Wednesday, 3 September 2008
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
Contemplating my leg-acy (pun intended...)
Good to be back - there's been some changes at Blogger apparently, and for some reason I've been locked out for a while.
So anyway, what's the pun about? Well, I was admiring Fred's legs. He's recently got into climbing at the local climbing wall, Alien Rock, and we were there a couple of weeks ago. I was taking it easy in the cafe, which is cunningly situated on 1st floor level (2nd floor, for our American cousins). This gave me a great view of Fred as he climbed up the wall right next to me.
And that's when I noticed what fine legs he has. I'm very proud of my own legs. They've served me well, especially when walking and cycling. They look good. They get me around the place. This is good, when you live in a place (such as Edinburgh) where you can get most places by walking.
So I'm really pleased Fred's inherited my legs - they seem to serve him well with the climbing, as mine did when I was his age.
Which leads me to think - there's all sorts of things you can hand down to the next generation. All sorts of ways of having an impact on the future. Our legacies are made up of myriad little things, and every single good thing you leave behind or pass on makes a difference.
Which is cool, because it means you don't have to do anything world-changing to change the world.
So anyway, what's the pun about? Well, I was admiring Fred's legs. He's recently got into climbing at the local climbing wall, Alien Rock, and we were there a couple of weeks ago. I was taking it easy in the cafe, which is cunningly situated on 1st floor level (2nd floor, for our American cousins). This gave me a great view of Fred as he climbed up the wall right next to me.
And that's when I noticed what fine legs he has. I'm very proud of my own legs. They've served me well, especially when walking and cycling. They look good. They get me around the place. This is good, when you live in a place (such as Edinburgh) where you can get most places by walking.
So I'm really pleased Fred's inherited my legs - they seem to serve him well with the climbing, as mine did when I was his age.
Which leads me to think - there's all sorts of things you can hand down to the next generation. All sorts of ways of having an impact on the future. Our legacies are made up of myriad little things, and every single good thing you leave behind or pass on makes a difference.
Which is cool, because it means you don't have to do anything world-changing to change the world.
Saturday, 10 May 2008
Insight and Irony
Picked up a great fauxtation the other day from Jamie McDonald, eminent coach and all-round lovely guy:
'Ironic, isn't it, that we can say we're afraid of our emotions?
Jamie is, I think it's fair to say, very sharp.
'Ironic, isn't it, that we can say we're afraid of our emotions?
Jamie is, I think it's fair to say, very sharp.
Friday, 9 May 2008
Withnail and... what?
I've just listened to The Reunion on Radio 4, bringing together some of the principal creators of the great, great film Withnail and I. Two things jumped out at me and really made me think, especially about the 60s. How British was the 60s? How English?
Richard E Grant spoke of Englishness and "the nobility of failure and permission to fail". Well, I loved that of course. Failure is very rich fertiliser for learning and the birth of new ideas. The British do culturally embrace failure, and I realised it's not about the vain, empty pompous gesture and the stiff upper lip, but about
Richard Griffiths (Uncle Monty in the film) pointed to Danny the dealer's great line at the end of the film - "We are 91 days from the end of the greatest decade in history, and there's going to be a lot of refugees." I'd never considered the great significance of the line before, but it's there in spades. There's been a decade of socio-cultural revolution; people have, up to this point, been able to know that they're actually IN the Sixties, the fabulous Swinging Sixties. By the same token, very soon they're going to be not in it any more. Where next for the revolutionaries, and for those who were displaced by the revolution? It's interesting that the very character who utters the line resurfaces in Wayne's World 2 to answer his own implicit question. (He by now is the world's greatest rock n roll tour manager.)
Richard E Grant spoke of Englishness and "the nobility of failure and permission to fail". Well, I loved that of course. Failure is very rich fertiliser for learning and the birth of new ideas. The British do culturally embrace failure, and I realised it's not about the vain, empty pompous gesture and the stiff upper lip, but about
Richard Griffiths (Uncle Monty in the film) pointed to Danny the dealer's great line at the end of the film - "We are 91 days from the end of the greatest decade in history, and there's going to be a lot of refugees." I'd never considered the great significance of the line before, but it's there in spades. There's been a decade of socio-cultural revolution; people have, up to this point, been able to know that they're actually IN the Sixties, the fabulous Swinging Sixties. By the same token, very soon they're going to be not in it any more. Where next for the revolutionaries, and for those who were displaced by the revolution? It's interesting that the very character who utters the line resurfaces in Wayne's World 2 to answer his own implicit question. (He by now is the world's greatest rock n roll tour manager.)
