A foray into Russian literature

After going to see Viv Groskop at the Edinburgh Book Festival in August, I read her book The Anna Karenina Fix, which was a light-hearted run through some of the Russian classics and what life lessons can be learned from them. It re-ignited my interest in Mikhail Bulgakov; he had such a difficult life due to being a writer in Stalin’s Russia. Anything that he wrote was banned by the government and he had to live in fear of being arrested, as he saw his fellow intellectuals being arrested and even executed. I read The Master and Margarita a few years ago but I didn’t fully realise how subversive it is - it wasn’t published for decades after his death. Bulgakov was desperate to travel the world and dreamed of gong to Paris but Stalin never allowed him to leave the Soviet Union and he died aged only forty-eight. I went on to read a collection of Bulgakov’s diaries and letters called Manuscripts Don’t Burn and it was really interesting. I loved the few Russian novels that I have read and I can feel myself being drawn back there.

Autumn Leaves in Rouken Glen

These past few days it has become a lot chillier, not surprising I suppose since it is nearly November. There has been frost on the grass on Sunday and Monday, but it has been very sunny with blue skies, so on Sunday we wrapped Grandma up snugly and took her for an outing to Rouken Glen park. She’s very frail and was happy to use her wheelchair, which meant that we could take her all the way up to the pond and the waterfall, and she chatted about how beautiful were the autumn colours. The park was busy, with people of all ages out enjoying the sunshine. I remember that in the early 1980s it was threatened with closure by Glasgow District Council - what a shame that would have been. Luckily it is now run by East Ren. After our walk we had a cup of tea in the garden centre and Grandma chose her Christmas cards, she was very pleased with her outing and her purchases.
And then in the evening James and I collected Ally from the airport; he was telling us all about his adventures with Cat on their holiday to Jordan, it sounds marvellous. And finally we FaceTimed Jamie in New Zealand; he was in excellent spirits and looking forward to NZ summer. It was a good family weekend.

Oktoberfest in Glasgow

Last night James and I found ourselves in the Bavaria Brauhaus in Bothwell Street, on the last day of Oktoberfest, Glasgow style. Unfortunately we had missed the oompah band that had been entertaining the punters earlier, but there was still a festive atmosphere, a DJ playing 80s music, and a huge selection of German beer from which James chose his favourite weißbier. We had already had our dinner in Tempus, the restaurant in the Grand Central Hotel, thanks to Marjory and Forrest’s generous gift of a voucher for the venue last Christmas. We decided that it was high time that we used it and we enjoyed a slap up dinner. Beforehand we had a slightly mystified wander around the busy interior of the hotel, nearly gatecrashing someone’s wedding in the process, but after making our way up and down several staircases we found where we were supposed to be. The food was tasty and the service was friendly.
The train home was very crowded and many of the clientele were very, very inebriated. There was much jocularity, pushing, shoving, shouting and a lot of people were eating fish suppers. Despite all of this it was not the worst train journey I have ever been on!

Hurricane - 303 Squadron

Recently James mentioned a film that he wanted to see at the cinema. It’s called Hurricane, and is about Polish airmen during the Second World War, who had escaped from occupied Europe to Britain, and who were formed into a Polish squadron of the RAF. However when we checked the cinema listings, we found out that we were too late and it was finished. So we decided to stay at home and watch a film on television instead. James was serving out our curry while I looked for a film to watch - and guess what? The film was available on the Virgin Media On Demand Service. James was very surprised and pleased that we could watch it after all!

The Polish pilots were at first greeted with suspicion by the British but their flying skills earned them respect and they were the highest scoring of the Hurricane squadrons during the Battle of Britain. What was very sad was that after the end of the war they were not included in the 1946 London victory parade for political reasons, because they were loyal to the old pro-democracy Polish government-in-exile. Instead, representatives from the new Soviet-backed Polish government were invited. The airmen were invited at the last minute to march with the RAF but declined, and then the Soviet-backed Polish Government didn’t turn up either - because the pilots had been invited. It was certainly an interesting film but there was something kind of awkward about the script, it seemed a bit stilted sometimes and I felt that it could have told the story better. But I learned some new things; I remember my Mum and Dad talking about how badly Poland was let down by the Allies after the war.

