Last night we went 'en famille' to a School music concert. I have to confess I was not feeling very enthusiastic about it but SYD was singing and I haven't seen her do that for a while. SED wasn't keen to go either and made sure that because it was a school thing, that she dressed accordingly 'scruffy' - teenage rebellion takes many forms!
The orchestra started with Mendelssohn's "Hebrides" Overture and immediately I was blown away. I tried to remind myself that this was a school orchestra - these musicians were only aged between 12yrs and 18yrs and it was wonderful. I must have been in an emotional frame of mind because about six bars in I felt the tears stinging my eyes. SO loves the fact that I get so passionate about things but I was desparately trying to fight it for fear of making a total fool of myself. SYD's choir sang next and three bars into Puccini's "O Mio Babbino Caro" and the same overwhelming feeling of emotion engulfed me. How can these young people be so talented? How can the teachers be so dedicated to getting the best out of them - and they did. I know at times SYD is not very interested in rehersing any of her pieces but once they are on stage all together something wonderul does happen.
The main piece of the evening was Benjamin Britten's 'St Nicolas' and I don't think a professionl choir could have sung it much better. About a hundred voices (albeit including one professional tenor) brought this piece to life.
I was so proud to be there. It was made even more poignant because the conductor - one of the senior music teachers in the school was retiring and this was his final concert. As he wiped the tears from his eyes, so did I. What a way to end your career.
posted by Red Writer
Sunday, March 28
A wonderful walk in the sunshine beside the sea is one of the best ways to be reminded that the world can be a better place. So I took, SYD and SED off to visit family in St Andrews. It turned out to be a lovely weekend. Saturday night there was much reminiscing and laughing over old photographs and shared memories. On Sunday it was very blustery on the shore but great fun for the sand buggys/surfers and kites.
posted by Red Writer
"Have faith in the wind-blown clouds, Feel the passion of the burning sun, Embrace your journey"
Yesterday, I mentioned to one of my sisters that I was lost without my sketchbooks since I handed them in with my portfolio. Today she gave me a lovely journal which she'd bought for my birthday. The above verse was on the inside....It's the thoughtful presents which mean the most.
posted by Red Writer
Friday, March 26
The man says offer some compassion - so anyone need some compassion?
posted by Red Writer
Don't read if you can't be bothered with a self-indulgent public moan. But no-one else will listen to me. It's not been a good week. Being reminded again that my job is nothing more to some than beurocratic rubbish makes for great feelings of purpose, usefulness and direction in life, closely followed by waves of self loathing and a general feeling of questionning my existance.
Added to which, along with everyone else who hates me both kids do at the moment because I attempt to instill a little parental guidance, but I guess it's pointless trying to speak to teenagers who don't want to listen. Arguments, attitudes, sulks galore again and to top it all SO left at 5am this morning on a rugby jolly to Dublin leaving me alone with the little darlings all weekend.
Needless to say I couldn't get back to sleep after that and have been pottering about aimlessley trying to keep out of everyone's way since then for fear of more confrontations. I contemplated spring cleaning today but the wounded side of me wonders why I should bother when no-one else in the house does. I did put one load of washing on but don't feel like adding much more to the 3ft high pile of ironing that no-one else seems to want to tackle either. How did I manage to instill such an unhelpful gene into my children. Take, take, take.... But then I guess that's all part of being a parent. You have to remember to keep loving them when you know they wish you dead.
And it's grey and rainy outside which makes going out less tempting. If there wasn't a mad sex attacker around I might have done some walking. As I'm still waiting to hear about the portfolio and feel bad vibes about that, I can't even be bothered to pick up a pencil or paint brush. Ah well, looks like the book, the messy house to contemplate and at least six bars of chocolate.
On the other hand I guess I could pull myself together, be grateful for all the good things (which I'm sure I could think if the black mood would bugger off) do the washing, ironing, tidying and perhaps even some baking for them coming home from school. I guess one of us has to pretend to be adult.
posted by Red Writer
Thursday, March 25
I've never seen cats having sex before.
Not that I feel a great sense of missing out on anything and I have absolutely no predeliction in that direction.....but now that I've started writing this I realise how strange an introduction it may sound so for fear that it is now going where I have no urge to go, I'll start again.
Cat's apparently have no shame! Or to qualify that, the cat's in my street have no shame. There they were, in broad daylight in the middle of the pavement. Tom and pretty little black cat....as happy as...well as happy as two cat's can be I suppose - although she looked a little sheepish - or maybe just bored!. It was a surreal moment. I'm glad I was driving and not the man who had to step over them as they...well you get the picture.
