On the last evening of the saxophone week at Knuston Hall participants are invited to entertain their fellow players and this year I was involved in a couple of performances.

For one of those someone pointed an ipad at us and this is the result.

Stuart, in the pork pie hat, knows what he's doing but the rest of us are taking a leap into the unknown.

Personally I think the video is better viewed with your eyes shut.

Looking at this picture you may well feel that the arrangement would have benefited from a greater degree of symmetry.  Should that tall green thing on the right not have been balanced by a similar green thing on the left.  And by Jove there's a planter it could have gone in.

Up until Saturday night your aesthetic sensibilities would have been satisfied but during the hours of darkness the leftmost plant walked.  A few dead leaves lay strewn by the lift door on Sunday morning and the plastic inner plant pot lay forlornly in the lift.  But of the plant inside or outside the building there was no trace.

Now it wasn't a Triffid so it didn't walk of its own accord.  I suspect that one of those joyful inebriates who thinks it's a jolly jape to put traffic cones on the heads of statues emerged from a neighbouring flat and swiped it.

If I get my hands on him (or her don't let's be sexist about this) I'll take pleasure in planting its twin just where it hurts. 

Taken in Tayport,on a visit to the "ootermaist boonds o Fife".

I am convinced that a poem exists containing that phrase but it draws a blank in Google and its anglicized version leads only to a 2009 post in this blog.  Does anyone know?

My visit to Tayport and other faraway spots helped fill an hour or two before a lunchtime concert in St Andrews, one of the dozen or so places in Fife hosting the Fife Jazz Festival.  In the past I've just nipped over to Fife and back but this year there were a number of gigs in St Andrews or thereby that attracted me and not relishing a journey home starting at 11pm I stayed over for a couple of nights.

The expedition was well rewarded with stomping New Orleans numbers from Chris Barber.  That's the music he loves best but he's added strength to the band to equip it to move forward a decade or two and play Duke Ellington.  There was even one daring foray into the late 50s for a Miles Davis tune.  But New Orleans is where his heart is and who would wish to deprive him or his fans of the pleasure of its music.  Still gigging at 84, he deserves a medal.  Actually he's probably already got one.

Alison Affleck and Vieux Carré according to their blurb on Soundcloud are "true to the whimsical, evocative and slightly cheeky attitude of the late 1920s" and "offer up a hearty and delicious good cheer performance".  That's pretty accurate but she did throw in a few downbeat numbers, which aren't hard to find when you're singing Billie Holiday.

In Biggar a few years ago I heard Colin Steele play Chet Baker's music in the intervals between a telling of the trumpeter's life.  It was a great show so I was looking forward to Remembering Chet that again featured Colin Steele on trumpet but with the accent on Baker's vocal legacy.  I wouldn't say I didn't enjoy it.  The performances were excellent but the songs tended to be all on the one level and were downbeat to the point of being soporific.

You couldn't have slept even in the very comfy armchairs of the Byre Theatre Studio where the very loud and lively modern jazz of Strangeness and Charm, led by Richard Ingham on saxophones and wind synthesizer provided a necessary counterweight to the abundance of more traditional music on offer.

There were other gigs I'd love to have gone to but you can't be in two places at once.  It was very gratifying to be in the place I was in, since the Byre closed suddenly about a year ago throwing much into disarray.  I'm told that this weekend didn't herald a permanent reopening.  It will be open again for Stanza, the poetry festival, in March. After who knows.  Keep your fingers crossed.

Something else was threatened with closure last year but is still open, the St Andrews botanic garden.  It was new to me despite having been to the town umpteen times.  It's lovely and I'm very glad that it's still open.

There's another light show in town.  It ends today so rush to the Old Quad to see the terracotta warrior lanterns that graced the Beijing Olympics.  Try to get there at dusk because only the bodies are lit internally so the heads disappear a bit in the dark except for a few that are spotlit.

The only adjective that describes A Long Day's Journey into Night is bleak.

