I've never been keen on The Duchess of Malfi and Zinnie Harris's version at The Lyceum did nothing to make me warm to it, excellent production though it was.

My minor participation in The Lark was not informed by anything so grand as research into the subject of the play although I did buy a book about Joan of Arc in a fit of mild enthusiasm.  After the run I got round to reading it.

A super book much to be recommended.  Joan of Arc: A History by Helen Castor is quite scholarly, (over 20% of it is notes and bibliography and the like), but it reads like a novel and a gripping one at that.  I'd always understood that thousands of Scots marched with Joan and indeed thousands of them were in France fighting the English in the 15th century but it seems that practically all of them had died in battle before she set out to ride to the rescue of France.  Another illusion shattered.

I've been a member of the General Council of the University of Edinburgh for over 50 years which is no great accomplishment since the council consists of all graduates and all academic staff but it sounds quite grand if you don't know that fact.  They meet twice a year and this year was the very first time that I've attended a meeting though I have thought about it from time to time.

The meetings generally have an add on of some sort to attract the brethren and this time there were for me two such attractions.  One was that it was to be held in the McEwan Hall and I hadn't been in it since it was refurbished and the new entrance built (whaur's yir Louvre peeramid noo?) .  The second was that the meeting was to be followed by (not counting lunch) an exhibition and presentations about the university's connections with Africa past, present and future.

The refurbishment is lovely; all that fancy decoration bright and shiny and comfy cushioning on the seats.  The bringing into use and extension of the hithertoo unused basement areas (where the meeting and presentations were held) is impressive.

I enjoyed discovering the various academic and practical African connections and had some very interesting conversations with those involved.  I even had the opportunity to remonstrate with the director of the 1971 (or was it 72)  Nairobi production of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie for not casting me.  I hadn't seen the man since but the wound runs deep.

In the pursuance of art I've been to a big exhibition of Victoria Crowe's work.  She does wonderful trees but disappointingly none of those pictures featured amongst the prints and postcards of her work that were on sale. 

I'd have liked a Crowe tree print but wasn't tempted to buy a souvenir of the Bridget Riley exhibition.  However one might admire the skill and the extraordinary amount of detailed work she does in preparation for her abstracts the sworls of black and white and the columns of colours fail to inspire much enthusiasm: in me that is, her world renown speaks to other impacts on other people.  Mind you I have to admit to a nascent admiration, indeed liking for a canvas covered in purple dots.

Oor Willie statues have sprung up around town and one of them could well have been decorated by her:

I've always admired the library building in Dundee Street and very much enjoyed the talk about it given by Alice Strang at the National Gallery.  It was illustrated by some fine slides of the building and its decorative panels with their relief sculptures.  Apart from introducing us to the various worthy gents involved in its creation and design and reminding us of the part played by the generous endowment of Nelson the publisher she was able to quote from the reminiscences of a chap who grew up in the area and used the library and its predecessor.

The Dunedin Wind Band finished its year with an excellent concert in Old St. Pauls that raised a £1,000 for charity.  An excellent social evening two days later rounded things off as we split for the summer.