Because I was at a rather unexciting dance show on Friday I had to pop over to Glasgow to catch the SNJO's concert of music by Charles Mingus.  It was well worth the effort.  It's hard for me to keep a bit of music in my head for a few minutes never mind long enough to compare concerts that take place months apart but this was surely one of their best.

The music was lovely for a start.  Arild Andersen guesting as Mingus was super as were the band and the quality of solos was terrific, especially Tom McNiven on trumpet, Allon Beauvoisin on baritone and Martin Kershaw on soprano.

That was my second trip to Glasgow this week.  It poured with rain both times, surprise, surprise.  Not a big deal when nipping up to the Conservatoire from Queen Street but queuing outside the Hydro for ages was less pleasant.  I was there to see Andy Murray Live, a charity event that was good fun.  A semi-serious singles in which Murray beat Dimitrov was followed by a not at all serious doubles.

It started off with the Murray brothers playing against Dimitrov (in a kilt) and Henman.  All four were miked up so there was entertaining backchat to listen to as well as extraordinary play to watch.  Their lightning reactions as the ball whizzed back and forth with all four at the net was simply amazing.  Substitutes were called for and Jamie went off to be replaced as Andy Murray's partner by Gordon Reid the wheelchair tennis gold medallist in what I thought was a stroke of PR genius. 

Other weel-kent faces appeared later but I was off through the rain in the hope of getting home by midnight which I achieved - just.

The weather at other times recently has been much better, at least in Edinburgh.  I spent a couple of hours pleasantly sipping coffee and reading on my balcony which I never managed to do during the so called summer and people were dancing in the open air at the foot of the Mound a week ago.  Here are pictures to prove it.

Mound Precinct Dancers

Dancers and Band

The incomparable Dick Lee on soprano sax

On the morning of the dancing day I took part in a local litter clean-up.  Not many took part and none other than me from Dicksonfield.  Neither my emails, the notice on our website nor the posters which I put up on all our noticeboards roused a soul.  They would claim to deplore litter I'm sure but put up with it nonetheless.

Is that some form of Sour Grapes on my part?  A highly entertaing form of Sour Grapes was a documentary of that name about a wine scam in the States.  A very personable young chap with what appears to have been an encyclopedic knowledge of wine and brilliant tastebuds made millions in the rarefied world of $20,000 bottles before being rumbled.  He's now in clink where I don't suppose he gets many tasting opportunities while his victims are pouring his plonk down the drain.  Silly them I say.

I swallowed a few glassfuls myself at a twentieth wedding anniversary celebration last weekend.  There wasn't any twenty grand stuff on offer as far as I know but everyone seemed very happy with £9.99 prosecco.      

We had the Dicksonfield Owners and Residents Association AGM last week and my position as secretary was unfortunately not contested so I'm in for another year not having the heart to leave them in the lurch.  The Grads have just entered the lurch secretary wise but I have been able to harden my heart against being sucked into that one.

I'm a bit of a Woody Allen fan and his latest film,  Cafe Society,  appealed to me greatly.  The costumes, settings and cinematography are super.  Performances and direction are excellent and the romance at the heart of it provides a very moving ending. I'd have given it four stars against The Guardian's three but that's fans for you.

I have to give plenty stars to Tickled, a documentary that delves behind the public face of the niche sport of competitive endurance tickling.  A New Zealand journalist came across some videos of young men tickling a strapped down fellow apparently in some bizarre competition and thought it would make a good subject for the cookie documentaries that he makes his living by creating.

Well as soon as he started digging lawyers letters and threats started arriving warning him off.  Three men flew in from Los Angeles first class to persuade him to drop the project.  Of course he didn't and has made a very enjoyable and interesting film of his search.  It would be a shame to reveal the end but have a look at the trailer and catch it if you can.

The windband term has been underway for a few weeks but other commitments had kept me away until the playaway day on Saturday.  I was the only alto sax there so was a bit exposed but survived and thankfully at Monday's regular practice there was another alto to share the load.

On a different musical note entirely I was with Claire and Siobhan at Lennoxlove on Sunday morning to hear a delightful concert by the Marian Consort under the title of Secret Singing.  The secret referred to was the continued practice of Roman Catholicism in post reformation England and it was the music associated with that by Byrd and others that they sang.  Such singing happened mostly in the stately homes of the Catholic aristocracy so the barrel-vaulted great hall of Lennoxlove was the perfect setting and our proximity to the singers added greatly to my enjoyment.  

Claire treated us to a lunch afterwards that featured scrumptious roast potatoes and delicious homemade apple pie.  The lunch stretched through the afternoon at which point my legs were stretched dog-walking in the Figgate Park which I must say was looking splendid and well cared for.  Indeed better cared for than it was when I lived on its edge.  

The end of the festivals has not heralded the end of cultural activities on my part.  For a start I've got back to the cinema where I had not been for ages.  I saw a reasonably interesting Latin American film called Desde Alla.  It told the story of a middle-aged guy who sought out the company of younger men in Caracas.  There was a homosexual element to it but it seemed mostly to be about his need for friendship, perhaps related to a difficult relationship (unexplained) with his father.

At one point in the film Armando (the older guy) tells Elder (the younger guy) that his father is alive but he wishes that he were dead.  As the friendship develops Elder declares that he will kill the father.  Armando makes no protest and Elder kills the father.  Subsequently Armando betrays him to the cops.  That didn't seem terribly fair to me.

But perhaps I missed a few nuances.  Elder asks at one point why Armando talks funny.  He explains that he was brought up elsewhere.  To me they both talked funny so it was a relief later the same day to see Julieta in which everyone spoke a vey clear and understandable Castilian.

Almodovar is a lauded film-maker and I've generally enjoyed his movies while at the same time feeling they were a bit odd.  This one is so straightforward I loved it.

Unlike The Shepherd Beguiled.   This was Theatre Alba's Fringe show presented at The Brunton for those who had been unable to or chose not to brave their open air performances.  I thought it might have been a production of theirs which I had seen and enjoyed years ago.  I don't think it was. At least I hope it wasn't because I thought it was pretty dire stuff unredeemed by the quality of performance.

Fringe shows apocryphally garner audiences of one or two.  The Jazz Romantics gig, while not a Fringe show, fitted this stereotype well.  The promised guest saxophonist hadn't made it so we had a band of four and an audience that for the most part consisted of the bass  player's wife or girlfriend and me.  Some others drifted in and out as the evening progressed but at its peak the audience consisted of no more than five.  Nonetheless it was an excellent gig and I hope to be there at their next outing on September 30th.