renaissancewoman

Playing catch-up

2011-07-27T16:35:00.000Z

Some links that might interest you about recent happenings :

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7z-NZ-kY4J4 The son of my Pewter Rose publisher, Matthew McDonnell, has made a film of one of my stories from 'Perfect 10' -it's the internet romance called 'Net Babe'. He and I would love to know what you think - you can comment on this You Tube link.

http://26treasures.tumblr.com/ This is the 26 Treasures website - a project running for the public from St Andrew's Night 2011 to Burns Night 2012 at the National Museum of Scotland in Chambers Street, Edinburgh - where 26 writers were selected to create a piece of writing about 26 individual objects drawn from a hat. This link takes you to the blog pages that the writers undertook to contribute about how they appraoched their task.

Other than these I've been busy with a combined programme of our two new-writing/music
events -The Wood and The Water - at The Catstrand, New Galloway - a delightful evening in a delightful place which went down very well. In Powfoot, we're very close to publishing an anthology of creative writing that's been generated over the last six months by people who live here, supported by dgArts. A launch reading in the newly refurbished Bowling Green Pavilion is planned for Saturday 13th August at 2.00 pm along with a celebration of the work done on the building.

cover design by Ian Burdett - Powfoot resident

It has been a pleasure and a privilege working with these writers.

............................................

And, very soon, will come Southlight 9 - which contains a very fine eco-section and some fine photography along with essays, poetry and short stories from this region and well beyond. Available from The Mid-Steeple soon.

26 Treasures - and my special one

2011-06-18T12:44:00.002Z

This collar was worn by one Alexander Steuart, 1701. Such collars were not worn by serfs generally. This one was worn by a convicted criminal, made a serf at the coal mines of Sir John Erskine of Alva, as an alternative to execution. It was found in the River Forth at Logie, Stirlingshire, and given to the Museum in 1784 by Mr William McKillop. It is a unique relic of serfdom in Scotland, which was not finally abolished until 1799.

Isn't this a startling object - those few words describe an astonishing practice that produced my 'treasure' for the 26 Treaures project - 26 writers being given one of 26 treasures in the care of The National Museum of Scotland and asked to produce a single piece of writing inspired by it. I shall go and visit mine in the next couple of weeks - I'm very excited by this opportunity. The completed pieces will be exhibited at the museum in Chambers Street, Edinburgh from St Andrew's Day 2011 until Burns Night 2012 and there will be podcasts, blogs and videos made of work created. There's a website to tell you more about the 2010 project at the V&A which led to this one : www.26Treasures.com

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The Powfoot writing project that has happened over the last six months has produced a fine collection of work from people who have never tried creative writing before. We are close to completing an illustrated book which will be published in the summer. The content focuses on the experience of living in a coastal community and has work from writers young and old in memoir, poetry, fable and anecdote. More soon.

the shore - illustration by Hazel Lowther

Community - Allotments and Churches

2011-05-22T13:06:00.001Z

Last weekend in Edinburgh had a little social time as well as performing time - the friends we were staying with live on the top floor of a three story tenement, their landing and flat has many plant pots dotted about so no surprise that they also waited five years for an allotment close to The Braid Hills. After our music practice we walked across Morningside to visit it. I love what a kaleidescope of creativity and individuality any communal enterprise throws up - from the pest control devices to the shacks and sheds - and how obvious the human need to create/grow is expressed when looking at the variety and ingenuity of the plots. One plot, known as 'The Skipper's Plot', has nothing to do with boats or the sea but is named after the materials retreived from skips and made into patchwork greenhouses, bean poles and containers. Another sheltered a fox and cubs - I'm sure each one had a story to tell. I wish I'd taken my camera - next time.....

Eating with Vickie & Peter

Out of the earth

thirteen green stalks,

this morning's harvest

due to be blanched,

drenched in butter

and with eyes shut,

sucked.

lych gate interior Cummertrees Church

I did take my camera up to our local church - now sadly unused and up for sale, we hear - I'd promised one our the Powfoot writers that I'd find a photo to illustrate her poem, a lament on the closing of the church. It's not the most beautiful church building in the world; it's unusual for having an English style lych gate and some good sandstone carving, the graveyard is impressive and has the gravestones of both the speculative builders who worked on the idiosynchratic red brick mansions at Cummertrees and Powfoot. But I guess it's as a focus for community occasions that it's the greatest loss.

the tourist view

sandstone carving

Busy, busy.....

2011-05-10T20:02:00.003Z

on Hadrian's Wall

Can't believe how April and the start of May have whizzed by - we've done an early music educational day for kids at Dean Castle,Kilmarnock, visited our favourite bit of Hadrian's Wall, a reunion gig for R's blues band in Leicestershire, a letter-cutting/writing retreat at Taliesin Community Woodland, a book launch in Stonehaven and two, no three, in Dumfries and Sanquhar, a fledgling writing group thriving here in lovely Powfoot.....R is trying to catch up with viols work and I'm chasing several writing tails. Lovely in the middle of it all to have Louis and Jeanie visit and share meals and wine. Southlight 8 was launched at a shared reading withThe Eildon Tree from the Borders - a great event.

Writing Ground, the latest collaboration with Jean, Jackie, Fiona and me, has a pretty little chapbook with six new poems from each of us and B&W photographs - you can have one for £5 including p&p - e-mail vivien@freeola.com

Stonehaven was wonderful - reminded me of Devon and Cornwall - real sea, real cliffs - even if some of them are collapsing into the sea. The occasion was the launch of Pushing Out The Boat 10 - in which both Jean and I have work - and it was a large and jolly gathering. We stayed in a B&B right on the shore with the sound of the waves sending us to sleep.

R inspecting collapsing road in Stonehaven

beach sculptures at Stonehaven

QL

2011-04-17T21:18:00.000Z

staircase on Hadrian's Wall

From Friday until Sunday it's been non-stop QL around here - Friday was our 'Writing Ground' reading - well attended, well received, nearly all the books sold to a really warm audience. Saturday was a music day - four friends, a pile of music and four viols with all day to spend on them - a deeply satisfying activity, very relaxing.

And today - we shot off towards Greenhead on Hadrian's Wall

and discovered a wonderful organic enterprise on the B6318 - Slack House Farm - where they make cheese, rear organic beef and have a superb cafe where we had lunch in a converted farm building - great menu, not a trace of things 'drizzled' or ' served on a bed of....' just good honest food that tasted of what it was made from. They're open from Thursday to Monday each week from April to October but they take bookings for evenings, parties and even offer to make you a picnic to pick up if you phone in the morning. They're busy converting another part of the barn into sleeping quarters for hikers and cyclists. Go and treat yourselves to a bit of QL.....

Richard's lunch - organic pork and beef salad,

wholemeal bread, home made chutneys

Writing Ground and other things....

2011-04-14T21:06:00.003Z

The latest literary venture from my friends and fellow writers - Jean Atkin, Jackie Galley and Fiona Russell - goes public tomorrow night at The Mid-Steeple, Dumfries - 7.00 pm with free entry, wine and cake - and a reading of our new work exploring a sense of place. There is an illustrated chapbook -'Writing Ground' in exchange for a mere £3.00. Other readings are under discussion including one at 'A' The Airts' in Sanquhar at 3.00 pm on May 8th. This will be the third collaborative project this group has created, each satisfying in its own way. Writing can be an isolating activity but I find great comfort in the work I do with others - my three friends above and, at the moment, a small group of writers in the community here who are engaged, under my guidance,in exploring their own sense of this place.

our lovely woodland

The Mill
Acorn Bank, Cumbria

This oat mill was working then,
not just something to peer at
on a day out, but noise and dust,
men shouting, water falling
from lades, in and out, the wheels
grating, husks ankle deep.
The miller's boar roaring his lust,
dizzy hens weaving underfoot.
Small boys, massing like September wasps,
dropping pebbles, earning thick ears.

Their sticks defeated dragons in their path,
their knees were meshed with scratches,
their arses were streaked with grass-stain,
they scratched the pigs' backs with their sticks
through the infinity of summer holidays.

This Easter Day's child carries a worksheet
and a pencil, chewed, that must be returned.
The silent mill walls are studded with boards,
drawings of mechanisms, a pictured history.
The stream, unemployed,
flows by, the lades creak,
the great paddled wheel unconnected.
The child ticks his boxes, his parents beam,
they head to the shop for a postcard.

The Solace of Trees

2011-04-04T20:16:00.001Z

old beech tree, Powfoot

I have a wealth of riches in my life - Richard, my sons, my family,my friends, my creative life in words and music,my little cat and a hundred other blessings - but two friends of mine are ill. I go into the woods to be around the trees which seem so unchanging but which are mostly still growing slowly, steadily, until one day, they will stop. I long to have that level of acceptance of the great cycle of existence. In the meantime I have the solace of trees.

old, old oak tree, Powfoot

Reflected Glory !

2011-03-15T18:16:00.002Z

the very instrument

Just been watching a rehearsal DVD of the recently released HMV CD by I Fagiolini of the Striggio 40-part Mass 'Ecce si beato giorno' - which is at Number One in the classical charts this week and all over Radio 3, and which includes one of Richard's large A-Bass viols. This is an extraordinary gathering of the bright and beautiful in the UK early music world - 40 players and 40 singers drawn from several top professional groups, every one a specialist on early instruments or singing technique - it's as if a conductor had gathered eight of the world's top string quartets and expected them to form an orchestra! Andrew Kerr of The Rose Consort of Viols borrowed the viol for the recording - he may ask for another loan if the whole company goes to Florence to perform a concert of the programme as planned - we hope it has an generous and understanding owner.

If you want a listen go to

http://striggio.ifagiolini.com/about-the-recording/performers/

also a look at the viol which is in the front row, extreme right hand end, too big to miss.

The Very Viol and Richard's own A-Bass before it went to its owner - they really are huge, standing at around 5 feet tall and with a very wide finger-stretch between frets - repetitive-strains-are-us

News from Japan

2011-03-12T15:02:00.002Z

Leigh (Number One Son) said I could post his e-mail home....

Morning from Japan,

First of all, all the family are fine.
Hisae [wife] was doing the kids' pick up from Kindergarden and on a bridge driving when the earthquake struck, scary but got home fine.
I was 55 km away in Kawasaki on a football pitch (no surprise )
On a normal day it takes one hour, yesterday I set off for home 4.00 pm arrived 3.30 am. 11 hours crazy.

All trains in Tokyo stopped running so millions of people on streets.
All mobile phones went down for 6 -10 hours.
As I write this with Kaz [son, 6] next to me, another after-shock, house shakes a little, things move a little.
All highways were shut, so hundreds of thousands of cars going through Tokyo including me by back roads.

It was like being in a Hollywood movie.
Police and fire engines zooming about, people driving with the normal rules no longer in effect, red lights don't matter when people are trying to get out of the city. Many junctions blocked by cars trucks and thousands of people.
Will call later today
going for a nap.