Bizet not Brahms

I went to Symphony, Soup and a Sandwich today at the RCH for the second time. Catherine came too and we had a nice chat over lunch. Lunch was held in a dining area beside the Strathclyde Suite where the concert was held. It’s fair to say that Catherine and I felt quite youthful compared to most of the other customers! We were seated at round tables for about ten people and the atmosphere was friendly. The lady next to me overheard me mentioning Bizet and told me that I was mistaken, and that we were going to listen to Brahms, which was printed on her ticket. After having a look at it I gently pointed out that she had brought her ticket for January instead of for October! We were offered scones or cakes as well as our soup and sandwiches, followed by coffee or tea, so by the time we went into the hall to take our seats I felt quite replete.
More people arrived for the actual concert and the hall was full. A younger crowd joined our ranks and I wonder if some of them were on their lunch hour from work. First we were treated to Fauré’s gentle Masques et Bergamasques, and then we heard Bizet’s Symphony in C which was very lively. Conducting the RSNO was the enthusiastic young conductor Tung-Chieh Chuang. I thoroughly enjoyed the music; what a lovely way to spend lunch-time.

Psychedelic

Having been to see Roger Waters performing in Prague in May, James and I recently went to see his erst-while band mate Nick Mason in concert at the Armadillo in Glasgow. Nick Mason was the drummer in Pink Floyd, and he as with his newly formed band “Nick Mason’s Saucerful of Secrets.” This included former Spandau Ballet singer Gary Kemp. James explained to me that much of what they played was early Pink Floyd music from the 1960s, and he seemed to enjoy it very much. So did the rest of the audience, clearly all Pink Floyd devotees. I did like it fairly well myself, finding only some of it too obscure for me. By obscure I mean not tuneful enough. I like a proper melody.
Since Richard Wright and Syd Barrett are dead, James pointed out that we need to find out if David Gilmour will be touring soon so that we will have been to concerts by all three living Pink Floyd members. Of course in 1988 I did see Pink Floyd play at Wembley - although Roger Waters had left the group by then. James saw all four of them at Earls Court in 1980 when he went to see The Wall with Gordon. He certainly is a stalwart Pink Floyd fan!

Swimming Bangers

A few months ago I purchased a set of waterproof earphones with an inbuilt MP3 player, with the intention of using them to listen to music during my swimming sessions. Needless to say, when they arrived I had no idea of how to load music on, so they lay on a shelf for some time. Enter David, who very kindly set up a file of the sort of exuberant music that I wanted, gave it the title “Mum’s Swimming Bangers” and started loading it onto my MP3 player. After this promising start, progress ground to a halt because the music stubbornly refused to be uploaded. Then in September, enter Jamie, who, after much footering, successfully uploaded my music. Since then I kind of forgot all about it - until today!
After yoga, I went for my swim at Hamilton, armed with my swish headphones. There was a slight hitch at the poolside when I couldn’t remember how to switch them on, but luckily a young and helpful pool attendant showed me how, and soon I was swimming up and down the pool while listening to some of my favourite music. I loved it, and I felt really happy and well disposed towards my fellow swimmers. Several people even stopped me to ask where I got the earphones! I will definitely use them again.

Rainbows over Ullswater

After another comfortable night in the Pooley Bridge Inn, followed by a slap up breakfast, we bade farewell to our hill-walking club chums and set off for a Sunday morning walk. Our destination was a small hill behind Pooley Bridge called HeughScar. As we walked up the steady incline I began to feel quite nauseous; my poached eggs and toast washed down with copious amounts of coffee felt as if they were churning my around in my tummy as if in a washing machine. James was understanding when I asked for a rest fifteen minutes from the top, where there happened to be an attractive little curved stone seat, looking over fine views of the Ullswater Valley and the fells. Just above this was the 2000 year old Roman Road, where once marched Roman troops on their way from Galava to Brocavum * along the gentle slopes of High Street fell (named for the road). It was easier for the Romans to build this high road over the fell tops rather than in the marshy, forested valleys.
I recovered my equilibrium and we walked up to the summit of Heughscar where we were rewarded not only with more beautiful views of the lake but also a gorgeous rainbow (and briefly a double rainbow) which appeared and disappeared tantalisingly as the sun peeped from behind the clouds. On our way back down to the village it started raining, but we were soon enjoying tea and scones in a cosy tearoom, before an easy run home of less than two hours. We really should come to this lovely area more often. We were given a big welcome home by the cats, who would definitely not have approved of the canine fraternising that we have indulged in over the weekend.
* Ambleside to Penrith