This drama of drug addiction, drunkenness, illness, miserliness, failure and disintegration spans a day in the Tyrone's summer home by the sea in Connecticut.  In the background mist rolls in from the ocean to the forlorn boom of the foghorn.

It doesn't make for a fun night out but the Lyceum do this masterpiece of the American theatre very well.

In contrast, although the sea was pretty frisky at Portobello earlier in the day and the clouds lowered and the rain fell, the atmosphere in the Dalriada Bar was jovial as the U3A Jazz Group jammed it's way through a dozen or so standards.

I'm a recent recruit to this ensemble and despite not having much of a clue about what I'm doing am enjoying the experience.

Blink and you'll miss it is not generally true of the display of major art works but almost invariably I find myself doing a last minute rush.  So it was no surprise to find that I was kissing goodbye to Rodin's chunk of marble on its last day in Edinburgh.

En route to the gallery I passed through St Andrew Square and discovered that lights were being planted.

The planter told me that the lights would be switched on the following night so after band practice I wandered home via the square and pitted my little camera phone against the darkness, no doubt to the amusement of those with seriously big cameras on tripods. 

Here's roughly the same view with the lights on:

It's not wildly exciting I admit but you're not getting the full picture. Yet.

Tonight I was at the National Library listening to a talk in which much lyrical prose and poetry was spilt in praise of Arthur's Seat and Calton Hill.  One speaker expatiated on the landscape and drew a picture connecting the mythological beliefs associated with the hill to the progress of enlightened and radical thought exemplified by its various monuments.

He found it particularly interesting to think of how the statue of James Clerk Maxwell gazing from the end of George Street to the hill on which he had played as a boy stood for that continuity and progress.

Now far be it from me to rudely, self-importantly and childishly correct a distinguished speaker (and I didn't) but I was pretty sure that James is looking the other way.  And indeed he is as I verified on my way home.

However I might just pass this information on to the distinguished speaker since it strikes me as an even better story to describe him as turning his back on the old beliefs and truths of his childhood to venture out into the brave new world of electromagnetism that underpins the modern age.

Handily I was at the St Andrew Square end of George Street and even more handily I had a camera with me (pre-planned I confess) so I wandered through the lights and took a few snaps, not really much better than the phone snaps in fact, but then it struck me that the perfect spot to get the whole picture would be Harvey Nicks.  So I whizzed up to the bar/restaurant on the fourth floor (wittily called the Forth bar) and here's the result.

Naturally I felt impelled to justify my presence and mitigate the sin of displaying a John Lewis plastic bag by making a small purchase so I had a glass of a rather tasty Gewurtztraminer.  It came all the way from Chile which is not really surprising given the large part that Germans played in the European settlement of the country.  Indeed my Chilean friend of Danish ancestry was educated at a German school.  But it's the first Chilean that I've tasted.  Not likely to be the last.

If you want to know more about the artist behind the light you can buy his book at Harvey Nicks for a mere thirty five quid or a mini book for a little less than half that. 

It's pretty unusual, not to say unknown, for me to watch a match of any sort when I already know the outcome.  When James Ward went down two sets to one in his Davis cup match I thought I knew the outcome and went off disappointed to bed.

So I was intrigued to wake up to the news that he had won and felt impelled to get onto the i-player and check it out.  Despite my now foreknowledge I was gripped and on the edge of seat as he drove his way to final victory.

What a great match and what a great lesson.  I'll stick out tonight's doubles to the end.

I don't like to see a Kirkcaldy man fail and feel the injury even more when he's also a Kitwe man.  However in the case of Dave Dempsey who came third in the race to represent Cowdenbeath at Holyrood my sadness is tempered by the fact that he was running in the Tory interest.

The brave chap is undeterred and I expect he'll be back in the saddle as soon as another opportunity presents itself, perhaps on the back of one of those wonderful warhorses that are strutting their stuff at the Festival Theatre.

