Nagasaki has a fine situation, a long inlet from the sea providing a safe harbour and a protective surround of hills.  No wonder it appealed to the Portugese navigators exploring the world in the 16th century.  The Japanese built an artificial island, Dejima, to act as a trading centre and living space for them.  When they expelled the Portugese the Dutch became the only western nation tolerated as traders until Japan opened up to the wider world in the second half of the 19th century.

One of my reasons for visiting Nagasaki was its historical role in relations with the west.  For anyone from Scotland the name of Thomas Blake Glover from Fraserburgh rings out.  He's particularly associated with the development of Mitsubishi.  His home in Nagasaki is a national monument and the homes of other Europeans important in the modernisation of Japan have been relocated to what is called the Glover Garden which is a brilliant place to visit.

A European house in the Glover Garden

Glover's House

 

Kids sporting Glover era dresses

The other fascinating historical place to visit is the trading island of Dejima.  It's no longer an island but the entire complex has been restored as a museum.  There is so much to see and learn.  I hadn't known for example that Japan was the world's leading copper exporter in the 18th century.  I don't suppose many Zambian Copperbelt (ex)residents do know. 

General view of some Dejima buildings

 

 

 

 

Model of Dejima

The copper story

I don't know anything about the historical significance of the paddle steamer in the next picture.  It may not have any but I couldn't get any nearer to investigate.  But I liked its look.

The main reason for anyone to visit Nagasaki is of course its status as one of the only two cities to have been attacked with an atomic bomb.  You don't hear as much about it as you do of Hiroshima.  Roughly twice as many died in the Hiroshima bombing and it has the doubtful honour of having been the first so maybe that's the answer.

Like Hiroshima Nagasaki has its peace park which is maybe a little lower key. than Hiroshima's  That could be why I missed the tram stop and found myself wandering the long way round a baseball stadium then a football/rugby ground until I found the place.  Even then it was only part because a road runs between the commemorative area and the place which was the epicentre of the bombing.  Not that in the context of a nuclear explosion laying waste to 43 sq.miles such a distinction makes much sense.

Commemorative statue enjoining peace

 

 

The remains of a prison that stood there before the bombing

Peace fountain

Yesterday was ice-cream weather and I enjoyed a cone but today the weather was foul.  I went to the pictures.  Called The Amateur it was a reasonably enjoyable story about a CIA computer cryptology nerd whose wife is murdered in a terror attack.  He blackmails some top level CIA managers into facilitating his pursuit of the baddies by threatening to expose their own baddy activities.  It follows the sort of course you'd expect and you marvel throughout at what you can do with a smartphone and some everyday chemicals.

First port of call

I'd booked flights to Tokyo with the objective of arriving there early in the morning so that I could get onto a train and move to the South of the country.  That meant unfortunately that I was going to have to get a very early flight from Edinburgh.  They've mucked about a bit with the night bus services since you used to be able to get on a N22 in Leith walk and go straight to the airport.  You can't do that now.  You have to get one of the fewer and less frequent night buses up to town and transfer to the airport bus.

I also thought I'd better try and get some sleep since I'd be leaving the house in the middle of the night so I went to bed in the afternoon but I didn't sleep and ended up staring at the television until after two in the morning when I set off for the airport.

I didn't get any sleep on the journey either down to London or from London or Tokyo so by the time I got to Tokyo I was knackered.  The immigration was really busy but we surged quite quickly through it.  I had some trouble with the machines.  They've taken my photograph and my fingerprints twice before so I don't know why they wanted them again but they did.  My right index finger is a challenge to the machine.  I believe the reason for that is that I've been poking at keyboards and screens for over 60 years with that finger and that's probably worn off the indentations.

Anyway I got through and quickly on to Shinagawa and straight onto a shinkansen only two hours and nineteen minutes after landing.  Five sleepless hours later I was in Fukuoka.

Google took me to a point where it expected my hotel to be.  It wasn't there but a helpful receptionist from the hotel that was there walked me back a couple of streets to the right place.  I was really tired by then so I went to bed and slept for 5 hours.  I was supposed to be having a Japanese lesson online that evening but Momo was trapped in her office so I went back to bed.

