last September I was able to write on here with the usual sense of bouyant optimism that's only possible before reality sets in.  Where I said that Caps fans weren't a demanding bunch and outlining our very low-level ambitions....

"If we could qualify for the knockout stages of the cup; if we could finish in the top eight of the league and have a chance to make it to the Playoffs; and, most importantly, if we can beat old rival Fife Flyers then we'll consider that a successful season."

That was followed by a post in November when the guys achieved the first of those three aims, in dramatic fashioned against the aforementioned Fifers.  The optimism was still strong within us.  But Caps can always find a way of confounding expectations.

A series of injuries in December, most notably to our star netminder, saw Edinburgh freefall down the league standings.  From looking a comfortable seventh we soon found ourselves back in familiar position at the arse end of the table.  We still put in a lot of strong performances, but ten minutes of brain fade here and there meant wins couldn't be had.  Caps got some form back after New Year, and stayed in (arithmetic) contention for a playoffs spot until three weekends from the end of the season, but faded at the very end to a slightly distant last place.  But hey, only eight points adrift of ninth.  That might not sound good to you, but it's a huge improvement on last year!

So that was aim number two put out to grass.  And, obviously, we didn't finish above the rivals from over the water.  But we can still claim some successes.  That game in November meant we qualified for the knockout stage of the cup and they didn't.  And in ten meetings the results turned out even, with five wins apiece.  Three of our five came in Kirkcaldy, a barn where we hardly ever get a result, so that was a big plus too (if we ignore the fact we lost to them three times at home as well).  The Flyers looked like a very ordinary team at times, only having the best nettie in the league gave them the position they achieved.

There were other big positives as well, at least compared to last year.  None of the players we began the season with had left by the end, none had suffered season-ending injuries.  They could be hugely entertaining at times, with a greater depth of attacking options than we were used to.  So it's ironic that having a star defenceman as coach did nothing to improve the record when it came to giving away soft goals.  But there were plenty of guys in the lineup we'd be delighted to see returning for 2017-18, even if there's disagreement among fans as to who they should be.  Most notably our captain, Jacob Johnston, who seems to have divided opinion more than any other.  For the record, I'd be one of those who'd love to see him back in a Caps jersey and thought him one of the outstanding players on the squad.

The club itself felt as though it had moved forward in other ways too, especially in communications.  As fans we were kept better informed than before, and that was a huge plus in making supporters feel more involved.  Credit to Mr Gent.   There were a lot of efforts put into attracting new supporters, and numbers did increase, albeit to nothing like the levels needed to help the team become truly competitive.  There's still plenty of space to fill in the Fridge of Dreams.  Ice hockey remains one of this city's great undiscovered pleasures.  It's a shame, for the fans we do have are (in my wholly unbiased opinion) the best in the league.  Loud, enthusiastic, we'll keep shouting win or lose, don't fade away when the results aren't going so well, and will stay behind to cheer our team off the ice.  We may be small in number but atmosphere there is aplenty.  (Never more so than in the comeback against Fife in THAT match in November, still my favourite memory of the season.)

I finished off my spectating season taking in a match featuring the 'baby' Caps who play in the Scottish league, and last weekend in Nottingham watching the semis and final of the EIHL playoffs.  No Caps, but plenty to cheer about, an interesting fans forum where we could ask questions of some of the team owners who dictate the shape of the league, and, in the final, one of the greatest hockey matches you might ever see.  Definitely worth a watch if you can spare the time (it does go on a bit....).  You can see it here until 8 May.

Now it's time for speculation and, eventually, signings, as summer passes on.  There are doubts about the future, rumours that Caps (along with Fife and Dundee) might leave the EIHL and join another league, rumours that our coach could be A, or B, or C, or ....  Time will pass, the waters will clear and one day we'll know what's happening.  But as long as there's a decent standard of hockey to watch in Murrayfield then I'll be there, back in my seat and ready to shout.  My name is Blyth and I'm a Capsaholic.