Love Leigh

Kaz, Sakura and Hisae

Today we spent over an hour on Skype filling out the picture. Hisae had been in the car with all three kids driving home after school. She was driving over a bridge when she felt the wind was buffeting the car, but when she saw buildings rocking she realised it was an earthquake so she got off the bridge as quickly as she could, in spite of the car ahead of her slowing up. Leigh gave a graphic description of his slow progress through Tokyo - the highways (motorways) having been closed for use by the emergency services and all trains stopped. Thousands of people were walking home so at every junction where he would have expected 10 or 20 pedestrians, yesterday there were a couple of hundreds at each crossing. Cars were driving on the wrong side of the road to get around the walkers. He said at one point in one hour he travelled 300 metres. However they all got home to Chiba and Hisae set off straight away to fill the cars with fuel and food shopping because they will probably have to stay at home until the nuclear situation is declared safe and the schools re-open - last night they were open for stranded commuters to sleep in, all hotels being full. Kaz (6) told me he wasn't scared and neither was Daddy....

Leigh, Sara-Lucy and Kaz

Launches Galore !

2011-03-10T16:33:00.000Z

cover image by Pamela Grace

It's out - and already we are receiving positive feedback on the look and content of Southlight 8. You can get a copy from DGArts at The Mid-Steeple,

Dumfries or have one posted by contacting Carolyn Yates - e-mail : carolyn@dgarts.co.uk but best of all, you could come to the Gracefield Studios Cafe on Wednesday 23rd March to the launch reading (wine and nibbles too)

from 7.00 - 9.00 pm where you can hear some of the work being read and which includes guests readers from The Eildon Tree, which is produced in our neighbouring region. Submissions are invited now for Southlight 9 - out in July.

You can e-mail me : vivien@freeola.com or post hard copy to Vivien Jones, 5, Lakeview, Powfoot, Annan, DG12 5PG

But before that - on Wednesday 16th March - you could come to The Mid-Steeple where Singing Over the Bones II is having its Dumfries launch. This lovely publication is in celebration of Wigtown Women, their lives and achievements, and has work from a wide variety of writers in poetry, prose and drama. Wine and nibbles and good company. The book costs £6.99 - a bargain at 96 pages - and can be purchased at the launch or by contacting Kriss Nichol

e- mail : kriss.nichol@googlemail.com

World Book Night !

2011-03-07T21:14:00.000Z

Rab Wilson, me and Giancarlo Rinaldi

(photo : Fiona Russell)

I don't think that anyone expected there would be more than a hundred people gathered at the Ewart Library in Dumfries on Saturday 5th March for the World Book Night Party - nor that the table, groaning with the weight of the giveaway books, would be empty by the end of the session. But people perched on ledges, sat in seats in front, beside and behind bookcases or stood to listen to us extol the virtue of our chosen books. Rab had chosen Seamus Heaney's Collected Poems, but he spoke warmly about many writers who had caught his attention over the years. Giancarlo chose Nigel Slater's 'Toast' which is full of delicioius wit, spite and food and I chose 'Beloved' by Toni Morrison because I believe it to be a most profound book on the subject of what she calls 'disremembering ' or willfully forgetting, in relation to bits of history we white Westerners like to gloss over. There was home baking and wine and a choir, The Balliol Consort, to top off the evening. A most good natured, civilised and thought provoking event. I do hope they do it again.

the serious bit....

(photo : Fiona Russell)

Tomorrow I'm off to read at the launch of 'Singing Over the Bones 2' - a publication in celebration of women in and around Wigtown. Liz Niven will be the main speaker but there are various readers with work in the two volumes - bound to be fun at the Supper Rooms in the County Buildings with a bunch of feisty women.

Writing and reading update

2011-03-04T21:33:00.004Z

Great excitement amongst the younger generation to hear that my short story collection - Perfect 10 - is now available from Amazon for download at the Kindle Store at https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004Q9TWKU this is especially amusing since I don't own a Kindle (yet) but Louis' partner, Jeanie, has downloaded it and will tell me how it looks - presumably just like the pages of a book !

I have a short piece in the magazine Gutter 04 - my friend, Joanne McKay, has two fine poems -www.guttermag.co.uk/ - so we are well pleased with ourselves and the Glasgow based literary scene. Whilst we're in Glasgow - I have a piece of non-fiction called The Solway Wild in Spilling Ink Review - http://spillinginkreview.com/ which is part of Unbound Press. Next Tuesday I'm off to Wigtown to read at the launch of Singing Over the Bones 2 - an anthology celebrating Wigtown Women - volume 1 was a delight to hold and read so I'm looking forward to that one. Main speaker will be Liz Niven and the event is in the Supper Rooms at the County Buildings.

At the other end of the editing process - Southlight 8 - will be out very soon - sharp writing and some beautiful imagery even if I say so as one of the editors - and will be available from DGArts at The Mid-Steeple, Dumfries. There is to be a launch reading on Wednesday March 23rd at Gracefield Studios with guest readers from The Eildon Tree magazine, based in Selkirk. More details to follow.

Then there is tomorrow at the Ewart Library when Rab Wilson, Giancarlo Rinaldi and I will be reading and giving away books - 48 each ! There's musical entertainment and wine and nibbles so well worth a visit in support of the book and your local library.

Negotiating waterfalls

2011-03-01T14:59:00.000Z

Yesterday Jackie Galley and I went to Crichope Linn, near Thornhill, a place that we four writers (plus Jean Atkin and Fiona Russell) has decided would be a good place to focus our Writing Ground project on. I'd never been before but Jean had said the path up the gorge was narrow and slippery so I was a bit nervous setting off. It was a beautiful day and we had fortified ourselves with soup and crusty bread at Thomas Tosh before we started. The path was narrow and slippery but the woodland, river and rocks were compelling. There were a couple of places where the path was inches wide and very muddy but there no question of not getting to the top - I had my new camera with me and I wanted to take the location in with it and with all my senses. We have a reading booked for the Dumfries & Galloway Wildlife Festival at The Mid-Steeple on the evening of Friday 15th April.

The Waterfall at Crichope Linn

On Sunday I'd had the first gathering of aspiring writers from this village - together we are planning to create a publication about aspects of living here. I've already had three submissions of material and there was much enthusiasm for the next meeting and a great diversity of voices. I think the enthusiasm was just as much for the prospect of doing something together as for the writing itself - though the quality of those three submissions is promising - I'm so looking forward to continuing with this.

we're refurbishing our Bowling Green hut too

Moods of the Moment - elation and blazing anger

2011-02-17T15:02:00.003Z

On Tuesday Richard and I entertained a group of 40 members of the all women J-Club in Annan with our 'Introduction to the Music and Instruments of the Renaissance' show - using our large collection of early instruments and our repertoire of 16th century music, dressed for the part in all our finery. These evenings remind me of how much we and our audiences enjoy the sharing of our interest/obsession with Renaissance arts - our audience could not have been more attentive or enthusiastic and I like to think that we rose to the occasion with our performance. Certainly the Q & A afterwards was prolonged and focussed. Every year amongst the castles and stately homes we do two or three shows for groups like the J-Club - and lately I've done writing workshops for similar groups - people who consider themselves to be 'ordinary' but on the contrary, I think they are extraordinary, mostly in the second half of their lives, they maintain an interest in life outside their homes and in the people around them, love to discover things they haven't experienced before and continue to be curious about life and learning. They are such a resource in any community.

One lady in our Tuesday audience approached me after the show and asked might I consider returning to give a history lesson on James IV because she'd no knowledge of this best of renaissance kings - she might well have been in her seventies.

our local community group is restoring the Bowling Green hut

I feel this is somehow connected to my blazing anger about all the talk about closing, combining or restricting museum, gallery and particularly, library hours as a gesture towards the local economy - please use the link below to hear a masterly exposition on the place of profit in education by writer Philip Pullman and if you agree with him, make sure your MP, MSP and local councillors know what you think. This government shows every sign of caving in under public pressure - eg: today's abandonment of the plan to sell off large parts of England's forests - so if we all push.....

Don't forget World Book Night is on Saturday 5th March. The Ewart Library in Dumfries is celebrating with a party from 5.00 -7.00 pm with a series of short readings, a musical break and a great give-away of books - those reading will be Rab Wilson, Gwen Kirkwood, Giancarlo Rinaldi and me - it's a great chance to celebrate your library, writers and the place that books continue to have in our lives. See you there !

After the quiet month comes some activity...

2011-01-28T22:04:00.004Z

best to cook the sevilles whole

I had a long, rather domestic January - lots of reorganising space and paperwork, making our year's supply of marmalade, polishing off Southlight 8 (nearly ready now and it's beautiful) and clearing the decks for an intense writing month. Then all in a tumble this week comes various bits of writing news from the last six months' submissions - I have a poem in From Glasgow to Saturn -the literature webzine for Glasgow University - a story - Spit and Promise- accepted for Pushing Out the Boat in May - one of my project episodes will be in the imminent Gutter magazine, three scenes from my play 'Lemon Drops' in an American collection and my poem in response to Burns will be in Fankle 5. That was fun - I do hope Dumfries Writers carry on with this sparky little broadsheet.

Of course, there were also disappointments but every writer gets acquainted with those early in their career....

I like to add dark rum and slivers of crystalised ginger

to my marmalade

I forgot to mention my poem Roll On 2094 (which notes our missing the Solstice Eclipse) on Poets Online which sets writers a prompt each month - I love the variety and quality of the work they post.

A Blank Sheet.....

2011-01-04T15:45:00.001Z

Christmas weather at Powfoot

I love the feeling at the beginning of a new year of a great blank sheet of paper waiting to be written upon - I know several people who find that idea terrifying - but for me it's as exciting as when, as a child when my favourite present was a thick, blank drawing book, I received not one but two one Christmas. Bliss ! So, what's on my agenda ?

My 2011 Creative Scotland fiction project - women amongst warriors.
A reading at the Ewart Library on World Book Night (March 5th) with Rab Wilson and Carolyn Yates.
My Powfoot community project, when I will encourage the inhabitants of the village to write about life here. Might well include some opportunity for my new camera to shine.
A new collaborative venture with Jean Atkin, Jackie Galley and Fiona Russell for the Dumfries and Galloway Wildlife Festival in April, called Writing Ground. And then everything and anything else that crops up in my writing world - some of which may lead me into new areas and friendships.
A dramatised memoir that may well develop into a collaborative performance with the musicians.
Then there's all the purely musical happenings for 2011 - performances, courses, exhibitions, new repertoire - which will feature our new Schnitzer recorders which arrived just after Christmas and which we've been getting to know. Another lovely unknown are all the pieces of music that we haven't yet discovered but will through the course of the coming year, and the new places we will play in.

Such a beautiful nuisance.....

2010-12-19T16:27:00.009Z

Powfoot beeches in snow

The woodland at Powfoot is picture-perfect - powdery snow lying inches thick along branches, that lovely scrunching sound when you walk on it - but the cold has played havoc with my son's house up the road. The back of the house where all the water inlets are, faces north so the minus 12 temperature has done what that level of temperature has to do and created ice in his heating system, then the inevitable burst pipes....we are getting to know our local plumber rather well !

2010 Christmas Tree

Today I found some fallen chestnut branches in the woods for our Christmas tree - a little boy from further along the terrace once offered me their second best Christmas tree thinking we only had some old branches for ours - but it looks very pagan and magical when the lights and decorations are on it. It's a ritual by now I can't think we'd like a 'traditional' tree at all.

2010 bauble

and a snow poem.....

Snow in Bologna
Bologna, Spring 2006

It was only March, so, no surprise
to someone who lives in Scotland
to hear the grey flakes whispering,
moving diagonally to make
lace on my shivering shoulders,
as we paced the piazza.

