The Viceroy’s House.

What a week! Piratesmas was postponed because of the terrible weather forecast and then covid finally caught me. Thankfully, the former has been rescheduled and the latter, while annoying in the extreme, has not been severe although it has meant a few days recuperating in bed. Today, however, I was able to get up and dressed and to spend some time in the garden with the dog.

The Wing Commander, who has avoided my covid, had a game of golf lined up for today so I had the house to myself, an unusual event since the pandemic began. I took the opportunity to choose a film to watch which I knew he would be unlikely to be interested in. I decided on The Viceroy’s House, a 2017 film but one I had not previously been aware of.

On the one hand it had a stellar cast, with Hugh Bonneville and Gillian Anderson supported by Michael Gambon and Simon Callow among many others. All are great actors who are generally well worth watching. On the other hand it was based on the granting of Indian independence and the partition of the country, a period and nation I know too little about.

The historical setting is laced with a love story across the religious divide of India. Sadly neither the able cast , the drama nor the love story can raise this film much above mediocre. The political intrigue, colonial attitudes and civil tensions should make for a better entertainment than The Viceroy’s House can muster sadly. Perhaps it needed more time than the 1 hour 45 minutes to unfold the enormity of the events or perhaps it was too big in scope to ever give justice to the tragedy that unfolded.

Give it a watch if you want to fill a couple of hours but don’t expect great drama or history

Learning to Love Audiobooks

I have had an on/off relationship with audiobooks for several years. I have an extensive library of audiobooks and in the past have tended to listen to them while also reading the actual book. This is slower than reading myself but I do find it engaging to hear someone else’s voice read the words. Of course, one issue with this approach is making sure the book and the audio match up. I once listened to Don Quixote while the text was a completely different translation!

Some friends have advocated using audiobooks to help with insomnia. Thankfully, I am not as insomniac as I have been in the past but I am torn between the soothing sounds of a voice reading to me to send me to sleep and the anxiety of missing part of the story and having to rewind to the correct place!

A colleague recently suggested I listen while walking the dog each morning. I was reluctant at first as I walk Rousay off lead and need to have full attention on her while we are on the street or busy areas. However, I have slightly altered our route to a safe, off-road area where she can explore safely while I plug into a good book. I decided to begin with Animal Farm by George Orwell for two reasons: It is short enough to test out the experience but is also a very familiar story so I do not get anxious about missing parts if my attention is taken by anything happening around me.

I enjoyed listening to Simon Callow reading the story although I was a little perplexed that Napoleon, “a large, rather fierce-looking Berkshire boar”, had a strangely Scottish accent at times! However, I was off to a good start and continued with The Benn Diaries, 1940-1970 read by Tony Benn himself. I have always admired people who keep a diary throughout their lives. I have tried and failed on more than one occasion. I guess this blog is the most recent incarnation of a diary attempt!

Diaries are useful for seeing how people think and talk about events in their lives but, as a historical document, they are also suspect evidence of the past depending on whether there was an expectation that they would remain secret to the writer or were always intended for a wider audience through publication. Editting out the problematic entries is always possible of course if the writer wants to withold certain parts. At the beginning of his political career Tony Benn would probably not had much thought that his diary entries would have been of interest to a reading public and that is somewhat reflected in the writing. The diaries contain emotionally revealing moments such as the death of his older brother and the birth of his children while other parts describe various disagreements and infighting within the Labour Party which are useful for historians and commentators but probably quite dull for more general readers/listeners. Nevertheless, the diaries are an interesting insight into Benn’s early career and thoughts and a reminder for an old gal like me of events in my childhood that I remember but never fully understood at the time.

Today I started Cannery Row by John Steinbeck, my all-time favourite writer, and I am. once again, transported to Monterey, California with Doc, Mack and the gang of colourful characters at The Palace Flophouse and Grill. It must be forty years since I read the book and I am reminded of what a joy it is already, having only listened to the first chapter on our walk this morning. I think I may have moved my audiobook relationship firmly into the ‘love’ department!

A Joyless Church

I am currently reading the Minutes of the Kirk Session of Rousay and Egilsay as part of my investigation into my family history. I must admit I was not overly keen to read about the goings on of the church in the 1730s, expecting it to be boring, but I can categorically state it is anything but!