On this trip I'm going to meet up with Keita who was my AirB&B host in Kanazawa two years ago.  I'm travelling there on a public holiday so thought it wise to book a train seat in advance and booked online.  The app I was using promised a QR code in a day or two.  Meantime Keita had booked a lunch.  Unfortunately my arrival time was after the lunch booking time and that couldn't be changed apparently.  So I needed to change my train.  I didn't fancy my chances of doing that online.  I would in any case need physical tickets to travel so set out to obtain them from a machine in the station.  The instructions had seemed quite daunting but it turned out to be easier than I'd anticipated.

Next step was to queue up at the counter.  When I got served I was immediately told I was in the wrong place.  My ticket was a JR West ticket and this was the JR East counter.  The queue at JR West was longer but they had a take a ticket and a seat system.  I had ticket 276 and customer 250 was being dealt with so it was a fair wait. 

I told my tale and the guy started talking about money.  I said that I bought the ticket online then I thought maybe he needs to be sure that I ddin't pick this ticket up in the street so I pulled out the receipt that had been printed alongside the ticket.  This didn't seem to satisfy him but then a supervisory person came along whose English was a lot better than my Japanese and everything got sorted out.

Time for tourism now.  I set off to check out what was billed as old Hakata.  When I left the subway station I discovered that I couldn't see anything through the camera.  Tourism without pictures not being desirable I retained Google's services to find a camera shop.  This entailed going back to the station and following the little blue dot.  It took me to a spot where I could see no camera shop. I was outside a department store so I popped in and asked if they knew the shop.  It's on the fifth floor they said.

The very cheery and helpful chap in the shop analysed the problem pretty swiftly and cured it by screwing up a bit of paper and rubbing it over the gold contacts on both the camera body and on the lens.

I abandoned old Hakata for the moment and since there was a bookshop in the store went there in search of a book that I knew someone whose Youtube video lessons I occasionally see had written.  What do I need with another Japanese textbook you ask.  You're right of course.  They didn't have it.  Neither did the one further along the road but the one on the sixth floor of the bus terminal did.  

Next I took to the subway again and fetched up at a rather pleasant big park, Ohori Park, where I just sat about in the warm sunshine people watching.  Everyone there, young and old, strolling, picnicking, kicking a ball, navigating the lake in a pedallo relaxed and at peace.  Why can't the world's assorted dictators, warmongers, terrorists etc get with that vibe?  I'll never understand.

Pedallo in the park

Back at the hotel I switched on the telly to see what if anything I could understand.  Nothing really and everything was dross until I discovered the World Team Trophy Figure Skating competition was being beamed in from Tokyo featuring several of the people whose skating I'd enjoyed at the recent competition in Boston.  That was great.  

One of the tourist leaflets I'd browsed through recommended a trip to Nokonoshima so I went on Fiday.  It started with a forty five minute bus trip through Fukuoka that was interesting in itself.  Then the short ferry ride and a trip up to the top of the island in an overcrowded bus hanging desperately onto a strap while some strapping teenager lounged in one of the old codgers' seats.

It was an odd place.  A fine spacious park with lovely views out to sea and back to the mainland.  There are a number of retaurants and shops, plenty of picnic opportunities, barbecue facilities and a pleasant set of holiday rental villas.  There were lots of school parties enjoying a day out. The oddity really was the municipal flowerbededness of it  Everywhere lovingly planted and cared for beds of tulips, daffs, azaleas and other Spring flowers.  They change the displays with the seasons.

Flower bed heaven

On my last full day in Fukuoka/Hakata I got back to checking out Old Hakata or at least the temple strewn part of it.  It's extraordinary how these ancient buildings are sprinkled in amongst skyscrapers and parking lots.  Some of the buildings that look like temples are actually people's houses. 