Doggie heaven

Pooley Bridge is definitely doggie heaven! I have never seen so many families with their dogs as I have at this friendly little resort at the east end of Ullswater in the Lake District. There were lots of dogs on the ferry to Glenridding this morning, from where James and I then walked about 12 km to Howton. Needless to say, there were lots of pooches on the ferry back to Pooley Bridge too, all enjoying the fresh air with their families, and very interested in each other too. And in the bar at the Pooley Bridge Hotel, where we are spending the weekend, there is a dog under just about every table. They are provided with cushions by their people (I won’t say owners because I have a feeling that it’s the other way round!) fed with snacks, and generally admired. Occasionally there is a brief outburst of yapping but generally these pampered pooches are extremely well behaved.

Drake White

Heather wasn’t able to go to the Drake White concert as planned last night because she was at a conference in Cardiff. So very kindly I was invited to go instead, and after a remarkably painless parking experience I met up with Ewan outside St Luke’s. I had heard of St Luke’s but have never been there and I was very impressed with it as a music venue. It’s an old church and as I approached all of the windows were lit up, giving a strange red glow in the darkening evening. Inside it was warm and welcoming, with several bars and food on offer. Ewan asked the bouncers if we could go to the upstairs balcony, which gave us an unimpeded view beside two friendly country music super-fans, Carol Ann and Gordon. They knew all of the same bands that Ewan and Heather know and will be going to the Midland concert among many others.

As for Drake, well he was the real deal. Born in Alabama, his songs are about the country life - love, the outdoors, his dogs, his grandfather, drinking whisky. And it was such great music. I have always leaned towards a bit of country music and I found every song to be tuneful; some happy, some more thoughtful. He has a great voice and was attired in flared jeans and a cowboy hat; he was full of energy and likes to dance too. The audience loved him and so did I.

Eye infirmary encounter

Grandma and I are quite the regulars at her monthly eye appointments. I have learned to arrange them for the afternoon if possible because she worries about morning appointments in case she isn’t ready in time. Although she has carers to help her to get dressed in the morning and make her breakfast so she really would be ready as long as the appointment isn’t too early! All the same, if she has a morning appointment she doesn’t sleep properly the night before and tends to get up way too early to attempt to get ready by herself, and this means that she is exhausted and upset by the time I come to pick her up.
So I have learned that afternoons go much better, and after the appointment (which often involves a scary eye injection) we usually celebrate with a cup of tea in the hospital café. The hospital is in East Kilbride so nine times out of ten I run into a former colleague or pupil. Tuesday was no exception and I was chatting to a lovely lady whose agency worked closely with mine, and with whom I had shared many a challenging adventure. We reminisced briefly about “the old days” and congratulated each other on our retirement.

They Shall Not Grow Old

This evening we went to the cinema to see the premiere of Peter Jackson’s documentary about the First World War. We first heard about it last week from Ewan, and then we saw Peter Jackson at the Menin Gate, so we were keen to see the film. Then afterwards - it was being screened simultaneously at 250 cinemas throughout the UK - we stayed on to watch Mark Kermode interview Peter Jackson at the London Film Festival, attended by Prince William.
I knew that the film involved enhanced and colourised archive footage, but I was amazed at how effective this was. Like The Wizard of Oz, it begins in black and white. The war starts and soldiers volunteer, and the footage looks familiarly old-fashioned. But when the soldiers arrive at the front, the footage blooms into colour and suddenly the young men look so real and alive. And we hear them speak too, thanks to lip readers and the voices of actors. Mind you, rather than say much, they mainly smile self-consciously for the camera and nudge each other and burst out laughing. They look so young and full of fun, although the documentary also showed the horrors of war with some really distressing images. The filming takes place mainly in the trenches and behind the lines, because of course the cameras were far too big and unwieldy to be carried on to the battlefield. So the small amount of battle film is quite distant and unclear despite Jackson’s best efforts at enhancing it. It was still brutal though. I felt moved by the scene where the British soldiers and their German prisoners of war are sitting together laughing and swapping hats; there is no difference between them and it highlights the futility of war.