The guide frowned, puzzled,
her touch screen had not warned
of non-tourist weather.
Her ‘You must have brought it with you’
only partly a joke.

Outside, the view whited out,
but we walked to a café
and drank thick chocolate.

Later, you slept and I slipped
away, found the museum where
the old instruments hung like
bandits on show.

An exploded lute,
a warped flute,
quarto music books,
a little wrinkled,
a single viol.
I pressed my ear
to the muting glass,
saying over and over
‘Ciciliano, Ciciliano.’
and found it strange,
in that 500 year old air,
not to hear it singing.
much stranger
than March snow in Bologna

Christmas Carol - a seasonal offering

2010-12-16T20:55:00.003Z

Christmas Carol

That’s me….Carol. I have to apologise about the limp. It was the donkey. It didn’t mean it. It’s good-natured as donkeys go. And I was pulling its tail at the time. To stop it trampling the baby……what baby ? Little Tristan. Baby Jesus. Oh sorry, that’s me, isn’t it…starting in the middle of the story. Sorry.

It started in October, mid October. We were shopping. They sell organic veg in that shop in the High Street and it was a lovely afternoon; I had my grandkids, Sophie and Marcus, with me so I wandered into Woolies afterwards. There was a big display of things for Halloween at the door, all black and orange plastic, but further in there was one for Christmas. You know the sort of thing…tinsel, lights, chocolate tree things…..Sophie and Marcus were mesmerised. I said ‘it’s a bit early for Christmas’ and they said ‘not at all…..Mummy ( that’s my Aurora) has already bought several Christmas presents and ordered a bumper hamper from Marks & Spencers…so, we’re all right’

My heart sank, I can tell you…..I’m not Christian religious but I always liked festivals and the changing of the year…we always did what we called natural Christmas, making not buying….chestnuts in the fire, fruit cake…the smell of those spices mixed with rum ( one year Aurora, she would have been nearly three, drank a glass of rum and slept for eight hours….first time she’d ever done that ) oh, and nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger……mince pies. She loved baking…little as she was, she stood on a chair with an apron down to her ankles stirring that cake mixture, and me dropping in the cherries and raisins and a bottle of Guinness. She liked the foam.

You wouldn’t think it to look at her now. Professional woman she is…..own office, own laptop, own car…..own house and these two lovely children. A bumper hamper from Marks & Spencer. What kind of Christmas is that ?

So, I had an idea. Serefina, who lives on the next steading, has just had a baby. Tristan. ( Lovely name ) It’s a right old menagerie over there. She’s free range. She keeps chickens and sheep and two donkeys and I have an old stable. Her bloke’s got a beard and both of them have any amount of ethnic clothes, long coats, loose dresses, that sort of thing. He’s called Rufus and he said he could bring some friends for extras.

Well, Serefina thought it was a great idea and he was easily persuaded by the promise of some home-brew afterwards…….. and we got everything ready. So, since today’s Christmas Eve, yesterday afternoon I phoned the kids and said I had a surprise for them, would they like to come over ? They love coming over here…there’s no computer or television but they play sliding down the banister for hours on end and I let climb them trees which Aurora doesn’t……

I’d put some straw in the barn, and Serefina has a pig trough that we stood on a box and we put a blanket to line it. The place was full of chickens…were there chickens in Bethlehem ? Rufus brought over the electrics….lots of wire, a cassette tape recorder (still working ) and a couple of standard lamps ( he’d some idea about halos) and I had several storm lamps for atmosphere. They were coming at five o’clock so we all got dressed at four o’clock. Tristan had had a good sleep and was burbling. Serefina looked quite lovely in the blue robe. Not so sure about Rufus’ friends……I had a green lurex head-dress ( it was an old dance frock cut-up ) a black velvet robe and a box of Turkish Delight for the Christ child.. At the last minute, Rufus and I went out to collect the animals. There weren’t any lambs of course, being winter but we got three sheep and the calmer of the two donkeys. By ten to five we had something. Rufus had managed to get the standard lamps to throw halos round Serefina and his heads, his friends had settled on the floor amongst the animals and Tristan was gurgling at all the activity. I lit the storm lamps, we set the tape recorder playing ‘Silent Night’ and we switched off the main electric light …..that was something. Just like a picture.

I heard the car draw up and then their voices….I’d said come to the stable….and then they were there, the two kids with eyes like saucers and Aurora looking….well, I have to admit it, long-suffering but trying to smile. I did what we practiced…I gave the Turkish Delight to Serefina and she propped it on the pig trough for Tristan. The kids smiled and came closer.

That’s when the power socket went bang…..Rufus’ hook-up not quite there…..the donkey shat itself and tried to run, it knocked the pig trough over and Tristan rolled out, laughing….the donkey started to kick awfully close to the baby so I just grabbed its halter…. it carried on kicking me until I got it to the door. Then I sat down to rub my leg. Bit of a scuffle. Marcus came over…Sophie just behind.

‘What did you think, you two ? I wanted Aurora to hear.

Marcus looked at me and beyond to the others, to Serefina who was picking straw out of Tristan’s hair, to Rufus who was examining the smoking plug in his hand as if it might explain itself. He looked at the sheep who were chewing at the robes of the gang on the floor.

‘ I don’t think Social Services would like it much, Gran.’ He said.
They needn’t think I’m bothering with Easter either !

Axa - another year

2010-12-07T21:40:00.001Z

Axa - the Beguiling

The snow has her very excited - chasing snowballs and tossing them in the air as if they were mice or small birds, ambushing us from under the saw horse in the garden - she trots after us on our walks, then skives off on some personal quest. She's about four years old now.

Our first real snow came last night - about 30 mm perfect for snowballs. It lies along dark branches under a sun that rolls along the horizon - lovely walking today but the wild weather elsewhere has cut across various musical plans over the last week. We did manage to get to Langholm for our guest appearance at the Langholm Orchestra's Christmas concert on Sunday. We drove on the main roads, slowly through the freezing fog at the Border, and carefully into the deeper snow in the town. This orchestra offers the opportunity to people who can play an instrument fairly well, but who aren't professional musicians, to meet and play the music they love together. I guess all musicians dream of a solo career at some point in in their lives - few can achieve this - so I think we ought to celebrate the small bands and orchestras across the country that allow people to express themselves as best they can in music, for their pleasure and ours. Richard and I sang all the carol arrangements from backstage and I suddenly felt fearful that all those lovely words and tunes might be slipping away from children's common memory - they carry such powerful metaphors in our minds - whatever the residue of belief.

Robbed !

2010-11-26T17:35:00.002Z

I had the horrid experience of having my purse-wallet stolen last week - I'd just had a lovely lunchtime with a friend, I paid for my lunch and we left the cafe together, just after we'd parted I opened my shoulder bag to pay for something and there my wallet wasn't...sinking feeling, followed by rapid retracing of steps to the cafe, no luck, then to the police station where a strangely passive policewoman took the details but with little promise of solution - then to the bank to cancel cards where the clerk was sympathetic, efficient and helpful, even to the point of withdrawing a tenner from my bank account to get me home. But of course it wasn't the small amount of money or the inconvenience of the cards - already replaced - but my wallet carried my Meccano Hornby train clockwork key from the train set I successfully pleaded for on my fifth birthday - some receipts from my Italian trip with son, Louis, and a small red silk good luck charm from Japan given to me in a time of trouble ( it worked!) Irreplacable. Then came the sleepless nights, the wee small hours troubled by that feeling of intrusion and wondering why so much of my identity seemed locked up in those material things - very surprised at so strong a reaction to a very small crime - what must it be like to be a real victim ?

Here's a piece I wrote about my train set...my husband, ever watchful of the detail, points out that it wasn't until 1956 that Triang took over Hornby and I had my fifth birthday and my train set in 1953.

Triang Hornby

The thing was, I didn’t want another doll episode. Grandma’s sly favouritism towards my older sister still rankled. It’s true she kept her socks clean for longer and she didn’t lose her hair ribbons, but it still wasn’t fair. Two dolls ; one more beautifully clothed, more curly haired than the other. One dressed in white silk, the other in yellow cotton. One with white leather boots with tiny studs, the other in knitted bootees. One in glitter wrapping, the other in Father Christmas paper. If we had the same thing it was bound to happen again. So I thought of something different. Grandma had already asked for our Christmas-lists.

My friend, my rich friend, Jessica had a brother called Edward and Edward had a train set that ran all around his bedroom ( they had one each of course) and out into the landing upstairs. It was electric and had points that could send either train one of several different ways round the loops of track that went under chairs and the desk that he did his homework on. Though I went to play with Jessica ( she had a dressing-up box with her mother’s old, pale party dresses in it that smelt faintly of powder and perfume, with real sequins and hidden zips) I always ended up watching Edward and his train set. If he was in a good mood he let me make an announcement through cupped hands.

‘The train now approaching Platform Two is the 4.35 from Plymouth to Falmouth, calling at Polbathic and Saint Germans.’

There wasn’t really a station at Polbathic but it was the nearest village to us and since Edward was the station master, we had to make it up. Jessica didn’t like trains or Edward much, so she went in a sulk and read in her room. One day I asked Edward how much his train set had cost.

‘No idea.’ He said, ‘It was a present. I didn’t get it all at once. I just add to it each birthday. I’m getting a tunnel for Christmas.’

I thought Daddy would be a better bet than Mummy. I started to talk at tea-times about trains. I drew lots of trains in my drawing book. I asked if we could go and watch the trains pass by from the hill above the line. Finally, I mentioned I would quite like a train set for Christmas.

My sister spluttered her tea and Mummy scolded her. My little brother said ‘Can I play,Vivi ?’ but he said that all the time. ‘Thought you wanted a cradle for your dolls, you two.’ Mummy said. ‘Well, I’m certainly not having a train set,’ added my sister. ‘That’s a boy’s toy.’ She laughed and they all joined in.

Grandma must have laughed too for, on Christmas morning under the tree lay two boxes, one in gold paper, the other in silver. My sister’s cradle had flowers stencilled on the headboard, mine had shapes. Hers was white, mine was yellow. She was there, of course, though I only remembered three Christmases so far, she was always there to enjoy her giving. We did thank you and powdered cheek kisses, then turned for our main presents from Mummy and Daddy. Daddy had gone to the other room but my sister couldn’t wait. She opened a huge box and lifted out a push-chair just the right size for her doll. There was a quilt and a pillow with a frill and even a sunshade. She glowed. My brother ripped open his box and cooed with delight. It was a carpenter’s set with bright coloured blocks, all different shapes, and a tin of tacks and a wooden hammer. Mummy showed him that the blocks were already pierced and he began hammering straight away. ‘Making something.’ He said proudly. I couldn’t see my box. I looked at Mummy and she looked a bit anxious, like when she’s made something new for supper and she doesn’t know if we’re going to like it. Daddy came through and crooked a finger at me. ‘This way, little lady.’ He said so I followed him into the dining room. I gasped.

