Tag: Edinburgh

Bojo The Wildling

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It appears Bojo came north of the wall today. He mingled with those pesky wildlings he ordinarily has no time for. When I say north of the wall, I mean nearly as far north as possible. He went all the way to the Orkney Islands. One suspects this wasn’t because he loves Scotland so much he wants to see as much of it as possible of course, it’s a lot easier to avoid the baying crowds when they consist of Angus and his dog than what they would be were he to brave Edinburgh, Glasgow or just about any place with a population capable of creating an angry mob.

He finally visited Scotland on the one year anniversary of his still slightly inexplicable rise to power. If that was supposed to fill us with some sense of honour that he would bless us with his presence on such an important day, all it did was remind us it’s taken him so long to come north. It took him one whole year despite the fact there was an actual election midway through the year. Perhaps his no show in that time was down to his love of the Union and the damage his presence would do to it.

Undeniably there is truth in that. The latest polls, and there’s more than one of them, puts support for independence at 54%. Nicola Sturgeon may try and take credit for this but when a country votes in droves for anyone but the man elected as leader yet has this very man foisted upon them it’s quite easy to see why opinion polls are only moving in one direction. When you see a country being dragged out of the European Union despite voting to stay in it, then expecting to be forced to endure an inevitable ‘no deal’ Brexit as the zealots in government return us to Year Zero and the ashes they hope to grow a new and glorious society out of, it’s fair to say the Scottish people want nothing to do with it.

Even the coronavirus has played it’s part. Nicola Sturgeon herself is very divisive, usually down the Independence / Unionist line in all fairness, but compared to Boris’ fumbled mumbled approach in confusing an entire nation on what’s expected of them while not actually doing anything himself, she has looked decisive and strong. She didn’t even have to really do anything, just be clear about what she meant when she did make a statement. Clearly there is something dark going on in the corridors of Whitehall and Number Ten, it’s no surprise more and more Scots are wanting out.

As Sturgeon said;

“I welcome the PM to Scotland today. One of the key arguments for independence is the ability of Scotland to take our own decisions, rather than having our future decided by politicians we didn’t vote for, taking us down a path we haven’t chosen. His presence highlights that“

It says a lot for a man that the opposition openly admit he does them more good than they do themselves. There is no way for sure to say one way or another whether Scotland becoming a free state would work in the short, medium or long term, and while it’s dangerous to suggest or believe that happiness is just waiting around the corner, let’s be honest anything has got to be better than this lot right now.

I remember the day after the independence referendum in 2014, I was in France picking grapes and I barely said a word all morning. I was infinitely disappointed that a people had rejected not the opportunity of independence because what is that really, but that they had rejected the chance to even attempt improving their lot. A people chose fear over hope. But who knows, there may just be light at the end of this tunnel of a horror show after all.

Beef Strogayesplease

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I ate a whole beef stroganoff yesterday. I know that doesn’t mean anything. What is a whole version of something that could be any size. But I did. I made it myself too. I enjoy cooking so making that wasn’t an ordeal and although it was my first ever attempt, with a quick skim over a recipe I smashed it. Genuinely it was incredibly tasty. My friend had given me a huge chunk of unsliced sandwich meat a few months ago and I had stored it, along with a few other vital lifesaving things, at the back of my freezer in case of the coronapocalypse. Well that doesn’t look like it’s happening so in my belly it went. I used a whole tub of sour cream which I just checked contained sixty grams of fat and apparently my daily allowance is only seventy. Not that that would stop me repeating it all over again. I also added mushrooms because it wouldn’t be right without them and asparagus because I always like to fuck with recipes. I have a habit of cooking enough for two people every time and usually just eat it all myself. How I’m not a big fatty is beyond me. I wish now I had taken a photo of my delicious creation but I neither planned on writing about it nor am one for taking photos of my dinner. I’ll see what Google has to offer.