We can't risk these people committing more atrocities

WHEN ARE WE GOING TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THESE PEOPLE?

Another terrorist outrage with innocent people being killed on the streets of Britain.  When is our complacent government going to act?  Why can't they read the signs that show, all too clearly, who are the people to blame for this horror and clamp down accordingly.  You only have to look at the last couple of politically inspired murders to see there's an obvious pattern there.

This time the killer was a fifty two year old man who was originally known as Adrian.  Government spokepersons, and the supine mass media, insist on describing Adrian as "British".

"British", eh?  A convenient euphemism used to hide the inconvenient truth.  Adrian came from Kent and it that means only one thing.  Adrian was ENGLISH.

Adrian had a history of disturbed behaviour, but appears to have been turned towards extremist violence through the hate speech of various individuals, and the ready availability of  internet radicalism where lies and distortions can take in those who are easily led.

Notice the pattern here?  See the blindingly obvious similarities between this man and the previous perpetrator of a similar act?  Thomas Mair, the murderer of Jo Cox, has so many traits in common with our Adrian.

So the government needs to act now and come down hard on these people.  Gullible, fifty-something, English men with a history of hatred and bigotry are now a clear danger to our society and our way of life.

The authorities could always start with ukip's youth wing....

Vote Yes for democracy

YES, PLEASE

No big surprise, given the stubborn intransigence of May, that the Scottish Government announce plans to have IndyRef2.  They've tried everything possible to come to some kind of compromise agreement, with Westminster refusing to budge from their one track minded position.  What happens in the next few weeks will be fascinating for anyone with an interest in politics.  Article 50 and Section 30 providing the centrepiece.

As the First Minister made clear the circumstances of 2014 have changed radically.  A decisive vote to remain in the UK has been followed by a far more convincing majority to stay in the EU.  Which union takes precedence?  That isn't really the question.  More to the point, what does Scotland want it's future to look like?  And maybe even more importantly, what might we want to avoid?

It's obvious that the May government isn't going to listen to our elected representatives, so there's a convincing argument in that alone.  Do we want to be a country with a voice or not?  But I think it's how May treats the UK as a whole, at least over the Brexit fiasco, that's the more greatest long term worry and a sign of the UK becoming a deeply unpleasant state.

Democracy is built on the separation of powers to provide checks and balances, to prevent the emergence of dictatorship.  Executive, legislature and judiciary must be able to prevent each other having too much power.  Even if the actual structure in place is less than perfect, the principle they embody is an essential one.  So it's not encouraging to see the executive, the May government, challenge the right of the judiciary to ensure that the rule of law is maintained, as happened when they challenged the High Court decision that parliament must be involved in invoking Article 50.  And have subsequently gone on to override the spirit of the ruling, which was endorsed by the Supreme Court, by introducing a laughably inadequate bill that attempts to sideline the legislature in the Brexit process.  Aided by a spineless Labour Party leadership who have provided no real opposition in this matter.

May, in attempting to avoid parliamentary scrutiny, is acting like a wannabe dictator (shades of Trump).  If that path continues, and there seems little sign of it being blocked, it provides, for me, the most compelling reason to vote Yes.  Bring it on.

The story of my life?

CAPTURING THE PAST

Since the start of 1975 I've  endeavored to keep a daily diary, writing a few mundane lines about my day, and  the occasional comment on my state of mind or the wider world.  That's over 42 years worth of trivia, and still going.  There are a few gaps along the way, the longest of about six months, but there is, or rather was, a physical book for each calendar year.

That takes up quite a bit of space, for something that gets consulted only on rare occasions.  So when we started to think about downsizing, which resulted in our move to our current home, this mountain of paper looked a likely candidate for culling.  Except that that's my past life, since I was in the dying days of my teenage years, and does have a certain amount of interest and, very occasionally, some practical use as I try to pinpoint events in the past.  So I took a decision that comes with both positive and negative consequences.  I would data capture the entries into the digital world, and thereby discard the pile of books.  But over four and a bit decades I do seem to have poured out a lot of words....