New painting

James and I recently decided to buy a painting to go above the fireplace in the new front room. We were keen to choose some aspect of our beloved north west of Scotland, preferably a sea or mountain view. So when we were at Ullapool at the end of September, we called in at the Rhue Gallery before we set off home on the Monday. We had a look around the display of acrylic paintings by James Hawkins - James was in the gallery working on his new collection of mountains of the Himalayas and we were chatting to him. The paintings that we liked were a bit surreal, with vibrant colours. Some of them were very big - James pointed out that we would need to build a bigger house in which to display them! However one painting stood out for both of us. It was neither of mountains nor the sea, but of a bright woodland glade at the height of summer, with the dark blue waters of Loch Achall beyond, and mountains in the distance. We really liked it, and I suggested that we take some time to think it over. However James said that sometimes you have to be spontaneous and go with your instinct, so we purchased it on the spot. And I’m very glad that we did. It is now installed in the front room at Casa Anderson and I love it.

An unwelcome gift

After the amazingly sunny and warm five days that we enjoyed in northern France and Belgium, we arrived home to a very rainy Scotland. Yesterday we stuck close to home as it rained constantly, (apart from going round to Marjory and Forrest’s for a delicious curry and a convivial evening) but today the weather is rather fine in an autumnal way - although quite chilly. I’m glad that we have put the winter duvet on the bed; th autumn is definitely further on here. In Belgium the trees were in their full array of red, gold and yellow, but due to stormy weather in Scotland last week, many leaves have now fallen from the trees and James and Ally are both out in the garden raking them up just now. Ally has also cleared all the leaves from the gutters, and as I watched horrified from the window he leaped agilely from the back room’s roof to the grass below, landing as lightly as Tom Cat would.
I have been doing a bit of tidying for Alison and Hugh’s imminent arrival. It’s funny how our normal level of cleanliness- which I like to think is perfectly acceptable - suddenly seems a bit shabby when guests are going to be spending the night here. * Also, we found a mouse strolling around the kitchen earlier this morning, presumably a gift from the cats to welcome Alison and Hugh. I hope that they haven’t left any more surprises. **  My hero Ally captured the little creature and we gave it a little piece of cheese before setting it free. It was really hungry! James commented darkly, “Now it will know where to come back to if it wants more cheese.”

* Not that our lovely guests Alison & Hugh would ever say such a thing!
** Inevitably, just as we were having dinner, Flora came in through the cat flap with another live mouse in her mouth, and was swiftly intercepted by Ally.

A sunny morning in Ypres

Friday was our last day in Belgium and we really made the most of it. We walked around the city ramparts; it was very peaceful and beautiful, lined with magnificent autumnal trees and quiet apart from the sound of church bells pealing. We descended at the Menin Gate and I paid a visit to the Leonidas Chocolate Shop to purchase a few delicious souvenirs and gifts. Next stop was the “In Flanders Fields” museum which is housed in the Cloth Hall, followed by St George’s Memorial Church, where Ewan expertly (by looking it up in the register) found the Lenzie Academy plaque for its ex-pupils who died in the 1st World War. We were keen to see it because Heather went to Lenzie Academy and so did Andrew and Jennifer.  

We then left Ypres and headed for the German Cemetery at Langemark. I remembered it from our previous visit nine years ago, with its hundreds of flat dark grey markers, each marking the graves of about eight soldiers. There is also a memorial for those who could not be found or identified, for the staggering number of twenty-five thousand soldiers. Most of these were killed in the first few months of the war when the Germans were pushing forwards. It’s a sombre cemetery, shaded by oak trees.

And then it was time to make our way back to Brussels Charleroi airport. I’m glad to say that there were no delays, either on the road or plane journey - it’s always more pleasant when the end of a holiday goes smoothly. James checked the mileage on our hired car and we have travelled 695 km over the five days, not including our trip to Bruges which was by train. We have seen so much, some places revisited and  many new. It has been a unique and memorable holiday with great company. 