The look of bemusement on the man's face was a picture and yes, he did look back after he walked past. Perhaps he was as surprised as I was.
You know these couples who sit in the corner of the bar thinking no-one can see them and you want to say 'get a room' to, well I contemplated that remark then realised it would be as inappropriate to a cat as it would be for me to say it. However, I did think something along the lines of 'get some cover'!
I don't know why I found it weird, I guess cat's have as much right as any animal to exercise their basic instinct during the day. But it just seemed less than discrete for my sensitive suburban Edinburgh eyes. I thought cats were more....more private. All I can say, given that it's Spring, is thank God the birds are in the trees!
posted by Red Writer
Wednesday, March 24
It's not every night you get to a) sit in the same row as b) sit next to at the interval and c) talk to, - albeit just to say how much I enjoyed it - at the bar after the show....the author of the play we went to see last night.
Des Dillon, author of 'Six Black Candles' seemed genuinely delighted with the reception his play received at The Lyceum Theatre. The story, inspired by the halloween "witchcraft" antics of his sisters in a council flat in Monklands to "take revenge on the girlfriend of one of their husbands", is rich with the culture and language of the time and place in which it is set.
Dillon himself calls it a "carnivalesque" play. And it was indeed colourful, vibrant and very funny. At times it would appear too colourful and raw for the handlebar moustached gentleman in the row in front of me! There were good performances by all the actors and it seems unfair to highlight particular ones but for me Eileen McCallum, (Granny) Jennifer Black (Wendy) and Gabriel Quigly (Donna) were excellent. As usual, the Lyceum stage setting was brilliant in it's perceived simplicity. This is a snippet of life as you don't often see. It's a very brave piece of writing, and certainly worth watching.
posted by Red Writer
Monday, March 22
My knee cap is in the wrong place! Apparently the muscles aren't doing their job properly to keep it there - hardly surprising since my total body muscle fitness is about zilch these days. So the nice physiotherapist gave me some excercises to do whilst sitting at my desk - probably give me a more strange expression than normal as I try to concentrate on what my knee is doing. The standing ones are a bit better - more akin to the initial tai chi pose.
I think the basic strategy is to strengthen the quadriceps (thigh) muscles so they keep the kneecap in the right position. But years of sedentary desk jobs and a total dislike of the whole gym culture mean that my quadriceps haven't been very strong since I stopped playing hockey when I left school and they probably weren't that great then. The odd hillwalk doesn't seem to have worked for me and I find myself in a depressed state of a mid life fitness crisis. Realistically I know if I do nothing about it things can only get worse. I guess I have to start excercising. I HATE excercise - unless its hill walking.
I think my portfolio will be assessed tomorrow and today I find myself thinking - what are you doing this for, you're too old.
Go away nasty thoughts, get thee behind me and keep me eternally young - at least in mind if not body!
posted by Red Writer
Sunday, March 21
For a mother's day treat SED and SYD took me to see a film. It was meant to be Mona Lisa Smile but the cinema had swapped the showing we went to for Under the Tuscan Sun. It was good. I've heard nothing about it and don't even know if it is a new film or an old one rolled out again. Even the official website doesn't seem to work. But I really enjoyed it and it was nice to be there with the girls. Just the kind of escapism required when feeling like rugby widow again. And there was the added bonus of seeing Raoul Bova (looking very like ideal man - see 3rd March pic). However, the storyline was a good reminder that perfect looking tends to go with shallow, arrogant and rat. The "tag-line" of the story is "Life offers you a thousand chances ... all you have to do is take one" and there are lots of other philosophical quips which can be gleaned from the film. Diane Lane was good but Lindsay Duncan (born in Edinburgh) as Katherine played her character really well. The most overwhelming feeling I had when leaving the cinema was - I want a villa in Tuscany! Which means I have to make sure that when that chance comes around I grab it with both hands and dig my nails in until I'm sure it won't get away. Oh yes, and the other line used a lot was something like, always hold onto your childlike innocence!
posted by Red Writer
Thursday, March 18
If you are fed up with searching Google and getting predictably accurate results, why not try Banana Slug as an alternative.