At least I have an end point to aim for.  When I started on this path, in early 2014, it seemed sensible to also digitise each new day's entry as I went along.  And to capture the earlier months of that year so that it was complete.  So everything from 1 January 2014 is present and correct.  Progress at the other end is less encouraging though.

There have been spells when I've neglected the task, so the momentum has been far from linear.  Recently I decided to sit down and work out, roughly, how long the project might take.  At the rate of progress I'd managed up until that point I'd be around 80 when I finished.  I might not live to 80.

A few calculations suggest that to be finished around the time I turn seventy I'm going to have to type up around five to six entries per day.  With some entries being no more than a brief paragraph, whilst others can cover two or more pages of A4 in tightly packed script, that isn't a very meaningful measurement.  It's not helped by the appalling handwriting, which can require a bit of textual detective work to interpret at times.  If I had any sense I'd stop now.

Except that I did mention that there were also positive outcomes to this exercise (as well as the glacially slow reduction in the pile).  A cliche I know, but as we go through life we do become different people in many ways, but also retain some essential elements of our personality.  Wading through my daily existence from all that time ago is like reading a novel in which I am the central character, but only partially sketched out, and I'm left to try and fill in the holes.  It often feels like somebody else's life entirely when I come across incidents and people that trigger no memories at all.  Yet others seem so fresh in my mind and I'm instantly returned to the moment.  It's an interesting education in the selectivity of memory.

At the moment I'm only in 1980, in the earliest days of my career, gradually recovering from the most serious illness I've ever had, and making some friendships that have continued over the years since.  I know that there were some big upheavals in my life in the months I'm now entering, but how the words on the page will relate to my recall is going to be interesting.  My current life feels so sorted and contented that I'm not going to encounter anything that could disturb my equilibrium.  And there are many events still to look forward to as I type my way through each day.

So it might take me another decade (and then some), but this is one project I'm not giving up on.

Who's really in control here?

TAKING BACK CONTROL?

It was one of the big slogans of the Leave campaign.  It was one of the vaguest, most meaningless slogans of the Leave campaign, but it had a simple appeal to people who didn't really understand why their lives were being hit so hard.  They wanted to take back 'control' from the EU - which in reality controls very little of our day to day lives.  But who would this mythical 'control' be given to?

Since this was all about the UK, supposedly gaining powers it had lost, the implication was greater control for the UK constitutional set up.  For the major components of a representative democracy - executive, legislature and judiciary.  In very simple terms the legislature creates the law, the executive administers it, and the judiciary ensures compliance.

So why are the Leave fanatics getting so upset when this happens in practice?  First off it was the judges, who ruled that the law required parliament to approve the activation of Article 50.  A 'newspaper' (rag) headline declared they were "Enemies of the People".  For doing their constitutional job.  For daring to ensure that the law was in control.  Instead of accepting the judgement, the government wasted a considerable amount of taxpayers' money in trying to get a different decision.  What's so hard about accepting the rule of law?

Then it was the MPs who 'dared' to vote against the frankly pathetic bill that May hopes will give her unlimited power to batter through major constitutional changes that weren't even approved by the slender majority in an advisory referendum.  Now it's the House of Lords, over whom she tried to loom threateningly, because they have tried to minimise some of the damage being caused to a large group of people.  How dare they actually think of putting people first....?

But if this Brexit farce is consistently damaging and suggestive of a bleak future, it still manages to throw up plenty of comedy.  Who couldn't laugh at some of the over the top reactions of the fanatics?  So now we have the far right, who wanted to take back control, deciding that they don't like the control being shown because it doesn't exactly match the control they want it to be.  Or something like that.

