Penny for Your Whistle

16 Apr

You may remember, if you cast your mind back several weeks, that this Lent I decided to take up the tin whistle. At the start of the period I could play a scale but not much more than that. I resolved to practise every day. Did I keep it up?

Yes, I did! And with the help of a nice online Jesuit priest I can now play three proper Irish tunes and even put in a couple of simple ornamentations, the cut and the hit. I got so into the whole business that I bought a second whistle to replace the one that I had let my baby niece play with (i.e. bash off things). I’m keeping both of them, though, because the original nickel one is much better for fast things, like jigs, while the new brass one is better for the slow tunes.

As proof of my efforts, I have attempted to upload a video of myself playing “The Star of the County Down”, but WordPress doesn’t seem to like videos. Nothing daunted, Ihave uploaded to YouTube and embedded a link below. It’s not terribly thrilling, but you are perfectly welcome to have a look.

Sightly Thoughts on Gruntlement

31 Mar

Many years ago, during English Language A-Level, a friend and I began thinking about words that have no positive equivalents. Unintentional, for instance, corresponds to intentional, but what does unsightly correspond to? I’ve never heard anyone describe anything as ‘sightly’.

The list is longer than you might think. It all started with disgruntled – a great word in itself, but wouldn’t gruntled be good, too? Ruthless and reckless attracted our attention as well. The Government should be running a campaign urging us all to drive reckfully.

A lot of these are what called fossil words – words that are preserved inside other words, in this case their negative versions. Reck, ruth and gorm used to actually be things, and people would use them in sentences, but they have died out, leaving only confusing traces in reckless, ruthless and gormless.

The issue sprang back to mind many years later because someone on the radio ticked Madonna off for singing “nothing’s indestructible”, criticising the phrase as a double negative. Leaving aside the fact that the criticism was based on a misunderstanding of the double negative rule (which is itself a silly rule), what was she supposed to have said? “Everything is destructable”? Is that a word?

Below is the list of these positive equivalents that are never used, as far as I know. It is nowhere near exhaustive and suggestions for additions will be considered ruthfully.

(The friend, by the way, was Kerry Smallman, who these days produces weird European house music,  and very good poetry, if you want to check it out.)http://www.myspace.com/kerryandcasio

AdvertantGormful
AimfullyGruntled
Card (as in discard)Gusting (As in disgusting, not as in wind.)
ChoateHapless
CombobulatedKempt
ConcertingMolish
CouthMoralised (as an adjective)
DefatigableNominious
DestructablePointful
DignationPudent
DisestablishmentarianismPunity
DolentReckful
DupitablyRuthful
EffableScathed (although we do have scathing)
EluctableSightly
ErtSolent
EvitableSouciance
FeckfulVincible
GainlyWieldy

Book Touring and Village Craving

23 Mar

I am back from my mini ‘book tour’, taking in three venues in Sheffield – CLC bookshop, All Saints C of E and Sheffield High School. All the events went well, for which I am grateful to God, and a little bit embarrassed about my preceeding lack of faith.

My trip was nearly derailed before it started, however, due to the route I took to get to Sheffield. I unwittingly got on the slow train from Manchester instead of the fast one. Time wasn’t the issue because I had plenty to spare, but the slow train goes through the Hope Valley, the location of some of the most beautiful scenery and most charming looking villages in Derbyshire.

One of them is Edale, a lovely place all nestled below impressive hills, just asking to he climbed, and with an inviting pub right next to the station. Half the train seemed to get off there, people with rucksacks, maps and smiles, and even though I was due in Sheffield, it was as much as I could do not to follow them off the train and into the pub.

Duty prevailed, of course, as it always does with me, but I’ll have to go back to Edale sometime. Maybe I could set a story there and then I’d have to visit for ‘research’. In the meantime I’ll just add it to my list of astonishingly achievable life’s ambitions.

 

Update: I haven’t set a story in Edale yet, but I have set one in the charming fictional village of Haddleford. It’s currently free at Smashwords.

Running for Cover by K C Murdarasi

The Hound of Heaven

17 Mar

By pure chance I have come across the most wonderful poem. I was invited to a concert by Matthew Todd, a talented tenor, and the main piece was a musical arrangement of Francis Thompson’s poem The Hound of Heaven. You can use the link to read the whole text of the poem and I would encourage you to because it’s astonishingly good.