A street of elegance

 

Gracious temple garden

 

 

Couldn't get near this pagoda for modernity

The long running saga of roof repairs is reaching its terminal stage with scaffolding now up on the last blocks, including mine.  Mind you it may take a little while for the presence of roofers to succeed that of scaffolders.

It's amazing what can be done with scaffolding and it's even more amazing what can be done with pianos, as has been illustrated often by Pianodrome.  I was at a show in their Granton warehouse last night.  The  Strawmoddie Theatre Company presented a superb production of Peter Schaffer's Amadeus. 

The tiered amphitheatre made from old pianos had a grand piano at its centre.  The action took place around, on and below the grand and overflowed onto steps and into exits. From my front row seat I was never more than a couple of feet away from the actors, a vantage point that reveals all performance flaws.  There were none.  The acting really was terrific with Ben Blow (Salieri) and Caitlin Carter (Mozart) outstanding.  Costumes were gorgeous and Dug Campbell's sound magnificent in both its design and implementation.

The SNJO teamed up with Indian percussionist Trilok Gurtu in a concert of his music, some of it very jazzy and some not.  He can do wonders with a tin bucket of water.  Leaving that novelty to one side we had some fine solos from SNJO players. Konrad Wiszniewski seldom disappoints and provided a lovely melodious stretch of saxophone smoothness.  Somewhat surprisingly Tommy Smith showed us what a fine player he is with a similarly musical solo on his first time up but subsequently reverted to his favoured style of rapid racing up and down the instrument stretching it to its limits.  It's undeniably brilliant but not always a comfortable listen.

I spent a weekend with a bunch of slightly less accomplished saxophonists at Strathallan School where we have found refuge from the financial uplift that The Burn has found it necessary to implement.  lt's not a bad substitute, a little bit spartan and in bad weather moving around from one building to another as we had to would I fear advance from irksome to miserable.  But the musical activities were ample compensation.

They do good business in the holidays.  Apart from us there were around 100 from the National Youth Orchestra of Scotland, maybe the same number from Tennis Scotland and an American Football team from East Kilbride.

Because of that weekend I was unable to attend The RSNO's Friday concert in the Usher Hall but I was keen to hear Jess Gillam play Anna Clyne's sax concerto and the Shostakovich symphony that was also on the programme so I went up to Dundee where they were playing on the Thursday.  The concert was great and I'm glad I went  but the journey home left much to be desired.

From seeing a train pull away as I approached the platform to delays to subsequent trains and a rerouting of the train I eventually got on I didn't get to Waverley until half past midnight and just caught the last bus down to Elm Row.

When I had my lounge and hall redone last year I thinned out my bookcases and laid aside some Italian stuff from my time as a U3A group leader intending to offer it to a friend who was then running a U3A Italian class. Time passed without action until I bumped into Maureen and her husband at an NGS talk.  She's still running a class so the other day I popped along to her flat and passed the material on. Job done at last.

The NGS talk concerned was called The Villa Rusticus: Ancient Roman Villas and the Garden Ideal.  I had expected lots of slides showing the likes of Hadrian's villa and its policies but instead Dr Alley Marie Jordan focused much more on the philosohical ideas of the Romans in relation to their gardens and their way of life.  It was a lively and entertaing presentation that I enjoyed very much.  I don't expect I will ever read Alley Marie Jordan's book but she was such a enthusiastic and witty speaker that I think it deserves a shout out.  Classical Taste in the Architectural World of Thomas Jefferson.   If someone can persuade Trump to read it the world might be a better place.  For a squint at the writer try here.

Watching TV one evening I saw that well known historian Lucy Worsley presenting a programme about the persecution of witches in Scotland centred around events in East Lothian. She visited St Mary's church in Haddington during the programme which encouraged me to have a wee outing to Haddington the following day.  I took one of the more circuitous bus routes which I enjoyed and had a good potter around Haddington.  I didn't get into the church.  It was locked which churches didn't used to be but I had a good day and an excellent three course lunch plus a G&T for just under £20.  I don't think you will find that value in Edinburgh.