Tasting chocolate in Bruges

While we were at the early planning stages of our holiday in France and Belgium, Heather suggested a day in Bruges and we all decided that it was a splendid idea. So this morning (Thursday) at 9.15 a.m. we turned up bright eyed and bushy tailed at Ypres railway station to take the train to Bruges. This early start meant that we had all day to explore the beautiful medieval city at our leisure. It was another gloriously sunny day, with not a cloud in the sky, and we had a fantastic time. We took a boat tour on the canal, and James and Heather expertly took us on a self guided city walk. We ate lunch sitting outside in a wee cobbled square, and climbed the 366 steps up the Belfry (towers are made to be climbed!) from which we could see all the way to the sea at Zeebrugge.
We briefly visited the Church of Our Lady, where we saw the tomb of Mary, the 15th century Duchess of Burgundy and the Low Countries, who died in a riding accident when she was only twenty-five. Her effigy looks so young and beautiful, wearing a jewelled hair net and a little crown. I was very moved by this for some reason; unlike some effigies she looks very real.
And of course we visited several of the chocolate shops for which Bruges is famous and were offered samples to try! By the time we took the train back to Ypres in the evening I was exhausted, although I was hungry enough for another lovely Belgian dinner in one of the restaurants on the Großmarkt. It was a truly perfect day.

Vimy Ridge and the Menin Gate

We left Amiens on Wednesday morning and travelled to Ypres. On the way, we stopped at Vimy Ridge. We joined a tour which took us into the tunnels underneath No Man’s Land. I was surprised at how close the trenches are to each other. We walked along the line of the battle to the memorial which is at its highest point. It was bright white in the sunshine and I felt that it is very dignified and beautiful; it can be seen from miles around. 

We pressed on towards Ypres and stopped at Zonnebeke for lunch, in a café called Koklicoo. We speculated about he meaning of its name, with the front runner being “Silly cow”. However it actually means Poppy! (similar to the French “coquelicot”).

Tynecot was very busy with school parties, which made it even hard for me to imagine the battle there, but its size was sobering, with many of the soldiers unidentified, so written on their gravestones was “Known unto God”. On the memorial wall we found the name of another relative of Heather’s, James Kessack of the Cameronians. 

It was lovely to walk around Ypres in the evening sunshine. We had a drink in the Albertus café before the Menin Gate Ceremony. We were there to lay a wreath to remember our three Scottish soldiers; Hugh Anderson, Neil Chisholm and James Kessack. It was very crowded but we were ushered to a separate (and delightfully central) area with the other “wreath-layers”. At this point Ewan recognised that a person standing just beside us was in fact Peter Jackson, who directed the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit films. I think that he was with his partner, Fran Walsh the screen-writer, and possibly their son. I was suitably amazed, and thanks to Ewan we even knew why he was there this year. Ewan had just been telling us this week that Peter Jackson has recently made a ninety minute film, commissioned by the Imperial War Museum, by colourising footage from the 1st World War. He also employed experts to lip read what the soldiers were saying in the newsreel and arranged for actors to voice what they were saying. I’m really looking forward to watching it. The Last Post was sounded, then Peter Jackson spoke the lines by Binyon,

“They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old ...” which always makes me feel very emotional. There was a minute’s silence and then the wreath laying took place. There were about six small groups, and we were signalled to come forward in turn. The four of us crossed the road side by side, and walked up the short flight of steps to lay our wreath, then we bowed and walked back to our place in single file as instructed. The reveillé sounded and the short dignified ceremony was over.

Dinner was at the cosy Klein Stadthuis right beside the Cloth Hall. My Flemish stew and café gourmand were absolutely delicious.

The Somme

On Tuesday morning we visited a few memorial sites around the Somme area. We started with the Canadian Newfoundland Memorial at Beaumont-Hamel. A friendly young Canadian guide told us about the battle, which started on 1st July 2016 and finally ended in November of the same year, with only a couple of kilometres of ground gained. She was very informative and I felt that I learned a lot. We walked round the battlefield on our own afterwards and you can still see the trenches and shell holes, although due to the erosion of time they are less deep than they once were. You could see the layout of the battlefield very clearly. At the Highlanders memorial a pupil from a secondary school in Alloa was playing the bagpipes to honour all of these young men who died when they were only a few years older than he is now. A small graveyard had the most gorgeous yellow roses in full bloom; I’m still struggling with reconciling the undoubted beauty of these memorial sites with the horrific battles that happened there. I try to imagine what it must have been like but it’s too peaceful and verdant (even the graveyards, which are beautifully tended).

