I saw this clip recently, from Yvonne Lyon– who is a wonderful singer and a lovely person who comes from just over the water from us. Thought it was time to give her a shout…
She and her husband David will be at Solas if you want to hear more…
Vodpod videos no longer available.
It is not too late to get tickets to SOLAS.
Solas is a Scottish faith and arts based festival which will be taking place over the 25th-27th of June, at Whiston, near Biggar. If you can support this festival- please do, as it is something that could be really important for the future landscape of faith in this country.
This is the first of what is hoped to be a a series of such festivals- and owes its origin to Greenbelt Festival in England. Here is the full programme-
I have been doing a lot of ‘wild’ camping over the last few years- often in places where poo-ing in porcelain is just not an option.
The rudiments of alfresco defecation have been dealt with in great detail in this book, so I will not revisit them here- much (I am sure) to your blessed relief.
However, I saw this product today, and it made me laugh…
The strongest, lightweight, compact camp trowel in the world. Use it to deposit solid human waste in a hole dug 10-15 cm deep and at least 100 metres from water-bodies, camp, tracks, and watercourses. Being collapsible and lightweight, you can carry it anywhere and it even comes with a its own sack. It’s cleverly designed handle can store a gas lighter – or more realistically toilet paper. So don’t be shy, poo with pride!
Surely litigation is inevitable? Perhaps they should have a strapline like this-
Suitable alternative toilet related captions gratefully accepted!
(I would like to make it clear that in no way does thisfragiletent endorse this product- should Apple decide to send their lawyers in my direction!)
We have just had a lovely weekend.
In many ways an ORDINARY weekend- and none the less lovely for that.
We had a lovely barbecue with friends on Saturday night to celebrate Michaela’s other birthday-
My brother Steve, his wife Kate and wee Jamie stayed over night, and we spent most of the day in Benmore Gardens, where they were having their open day- craft stalls, plants, music- and lots of sunshine.
We set up a game of cricket with some sticks as stumps and a piece of log as a bat. Lovely.
In the exhibition area in Benmore, there is an exhibition by the late Tim Stead, sculptor/carver/furniture maker/poet.
He died in 2000 aged only 48 after a long illness. This from his obituary in the Guardian
Stead made furniture for galleries, castles, cathedrals and even for Pope John Paul II for his visit to Murrayfield in 1981, yet it was the open intuitive, untutored response of ordinary people that most nourished him. People delighted in his work’s warm honesty and wanted to live with it.
That word ‘ordinary’ again. There is little that is ordinary about the wonderful pieces that Stead made. All that burr elm with its twisted and painful complexity- polished and oiled into something incredibly beautiful. joints and hinges engineered out of a knuckle of wood. Chairs fashioned out of staves of wood to look like the backbone of some long distant creature. But still it is all functional- utilitarian- ordinary.
Like today.
Today is Michaela’s unofficial birthday!
She decided to cancell her last one as it fell the day after the loss of her step father Robert. He is missed.
But today is a day for her.
Join us for a barbecue if you are local- here, 6.30ish.
The sun darkened for a while
And we grieved
But the clouds can never
Hang for long
On you my love
You warm them away
With a smile
And they retreat
In defeat
Before you-
My summer sun
And should the shadows cast a sadness
Let us remember…
Being grateful
For today the world will turn
Around you
A little
And I am held still
In this glorious
Gravity
Many years ago as an undergraduate, I studied politics.
It was the time of the labour split, and the formation of a new party called the SDP– later to merge with the Liberal party. The SDP won a few by-elections, and I remember writing essays on how this signalled a real change in British politics- a move to a three party race, and possibly the inevitable move towards proportional representation in our voting system.
Well perhaps I was premature. But the debates then are being aired again…
There was an interesting article in the Guardian discussing the Israeli system of government- with successive hung parliaments making decisive policy making next to impossible, and political alliances and wheeler-dealing the norm.
But what do I know? It would certainly make life interesting!
So, given my obvious lack of insight and expertise I thought it would be fun to make a few predictions…
So there you go- you heard it first here.
And it was probably all wrong.
Michaela ‘cancelled’ her birthday on the 9th of April, because of the sad loss of her step father the day before.