So they're pushing a petition to abolish the House of Lords.  You couldn't, to use a phrase so beloved of these people, make this shit up.  Not only are the EU institutions unfit to meet their demands, so are the UK's.  The irony is that many of us on the left have for decades wanted the Lords replaced with something more in line with a democratic state.  Now the numpties are pushing for the right decision for all the wrong reasons.  What a shower.

'National' broadcaster? Really?

MIGHT AS WELL CALL IT THE EBC?

I wonder what the reaction in England would be if one of the main BBC news bulletins of the day featured, as a major item, several minutes discussing a crisis in the French health service, then, shortly after, another piece on problems with French policing?  Something tells me there'd be a few people getting more than a little upset.

It's the BBC after all.  The British Broadcasting Corporation.  Dedicated to covering British news stories, of interest to British viewers, plus a bit of international coverage.  Isn't that what it's supposed to be?  So I wonder why, last night, the 10 o'clock news featured two lengthy stories that were really only of interest to the people in one region of the UK?  And I wonder which region that might be....?

The BBC recently rejected the demand for a 'Scottish Six', a six o'clock news programme, on BBC1, leading with national stories in Scotland.  A dedicated Scottish channel has been promised, although what shape that will take remains to be seen, so judgement must be reserved for now.  But it means that on BBC1, the prime UK station, we'll continue to be fed a news service heavily biased towards England.

You see this strongly on so much of the BBC's news and politics output.  How often is the UK's third most important political party, in terms of Westminster seats and party members, seen on Question Time?  And how often does a minority, far right party with only one MP (perhaps not even that in the near future) and a falling membership manage to be featured so often?  Strange, isn't it?

But wait.  On Radio Four this morning the news bulletin actually led with a story about Scotland.  Sort of.  Reporting Cruella de May's speech suggesting that the Scottish Government should stop playing with people's lives, get on with the 'day job', and stop fretting about independence?  Funny, I thought the day job included trying to represent the wishes and best interests of the people who live in Scotland?  Which has to include an independence option since May's dictatorially-inclined government quite signally refuse to consider all the practical suggestions that have been made to cover the needs of a population that voted decisively to stay in the EU.

As for 'doing the day job', this carries just a smidgin of hypocrisy from the head of a regime that's wasting millions of pounds on the Department of Impending Catastrophe, or Ministry of Truth, or whatever Davis Davis' shambolic organisation is now called.

[Head of DIC sounds about right for Davis....]

In some ways I don't blame the BBC.  The government-led attacks and threats it's suffered since the eighties have resulted in a steady decline in the quality of reporting, and a long way form it's once vaunted impartiality.  It has been bruised and battered and cowed into lapdog status.  The creative departments remain as impressive as ever, and produce's much that's fine in drama and comedy.  They even manage to occasional decent documentary.  But politically they have been hamstrung and too often sound like little more than a (Westminster) government mouthpiece.  Pro-brexit, pro-union, increasingly right wing and seemingly promoting ukip because they like a bit of 'controversy'.  (Would Fuhrage even have been heard of if Question Time hadn't slung him under our noses at every opportunity, thus helping to normalise his hate speech?)

A state broadcaster free from commercial influences should be a strong force for truth and good in society. But it also needs to be free from political influence.  The BBC has lost it's way.

Republican times

NOT MY QUEENIE

When Scotland regains it's independence (and I become ever more confident that it's now a when rather than an if) one of the big questions to be answered is what sort of head of state we want to have.  In the 2014 referendum the government said we should retain the monarchy to provide a continuing link with the remainder of what had been the UK.  But is that really what we want, or need?

I hope not.  I've never been a monarchist, never will be,  It seems to me that royalty is the most visible symbol of one of the biggest problems our society has to overcome - inherited power, privilege and wealth.  Unlike the Scandinavian monarchies they look incapable of reform, with obsequious deference such a profound instinct in so much of the media and establishment.  We need a break from all that.

