Music: the food of life.

I love music. I love many genres of music to the point of eclecticity and possibly eccentricity. (I am aware I made up the first of these words before someone calls the grammar and language police). My old CD collection has classical, country, folk, rock, pop, jazz, soul, blues. Infact if there is a musical style I am likely to have it in my collection. Well, the gansta rap is so thin on the ground as to be invisible but most other genres are covered.

In pre-pandemic days, when I was at home on my own and the Wing Commander had an alloted office space to occupy elsewhere beyond the domestic paradise, I would play my music on the ancient Hi-Fidelity system or more recently through my Sonos speaker. However, I became aware that when the breadwinner came home he would turn the volume down or even, if grumpy, turn it off. Therefore, when his takeover and occupation of my office became permanent in the new ‘Work From Home’ era. I was solicitous enough not to subject him to nightclub levels of decibels while he wrestled with the Project Planning and Cost of Important Things.

In this period of musical dearth I was relegated to using miPod with, at first, shonky old headphones, and more recently, with state of the art (or so I was led to believe) ear buds. These earbuds, state of the art or otherwise, are, however, entirely unsuitable for a newly prescribed hearing-aid-wearing pensionista and so I have been hankering after some decent headphones. The Wing Commander came through at Christmas with a spiffy set of Bose headphones in a fetching gray colour. My joy was overed.

On the downside, if there is a downside to noise-cancelling headphones, I am totally unaware of conversations he is trying to have with me (even more so than the pre-hearing aid era) and, as I discovered today, he is, on the other hand, very aware when I decide to sing along to, in today’s case, Adele. I received a visit. I was telt, as we say in Scotland. More care needed in future. But I love my new headphones. Music, play on!

Moving on

My plan to delete certain social media sites is still ongoing but two out of the three have now gone and I must say, while I thought it would be difficult, it has been surprisingly easy to achieve. Also surprising is that I am reading more, and in more depth. I was finding that I, increasingly, read only headlines and first couple of paragraphs of articles/news reports etc with the pressure to continually scroll to find more content. That pressure has been lifted and I can take my time over important issues that interest and inspire me.

I am still finding my way on Bluesky, which has grown quickly in the last few weeks. I do seem to be attracting follows from people, well men, who only post photos of themselves and, often, claim to be in the military or the occasional over-exposed women. However, there are growing numbers of interesting and educational news sources, businesses, people and organisations to follow and engage with.

I am also experiencing the freedom to enjoy a wider range of interests and hobbies now that I have escaped the doom-scrolling that is such a feature of social media. I found I was constantly wasting time flipping from one site to the next to try to find … well Im not sure what now. Life so far without these sites seems much more reasoned and calm. I wouldn’t have thought of myself as an addict but I guess to some degree I was.

I am reigniting my interest in sites such as Longreads (https://longreads.com/), Guernica (https://www.guernicamag.com/) and Open Culture (https://www.openculture.com/) to name a few. Any content creator that I particularly want to follow who has a Youtube channel I am also subscribing to or to specific websites. It is a great way to maintain contact. I do regret the potential loss of contact with the friends I have made over the years on social media sites but I hope we can stay in touch through other means.

All in all I recommend taking the leap out of the social media trap. You never know what is on the other side!

Birthday Cake!

It is always a pleasure to be able to spend time with my Little Explosions and especially so when it is their birthday. Storm Eowyn died down in time for our drive north and we had a problem free journey, arriving in time for lunch. As the sun came out, though still chilly, we wrapped up warm and went for a walk along the beach. Little Explosion decided to emulate Rousay dog who likes digging in the sand. I guess those mittens are going for the wash!

LE also remembered that the last time I took her for a walk on the beach we made some art by arranging stones into a pattern. On this occasion we left some very modern instalations for other beach walkers to admire and interpret. She was less impressed with my ‘treasure’ find, a red pebble with white dots on it, and I had to chase her to get it back before it was to be thrown into the sea! Apparently, big stones = make art, pebbles = throw in sea.

