The Price of Everything

1 Aug

Last week I visited Chatsworth, a well-known stately home in Derbyshire. Unfortunately I wasn’t an invited guest (despite having once been present at the Duke of Devonshire’s birthday party, but that’s another story) so I had to pay to get in. There was no indication of the price on the information leaflets, nor on the various notices we passed as we queued. That should have been a clue. Once you were at the entrance and it would be embarrassing to turn back, it was revealed that the price was £15, or £16.50 if you wanted to Gift Aid it. (I’ve never heard of Gift Aid making anything more expensive before.) That made £30 for Burri and me.

Bear in mind, this was not London, this was the north of England. The entry price also didn’t include anything like a guide book. No, that was £5 extra. You could save money by viewing just the gardens, not the house. That would be £11, please. There were wee buggies to help the elderly and disabled around the gardens. They were extra, too. A stately house would be wasted on children, so they could go to the farmyard and adventure playground – £5. Of course, you can’t leave small children unsupervised so a responsible adult could enter to watch – another £5.

It’s not that Chatsworth isn’t worth seeing. The paintings, statues and other works of art are stunning, especially the painted ceilings. The gardens are magnificent, especially the staircase fountain that stretches the whole length of a hill and which you can walk up and down in your bare feet on a hot day – and this was a scorcher. My problem was with the way the air of money-grabbing seemed to permeate your whole visit, leaving a bad taste in your mouth and to some extent spoiling your pleasure.

By contrast, when I left the north of England to return to my well-watered homeland, I was able to spend a pleasant fifteen minutes, not waiting on a dingy platform or drinking an overpriced coffee (not that I’m knocking all overpriced coffee – I do love my Costa), but playing a bit of table tennis. Sturdy, weatherproof tables had been set up outside Sheffield station. The bats were scruffy, some of the balls were dented and the tables may well disappear after the Olympics, but it was an unexpected treat. And it was free. We were perfectly prepared to pay for the table, indeed we expected to, but there was no need.

The effect on people was noticable. Strangers smiled at each other, and tossed back stray balls. British people laughed and even exerted themselves in public. It was an uplifting episode. Chatsworth no doubt could not afford to support itself if visits were free, but if they care at all about leaving visitors with a positive impression of the place, they should probably try being a little less mercenary. And maybe introduce free ping pong tables.

Something else free: Running for Cover by K C Murdarasi

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‘Running for Cover’ Published

24 Jul

Running for Cover by K C MurdarasiJust a quickie, to say that I have uploaded a free short story to Smashwords. It’s called Running for Cover, and concerns an injured athlete trying to escape the Olympics by retreating to an isolated Derbyshire village. Topical and free – what more could you ask for?

It should be available in Amazon soon, and other ebookshops later, but you can get it in a wide variety of formats at Smashwords, including Kindle, and PDF (good for reading on computers).

Any comments or questions about this story? Please feel free to contact me using the message form to the right.

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Look Up

19 Jul

In Glasgow we are blessed with some amazing architecture – so much of it, in fact, that after a while you hardly notice it. You hurry past Regency era terraces and shelter from the rain under ornate Victorian overhangs, and keep your eyes on the pavement. If you lo0k up, though, and actually see the buildings, the view is inspiring.

Yates Wine Lodge, West George St, Glasgow

Yates Wine Lodge, Glasgow

I was reminded of this fact the other day when I was out for “food and a flick”, a semi-regular social event organised by a lovely couple of friends. The food was at Yates Wine Lodge on West George Street, one a chain of cheap eateries. While it’s a bit loud and rough in the evening, it is a great place for cheap, plentiful, tasty, quick food until about eight o’ clock. I mentioned to the “food and flick” group that I had once taken a South American friend out for lunch to Yates and apologised that it was “nothing special”. He was taken aback and gazed around him. “Nothing special?!” he said.

Looking around, I had to take his point. While Yates is,  indeed a cheap eatery, that branch is also a beautiful Georgian building with polished sandstone pillars and gorgeous proportions outside, while inside it has a spiral staircase, dark wood appointments and lovely plaster mouldings. Visually, at least, it is something special, but I had totally overlooked the fact.

The Counting House, George Square, Glasgow

Counting House, Glasgow

Later in the evening, after the flick (Ice Age 4 – not great, not bad, pretty funny) we repaired to The Counting House on George Square for a beverage. We left without having one because it was so crowded, but I was struck by the beauty of the place. Look around and you see crowds of people between you and the bar. Look up, and you see prints and paintings, Georgian plaster panels, and an impressive dome. I don’t go to The Counting House much, so I wasn’t so blind to it, but most people there weren’t giving the surroundings any thought at all.