On the carpet lay a single circle of track. On the track sat a green engine, a black coal truck and a brown goods wagon. I leaned closer and saw they were joined up by little hook and eye links. Daddy took one hand from behind him and handed me a metal key. He pointed to the hole in the side of the engine. ‘ Try it.’ He said. So I put the key with its square end onto the square shaft in the engine and felt it tense as I turned it. I set it back on the track. I thought I heard it hum with excitement but perhaps it was me. Daddy pointed to a lever in the cabin. I flicked it. And the train went. Round and round and round and Daddy laughed and I laughed and the others came in and laughed too, Grandma and my sister because they thought it was a silly present, my mother from relief, my brother because everyone else was laughing and me and Daddy for joy. He bent his knees and took his other hand from behind him. In it were a pair of V shaped pieces of track. ‘They’re points.’ He said. And my Daddy and me put our smiling heads together and bent over my Hornby train set and took out the metal brackets and fitted the V shaped pieces so my train could go round the track or across an S shaped route in the middle. And it never crashed once. And that was my best Christmas.

Eco-poetry - what's that then ?

2010-11-13T22:04:00.003Z

Spent a lovely day up at Westerkirk, in the hills above Langholm, with the fledgling writing group that my friend, Fiona, facilitates. We had a great time discussing ways of getting started in the writing of poems, drank coffee and ate sandwiches and laughed a lot. I don't imagine this group will need much encouraging - very sparky - or perhaps Fiona has grounded them so thoroughly they're ready for creative flight.

no geese in the picture but they fill the sky night and morning

over Powfoot with their calling.

I was thinking quite a lot about what people call eco-poetry in relation to my own writing. I often write about the natural world, in fact a couple of my recent performance pieces have been collaborations with other writers and/or musicians on natural themes - but is eco-poetry something more ? Is it poetry on the natural world that takes a stance ? Is this an eco-poem ? Sorry I pasted the wrong poem - one I'd used before recently - but that might be a step too far in the recycling business.

Lines in the Sky

Cirrus graffiti, scrambled white on blue,

delineates air too cold for flight lines,

so the geese make black tacking stitches

in darts across the fabric of the lower skies.

Their song is a non-song, a signal too mobile

for form, too urgent for melody, it summons

strays towards the outside edge of the darthead,

the beats repeating ‘we’ not ‘I.’

We, who note their patterns, throw lines

around their habitual places, lines in the sky

that promise sanctuary, the geese oblivious

to atonement for voracious humanity.

We are starting to put together the 8th edition of 'Southlight' - a literary journal of prose, poetry and analysis - that has recently been adopted by DGArts - so we are looking for high quality writing (and B&W illustrations) in any of these genres from new writers, young writers, established writers and any other kind of writer. Southlight 8 will be published in late February 2011. Send your submissions - 6 poems, prose up to 2500 words, or ideas for critical work - to vivien@freeola.com

Looking Back and Forward

2010-11-07T21:44:00.000Z

oak tree : Greenhead

I've been moaning away about not having time to reflect on the things we've been doing - a necessary process for me if there's to be any growth or improvement in what we're doing. So, on this quiet day, I was thinking about our latest excursion with 'Tree' in Carlops (10 miles south of E/Burgh)

three weeks ago. This happened in the Village Centre, which used to be a glorified shed but which has been beautifully refurbished and modernised so that it functions as cinema, theatre, meeting place and concert venue - and there's a fine kitchen. They were a great audience - thoughtful and most appreciative of the programme, clued-up about trees, poetry and music - their questions were challenging but most welcome. We have a bit of a question about where we take it from here - it's in the nature of the jazz/blues/folk music for the material to evolve as the players wire into it - but the poetry was written and printed out for this programme and I don't know whether Jackie and I will return to it as a whole programme, though I'm sure we'll both continue to write about trees. I'm sure it won't be the end of this particular collaborative group - much too much fun !

Then last weekend we and our viols were in Edinburgh with viol player, Vickie Hobson, and singer, Adriana Skaraas, to work with Philip Thorby on various songs. No matter how well you think you know your musical material a session with PT will deliver insights into how it might be played - he's no dictator, it's always a discussion but it's rare that we are in disagreement. Two of the pieces we worked on were 'Madame, D'Amours' from the Henry VIII Book and William

Byrd's ravishing 'Out of the Orient Crystal Skies' - we are so fortunate that in UK our very best professional players are willing to coach in this way - we always feel so excited after these sessions and feel our playing is more sure-footed.

Philp Thorby playing one of R's Viols

Quiet Times

2010-11-02T16:42:00.000Z

Reed mace blades

Today I installed our new (nearly new) photocopier and then spent some time persuading our A3 printer that it should be willing to print things for us - I'm sure you all know the procedure - uninstall, re-install, try a different USB lead,USB point, update drivers, switch it on and off - but it still sits there looking elegant but useless. I will get serious with it tomorrow. The thing is, for the first time in two months I have a quiet week for doing such things. September and October were wonderfully busy with all the things we do together - performing music, teaching music, learning music - then the things we do separately - making instruments, writing, reading performances and workshops and then some musical socialising to mop up the few spare days. I need to re-establish my working rhythm before embarking on my autumn/winter projects. Putting the clocks back has coincided with some pretty wet and weary weather descending so seaside walking has been impossible too. And I have plans for outings with my new camera....

Jones & Shufflebottom

2010-10-15T15:43:00.001Z

surely one of the great company names ?

The returning train from London to Carlisle had to detour around Stoke-on-Trent due to the wrong kind of electrics or something equally hazy. I spotted this piece of sign writing as we passed through Stoke - it's a plumber's merchant. I'm sure we must be related. It's called Jones & Shuffs these days.

Anyhow - this was me in a haze having left Powfoot at 8.45 am, sped to London in something less than 4 hours, whizzed around on the tube with son, Louis, before going to the Poetry London launch and prize-giving. So much to think about - the pleasure of being with Louis and Jeanie on their home turf, the unexpected delight of my big sister, Frances and her husband, Brian, being there, also an early music contingent of players/friends who usually see us in Greenwich at the International Early Music Festival each November. Foyles itself is a treasure trove - good job there was no time to linger or I would have spent my winnings on the spot. There was not a seat to be had by 6.30 pm - no wonder with Michael Longley, Annie Freud and a new name to me, Toby Martinez de las Rivas (he's the one JoAnne thought looked like Justin Timberlake) reading for us. Colette Bryce organised and hosted the event - what a lovely speaking voice, Irish of course - and we all settled down to an evening of changing voices and styles. Michael Longley had judged the competition and said, quite rightly, that there was little to choose between the top five or so, they were all lovely but that maybe he had chosen mine as first amongst equals because it had managed to incorporate things like Bisto, knitting patterns and a tea-caddy into its content - he had earlier commented how much he was little attracted to what he called 'jelly-mould' forms which he saw a lot of. Dear man, he said he found the final lines of my poem 'heart-stopping'. I read it out to a very warm response, and Jeanie filmed it, Annie Freud not only remembered me from our master-class in Dumfries a while back, she remembered the poem I submitted there too - she had said then I should enter the big competitions so there was a fine circularity in that. Another fine reader. Another nice surprise, Foyles had a stack of my poetry collection at the reading and by the end there were many fewer than before. Afterwards Louis and Jeanie and I trotted off to a Tapas Bar in Greek Street, one that's part of a Diners Club system that lets you have mid-week meals at 50% of the cost. This morning, sharing the experience with Richard, he noted on the receipt that it said ' & Establishment' so we checked the address and yes, it was The Establishment, late of Peter Cook. It had only operated from 1961-1964 - yet what happened there changed the face of UK comedy for ever. In the dark I was unaware of the the blue plaque on the brickwork.

Now what ?

Rose Bay Willow Herb / Fireweed...how many plants is it ?

2010-10-07T17:25:00.000Z

taken with my new Lumix G1 this afternoon

The woods were just beautiful today - changing almost by the hour from deep summer green to gold and yellow and brown. There are lots of horse chestnuts so lots of high gloss conkers and their cases lying around and it's such a year for berries, the small creatures of the wood will have a good winter. Axa came part of the way and I tried, yet again, to photograph her - so difficult with a black all over cat unless you get her eyes.

When we got to the golf course I thought I'd catch both stages of the fireweed - when it dries up after seeding in tight basket-weave curls and when it's puffed up with down umbrellas.

The gorse is coming again too - a real 24/7 shrub - blooming beside the scarlet hips or haws, can't remember which....

That's enough photos - here's a poem

In Praise of Small Streams

No signposts, no litter bins,

no board with wildlife pictured,

no invitation to heritage angels.

But climb over the barbed wire,

snake through a cow-patted field,

with fiercely nettled edges,

keep an eye on the rampant heifers

advancing.

Slither down a mudslide bank,

smear your clothes with unseen slime.

Sit by the stream.

Sit as a stone, cold and still, invisible

to the life in and out of the water.

Insects resume their cruising,

fish seize the insects, dippers

seemingly drown themselves,

a kingfisher makes a turquoise dart

through the air, frogs slowly blink.

Grass separates into species,

some razor-edged, some striped,

some purple, some bent to the water.

Sun flares through willow leaves,

moving silver abstracts on the surface,

a bold insect bites you, your prize

for being still, the air shimmers.

This is just for you.

Today,

a dragonfly in iridescent nuptial glory

flies and mates and dies unseen.

Tomorrow,

when you are elsewhere,

the small streams will tumble on,

without you.

Poetry London Prize

2010-10-05T14:08:00.002Z

Sitting with my train tickets, hairdresser appointment made and today this poster came which makes it all seem a bit more real. Delighted that Annie Freud, who I had a brilliant master class with a couple of years back and who was most encouraging about my poetry, will be reading too. I wonder if she will remember me at all....

The day before we are back at The Dick Institute in Kilmarnock to give a schools workshop and then play for the public around the 'Royal Engagement' exhibition. We played for the opening a month ago. And then we have our second 'Il Primo Libro' in Castle Douglas on Saturday 16th. I really like time to reflect after events so I don't find these concertina weeks so easy, especially when they are so different. I expect I will survive but I am looking forward to a quiet November when I will be able to focus on some new writing again - I have a Creative Scotland Writer's Bursary to support my next project - women amongst warriors - and all sorts of research to do.
Latest issue of Sarasvati - from Indigo Dreams arrived today with my memoir Grandma & Polly in it - this is one of my Malta pieces, or rather this one is about leaving sun-spoilt Malta for damp, grey England - quite a shock for this tanned little girl. This magazine invites more substantial submissions than single poems, wishing to show a spread of work - or a whole short story - worth a try all you writing friends.

Wigtown Book Festival off to a great start.....

2010-09-27T14:26:00.001Z

- Glass at Bedtime -

hand coloured lino-cut from the cover of Southlight 7

Hugh Bryden

Wigtown Book Festival update : Thursday 30th September is the launch of the new-look Southlight - this will be number 7 of the literary magazine I've been involved in from the start. With this edition DGArts takes over the design and promotion. It will be in A4 format from here on with colour covers and B&W illustrations as well as its continuing core literary content of poetry, prose, comment and interview. The launch is in the County Buildings at 6.00 pm to which everyone is welcome for wine, nibbles and conversation in the company of Jackie Kay, who has agreed to host the event, Carolyn Yates( DGArts LDO ,the editors, John Burns, Angus Macmillan and me. You can buy your copy , hot off the press, at the launch.

Also on Thursday at midday in the Wigtown Ink Festival Yurt (outside the County Buildings) is an exploration of the Time and Tide project - four writers working in and around their communities to explore the life of coastal communities - they will talk about their work in progress. Betty Tindal, Fiona Russell, Jackie Galley and me.

Is Petrucci cool ?

2010-09-17T16:18:00.006Z

De tous biens plaine in Odhecaton, the earliest printed music,
this tune was a real 'top-of-the-pops' across Europe.