Thiepval was our next destination and we looked for and found the name of Heather’s relative, Neil Chisholm, a solider of the Middlesex regiment, who is commemorated there because when he died aged twenty-three in 1917 his body was never identified. Nearby, we visited Lochnagar Crater which is huge, and has been turned into a memorial too. It was created by the British setting off explosives that had been tunnelled in beneath the German lines on the first day of the battle of the Somme. 

Flying Buttresses in Amiens

From the window of our little hotel in Amiens we have an amazing close up view of 13th century Amiens Cathedral, which is just across the road. We have been incredibly lucky with our weather this holiday and the gothic cathedral, complete with flying buttresses and gargoyles, is set against a cloudless blue sky.
Our charmingly quirky hotel used to be a priory and has a disturbingly uneven staircase and wooden beams sloping everywhere. It is run by the very helpful Thibaud, who gave us useful advice on things to do and places to eat. His first recommendation was of course to visit the cathedral. He asked if we had ever visited Notre Dame in Paris. When we replied in the affirmative he informed us proudly that two Notre Dames could fit inside Amiens Cathedral.
When we visited it on Tuesday afternoon we were not disappointed; it is not only lofty and spacious but bright too, with light streaming in through the stained glass windows. Painted sculptures depict biblical scenes and there are plenty of statues, chapels and paintings. The outside facade is very imposing with a multitude of statues of kings and saints.
We then went on a very unusual boat trip; the Hortillonages. Right in the centre of Amiens, beside the River Somme, there is a network of small canals and islands, started by the Romans and developed in the Middle Ages by draining marshes in order to grow vegetables. It is truly amazing that this peaceful area, only accessible by boat, exists in the middle of a bustling city. Our forty minute boat trip was a pleasure and Ewan pointed out that it was the location for the boat trip in the first part of Sebastian Faulks’ novel Birdsong.

Paying our respects

Today we visited the grave of James’ great uncle Hugh Anderson at Fins New British Cemetery for the second time; this time to mark the centenary of his death. I found the experience very moving and I know that James did too. We had brought a little purple heather from Scotland which we planted at his grave, in the hope that it will flourish there. Heather kindly watered it with her water bottle as the soil was rather dry, and we also left a little wooden cross with a poppy on it. Heather and Ewan were very supportive of how much this visit meant to us. Then we left the neat little cemetery with its rows of white gravestones bright in the sunshine and continued on our way towards Amiens.

We had strolled around the centre of the pleasant city of Mons in the morning; I rubbed the head of the brass monkey at the magnificent town hall with my left hand in order to earn a whole year of good luck! A couple of kilometres out from the centre we visited the monument marking where the forces of the British Empire fought both the first and last battles of the 1st World War in 1914 and 1918. And we also visited the nearby St Symphorien cemetery, where the first and last soldiers to be killed in the war are buried just across from each other. On this sunny morning, St Symphorien cemetery, with its glades of trees and little hills, looked too lovely to be a place of death. And yet maybe these young men deserved their final resting place to be beautiful.

Then we crossed the border to France where we found our way to tiny Honnecourt sur Escaut, where Hugh Anderson was wounded in September 1918 while attempting to cross the St Quentin Canal (he died of his wounds a couple of weeks later.) It was lunch time but the hamlet had no café, so on the advice of some friendly locals we set off to Gouzeaucourt, where we were promised a choice of cafés and restaurants. How wrong that advice turned out to be! The village was well and truly closed for lunch! Nothing daunted we went into the delightful Boulangerie Soufflet and bought ourselves an excellent picnic. Opposite the boulangerie we noticed a potato dispenser set into a wall - a slot machine for potatoes - I have never seen such a thing before! We consumed our picnic while sitting on the low wall which separates the cemetery at nearby Fins from the surrounding sugar beet fields, before paying our respects to Hugh Anderson.

