Goodbye 2008 - Hello 2009

2008

This Christmas, with the economic recession foremost in all our minds, I decided consumable home made goods would be a good bet as presents. I was a bit worried about the reaction but was amazed that everyone loved the idea and the gifts. The gifts ranged from small goodie bags to large hampers. I filled these with a selection of home made country wines, sloe gin, rowanberry liqueur, ginger wine, chutney, marmalade, pecan and maple tablet, rum and raisin fudge, brandy truffles, shortbread and cake. The best thing about these hampers is that everything in them can be recycled!







Glen Affric - Above the clouds




My year of firsts finished with a visit to a new Hostel just outside Drumnadrochit where I celebrated the arrival of 2009 with friends. The Loch Ness Hostel at Bearnock was luxurious compared to some of the places I have visited in the past. Warm, clean and accessible to the many nearby hills is just what is needed for a winter break.


I have not made a definitive list of first but know that I have surpassed the fifty mark. The highlights for me was my fabulous birthday treat to the Three Chimneys in Skye, the Connect Festival and reading out my poetry in public. It was a memorable way to celebrate my fiftieth birthday year and I know that I will continue to celebrate each new experience in 2009.





A spooky Glen Affric below the clouds










2009

For me every New Year starts with bags of enthusiasm for my over ambitious plans. This year is going to be particularly special for me because I am due to become a grandmother for the first time in May. I also have loads of projects planned.

Here are a few;

Novels

I plan to finish my second novel, working title THE OOTLINS. I have been nibbling away at this story for the past year and although I know what needs to be written I find it hard to motivate myself whilst searching for a publisher for my first novel Torque. No more procrastination. The book will be finished this year.

Community Courses

I have recently been developing two courses to deliver into the community. The one that is attracting most interest is Surviving the Credit Crunch for Families. This can be tailored to any group. I use my past life experience of surviving the Miners Strike in 1984 but I also use day to day home crafts and all round canny practices.

The second course is the Guide to Successful Living which covers all aspects of health, wealth and happiness.

To find out more about these courses visit the website at www.moiramcpartlin.com

Carbon Footprint

My personal project for 2009 is to reduce my carbon footprint. Last year I made a good start on this but I think that with all this financial gloom around just now the time is ripe to push further to reduce the air miles on food and live on local produce.

I had a first stab at this yesterday.



Ta-Dah

As threatened last year I bought a cheese making kit. This first batch of cheese was produced from one litre of locally produced milk. It took ages but it is good fun.

The result of climate change or the return of winter?

Alpine glow on Bidien Shuish


On Friday we drove through scattered snow showers to reach Fort William before the big freeze happened. Our weekend with the Ochil Mountaineers had begun in seasonal style. The Àite Cruinnichidh bunk house at Roy Bridge was the perfect doss for a trip into the abundance of hills nearby. Saturday morning broke through with every drop of precipitation in evidence frozen white. Colin and I and one other OM decided the small Binnein Shuas (746) was a perfect excursion for our winter gear. It was so, so, so cold. What’s going on, November is normally the wet month? This was phenomenal, or maybe I had just forgotten. I certainly can’t remember the last time I donned my balaclava at the car park. We were like puppies let out in the snow for the first time. The three hours to the summit gave us plenty time to dawdle and snap the light.

Our return home on Sunday was just as incredible. At the summit of Rannoch Moor the car told us it was -8.5 outside. The landscape looked like a Christmas cake iced too early. It looked alien. Is this the beginning of the ice age we have been warned about or is it just that we have been due a good hard winter?

Judging from the number of businesses closed down in Fort William (not counting the troubled Woolies), it feels like the Fort could do with a bumper skiing season to pull the town back in full swing. Let’s hope this is the year.



Recipe for the birds

We arrived home with a bump from the dizzy clear heights of the high country to the fog bound Central Belt. The garden birds were down to their last few peanuts so I made then a special treat - Home made bird cake. This counts as a first because I made it first only a couple of weeks ago.

In a large pot melt half a packet of vegetable suet over a slow heat
Add a general wild bird food mix until the suet has been absorbed and all the seeds coated
Pack the crumbly mixture into half coconut shells or any other suitable container. It only takes a couple of minutes to cool and harden. Take outside and sit back to watch your afternoon entertainment; a feeding frenzy and a few spats too.


As I put the food out I couldn’t help worrying about the deer herd I saw down at road level hunting for some food. I hope they will not suffer too much with this early winter.

Just Read Barbara Kingsolver Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Barbara Kingsolver, author of the Poisonwood Bible, is famous for her novel writing but I suspect she is about to become the Al Gore of the literary world. This book chronicle the project she embarked on with her husband and two daughters; to live for a year eating only food sourced within a hundred mile radius of their home in Virginia. This fascinated me because it seemed impossible and I continually searched for holes in their theory. How would they manage without resorting to living through the winter months eating turnip and brussels sprout soup. They achieved it in style.

They did have the benefit of living on a farm and flexible jobs but it could not be denied that they worked hard at making this work.

I loved reading the book. At first I wished that I read it in February because I was itching to grow things but half way thorough I decided November is the perfect time because I now have time to plan how I can make a dent in our food miles.

While reading the book I dragged up a memory of someone trying this in Fife. Google brought me to the Fife Diet. I know Fife isn’t as exotic as Virginia but it is only fifty miles from me and I have to travel there anyway to visit my family so I found their resources most helpful.

Even if you don’t agree with Barbara’s view the book is worth a read for the exquisite and humorous writing.

I’m now off to order my cheese making kit. Thanks for the idea Barbara.

Not Long to Go

Fig wine colour co-ordinating with a pumpkin and my maturing Sloe Gin.



It’s been a while since I posted a ‘first fifty’ blog and because it is nearing the end of the year the ‘firsts’ are starting to pile up.

Over the past few weeks the firsts have been;

Read Great Expectations. I have read Dickens before but am amazed at the amount of people I have met recently who declare this to be their favourite all time book. It was beginning to get to me. In my classics bookcase I have a fine set of three leather bound compendiums my dad bought years ago and never read. Mark Twain (another who beckons), Arthur Conan Doyle and Dickens. There is no excuse.

The introduction to this version of Great Expectations claims, rather sniffily, that it was a block buster of its day. I can assure anyone who has never read it, that it is a fantastic page turner but it deserves the title of classic. The characters, particularly of Pip, are flawed with human traits and the mad Miss Haversham is every bit as nutty as I imagined she would be. Even the ending is left for the reader to decide. It may not be the best book I have read but it is certainly in the top twenty.