Isn't this beautiful ? We are putting together a programme of music from early printed sources and Odhecaton, put together by Ottaviano Petrucci in Venice in 1501 comes in as the earliest in Europe. Occupying our minds is the entertaining puzzle of whether it sounds as intriguing and distinctive to an audience as it does to the players - a common preoccupation in early music - and one the authenticity crowd regard as a minefield. Some of these early pieces have multiple repeats of similar tunes and many, many verses, so a historically informed performance can run the risk of pleasing only the scholars and academics. We usually assume our audience is a non-specialist one and load our programmes towards entertainment rather than education, though it's always a delight when someone approaches us afterwards and reveals inside knowledge. There will be only three of us giving this programme - Adriana, our singer and budding percussionist and Richard and I - but this intimate group gave a very successful concert at Alloa Tower last year so we are confident that it will be just as lively as the fuller line-up.

Take a look at http://www.thegallowayconsort.co.uk/

The dates are :

Saturday 2nd October midday at the Parish Church, Wigtown in the Book Festival.

Booking : http://www.wigtownbookfestival.com/

Saturday 16th October Gordon Memorial Hall Hall, Castle Douglas 7.30 pm

Booking : http://www.dgarts.co.uk/

The Dick

2010-09-11T14:31:00.002Z

The Dick Institute, Kilmarnock

Great night last night - playing for a reception for the opening of a tapestry exhibition at The Dick Institute. They placed us at the top of a staircase under a dome so the sound of the instruments drifted about the building - the recorders sounded particularly ethereal and there were lots of plaudits. One of the best things was Rab and Margaret Wilson stopping by, impromptu, to sing a couple of 16th century Scottish songs with us. I'm full of admiration for the East Ayrshire Museums staff who create such imaginative exhibitions - this one runs from Sat 11th September – Sat 18th December 2010 in the North Museum Gallery. A beautiful new exhibition featuring the work of the Dean Castle Textile Team, ‘A Royal Engagement’ takes its inspiration from an impressive tapestry currently on display at Dean Castle. We're doing a schools workshop there on 12th October around the celebratory courtly music of the time.

The Salon

2010-09-08T17:02:00.004Z

not a brilliant photo but shows some of the ambience.....

that's JoAnne behind my left elbow

What a fun night was had.... the audience completely filled the space, the writers were lit up by the audience, the cup cakes were rich and very naughty and the coffee was excellent - the poetry was good too, a mix as rich as the cakes. Thomas Tosh is a great venue, spacious and full of interesting objects and Paul, the owner, is planning a series of salons there. My earlier musings about performance structures were hardly necessary where the work was so different - JoAnne is a fearless poet, going places that most of us would be afraid to go and Hugh is sharp as a stiletto most of the time but sometimes with a really attractive kind of soft edge, a tenderness that makes a listener smile. Thomas Tosh keeps a range of poetry books for sale, many of them the hand-made books that Hugh Bryden has a hand in designing, that make perfect gifts. It seems a pleasing solution to the problem of poetry books not selling in huge numbers - to make a limited number of beautiful volumes - wonder what Penguin would make of that...

Kick-off for the Poetry Reading Season

2010-09-06T13:38:00.004Z

Tomorrow at Thomas Tosh,Thornhill

Free entry plus coffee and cake

7.30 pm

I'll be reading with JoAnne McKay and Hugh McMillan - all three of us have new books published, for sale.

I've been fascinated for the last couple of years by the process of performing poetry - trying to find different ways to present material that audiences will probably be hearing for a first time, in ways that don't have any element of dumbing down. The shows I've done with Jackie Galley and a group of musicians have probably been the most polished programmes, with carefully planned changes of voice and pace but I've always enjoyed our annual Crichton Writers readings where there may be as many as twelve readers in a performance. (There the choreography is as important as the material) I've done two Poetry Doubles( with Jacob Polley and Jen Hadfield) and learnt a lot about choosing a programme from that. And I've twice read in a foursome, with Jackie, Fiona Russell and Jean Atkin on themed projects and those went down well too. So I'm really looking forward to tomorrow's experience, reading with two accomplished performers as well as writers. With The Wigtown Book Festival coming up it will be excellent practice for all of us......

On Buttock Point

2010-08-26T20:08:00.005Z

Looking south towards the mainland, Bute on the right with its northernmost tip, Buttock Point, and our ferry halfway between Colintraive and Rhubodach - £20 return for a 4-minute crossing ! - photo taken on the road to Tignabruaich

It was hard work but all work should be like this, absorbing and rewarding. We played another Sunday at Edinburgh Castle then drove to Colintraive via Glasgow (the M8 through Glasgow must be the most maniacal road in the UK with the most concealed slip roads on and off, some which filter you in on the fast lane, lots of lane changes and, once you're off it, traffic lights at every junction on the Great Western Road) BUT,once you're past Dumbarton and among those hills and lochs something joyful surfaces (not the Loch Lomond monster) but a sense of rightness with the world. Two days playing at Rothesay Castle and that busy little car ferry each night quickly felt like a routine. Our hotel overlooked the road towards the ferry and we could see the cars racing to time their arrival with the boat on the far side. On Monday (unrelenting rain) we played for and met Fiona Hyslop (SNP Culture Minister) and several Bute dignitaries - and lots of interesting and interested visitors to the castle which, on Tuesday (broken sun) included two Malawian teachers on an educational exchange, who joined in our music making. Supper both nights was very fresh seafood. After work on Tuesday we set off for Kames, just south of Tignabruaich, stopping at the viewing point high above the Kyles to take a photograph of the beautifully named Buttock Point on the north end of Bute. Then on Wednesday(lovely day) the slow drive home across the east side of Loch Fyne (R did have a kipper for breakfast) back over the heights of Rest and Be Thankful and round the base of The Cobbler (my son,Louis, climbed this intimidating rock a while back with a group of London friends) down Loch Long and into Helensburgh where we stopped for a couple of hours at The Hill House. There we shared a spirited exchange on the merits of Rennie Mackintosh as architect and interior designer.....

Publishing mania

2010-08-20T10:45:00.002Z

this might be the cover of our 2010 project

or it might be this.....

Crichton Writers have this year compiled an album of memoirs with photos - we thought it would be good to present it as a photograph album with a spiral binding. Then comes the trouble - what we thought was a simple format proves difficult and/or very expensive for the printers - so we reset the master document in a different programme and try again - then we discover a local printer who can do the job economically - by this time I have masters as pdf files, MS Publisher files and MS Word files in landscape and portrait layouts

and my partner in production is negotiating with the printers - she has endless energy and bright ideas. But, we are very nearly there and will have our album ready for the first reading at The Wigtown Book Festival on Saturday 25th September - midday in The Old Bank Bookshop, and in the Mid-Steeple, Dumfries on Monday 23rd October at 7.00 pm. Most of our members have made contributions to the album and their poems and stories reveal a wide spectrum of backgrounds and experiences as well as some charming images. Here's my piece on my childhood in Malta ;

Prince of Wales Road, Sliema

In the marble hall a slow staircase,

stepping up to the first floor, our door

open most of the time for visitors

my mother hopes for, who never come

to Prince of Wales Road, Sliema.

Theresa, the maid, barefoot and fat,

sweeps the dust from her own feet

straight through the railings,

falling in golden motes like magic,

never reaching the tiled floor.

My summer sleeping space,

up the spiral stair, past the ledge

where mother stores dark blue

‘Surf’ boxes, saving for sundae

dishes, six box tops for one,

to where green lizards cross

the light switches, cool air

from the roof aerates the

rattan bed, fluttering the

butterfly pages of my books.

My brother keeps tadpoles

in the basin, beside the terrace

where the apricot tree pulses.

Tadpoles turn to spotted frogs,

my sister screams, my mother smiles.

In Prince of Wales Road, Sliema,

my mother burns her hands

on a Primus stove, my father

wraps them in lint so gently.

When he tells her off, she cries.

(I'm the middle sized one - with sister,

Frances and brother, Graham)

Sunday jaunt to High Heads, Cumbria

2010-08-15T20:01:00.003Z

one among a veritable forest of thistle heads

The sun was shining this morning so after 'The Archers' we jumped into the car and set off to find High Heads Sculpture Park in Cumbria - cue lots of minor roads, some with signposts, and a winding progress towards Ivegill. My friend, Fiona, had told me about it, partly because her sculptress mum, Elizabeth Waugh, has, some outdoor work there and because she said it was a beautiful place. How right she was - a cross between Monet's garden and the landscape of my woodland childhood awaited us, with dragonflies on the ponds, huge clumps of reed mace, bog-oak carvings and a sapling willow labyrinth to pace. The park flows up and down the sides of a valley so there are paths interlacing, steps too, willow constructiuons, bridges, piers and the suggestion of paths at every turn. There are sculptures everywhere, lots of found pieces and pieces inspired by the land, much of it by local artists. There is also a tea-room that provided very good home-made food in a large and airy space which also serves as an art gallery - more gallery rooms to either side and a local crafts gift shop. Though there are notices that say children must be accompanied (it's because the place is not overwhelmed with safety features) I think they would love the sense of surprise as paths uncurl to reveal new spaces. And it's free !

Monet Pond at High Head

Never mind the grouse, the poetry reading season is about to start

2010-08-13T16:23:00.005Z

not saying which is which.....

Writers can be like cocktails or pizzas - some unfamiliar ingredients can produce a fantastic buzz - so, Hugh McMillan and JoAnne McKay have read together, and JoAnne McKay and I have read together - but on Tuesday 7th September the three of us are reading at a Literary Salon (might be Saloon - who knows with those two?) at the Thomas Tosh Cafe and Art Gallery in Thornhill at 7.30 pm. We all have new poetry books to read from and we may all make you laugh, cry, think and/or pay good money for copies - preferably all of them.

.....and it's not a costume gig either

Some other reading dates you may like to note :

Saturday 25th September 11.00 am. Wigtown Ink Yurt at The Wigtown Book Festival. Vivien Jones and Ann Shukman consider whether it's a good idea to write up another person's memories....

and do drop into Crichton Writers' reading from their 2010 memoirs album, 'I Remember, I Remember', in The Old Bank Bookshop at midday

Saturday 25th September 1.30 pm Wigtown Ink Yurt at The Wigtown Book Festival. Vivien Jones reads from her first poetry collection,'About Time, Too' with Joanne McKay reading from her new illustrated poetry booklet, 'Venti'.

Thursday 30th September. 6.00 pm. County Buildings at The Wigtown Book Festival. Launch of re-vamped Southlight magazine launch, with Jackie Kay.

Wednesday 13th October. 6.00 pm reading at Foyes, Charing Cross Road and presentation of my 2010 Poetry London Prize from Michael Longley.

Friday 22nd October 7.30 pm Carlops Village Centre, near Penicuik in the Borders. A performance of 'Tree' - a collaborative event with poet, Jackie Galley, and musicians Michael Hendry, Rebecca Hendry and Richard Jones - new writing on trees, wood and the forest and a wide spectrum of musical responses.

Saturday 23rd October lunchtime at The Mid-Steeple, Dumfries, another reading from 'About Time, Too',my first poetry collection published by Indigo Dreams Publishing.

On Conviviality

2010-08-07T14:18:00.008Z

Louis' house is smack in the middle of this extraordinary row.

