Despite

Despite Jonathan's idyllic little portrayal of Shetland on the CD we sent, there are days when it is just not possible to lie on the beach and get a suntan. If one was desperate for a brown skin it would be quicker to lie in the peat and get pickled. So I thought, to quell the overpowering desire to jump on an aeroplane (and become a Viking, Sage) I would send this little Jonathan antidote. But the picture here is not at all as barren as it looks. Since Victorians came out people have been asking me what I am going to do next and I have been saying ... 'oh, nothing at the moment I think'. Then out of the blue I was invited to meet the HEAD OF BUSINESS DEVELOPMENT in the Council and subsequently asked to submit a proposal for a book on Shetland Emigrants for the 2010 hamefarin. Well, I have just signed the contract with the Islands Council. They agreed to everything I asked ... why didn't I ask for more ... ever had that feeling? Shortly ... I will let you know ... there will be a piece on the Shetland Hamefarin website about it with an email address for people to contact me. By the way, sons and daughters, you all have bit parts in this, after all you are all Shetland emigrants, I might get my dad in too. So now I just have to get my head around spreadsheets and get on with it.

Word of the Day

In the Scottish psyche there is ' ... oh dear, we're going to pay for this' as in Scotland 1 France 0. The antithesis is very English, 'hubris', as in England 1 Croatia 3.

Unfortunately I fell into the English trap today ... hence hubris is the word of the day!

Having seen Mum off on the bus at 9.30 am I returned to the numerous planned 'chores of the day'. First, hang up the washing, feed the birds, empty the ash, fill the peat basket and empty the compost bucket into the bin. Everything going well, continued and, after vacuuming, washed the kitchen, bathroom, porch, passageway, stairs and landing floors. Feeling very pleased with my achievements, checked the email and made some smug remark to the downunders about spring (probably that was my mistake), then I confounded my error by making a clever remark about Mum and widgets. Having finished the email I went for broke and prepared to fix said widget to underside of toilet seat.

You see the result! From small beginnings ....

I successfully removed old broken widget, drilled holes for new and glued it in place, after checking the seat was sitting securely once more. Put seat down then realised what I really needed (when gluing) was some downward pressure ... heavy weight on seat. Ah, I remembered that when preparing the ratatouille yesterday I had pressed the extra moisture out of the aubergine and courgette in the collander by use of a fine rounded boulder of serpentine (kept by the back door for such occasions). Fetched said boulder and placed on toilet seat above widget ... disaster ... hubris ... it fell into the pan and smashed it!!

A line of poetry from Milton's Ozymandos comes to mind (probably misquoted) 'Look on his works oh ye mighty and despair'!

Archie (bless his cheerful and helpful heart) has been and is away to get another pan, meanwhile I have demolished the rest of the pan in preparation for replacement. Archie has promised he will be back and have it in place before Mum comes home and only smiled when I told him shamefacedly how I had done it.

Now I desperately need a ... well, look on the bright side, at least I'm a man, but then a woman probably wouldn't have got into this situation.

'Hubris: arrogance, such as invites disaster'. Chambers Dictionary.

Moonshine

The full moon at Xmas time set me to thinking about it and realising that I did not know what the 'thirteenth' moon was. How ignorant after all those years! Of course the moon cycle is just over 29 days (as you all knew) so that every so often there are 2 full moons in one month and a 13th in the year (not last year or this year I think). So the one above is only the 12th, how boring. I would like someone to work it out but I reckon one would have to be 80 years old or so to see 1000 full moons ... now that will be a celebration!





Jamie and Helen's pictures of their house prompted me to put up a curtain rail too ... for Mum. I found the brass rail and brackets, much discoloured, in the shed (where I store such objects waiting for a purpose) and spent an afternoon (thank you Sorley for letting me out) cleaning it and putting it up. The curtains came from the gudrunsjoden catalogue. Kids ... that's grandma's daemon sitting in the corner on the box waiting for a call from its cousins who are due back in about a month.

Now I am thinking of taking the books out of the bedroom (filling the wall behind me when I took this photo). There is room for some upstairs, but some will have to go. I'm still just thinking ...

