So, Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth and I did indeed make it to Inverness last week to embark upon a scientifically rigorous search for the Loch Ness Monster. We stayed at a hotel on the Lochside. We took a boat ride up the loch to Urquhart Castle. And the results are in…..
Just take a look at the red area on the right hand side of the scanner readings. RIGHT?!?!
As followers of the apoplectic.me Tiny Letter will be aware, the University of Edinburgh’s Creative Writers had their second reading night of the year just over a week ago. I co-hosted with my co-host, the handsome and talented Mr Jacques Tsiantar.
For this event, we only had three minutes for each of our individual slots. That’s about 600 words, which isn’t a lot. But fortunately, the first 600 or so words of my stroke-y memoir of extreme survival stop at a real doozie of a line.
A week stuffed full of different types of culture in Edinburgh this week. On Wednesday, I went the art school for a music industry session organised by Edinburgh University’s careers service as part of their Creative and Cultural Careers Festival.
Now, of course, becoming a writer isn’t necessarily the best step to take for career purposes.
His knife see rustic Labour dight, An cut you up wi ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich!
I’ve been writing a wee bit in Scots, or Scots forms (Lowland Scots, to differentiate from Scots Gaelic), a lot in recent weeks. Firstly, for a short story that I’ve submitted for workshop tomorrow, and secondly for the Nerd Bait Liederbuch. Continue reading Burns Night→
Well. We have to talk about the be-kilted elephant in the room, slumped in the corner, clasping a sticky bottle of Buckfast to his chest.
Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth tells me that referendum questions in the States are usually comprised of statutory legalese. Below that, they’re explained in less comprehensible terms for the voter. But the choice on Scotland’s #indyref ballot paper was stark.
Our host, the partner of ein Autobahnkind, throws the Mercedes people-carrier into bends that lead us to Highgate. Looking out the windows, I want to tweet to every Scot who ever said, “I can’t be doing with London,” and fill 140 characters with wide arboretums and bilingual Eurostar stations and urban parklands and Japanese supermarkets and treetop walks.
[Sign up for apoplectic.me alerts and extra personal reflections here.]
[Update, 26 May, 13:29 BST — This post was written over the weekend of 24 May. Today, the UK’s European Parliament election results were released. Ukip came first across the UK, with 27.49% of the vote and 24 seats. In Scotland, they picked up one seat, with 10.46%, as the Liberal Democrat vote in Scotland melted down. ]
On Thursday, I voted for the first time since my repatriation, in Scotland’s elections to the European Parliament. The neighbourhood’s polling station is the local primary school, and it seemed appropriate that during my absence it has been extended in the modern Scottish style that echoes the Scandic. I thought that I had better toddle along, particularly after Mrs Stroke Bloke’s dad had sent me this riotous Danish public broadcast. I certainly wouldn’t want my next menage à six ruined by political apathy.
A quick plug before we move onto Britishness, strokes, and pile-driving Aussie rock: Nerd Bait will be premiering their latest short-form musical, Wrong Word Write Time (the fictional life story of a pilot suffering from aphasia) as part of Illicit Ink’s Underground night at Edinburgh’s Bongo Club on Sunday, 4 May. Please come, tell your friends, and please share and tweet these links: 1, 2. Thanks!
Long-time readers of the blog may remember the meditative trilogy of posts (1, 2, 3) from this past summer, sparked by Alan Spence’s imagining of the life of the Zen Master Hakuin in his novel Night Boat. Others of you may recall my more recent discussion of empathetic imagination. This week, those threads resurfaced and wove themselves into this post.