A feature of the last two years has been the social exchange between Richard and I in Powfoot and Louis (younger son) and Jeanie (his lady) who has taken to home cooking in the spacious and well equipped kitchen at Louis' house, a mile away. Their lives in London in well-paid professions have allowed them to explore some of the choicer restaurants there but they are keen on locating sources of high quality food and drink here so they can use their Scottish kitchen well. So far they've discovered a source of organic meat and the superb fish and game shop in Dumfries. On this visit Jeanie had ordered a complete Sushi banquet online. They had taken a sushi cooking course in London and Jeanie wanted to try her hand at various techniques and presentations, assisted by Louis.The tray of food looked fantastic.

Louis and Jeanie with tray of sushi

Sushi in detail

Part of the kit was a dish of flying-fish eggs, bright jelly orange and sparkling, with a delicate saltiness that was perfect with the seaweed. The fish were tuna,salmon, pickled mackerel and eel, sliced to slivers with the special knife I gave them at Christmas. Cups of green tea with roasted rice grains an ideal compliment, and a bowl of miso alongside the sushimi, sticky rice the only filling element of what we ate. Lots of sliced avocado,crab sticks and cucumber, proper soy sauce, Japanese mayonnaise and pretty pink ginger slices.

Tamago : Japanese egg roll

The return match was tonight - whole sea bream with root ginger and lemon,and buttered grains with green vegetables. Cheeses - Colston Basset Stilton, Black Bomber Cheddar and Cambozola with grainy crackers. Jeanie brought an apres dessert treat - in Celtic colours - bright green jelly flavoured with pandan leaves and coconut topping, a great palette cleanser. Jeanie has also been wine-tasting (though she doesn't drink herself) and brought a lovely white wine for the fish. Fish bones have been neatly licked clean by Axa. At the moment of writing this we are all in repose watching ' Have I Got News for You'.

If there's an element of competition in all this it's completely benign - I love Jeanie's exploration of her own cooking skills and it's great for me to be cooked for (we have five family visitors next week so supper for seven to cook each night !) She's Malaysian so her repertoire is very different from mine . I think we enjoy each others cooking.

'proper' soy sauce is the only soy sauce my Japanese daughter in law , Hisae, will use in Britain - Kikkomans, in its beautifully designed container. Not often available in local supermarkets at the moment but you can buy it online.

summer of music

2010-08-04T21:13:00.003Z

Netherurd musicians play six of Richard's bass viols

on 'Di Sei Bassi' by Ferrabosco I

We've taken the viols to three early music courses since June - at Netherurd House in the Scottish Borders, Ambleside in Cumbria and in Durham, just yesterday. It is always exciting to discover new music with new musicians and all three courses provide their own special delights. Quite often we just take any spare part in the consorts, Richard tells people all about making Venetian viols and I organise the music. At Ambleside there is a very strong body of singers who delight in singing with the viols, Norvis(Durham) provides some very good young players - lifeblood for the future - and Netherurd is special for the experience of being tutored by Alison Crum, Philip Thorby and Roy Marks - in the company of most of Scotland's viol players. At all three courses musicians play from morning until evening right through the week, often right through their afternoon breaks, drinking up the ambience and conviviality and the pleasures of music making. Quite common to see red-eyed, yawning musicians looking for yet another group to play with. I love it - most of all because you can't be aggressive when you're playing early music - it only works when you're relaxed and gentle, coaxing the sound from the strings.

This weekend we're off to play in Edinburgh Castle again - then in a fortnight to Glasgow for what has become an annual trip to the university music library to find new music for our new autumn programme.

Will this do, mum ?

2010-08-02T19:51:00.003Z

Mum,on a beach in Malta

c 1954

My mum and I had a difficult, unresolved relationship. This year I have been trying to recapture the deep love I felt for her in my childhood by writing about the many complexities of her character. She was uneducated in a formal sense and would have been fiercely proud of my MA Hons from Glasgow University - in trawling through my memory I realised that there were more parallels in our personalities than I would like to admit. So far I have six poems on paper, one of which is called 'My Mother's Literature'.

Last week I took a phone call from poet, Colette Bryce, to tell me that 'My Mother's Literature' has won the 2010 Poetry London Competition - and that it will be published in the autumn edition of the magazine, I will read it at the launch and award event on Wednesday 13th October at Foyles in Charing Cross Road,and receive a cheque for £1000 from Michael Longley. In the meantime it will remain unposted and unpublished, but here's another poem about her.

Prince of Wales Road, Sliema

In the marble hall a slow staircase,

stepping up to the first floor, our door
open most of the time for visitors
my mother hoped for, who never came
to Prince of Wales Road, Sliema.

Instead, the maid, barefoot and fat,
sweeping the dust from her own feet
straight through the railings,
falling in golden motes like magic,
never reaching the tiled floor.

My summer sleeping space,
up the spiral stair, past the ledge
where mother stored dark blue
‘Surf’ boxes, saving for sundae
dishes, six box tops for one,

to where green lizards cross
the light switches, cool air
from the roof aerates the
rattan bed, fluttering the
butterfly pages of my books.

My brother keeps tadpoles
in the basin, beside the terrace
where the apricot tree pulses.
Tadpoles turn to spotted frogs,
my sister screams, my mother smiles.

In Prince of Wales Road, Sliema,
my mother burnt her hands
on a Primus stove, my father
wrapped them in lint so gently.
When he told her off,she cried.

from Crichton Writers 2010 Memoirs Album
'I Remember, I Remember.....'

me - a film star ?

2010-07-26T15:59:00.005Z

Rocio, Stefanie and Vivien on Victoria Street,

Edinburgh

On Sunday,Rocio von Jungenfeld, textile artist, Stefanie Tan, filmaker, (both PhD art students) and I met up in Victoria Street, Edinburgh, to make a short film around Rocio's response to my poem, Mellis, which is part of
'this collection'. The film, all two minutes of it, will be part of a show at The Fringe in August and will feature Rocio's responses to five of the 100 poems about places in Edinburgh and their postcodes. R in attendance as Sound Man. R & I had just done a day's playing in Edinburgh Castle which was as good as it gets for renaissance musicians. We met in the bar opposite Mellis, the Cheese Shop (R and I had slipped in earlier and bought a piece of oozing Gorgonzola -perfect) and introduced ourselves, had a half pint and in no time, having discovered various common interests, were climbing the stairs to the balcony above Mellis where Rocio planned to work. So we talked, I played, she starting weaving among the railings, I read, we talked some more, she continued to weave. Stefanie filmed and took stills, R. recorded. At one point Rocio had made a kind of cat's cradle round my viol strings which made it play some very high harmonics. We talked about the differences and similarities of music, poetry and weaving, about art education, art hierarchies and lots more. I loved their enthusiasm and look forward to seeing the film. R and I slipped away for supper at Kalpna - the best veggie eating in Edinburgh - and talked on and on about our fabulous day......

me in civvies, tuning up in the Great Hall,

Edinburgh Castle

Mellis, Cheese Shop,

Victoria Street, Edinburgh

It was Edinburgh Siberia cold,

that east-born razor wind slicing,

piercing through my clothes,

and I, a Mellis virgin, the day

I entered the pungent chill cave.

Good shops are warm, welcoming,

carefully lit, loosening the purse strings

with smiles and well-informed wiles.

This space was dark, cold; the assistant

awed by her pedigree stock, silent.

Yellow on yellow, primrose to new moon,

gorse to peace rose, orange to buttercup,

marble hard, soap soft, varicosed, aerated.

A gallery, a museum, an aromatic temple of cheese,

and I, looking for a lump of toasting cheddar.

Axa the Invincible !

2010-07-20T19:43:00.002Z

You know that thing about cats and water - Axa shows every sign of loving being out in the rain (and snow) and once came back home completely soaked from her tail up to her shoulders - looked like she'd been swimming in the burn. This picture was taken this afternoon.

We were remembering Sumi this week - it's two years since Axa came and made herself so at home here, but Sumi was our first cat......

Being Sumi

In the woods my softness silences my passage. Hind paws touch where front paws were, three points of contact with a surface at all times. Up trees, which I love, the grip of claws and spasm of muscle propel me to safety. I tremble at the nearness of birds beneath me. I can cuff the birds from the air ; what are they but weightless feather shells, two bursting heartbeats and a dulling eye ? I can slice mice after I’ve bruised and broken them enough to prevent overmuch wriggling. Butterflies crackle briefly in my dainty jaws and tickle in the throat. This is my imperative.
In the house I sprawl in any soft or dark or quiet place. I sleep in several ways. There is my napping way, eyes never sealed, ears scanning and a readiness to flare my eyes at the smallest sound or movement. This is for when they are present or likely to be for they are drawn to my softness and cannot pass me without stroking me. If I have found a soft, empty place I can make my circle, head to tail, head on paws, and shut my eyes and only gently listen. This is near to sleep. Sometimes, from here, there is a slow melting into an upside-down abandon in which my belly softness is uppermost, my paws extended, tail draped over the edge. If they approach with their small entreating sounds they can smooth my belly without awakening more than a deep vibration. In this state I fear I would not sense a dog’s approach, though dogs are not subtle.

I wonder about dogs. With their obsequious wagging backsides and pointless noise and thrashing, how do they feed in the wood? I plan a badness to show my distain for the racket of the dogs down the row. They, a pair of large dogs with foolish, eager eyes and flapping ears, want my fur in their teeth. I shall leap up to their window-sill, my tail perfectly vertical, my stiffened ears erect and walk slowly from one side to the other, not even looking towards their frantic leapings and scratchings on the window. They will salivate like mad creatures, crazed with hunting fever. I trust the glass. I may lick myself in congratulation.

There are few dogs in the night and those that do appear are the un-petted ones that know the night boundaries. A cat, however small, swallows the night through the eyes and perceives all spaces. I am, therefore, equal to owls and bats in navigation and therefore hunting, which is the purpose of night. Dogs abuse the night. They merely meander, sniffing and shitting, making noise as if without instinct. Dogs trade their instinct for a fireside and a meal bowl. I get both without loss of magnificence.

In the night there was a meeting with an owl once. I was in stillness, scanning a mouse’s movement, waiting for a sight of its progress through the grass, when I was alerted by an air movement too late and too fast for the small eating birds. As white as me, but from above, came a soundless fury, and several scimitar points as bright as my own raked my back. I listened to my skin for harm, felt the warning sting of several scratches but no heavy heart-beat to tell me to lie still and wait to die. I slid and hid my whiteness under a fallen trunk and watched. The owl came back, this time calling in its ugly voice, and settled in the tree above me. We battled out the silence; the owl less careful than me for I heard when he shifted his claws on the branch. I moved no part of me except for small flexings of my claws which just happened, but in silence. The owl did not sit long. This wood is full of things to hunt and eat, easier to kill than me (if not so pleasurable) and the owl must survive his encounters. Our claws are equal, our jaws are different, but equal. No gain for either in an equal fight. The owl and I choose to hunt creatures already vanquished by their panic.