Make Fig Wine. This year I planted a fig tree and in anticipation of that crop I bought a 500gram bag of figs from the health store. I was then flummoxed as to what to do with them, so I did what I always do with buckshee produce – I made wine. Fig wine was easy to make and cleared to produce a warm honey coloured liqueur with long legs. And the taste? Well it tastes a little strange – it tastes like honey and Greek yoghurt. I am sure it has some medicinal qualities too!

Go to the Bingo. This is one I have been pining to do. When I was an unruly teenager I would occasionally go to the Sunday night bingo session in the Oakley Miner’s Welfare Club. I sat among all the old biddys and tried to win back some of my drinking money. I was hopeless because I was always too shy to call, but I hankered after these big colourful neon sparkled bingo halls just the same. What would they be like?

On Friday night my friend Fiona and I went to a Carlton Bingo(somewhere in Scotland). We signed up for our membership, paid our money and were given a pile of bingo books, each page containing about six separate grids to play off. It was daunting. The wee man at the microphone was kind enough to tell us what order the books were to play, then we were off. This must be the best trial for concentration I have ever had. The game starts with trying to fill one line. In no time someone calls. The next game is for two lines. This was new to me, they never had this in Oakley. It turned out to be the most difficult of all, so difficult that unlike my early days of silence, I called because I believed I had two lines filled up. I did have two lines filled up, I was certain and yet when the boy came and called my book number, ‘the computer said no’ I still needed 46. Fiona was buckled and my confidence was floored and my face scarlet. No one else seemed to mind. The next part of the game was for a full house. Neither Fiona nor I were near the mark on any of the games, but we did have fun for the first half, then the novelty ran out. We had arranged to meet Colin for a meal and had to leave before the end. The two ladies next to us were delighted to receive out remaining books. They were not fazed with the prospect of looking for numbers on twelve grids. I don’t know how they do it.


The Battle of Stiling Bridge in crayon. It wasn't originally as messy as this, but the sheet has been kicking about in my handbag all weekend

Brass Rubbing. This might sound daft but it is still a first. I remember when I was a kid this was trendy, if a little nerdy pastime; a bit like crocheting your own bikini. On Saturday I went to the Smith Institute in Stirling with the intention of visiting the Leonardo De Vinci exhibition, the only problem was it moved to Aberystwyth at the beginning of the month. The Smith Institute can still thrill no matter what the exhibits are. The replacement for Leo was the Fife Printmakers Workshop which, spookily, normally lives in the next street to my mother’s flat in Dunfermline. The rest of the time I spent revisiting the permanent exhibit of the history of Stirling, which is more comprehensive than the bridge battle and William Wallace. There are hands on activities one of which is a brass rubbing section. Pick up a piece of paper and a crayon and rub. It isn’t as easy as it sounds; I think the correct way is to tape the paper to the brass, without tape the paper slides around. Good fun though.

A fistful of firsts

Check out this new film by Rare Breed Productions. 'Echo Wall' is released this month and can be ordered directly for www.davemacleod.com.

Who needs manufactured Hollywood Blockbusters when you can witness real live thrills played out on the steep cliffs of Ben Nevis.



A fistful of firsts




Well maybe not a fistful but I love alliteration and sometimes I can’t help myself.

Saturday dawned with the water pouring from the sky and from the cold water tank overflow pipe. Colin could fix one but not the other. We decided to knock off a couple of things I had on my fifty wish list with the biggest and best of the day being in direct response to the weather. What better day to go to the first and only boat lift in the world – The Falkirk Wheel. Opened by The Queen in 2002 and just thirty miles from home, I am amazed it has taken me so long to visit this feat of Scottish engineering. While we waited for the boat trip we encountered many soaked and mud splattered charity mountain bikers who had just travelled the route we originally planned to take to the Wheel; the canal tow path from Anniesland. I am so glad we opted for the car.

The Boat trip lasts an hour and for our £8.00 we were treated to a running commentary by a crewman while we travelled the four and a half minute vertical journey from the Forth and Clyde Canal to the Union Canal, then a short trip through a tunnel and back again. It is too difficult for a engineering nitwit like me to explain the full principle of the wheel but it works using the counter weights of two gondolas, so uses hardly any power to operate.

Another first for me was, while travelling to the Wheel, we passed through Bonnybridge. Now Bonnybridge has been a fascination with me for years, ever since I heard that they have more UFO sightings there than anywhere else in the world. As we drove through I tried to suss out why aliens would pick this place to make an appearance. The town was a boom town during the industrial revolution, with good road, rail and canal links, but now it looks very much like a number of small towns in Central Scotland, a bit tired.

A second interesting fact I found out about Bonnybridge while at the Wheel was that they have more lottery winners per capita than anywhere else in the UK.

On the way back home I was tempted to stop off in Bonnybridge to bag another first, - buy my first lottery ticket, but then I remembered the reason why I have never bought a ticket before. I passionately believe that the lottery robs people not just of their money but of their aspirations. I remember in the olden days people pinned all their hopes on winning the pools, at least there was a small degree of thought went into that practice. The lottery is chance. Folks live from one week to the next in the hope of winning money to pull them out of the doldrums.

I know that the counter argument is the lottery gives to a large number of good causes, but it is my experience that the beneficiaries of the good causes are a different demographic completely for the poor buggers who spend large proportions of their income chasing empty dreams.

My first fifties are things I have always wanted to do, the lottery does not fall into that bucket. I know I will never buy a ticket.

First number three for this weekend was to cook a Sri Lankan meal. I am not sure if this is a cheat of not but I bought a packet of different spice at The Wheel Shop and yesterday I mixed them with the last of my garden potatoes and spinach to make a lovely coconut curry. The Hodhi Mix contains turmeric, dried curry leaf, mustard seed, mustard flour and Rampe. At first I thought this was a funny thing for a Scottish tourist shop to sell until I realised the producer, Therssy’s Village, is based in Portree, Isle of Skye.

Joan Baez wows Glasgow

Another first for me. Last night I witnessed the hard men of Glasgow simper under the hypnotic vocals of legend Joan Baez. The show at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall was special for me because having just learned the rudiments of guitar I have a renewed love of all things folk.

Joan Baez was a huge draw when I was a child and to have the chance to see her singing live was a privilege.

This lady, who has shorn her hippy hair, now looks stunning with a trendy silver crop. She retains the crisp vocals and astounding range of early Joan. However she did admit last night, after forgetting lyrics for a second time, that her brain cells are not what they were. Her band played a little out of sync with her; this was explained when she introduced them as having met her only a week and a half ago. Because of this I enjoyed her solo set best, just Joan and her guitar.

It is a testament of our time, that her signature protests songs have now been reintroduced into the set. Dylan's God On Our Side was particularly telling.