This is about self respect.  In the modern world it's surely important that we are treated as citizens, not subjects.  That must be integral to any concept of democracy.  At least the EU treats us as citizens, but they're even trying to take that right away from us.

Lizzie still, for reasons I fail to understand, is regarded with some affection by much of the public, even in Scotland.  Perhaps because she's managed to remain relatively anonymous in this age of media intrusion, as she still receives the sycophantic treatment.  But Charlie?  I wonder if that will still be the case when the man who talks to plants gets the job (against zero opposition of course)?  We can do so much better.  Anyone who doubts it just needs to look a short distance over the water to the cultured, intelligent and charismatic Michael D Higgins .  What more could you ask for in a head of state?  And what chance that someone of his abilities would come out of a bunch of chinless inbreds?

But the EU referendum travesty has so amplified the Little Englander mentality that those down south will likely want to cling on to the crown as part of their return to the 1950s.

Anyway, as my title above suggests, I don't regard her as my queenie anyway.  She call herself QE2.  But there was never a QE1 of my country.

Most people reading that will jump to the conclusion that I mean Scotland.  Unionists will then point out that Scotland is, at least for now, a part of a country called the UK.  And then find that my answer is still the same.  There was never a Queen Elizabeth of the UK.  Either way you look at it she's just plain queen Liz.  Unless you're stupid enough to think that Britain is the same thing as England....

And finally, we can be rid of that turgid dirge that passes for a national anthem.  Every time I hear it I just wish I was French.

Vive La Republique!

Writing for anybody - but mostly for myself

READY MADE SUBJECTS

As well as this blog I also post in one called Go Live.  It's been on the go for just over two years now, and has almost three hundred posts.

I enjoy writing, I enjoy going out to various forms of entertainment.  Put the two together and I have an ongoing flow of material.  The blog title did quickly become a misnomer though.  I envisaged it being about all the live events I'd been to see, but immediately realised I wanted to include films as well, or at least those I've been to a cinema to view.  At first I also included reports on ice hockey matches too, but soon recognised that they didn't fit in well with the overall theme of the blog.  So it's been narrowed down to encompass live music, drama, comedy, and the aforementioned cinema visits.  (I've refrained from trying to comment on art exhibitions and galleries, as I'd quickly feel right out of my depth!)

Hardly anyone reads these reviews, and that's fine with me.  I did get asked if I'd like to submit some to another blog, but in the end decided against it - I've no need of the pressure and having others read my words isn't what this is all about.  I do it for myself, and if anyone else happens to get something from anything I post then that's a bonus.  I do it because I enjoy the challenge, because I already try to write every day and here's some immediate subject matter, I do it just for fun and enjoyment.  If anyone does find something helpful in my outpourings then that's a bonus.

It has changed the way I view gigs etc. though.   Whatever I'm watching a part of my enjoyment comes from turning possible sentences and phrases over in my mind, trying to pick out the essential elements of whatever it is I'm looking at and listening to.  I also carry a notebook with me to jot down my thoughts after it's finished.  There are a few times when I feel my thoughts are clear enough and I don't need the notes.  But come festival time - be it film, jazz or Fringe - the little book is an essential companion.  Once you start to see two or three events in the same day the memory is not to be relied upon.

So I will continue with Go Live because it's become a habit I get a lot of pleasure from (even if few other people do!).  Occasionally I get a wider readership if the artist being covered decides to retweet or share my post (but only when I've been nice about them!).

But there's one success I'm unlikely to repeat in the future.  I had one of my reviews translated into Danish and published on a Danish folk music site, although I only discovered this by accident.  With Danish being such an opaque language if you're unfamiliar with it, it was as well I'd put in a couple of made up words, which proved to be untranslatable, and a reference to Jaco Pastorius.  Without them I'd never have recognised my own prose!

Tomorrow night I'm off to another folk gig, and then I'll be one step closer to the three hundred mark.  Need to keep my hand in for festival season....