The Hound of Heaven was written at the end of the nineteenth century, and it has the grandeur of Victorian art and poetry combined with the emotional immediacy and general weirdness of early twentieth century poetry. It is reminiscent of T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land at times, but also of Charles Kingsley and even of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (especially the bit where Thompson talks about his lost youth).

I would quote my favourite bits, but it was written in an era before soundbites, so they tend to have to be quoted with their surrounding lines, or even whole verse, in order to make sense. This is being written in the era of smartphones, and my thumbs would seize up. I will just quote a couple of wee bits though, albeit out of context:

“I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,”

and the opening line, which sends shivers down my spine:

“I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;”

Brilliant! And if that has tempted you, do yourself a favour by clicking the link above, and read the whole thing.

Leda Grows Legs

7 Mar

I’ve just been looking at all the places my novel, Leda, appears on the internet, and it’s quite surprised me. Not only is it available in Australia and New Zealand (with free shipping, apparently), it’s also in the e-catalogue of Jefferson County Public Library in (I presume) the USA.

It feels quite strange seeing my book fending for itself in the big, wide world. The first hundred copies or so were sold directly so I knew who bought them. Now I just see numbers on a screen and have no idea where they’ve gone. I haven’t seen it in physical bookshops yet (well to be honest, I haven’t looked yet) but I expect that will be quite a weird experience, too. It’s strange enough seeing books by Robert Low in Waterstones, and he’s only a friend’s husband. (He writes war sagas – vikings, Robert the Bruce and so on. Not for haemophobics, but a good read for those with strong stomachs.)

I know that eventually, for Leda to be a success, it has to be bought by lots of people who don’t know me. They may know a little about me (I’ve had articles in the Glaswegian, Yorkshire Post and Housing Scotland Today, so far) but I can’t turn on the emotional pressure with these people I’ll never meet, to persuade them to buy. Leda will have to stand on her own two feet – or fall. I’m pretty confident she’ll stand. She’s a tough wee girl.

Musical Lent

26 Feb

So, Lent has rolled around again. I was thinking about what to give up, but nothing made much sense so I’ve decided to do what I did last year and take up a committment instead. Last year it was reading John Stott’s The Cross of Christ. This year, I’m going to practice the tin whistle every day.

I bought one a few months ago because it was only a couple of quid and tin whistle music does sound great, but I’ve not done much with it. In fact it gets most use from my baby neice bashing it on the ground or chewing the wrong end. I intend to rectify that, for the next six weeks at least.

This one will be harder to keep up, since if I only remember at 11pm that I haven’t done it that day, it will probably annoy the neighbours more than reading a chapter of a book. Still, I’m managing so far even if it’s only a couple of scales, so we’ll see how it goes. Maybe I’ll be appearing at the next Celtic Connections…

EK OK

17 Feb

I’ve spent most of the last few days in East Kilbride, and it felt like a very long week. East Kilbride, or EK, is a town outside Glasgow. It has an older ‘village’ section (so I’m told) but most of it is post-war, with more than its fair share of block-like 60s monstrosities of architecture and civil engineering. The town centre is composed of a large shopping and some car parks.  EK is ugly, there’s no way around it.

On top of that it has its own micro-climate, which is awful. If it rains in Glasgow, it sleets in EK; if it snows in Glasgow, EK is snowed-in for months and has to survive on tinned sardines; and it is always blowing a gale. I exaggerate, of course, but honestly, the weather is terrible. And while you are fighting your way through the elements you always seem to be going uphill, because flat roads are as rare in EK as sunny days.

This is why my few days in EK were quite trying – this, and the fact that hills and weather seem worse when you’re pushing a pram at an hour when you would rather be on bed. But what this week has also shown me is why East Kilbride is such a popular place to live – and it is; the town is full of new housing estates because people are falling over themselves to move there.

Mainly its that housing is cheaper here than in Glasgow, but it’s easily commutable. It’s not just that, though. I have found people here to be friendly and helpful, perhaps even more than in Glasgow. The town is sympathetically laid out for pedestrians, as well as motorists: footpaths cut up, down and across every hill, making handy shortcuts and safer walking. Even the hideous (and imaginatively named) East Kilbride Shopping Centre is an asset when you consider the weather outside.