The humor was provided by the guy in the first row who persisted in shouting out requests, despite Joan's plea for a translator. The affection the crowd poured towards Lady Joan was touching. I suspect she has a long career ahead of her.


Just Read The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver



In my quest to read more African books in 2008 than I have in my previous fifty years, it was a delight to stumble upon Poisonwood Bible in the Bibliocafe. The book is a former Oprah book club choice but, having now peeked into the list, with some exceptions, I am beginning to think that is no bad thing.

Set in the Belgian Congo at the time of Independence, this novel tells the tale of an evangelical minister who drags his wife and four daughters into the jungle to convert the natives. Told through the five very distinctive female voices, this is a masterpiece in character, plot and sentiment. With the exception of War and Peace it is the best book I have read this year.

Food for Free but no vitamin D

One of my few sunflowers not felled under the weight of August's rain.

Experts said on the radio yesterday that the people of Scotland suffer from a vitamin D deficiency because the sun's rays refuse to shine here. Looking at the weather today I can see their point but there is so much more going for us that we forget to look beyond what the experts tell us.

Last night's full moon could not been seen through the rain clouds, but I knew it was there. I am inclined to call this the Harvest Moon although that technically is not correct; the Harvest Moon is the moon after the first frost and miraculously we haven’t had a frost yet. But harvesting is what I did most of the weekend. The wet summer means the hedgerows are dripping with produce and there is enough for me and the birds. The day was dry and bright on Sunday and Colin and I stepped just outside our door and foraged for sloe berries, rowan berries and brambles. The hawthorn is in abundance too but we had run out of bags when we reached them. I also collected some beechnuts which I intend to roast.

And like last year I collected pounds of plums and damsons from my neighbours’ trees. Yesterday while the rain poured down and the sun refused to gift the Scots with their necessary dose of vitamin D, I spend the afternoon in the warm company of the radio making compote, jam, chutney, wine, sloe gin and rowan berry liqueur. I think we now have more than enough sugar and alcohol in that batch to see us through the wet winter.

I just need to find my own herring stock and then the vitamin D problem will be sorted.



My barrel garden

More firsts

The harvest in the garden has also been a bumper. In keeping with my Fifty First Timers here is a list of all the vegetables and fruit I grew successfully for the first time this year;
Peppers, cucumber, cauliflower, leeks, celery, asparagus pea, red onion, tomatillo and Brussel sprouts. I am also attempting to grow aubergine but as yet they have to bear fruit. Rhubarb, gooseberry and blackberry, have also been planted this year although the birds had the feast of the harvest there. I grew marigolds from seed and used these as a companion plant for the greenhouse plants. It was amazing to watch them being shredded by tiny beasts while the veg plants were left to grew in peace.

If the food prices continue to rise at their present rate I may have to put in even more effort next year to reduce my food air miles and the strain on my budget.

History Lesson

Fifty First Timer No. 27
Read and adored War and Peace

The blurb on the cover says this is the greatest book ever written. I don’t know if that is true but it is certainly one of the best books I have read.

To say I was daunted reading this 1360 page novel is a lie; I have been in the past that was until I heard a great piece of advice. ‘How do you eat an elephant? Answer, in bite size pieces.’ That is how I tackled this, a chapter at a time. The hardest part was holding the book for long stretches of time, its heavy!

The story takes place over two Napoleonic Wars and gives a fantastic insight into the way the Russian class system worked at that time – no wonder they had a revolution. The aristocracy were few but owned all the land and also owned the Serfs, who were slaves. I am so ignorant, I had no idea.

I also worked out that Tchaikovsky wrote 1812 Overture about the battle of Borodino – there is a gruesome section about this battle.

As the title suggests, it isn’t all about War. There are long sections about the years between the two wars. There are over 500 characters (some historical) in War and Peace Tolstoy uses great techniques to help the reader remember who each one is. By the time I was finished the book I was intimate with them and now miss them.

I would encourage everyone to read this book, it only took me two months to read.



Age doesn’t come on its own

As a birthday present the Health Board sent me an invitation - I am now eligible for their bowel screening programme – lovely, can't wait!

Five Firsts on my Fifty Week

Three Chimneys, Skye


What a fantastic time I had. I was amazed that I managed five first. A couple were expected but not five.

Fifty First Timer No. 22
Stay and eat that the Three Chimney’s on Skye

This has been on my wish list for year. The Three Chimneys is reputed to be one of the best restaurants in the world. I didn’t realise they also had accommodation, so imagine my surprise when I discovered my birthday treat was two nights dinner, bed and breakfast at this exclusive establishment.

The drive up through Glen Coe and The Great Glen was dramatic with sun and sheet rain. We arrived at the House Over-by at 5.30 with just enough time to gaze in wonder at the view, experience the luxury of the room and dress for 7.30pm dinner.

That first glass of chilled champagne fair went doon a treat.

My starter was succulent scallops this was followed by the freshest oysters I have ever slurped, they were juicy and ripe and perfect. My main course included a first (see below) - Lamb with heart, sweetbread and kidney. Yummy.

We were too full for pudding because every course seemed to be preceded by an appetiser - pan fried mackeral on goosberry puree was about five mouthfuls too small - we settled for coffee, some dinky little cakes and a dram to finish off. I could see beads of relief wave off Colin’s brow when we were informed the 25 year old Talisker was finished, I had to settle for a 10 year old.



Fifty First Timer No. 23
Eat Sweetbread

I am conscious that a number of these first include eating weird food, but I am a foodie, I have to try everything at least once.

When I was younger and lived in Fife I bought all my meat from a travelling butcher’s van – Bert The Butcher. He came every Wednesday and Saturday and I always bought the same thing, mince, bacon, beef, square sausage for Sunday Breakfast. Ladies would flock to the van. ‘ony sweet breads the day Bert?’ they would ask. I was always curious as to what the elusive and desirable sweet breads were

I later found to my horror that it was testicle. And I still did until I checked before posting this blog.

I thought I had no desire to try this but couldn’t resist when it was offered with the lamb dish. It was delicious fried but not as nice as the heart, which I think I have tried before.

How naive was I? I now find out that sweet bread is a gland near the heart.

There you go, another urban (or Fife) myth bites the dust.

Fifty First Timer No. 24
See a Minke Whale

After a luxurious nights sleep we ate our fill at the House Over-by breakfast table. Homemade muffins, breads, pancakes, oatcakes Scones and applesauce, marmalade, jam. There was also smoked salmon, fish pate, cheese, fruit and a smoked salmon omelette on offer. We had to at least attempt to walk some of this off.

The Three Chimneys is located in the south west portion of Skye, an area we had never explored before. We drove round tiny single track roads to Neist Point where a well laid out path took us to a light house which can be rented as holiday accommodation. Loads of sea bird activity just off the shore alerted us. Some children were screaming with delight and jumping up and down. We rushed down to see what was happening.

