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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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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.

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.

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Norn Arn

6 Jan

Nuala with the Hula, Belfast (Ardfern)

I spent New Year in Norn Arn. For anyone who doesn’t know, that’s Northern Ireland in a Northern Irish accent. Alternative spellings are Norn Urn and Norn Iron. It was my first time in that part of Britain, so I thought I’d record my impressions, for what they’re worth.

The thing that struck me most was the different attitude to personal space. It’s not that people crowd you, it’s just that don’t have that automatic impulse to move aside when someone else comes too close or tries to get past. Weaving my way to the toilet after church I had to push through knots of people who didn’t seem the least bit awkward about it. When I got to the other side I realised that part of the reason it was so crowded was that a third of the room was empty; people were huddled like emperor penguins.

In some ways Norn Arn is a lot like Scotland, but a notch or two up: the weather is terrible, worse than Glasgow; the people are very hospitable and keep plying you with food; and they seem to have the same sort of humour when it comes to giving nicknames to landmarks – the Balls at the Falls and Nuala with the Hula, for instance.

In other ways it’s nothing like Scotland, or like my part of it anyway – hence the fact that we were at church bright and early on New Year’s Day when all sensible people are in bed. The church was lovely and the sermon was inspiring, but I couldn’t get over the fact that every pew was full at 10.30 on New Year’s Day.

The day I returned (the day before the big storm, fortunately, or I wouldn’t have been going anywhere), we went to Belfast, the capital. Belfast seems like an odd mixture of Dundee and Prishtina (which is not meant as an insult – there’s nothing wrong with Prishtina). Up close it’s much like every other major city, apart from the amazing profusion of craft shops. You will usually find one or two in a city, though you’ll have to search for them, but in Belfast they’re dotted all over the city centre. There’s even a shop dedicated to beads.  So I suppose if I ever do get stuck in Belfast because of the weather, there will at least be plenty to keep me occupied.

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Advent Ambition Achieved

19 Dec

I have finally finished John Stott’s magnum opus, The Cross of Christ, and very good it was too. The final chapter was rather surprising, too. Meanwhile, I managed to wolf down two books by Jeff Lucas, because his stuff is considerably lighter than Stott’s (and I don’t think he would be offended by my saying so).

They were called Helen Sloane’s Diary and Up Close and Personal: What Helen Did Next. They deal with the everyday tribulations and frustrations of a twenty-something Christian singleton. Any resemblence to Bridget Jones is entirely deliberate. The first book was absolutely amazing. The second wasn’t as good, and at first I thought it was going to be a real let-down, but it got going after a shaky start. The first one was still much more fun and, importantly, more believable as well. I would thoroughly recommend it – not just for Christians, but also for anyone who wants to know what the day-to-day business of being a Christian and a real person is like.

My favourite quotes from Helen Sloane’s Diary:
“I can’t pull off skinny jeans. Well, more accurately, I can’t pull on skinny jeans – not past my knees, anyway.”
(about a flag-waver in church) “I’ve read that the army of God is terrible with banners. She’s terrible with a banner.”

I saw at the end of the book that Jeff Lucas has a blog. “Great,” I thought, “more of his ascerbic yet helpful wit!” No, just a list of when he’s appearing and where he has appeared on his book tour. He might be surprisingly good at writing the inner life of a 27 year old woman, but he’s not quite caught up with the modern world when it comes to the definition of a blog.

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Free Films = Good

21 Sep

This week I’ve been to see another free film with www.showfilmfirst.com – must be at least the fourth this year. This time it was Drive, which was not bad, although hardly the pumping action film it appeared to be. Some films I’ve had were good (Troll Hunter), some were a bit pants (Columbiana), but you don’t mind so much when they’re free. Besides, you never know when the offer is going to come into your inbox or what film it will be, which adds a nice surprise to your day.

The reason I get all these free tickets is that I took up the offer to join the VIP club – which costs money, so kind of undermines the “free films” idea, but they guaranteed your money back if you didn’t get at least one pair of tickets. I have had so much more than my money’s worth; sometimes impulse buys are a very good thing.

The VIP club seems to be full at the moment, but should it open up again, I would definitely recommend it, based on my experience.

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Frightfully Good

3 Sep

Well I did go and see the first showing on the Friday that Fright Night (2011) came out, and it was great!  I was grinning widely from the opening credits (good choice of music, nice reference to another good vampire film), and enjoyed pretty much all of the film.

Colin Farrell is excellent as Jerry, the worst-named vampire in history.  He brings to the role that effortless menace that you can find in his gangster-type roles, along with lots of manly confidence and wry amusement.

David Tennant is a legend, as ever.  It looked like he was going to be a bit of an OTT psycho until he started slurping the absynthe and pulling off his silly costume, dropping used sideburns casually over the side of his chair.

The teenagers in it were good, too.  Imogen Poots was fine.  Her main role was to look pretty and she did it very well.  I had never heard of Anton Yelchin before but he was fairly impressive as the hero, Charley.

There were bad bits, though.  One scene where Jerry can’t get into a house and so gives a strange, rambling sort of threatening homily went on for far too long.  So did the scene where Charley’s best friend, Ed, comes back as a vampire; Christopher Mintz-Plasse hammed it up unbearably.  Background details on the characters and the situation seemed to be sketched in rather quickly, and although the film is not short it could have done with more time for that kind of scene-setting.  Perhaps they should have taken the time from the annoying, over-long scenes.

On the whole, though, Fright Night 2011 is a funny, slick, fast, knowing comedy-horror, and not just one for Colin Farrell fans. If you are a Colin Farrell or David Tennant fan though: unmissable.

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Goldfish Shoals Nibbling on my Toes

27 Aug

On Thursday had my feet gently hoovered by a shoal of little fish called Garra Rufa.  They are a species of Turkish fish that seems to like nothing better than to nibble on human feet, for whatever reason.