In the evening we went to a local hostelry for dinner which consisted of some delicious small plates with local produce – the black pudding and scallop wellingtons were excedingly yum – although the plat du jour for 3-year olds was chips followed by large helpings of chocolate cake. Always have a small friend to share chips and chocolate cake with, even when the menu has so many delicious choices! Happy Third Birthday from Baba.

Social Media, Farewell (ish)

It is a truth, universally acknowledged by the snarky, that social media is not an airport and, therefore, one doesn’t need to announce one’s departure. And yet I feel I need to acknowledge that departure, not least because it has been a difficult, if inevitable, decision to leave.

I was slow to the social media bandwagon, joining Facebook in 2006/07ish. I enjoyed finding friends, old and new, and I wasted a lot of time on those little games that were so prevalent in the early days! While those games were a great way to fritter away time and procrastinate they were also instrumental in making many new friends, some of whom I have managed to meet ‘in real life’ and others who have remained friends despite the disappearance of the games and because we share common interests.

For nearly 20 years I have both enjoyed and disliked Facebook. More recently it has become a junkyard of adverts and irrelevant posts. It is increasingly difficult to see posts from friends and is not a pleasure to use. However, it is a point of easy contact with people, especially friends, and I have made many good friends, online.

I tried Instagram about the same time I joined Facebook and then deleted my account only to reinvigorate it some years later and for a while it suited my social media needs – I liked that I could use a photograph to introduce or tell a story about aspects of my life – I didn’t aspire to be an ‘influencer’. I merely enjoyed sharing snippets of my daily existance. I managed to accumulate some ‘followers’ and I, in return, followed content I found interesting but I didn’t make friends with many as I had on Facebook. Not that that was the goal. Insta was different and complimentary to my interactions on Facebook.

If it took a while for me to get onto the previous sites it was even longer before I got myself onto Twitter. It was a different experience to the others and I really wasn’t wanting to spend a lot of time debating, or more likely, arguing with people who could not be moved by reason and whose tolerance of debate was minimal. I had even less interst in fending off rage commentary on my own posts. It was much too combative for my taste but I did find interesting, informative, thoughtful, fun content … until it wasn’t.

I left Twitter fairly soon after it was taken over and joined Threads, which I have to say, I have found more enjoyable. There is some great content and despite some issues (so many porn bots!) I found several worthwhile content creators to follow even though my own input was minimal.

All of the above are owned by a tech bro who has now capitulated to the felon in the white house (no capitals intentional), as have the billionaires in charge of other enterprises. It strikes me as a form of collaborationism that I am bound to resist. I have spent a lifetime boycotting apartheid in South Africa, and Israel. I try not to support businesses with poor working conditions or practices or to visit countries with poor human rights positions or repressive governments. I cannot, in good conscience now continue to use products from companies so quick to bend the knee to a felonious oligarch.

To support Meta, Amazon, Apple and others right now is not morally possible, at least for me personally. I do not evangelise my Boycott, Divest, Sanction principles but I am trying to learn how to keep my friends and followers from various social media sites while I negotiate my way out of the grip of certain tech and social media domination. It is a work in progress to disentangle my life from them but I am searching for ways to make it happen, while retaining contact with friends whose only connection is through the aforementioned sites.

I will, therefore be moving my social media output to this blog. I have read various opinions on whether to stay with social media or to leave and the most convincing to me was to leave and produce content on one’s own website. I have always said I have a life, not a lifestyle, and my content creation is probably of limited interest to others. I do this mainly for myself and those who may find it mildly amusing or curiously diverting. Please join me here if you feel like the occasional contact with me. Alternatively I am currently trying Bluesky under the name CapnDarcy if that is more to your taste.

I am not immediately closing my social media as I have yet to work out the best way to close that door but I will be working towards that goal in the next few weeks/months. Here’s to new beginings and continued friendships.

The Punch

Books are awesome. We all know this. Books transport us, enlighten us, encourage us and so much more. Every now and then books can give a real punch to the gut that can leave the reader reeling, such as reading something unexpectedly pertinent to this moment.