Warhorse is a terrific spectacle: the horses are incredibly well manipulated by the teams of puppeteers and reproduce the characteristic actions of real horses to an unnerving degree.  The rest of the presentation lives up to that high standard with excellent use of projection, with spot on lighting and sound and faultless stage business. I was less admiring of the vocal presentation but maybe all this wind band stuff  I'm involved in nowadays has taken the edge off my hearing.

The story is as simple and as sentimental as all get out but even the most hardbitten audience member could hardly avoid a tiny touch of trembling in the tear ducts when boy and horse are reunited.

An excellent weekend at Dundee Rep taking part in a number of workshops in the RSC Open Stages project.

Remember the 2012 Olympics?  It was felt necessary to add a bit of culture to all the running about (and I don't mean the opening ceremony).  As part of the cultural hoohaa the RSC organised The World Shakespeare Festival and as part of that set up a collaboration with amateur theatre groups called Open Stages.

That finished in the summer of 2012 but a new edition, a true Olympic legacy, stretching from 2013 to 2016 is under way and Grads are taking part in it.  We are presenting a Gulf War informed production of Titus Andronicus in April 2015.

There's a lot of water to flow under the bridge before then but a number of us interested in that production were in Dundee to profit from RSC expert knowledge in movement, stage combat, text and acting.  Apart from learning and the great pleasure of working at Dundee Rep, especially in their beautiful main house, we were well fed and watered and had great fun.

To find out what we did, get to EGTG on Facebook and read Dan Sutton's excellent descriptions of the workshops.

It's not often that I buy clothes on the internet but having failed to find an overcoat that I liked in the shops I had a wee trawl.

What with 2014 commemorations of the First World War I rather fancied something like the one in the middle and tracked down a shop that sells military gear.

This is what I bought.

It's just dandy and not too far from the image above if not quite so dashing.  It came from Bulgaria and has brought me a benefit.  What would Mr Cameron say about that.

It is of course second hand but I'm pleased to report that it has been thoroughly cleaned.  However that's been done with chemicals that are possibly even now still toxic judging by the smell.  It's currently in the corridor outside my door and I'll be whipping it out onto the balcony for blasts of fresh air whenever it's not raining over the next few weeks.  

My saxophone teacher today suggested that I expand my Christmas glitter from one nail to ten and make them all different colours.  I'll bear that in mind if I make it to the X Factor.

My entertainment tips this week.

If two hours alone with Robert Redford's blue eyes and craggy beauty floats your boat then head for All Is Lost.

If that idea gives you a sinking feeling then enjoy sailing on the crest of the wave at Hansel and Gretel.

It turned out that there were participative events over the festive season after all.  I had been misled by assuming that the Christmas in Edinburgh brochure covered everything.  So apologies to whom it may concern.

Friends who were staying with me over New Year and I hastened off to the museum on New Year's Day to take part in this:

On the first day of 2014, set your compass and join us on a journey through Edinburgh’s Old Town, in the new, mystical and magical world of SCOT:LANDS - Discover nine incredible, new worlds, presenting the very best in music, art and theatre. Created and curated by Scotland’s most innovative artists and musicians.

The event was a bit overwhelmed by the number of participants.  When we arrived we had to join the longest queue in the world to:

Start your journey at HOME:LAND, the National Museum of Scotland, where you’ll receive a postcard with information about the first destination of your journey.
Pick up your own SCOT:LANDS map and Landing Card and travel with us on an amazing, cultural journey through the old Town – re-invented for just one day as our magical new world.

We only managed to visit two of these nine wonderlands but both were excellent.  They were:

HIGH:LAND Presented by The Ceilidh Place
Here in Edinburgh for the first time, experience the inimitable atmosphere and hospitality of one of Scotland’s most famously convivial venues, The Ceilidh Place. With music, songs and stories, bite into a rich and hearty slice of the North West Highlands, and enjoy a taste of local food and artisan beer. At the end of the A835 you’ll find the centre of the Highland Universe and one of the most dramatic landscapes in Britain.