Arrival in Belgium

I am writing this in our hotel in Mons on the first leg of our holiday in Belgium and France. We visited this area nine years ago with Ally and Davie and decided to return this year because it is the hundredth anniversary of the end of the First World War and also, sadly, the hundredth anniversary of the death of James’ Great Uncle Hugh. He died on 4th October 1918, just over a month before the end of the war. He was only twenty-three years old. Heather and Ewan are with us this time and we will also be visiting the Tynecot cemetery where the name of one of Heather’s relatives, Neil Chisholm, is on the memorial. He died in 1917 and was also aged twenty-three.
The hotel is nice and I’m glad that we have arrived safely after a rather difficult journey (for me!) I stupidly left my passport in the toilet at Edinburgh Airport and had to dash back to find it. However it wasn’t there, and just as I was asking the staff in the nearby Wetherspoon’s if anyone had seen it, I heard my name being paged - it had been handed in at the the gate where we were to board. I had got such a fright and had to run quite a distance to try to find it and I felt very upset, which must have been obvious as I ran back to join the others and apologised profusely. Luckily we were still in good time for our flight, the passengers were still boarding and there was plenty of room for our small cases in the overhead lockers. I cried quietly during the first part of the flight. Perhaps because I was still upset, I stumbled badly as we got off the flight and if James hadn’t caught me I would have gone right down. Not the best plane journey that I have ever had!
However after a bit of a wait for our hired car, the half hour drive to the hotel went smoothly; the roads were nice and quiet and the others helped me by navigating as I drove. I’m so tired.

Kilt Saga

I derive a great deal of satisfaction from successfully completing a task, especially one that has been on my “to do” list for a while. An example of this took place recently when Ally asked me to make an appointment for him to get his kilt altered; someone had told him that it is too long.* So I phoned the family kilt makers (who have been making kilts for the Andersons for three generations) and they said that he could pop in that weekend to get it checked. So far so good, but it reminded me that we had an unresolved kilt issue that had been annoying me for a couple of years. When David had his kilt made, it wasn’t quite right; it sat wrongly at the front. We contacted the shop but then I kind of lost track of what was arranged, meanwhile David has continued to use the faulty kilt. I should have chased it up but life was busy and I never got round to it. As it happened, David was due to come home the same weekend that Ally was sorting out his kilt, so I leaped into action and arranged for him to bring his kilt with him and accompany Ally. I wanted to go with them but they pointed out that I really wasn’t needed now that they are both in their twenties!
When they returned home they had excellent news. David had explained that his kilt had never fitted properly and the tailor said “Is your name David Anderson?” and produced a brand new kilt which had been awaiting him in the shop for more than three years! I cannot describe the delight that this result brought me! I was considerably more excited about the outcome than anyone else in the family. So this may seem like a very trivial thing to blog about - but it made me very happy!

* Ally’s kilt turned out not to be too long and James joked that whoever told him that must wear their kilt at mid thigh length!

The end of a visit

I love to read and I enjoy both of my book clubs very much. This evening I arrived late at my Cambuslang book club because I had been taking Jamie to the airport for his return to New Zealand. I will not dwell on this as I found it rather difficult; I realise that I’m so lucky in these days of modern communication that I will be able to chat to him face to face via my computer screen any time I like - but it’s not the same as having him right here and being able to give him a hug. So it was with a heavy heart that I watched him walking away down to security, turning just before he disappeared round the corner to give us a final wave.

Just as well that I went to my book club, because pleasant company and book chat were just the distraction that I needed. As is our wont at this time of year we were discussing our summer holiday reading, and I got some good recommendations of books to read. On my way home I reflected on how bereft I sometimes feel when I finish a book that I have really enjoyed. I get so involved with the characters and story that I don’t want it to end. I felt that recently with Cloudstreet, although when it has a good ending there is also a sense of satisfaction. 

Similarly, I feel really sad that this lovely visit from Jamie has come to an end - but it has been a marvellous three weeks. 