While I deeply and sincerely hope the Palestine-Israeli ceasefire holds and moves forward to a peaceful and equitable solution, today I read about the Hebron shoemaker who put a tiny bit of Palestinian soil into the shoes he made so that his customers – refugees, the deported and departed, and those denied return ‘can always stand on a tiny piece of their land.’ (James Crawford, The Edge of the Plain: How borders make and break our world. 2022, Edinburgh, Cannongate) pp. 160-61.

I can only hopelessly and helplessly try to imagine the only contact I have with my country is a piece of soil in my shoe, forever divorced from the land from which it came. There, but for circumstances beyond our control, go all of us.

A Year of Swedish Death Cleaning.

I’m not sure if, at the age of 63, I am early or late to the Art of Swedish Death Cleaning. The hyper-organised will have been doing it all their lives while the cluttered collectors among us will likely continue to look the other way. I have decided to embrace it and have begun the process slowly.

In a nutshell, for those uninitiated into the practice, Swedish Death Cleaning is the process of decluttering life of old and unnecessary items. It can be clothing, souvenirs, books, photographs, anything that you have collected over the years but now has no meaning to you or has served its function and is taking up space. Unlike other organisational methods, Death Cleaning is ultimately about saving our loved ones the task of clearing out our belongings after we die. Having had to clear out my parents’ home it is part sorrowful honour and part dreadful chore, part grief-wrenching and part joyous memory-bringing but mostly it is constantly yelling into the void, ‘What the hell do you want me to do with this?’ It is something I would like to spare my loved ones when I pop off in my viking burial ship. (That’s a whole other post).

When I mention my plan to others there is a certain horrified look that comes across their faces so I will say here that I have not been informed of a life-limiting condition and neither do I have an intention of shuffling off this mortal coil any time soon. If I do die during or shortly after my Year of Swedish Death Cleaning know that I have no premonition of my demise and I forbid anyone suggesting I did! Thankfully, we are mostly unaware of when Death will visit and in the meantime I will enjoy every minute I have while also, hopefully, making it easier for those I love the most.

So far, several boxes and bags of clothing and books have made their way to charity shops. Clothes that I have been saving for ‘when they will fit again’ (never) and books that moved from the TBR (to be read) pile to the DNF (did not finish) pile. Having been a life-long ‘I must finish every book I start’, I am a recent and happy convert to the ‘Nope, not reading more of this’ bibliophile. Another liberation of old(er) age, perhaps.

However, Death Cleaning is not only about getting rid of things. I have recently completed a catalogue of all our DVDs, Blurays and CDs. Older technology that I still want to keep around but in the event of my death will be easier to find, sort, and chuck/take/give to new home. Photographs have all been labelled, too. People we know and love will not necessarily be familiar to younger generations and once we are gone so too is the ability to know what our friends and ancestors looked like. If only one task is performed in the process of cleaning, let it be labelling photographs for the next generation. You never know which one of our descendents will become interested in the family tree.

I will also be able to leave notes about items that mean something to me and why. A silly souvenir from a holiday will mean nothing to anyone cleaning up after me but in this way they will at least know why it is there, what it meant, perhaps giving a tiny insight into my life of which they may have been unaware. It doesn’t mean they have to preserve it but they will understand why it has been left.

Swedish Death Cleaning may not be to everyone’s taste and that is absolutely fine. However, I do urge everyone to at least make a will. Grief at the passing of a loved one does not need a companion in despair of doing the ‘right thing’ or second guessing what you really want to happen.

Besides, How would I have wiled away an hour finding out about how the internet worked in 2000!

Discovering Treachery

The New Year can bring resolutions, revelations, and uncertainty but one event is a constant in my life. Since I was a post-graduate I have been a member of The Study Group on the Russian Revolution, which holds its annual conference in the first week of January. It provides delegates with the chance to hear new research on a broad range of subjects connected to late Imperial Russia, the Revolutions in 1917, the Civil War and covers social, political, military and cultural topics. Over the years it has been held in various university cities in the UK and even in Belgium. This year it was in Southampton.