I waited to die in another place. Before here there was a hard place with loud and sharp, unscented cars that were in constant flight. It was night but no proper night. Darkness tried to cover this place but light was there too. The cars had gone to rest and I hunted in the grass places where sometimes other cats growled, spat and sprayed. I crept low. From a gateway a hissing male raised his back fur at me in a territorial arch; obligingly, I fled onto the hard place blind to the car so close to me, then on top of me in a fear-filled racket of disintegration. My leg lay down and then I waited to die. When the light came two crows and a seagull came too. The shining curious crows loped towards me, cocking their heads to see if I was hunted down, but keeping out of claws’ reach. The seagull squawked its interest from a wall by the grass place. It already had blood under its salty jaw. The crows were sniffing my blood when, suddenly, all three birds flew off as voices sounded and feet came close as they approached to look at my death. Then came a time in a smelling place, near death but not death, and there were thin, hurt cat voices around me and a warning hurt in my leg and fur gone from the licking places. There was sleep. There was waking and weakness, many entreating noises and stroking and then there was licking time again.

Fire is comfort and runaway fear. Inside there is small fire that melts my carcase into chair contours, a rush of warmth that induces sleep and belly up stretching. It spits or crackles but it does not advance. Outside, once, it grew and hurled itself into the dark, showering the night with wild flowers of burning, exploding sudden shouts of challenge. Raindrops that were not rain fell on me and seared my ears. I bolted under a shed where I suddenly smelt other cats, but the smell of fear wiped out our instinct for scratching order, and we sat quietly apart until the fire glow and noise was gone.

A Great House and a Great Castle

2010-07-11T21:11:00.000Z

Just back from a weekend making music - Saturday at Provand's Lordship in Glasgow for their Family Day - our job to inhabit the house and fill it with music - our remit is to play for a rolling audience but on Saturday they just kept on rolling so we played and talked to people pretty much from 10.30 am to 4.00 pm with a sandwich break in the middle.
Lots of international visitors, lots of children, and much good natured participation. A perfect setting for the scale of the instruments we play - giving meaning to the term 'chamber music'.

Sunday at Edinburgh Castle in the Great Hall on a very windy day in Scotland's windy city - lovely welcoming staff at the Castle make everything as easy as possible from parking the car under the huge stand erected for the Tattoo to setting up our instruments in that wonderful hall. I had my new highly strung (not literally) recorder and it's terrifying to play out into that huge space but bless it, supported by R's renaissance guitar chords, it filled the space and we played our programmes through with confidence - good to have those striking shawms at work again too along with the viols and crumhorns and all the sizes of recorders that we had taken with us. Our new boss at Historic Scotland turned up to see us and was well pleased. Great participation too - and lots of laughter. It really is the most beautiful place to play renaissance music in.

About Time,Too

2010-07-06T19:16:00.005Z

A Real Stop Press Moment.......

any gardeners out there spot the gentle play on words ?

I'm delighted to say that my first poetry collection -'About Time, Too'- will be published on August 1st by Indigo Dreams Publishing - if you'd like a preview go to http://www.indigodreams.co.uk/ click on 'Bookshop' - 'Authors' - 'Vivien Jones' for some extracts, some extremely generous endorsements and probably more background than you thought you had on me.......

DGA (note they're dropping the 'association') will host a launch in due course and we'll have some kind of presence at the Wigtown Book Festival - I was hoping that I might organise another session with the publishers for Crichton Writers, but my publishers can't get away at this time of year. However, I know their advice would be keep drafting, keep submitting and never give up hope - that's why my collection is called 'About Time,Too'.

More music......

2010-07-05T17:46:00.002Z

these are the players but these were both plain clothes performances....

On Sunday we played in Blackwells Bookshop in Edinburgh - one of the department heads is an early musician and she's organised some Sunday afternoon promenade concerts - not quite a promenade since everyone took a seat and stayed the whole 45 minutes - a good place to play if you ignored the sudden torrential rain storm outside and the couple of ambulance/fire engines blaring past - Edinburgh crowds are always receptive and an Edinburgh crowd in a bookshop, doubly so.( I'm returning to Edinburgh in August to collaborate with a performance artist, Rocio von Jungenfeld, who is going to do some weaving around my Victoria Street poem, 'Mellis'.....)

Mellis, Cheese Shop,

Victoria Street, Edinburgh

It was Edinburgh Siberia cold,

that east-born razor wind slicing,

piercing through my clothes,

and I, a Mellis virgin, that day

I entered the pungent chill cave.

Good shops are warm, welcoming,

carefully lit, loosening the purse strings

with smiles and well-informed wiles.

The space was dark, cold; the assistant

awed by her pedigreed stock, silent.

Yellow on yellow, primrose to new moon,

gorse to peace rose, orange to buttercup,

marble hard, soap soft, varicosed, aerated.

A gallery, a museum, an aromatic temple of cheese,

and I, looking for a lump of toasting cheddar.

Then, today, we gave a lunchtime concert in The Carlisle Festival at St Cuthbert's Church which was ace - 100 + in the audience - and everything went very well until about three pieces before the end I started to note the flickering in my peripheral vision that precedes a migraine and means I HAVE to take a couple of pink Migraleve pills - nothing for it but to steal away to the dressing room while R was talking to the audience and stuff a couple - good job I knew the next two pieces quite well because the pills only started to take effect then. Still we made it through - some lovely singing from Adriana, the viols were tight and in tune and Laurence's lute added to a harmonious whole. The concert poster said we were there 'by popular demand' - but I don't know who demanded us. More music next weekend - Provand's Lordship in Glasgow and Edinburgh Castle but that's just R and me.

One for Marlene

2010-06-28T16:04:00.002Z

Marlene's beloved g-tenor viol made by Richard Jones

A big music weekend - R had been invited to speak at a symposium on The Tudor Viol in Huddersfield University so we stayed over with old friends who were inspirational to R when he was first making early instruments, and played the afternoon, evening and following morning away. After the symposium we headed cross-country to Durham - via Keighley, Ilkley and Harrogate - to meet the viol players we had planned a weekend's playing with - sadly without Marlene Austin, who had died the previous week. Not an unexpected death - Marlene had terminal cancer and knew her time left was short - but she filled her last year with as much playing as possible.The last time we saw her was at Netherurd House at Renaissance Viols Day on June 5th. She was sitting on a bench in the sun calmly planning with R what might happen to her viol after her death. So there was a Marlene shaped space where she should have been over the weekend. We four played our best to remember Marlene, knowing how much she would have loved the sounds, some of them played on the viol that R made for her and which she loved.

Survivors on the shore......

2010-06-19T11:47:00.002Z

survivor lupins ?

Further to yesterday's shore walk I went to see how the lupins are doing - as you can see - very well. Over the years people here have deposited garden waste by the shore so that, as well as the natural flora, there are clumps of garden flowers, an apple tree, a privet bush (unclipped and very elegant) and these small lupins, all of which have survived being dumped. It's very yellow along the shore just now with broom, gorse and lupins all in flower. Just acquired a new camera - digital but behaves just like an SLR - which is superb but has so many buttons and settings it will take me a long time to work out exactly how to use it - fortunately it has an automatic setting until I feel a bit more adventurous. Thinking about enjoying new technology I'm working at the moment on the cover design for my poetry collection, I've been exchanging digital files with the publisher by e-mail - since the first files we sent were at too low a resolution for printing we could take the photo again and five minutes later, send it to him, re-sized and with text added. It's not that long ago that we would have had to do that with film and Letraset by post. Wonderful !

Hot, hot ,hot......!

2010-06-17T20:32:00.020Z

Axa under the bay tree

Axa, of course, can't strip off but spends the warm weather in cool shadows - this week's favourite spot has been at the base of our bay tree. We went for a pre-lunch walk on the shore with our friend, Jackie, who is an ecologist and makes any walk an education. The ground underfoot, the plants, the clouds and the birds all come under her careful scrutiny. R and I went out later for another stroll, this time with camera, and were mesmerised by a man with a stunt kite and a snow-board (?) using sailing skills to work his way down the shoreline, pulled at great speed by the kite.

R's younger brother, Andrew, was part of the design team that created the Flexifoil in the 1960s, so kite spotting has a certain weight in our house !

water sport at Powfoot

Walking the Sky

This fresh summer day
I walked along the land’s edge,
along a sandscape planed flat
by a prevailing wind
prevailing on the sand
to lie level as the sea,
the tide so low, so distant,
that flatfish left their imprints
in the rarely seen sandbanks.

A breeze, uninterrupted,
flying across the Irish Sea
tasting of salt in my mouth,
smelling of sea and iodine,
stinging my legs with grit,
making my eyes stream,
made me look up to clear my eyes.
There, like a rumpled sheet of silk
in weights of blue and ivory,

the sky made a scape to
match the land’s – its contours
woven into mackerel stripes
and ice cream ripples – bird
flight embroidered the air,
a heron’s stalling flight
made the gulls seem hawk-svelte,
as they sank to the western edge
where sky and sand met invisibly.

I walked on until the despairing sun,
just dropping into the sea,
threw its colour to the sky,
sponged up by clouds,
passed ever eastwards,
until the sky was prawns
and peaches all over,
and I was glum to be alone,
walking this ecstatic sky.

Netherurd House in The Borders

2010-06-07T17:27:00.009Z

Netherurd House

Viol players have long gathered for an annual residential course in Scotland with Alison Crum and Philip Thorby (joined by Roy Marks on lute and viol) all three of The Rose Consort and Musica Antiqua of London fame - which used to happen at Wedderburn, near Duns, but which for the past few years has happened at Netherurd House, near Broughton in the Borders. Players come from Scotland, England, Holland, Italy and France to do what viols do best - play music mostly from the 15th -17th century in consort (which means a group like a singing group with soprano, alto, tenor and bass voices ) Saturday was 'renaissance viols' day when Richard and I were invited to take our six viols and our music to share with the company.

two of those deep A-basses

These days quite a few of the Netherurd players have a Richard Jones viol so at one point there were four groups of five/six players all making music on matched sets of his viols. The tutors draw up groups of players who stay together all morning - choosing music they wish to play and discovering music they may not know from a huge selection provided by the organisers. In the evening there was an impromptu concert by participants. Richard has been harbouring a yearning to hear a piece for six basses by Ferrabosco -Da Siei Bassi - on six of his A-Basses - we were nearly there on Saturday night when the participants used three A-Basses and three d-basses to play the piece in its deep sonority - rattling the chandeliers as they went. This was followed by a slightly more formal recital by the tutors of music from the Henry VIII manuscript - which showed how rich in repertoire this tiny manuscript is - some beautiful playing, this time on the Costa viols with Roy sometimes playing his lute.

It's such a rewarding activity to play music in small groups - its all one to a part so very democratic (no divas required) and everyone plays at their own level or slightly beyond. Walking about the building the sounds issuing from the playing spaces are just heavenly - Philip spoke at length to the group I was in about the capacity of these instruments to speak across a huge dynamic range - we practised drawing an unearthly tone from our instruments by playing far from the bridge - it sounded like angels whispering at times.

We are so privileged to have these teachers among us - to be brilliant players is one thing but to be able to coax the best out of players who may not consider themselves very accomplished is a very fine thing.