The BBC announced their limited coverage of the World Figure Skating Championships and I stuck it in my diary.  Then I discovered that the whole thing was being streamed live on Youtube.  I didn't watch it all by any means but I did see a lot and it was fabulous.  Apart from seeing Britain get its first world level medal since Torvill and Dean won Olympic gold in 1984 there was lots to enthuse about.  The women's figure skaing medalists Alysa Liu (gold) and Kaori Sakamoto (silver) I found particulary wonderful.  You can still see it all if you search Youtube.

 I enjoyed it so much and was so disappointed by the options and prices offered to me for the 2026 Winter Olympics that I promptly booked myself a week in Sheffield at the European Championships in January for very little money.  I hope to see our ice dancing pair Lewis Gibson and Lilah Fear come out on top.

The National Galleries held a series of talks called Stuart Portraits: Power and Politics that I found most interesting.  Portraiture is something I know more or less nothing about and even less about its connections to politics. David Taylor filled in some of these blanks with respect to Mary Queen of Scots, to the collection of Bess of Hardwicke (who was Mary's jailer for many years), to Catherine of Braganza (Charles II's consort) and to James VII and II and his first wife Anne Hyde. 

He explained how the poses and contents of such portraits were symbols of many significant elements of temporal and spiritual power or status.  Copies were frequently made and distributed to reinforce the sitters' social and political position.  The gentry would undoubtedly have sight of them but I'm not sure that the man in the street or in the rural hovel would.  I guess that explains how Harry could wander incognito around the troops on the eve of Agincourt.

By the time I heard about Confessions of a Shinagawa Monkey its short run in Glasgow and Dundee was almost sold out.  Fortunately I got a seat at the matinee at Tramway.  This was such a beautifully staged and performed play created from two short stories by Haruki Murakami about a monkey who falls in love with women. Despite being able to speak he can't form relationships with them and steals their names instead. 

It was a joint Japanese Scottish production by Vanishing Point and KAAT from Yokohama.  You can get a flavour of the show from this "making of" video.  You should set the subtitles to English unless your Japanese is many orders of magnitude better than mine..

In Glasgow again I went with Ross to the Conservatoire to see a production by second year drama students of Agamemnon's Return.  This is the first part of This Restless House, Zinnie Harris's version of The Oresteia by Aeschylus.  It was very good.  The entire cast performed well.  I thought the girl who played Clytemnestra was particularly good.  The RCS production was not quite so bloody as the original production which Ross and I saw at The Citizens in 2016.  The Guardian at the time loved it as we did.  

Back in Edinburgh Wild Rose at The Lyceum has earned plaudits from a plethora of critics.  I can't say that I thought it all that wonderful.  The story of the less than perfect young mum's aspirations to be a country singer, her trip to Nashville against the odds and her final return to settle in the bosom of her family in Glasgow failed to wrench a tear from my eye.  The music was fine though.

Although I've been to a few race meetings in the past I can''t say I've found it particulary wonderful so it was a bit of a surprise to me to enjoy the Cheltenham Festival as much as I did.  But then don't you always get a better view of sporting events on the telly!

I felt like going to the cinema yesterday so I nipped up to the Cameo to redeem one of my member tickets and found that a Catalan Film Festival was taking place.  So I went to see that evening's offering.  It was an excellent, entertaining and humorous story of a family gathering at a house in Cadeques, a house that the matriarch intends to sell.  Her ex-husband is resolutely set against it for his own reasons.  Their daughter and family, their son and current girlfriend, the ex-husband's girlfriend are all there and all contribute to the jollity, recriminations, fighting and making up that fill the screen very enjoyably culminating in the nuclear family being left alone watching the house burn. Casa en Flames it's called.   

 

There's a radio programme called Scotland Outdoors broadcast early on a Saturday morning that I quite often hear as I drift in and out of wakefulness.  An item on the Winchburgh Willow Cathedral caught my attention and I set off one day to see it for myself.