And in the station just now, as I was writing this, a woman exclaimed “Jesus Christ!”, a man remonstrated “Excuse me – that’s the name of the Lord”, and the woman, instead of giving him a filthy look or a mouthful of worse language, simply apologised. How many places would that happen? East Kilbride may be physically ugly, but in other ways it’s no eyesore.

The Selfish Giant’s Square

7 Feb



I have taken to avoiding Blythswood Square as I make my way around Glasgow. I used to deliberately travel through the Square if I was in that part of town, because I liked the walk through the tiny park / garden that lies in the middle of it. That was before they locked it up. Now it just depresses me to have to walk around it and see the padlocks and notices.

The official reason given by the notices is the Occupy protestors who set up a measly camp of three tents in one part of the park in November. It was a pretty uninspiring protest, and they must have been freezing. I thought in the end they’d been blown away by the storms (literally or metaphorically) but it turns out that they were actually blown away by a court injunction. To prevent anything like that happening again, the notice said, it has been necessary to close the park. Thus, the actions of a “selfish few” have spoiled it for everyone.

That doesn’t wash. Leaving aside the motives of the campers (a “selfish” anti-greed campaign? Hmm), the situation now is that there is a five foot (or so) fence on a small wall, finished with four padlocked gates. That would hardly keep out determined protestors for two minutes – I could scale it myself if I was so inclined – but it will keep out office workers and passers-by, who were the people who used the square.

The main reason I find their notice disingenuous, though, is that the fence started going up long before the protestors arrived. As soon as they rebuilt the fence it was obvious where things were headed, and the big gates confirmed it. When the protestors moved in it gave them an excuse, but it does appear that they were planning to close the park anyway.

I keep saying “they” and “them”. The park is owned by the surrounding businesses, as I understand it, so it is private property and the owners are within their legal rights to close it. However it is also the only patch of green in the surrounding area, and is enormously popular with office workers who walk through or around it in winter, and lie on it having picnic lunches in summer. (“Summer” here meaning the few sunny days that we get in Glasgow.) For years and years it has been a much-loved local amenity and has had its litter collected and flower beds planted by the council. Now, probably at the behest of the Bythswood Hotel (because that is the big new business in the Square), it’s just another small pleasure that’s being denied to ordinary people, possibly because we make it look messy.

I have fond memories of sunny times spent in the park Blythswood Square garden, eating ice cream, sunbathing and chatting. The notice on the locked gates says that the garden will still be opened on sunny days in summer. I hope that’s true, but it’s not much of a consolation. It’s not just me who liked the place, either; according to the survey of Living, Working and Spirituality in Glasgow, 24% of people gave an outdoor space as their favourite place in Glasgow City Centre, and many of them specifically mentioned Blythswood Square.

Blythswood Square park used to be a little bit of green pleasure in the middle of a working day. Now it’s just the Selfish Giant‘s garden.

The End of a Chapter

31 Jan

I have given up the day job; today is my last day at the office. Although I’ve spent as long there as I did at university, neither the job nor leaving it feels momentous in the way matriculating and graduating did. In my head it was always a temporary job, you see, despite evidence to the contrary.

In fact it’s not strictly true that I’ve given up the day job. Really I’ve just swapped it, since I will now be looking after my beautiful baby niece a few days a week. But not only is this part time, giving me more time to concentrate on writing, babysitting is also more conducive to writing than an office job – especially during her two hour nap. Even when she’s awake she’s wonderfully portable, and can come with me if I need to meet someone or even go to the library. I’ve found a baby opens doors, both in the literal sense (you’ve really got to watch her) but also with booksellers.

So now I really have to commit myself to my writing career, and the uplifting but also scary truth is that I can nevermore say I didn’t have a go. I’ve left safe predictability behind, and I may crash and burn, but you never know – I may discover I can fly.


Copies of Leda Available

25 Jan

At long last I have many paperback copies of my children’s novel Leda in my possession. Of course, I would like to have fewer copies, so please do buy it. Copies are available from me or direct from the publisher, Troubador.

It will soon be available in a number of bookshops in Glasgow, and I’ll let you know on Leda‘s page which are stocking it, once it’s confirmed. There will be book signings too – again, details will follow.

(It will be more generally available after May because that’s the official release date.)