I first noticed how stunning Glasgow is – really noticed it – when I took a bus tour with a Greek friend, for his benefit (so I thought), and saw not shop fronts, but the rest of the buildings above them. It was a revelation.

So, if you are ever in Glasgow city centre, or any other old city – look up!

 

 

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Nefarious: Merchant of Souls

7 Jul

Last night I saw the multi-award winning documentary Nefarious: Merchant of Souls. Hard-hitting doesn’t cover it. I thought I knew quite a lot about prostitution and people trafficking (I even touch on it in my novel Leda), but this was an eye-opener. The statistics were truly horrifying, although of course statistics can be endlessly debated. What really got to me, though, and to the rest of the audience, was the stories of real life victims of the sex trade, in their own words. That, and the footage of happy, smiling children in South East Asia at a rescue centre – this was them leaving the sex industry at the age of ten or twelve. It’s the kind of thing that makes you shake with rage.

At times during the film I felt really hopeless, the problem seems so huge. Fortunately, as the film makes clear, there is hope. People do escape. It is even possible to combat sex trafficking as a nation. If Sweden can do it, so can we – and in fact MSP Rhoda Grant is trying to. (This fact is not in the documentary, but was mentioned afterwards by representatives of Exodus Cry.)

Exodus Cry is the organisation behind Nefarious, and they are unashamedly a Christian organisation who are doing what they do (combatting slavery) because of their Christian beliefs. They get some stick for that from people who think that if you’re doing anything because you’re a Christian then you’re insincere or have an ulterior motive. I would say, instead, that if your Christian faith doesn’t move you to help others (to “love your neighbour”, as Jesus put it) then there’s something deeply wrong.

So if you do care about sex slavery, what can you do?

1) Try and see the film Nefarious, if you can. You can buy the DVD from their website or even arrange a showing near you.

2) Write to your MSP (if in Scotland) to support Rhoda Grant’s campaign, or to your MP/ local politician to ask them to support something similar in your country.

3) Pray. I know, lots of people reading this will not be Christians and will think that praying is about as much use as thinking happy thoughts about fairies and unicorns. However, I am still going to recommend it as a course of action because in my experience, and the experience of many people I know, it’s the most useful thing you can do, especially when faced with such an overwhelming problem.

St Andrews Quotes

1 Jul

When I was a student at St Andrews I heard some very funny and bizarre things said, and indeed said some of them myself. In my last couple of years there I started taking a note of the best ones, despite mild ridicule from one of my friends. Someone has just published a book of things overheard in St Andrews, which prompted me to look again at my list – and they’re still brilliant. So here they are, for everyone to enjoy. I swear they are all genuine.

– It’s amazing how many wrong ends a stick has.

– It’s called being dead. Live with it.

– I wish you were a boy, sometimes.

[doesn’t this sound like the opening to a novel?]
– At New Year I got drunk on champagne and told my father I was gay.
There were repercussions.

– Yes! No! What was the question?

– Always look on the bright side.
– That’s the dark side.
– I always get them mixed up – HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

– So – whose angels are you?

– No, I think that’s unjust; he would never stone anyone.

– You have a lovely house. It’s much nicer than either of mine.

– Three wrongs make – a mess.

– Well since the world is ruled by evil computers…

– Sheep still excite me.

– Oh, it’s so depressing!
– Hey! You wanna sing a song?

– Good grammar is for insecure people.

– I always wanted to be a muppet instead.

– Smile, nod, back away slowly.

– In the end I had to eat my head because nobody else would.

– They’re amazingly united. With all their divisions.

– He’s a sweet boy.
– Especially when he has half a tomato in his tea.

– You can’t insult astrophysics!
– We can, but we choose not to; we prefer a challenge.

– How romantic is it, anyway? Is is something you would do to your rabbit?

– So the moral of the story is, if you find a dead pig in a field, don’t microwave it.

– Speaking of incest, where’s Ben? [by his academic sister]

– I Can’t Believe It’s Not Offal.

– You have a mean streak.
– No, she has a nice streak.

– I had dual residence last year. I lived half in Gannochy and half in denial.
[Gannochy is a very ugly residence that was used as an overflow for the very beautiful St Salvators Hall.]