I stared at the sea for about ten minutes watching the gulls dive bomb the waves and was rewarded with the sight of a small black fin and then the sweep of a black curled back arching out of the sea and sinking below the depth before I could take the camera out of its case. There was no doubt with that shape and size I had just encountered my first Minke Whale, out for a spot of fishing. We hung around for ages hoping for another glimpse but we only saw a few black fins. I felt privileged.



Sunset over Taransay from Horgabost camp site

Fifty First Timer No. 25
Visit Lewis and Harris

We left Uig in Skye on a CalMac ferry bound for Tarbert, Harris on Monday afternoon. We left the unusual sunshine on Skye for a murky Harris, where the clouds skiffed the roads. The missel soaked us during the ten minutes it took us to pitch our tent and carry our gear from the car to the pitch which was high on machair on a beach side site at Horgabost.
The campsite proved to be idylic so we stayed all week. White sand, bird watching, and the creaking gate call of the corncrake merged with the sound of crashing waves to lull you to sleep.

The next morning proved no better weather wise so we plumped to explore Lewis.
After reading Stornoway Way by Kevin MacNeil I expected a grim town, but Stornoway turned out to be a pretty little fishing town with fine brick buildings, an excellent art centre featuring local artists and crafts and a few good cafes. There were loads of pubs though and this is maybe where the tarred reputation of Stornoway stems from.

While we could still see the road from the mist we headed south to the Callanish Standing Stones.
These are described as the most spectacular megalithic standing stones in Scotland. They are impressive standing tall and fast against the western storms. There is something very touching about the fact that people gathered together and took such care 4000 years ago to erect these stones. I wonder then if they realised the fuss folks would make all these years later.

It was a good day to see the stones, not too many people milling around spoiling photo shots and quite dramatic backdrops.



Callanish Standing Stones





Fifty First Timer No. 26
Have a drink in an inflatable pub

I am pleased to say the weather improved. So much so we were forced to go for a drink in a pub. The main hotel in Tarbert is being renovated; the bar is out of commission for months, what could they do? They took a bouncy castle approach and erected an inflatable bar. It would have been perfect had it not been made out of plastic and had real window instead of painted on ones. Inside the bar on this hot day was like being inside the inside of a wellie. Everyone preferred to sit outside in the 24°heat.



Inflatable Pub, Tarbert






Back to auld claes and porridge



View from Skoon Art Cafe, Harris - The best plum and oatmeal muffins ever.

The Half Century has arrived

Today is my fiftieth birthday. I am not sure how I should feel; I know I am happy it is my birthday because I love celebrations of any kind. I don’t feel fifty; I don’t know how that is supposed to feel. If I was honest I am worried that I won’t be able to do all the things in life I want to do, but I know I am going to have a hell of a good time trying.



Big Buddha


Fifty First Timer No. 21
Climb a Hong Kong munro

I know I am becoming a bit predictable with all these munros and hills, but it has to be done.

Hong Kong region has vast ranges of forests and hill trails. On our initial approach to the airport on Lantau Island I was astounded by the superb ridges that reached out over the territory. The fact that I could see trails on the crest of one outstanding ridge urged me to explore the area I later learned was the New Territories.

We were staying on Lantau Island the first week of our visit, so it made sense to start with the Lantau trail and its highest point, Lantau Peak (934m)
To say I climbed a munro is a bit of a cheat because we caught a bus from Mui Wo to a high point at Ngong Ping, a popular tourist destination because of the giant Buddha statue and the Po Lin monastery situated in the same spot as the start point of the Lantau Peak. Funny, but it didn’t take long for us to loose the crowds and find we had the path to ourselves.

Although this is a well marked trail, the path was steep with a couple of sections where I felt a tad exposed. It was also raining which made the rock slick.

Climbing a hill in Scotland is hard enough work but the added tropical heat meant that the leg up we were given by the bus ride did little to ease the pain of the ascent. The summit was reached in good time for lunch, but the flies and mosquitoes on top had the same idea, so we beat a hasty retreat along the Lantau Trail to find ourselves spewed out of the forest onto a busy highway ripped up by major road works. The workies were helpful in guiding us through the traffic cones to the nearest bus stop and like all our transport in Hong Kong, it wasn’t long before a bus stopped to accept our Octopus card swipe and we were soon home in Mui Wo drinking beer.

If we had left this trip to the end of our holiday we would have failed because a week after our climb Ngong Ping and its neighbouring villages were cut of by a major landslide which left the area without electricity and fresh water for days.

In the last week of our holiday we climbed Tai Mo Shan (957m), Hong Kong’s tallest mountain.

If I look shattered it is because I am.

Money makes me mad

If only we could blow Grand Lisboa Casino into the South China Sea

Fifty First Timer No.20
Gamble in a casino

One ambition I have held for years has been to visit a casino and place a bet. Where better to achieve this ambition than in that world famous gambling paradise Macau. This former Portuguese trading port is an hour’s ferry trip from Hong Kong and was high on my lists of ‘must visits’.

We caught the ferry from the exotically named China Ferry Terminal in Kowloon. This Sunday morning the streets of Kowloon were almost deserted, but for a few stragglers all heading in the same direction as we were. The terminal lives up to its name; it is possible to travel from there to over fifteen different destinations in mainland China. The Macau ferry has frequent sailings but the cheap seats on the next ferry that Sunday morning were taken, so we couldn’t leave for another hour. Starbucks is quite a good place for breakfast though!

Macau was hot, hotter than Hong Kong and because the ferry disembarks a good half hour walk from the main thoroughfare, our tempers were beginning to fray by the time we reached town. This wasn’t helped by the walk through Fisherman’s Warf, a tourist amusement park, the epicentre of which boasts a fake mountain which looks more Utah than Pearl River.

The walk took us past vast concrete and glass creations; the hotels and casino of this Chinese Special Administrative Region. Our guide book led us on a walking tour mobbed with tourists, so we ditched the tour and wandered the quite side streets. I marvelled at the incense burning in almost every doorway, if shrines could not be bought a drain pipe would suffice as a suitable alter. Throughout my journeys in this area I was struck by the arrogance of past colonialism and their suppression of individuals’ rites to worship as they please. I am glad that Bhudda is still strong in the Macauan’s hearts and is pushing forth among the cathedrals and churches and casinos of those other religions.

The heat was intensive and a beer was soon required, but not forthcoming. Even back among the Starbucks, McDonald's and Haagen Dazs, we found no Carlsberg. Then I spotted a young man in an upstairs window that over looked the square supping a beer. There!