I had expected something a little bigger than the construction that appears in the photograph. Indeed I walked past it thinking "surely that can't be it" , my eyes scanning the horizon as the driving rain swept over a well-nigh deserted Auldcathie Park.  A couple of young lads planting trees denied all knowledge explaining they were Glaswegians imported daily for the purpose.

After some more fruitless wanderings I decided that the structure I'd seen must be the cathedral and went back to it where I came across a park maintenance crew one of whose members turned out to have been a contributor to the broadcast I'd heard.  We chatted for a bit and agreed that it would be worth coming back once there is some foliage on the structure.

Like the cathedral the park is just getting off the ground as it were with extensive tree planting and other work going on.  The area outside the park was thick with recently built houses and many more were under construction. They've opened a marina off the Union Canal and have lots of other development plans. It's a growing place and while road access to the M9 is good the townsfolk want a railway station.

I've been to a variety of musical events in the past few weeks.  The RSNO gave a sublime performance of Mahler's 9th Symphony which I don't believe I've ever heard live before.  The last movement was extraordinarily beautiful.  The SCO and their chorus performed Fauré's Requiem and Vaughan Williams' Five Mystical Songs.  The fine baritone Roderick Williams was soloist and it was a lovely concert.

Described by Wikipedia as a jazz singer Madeleine Peyroux seemed to me much more poppy.  The gig was pleasant enough but I wouldn't rush to hear her again.  A friend suggested her recorded music is a more rewarding listen. One thing I did admire though was the version of A Man's a Man for a' That with which she opened. Nicely spiced with topical digs, replacing Burns' "birkie ca'd a lord" for example with reference to Trump.

More recognisable, to me at least, as jazz was Helena Kay's quartet at the Queen's Hall.  I could have done with a few more upbeat numbers (the music was generally restrained) but the tune she finished with, called Virago, from an upcoming CD, promised the prospect of vigour.  Her guests Norman Willmore and Corrie Dick played the first set of the gig, a set of tunes on sax, drums and computer based on Shetlandic folk music.

The fruits of The Lyceum's 2024 trip to New York was a performance of The Merchant of Venice here in Edinburgh by Theatre for a New Audience.  I went intending to enjoy the post-show discussion as well as the performance but it finished quite late and I hadn't been so appreciative of the show that I wanted to know more so I just shot off home as the curtain fell.  This is quite an extensive review and I agree with more or less everything it says.  I'm glad to see it too thought the hints at an Antonio Bassanio homosexual element overdone and the Jessica Lorenzo relationship twisted a degree out of shape.   

There's an interesting little exhibition on at the Central Library about the renovation of the North Bridge. Should be finished this year - yippee!  While I was there I noticed a poster advertising a meeting of the Open History Society about political jokes under Stalin.  I went along.  It was very well attended, at least 80 people I'd say.  It was entertaining.  The speaker, Jonathan Waterlow, has written a book called It's Only A Joke, Comrade in which he discusses not only the jokes people told but why they ran the risks associated with joking in 30s Russia. I enjoyed the talk and the jokes but didn't buy the book. 

A book I did buy recently, prompted by a post on Facebook is This Was My Africa by June Kashita.  Andrew Kashita was Minister for Mines when I arrived in in 1974.  He had married June when he was a student in UK and they went to live in what was then Northern Rhodesia in 1962. The book covers their life together, personal and political from then to 1978 when she left the country plus a further chapter covering a visit she made in 2020 just after Andrew's death though that wasn't what had prompted the visit.

I found the book totally fascinating and raced through it. Lots of public figures whose names and to some extent whose lives I knew something about feature as well as a couple of people I knew personally.  The story of the transition from colony to independent country and the subsequent trials, tribulations and successes is very interesting.  It's doubly interesting having seen or heard of events from the expatriate point of view to see them from the inside. It's similar in that respect to how I felt about Andrew Sardanis's book that I read a while ago.

On radio I've been enjoying Czar of Hearts about  Vladimir Romanov's tenure at Heart of Midlothian.  It's a hoot with more to come since the series hasn't finished yet.  While I was living in Nairobi the BBC produced a TV version of A Scots Quair. Some time last year I saw the first part, Sunset Song when I think it cropped up on BBC4 and have now seen the other two, Cloud Howe and Grey Granite thanks to iPlayer.  Wonderful stuff.

