Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Master Of Farts
06/29/2005
The summer weather, warm and dry stays with us until it breaks on Wednesday. This weather lets us work in the garden, but we also take a day off and make a trip to Portree on Skye to visit an exhibition along with some friends. An Lochran or Flower of The West is a travelling exhibition of visual art, funded by the Scottish Arts Council and the Islands Council reflecting the influence of the Western Coastline on five Glasgow based Artists. I had not realised that the artists are all Masters Of Arts graduates from Glasgow School of Art, if I had twigged this then I would have known what to expect, as this august body have been devoid of any depth of work or originality for thirty years. We were subjected to two video installations of waves crashing onto rocks (very coastline), a video installation of a fishing boat looped to endlessly enter Ardglass harbour in Ireland (subtle twist on Western Coastline), a relief map of the beaches of the Outer Hebrides (eh?), five photos of the Uists reproduced by scratching their outlines on baking foil (very primary school), two huge bits of paper covered in the tiniest detail in low definition ink so that the subject matter of a mountain ridge was invisible (very worrying). The normal form at these affairs is to leave a book for comments, as artists of this calibre do not mix with the public. An Lochran’s book was full of the most sycophantic clap trap left by silver haired politicians and hangers-on, presumably suitably lubricated by the free booze at the opening do. I was very pleased to see the comment “Absolute Pants” hidden amongst the drivel by some honest soul who will now never benefit from Art’s Council funding. The weather gave us the most spectacular drive home with the air gin clear and every detail of our wonderful western landscape magnified for our pleasure, in stark contrast to An Lochran’s nonsense. I could write for days on the way in which rural communities are being betrayed by government at every level. An example being our rural GPs, once respected father figures in every community regardless of their frequent eccentricity, alas now Armani suited and Gucci loafered nobodies concerned only with targets and making sure their surgery doors are firmly locked and bolted by five on the few days they turn up for work. It was revealed this week that these paragons are now in receipt of £6000 per week if they provide medical cover “out of hours”. This has come as a bit of a shock to the public and the Scottish Executive responded by letting a failed GP turned MSP make a statement. I have absolutely no idea how this woman was selected to represent Glasgow Strathkelvin, as she is a complete nincompoop. She stuttered and fluffed her statement and was sinking fast under fire from even friendly journalists, I could hardly contain my laughter as in desperation she justified the BMW booted GPs salaries as being comparable to any Health Service Manager, now there is a bit of news! Doubtless a P45 in on its way to MrsGP/MSP as I write. Because of the popularity of my little column, I am embarking on a UK tour and can be found over the next two weeks at The Scone Palace Game Fair, Hampton Court RHS Flower Show and Art in Action as Waterperry, phone 07890 043542 to check at which Pimms or Champagne Bar I am holding forth. Dearest Dottie and I send felicitous birthday greeting to Pete and Mhairi Katharine Kerr in Madison, 34 years between them! Your Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Up The Yangtze River
06/26/2005
Every now and then we enjoy a magical evening in Glen Trollaigh. These evenings are never forecast and never anticipated, Saturday was just such, the sun shone from a cloudless sky and a steady westerly breeze kept the midges at bay. Dearest Dottie and I laboured in the garden and it was a delight to rest a foot on the old spade for a momment or two, sip a chilled semillion from a plastic cup to draw in the air and beauty of our wonderful Tower of Glen Trollaigh, looking its best while we watch and count the swallows and house martins swooping from nests in the eves, turrets and dormers. Only sunset sent us indoors for a light supper and to watch a superb TV film “A girl in a café”, I think it was called. Such a pleasant end to a hectic couple of days in London at the T.S. group AGM. The Sanderson side of things has been running the group most successfully for years and have gone from strength to strength in everything from banks to drinks and car making. Nevertheless, we Trollaighs still own a good chunk of it and the shipping side has performed very well this year. Because of expansion in China, a delegation from Shanghai was present; imagine my delight to find old Lee Wong amongst them. At the end of a long day Lee, our girls, Dottie and I shot off for a spectacular meal at the King’s Cross Formosa, still as special as ever with full service til 2.00 am, even if you need to pay someone to guard the motor. Lee and I retold many old yarns of our time together when I was Naval Attaché in Shanghai and Lee was in the Chinese Secret Police, for once we were more or less on the same side as we all tried to persuade the bloody French to abandon their out dated colonial aspirations in Vietnam. Of course, it all went pretty pear shaped for yours truly, when my grasp of technology failed and my telephone call whispering pornograhic endearments to Susie the luscious hotel receptionist turned out to be on an open line to the British Ambassador’s horse faced daughter. It was full ahead down the Yangtze and a six-month posting on St Kilda for me! Ah memories. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.