Beef stroganoff is something I rarely eat, it is surely some kind of 1970s throwback that has survived to modern times. It does though have an emotional connection in my mind, or heart, or even soul. When I was a young child I used to go with my Grandma to a department store in Edinburgh called Jenners. It is, or at least was to my young mind, quite a respectable and reasonably fancy place. It is massive and appealed, perhaps still does, to a slightly wealthier clientele, especially old women of that generation twenty-five years ago. I suddenly feel old. Where has my life gone. Twenty-five bloody years ago. Gasps for air. Anyway, one of my favourite parts of the day was lunch and it was in the upstairs restaurant that I discovered beef stroganoff for the first time. Red meat, mushrooms and cream. What wasn’t to like. There has forever been a connection and while I have probably had the dish ten times in my life at most, last night was my first attempt at making it myself. I have no idea what my grandma ate all those years ago, but had it been the stroganoff, I’m sure she would have approved of mine.

Life’s Twists & Turns

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I was going to talk about something important, as always, but I’m currently wallowing in the post breakfast euphoria of this…

Focaccia eggy bread, with blue cheese, wild smoked salmon and a ‘garnish’ of rocket

I’m so painfully middle class I’m not even fighting it anymore. I also managed to remember that I was going to talk about different and uncontrollable paths in life. I realised last night that had this virus not become a thing I would have just been departing an Easyjet flight from Edinburgh to Athens, ready to say hello to some old faces and getting excited about a summer sailing around Greek islands drinking beer and wine, and eating too much of the world’s best cuisine. Yes I just made that statement. But that was what could have been.

I’m currently making pizzas as previously mentioned. This won’t go on forever and the lifting of lockdown will have an affect upon it but at most it’ll be a summer gig until the schools go back and the tourists disappear. This was never meant to be the plan as I said but it’s just what I’m doing now. Maybe in July I’ll have had enough of it and realise I’m wasting my time but that is something for future me to deal with. The point is that we clearly can’t control life’s ever evolving patterns. We can influence certain elements of it but let’s be honest in most things we’re pretty powerless. If you can’t sail, you just do something else. You meet other people, make other bonds. And you go with that and see what happens.

The truth is that while undeniably I’m longing for a holiday sitting on a beach somewhere in the sun and waking up whenever it pleases me, I’m perfectly content with this version of existence and how it’s unfolding. Maybe something will ruin that contentment, maybe something won’t. The point is not to tell you I’m living some kind of perfect life because I’m not, there’s no such thing, but there’s a good chance the whole world is doing something completely different in this Covid-19 version of existence and I just enjoyed the fact that last night I was sitting there and had a fairly good idea of exactly what I would have been doing. That I think is a rare pleasure, and a pleasure because I’m not longing for either. If we make the most of whatever we do end up doing we’re less likely to long for anything else.

And that goes for my breakfast too. It is Sunday today and while I love to think I would be in the Koukaki district of Athens looking for some little hipster brunch place, most likely I would be grabbing a spanakopita from the first bakery I could find from the few that open on a Sunday in Greece before driving to Preveza and fixing up a boat. Yes I desire that, but I’m pretty happy with whats sitting in my belly currently too.

As I read over that I felt at one point I wanted to vomit on myself. Don’t get me wrong the sentiment about uncontrollable existence and riding it’s wave still stands. It’s just I’m painfully aware that the two possible versions of existence I know of are pretty decent and there are plenty out there who don’t even have one decent version. “If you can’t sail, you just do something else“, I mean come on, what a wanker. But I don’t feel guilty, I don’t feel bad and I don’t feel I want to give up my blue cheese, what would that achieve. I’m just aware I’m incredibly lucky. Maybe I should find a way to share my blue cheese instead.

The Ballad Of Johnny Longstaff

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There was a time when men were men said the romantics ignoring the fact that these were tough men through circumstance and necessity. The period of time that stretches from the beginning of the First World War to the end of the Second is one that has filled the imaginations of even the most derelict of minds. For my generation and those slightly older this is a period that we can look on and imagine our grandparents struggling to survive in. It is this connection that allows for an appreciation that others in later years will perhaps not have and it was with these thoughts that I pictured my own grandfather when watching and listening to the story of Johnny Longstaff by Teeside folk band The Young’uns at the Traverse Theatre in Edinburgh. 

Johnny Longstaff was born in Stockton-On-Tees. He lived in a time when work really was scarce and a day without food common enough to be normal. He joined the marches to London 1934 as a fifteen year old demanding the opportunity to work and decided to stay. 