Just last night I saw a programme about Armando Iannucci and learnt that The Thick of It is now on iPlayer, 23 episodes in total.  I shall be rooted to my couch till I've watched them all. 

I was out for a walk one afternoon and wandered into the docks where I came upon this big boat. It's 212 metres long.  What was the Spirit of Tasmania IV doing in Leith Docks I wondered. 

Research uncovered a situation that to a degree rivals the Scottish ferry fiasco.  Built in Finland it's been moved to Leith to protect it from winter ice conditions which, being destined to ply between Tasmania and the Australian mainland, it was not built to withstand.  It couldn't go to Tasmania because its home port doesn't have the infrastructure to take it and won't have for a couple of years or more.  So the owners are paying us good money to house it.  The large figures in this report are I believe Australian dollars. 

I've been at odds with BT for some time because of the ludicrous amount they've been charging me for broadband since my contract with them ended.  I eventually decided that enough was enough so signed up with Sky.  No sooner had I done so than Hyperoptic, the availability of whose service in my building has been anticipated for a while, pitched up at my door with an excellent full fibre deal.  So I ditched Sky and am now using Hyperoptic.  The one fly in the ointment is that despite announcing that my old landline number would be transferred, so far it hasn't been.

The recent storm blew inconveniently for me.  I was due to have lunch in Glasgow with Andrew and go to a lunchtime gig at the conservatoire but first the gig was cancelled then all public transport so I had to stay at home.  Nothing much in the public realm in Edinburgh seems to have been damaged although I believe the Botanic Gardens has suffered.

I was at an SCO concert that featured a Sibelius symphony and his violin concerto which was a very enjoyable evening.  I had reservations about another of their concerts where the music was more spiky.  The centrepiece was called Ad Absurdum that demands pretty nifty trumpet playing.  You can listen to it and follow the music here or without the music here.

More conventioal was the SNJO's evening in the Usher Hall that spotlighted half a dozen young talents.  It's terrific that we have so many excellent young players/singers and worth acknowledging how much Tommy Smith has contributed to bringing that about through his youth band and jazz education at the Conservatoire.  However I don't find the Usher Hall the most sympathetic space in which to listen to jazz.

I had an excellent Japanese meal at Kanpai before the concert. With a fellow saxophonist, jazz fan and Japanese food enthusiast I'm working my way through Edinburgh's Japanese restaurants. 

I wonder if Burns has much traction in Japan.  Their food is so wide ranging it would be interesting to see what they might produce to celebrate our national poet.  The thought comes to mind because of the extremely tasty Burns Supper that Phil and Claire produced this year.  It wasn't a straight haggis, neeps and tatties but delicious.  Indeed I'd say it was an improvement on the traditional.

Many of you may be familiar with the novel Behind the Scenes at the Museum. I'd never heard of it when I came across a radio dramatisation which I enjoyed a great deal.  In its peculiar way it's a family saga.  I'd like to read it but my pile of books waiting to be read is too big for the time being.  I'm trying to get through it but when I do read a book I don't always remember much about it.  A case in point cropped up the other day.  I had read Conclave by Robert Harris a while ago and I went with Ross and Claire to see the film.  In such a circumstance I'd expect things to come back to me as the film rolled on.  Maybe one thing did or maybe it was a fairly obvious conclusion to draw from the action. Otherwise zilch.

On my birthday Ewan went off to St Anton for a week's skiing.  I went to the Cameo to see Tokyo Godfathers. It's the second time I've seen it and I'd go again. It's a great Christmas story about three homeless people who find an abandoned baby on Christmas Eve and set out to find its mother. I don't know whether Japanese cinema audiences flock to see It's a Wonderful Life around Christmas as people do here but if they do they should dump it in favour of Tokyo Godfathers.  In the evening I went to Claire's for her traditional drinks party.