NEW:FOUND:LAND Presented by The FOUND Collective
Edinburgh-based art collective FOUND will tap into the contemplative resonance and exquisite acoustics of Old St Paul’s Church. Experience a candle-lit musical performance which treats sound and silence as equals. Get lost in a languorous and dreamlike place in the company of some of our most enigmatic musicians.

We didn’t manage to win a free holiday when we got back to the museum at the end of the afternoon either but we did get a coffee and were entertained by the Portobello Ceilidh Band.

A good time was had by all.

I heard recently that when Christmas trees were first introduced into Britain they were crowned with flags of the Empire rather than with angels.  Not having any Empire flags handy I've had to improvise.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE

 

Although I was at the Cameo to see Falstaff at the weekend it had been a while since I'd been there to see a film.  The end of my Tuesday class for the term opened up the possibility of enjoying their silver screen session this week when for £2.80 I could see a film with coffee and biscuits thrown in.

I daresay that was what drew me to Saving Mr Banks since although I knew it had something to do with Mary Poppins I've never read any of the books nor seen the film and only recognize vaguely a couple of the better known songs.  I had no idea who Mr Banks was or why anyone would wish to save him, let alone make a film about it.

But what a lucky choice.  It's a super film. The story of the tussle between Walt Disney and the author of Mary Poppins, P L Travers, over making a film from her book is a fascinating one to start with.  Then Saving Mr Banks is beautifully shot in period, two periods actually since scenes from Travers' childhood in pre first war Australia are intercut with the progress of the 1961 Los Angeles script discussions.  Then it's superbly acted with Tom Hanks as avuncular Disney, Emma Thompson as frosty buttoned up Travers, Colin Farrell as Travers' wastrel father and an excellent supporting cast. Then it's moving, heart-warming, redemptive - you name it.  A great movie.

My only slight reservation has nothing to do with the film but with the Cameo's restored screen 2.  It used to be a long thin room with a not very big screen at one end.  It's still a long thin room but the seating has been swung round through 90 degrees and a substantial screen installed.  The result is that even in the backmost row the picture loomed pretty large and pretty bright.  My eyes were not very comfortable. 

But then I am used to what is thought of nowadays as pretty much a miniature TV screen.

Edinburgh's Christmas and New Year celebrations have changed this year.  The town looks lovely but some old favourites like the torchlight procession have gone and pretty well all that made it an individual and interesting place to visit in the way of street theatre and participative games has been replaced by commercial entertainment and augmented opportunities to eat, drink and spend money on more of the same tired old cheap jewellery, funny hats, wooden grotesques and healing Christmas candles.

A haiku  lamenting their failure of imagination should be carved into the skulls of those responsible.

There was no failure of imagination in how the conductor used his whole body to sweep the whole orchestra along in Lutoslawski's Concerto for Orchestra.  He waved his arms, bounced his head back and forth, threw his body from side to side and actually leapt in the air with arms stretched above his head as he brought the work to a conclusion.  He wasn't a young man either. 

I'd never heard this music before but I loved it and can see Lutoslawski rivaling Shostakovitch in my desert island selection.  One of the gems glittering in the silver lining that lies under my not having been recycled into August: Osage County is that I won't have to forgo the Shostakovitch concert I've a ticket for in May.

There was another musical treat for me last night when I saw the transmission of Verdi's Falstaff from the Metropolitan Opera.  This larger than life character was played by the very large Ambrogio Maestri who was wonderful.  The show is a riot of comedy and in this production the scene that culminates in Falstaff being toppled into the Thames from a laundry basket was simply stupendously staged and performed.

Maestri is obviously a keen eater but he's also a keen cook and his risotto was wheeled on during the interval entertainment.  Even more entertainingly he misunderstood the interviewer's request to try some and picked up a spoon ready to dig in himself.

