[originally an email to the morgueatlarge list, sent July 2003]
BARBIE
I went out to Peebles for a barbecue with Stephen Ellis and some other friends I’ve made through the roleplaying network here. It was lovely and sunny and we stood around in a perfectly manly sort of way, looking at the charcoal and nodding. I even ate some meat. I can honestly admit that I never expected to enjoy a wonderful sunny barbecue in Scotland, except as some kind of sick antipodean prank, but it turned out fine.
Peebles is the kind of small town that you’d invent as a parody of small towns in the UK. Small and scenic, old locals in their Sunday best clustering out of old stone churches, a winding main street with a narrow
footpath, folding green parks and bright, tended gardens. Steve lives in Haystoun Cottage. The river running through is called the Tweed. Only a besuited badger playing cricket with a monocled fox could have made it more charming.
JODHPURS
Speaking of foxes, the kind without monocles are fairly common sights in the cities here, skulking guiltily along under cover of night. It wouldn’t be hard to put an alternative reading on the fox-hunting debate that continuously rages throughout the UK, with the hungry, bedraggled fox representing the lowly working class drudge, and the spiffing, horn-blowing hunters representing, well, representing themselves actually. I have no time for the practice of hunting and killing animals for sport, but I also think there are bigger fish to fry in the world of politics. The hunting debate is a convenient venue to continue the battles of class that have underlined UK social history for the last century, and the fierceness with which both sides put their case, and the sheer amount of energy spent on both sides, disturbs me for all kinds of reasons. The Countryside Alliance (a beautifully spin-doctored name) has mustered massive pro-hunting rallies up and down the country. This issue is threatening to cause a rift between the Commons (voted for a ban) and the Lords (who will not pass the ban) with no forseeable constitutional benefit, nor any real progress on the underlying issues of residual classism. Good lord, people, why can’t you get so energetic about causes that actually *matter*?
Then again, given the massive bias in the Countryside Alliance for a conservative political stance, it’s probably better for my liberal ideals if they stay distracted.
In any case, the pro-hunting crowd have turned on some pleasingly barmy interventions to push their cause. My two favourites: choosing one of the (quite ancient) giant white horses that have been cut from chalk into hillsides around the country and placing a giant rider atop it; and sending two young women to parliament wearing nothing but painted jodhpurs and riding jacket. (The iconography and pageantry of the hunt is clearly very important – maybe a better way to get hunting banned is to enforce safety regulations insisting hunters wear giant pink reflective flourescent outfits and keep their horses under a speed limit.)
MAOW
Another oddity that has recently emerged into my consciousness – big cat sightings in the UK, and particularly in Scotland. Every now and then it comes to light that someone or other has seen a big cat wandering in the wilderness, or even in the city or suburbs. A few recent letters to commuter rag Metro were of the ‘I saw this big cat and no-one believes me!’ type, most from Glasgow. When I asked about it, a friend of mine here named Simon told me his father had seen a big cat a few years ago, and that the popular theory is wealthy people abandon or lose their exotic pets. Classic urban legends stuff, which sent me to the indispensable urban legends reference guide www.snopes.com. Snopes, however, didn’t have much to offer on the big cats. Next stop was http://www.britishbigcats.org, a society of people who Believe. The photos they have are a sight more convincing than the last Bigfoot images I saw. Not to mention the fact that (according to this site, and the photos and reports therein) there have been a few
documented captures of big cats in the UK.
So colour me that shade that means I think the UK becomes a much more interesting place with big cats sneaking through its hinterlands.
EPHELANT
Alastair and I sat in the Elephant House, the best of Edinburgh’s café’s, and talked about his latest miss adventures. That Best NZ songs CD came on, Loyal and Counting the Beat and the others. Luckily I had placed Alastair with a view of the castle out the window, because otherwise it could have been anywhere in New Zealand – something I relish as a long-term Kiwi in Edinburgh, but something a visitor to the place really should try to avoid. Visitors should all be down the road drinking whisky and chomping haggis in
a dark Scots pub. Regardless, it reminded me of the history underfoot and in the neighbourhood, of the famous occurrences in. Greyfriars Kirkyard in one direction and up in Edinburgh Castle in the other. There’s a banality to living here, making some of the romance of history unsustainable – and I think, on balance, that’s a good thing. Romantic notions of the importance and significance of the past are all well and good, but it should be remembered that the past was the present too, once. There’s a kind of beauty in that.
The other draw of the Elephant House is its claim to fame as (one of) the cafés where J.K.Rowling penned the first Potter. I can see why – warm, friendly, relaxed, great big writery tables and a view of an enormous castle out the window. I’m doing my writing here too.
I haven’t read the new Potter. Everyone else is, everywhere. On the midnight release JK turned up in a bookstore on Princes Street here and chatted to kids for an hour or two, which puts her in my ‘very classy’ list. And it should be noted what an achievement it is to create one the of the most anticipated creative works of all time and have it, by and large, live up to expectations.
EDGE
I’m slowly working my way around the NZ Edge website at http://www.nzedge.com/ and from what I see, it is good. Some interesting ideas about the way forward for New Zealand. Worth plugging here, check it out if you have a minute.
Also, people who don’t sign up to any of those ‘reuniting people’ websites make baby Jesus cry. Pick of the bunch for my money is http://www.oldfriends.co.nz/, which if it stays free will be the only one standing in a year or two. I just loved finding this:
http://www.oldfriends.co.nz/oldfriends/institution_photos/institution_photo.asp?id=500
a few people on this mailing list might recognise a few faces… hell, anyone who wants to know what Leon “have you seen my little dog” Verrall used to look like will probably enjoy checking this one out…
OE
Cal arrives in London tonight. Tomorrow morning I go down to meet her. Londoners! Text or call me! 0781 7772635! We will be in town until Sunday evening! It would be nice to see you!
PEACE
love
morgue
(I’m on leave from work for the next two weeks, so anyone who uses my work
address to reach me – don’t expect a reply.)