Nothing much happened then till New Year's Eve.  Edinburgh's outdoor festivities were cancelled for fear of being blown away.  This didn't matter to me personally but it's a shame for visitors (at least the tourist tax wasn't in operation)  and no doubt was a financial blow to the town.  Ewan, back from the slopes, and I found ourselves at Claire's for her traditional gathering and got home full of delicious food which had been suitably washed down at an appropriate hour.

On New Year's Day we went to see the Turner watercolours. This year the Scottish National Gallery and the Irish National Gallery who had both been recipients of a number of Turners through the generosity of Henry Vaughan had swapped their holdings so the pictures were all new to me and I guess to most of the people who'll come to see them this January.

We ate at Vittoria's that evening in honour of Ewan's departure the following morning.

My next treat was a return visit to the Kimono exhibtion at the V&A in Dundee. I had company this time and enjoyed a bonus in the shape of a Japanese inspired afternoon tea.  Siobhan took a couple of pictures which I've pinched

My usual activities are resuming.  The band started up again and I went to the Queen's Hall for my first concert date of the year.  I was somewhat surprised to find the place locked and bolted. Had the gig been cancelled and no notice given?  Should I have been at the Usher Hall?  I've made that mistake before.

None of the above.  When I checked my ticket I discovered that the concert had taken place in the afternoon, unusual in the Thursday evening concert season and something that had simply not registered with me when I booked up. I gnashed my teeth and went home to a book.  

Although I didn't see more of it than clips on the news I was well aware of the recent World Darts Championship and the excitement that the young Luke Littler, nicknamed Luke the Nuke, created.  Television audiences were thrilled. 

Television and darts are natural bedfellows in the entertainment world but wouldn't seem a natural retail combination.  But there's been a shop in Leith Walk for years whose shopfront declares them to be a darts and television emporium.  Luke the Nuke seems to have been good for them.  On Saturday afternoon  as I passed it on my way home not only was it full but there was a queue on the pavement waiting to get in.

There's a TV series called Villages by the Sea which I stumbled on recently.  I saw about 90% of the episode devoted to Culross and enjoyed it thoroughly.  There are 37 episodes on iPlayer at the moment and I may well make an effort to see them all. I believe that I visited Culross sometime in the dim and distant past but I've been on the verge of visiting again for many years.  This programme tipped me over the edge and I took advantage of yesterday's lovely sunny weather to go.

It was a good trip.  I spent a couple of hours pottering about in the village and by the shore.  Disappointingly the Palace was closed.  That's what it's called but in truth it's a 16th century house built by George Bruce who was an innovative industrialist of the time. The National Trust for Scotland who look after the building don't say on their website why it's closed or when it will reopen but I must go again when it is.

It's a lovely spot and sitting by the Forth as it does you get some lovely views to the southern shore of the firth but you need to nurture a blindspot to avoid the smokestacks of Grangemouth.  That's the picture at the top of this post.  Fortunately or perhaps not those smokestacks may vanish in the near future as Scotland's industry further contracts.  We need a new George Bruce.

Good to see that the Omni Centre giraffes are being looked after as the weather gets colder.  I had a wee visit to the zoo recently although I didn't climb all the way up the hill to see the giraffes. My objective was actually to see Honshu, the macaque who escaped from the Highland Wildlife Park a few months ago.  As a punishment or perhaps a reward he's been rehomed at the zoo where he's been joined by half a dozen others, including a couple from the Netherlands.  They all seemed to be having fun.

I've had a fair bit of fun myself in recent weeks what with concerts and meals out and films and theatre and of course rehearsals and ultimately performances of the Grads 70th anniversary Christmas show, Baba. That was one of Claire's creations full of entertaining characters and dialogue.  The cast enjoyed it, audiences enjoyed it but critics kept their enthusiasm under control.

There were two excellent choral works, Carmina Burana and Bach's Christmas Oratorio from the RSNO and SCO respectively and an Ellington evening from the SNJO/TSYJO.  The latter featured charming and accomplished vocalists, one from Glasgow and one from Leeds; rising stars we'll hear more of I'm sure.