The new Dundee V&A

Today Jamie and I went on a wee road trip to Dundee. We met David for lunch which was great, he is working so hard in his lab but he took an hour out to see his big brother before he goes back to New Zealand. The views from outside the Bridge View Station café over the Tay were beautiful today; the water looked like molten glass and the sky was an amazing cream and turquoise which drew you towards it. As we looked at the view two gulls came flying so low over the water that I’m sure that their wings touched it, and their reflections were perfectly mirrored in the soft, smooth river.
Then Jamie and I went to the new V&A Museum down at the waterfront. The council have been planning and then slowly building this since Jamie was studying in Dundee and it has taken a long time to come to fruition. It finally opened a couple of weeks ago with great fanfare so I was keen to see it for myself. Jamie was more impressed with the architecture than I was; he felt that it fitted in very well in its surroundings but I thought that there was too much granite and not enough glass. It looks better up close and I must admit that the interplay of stone and water works well.
Inside it is very spacious and has a minimalist feel. I couldn’t help wondering where were all the exhibits because downstairs there are a lot of unevenly spaced wooden panels (I presume that they are unevenly spaced for aesthetic purposes) and a cafeteria, but not much else. However there was more to see upstairs; a room full of miscellaneous Scottish design including a Mackintosh tea room interior, and an exhibition about ocean liners. The exhibition was very well put together and much more interesting than I had anticipated; it included design, engineering, art and fashion.
Back home in the evening with James and Alasdair we all had Domino’s Pizza for tea at Jamie’s request and watched the film Solo. Apparently they do have Domino’s Pizza in New Zealand but it’s not as good as the Scottish version!

Wedding!

The last couple of weeks have been centred round a wedding - Jamie was Best Man at Chris and Stacey’s wedding on Saturday, and the week before that he was in charge of organising the stag do.
He had booked most of it from New Zealand and when he arrived in Scotland he had to confirm and fine tune all of the arrangements. The revellers spent the weekend in a big house beside Loch Lomond; it was very luxurious with an outdoor hot tub. They went paint-balling in the morning and then went on a speedboat pub crawl around Loch Lomond in the afternoon, ending up with a pub tea at the Oak Tree Inn. It went really well and was enjoyed by all, and most importantly Chris loved it.
The wedding itself was a truly joyous occasion. It was held in Dumfries House, which is a beautiful stately home near Cumnock in Ayrshire. We have never visited it before but we will certainly make a point of going back to explore it and the park around it. Stacey was absolutely stunning in her gorgeous dress, and Chris looked like the happiest man on the planet! The ceremony was very moving and intimate in one of the 18th century drawing rooms, and then we were given a really fascinating tour of the house * while the bridal party had their photographs taken - it was an inspired idea because it was genuinely interesting, and the time flew by until dinner. Chris also had a special surprise for Stacey; he had arranged for her favourite horse to be brought to the front of the house!
Another great idea was that the speeches took place before the meal so that the folk at the top table could all relax and enjoy their food after the speeches were over - the food by the way was first class. Stacey’s Dad had many of us in tears when he recited a spoken version of the Heartland song “I loved her first” with baroque music playing in the background. Then Chris’s speech was so heartfelt and moving, he was overcome with emotion when addressing his new bride and it was so sweet, resulting in more tears from the guests. And finally came Best Man Jamie, who had written his speech incorporating some great ideas from his Auntie Jennifer, and had practised it to me and James and Alasdair many times. He was fantastic! His speech was amusing, as befits a Best Man’s speech, but also very affectionate and there were yet more tears from the guests when he finished by saying to Stacey, “Thank you for making my best friend so happy.”
The evening continued with much dancing and fun, I was impressed by David and Chanel’s lively dance moves ** and James and I were not slow to get on the dance door ourselves and throw a few shapes! All good things must come to an end, and after we all sang and danced to “500 miles” and “Loch Lomond” we made our way to the quaint and very comfortable Stair Inn where the four of us spent the night. What a great wedding!

*  The guide told us all about the history of the house, built by Robert Adam for the Earl of Dumfries in the 1750s, and how it was furnished sumptuously by Thomas Chippendale and leading Scottish cabinet makers to attract a bride so that he could have an heir (sadly he didn’t). The house then changed hands through the centuries, and eventually was saved from being sold in 2007 by Prince Charles who set up a trust to restore and preserve it.

** Ally and Cat were not able to be at Chris and Stacey’s wedding because they were at another wedding (Cat’s cousin’s wedding in London).