So we are going to have an extra special day this Saturday, the 8th of May.
So any friends who can join us for a barbecue from 6.30pm will be most welcome. Let me know if you can make it.
Bring a burger and a bottle…
I have always voted Labour.
For a while, my passion for a kind of politics that fought for liberty and equality was indistinguishable from my faith. Both drove me in the same direction.
I believed in a God who was more interested in the gutters of society than the doings of the well to do and famous. I became convinced that Jesus was a revolutionary, sent to call us to a way of life that promoted the last to be first and the first to be last. My heros were people who sought to live out this radical path- even where I failed.
And you know what- I still believe those things.
In the 80’s and 90’s the only party that seemed to embrace some of these views was the Labour party. It was a party in turmoil- arguing over it’s very soul. But still deep in it’s DNA was this passion for social justice and compassion for the weak and poor.
The years of power and compromise have soured so much of this image. The dispicable war in Iraq, the aparent surrender to the ‘free market’, the loss of identity in a changing world. The accommodation with the worst elements of the press on immigration.
Like many of us, I have been struggling to decide how to vote in this coming election. Could I vote for the Liberal Democrats, who are saying some things that I like? Or was there anything about the leadership of Brown that I could still believe in and celebrate?
I am not swayed by the leadership debates. They are televisual circuses that might yet lead us down a kind of politics that has dominated the USA. Beware voting for a well polished public image. We vote for policies and principles, not personalities.
I heard a story about Atlee, the labour leader who did so much to introduce the Welfare State and National Health Service. Someone quipped that an empty taxi arrived at Westminster, and he got out. But his legacy is with us still.
But still, my trust in Brown had reached a low ebb. He seemed so shambolic, so defeated.
I know a lot of men like Brown up here in Scotland. Sober, dignified, private men, who suffer no fools nor enjoy the social life. Taciturn and truculent. Men who believe still in public service.
I watched this (Thanks Jonny) and saw for the first time in this election something that really stirred me.
And made my voting choice a lot easier.
Today Michaela went to see her consultant. And he told her that he did not want to see her again.
After 26 years!
Let me explain…
Michaela was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis as a teenager- a disease resulting in ulceration of the colon, leading to severe pain, anemia, loss of blood, weight loss and lots of other things. The impact of an illness like this on a young person also resulted in all sorts of tough psychological challenges.
The illness typically goes from flare ups (leading to hospital admission, or total bed rest) then periods of relative stability. Treatment is with steroids, or imuno-suppressant medication. In Michaela’s case, this meant never feeling fully well, always lacking energy and sometimes being dangerously ill. She coped well though- most people never knew she was ill- and she was careful to avoid letting it dominate her life fully.
But she was always ill- I was looking at some old photo’s the other day taken when William was a baby. There was Michaela, like a beautiful doll. Skinny and ghost-white with anemia. How she coped with looking after a little baby I am not sure.
I got distracted- looking at all these old photographs… memories…
But anyway- on with the story. We moved to Scotland in 2002, and since then, Michaela has been well. Not just better than she was- but completely symptom free.
The doctors have been doubtful and a little puzzled, constantly asking her in for more tests, which she has increasingly resisted.
Whatever the reason, we are grateful.
And it gives me a chance to celebrate the beautiful woman (inside and out) that married me by digging out some photos.
It must be love….
We are back safe, if a little sore and stiff.
A wonderful couple of days, with showers giving way to sunshine and deep blue skies.
A camp site at the head of a bay ringed with cliffs and high hills, in direct line with the famous Corryvrecken whirlpool (the third largest in the world) which could be heard roaring at low tide from over a mile away.
Wildlife that you had to see to believe- sea eagles, wild goats, deer, cuckoos, seals, otters (and unfortunately, lots of ticks!)
Walks that scrambled from beach, shore caves and natural arches up to lofty vantage points where the views took in the whole world.
Good company, good conversation and camp fires to share.
Jura Whisky (Thanks Terry and Bonny!)
Times to pray, reflect, discuss- to recalibrate and allow something of God to seep into the soul.
If it is like this in heaven I’ll not be disapointed (perhaps minus the Ticks.)
So- some photos. Click to enlarge- it is worth it.
this fragile tent 