The population of Rousay at the time would have been, perhaps, 600-700 people while Egilsay would have been about 200 so neither were very populous and it is likely that people living there would have known, or known of, everyone else on the islands. It is difficult to keep activities secret from others in a small community and this is reflected in the minutes of the Kirk Session.

There are many entries in the minutes regarding the sin of Fornication (it has a capital F to indicate its seriousness) where the people involved are called to repent infront of the congregation for several weeks before they can be absolved. There is also a very specific category of fornication called antenuptual fornication which is evidenced by the birth of a baby within the first nine months of marriage and again requires the appearance of the couple, once the mother has recovered from ‘childbed sickness’, in front of the congregation to repent and the payment of a fine, sometimes this is in the form of forfeiture of a payment made at the time of marriage. Furthermore, a sponsor has to be appointed to oversee the child’s moral education.

In addition to sexual misdemeanors there are crimes of Breach of the Sabbath. In one case two boatloads of people had come from the neighbouring island of Wyre ‘to cut and gather floss’ , reportedly on the evening of the sabbath. All were called to account for themselves and all denied they had broken the sabbath claiming instead that they did not set sail until the sun had risen the following day. It was concluded by the Session that the report had come from people on Gairsay, another nearby island, ‘out of envy to hinder them of the privilege of cutting floss’ but that those involved should be exhorted to take good care of the observation of the sabbath in future.

‘Intimation was made from the pulpit against idle and unnecessary walking up and down on Sabbath Evenings’ was recorded in the minutes on another occassion when it was reported that several people had been seen walking along the shoreline on a sabbath evening ‘under pretense of seeking stray sheep and …cattle’. It seems that there was no proof of the allegations but to be safe the minister exhorted them to ‘abstain from such a practice…except in case of necessity’.

Two things impress me from these tales. In addition to the moral teachings of the church which had to be upheld among the congregation it is also striking how much money is collected from these ‘crimes’. It is unclear what the full penalty for fornication was but at least two culprits paid 40 shillings as part payment for their transgression. To set this in context of other church funds, the usual collection from the congregation at church after the sermon was 1-2 shillings. Payments made by the church to the poor of the parish are likewise in single digit shillings, often the collection of the day shared between two or three people. In other words, the church had created a nice little earner for itself.

Secondly, there seems to be a general disregard for the system of punishment or at least a lacklustre attention to it. On many occassions it is noted in the minutes that a person so accused did not turn up at church to be rebuked from the pulpit. They are simply called to appear the following week but there seems little else used by the church to force compliance. One woman who was accused of adultery and often did not attend was considered to be unsuitably repentant so she was referred to the Presbytry of the North Isles. However, she did not appear there either! In other cases such as the sailing on the sabbath or walking along the shore the individuals involved simply stated, truly or not, that the sabbath was over or that it was a necessity to find lost sheep.

Ultimately, the church appears a joyless, money-grabbing institution while the people seem resourceful and inventive in their own defence. They are the kind of people from whom it is a pleasure to be a descendant!

Alternative Baby Names

Everyone believes they pick the perfect name for their baby. In recent years there is often a desire to be ‘unique’. This might mean an unusual spelling such as KVIIIlyn/K8lyn =Kaitlyn. The names with the most alternative spellings are, apparently, Caden with 52 alternatives including Kayden and Caeyden, and Aaliyah with a whopping 89 alternatives such as Alaiya, Eliya and Aleigha. Some alternatives to a traditional spelling bear little resemblance to the original so that Ian/Iain/Ioan also includes various spellings such as Ayaan, Ehaan or Aiyaan. I can see a trend to keep adding vowels until the name seems original and unique enough. Of course, the proud parent could just drop vowels altogether and have Mykl (pronounced Michael).

We are all familiar with the ‘unusual’ names that celebrities choose for their offspring. Frank Zappa called his daughter Moon Unit in 1967 and she still carries the name although David Bowie’s son Zowie now goes by the more regular name of Duncan Jones. Not to be outdone, mere mortals have also jumped on the ‘weird’ name bandwagon. Talula does the Hula from Hawaii was made a ward of court in New Zealand to allow her to change her name to something more ‘normal’. She had refused to tell anyone her real name, instead going by ‘K’, one of the 12 letters of the alphabet not in her original moniker.