Having a fish pedicurech

The lady in the shop said they don’t actually eat the tiny particles of skin they remove, so the shop has to keep them fed on fish food as well.  I suppose that means they won’t be tempted to take people’s toes off if they go too long between customers.

I had wanted to try a fish pedicure for a while, and then one came up on a KGB deal, together with an OPI polish (specially strong nail varnish) and not too far from the city centre.  I wasn’t sure if I would like it, so the deal gave me the excuse to

go ahead; at least if I didn’t like the fish nibbling, I would still get pretty toenails out of it.  As it transpired, I liked it very much.  There’s a bit of a shock at first when they all descend on you at once, but after that it’s a really pleasant feeling, if a little bit tickly sometimes.

I had half an hour of fish hoovering, which I thought was very good value for £9.   My feet felt a bit smoother afterwards, but there wasn’t really much effect.  I think it’s more the novelty and the sensation which is the point.  If you didn’t enjoy tiny fish swimming round your feet it wouldn’t be worth it even if it was free.  The file and polish was a bit of an afterthough once the fish had done their stuff –

for the salon as well as for me, it felt like.  Still, I now have lovely pale blue sparkly toenails.  Not that I’ll be showing them off any time soon; I just got half drowned in a torrential rain laced with hailstones the size of jelly tots.  Ah!  Summer in Glasgow.

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Albania – the Other Side of the World

16 Aug

As soon as I got back  to Britain, Albania started fading like a dream.  When I’m in the UK, Albania seems like a crazy, imaginary place, and when I’m over there the West just seems like a story.  They are two different  worlds and it seems impossible that they could both be true.  Before the last rays of sunshine trickle from my memory I’ll set down a few of my favourite, and least favourite, thing about Albania.

A Roadside Building in Albania

A Roadside Building in Albania

+ve Buildings with bold geometric shapes and contrasting colours, with supporting columns thrown out at energetic angles.   These are typically roadside garages or “kompleks” (small service stations) but you also get hotels and apartment blocks in this form.  I think it’s probably a combination of the survival from the communist era of an appreciation for strong, clean lines, with a post-communist rebellion against the constant grey and lack of decoration,  but I’m hardly an expert on architectural psychology.  The photo is terrible, taken from a moving car with a phone camera, but it gives you an idea.  It may not be to your taste, of course – after all, I’m one of those people who like wind turbines.

+ve The food.  I love Albanian food, generally speaking.  That’s not to say I haven’t had any number of bad meals in Albania, but when it’s done well, Albanian cuisine is amazing.  This, like the buildings, is also a matter of taste.  It tends to be greasy and salty and generally bad for you – but then, I’m Scottish, I’m designed to like that kind of stuff.  My favourite kind of Albanian food is the fast food – byrek me gjise (salty white soft cheese inside flaky filo pastry) and sufllaqe (pork, salad, and chips in a pitta, with lashings of  ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise).  I always make a beeline to my friend Dajana’s sufllaqe shop whenever I return to the town of Lushnje.

+ve and -ve  Sunshine.  Now, this looks like it should be a clear-cut positve, but you can have too much of a good thing.  When you’ve been suffering through Scotland’s excuse for a summer, constant hot sunshine is great, and that’s true up to about 35 degrees (in the sun).  Once it starts to climb above that, however, you start to remember that the sun can kill you – and indeed it feels like it will when you’re struggling through the blazing 40 degree sunshine, gasping for the next patch of shade and glugging litres of water.  Most of the time this trip the weather was perfect – hot enough to persuade you into the sea / lake / river, not hot enough to make you want to drown yourself there.

+ve and -ve  Another plus and minus combined is the driving.  On the one hand I love the freedom of not having to wear a seatbelt and the innovative way people deal with road regulations, such as improvising their own contraflows (when I’m being driven – driving myself would be fairly terrifying).  On the other hand, most people do seem  to drive like idiots, park in the daftest places, and accidents are accepted as a natural hazard.  I saw two while I was out there in less than two weeks.  Neither was serious, but it gives you some idea of the condition cars and bikes – and, in some cases, people – end up in.

-ve But if you think driving conditions are bad, you should try being a pedestrian.  There’s a reason why people walk down the roads, despite the crazy driving, and it’s that the pavements are more hazardous.  The slabs are often broken or missing, and in some places there are uncovered manholes and drains (although this problem is not as bad as it used to be).  It’s not that bad in sensible shoes in the daytime, but throw in the complication of high heels, or nightime, or both, and things get very hairy indeed.

-ve Worse than the broken pavements was the broken sleep. Now this isn’t a typical Albanian thing like the others on the list, it’s more a result of being there in the holidays when people are coming and going and everyone wants to fit as much in as possible.  So there were 4am wake up calls to go fishing, the husband coming in from a local bar in the early hours, relatives arriving from Greece at three in the morning – and sometimes more than one interruption in a night.  I spent a week without a whole night’s sleep and I would have become homicidal if it wasn’t for the siestas.

+ve Affection.  In Albania, your friends show you that they love you, and you can do the same back without fear of being misunderstood.  There’s so much more platonic touching – holding hands, kissing on both cheeks, walking arm in arm.  It’s also true that people can fake affection, particularly when circumstances dictate that they’re supposed to love you, but don’t.  However, that is more than made up for by the genuinely warm welcome my old friends give me (especially my Christian friends), and the sheer joy of spending time with people who truly care about you and aren’t afraid to show it.

(f you’re interested in visiting Albania, you might want to check out my article on Albania as a holiday destination.  Be aware, though, that the advice on visas and using credit cards is a bit out of date – things have moved on and it’s easier to visit and to use plastic than it used to be.)

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