Sorry, this next picture a bit out of focus ... we made a quick visit to Snarraness Here is Mum with Sorley ... not insouciant this time ... on the road down. It is a tarmacked road now and the house has been totally rebuilt.
Another out of focus picture of Sorley standing in front of his house that will be!
Idly looking through the bookshelves and came across this wee booklet privately printed by May Stevenson ... she was Graeme (Mum's cousin) Hinton's mother's sister (I think) and she lived in a terrace opposite the Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh. I'm sure we visited her with Beth or Gudrun, or both? She has a great view of the old town skyline. This was rhyme I used to sing (first time I had seen it written down) and I remember my uncle singing it to me. May wrote out a number of these nonsense rhymes and illustrated them.

No picture of a nuclear power stations to hand, but I find myself in an anomalous position regarding them. The Labour government has just decided that the UK will build several of these to meet an energy gap (circa 2016-20) and, they say, help with reducing carbon release (actually very little). But in Scotland the SNP government opposes them, has powers of planning consent and will withold that ... so no nuclear power in Scotland. I have always supported Labour (hoped that Gordon Brown would prove to be an antidote to Blair, but no alas) but am anti nuclear power and not a fan of Alex Salmond (SNP Scottish First Minister) ... hhmmm. I am finding myself wanting to be shot of Westminster politics but where does that leave me? Maybe, if Mr Salmond keeps a steady head, I may find myself voting SNP at the next election ... for Independence!

Xmas 2007

Happy Xmas everyone! Mum is wearing a scarf from Gudrun which is hiding a brooch from Beth (sorry!) and I am wearing the Unst skull cap. But if you look closely at the books just to the right of the little painting on the top (rhs) shelf you may just make out Mr Pip (NZ author), The Night Gardener (a George Pelecanos thriller) and The Wild Places (Robert MacFarlane travel/places). You might also spot the yellow cover (on its side) of Tree of Smoke which I am really into. It took me half an hour to get this picture ... one of the sitters kept moving. Hope you have had/are having/will have a great day. Love Mum and Dad xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.

Now off to make fish cakes with anchovies, open a bottle of red wine and fire a party popper over Mum's head!

More pictures

This Yule's New Shetlander came out with both a poem of mine and a review of Victorians 60 Degrees North. I had planned to include these in the blog ... but ... when I scanned and uploaded the text it was unreadable. I also tried adding the poem directly from a file but it wouldn't do it either. So, the poem I will attach to an email (you've probably read it before anyway) and I quote the last paragraph of the (whole page) review below.

"Laughton Johnston has written a book which for me became a real 'page turner'. To tell the truth, I just hadn't expected to find the life stories of these 'Victorians 60 Degrees North' so engrossing. I've enjoyed my time inside their world. In other words, what I am saying is simply: 'Dis is a raelly interestin book, full o fascinatin stories and colourful characters - it's a bit o Shetland's history served up in style and I hoop you laek it too'."

If you would like a copy of the issue let me know and I will send you one.

My printer/copies/scanner is not scanning anymore. Luckily I bought a new scanner for my Xmas (okay, a month ago) so that I could easily copy family photographs onto a CD ... it's a slim line Canoscan LiDE 600F that can sit by the laptop on the desk and is powered through the latter too. So, of course I had to find some photos to scan. By coincidence, while looking for the Xmas decorations and/or wrapping paper (for Mum) in the cupboard at the top of the stairs I found a bag I had forgotten all about which was full of old goodies (photographs, papers, letters etc). So, here are two.

First, Mum at Real Foods! Actually there were quite a few of all the staff that Jill must have taken, but I didn't think you would want photos of Michael, Dave etc. Doesn't Mum look good! The next photo, for Jamie especially in case he thinks he is the only footballer in the family (!), is of the Benalder football team in 1958 in Singapore. The captain of the team (of course) was the 1st Mate (in the centre) and all the others, except for me, were the sailors. Our style was rather like Bolton's ... for those who do not know Bolton's style, it was pretty physical as we had no skill whatsoever but loved dressing up in our strip. To put it more bluntly, we didn't really mind just how we won the game(s). Don't ask me which position I played in. I know I tried to be wherever the ball was unless being threatened with a tackle from the opposition ... particularly after we had set the tone for tackling. You could say I was a pretty cosmopolitan player both on the pitch and on the globe!
Mum and I are now already for Xmas. We don't have a tree or crackers (nobody does a 'pensioner pac' ... 2) but we have mince pies and paper streamer bangers and frozen banoffees and fish for the fishcakes, some wine for me and cranberry juice for Mum ... she doesn't know what's coming!