New Zealand’s Department of Internal Affairs have blocked chosen names such as 4Real and Mafia No Fear and yet somehow let Number 16 Bus Shelter be attached to an unsuspecting child. Perhaps, like Brooklyn Beckham, the name had some meaning as to place of conception.

As I have delved further back into my ancestors, many of whom share a small group of names that were passed down from parents and grandparents, I have also discovered some unusual spellings. Isobel can also be Isabel, Isabella/Isobella or even Isabell/Isobell. Margaret can be spelled Margret on one document and Magrit on another. I have found several versions of Catherine, including Kaithring, Kaithren and Kaithrine. Henry can have two Ns and even no R. Surnames also have a habit of changing spelling which causes problems searching for documents. Most of these differences were not down to a trend in creating unique names but more likely to do with the literacy level of the writer. Whoever was recording the names may not have known how they were spelled or guessed phonetically based on what the parent had said.

Today I came across a very unusual name in a marriage record from 1834. The marriage was recorded in both the bride’s and the groom’s parishes. In one they are recorded as James and Penelope but in the other as James and Pnellypay. From what I can gather it is a unique spelling in Scottish records so if you are looking for both a traditional name and a unique spelling your baby girl may become the first Pnellypay in Scotland in the last 200 years.

Voting Rights

Today is local elections day and I want to go to vote. I have had a low level headache all day so I’ve been slouching about the house wearing an old Disney t-shirt and a pair of baggy joggers. Now the Wing Commander is objecting to me leaving the house in such attire, especially in his company. I pointed out I have clean underwear on but he is being intransigent and will not be moved so I have had to change into ‘proper clothes’. I feel this infringes on my rights. It’s not like I’m going to vote tory after all.

Gym and a Swim

When I joined a gym a couple of months ago my intention was to go twice a week.. Sadly, I have not quite achieved that yet with most weeks having only one visit and some with none at all. This retirement lark is proving to be very busy and all sorts of other things have got in the way of my good intentions.

Only on one occasion have I used the swimming pool and that was when I took my granddaughter along so today, having a fully free day to myself, I decided to visit the gym and then use the pool. I grabbed a swimming costume and towel to add to my gym gear and headed off. The gym was quiet, as it usually is – it is one of the main reasons I joined this particular establishment, but there was also some serious exercising and weight lifting going on while I worked my way around the equipment. I have to say that I was pleasantly aware that I was beginning to acquire more stamina and flexibility in the short time I have been going even with patchy attendance.

I ended the session with the cross trainer and a brisk walk which left me fairly sweaty, then back to the changing room to get ready for a swim. This was where things took a slightly unexpected, or at least unforeseen, turn. Apart from taking my granddaughter to the pool as mentioned above I haven’t been swimming for probably ten years. I bought 3 swimsuits for a holiday in Aruba many years ago and they have lain unused in a drawer ever since. The swimming costume I grabbed this morning without thought or care, the smallest of the three was therefore…um…on the nippy side.

Swimsuits are stretchy, I thought, I will manage to get into it and maintain modesty surely. This thought process had failed to take into consideration the sweatiness of my larger-than-ten-years-ago body after my gym workout. It was a workout in itself to get all the relevant body parts into the costume. One I hadn’t anticipated and don’t really want to reprise. Note to self – do not use this costume again until there has been some shrinkage…in body, not swimsuit.

After a very pleasant and very slow six lengths I went to shower, the temperature of which was set to volcanic and no means of changing it to a more reasonable level. Thankfully another shower cubicle was available and I was ready to get out of the tighter-than-anticipated swimsuit while negotiating a very wet floor. This was when I remembered another problem with swimming pool changing rooms, the humidity. Trying to dry a wet body, in a humid environment, with a towel which has already fallen on the wet floor and get dressed into clothes that will not cooperate is a special level of hellishness. Trousers will inevitably drag on the wet floor while tops will stick to partially dried arms. My conclusion is that I shall begin to wear kaftans made of towelling and devil take the fashion police.