And a truly educational site (!!!!) - Interactive Frog Dissection will teach you all the things you missed when avoiding those biology classes. Make sure you have a ready prepared frog - but then again maybe any old toad would do!
posted by Red Writer
Wednesday, March 17
As if fate were on my shoulder, I found this site documenting the after effects of Chernobyl via Dio's weblog. Have a look. Take your time and think what destructive forces man's folly can cause. Enough to make you stop feeling sorry for yourself. And if that wasn't enough for me to be grateful for, my truly self-indulgent purchases from Amazon just arrived.
posted by Red Writer
Do you ever get those awful insecure days? Days when everything everyone does or says affects what you think about life, yourself, your confidence? Today I'm going to hand in my port-folio and I have an overwhelming feeling that it's just not good enough. This has escalated into a general feeling of just not being good enough at everything. I guess the feelings will pass eventually but just occassionally it would be good to know that I would never feel like that again.
posted by Red Writer
Friday, March 12
I just opened an email account I don't check very often and got these: 4th March "Dear ..... You Dad has given me your e-mail address should I need to contact him in connection with the ......sale while he is on holiday....." "Is it possible to contact your dad and ask that he checks his e-mails on board the ship......" 11th March "Sorry - I need to contact your dad one last time..." ".....is it possible to contact him again and ask him to check his e-mails?"
I found these particularly upsetting for several reasons: 1. This is my personal home email address - i.e. the one with my full name on it, so you'd think whoever was writing to me would know me or that I had given them my address. And cosequently would know ... 2. My Dad died several years ago, which meant that when I read the first line, I thought it was some kind of sick joke or a hoax or maybe even an email virus. 3. The emails were from a supposedly legitimate Solicitor in Perth. 4. Said Solicitor, whilst speaking to me on the phone - once I had finished explained how upsetting and tasteless I had found his emails - kept referring to this mysterious wealthy sailor as "your Dad" and how he had given him the email address in the first place. How stupid are you Mr Solicitor? It is not MY Dad! Remember....I said he was already dead. 5. Chatty, stammery, apologetic Mr Solicitor, as if to add insult to injury, had the ordacity to say that it would have been worse had my Dad died more recently.
Excuse me!!!???
posted by Red Writer
Wednesday, March 10
I can see this from my window. It's less than two miles from my house. Do I feel twitchy because of the most recent sex attack? Yes. Following on from the comments in yesterday's rant, I feel very twitchy. The responsibility I now feel towards my daughters is to tell them they are no longer allowed to walk home alone. They walk past here most days. It means until the little **** is found, my kids and others like them will have to take the bus, make sure they don't walk along lonely paths and generally become more paranoid. Where does that sit in the 'encourage kids to be active' campaigns the Scottish Executive keep trying to advertise? Walk to school? Not bloody likely. This was not a secluded place. I walk up and down the steps they mention quite a lot. What drives someone to behave like this? How desparate a soul must they be? How do the police reassure people like me it's still safe to walk to and from my own home? Why do the actions of a few ruin the confidence of many?
posted by Red Writer
Tuesday, March 9
I've never really thought much about the mental process of getting old. No-one really wants to get old but what happens when you realise that it's not just physical things that change. What happens when you think society has changed and suddenly you find yourself with a whole set of different morals than the generations below you or the people around you? When you find yourself sounding more like your grandparents than your peers? Should the morals of any society change as time passes? Is it a good thing? What happens to society if it changes so imperceptibly gradually until we find ourselves on a huge downward slide into what our pre-decessors would consider a dark abyss? We all laugh now at the days of Mary Whitehouse and her watchdog type of censorship on TV and how "old fashioned" her ideals now seem to so many. But was she right? Do we as a society need someone to stand up and say, no that is not acceptible to put on television at this time of night. Or no, that is not acceptable behaviour. Who feels they have the right to speak up in the days of social liberalism without sounding like some freak wanting to introduce a nanny state? When no-body has the right to tell anyone else how they should live their lives how do we secure the "good" and honest and true things in life when most of the time the "bad" things are perceived as more fun? Where do the boundaries lie? What hope is left for our moral standards?
Today I feel very old and very out of touch with society.
posted by Red Writer
Monday, March 8
Yesterday morning, I was lying in bed watching a programme about how unfit we all are and was getting more and more guilty for the almost long lie I was trying to have. It just wasn't going to feel good after that so I dragged SO up Arthur's Seat (the new St Leonards path). Only another four of those and it would be the same as Ben Nevis. We managed up the hill quite painlessly and effortlessly, despite being pessimistic about our overall fitness - maybe it's not so bad as we thought and I did overtake the three year old!
