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.