On returning home I took up position reclining on the chaise longue like a Victorian lady with the vapours. There is only so much activity I can manage in one day.

Julia

This retirement lark is quite exhausting! What I thought would be peacefully long days filled with book-reading and coffee breaks have somehow become jam packed with all sorts of events and outings. Not that I am complaining! It is good to have days filled with variety and, truthfully, it is exhilerating. When I used to hear newly retired people say they had never been so busy as when they stopped working I thought it was one of those conversational fillers but it turns out to be true after all!

As I learn how to be a pensionista I will hopefully manage my time more productively. When I started this blog I had hoped to write at least once a week and thought twice a week would be good. I haven’t achieved that level of productivity consistently but I will work on it! I seem to have plenty of ideas for writing but getting to my laptop to jot them down has been less easy. After years of never being far away from my laptop I seem to be having difficulty getting to it these days!

Anyway, I wanted to jot down a few musings about the new series, Julia, with Sarah Lancashire, David Hyde Pierce and Bebe Neuwirth. I know nothing about Julia Child other than Meryl Streep played her in the 2009 movie, Julie and Julia, and from watching that I gathered she was a chef who had a tv show in the US. What drew me to the new series wasn’t Julia or her story but the actress playing her, Sarah Lancashire, who is just so damn good in everything she does.

I have never been a Coronation Street fan but it is impossible to completely ignore what happens on the soaps. Some storylines prick the public imagination so much that, fan or no, the events become common talking points that are impossible to avoid completely. One such scene for me was where Sarah Lancashire’s Raquel gets Ken Barlow to teach her French. Ken begins by asking the young Raquel which French words or phrases she knows already to which she replies with some basics. Based on this information he then suggests she say ‘Hello Ken. My name is Raquel and it is a lovely day today.’ Happily she responds, ‘Bonjour Ken. Je m’appelle Raquel. Voulez vous couchez avec moi ce soir.’ She is delighted to have achieved this task while Ken is left dumbfounded and uncertain how to explain what she has really said! It is a favourite scene for fans and non-fans alike.

Sarah Lancashire was brilliant as Raquel and she has received great reviews for almost everything she has done. I loved her in Last Tango in Halifax and she has tackled comedy and drama equally well. I often think she is an underused actress even though she is constantly on television. Other actors, with less talant, have tried their luck on bigger stages and in Holywood but she seems to stick to the British tv and stage. This may be a personal choice but it is a loss to audiences, I feel.

I was therefore, so pleased to see her playing Julia Child in the new Sky Atlantic series with such greats as David Hyde Pierce (Niles Crane) and Bebe Neuwirth (Dr Lilith Sternin). I have no idea how accurate it is regarding the life of the chef but it is great entertainment and Sarah Lancashire brings the whole human range of emotions to the part. There is a scene in the first episode where her doctor tells her she is entering menopause. Julia’s brief look of realisation that she will always now be childless is heartbreaking. A tiny moment so beautifully created for the audience. In another scene a college friend is recalling an incident that had a huge impact on her life but Julia is bemused that it meant so much to her when she barely recalled it…or perhaps recalled it completely differently. Again, a brief look but it conveyed so much more.

Julia speaks perfect French and says at one point to her husband, ‘Vive la difference’. It brought me back to that scene in Coronation Street and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It is so good to see Sarah Lancashire in a part that will be seen by a wider audience and the support cast is outstanding too. I saw an interview with Bebe Neuwirth where she was asked about the American attachment to Julia Child. She responded that she was always only herself and never sought to be something she was not. We see her, protrayed so beautifully by Sarah Lancashire, as a funny, goofy, intelligent, fragile, loving, outgoing, anxious person. A complex emotional being who also, apparently, changed Americans’ relationship to food.

Revisiting the Past

I arrived in Aberdeen as an 18y.o. student to train to be a teacher at what was then known as Aberdeen College of Education. It was a daunting experience for a girl from a small island to fly into the city (my first flight) and find my way to my accommodation, a room in halls of residence on the campus at Hilton.