Today I posted the application for the part time Art degree.....it makes it all the more real somehow. Won't hear for about a month or so but wish me luck.
posted by Red Writer
Saturday, March 6
A couple of art stories to spark debate!
"To say that photography is dead is faintly ludicrous. It would be better to say that you should be wary of everything." The response from Eammon McCabe, former picture editor at the Guardian, to David Hockney's latest controversial comments on digital photography.
The faint hearted should not read this paragraph. No matter how serious I may get about art, I will not be painting in blood. It's almost as gross as menstual art. No matter how much I try to appreciate it, and because I am female, I feel I should appreciate it, I find it totally turns my stomach. But because it is a free country and someone out there may be interested in it and of course purely for research, there is a slightly longer and more thoughtful description of it here. I've used tea, coffee, soap and many other things to paint with but as far as experimentation goes, bodily fluids will not make it to my canvas. Excuse me while I get back to my manufactured acrylics.
posted by Red Writer
In my real world, we took a wander around the many private art galleries of the Edinburgh's New Town this morning. Someone is always having an opening in at least one of them. Unfortunatly that draws many of the pretentious arty types I can't abide, however I do love browsing and seeing who is exhibiting. Today was an opening for Pam Carter but we also managed to see works by Tom Watt, (fantastic use of colours and light - like Cezzane but brighter) Claire Harrigan and Bonnie Thompson, Alexander Robb and Charles Simpson. I will add them to my Scottish Artist links soon. Next week Stephen MacGruer and Carolyn Rockwood (couldn't find a page for Carolyn but a couple of her paintings are on this site - scroll down to see them) exhibit at the Torrance Gallery. Sometimes you even get a glass of wine if you are brazen enough to gate crash!
With the deadline for the almost non-existant admission portfolio looming, I decided it was time to invest in a proper easle as the desk-top one just isn't big enough and I prefer to stand. So this afternoon I purchased a lightweight wooden one. It's cool. Now I feel like a proper artist. I was also pleased with the lovely reference my tutor gave me yesterday for my application. He's so sweet. I just hope it helps.
Oh, and today's rugby was Scotland v Italy in Rome. Lucky friends are there but we're not. Rome would have been lovely. Except that they lost!
Outside it has been sunny for most of today but as I look out of the window now, a huge black cloud is overhead, creeping and then hovering like an alien spaceship, casting very dark shaddows over everything. I think it's about to snow or at least torrential rain.
posted by Red Writer
In my real world, we took a wander around the many little art galleries of the Edinburgh's New Town this morning. Someone is always having an opening in at least one of them. Unfortunatly that draws many of the pretentious arty types I can't abide, however I do love browsing and seeing who is exhibiting. Today was an opening for Pam Carter but we also managed to see works by Tom Watt, (fantastic use of colours and light - like Cezzane but brighter) Claire Harrigan and Bonnie Thompson and Charles Simpson. I will add them to my Scottish Artist links soon. Next week Stephen MacGruer and Carolyn Rockwood exhibit at the Torrance Gallery. Sometimes you even get a glass of wine if you are brazen enough to gate crash!
With the deadline for the almost non-existant portfolio looming, I decided it was time to invest in a proper easle as the desk-top one just isn't big enough and I prefer to stand. So this afternoon I purchased a lightweight wooden one. It's cool. Now I feel like a proper artist. I was also pleased with the lovely reference my tutor gave me yesterday for the application. He's so sweet. I just hope it helps.
Oh, and today's rugby was Scotland v Italy in Rome. Lucky friends are there but we're not. Rome would have been lovely. Except that they lost!
posted by Red Writer
Wednesday, March 3
I just got my hair cut - over four inches - only one person has noticed.
It's the little things that make me smile. Today I believe in the sock fairy! Hunting around for a "pair" of socks to put on this morning I had to did unusually deep into the recesses of the drawer - knowing that most of them were lying in a heap of washing to be sorted out downstairs - but lo and behold I found a brand new, never been worn, pair of socks. A stray pair from a multipack bought about six months ago. That or the sock fairy visited during the night and put them there. It made me very happy. Sad but true.
posted by Red Writer
Tuesday, March 2
"This programme is......entertainment for animals" They got that right then!
posted by Red Writer
Monday, March 1
A recent search for a new desktop image took me to this page and this one (reminded me of the cognitive distortion site before you had to register or get the images with banners all over them). Further searching took me to Terry Livingstone's outdoor photography site. An image of calm led me here and I liked what it said. I am learning to firewalk. On Sunday I went to the beach and watched the sea.