While in London he found himself joining various union movements and was present at the infamous Battle of Cable Street in which the original anti-fascist movement stood up against and beat Oswald Moseley’s fascist Black Shirts.

With this he heard of and met others heading out to Spain to fight Franco and his fascists. He was only seventeen and risked arrest because of the governments non-interventionist policy but signed up and headed out to Spain regardless.  

While out there he fought for the International Brigade. Civil Wars are by their nature brutal conflicts and the Spanish Civil War was certainly this. He buried friends who were killed next to him, spent days without food or water, endured the hottest and coldest of conditions and generally struggled through the horrors of war culminating in his presence at the infamous and horrific battle for Hill 481. 

He survived the war and was sent back with the rest of the International Brigade at the end of 1938. He signed up to fight Hitler in 1939 but this was denied on the grounds that he had broken the law by fighting in the Spanish War. In 1940 though he tried again and this time was allowed in. He survived the war and went on to live a rather normal life in the civil service before dying in 2000 at the age of eighty-one. 

The performance was incredibly inspiring and I left with an intense fire burning inside. I have attempted in this blog and recently in general, to try understanding the other side of the argument. It can help us understand our own position on issues as well as equip us with the tools to fight. The same must go to fascists and racists but it’s hard to understand their opinion when so deplorable. This show certain left me with the feeling that I don’t need to understand their perspective, their hate just needs destroyed. We live in a time that has seemingly forgotten the horrors of that time, of the rise of fascism and the very real threat it posed to the world. The Spanish Civil War was a fascinating fight between the fascist right and the socialist, anarchist and communist left that the Second World War could never be. While the Second war may have been one of ideologies, it was still one of Empires unlike Spain which really was a battle of ideas. These were men of a different time. It was hard and it was that that toughened them up. It is easy to romanticise the period but it does make you realise how soft we are in modern times. We mustn’t forget the past. We mustn’t forget those who fought the hatred of an ideology because while times may have changed, the more we forget the more likely we are to have to fight that ideology all over again.

Tourist

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Has anyone ever been a tourist in their own city? While I have never necessarily lived in Edinburgh I was born here and grew up less than an hour away. It is my nearest city and therefore I class it as my city. Over the years friends I have met while traveling have either visited Edinburgh or have visited me but regardless the result has been me visiting certain tourist sites. Edinburgh castle is nicer from the outside, some interesting museums but nothing to get excited about. Arthurs Seat is worth walking up for an idea of the the landscape and terrain of the rest of Scotland as well as a pretty spectacular view of the city. The Royal Mile is worth walking up if you want to browse through tacky tourist shops and dodge throngs of foreigners. Edinburgh is largely foreigners these days, most actual Scots having moved to Glasgow long ago. The National Museum of Scotland, I think thats it’s name, is free and has some pretty cool things worth seeing, as is and has the National Portrait Galley. Ultimately what I am saying is that these are a few things you can do which I have done already, but my point is this weekend will be different to all previous times. For this weekend I will be actually staying in an airbnb in Edinburgh, going all out tourist.

My Mum is turning seventy on Monday which is nice, a decent wee achievement so good on her. We have some cousins, aunties and uncles or nieces, sister-in-law and brother from my mothers perspective, visiting and so we’re staying up here too. The point of all this is that while people may do tourist things where they’re from, and yes of course quite often people never explore their locale at all, very rarely do they stay in an actual hotel in their own city and go full on tourist. I’m quite looking forward to it, it will most likely be a lovely treat. Let’s see how many locals I can piss off by being an awful tourist, thats alway fun.

This is probably one of the more boring pieces I have written but I’m tired, its been a crazy couple of days and it will soon be the end of the day and I want to maintain my streak. Does that make this piece a fail. I’m unsure. At some point I may have discipline in action but not discipline in mind if all I am doing is writing a daily piece that is me simply filling space. Do you really care about me spending a weekend in Edinburgh? There are different types of discipline. To be positive though, it is all part of the learning curve because until now I had never thought about the fact there are different types of discipline, different values to what I thought was one thing. Another day, another lesson. Aren’t you just lucky to be going through this with me.