We found the door way to café E.S. KIMO round the corner in a crowded market street. Beers taste so much better when you have been deprived. We also ate a Korean Egg sandwich (an omelette on white bread) and a fresh fruit salad which we were appalled to notice was drizzled with Heinz Salad Cream but it tasted rather good.

The biggest and most vulgar casino in Macau is Grand Lisboa Casino. This gold monstrosity rises up like an Imperial standard at the edge of cowering colonial streets and hails the start of the casino studded highway back to the ferry terminal.

Before we could enter the casino we were subjected to a bag search and a pass through an airport security screen. We were then thrown into a hall crammed with tables of baccarat and poker and roulette. The back of the hall beckoned, with flaunting bauble and bells, the fruit machines sang.

Shiny escalators floated us to higher floors where the stakes rose with the altitude. I could see on the seventh floor a high stakes area, cordoned off, admittance by invitation only. Most of the gamblers were middle age, Chinese men, although a high proportion were haggles of young women. Smoke and expensive perfume choked the air and made me gag or maybe that was caused by my disgust at the indiscriminate waste.

I gaped as one man threw a thick bundle of Yuan onto the table and then shrug as it was scraped into the sealed cache of the croupier. Why had I felt so guilty in China, languishing in my expensive hotel in Guangzhou? At least I was giving something back in terms of tourist revenue. This debauchery was indecent.

I had lost my taste for gambling but I was there, so with my grubby twenty Hong Kong dollar note in hand, I perched at a fruit machine and did what I had to do; loose it in three presses of a button.

I would now like to visit a Glasgow casino for comparison, but I can be certain I will never be in danger of becoming an addict; I am too canny for that.


Just Read
Chinua Achebe, Home and Exile

I have only recently discovered Chinua Achebe and am now a fan. A couple of months ago I read the excellent Arrows of God a novel based around the nineteen twenties. Home and Exile is a non fiction essay originating from a series of the lectures given at Harvard University. I bought the book thinking it was an autobiography. It isn’t, although there are a number of pleasing autobiographical anecdotes.

I was delighted to find that Home and Exile examines African literature and argues that African literature should only be written by Africans. He cites the African writing of the past, written by Europeans, as distorting the perception of the continent and portraying the African as primitive, heathen and stupid.

It was quite a shock to read his comments because I am currently writing a novel with an African character and although I do not presume to describe her homeland or her upbringing, Achebe’s comments have made me rethink my approach.

Here, there and everywhere

Liz on the summit of Sgor na h-Ulaidh


Poor wee soul

This is going to be a short post because I have a chest infection and am splattering my screen with pea green mucus every few minutes. It’s enough to make even me sick.

The McPartlin Munroists

On Saturday I struggled up Sgor na h-Ulaidh (scoor na hooly) a rocky munro in Glen Coe. I wouldn’t normally leave my bed when ill but it was my sister’s munro compleation. The weather was perfect; high cloud, slight breeze in the valley, just a few drops of rain. A well deserved cheese burger was gobbled down in the legendary and hoatching Clachaig Inn followed by a stagger of about a mile to stay over night in a caravan my brother John had booked. The caravan, next to the Glencoe Bunkhouse, had great views towards the hills we had just climbed. It is a shame I kept everyone awake all night with my coughing. Well done Liz!



That makes three McPartlin Munrosits.



Fifty First Timer No.19
Fast Train to China

On the first full day in Hong Kong we booked a trip into China, it takes about a week for the visas to come through so we left the following Wednesday. Mr Lee picked us up at the hotel and deposited us at the railway station with grave instruction on what to do on arrival in China; hang onto your bag, do not get separated, do not declare anything, look out for the guide, if she is not there phone this number.

Our destination was Guangzhou and our guide, Eve, was waiting at the station along with her driver Mr Jang. Together they made our stay an enjoyable, entertaining and informative one. We were templed out, three day later, when Eve dropped us back at the station.

The highlight for me was getting up at seven the first morning to wander the river side streets and find them filled to the banks with people exercising. Tai Chi groups graced every inch of park, make do badminton nets were strung from handy trees, there was even a group of old men swimming in the mighty Pearl River. To say I was impressed would be an injustice, I was inspired. The Chinese, as a race, are temperate, hard working, and thin. What must they think of the arrogant blobs and lager louts who stagger and swagger in the West (and in some parts of Hong Kong)?




This is one of the markets Eve took us to see.



And Talking of Blonde Birds and Bikes

In my last post I mentioned Lucy’s John O ‘Groats to Lands End attempt. Well she has done it. Well done Lucy!

I am now off to bed with a hot toddy, antibiotics, Lemsip and Strepsils - I'll be better tomorrow.

Hong Kong V Scotland

Carbisdale Castle


I had planned to update this blog with stories from Hong Kong, but it is proving difficult because life back home has been as hectic and exciting as the holiday. However I still have to report all my Firsts, so I will start with another Hong Kong First and slot in some of the Scottish ones.

Fifty First Timer No.15
Eat Shark’s Fin Soup

I know some of you will be throwing up your hands in horror or even just throwing up at the thought of this, but when my principles started to niggle, I remembered the words of my Muslim friend when I once offered her Stornoway black pudding (made from pigs blood) for breakfast and she replied ‘Lovely, I never let religion get between me and my stomach’.

I now apologise and promise never to do it again.

I have tasted Shark’s Fin soup before but it was made from synthetic shark fin. The soup I ordered in Hong Kong was the real thing. The venue was the American Restaurant in Wanchai. The restaurant has been around for xx years. When Hong Kong was a popular R&R destination for the US troops during the Vietnam War the restaurant’s owners, hoping to attract the GIs, renamed their restaurant thinking it would sound welcoming. The name and the restaurant proved popular, so when the war ended they retained the same.

The waiter helped us to decide on the size of portions we needed and advised me that the soup was expensive, was I sure I still wanted it. ‘Yes sir’, falling into an American twang. Like most Chinese meals the food came at different times, what we would consider the second course was delivered first followed by the soup. Sharks fin soup is thick and gluttonous with fibrous strands of fin laced through. The taste is light and eggy which I found delicious, almost like eating noodles in potato soup. The meal was washed down with Tsing Tsao beers and buckets of green tea. Despite his advice, we ordered too much food which gave the waiter a good laugh at our expense.


Weekend wedding and more Firsts

Fifty First Timer No.16
Stay in a haunted castle

The weekend saw a few Firsts, most I will do again because it was such fun.

We attended a wedding party at Carbisdale Castle. The castle is perched on a hill just outside Bonar Bridge in Sutherland and is the Scottish Youth Hostel Association’s flag ship. I have passed it many times on the road to the far north and looked longingly at its towering ramparts and cosy welcoming lights twinkling through the trees, but this is my first stay there.