As part of Edinburgh's celebration of being 900 years old (who knew and what counts as its birth point?) the Netherbow held a Scottish Theatre weekend.  The Saturday afternoon events consisted of a talk about the history of Scottish theatre, a chat about the EIF and a presentation on the refurbishment of the King's Theatre going on just now.  All very interesting.  I even bought a book by one of the speakers.  In the evening there was a oneman play called A Noble Clown about Duncan Macrae written and performed by  Michael Daviot. Macrae was a wonderful actor and the play provided a wonderful hour of skilful, witty and illuminating insights into the man and his achievements. 

There's an interesting series of podcasts about the history of Scottish drama, sponsored I think by The Traverse, available here. Naturally I was drawn to the episde about Losing Venice because I loved the play when I saw it and subsequently directed it. As director I employed two stratagems of which I was very proud but the review in The Scotsman (those were the days) scoffed at one and ignored the other.  I failed to be disheartened.

An event in the history of Scottish theatre, minor I admit but significant for me, taking place next year is that Arkle will complete 25 years of productions and will exist no more.  I was at their annual social gathering where next year's programme and this news were announced.  I've only performed for them a few times but have enjoyed the experience and admire what they've done. I'm sorry to see the company leave the Scottish amateur theatre scene.

One of my saxophone playing friends is very keen on and knowledgeable about Japanese food.  She's often suggested we try some of Edinburgh's Japanese restaurants and a week before we went to the Ellington gig we managed to get to Satoru where we had a very tasty meal. I had another very tasty meal out, this time with Claire, Siobhan and Ross at Lyla where dishes are many, presentation is exquisite, portions are small and prices are high. Claire and I also ate very well at Siobhan's one Sunday after a Baba rehearsal.  We'd been rehearsing at King's Buildings barely a hefty stone's throw away from her flat. 

I've seen a couple of films recently.  Both were set in Africa but were dramatically different.  Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat is a brilliant documentary that explores the mixture of jazz and geopolitics surrounding the emergence of the Belgian Congo from colonial rule. The film gets lots of stars from The Guardian here and here.  Wikipedia has some factual words to say.  Two music writers take stands for and against the film's treatment of jazz.  All those comments are of interest. I've bought no less than two relevant books as a result of seeing the film!

I won't be buying any books as a result of seeing On Becoming a Guinea Fowl. I didn't think much of it but it has earned praise from more perceptive filmgoers than me here and here. I did enjoy the joke about the Zambian police transport availability though.

Ewan and I went down to Keswick for a pleasant visit.  Ben came over from Hebden Bridge as well and train times were close enough for Connor to pick the three of us up together.  There had been an accident on the A66 so at one point we took a diversion, two diversions in fact because on the first one we came across a lorry stuck and blocking the road. It was a lovely valley we went through, very dramatic at points and not somewhere I'd ever been before.  It's not often you're happy to be delayed but on this occasion I was.

I've got two dramatic incidents at home to report.  One day noisy sirens caused me to look out of the window.  Half a dozen police cars were tearing along Brunswick Road.  They screeched to a halt just short of Dicksonfield, armed policemen jumped out and raced out of my sight.  They wandered back within seconds.  Some cars left smartish.  Others hung about for a while but I could glean nothing nor did the internet come up with an explanation.  False alarm.

In the other drama I was involved. For reasons never explained a cyclist placed himself in front of a number 11 bus I was on preventing the bus from leaving a bus stop. The driver was happy to shout at the cyclist, well not happy in the sense of enjoying, but not willing to engage in discussion with him.  I got involved to the extent of replacing the cyclist thus preventing the bus moving off while the cyclist attempted to engage the driver from the pavement.  But the driver was having none of it. Passengers meanwhile were leaving the non-sinking bus despite the driver's pleas for them to remain and declarations that the police were on their way.

Maybe like the Zambians they had transport problems for they didn't arrive before the cyclist lost heart and pedalled away allowing the bus to continue its journey.