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
Lego Death Star animation...
If you've seen this already, you'll know it bears watching over and over; if not, you have to watch it. Eddie Izzard's sparklingly spontaneous and surreal monologuing meet Star Wars Lego on U-Tube. Not much more to say really...
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
Hurrah for ignorance!
I've had to admit to myself that I really don't know much - and actually, that's OK. In fact, it's better than that: there's something very liberating about being able to say 'I don't know,' and being happy and accepting and at peace about it. It's empowering - it paves the way for listening and learning. To quote Frank Herbert, 'If you understand, then you cannot learn. By saying you understand, you construct barriers.'
We're often called upon to have an opinion. 'How do you feel about...?' 'What's your view of...?' Politics, religion, the news, women, men, sport - the list is endless. Well, we know what we think, don't we? Nothing wrong with a healthy exchange of views. Actually what I notice myself doing sometimes is saying what I thought about it last time I thought about it. That could have been six years ago, but at least it gives me something coherent to say. After all, formulating opinions out loud would just look stupid, wouldn't it? Heaven forfend we might have an opinion that's wrong, or looks ill-considered.
So the danger is that the need to know stuff and to have an opinion actually prevents you thinking about things. Now that's REALLY silly. Ignorance is plainly a much higher state of being.
We're often called upon to have an opinion. 'How do you feel about...?' 'What's your view of...?' Politics, religion, the news, women, men, sport - the list is endless. Well, we know what we think, don't we? Nothing wrong with a healthy exchange of views. Actually what I notice myself doing sometimes is saying what I thought about it last time I thought about it. That could have been six years ago, but at least it gives me something coherent to say. After all, formulating opinions out loud would just look stupid, wouldn't it? Heaven forfend we might have an opinion that's wrong, or looks ill-considered.
So the danger is that the need to know stuff and to have an opinion actually prevents you thinking about things. Now that's REALLY silly. Ignorance is plainly a much higher state of being.
Wednesday, 23 April 2008
Family time
What a wonderful weekend I've just had!
I'm one of those people who's not the best at keeping in touch, especially with my family. This year though is an auspicious one for a favourit aunt and uncle of mine - 2008 sees her 65th, his 70th, and their 40th, if you follow me. So their kids felt, how could you let that go by without a surprise party? They organised an amazing bash of just such a secret nature, and people came from all over to converge on Yorkshire for the fun. (We made it with 30 seconds to spare, thanks to some slight trouble with lambing. But that's another story.)
It was so wonderful to see their faces when they were ushered into the village hall to see 90 of their nearest and dearest screaming "SURPRISE!" at the top of their lungs. A marvellous time was had by all; even Fred, whom professed to be bored most of the time, tried his first ever spring roll and was impressed. I got to have a whole weekend of catching up with my cousins, to whom I was very close when I was little. I stayed up chewing the fat and drinking calvados with my cousin Willie till 4am. Fred made friends with his second cousins. Kat and I made plans to come to Yorkshire regularly. And we discussed the fascinating business of our great-grandfather and our mysterious great-uncle.
I've come back feeling very warm.
I'm one of those people who's not the best at keeping in touch, especially with my family. This year though is an auspicious one for a favourit aunt and uncle of mine - 2008 sees her 65th, his 70th, and their 40th, if you follow me. So their kids felt, how could you let that go by without a surprise party? They organised an amazing bash of just such a secret nature, and people came from all over to converge on Yorkshire for the fun. (We made it with 30 seconds to spare, thanks to some slight trouble with lambing. But that's another story.)
It was so wonderful to see their faces when they were ushered into the village hall to see 90 of their nearest and dearest screaming "SURPRISE!" at the top of their lungs. A marvellous time was had by all; even Fred, whom professed to be bored most of the time, tried his first ever spring roll and was impressed. I got to have a whole weekend of catching up with my cousins, to whom I was very close when I was little. I stayed up chewing the fat and drinking calvados with my cousin Willie till 4am. Fred made friends with his second cousins. Kat and I made plans to come to Yorkshire regularly. And we discussed the fascinating business of our great-grandfather and our mysterious great-uncle.
I've come back feeling very warm.
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