After the conference this year I spent an extra night in the hotel as there wasn’t a flight available until the following day. I arranged to go out to dinner with a colleague in similar circumstances and agreed to meet in the foyer at an agreed time. As I went towards the lift to go down from my room at the appointed time two young boys, about 10 years old, were also waiting for the lift. One decided he would take the stairs and shouted, ‘Race you!’ as he disappeared round the corner.

Game on! I thought, as the lift doors opened. ‘Quick, push the button!’ I encouraged the other boy. He smiled shyly and shrugged. ‘He will probably win’, he said, resignedly. Down went the lift and … stopped on the first floor! Oh no! Now we had most certainly lost the challenge. However, no one was waiting to get on! ‘Your friend pushed the call button as he ran past!’ I gasped.

‘Oh no he wouldn’t do that’ he replied aghast that I would suggest it! However, as we reached the ground floor and the doors opened there was his friend leisurely tying his shoe laces, as if to tell us he had been waiting a long time. My traveling companion looked at me with sadness and realisation in his eyes ‘He did, didn’t he!’ He had discovered treachery!

I, Baba.

It has been a difficult year. Not in any tragic or dramatic sense but simply a year that has seemed without meaningful purpose or direction. When I turned sixty, three years ago, I actively sought out new challenges and directions for my life. I love being ‘old’ enough to be what and who I want, leaving behind a less confident, overly self-conscious self and embracing my own worth, appreciating my experiences and relishing new adventures, and even though I have enjoyed taking on new and fulfilling ventures, this year has felt a little rudderless.

One of the greatest joys of life in recent years has been my promotion to grandparenthood. Our eldest granddaughter arrived shortly after I turned 60 and has been instrumental in keeping me ‘on my toes’ (because, quite frankly, it is difficult to get up off my knees when playing on the floor!) I love seeing her, and her fellow girl gang members (there are now three granddaughters) growing and experiencing the world around them.

She visited yesterday. While playing a new game I mentioned she was ‘a clever girl.’ Her response, which has become a bit of a mantra recently, was a very determined, ‘I, Isla’. I wondered how she would describe me so asked, ‘Who am I?’ Without looking up from her game she responded very matter-of-factly, ‘You, Baba.’ Baba is the name I chose to be known as, short for babushka. ‘But, I’m Jenny’ I prodded a little further to see her reaction. She shook her head a little, again without looking up from her game, ‘You, Baba’.

‘I am also Jenny’ I added again, to see if she could understand a little of the complexity of identity. Her response was forceful. Looking up, she put her little hand on my chest and looked me straight in the eye – sometimes, Babas need to be instructed very directly! ‘You. Baba.’ she stated very determinedly.

In those 2 words, from the heart of a 3-year-old, I suddenly rediscovered my purpose. Whatever the future holds and whatever new adventures await I shall meet them all head on as Baba! What fun I am going to have!

Edinburgh Fringe 2023

4 days, 12 events.

Day Two

Day two of our fesitval jaunt was our most varied. We began in a leisurely manner at the Book Festival listening to Richart T. Kelly talk about his new book, The Black Eden, set in Scotland over the period of discovery and early exploration for oil. I hadn’t read the book as it only came out in July. Our interest was in the subject matter but I was intrigued enough to want to buy the book too. I usually manage a couple of visits to the book festival but this year I only managed to fit in one. The festival bookshop is always a wonderful place to spend some free time and a stroll along the shelves browsing the collections. Unfortunately, I really have not taken to the new venue at Edinburgh College of Art. It feels seperated from all the other events and bustle of Edinburgh in August. I loved the old location on Charlotte Square, which felt like it was in the heart of the many festivals going on at the same time, and look forward to visiting their permanent new location in 2024 which will hopefully recapture the thrill of the festival and to continue to enjoy their varied and interesting programme.

We quickly jumped on a tram after the book event and rode all the way down to Leith on the newly opened secion of the tramway and a little adventure away from festival events. It was great to trundle down Leith Walk and to see all theeh busy little shops and cafes along the way. Our mission in Leith was to feed the body rather than the mind as we headed towards The Kitchin for some fine dining. It was our first time at Tom Kitchen’s Leith restaurant although we had in previous years eaten at The Castle Terrace which he also owned. I found Castle Terrace a little pretentious, I have to say, but I found no fault with The Kitchen. The food, the room, the setting and above all the staff were amazing. A real culinary experience!