My room was number 32 on the second floor of Clifton Hall. There was a single bed, a wardrobe and a desk. When I closed the door behind me I felt like I was in an alien world. It was scary being alone and away from home for the first time. Back in 1978 there was little preparation for the transition from school to university. I think we saw a film showing what it would be like! The only part of the film I remembered at the time was that I should immediately introduce myself to my neighbours who would either be new, like me, and probably as scared as I was, or a seasoned student who could show me the ropes.

I waited. No one came to introduce themselves to me so I eventually screwed up the courage to knock on the door of number 31. She was also a new student and we went for a coffee together. Only months later did she confess she thought I was Danish (because of my accent) and couldn’t speak English very well!

I had a great two years at A.C.E. and made great friends, both in Halls and in the wider student community. However, I never did complete my degree there and did not become a teacher (thankfully for the teaching profession!). Over the years the College first merged with Dundee College of Education and later became fully integrated with the University of Aberdeen on the King’s College campus where it remains to this day. The campus at Hilton was sold for redevelopment and the Halls – Hilton and Clifton – were converted into flats and townhouses.

I can’t remember which year the campus was sold but I remember receiving an invitation to return to see it one last time before conversions began. I didn’t take up the offer. I am not one for reunions or revisiting the past. Driving to and from University over the years I often passed by the old campus and recalled great memories of my short time there but I have not revisited the site to see what changes have taken place. Until recently…

Friends of ours recently returned from living in France and have bought one of the flats in the old halls of residence. Last week they invited us over for dinner. It was weird driving onto ‘campus’ again. Of course, the old Student’s Union and classroom blocks are gone and replaced with new blocks of flats but the two Halls of Residence , solid granite-built buildings with their distinctive red roofs, have changed little from the outside. On the inside the apartment is definitely grander than my pokey single room! It was fun trying to remember the original layout and figure out how many rooms would have fitted into the space! The conversions were well done and it is now a fabulous apartment.

We had a wonderful evening catching up with friends and remembering the old campus with the added bonus that The Wing Commander could access the building by the door and stairs and not the old method of a ladder to the window of room number 32…

Wordle and Workouts

Have you succumbed to the lure of Wordle? It took me some time to catch on to the craze but I am now a daily player. After a bit of a rough patch where I was taking 6 attempts to get the word or even failing completely a couple of times I am now on a good streak of 3-4 attempts. I don’t have a favourite starting word, choosing instead whatever comes into my head when I open the game. I know some people like words with lots of vowels but I am a consonant kinda gal. I like Ts and Ss but a couple of vowels help too, of course.

In other retirement news I have joined a gym. A local posh hotel with a leisure centre was offering discounted membership so I decided to check it out. One of the issues I have with gyms is that they can be intimidating for the unfit fatty like myself but the instructor asured me the membership was small and friendly. As he showed me around the facilities there were two people using the gym and he added that it rarely got busier than that. My kinda place! The membership, as well as being small in number, are mainly older people. Of course guests at the hotel have access to the facilities too, but the local members are, as far as I have seen so far, over sixties. Nevertheless, the equipment is all modern and easy to use.

As I was packing my ‘gym bag’ for my first session I picked an old Edinburgh Book Festival bag to carry my kit. Nothing quite says ‘old’, ‘middle class’ and ‘I would rather be reading’ than a Book Festival bag but hopefully by using the gym regularly I will add a bit of fitness to the old body too.

Shaking the Family Tree

I have been working on a branch of my great great grandmother’s family tree. She was one of ten children and had six children herself. One of her brother’s went even further and had fourteen children. It is his line I am currently working through.

As was not unusual, there were some in the family that emigrated. Canada, Australia and New Zealand were common destinations for Scottish families in the nineteenth century (although I have found branches in South Africa and Brazil also). The line I am working on today went to Canada where I have discovered his great granddaughter married a man whose family were also of Scottish descent, originating in Inverurie, Aberdeenshire.

The original emigrant from Inverurie, the grandfather, was, according to information gathered by other genealogists, known as Big Red Joe. I can’t help but wonder if this nickname was because of his hair, complexion or politics. I kinda hope it was because of his politics and I would have liked to have met him!