– I am married, all but legally.

– Is he smoking a Mars Bar?

– You should join SupNet [Support Network]. We want people who aren’t nice.

– I think death is the only way to approach this situation in a rational and logical manner. Whose has yet to be decided.

– So he never lost a battle. And that’s supposed to be some sort of achievement, is it? [This was a comment on Alexander the Great]

– I could die a happy man. Especially if you stabbed me.

– I need sleep. No, I mean caffeine. Sorry, I get the two mixed up.

– Darling, here’s a ring. Let’s exorcise the gift of lust.

Liked this? Try Office Life (and Death).

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Too Great?

29 Jun

Some time ago I promised that I would write a post in my series “Ancient History – Just the Best Bits” on Alexander the Great. This is not it.

I actually started writing the piece on my nice wee smartphone. I wasn’t really happy with it. It’s near impossible to do Alexander justice in a short piece. Without me actually standing there, all flashing eyes, breathiness and enthusiastic hand gestures, it comes across as an over-abridged history lesson. Perhaps I was being too harsh or perhaps I could have improved it. It’s all moot now; my smartphone has come to a watery end, and the post with it.

It’s probably for the best. You can’t (or at least, I can’t) sum up such an amazing man in a couple of pages, or even a couple of books. I’m reminded of the verse at the end of John’s Gospel about Jesus: “[He] did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.”

So perhaps I will never write that post, or perhaps one day I’ll add to the ridiculously large number of books that have been written about Alexander. Either way, I’m going to take the smartphone incident as a sign and abandon the topic for now. If you do want to find out more about Alexander, you could do worse than read The Alexander Trilogy by Mary Renault. Those were the books that made me fall in love with Alexander originally, over the summer holidays before studying him in A-Level Classical Civilisation. They’re fiction, but the kind of really good historical fiction that tells you more about the subject, in some ways, than a pure history book would.

Anyway, in lieu of a proper post about Alexander the Great, I’ll leave you with the verdict of Arrian, my favourite of the four major historians of Alexander:

Anyone who belittles Alexander has no right to do so on the evidence only of what merits censure in him; he must base his criticism on a comprehensive view of his whole life and career. But let such a person, if blackguard Alexander he must, first compare himself with the object of his abuse: himself, so mean and obscure, and, confronting him, the great King with his unparalleled wordly success, the undisputed monarch of two continents, who spread the power of his name over all the earth. Will he dare to abuse him then, when he knows his own littleness and the triviality of his pursuits, which, even so, prove too much for his ability?

It is my belief that there was in those days no nation, no city, no single individual beyond the reach of Alexander’s name; never in all the world was there another like him.

(Quotation from the Penguin edition, 1971, translated by Aubrey de Selincourt, pp397-8)
Alexander the Great

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Office Life (and Death)

18 Jun

This is a semi-exclusive for readers of my blog. My new ebook of short stories, Office Life (and Death) is available now from Smashwords and Amazon. In due course it will be available in all ebook stores, and at that point I’ll announce it to all and sundry. For the time being, though, I’m just announcing it to some and sundry – including people who are reading this.

There are five stories plus two pieces of flash fiction, and they concern the nine-to-five grind, although taken from a bit of a strange angle. There are fatally efficient PAs and mysteriously ambiguous companies, as well as an inquiry into the Company Policy on Screaming.

It costs about £2 to download, and you can get 50% off at Smashwords until the end of July with this code: TZ56S. You can also enter a competition to win £50 (ooh!) by forwarding me your receipt. See the Office Life (and Death) page for details.

If you enjoy it (which, of course, you will), do consider writing a nice review on the site you bought it from. But more important than that, do just go and buy it. If you’ve ever worked in an office, and have a sense of humour, you’ll find it decent value for a quid or two.

“We don’t do half sizes”

9 Jun

Two pairs of shoes recently died, in that irritating way they do, so I had the chance to experience the joy that is British shoe sizing not once, but twice. I had been looking about vaguely for replacements, as I knew they were on their way out, but it wasn’t until things reached a drastic stage that I actually had to march myself into a shoe shop with instructions not to come out until I had some new footwear. (The problem, you see, was that both dead pairs were staples of my shoe wardrobe – my only pair of trainers / plimsoles, and black flats.)

