Archive for June 2011
I feel like it’s been ages since I actually used this blog to say something inane and unimportant. I don’t really like to rant online, it must be something to do with the way I was brought up. I like to save my verbal tirades for when we’re fast tracking to the bottom of a bottle of wine and contemplating the next. What can I say – I’m an analogue girl at heart.
So let’s have a chat about the peacock instead. Now I’m not a botanist or ornithologist (or whatever ‘ist’ you are that makes you an expert in these things) but there is something so gloriously camp about the bootie shaking, showoff that is the Peacock.
In fact, the next time, the Christian far right start banging on about how ‘gay’ does not exist in nature, I think someone should wheel on the splendid, Vegas-style cabaret that is the Peacock Show and say:
“Your Honour, Exhibit A”
If the Peacock was a singer, he’d be Shirley Bassey.
If the Peacock was an item of clothing, he’d be a sequined catsuit.
If the Peacock was a drink, he’d be a Bacardi Breezer.
If the Peacock was a pair of shoes, he’d be a set of 9 inch heels in Size 10.
“I rest my case. Your Honour.”
|Kinetic Sculptures @ Teviot last week created by Christiaan Zwanikkem who features in the film Convento.I’m sad the Edinburgh Film Festival is all over for another year now. It’s been fantastic, I’ve seen some great films and if they weren’t great, then they were still worth discussing with a glass (or bottle) of wine afterwards.
Or perhaps, just a good excuse for the wine!
Big stadium gigs (are they still gigs when they’re on this scale?) aren’t something I’m very familiar with – more through laziness than anything else, the idea of spending a morning on redial putting me off straight away. So tickets for the Take That show on Thursday night came by default.
I can see why people love Take That. The show was a visual spectacle on a scale you won’t see very often and if you’re a devoted fan, them boys sure know how to entertain. I like them. Honestly. I didn’t know any of their latest music (and very little of their earlier music too) which made me feel slightly fraudulent being there. And I was quite terrified by the scale of the event – it’s not often you spend the evening with 47,000 drunk Glaswegians (drunk on Robbie? Mark? or Carling Black Label? Not sure which had the highest proof).
But anyway, it was great fun. We escaped early to avoid the crush and I loved the burger vans lining the path to the Stadium. Five minutes after this and 47,000 hungry Take That fans would all be craving burgers and chips.
I haven’t quite finished with the Last Man Hanged photos but at the moment the Edinburgh Film Festival is on so I’m going to digress slightly as I wanted to post a picture of the Israeli film director, Eyal Sivan. He was in conversation on the subject of Palestine on Film on Saturday afternoon but talking also about films he made on the Eichmann trial (The Specialist) and surveillance in the DDR (I love you all) as well as a film about the Israeli education system and the role of memory in shaping the Israeli identity (Izkor: Slaves of Memory).
He was totally inspiring, such a huge intellect, driven by passion, highly critical of Zionism and totalitarianism of all kinds – I could have sat all afternoon listening to what he had to say.
He kindly allowed me to take his photo in the bar afterwards.
John and Ben, the second dream team. Riding hats off to John for organising and realising the great adventure. I’m hoping that, in his next genealogical exploration, he discovers a relative that had a horse stolen by a Moor, who he chased down through the French alps, into Spain and possibly on to North Africa somewhere. I’m in again for that trip – and happy to fabricate any historic documents in order to make it happen. I have the coffee, parchment and wobbly handwriting at the ready – just say the word!
Finally I’m going to begin sharing some pictures with you from the great adventure we had a couple of weeks ago. We were following these majestic horses on their ride through the highlands, retracing the route of a chase that took place 200 years ago. The chase to recover a stolen horse, tracked by way of a broken horse shoe.
We may not have been able to quite emulated the sense and atmosphere of that original trek in some places, with our high visibility vests and uber-flashing magnetic sirens, when forced by necessity off the old drovers routes and onto the main arterial roads though the highlands.
But it was there at other times, the quiet times, with just horses, riders, mountains flanking on all sides, dramatic and menacing skies above. In the solidity of these beautiful animals. It was there in the kindness and generosity we received a long the way. In the hospitality of strangers who found beds for us all – horses, riders, support crew – and cooked us a breakfast for Kings (and Queens with healthy appetites) each morning. It was there in the rowdy beer filled bars, in racing across Rannoch Moor to meet the horses coming the other way. It was there in the relentless rain. And in spite of the relentless rain.
And watch out for more photos of it here.