The castle was built in 1917 by the widow of the Duke of Sutherland. It was gifted to the Youth Hostel Association in 1945. The castle is reputed to be haunted but there was no evidence of ghosts this weekend, they were probably all quivering in a corner to avoid the noise of the ceilidh band, disco, general revelry and my musical abominations.

John and Kate, the happy couple, wanted a party and they certainly bagged their wish. The hostel can sleep over 180 visitors and we almost filled the whole place from Friday night through to a bleary eyed Sunday lunchtime.

Colin and I were attending the evening part of the wedding so we were lucky to spend Saturday in the surrounding area. We went for a wander round Dornoch, had scrummy home made Cornish pasties at the Dornoch Patisserie then walked along the four mile pristine beach to Embo trying to spot minkie whale in the Dornoch Firth. A pass remarkable supper was picked at in a pub before we tarted ourselves up for the party.

The ceilidh band played their ‘Gay Gordon’s’ ‘Dashing White Sergeants’ and ‘Strip the Willow’ for the group, the majority of who were hill walkers who skirled and whirled until the buffet was served. We then switch to the gyrating disco beats of the ‘70s and ‘80s.

When the official music stopped the party moved to one of the many lounges and this is where my other Firsts came in.

Fifty First Timer No.17
Learn to play a bodhrán

Fergus, one of the two Best Men is married to an Irish lady and came to the wedding complete with bodhrán, a traditional Irish instrument, under his arm. I begged for a lesson which he was quite happy to provide, he explained how to hold the single drumming stick and demonstrated the beat then said ‘right practice, I’ll be back in five minutes.’ Being a tenacious learner I did what I was told, but the others in the company moaned in horror, ‘you’re not really going to do that for five minute?’

The stick was as slippery as noodles in chopsticks, and kept falling from my hand. When Fergus came back he told me to relax and steer through the wrist. I did for a little while until my hand grew tired then I handed the bodhrán back to its rightful owner. I think I will add a bodhrán to my birthday list.

Fifty First Timer No.18
Play an electric guitar

Ranald, the other best man, took his electric guitar and amplifier to the wedding. I couldn’t resist a go. I strummed some chords and tried to pick out a couple of tunes, but the combination of previously drunk glasses of wine and the fact the shiny red and white guitar continued to slide over my chiffon dress and off my lap, did not make for a pleasant experience for the other hard core party goers, in the end I reluctantly handed the guitar back and looked out at the dawning day. It was time for bed.

I now apologise but can't promise never to do it again



Blonde Bird on a Bike

Someone who did not partake of too much wedding wine and was probably getting out of bed when dawn was breaking was Lucy. Lucy attended the wedding but rose early to arrive on time for her nine o’clock, Sunday morning start of her John o’Groats to Lands End Bike ride. You can follow her progress on her blog

http://lucymcnee.blogspot.com/

I have also added Lucy's Blog to my top favourite blogs.

A trip doon the water

Wemyss Bay Station

Fifty First Timer No.13
Didn’t we have a lovely time the day we went to Rothesay.

Rothesay - one time holiday destination for almost everyone living in the west of Scotland. The town nestles on the eastern shore of the small Isle of Bute in the Clyde Estuary. And I have never been there!

Two of my writing cohorts from our group The Mitchell Sisters agreed to accompany me even thought they are both seasoned Rothesayites. The transport is straightforward. One return ticket covers the train to Weymss Bay, ferry to Rothesay, bus and entrance fee to Mount Stuart house.

The Victorian style station at Weymss Bay is a give away for what is in store. On the island’s grand sea-front, houses big enough for family and servants, tell of rich Glasgow merchants escaping the grime of the city to this gentler shores. Later the working classes cottoned on to this gem in the Clyde and paddle steamers transported hoards ‘doon the water’ to spend the Glasgow Trades fortnight at the seaside.

Sadly this trend died out with the advent of cheap packages to Spain and the town became the tired seaside haunt that is evident up and down the coasts of the UK. But there is work afoot to change that. Building work at the ferry terminal hints at a turning tide for the tired old lady of the Clyde and the town is close enough to Glasgow to be a desirable weekend bolthole.




The Mitchell Sisters

Our destination is >Mount Stuart House, the ancestral home of the present Marquis of Bute, racing driver Johnny Dumfries.

I had heard that a Mark Neville exhibition is being staged there and was keen to see his latest project. Mark Neville is the photographer who took photos of working class people in Port Glasgow, a depressed shipbuilding town and gifted each resident exclusive copies of the resultant coffee table book.

The Mount Stuart exhibition focuses on the rural, agricultural classes and with the use of different lighting techniques he captures stunning images of these hard working folk which is evocative of Russian portraits.

The guided tour of Mount Stuart House lasts an hour. Two memorable sights from that visit are the black calcified marble on the stairs, where fossilised sea creatures are captured for eternity and the discovery of more striking photos; a quick trip to the toilets reveals a hidden set of photos taken during the Great War when the house was used as a Naval Hospital. The setting for the hospital is grand and unique but the suffering is captured in the wounded sailor’s eyes.



Mount Stuart Gardens

Old and New

Fifty First Timer No.12

Visit the Smith Institute, Stirling. (Now named Stirling Smith Museum)

It has been my ambition to visit this unique local museum ever since I attended a lecture by its Director Dr Elspeth King. That was twelve years ago, but it was worth the wait. The museum is housed in what looks like a Greek temple, a style much favoured in the eighteen hundreds. It was gifted to the city by Thomas Stuart Smith, whose family story is so similar to that of Kidnapped’s David Balfour, it is believed that Robert Louis Stevenson was inspired whist visiting the institute and dealt himself a ‘truth is stranger than fiction’ card.

There are three exhibit rooms in the museum. The first, small room, is adjacent to the one café I failed to try on my travels. This room houses a painting exhibition by Greer Ralston. All paintings are of horses and although I am not partial to animal paintings, I couldn't help be impressed with the emotions captured in each subject’s eyes, it is chilling.

The next exhibit is my favourite, the history of publishing in Scotland, how lucky. There is particular emphasis on Stirling Printers Eneas MacKay, who published many works by SRL and MacDiarmid, among others.

The last exhibit appears to be a permanent feature, with local archives reaching back to the Bronze Age. I was enthralled by a short film explaining the demise of the mining industry in the area.

Twelve years is a long time to put off a visit, but now I have witnessed what is on offer I will be pop in on the passing.

Planted

One lilac tree and buddleia; to encourage the birds and the bees and the butterflies into the garden.

One kerria and saxifrage, planted in an painted old fireplace. I saw a kerria while visiting my brother in hospital and fell in love with its delicate apricot flowers.