Our relaxing lunch turned into a relaxed afternoon until a comedy show with Marc Jennings in the early evening. I have followed Jennings on social media for a couple of years and wasn not able to fit in his Edinburgh show at last year’s festival so I was really keen to see him this year. He did not disappoint. There was some poignant content matter which was handled sensitively and humourously. Less experienced comedians could have fallen into the trap of becoming maudlin but Jennings left us with a feel good warmth and a hearty laugh at the dilemma of a Celtic fan wanting to play his Mum’s favourite song – Simply The Best- at her funeral. For those unfamiliar with Scottish football, This song is associated with the fans of Rangers, the other Glasgow team and great rival of Celtic.

We had enough time for a snack and some drinks before our final show of the evening, An Audience with Tom Robinson, one of my favourite artists to emerge in the punk era. I think it was, for both of us, our favourite show. Many bands and artists of the 60s and 70s have continued to have great careers and still put on stadium tours and shows but there is something very comfortable at a certain age to sit in a small audience listening to a favourite artist, who has aged likewise – Tom hobbled on stage on crutches after his recent knee surgery, singing familiar songs, and knowing all the lyrics. Tom chatted like he was in a cozy setting with friends, retelling his career ups and downs while playing acoustic versions of his familiar songbook. It was a highlight I shall not forget.

Edinburgh Fringe 2023

4 days, 12 events.

Day One

‘What was your favourite bit?’ I used to ask The Bombers this question after we had enjoyed a day out or event. Sometimes the answers would be clear cut and at other times there would be several moments that had given pleasure or revealed the different ‘take aways’ for them. Sometimes it is difficult, if not impossible, to place one moment above all the others, especially in the entertainment or event spans several days and genres.

Such is the diversity of things to do and see at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival that it is difficult to impose a hierarchy of favourites. How can you, for example, compare an art exhibition to a Michelin-starred lunch? A comedian to a jazz quintet? Even within genres, is it fair to compare a seasoned comedian with a 40 year career to a young comedian trying out material in their first stand up show?

We managed to pack 12 events into our short stay in the city and none of them disappointed. After dropping off our luggage we wandered down to the National Gallery to see The Grayson Perry retrospective called Smash Hits. As we were a little early for our timed entry slot we walked round the Elizabeth Blackadder and Robert Houston exhibition which is well worth the visit on its own.

I was lucky enough to see The Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman exhibition of Perry’s work at the British Museum in 2011 and was delighted to see some of the pieces exhibited then included in the current show. However, for me, the big wow was the emormous tapestries on display. Each one could have taken hours to pour over in detail as they contain so many different elements. Thank goodness for the exhibition book which can be poured over at leisure giving more detail and information on specific works. The themes of identity, sex and violence the exhibition can prove provocative and challenging but there was a steady stream of people willing to view and appreciate Perry’s works.

Our next event was a stand up show, The Best of Scottish Comedy. I have generally avoided stand-up at previous festivals simply because of the difficulty in chosing from the vast numbers of stand-up shows listed. To others who feel the same I would say start with one of the ‘Best of…’ type shows which will give short introductions to comedians you may like to see more of…or less! Each show will give the audience a flavour of three or four comedians who have shows within the festival programme. Of the three comedians we saw one was not to our taste, one was entertaining and one was hilarious. Robin Grainger told the story of his debut at the Fringe last year when he had only one audience member. That audient (because there is actually a word for a singular audience!) left after the show and spread the word about how funny Grainger was. Then, with the help of social media and a review, word of the show spread quickly. His story of the event and aftermath were hilariously told in the best tradition of comedy. However, his second story of taking a bath to relieve stress on the advice of his girlfriend proves Grainger’s comedy does not rely solely on his debut misadventure. I will definitely make a point of seeing his full show when I get the opportunity.