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.