Two broom bushes beside the grasses. I love broom, the hedgerows sparkle with it at the moment. I suppose I could have gone out and dug a clump but if everyone did that there would be no hedgerows left.

One rowan tree. A friend gave me a tiny sapling in a plastic bottle. I planted it yesterday and already it looks at home. It is widely believed in Scotland that no home should be without a rowan tree. We left one behind when we moved here. Now I feel our home is complete.

Toys, books and blogs

My new toy

Fifty First Timer No.11

Build and stock a greenhouse

Before I receive another ticking off for stretching the truth, I have to admit I didn’t build the greenhouse myself. I was the labourer. Colin (the engineer) did all the tricky stuff, but we made a good team and on Sunday evening we took great pleasure sipping our G & Ts in the comfort of the ‘High Eave Elite’.

A greenhouse is not a cheap option but it is a concerted attempt on our part to grow some of the more exotic veggies. I love cooking with chillis and peppers and I go through mountains of tomatoes in a year. I will probably stick to these easy options for this year and experiment a bit more next. I am hoping it will pay itself off in enviromental and monetary terms in the next couple of years.


New Blog

I am the proud mother of a new blog. As a new member of Erskine Writers I was coerced into helping them out with their website. This is managed externally and seems a bit of a ‘footer’, so I persuaded them a blog would be a good idea to bring news to the people in quick time. The intention is to have all these talented writers blogging and sharing their witty and clever observations with a wider audience.

What this space http://erskinewriters-uk.blogspot.com/

New website

Last week I heard about an interesting new website that is still in its infancy, but has the potential for greatness.

http://beta.booklamp.org/aims to find and recommend the right books for you. Using new analytical software the founder, Aaron Stanton, hopes to build a huge database of titles, analyse elements of each book and construct a sort of book DNA. Once this database is crammed full it should be possible to pick a book or books you particularly enjoy, and then start a search. Booklamp will give you a recommendation list. It is a bit like the recommendations Amazon do but based on the information you give Booklamp. No more being offered a crazy selection after you’ve Amazoned all your Christmas pressies.

Please be patient, Booklamp is still in its baby stages, they have only a short list on offer, mostly SciFi, but they aren’t claiming otherwise. They welcome people to join, have a play around and see their potential, and there is a forum that allows users to leave comments and ideas.

Book Heaven

The Bibliocafe, Woodland Road, Glasgow

This is a word of mouth sort of place, but now I know where to find it I am hooked. The Bibliocafe sits on the corner of Woodlands Road and West End Park Street in the vibrant West End of Glasgow.

The concept is easy. Before you leave the house, pick up those books you've read but won’t read again. Take books to the Bibliocafe. The lovely lady there will tell you how much the books are worth to her, you strike a deal. She gives you a credit note to the value of the books and you spend the next few hours drinking coffee, eating yummy cake and browsing the shelves for a quality second hand book to replace the ones you took along. If the value of your purchases does not meet the credit note, the note is marked up and you can use it next time around. Good eh?

I didn’t have any books to trade because I can’t bear to part with any printed material, but that didn’t stop me enjoying an organic ginger tea while people watching from the large picture window upstairs. Oh and I bought a book, well I had to. My request for The Poisonwood Bible has been in the library for six weeks and Bibliocafe had a once read copy for £3.00 – what would you have done?

Irrational Fears

Fifty First Timer No.10

Catch a spider

I know it may not sound much but it is for me. I suffer from arachnophobia. I have done since birth. I think my mother passed it on to me and my siblings. For people who don’t suffer there is no way to describe the cold dread that sweeps through me when, out of the corner of my eye, I first spot that black something on the carpet. It may be static or it may be wheeching along the skirting or worse across the floor towards me. I scream, I run for help.
A sighting in the bedroom is worst of all, especially when I am about to settle down into my cosy bed and there in the corner is a big black hairy legged creepy crawly. Can I risk leaving it; maybe once the light is out it will settle down? No way! It might head straight for me and clamber over the bedcovers to…To what?
Until last year, if there was no help at hand then I was reduced to dropping a heavy book on top of the poor wee thing. I am now only just capable of placing a large jar over the top of the spider and leaving it imprisoned until a knight arrives.
There is no rational explanation for my fear. I know spiders can’t hurt me, I even know that they can help. I didn’t realise this so much until I moved to the country. There are more flies in the country and spiders catch flies and eat them. Last year I decided the time had come to tackle this fear and be kinder to spiders.
I never kill them now. I let them alone to wander the house (out with the bedroom). I often startle a wee soul when I am hovering or washing the kitchen floor. ‘Go along little friend’ I say as I wait until they scuttle out of my line of vision.
Yesterday a medium sized intruder passed into the forbidden territory. There was no knight in sight. Right, I could do this I knew I could.
A large gherkin jar was carried forth and with sweaty palms and dry mouth I managed to coax Mr creepy crawly into the jar, I whipped the lid on and at arms length marched him out the front door to be spilled out onto the frozen path.
The next step for me is to tackle the monster species we attract in these parts. They wear balaclavas and tackity boots, but if left alone they die in a couple of days. I normally find them dried up behind the curtains waiting for the Hoover hose.
Maybe I will just leave them to nature.

Easter at the Ben Nevis Inn

No Room at the Inn

Fifty First Timer No.9

The forecast was ominous, snow and stormy winds. Ben Nevis, Britain's highest mountain was perhaps not the best planned venue to meet such weather. But the Ben Nevis Inn, crouched at the base of this giant proved to be the ideal doss.

We arrived on Good Friday to a check into the bunkhouse beneath the Inn. The bar was heaving with jolly hill walkers, but we were told by the harassed but cheerful staff that we would struggle to be served a meal.
'Oh no, I have been looking forward to coming here to eat.' I explained with genuine disappointment.
'We'll see what we can do, but you will have to go somewhere else tomorrow, we're full.' They had us eating grilled goats cheese followed by wild boar burgers within half an hour.

The bunk house consists of three sections opening out into a corridor. Each section has eight bunks. The kitchen is tight and the toilets scarce so it was just as well this club meet was small by normal standards. That evening Colin and I were joined by Lucy. Andy and Simon were to drive up on Saturday. The rest of the bunk house was filled with a mixture of foreign visitors, a group of five girls from Edinburgh and an assortment of walkers.

Colin met up with his climbing partner early next morning to catch the climber's Gondola up Aonach Mor. The cold weather had ensured fine winter climbing conditions on the Nevis Range.

Lucy and I, wary of forecast high winds, chose to explore the Glen Roy's parallel roads. These three parallel scores ring the glen like a series of tide marks in a bath and were caused by the formation of a glacial lake in different stages of freeze. Although from a distance they look like substantial tracks they turned out to be mere notions on a steep hillside.