The shop I went to was Deichmans, but the problem I experienced there was not confined to them. My grave crime, you see, is that my feet are size six and a half. Ah, the half! I didn’t choose my shoe size, nor did I ask Britain to size shoes in such a way that fractions are necessary, but still when I ask for a pair of shoes in my size I get that look, as if I’m a kid who thinks ‘seven and three quarters’ is a legitimate age, and the words “we don’t do half sizes”.

This used to annoy me even before I lived on the Continent. If there’s enough of a difference in size for some shops to do half sizes, why can’t I ask for my size without scorn? It’s not as if everything that’s half is a failure to reach a whole; ask a musician what would happen if we abolished semitones.

Since living in Europe, though, and encountering European sizes, I get even more annoyed by half-sizedness prejudice. I take a size 40, for goodness sake – isn’t that a round enough number for you?

Even that comforting knowledge didn’t help me in Deichmans, though. Admittedly, I sometimes take a 39, and I’ve seen both 39 and 40 marked as the equivalent of 6.5. However, in Deichmans British sizes seemed to bear no relation to European ones, and in fact British sizes didn’t seem to bear much relation to British sizes, leaving me trying on sizes more or less as random – which, coincidentally, is what I had to do in Albania at first.

The end result is that I’ve got one pair in a 37 and the other in a 35 (!) – but not a 35 and a half, of course. That would just be silly.

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Balkansickness

28 May

The combination of the unusually hot weather and the Eurovision Song Contest are having an unlooked-for effect on me. I had hoped that the sun would cure me of my longing to go somewhere hot this year, but in fact I’m having the opposite reaction. All these experiences and sensations that I associate with Albania and Greece, rather than rainy Britain, are giving me a gut-deep yearning to be in the Balkans.

Walking down a street with the sun scorching my bare shoulders and the hot pavement cooking my feet takes me back to Lushnje. Iced coffee will always mean Greece to me. I can even order it in Greek, just the way I like it. The opening strains of the Greek Eurovision entry made me long for outdoor cafes with jangly music playing in the background. It wasn’t even a good song! Today I’m going to the beach (wearing shorts!), something I usually only do in Albania or Greece, either romantically with my husband, or chaotically with some of his millions of nieces and nephews.

It doesn’t help that hubbie is currently abroad due to a death in the family. This means a) that we won’t be able to go on holiday to Albania this year and b) that part of this yen for the Balkans is really a longing for him.

The Balkans aren’t heaven on earth, and there’s plenty I don’t like about Albania, Greece, Macedonia etc. When we move back there (as I hope we will) there will be plenty I’ll miss about the UK, too. So what I ought to do is appreciate Britain while I’ve got it – beach, shorts and all. Albania will still be there, and still be hot, next year.

Fancy a virtual trip to Albania? Try Leda, my novel set there.

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Happy 600th Birthday

19 May

Next month I will be going to a university reunion in St Andrews, so I’m in a bit of a state of nervous anticipation. It will probably be great fun but will certainly be a bit strange. I’m hoping that there are plenty of people I know, and worried that there won’t be, but the likelihood is that there will since you have literally scores of friends when you’re at uni.

I won’t tell you how many years it is since I graduated because it makes me feel old (I can still pass for 25 if you squint), but the University of St Andrews itself is 600 years old! Or 601, 0r 602, or 603, depending on how you count it. Things were a bit complicated at that point in the middle ages. Anyway, it’s been celebrating its 600th birthday over the last couple of years, and the culmination is this year, coinciding with my reunion and making me feel comparatively young.

One of the wonderful things about St Andrews, though (and I could write you a very long list) is that nothing really seems to change. A few months ago I saw a video by the St Andrews Christian Union and it looked so like the time that I was there, and all the people looked so similar, that I found myself expecting someone I knew to wander into shot. Then this week I discovered The Other Guys, a male voice choir, and their mash-up St Andrews Girls (based largely on California Girls by Katy Perry). There was one piece of slang that wasn’t around when I was there (“schweffing”), they seem to drink gin and juice rather than G&T (unless gin and juice just scanned better) and obviously the names of the bars have changed, but otherwise everything was exactly the same. Of course, the normal laws of physics don’t apply in the Bubble, so I shouldn’t really be surprised.

Anyway, I would invite you to have a look at St Andrews Girls by the Other Guys because

1) you can download it to support breast cancer charities

2) it’s hilarious if you know anything about St A’s – and pretty funny even if you don’t

3) these boys can really sing. Really. Some of them could, and should, go professional. You saw them here (or rather, on YouTube) first.

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