December Pics

Okay, so trying to put these pictures into some kind of aesthetic order but failing miserably.
The weather has been very kind here recently, lots of quiet days, around 6-10 degrees (but warmer than London!) and some sunshine. This time of year it just creeps over the hill and tends to light the clouds from underneath (!).
Today, Mum at Wastview and I have been pottering slowly ... rescuing a geranium and bring it indoors, spotting one (maybe two) great northern divers (that would be my daemon I have decided) out in the bay from the cliff top, sawing up some old fence posts, checking the seals, looking (unsuccessfully) for otters, coppicing the old rowan tree by the door as it has been struggling of late, filling in rabbit holes in the garden with stones (which gives me a particular kind of pleasure), making coffee, and shortly, going to see if I can fix up the wireless connection to the laptop (to give me one less lead on the desk).


What happens here this time of year? Well, apart from the rather loutish ram (looks a bit like a Raging Bull who should have retired half a dozen fights ago) pursuing the sheep at a lesiurely pace, crocuses having a first nervous taste of the air, the Papa Stour ferry passing unhurriedly twice a day, rabbits digging holes in the garden, only the lobster boat seems to be purposefully busy (I feel I should wave to him like Linda to the Muckle Flugga supply boat in Jonathan's book, Linda to the Lighthouse).
Then there are our regular bird visitors ... the rock doves that come to feed on the bird seed we put out. These are the birds from which a lot of the fancy pigeons have been bred, Shetlanders call them blue doos. We also have an annual visit through the middle of the winter of 4 or 5 turnstones and a flock of curlews who come very close to my window. I tried to take a photo of them through the window and chicken netting fence (to keep rabbits at bay) but ended up with only sharply focused netting and blurry images beyond ... I'll master it yet.The other day (and yesterday evening ... when I say evening I mean about 3 o'clock) we had these wonderful shafts of sunlight piercing through the cloud (I expected a thunderous voice and Charlton Heston to appear with the tablet any moment).

As you can see, Ronas Hill (in close up) looked weird, kinda underlit. We had some northern lights too the other night, but not good enough to photograph (I will get one and post it!). And the new moon has the old moon in her arms. Actually the line from the ballad (Sir Patrick Spens) says ' I saw the new moon late yestreen / with the old moon in her arm'. I think it is better in the plural?

No, I am not going mad ... just pottering.

Daemons

Since rather quiet on the family blogs, apart that is from Maya - delightfully, I have decided to write about one of those strange coincidences that regularly occur. First though I will have another sip of this evening’s choice whisky … single Jura, not unpleasant.

I have been reading, as no doubt you all have, about the film version of His Dark Materials by Pullman ... a wee bit disappointed. The ‘daemon’ in the story fascinated me as I knew nothing about them. Simultaenously, I have been reading the much hyped The Gift by Lewis Hyde (presently Creative Writing professor in Ohio). It requires a lot of attention … not recommended reading in bed just before intended sleep! He looks at age-old myths surrounding ‘gifts’ and sees creativity as a ‘gift’ too. He is in to the idea that ‘gifts’ are for reciprocation and their value lies in their passage, back and forward between individuals and around groups. In today’s world these ‘gifts’ have been commercialised and we have capitalism; where the ‘gift’ has been given a monetary value and where it is kept it become capital. You’ll have to read the book to get nearer his truth!

However, last night, on page 54, I came on the section on the ‘gift’ of creativity … literary, artistic etc. First, it rang a few bells as it seemed to echo something I have always felt … that we must use (not a good word here in this context, sorry can’t think of a better at the moment) our own personal ‘gifts’ to the full … otherwise we are denying our intrinsic selves, never mind anyone else.

Now we come to daemons! Quote from book … ‘The task of setting free one’s gifts was a recognized labor [he’s American remember] in the ancient world. The Romans called a person’s tutelar [guardian if you have to look it up like me] spirit his genius. In Greece it was called a daemon. Ancient authors tell us that Socrates, for example, had a daemon who would speak up when he was about to do something that did not accord with his true nature. …. The daemon comes to us at birth. It carries with it the fullness of our undeveloped powers. These it offers to us as we grow and we choose whether or not to accept to labor in its service … the spirit [daemon] who brings us our gifts finds its eventual freedom only through our sacrifice [to realise the gift], and those who do not reciprocate the gifts of their daemon will leave it in bondage when they die."

It is no longer often, in fact it is pretty rare, that I come across something that makes me sit up (and fail to go to sleep later) and think ‘now there’s a view of life that I feel that’s familiar and friendly, and needs thinking about’.

Now I am wondering about the shape of my daemon. However, I do know who must have a cat as a daemon!

Need to go and fill up my glass …