On return to the Inn we were informed we had no chance of a meal, but then the owner decided we were a good bunch and yet again managed to accommodate us in between serving the Lochaber Mountain Rescue Team with chips while they took a break from a shout.

If you ever go to Fort William visit this delightful Inn and if they tell you they are full for dinner, put on a sad face. I am sure this friendly crew will fit you in somehow.

Highland hospitality is alive and kicking about at the bottom of Ben Nevis

Terrifying Times

Fifty First Timer No.8


Plant a tree


A fig tree to be exact. I love figs, I have a gallon of fig wine on the churn at the moment and I love to eat them with my porridge, but they come a long way from the growing fields to my table. I have no idea if my tree will bear fruit but I have to at least try.



Last year I grew blueberries in pots and once I managed to bring them in doors, into safety from the greedy birds, I cropped enough of this mega fruit to last at least a month. Not much I know, but I also planted a couple of gooseberry and black currant bushes this weekend. If I can supplement all by plonking in two apple trees and continue to scrounge plums from next door, I can then stew, bottle and freeze these fruits to last a while. I may just be able to reduce my fruit air miles a teeny fraction.


I also saved a tree. While pruning some over grown bushes I stumbled upon a spindly wee tree struggling to reach its head above the vigorous neighbours. I dug the runt out and gave it breathing space beside the gooseberries – I have no idea what this tree is but it looks happy.


The plan is to plant a buddleia too. No fruit but it is the best bush to encourage bees and butterflies back into the garden.






Fifty First Timer No.9



Step into the spotlight


On Saturday night I joined the Get Reel AllStars for an appearance on stage at the McLintock Hall, Balfron. This was part of the Rural Blend Festival organised by the Tolbooth, Stirling.

Get Reel is the traditional music group I attend each week to try and improve my guitar playing. Saturday evening was our annual performance as a group.

I trembled on stage along side my three fellow Get Reel guitarists, the Get Reel fiddlers and, thankfully, a couple of professional musicians. I have never been so terrified in my life. Our numbers rang out a series of missed notes but the audience didn’t seem to mind.

Once our slot was over the professionals took over.

First twins, Mike and Ali Vass treated us to a stirring set, playing the unusual combination of fiddle and piano. Mike is the quiet Get Reel fiddle tutor, but I found it hard to recognise that quiet man in the vibrant stage persona. He was born to perform.


After a short break, Lori Watson and the Rule of Three stormed the stage and treated us to traditional and experimental music from the borders. The trio of fiddle, accordion and a unique guitar playing style had the Balfron audience wondering how their small rural village had secured such a fine line-up.
Thank you Tolbooth for making it all possible.

The winter of change

I wanted to post a snowy photo of the hill, but tonight's stunning evening light was so pink the hill disappeared into the background. This photo was taken last year; the view is almost the same, minus the pink sky.


Fifty First Timer No.7

Attend a political meeting

Yes it’s true. I have almost reached the significant age of fifty and have never attended a political meeting, which is strange because there are so many causes that I feel passionately about. Maybe in my maturing years I will become a radical!

The meeting, 'Socialism in the 21st Century', was held in Glasgow University and organised by Rock Around The Blockade. The event had been brought to my attention by my mother in law who also attended with my niece. What I didn’t realise before the meeting was that it solely featured Cuba, a country I have been fascinated with since I read a book about the Bay of Pigs in school.

The representatives from RATB kicked off the proceedings with a propaganda rant that I could have done without. It was ‘comrade this’ and ‘comrade that’, I felt I had stumbled onto the film set of Citizen Smith. This tirade rambled on for ten minutes before the real speakers were introduced.

The first Cuban speaker was Yoselín Rufín Díaz, the twenty two year old President of the municipal Federation of University Students (FEU). She took her audience through systems of education in Cuba. With the exception of the twenty pupil class size what she told us appears similar to what is in place in the UK, but her enthusiasm and charm wafted over the audience and rose above the storm that raged outside. She inspired me so much I wanted to go back to school, but this time in Cuba.

The next speaker, Jesús Pastor García Brigos, had a magnificent soup strainer moustache which transfixed me. He spoke eloquently in English about the political systems in place in Cuba. It seems to me from what these speakers were saying that Cuba has implemented socialism in the way it was spelled out in theory.

Later Jesus answered a question raised by a secondary school pupil in the crowd about what made Eastern Block socialism fail. Jesus said that in Europe the Left have differing ideas. They need to agree on one idea and make that work.

From what I was hearing, I concluded that the Cubans may be poor, but they are all poor together within their sustainable economy and environment.
If I were Cuban and if the success story is true, I would build the blockade higher to prevent the invasion of the nasties of the so called developed world. Who wants trans-fats and market forces with all their evil trappings? The Cubans could end up like other developing nation and match the galloping diabetes statistics that now plague East Asia since they began eating crap processed foods.

The last speaker was worth battering through the streets of Glasgow in the torrential rain and force ten gale to attend this talk.

Orlando Borrego (Che’s pal)
What a charming man he is. Through the able translation of his candid interpreter, the charisma Borrego exuded transformed this political event into a one/two man show.

He used funny observations of his personal life and relaxed anecdotes about political giants Fidel and Chavez to explain the strong links between Cuba and Venezuela. But it was his Che Guevarastories that I could see enthralled the young kids in the audience and I couldn’t help but marvel at the legend of the Argentinean doctor.

I’m off to read ‘The Motor Cycle Diaries’


Just Read

The Pillars of The Earth by Ken Follett

Hurray, hurray, I have finished it, all 1076 pages of this epic tale of the building of a cathedral.

My son gave me the book as a Christmas present so I was mother bound to read it, but it has been a struggle. The story and the concept are reasonable enough but the writing is excruciating. The author finds it necessary to recap every few chapters. Either he thinks his reader are dense or he has forgotten the plot himself.

His characters are predictable and tinged with many shades of beige and the whole sorry tale is drenched in cliches.

This is probably the worst endurance test I have undertaken and I succeeded, I am so proud.

War and Peace will be a skoosh in comparison.




>The Nag

I am pleased to say the The Nag website have redeemed themselves. In their Mother's Day newsletter they recommended buying Fair Trade products as presents. I could find no profit in this for them. Keep it up chaps.

Fair Trade Fortnight

We are now in the middle of Fair Trade Fortnight, so I hope there is an extra push by the UK public to support this fine initiative. (My local Co-op stocks a huge range of their goodies including some decent wines).

It is just a pity Fair Trade's website was down at the beginning of the fortnight; hopefully is was due to high hits.