I enjoyed a performance of Bach's Mass in B Minor last night with the added benefit afterwards, thanks to a group of fellow concertgoers on the 49 bus, of hearing about the imperfections that my cloth ears hadn't picked up.

One of their number was vigorously in favour of original instrument performance of such baroque masterpieces and if you are of the same mind you can catch one here.  Youtube tells you it's from the 2012 Proms but fails to credit the band.  The BBC archives reveal all. 

The Tommy Smith Youth Jazz Orchestra gave big band favourites a lusty outing at Summerhall at the weekend.  You might think that music is not old enough for more modern instruments to have crept in but they did have a keyboard instead of an acoustic piano. The bus man would surely have forgiven that.

Tommy's senior band, the SNJO, in their search for authenticity in their tribute to Duke Ellington go so far as to reproduce the microphone placings of the era as well as using an acoustic piano. It wasn't the one man, one mic democracy of today.

Grappling with self-assembly furniture has left me with this nice little pile to dispose off.  The half dozen bin bags full of polystyrene padding and other wrappings have already found their way to landfill.  This lot will need a special journey to the dump.  There is no way it will fit into our recycling bins.

I'm hoping to be recycled myself after this evening.  No sooner is one production over than the next gets on the road and tonight I'm auditioning for May's show.  It's an American play that won the Pulitzer prize in 2008 and was very well received when it crossed the Atlantic.

A film version of August: Osage County starring Meryl Streep opens in the States on Christmas Day and should arrive in the UK some time in January.  I've watched the trailer and it looks fun, although naturally our stage version will be even more fun, at least for the people taking part. 

Despite Julius Caesar taking up a lot of time I've managed to get to a few concerts in the last couple of weeks.  The RSNO did Britten's War Requiem which was a pretty impressive undertaking, needing a chamber orchestra, a full symphony orchestra, the organ, two choirs and three soloists.  You can imagine the amount of sound they were able to produce.

Another RSNO concert that I enjoyed very much featured the alto saxophone in a lovely melody played early in Rachmaninov's Symphonic Dances, after which the player had nothing to do except listen to the music.  Much better that way round than waiting for half an hour before blowing your first note.

On St Cecilia's Day there was a lunchtime concert in her very own hall in the Cowgate.  An eclectic selection of pieces played on acoustic guitar by Edinburgh born Adam Brown.

It was a small crowd at the first night of Julius Caesar but a good few more were in last night and both audiences seemed to enjoy the show.  There's a review here which I think is quite a fair one.  From my own point of view it was nice to have a complimentary comment on my performance especially since I haven't been so much as mentioned in a review since 2007, even though I've appeared in more than half a dozen since then.

Road to Perdition is a film I remember for two reasons.  One is that it looked superb.  Indeed it won an Oscar for cinematography.  The other is less complimentary.  I couldn't believe how much money, effort and talent had been applied to not very much at all.

Although most critics liked Feral on the Fringe its revival at The Traverse evoked much the same reaction in me as RtoP.  Planning and executing the show called for a great deal of thought, inventiveness, ingenuity and dedication.  But to what end?  To illustrate in a toytown fashion the dubious thesis that shopping centres lead to the destruction of civilization?

Running alongside Feral was Ciphers.  It wasn't Shakespeare but it was cleverly constructed, well written, well staged and well acted entertainment set in the world of spying. The actors did a great job, having in some cases to converse in Russian and Japanese.  I don't speak either of those languages but it sounded pretty kosher.  It would be straining credulity to say that an hour or two in GCHQ and a brush with a strange Foreign Office department gives me any insight into espionage but the story didn't appear too far-fetched.  Entertainment aside there was food for thought in how pressure might be exerted by "the authorities" on the man in the street in furtherance of so-called national security.

The second tranche of my salsa course is now over and I still can't dance it with any degree of confidence or skill but that's never stopped me enjoying the Gay Gordons so look out you Latin ladies.