Glasgowesque

2010-05-31T13:56:00.001Z

Adriana, Vivien, Vickie and Richard

at the Kelvingrove Museum & Art Gallery

I can't imagine that there are many people who haven't been to Scotland's Tardis - the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery - where getting happily disorientated is mandatory and leads to chance discoveries of galleries and collections never before encountered. The passages and stairways are Escheresque. On Sunday we were doubly confused by being allowed on the back stairs too - we were there to play 16th century music among the renaissance paintings so had to transport instruments and equipment in a lift which opens on both sides and travels into the staff quarters (though you cannot get out without a guide or an electronic pass card - that must be Kafkaesque but not as downright James Bondesque as the arrangements at The Burrell Collection, where disembodied voices direct your movement between metal grilles). Anyhow, we had a great time, the ensemble playing was tight and sweet and Adriana sang like a nightingale. We had included some of the new material we have in our lunchtime concert in the Carlisle Festival on July 5th (St Cuthbert's Church) and that worked very well, particularly Verdelot's lovely madrigal 'Con Lagrime e Sospir' which I have longed to do with three viols and voice, and some cheeky frottole which we have arranged for bass viol,lute,guitar, recorder and voice (though our lute player wasn't with us on Sunday) as in the picture. Come to think of it, we've done a lot of arranging in the last couple of years - much quicker now that we have Sibelius software (though it gets a bit shirty about the frequent tempo changes in renaissance music) but for transposing music - it's instantaneous !

I love visiting Glasgow - its suicidal road system (especially the flyover that never got finished and stops in mid-air and the Junction 17 slip-road onto the M8 that requires you join in the fast lane) and the crazy grandeur of its Victorian architecture as at Kelvingrove. We are back on 10th July to play all day at Provand's Lordship (Glasgow's oldest house) for their Family Day.

Kelvingrove, Glasgow

We had to go – years of sighing

over illustrations in design books

made it imperative – we had to look.

Who dared say it first?

You were full of well-tutored

respect for established opinion

but you also knew the making craft,

the strength of joints, the angles

that support the human spine.

‘Those chairs’- I whispered,

intimidated by the museum hush -

‘they don’t look very comfortable’,

thinking of those Glasgow matrons

taking tea and gossip together

in rival tea rooms, undomesticated

in fur jackets, heels and gloves,

You smiled, relishing your own

affection for a making tradition

so like your Cotswold heroes.

Never mind the Rennie-Mackintosh,

the cutlery made you weep.

The Goose Girls Do Well !

2010-05-25T16:27:00.010Z

cover graphic by John Threlfall

A very warm review by Hugh Macmillan in Markings 30 of 'Goosechase', the chapbook that fellow poets, Jean Atkin, Jackie Galley, Fiona Russell and I created in 2009 for RSPB Mersehead and WWT Caerlaverock to celebrate The Wild Goose Chase in Dumfries and Galloway.

The four writers read from Goosechase at Thomas Tosh Cafe & Art Gallery, Thornhill, at the 2010 D&G Wildlife Festival in April, where we drank delicious coffee, ate buttery shortbread and sold a few books.

Jean, Vivien, Fiona and Jackie

Here's a sample from each of us :

Wild Goose Chase

It had become a quest.

Guided by hints and signs,

people met at junctions

gave vague assurances.

A single track road

(not much wider

than a white line),

brambles testing the strength

of the tarmac,

the confidence that cars

rarely venture this far.

And I find

that they’re experts,

these geese,

in using the land,

finding rolls of moraine

to hide behind.

There are long sight-lines

to hills that halt the clouds.

But near-by

carefully arranged fans of rushes

push fallen stones

from dykes

into bird-shapes.

I know they are here.

White-fronted.

Should be easy

to spot.

And the murmur of hidden geese

sounds almost like laughter.

JG.

Night geese

Hear them

on the east wind

of a fallen dusk.

They babble,

yap at each other.

I feel bitten

by the razor wind

as they move above,

talking of cold

rasping through flight feathers,

of crossing swaying seas

to the cross-stitched

hills of Scotland.

The solitude I feel

in that space

between me and them

is where time moves backwards.

FJR

Chorus Lines

Caerlaverock

Barnacles in black stockings,

Bewicks minus mascara,

Mutes in white flounces,

dancing in on splayed kite feet,

Mallards roughing up the girls

while the wigeons whistle,

Here come the noisy ones,

In dull dun plumage but,

Oh boy,

in pink shoes and lipstick

anser brachyrhynchus

steal the show.

VJ.

February Merse Poem

Water-drawn, like so much else,
you cut your engine to long quiet of merse
pick up first distant yammer of the geese.

Starlings tail you in a flitting rain
in-out some wind-cut straggled hedge line.
Curlews mapping the grey-green lane.

Scots pine, wind-blasted, twisted, holds
the side-slide, dip-glide dark of crows.
You see down daylight stillness, bentgrass mouseholes.

You know out there is sea, its low roar ceaseless;
know in the mud, spring shrilling, gorse flowers, geese.

JA.

If anyone would like a copy, until we have arranged a distribution point, you can send me a cheque for £4.50 for book plus p & p and I'll send you a copy.

Make cheque out and send to :

Vivien Jones

5,Lakeview

Powfoot

DG12 5PG

Dumfries and Galloway

Scotland

So Much Poetry......and music

2010-05-21T20:49:00.006Z

I have ten poems on the Poetry Kit's Caught In the Net showcase this month

http://www.poetrykit.org/pkl/CITN/caughtin.htm

mine is number 56 so you might have to wait a bit for it be archived, unless you're a subscriber, better still a contributer. Looking over The Poetry Kit's website there's so much good poetry out there and so many outlets for it - I came across a call for poems for a Transparent Words Special which linked to images of makers' marks on artefacts (you can see mine below which is in the collection) but very soon the e-magazine will be online and you can see all of them. The Poetry Kit also produces an excellent e-bulletin each month with all sorts of writing opportunities from most of major players in UK publishing and beyond. It's where I heard about Indigo Dreams Press who will publish my first collection of poems - About Time too - in autumn 2010.

Whitehaven Harbour wall

Staking a Claim

In slate quarries, on pyramids,
on harbour walls,
where the stones squeeze the air,
no need of mortar where
the fit is kin to kin, a blade
might enter between, pierce
the perfect join as if to say,
‘Only God is perfect’,

But the incision, the mark
of the mason, says,
anonymously, modestly,
‘I ,too, took part.’

...........................

Most of today was spent with Richard and Laurence (our lute player) preparing music for our concert in the Carlisle Music Festival in July - today we worked on various ensemble pieces with the viols and the lute - it always amazes me that no matter how far you think you've taken a piece, the next time you play it you discover more places where you can place notes, or trim notes, fade notes, use a faster bow, bow like a plucker.....and so it goes. The technical difficulties of the recorder pieces we will play are various - R playing a cantus firmus so needs a huge amount of breath control on the basset (not the dog) while Laurence and I dance around in rapid decorated parts, trying to make sense of our two parts against R's 'tune'. On Sunday Adriana, our singer and Vickie, our other viol player will join us for a full rehearsal - we have some exquisite madrigals and chansons to work at.....looking forward to that.

probably a good job this one isn't a costumed performance.

Nature and Picasso

2010-05-18T20:26:00.001Z

gorse; ageless design

A couple of programmes, one infantile the other interesting, on BBC 4 about Picasso send me back to my art books and remind me how ambivalent I felt about the painting known as Les Demoiselles d'Avignon (Picasso was more frank - he called it The Brothel) when I first encountered it as a young woman, sensing the imminence of feminism and how it would endorse what I felt about the life I needed to lead. I loved/feared the painting in equal measure - I felt it was a portrait of fear of women, usually expressed as hatred of women, which was how a lot of men reacted to early manifestations of feminism in their womenfolk. But I knew it was telling a truth. These days, when faux feminism with its power suits, stilettos and botox pretends to represent something healthy for women, the painting has an honesty, a directness that is raw and fresh - far from being a throwback, it's still calling........

Cat Psychology

2010-05-14T20:28:00.009Z

Axa this afternoon

Anyone have any idea why our cats should wish to curl up in a box full of viol bridges, too small for their bodies and snooze the afternoon away in the workshop ? I wonder if it's the smell of the sycamore bridges but why lie on top of a pile of them ? Axa does have a habit of choosing rather odd sleeping spaces - in the bath on a towel, under the bathroom sink half in- half out of a basket of soaps, in the rafters of the workshop......

Sumi, about two years ago

From a distance we thought this was plastic bag flapping on the wall by the stream.......

and another mention of the amazing heron.....

The Mystery Of Creatures

Where was that butterfly bound
that fluttered across a mile of sand,
straight out to sea ?

Where, at low water, at the sea’s frill,
were the fish who left
their shapes, like plaster casts
in the soaking sand ?

Where did the herons fly, wing touching wave,
with beats as slow as windmill blades ?

The Amazing Heron

2010-05-10T20:20:00.005Z

on the Caul of the Nith

We see herons very often - there's a communal nesting site on the marsh ground at the approach to Annan where you can usually see several amongst the reeds. They gather with the receding tide here on the beach at Powfoot, standing about five metres apart,ready to spear anything interesting. Their flight is a wonder - such a slow wingbeat for such a large bird - they're a bit like those elderly stringbag aeroplanes you see at air-shows attempting loops. They look as if they're going to stall any minute and yet they don't; they just fly along just the water's edge to their next pitch.

Low Flying up the Solway

A heron, three shades of grey,

gothic arches under its wings,
flaps so slowly, tickles the waves,
uncurls its neck, drops its legs,
takes three dainty steps,
freezes to hunt.

Out of the boiling sunset,
roaring a warning,
a jet, practicing at war,
flattens each life form.
Three shades of grey,
tilting triangular wings,
streamlined to hunt.

Let's hear it for the cats.......

2010-05-05T15:26:00.014Z

Richard was doing things in the house which necessitated lifting floorboards above the void under the house - as with gardening, within minutes of work starting Axa was down the hole scouting out a new territory. I'm not really an animal person but two cats in two years have made a permanent imprint on my life. It's nearly two years since Sumi died - she was my son's cat and when he went to USA to teach football each summer, she came to stay with us.

Sumi

White, a pirate patch worn high

on her brow, an ink-dipped tail

carried vertically, she followed

us across a stony beach, into the woods,

onto the night-time golf course,

to some secret satisfaction.

She shrank away, some wasting thing

that ate her flesh but left the love

of walking so, two days from death,

she padded slowly with us

to the white spot on the road

that was our turning point.

Still, eleven years did not allow

us to comprehend her soul.

She never sat on a lap

but stretched, ecstatic,
beside the fire, for stroking,
a white arc of bliss.

This post especially dedicated to Titus and Wigeon
(not so much a duck, more a dog)

The Moon and The Mermaids

2010-05-01T11:22:00.001Z

You could almost hear the imaginations clicking onto targets. When willing writers gather and throw themselves into unexpected tasks the very air becomes charged with something vibrant - it seemed like minutes later that haiku, poems, legends made from science reports and 21st century mermaids and moon deities were on the table. We were surprised at ourselves. As workshop leader, I take no credit at all beyond having supplied some graphic and textual articles - lit the blue touch paper perhaps, but the resulting fireworks were entirely the writers' own. These days, when everything has to be evaluated, I'm pleased to say that I have failed utterly to identify the chemistry - perhaps it was the setting, the civilised surroundings of The Swan at Kingholm Quay, the coffee and biscuits, the box of turquoise biros, the blinding white writing pads crying out 'write on me'. Whatever it was it's my hope that some of the material will be developed into work for performance or publication. I'll keep you posted.

Update on Spring at Powfoot II

2010-04-28T19:54:00.006Z

Raging Yellow

In April,
blazing gorse spreads
clouds of coconut scent,
spiking the eye with
raging yellow.

Delirious bees hang heavy
in its airspace,
legs pollen powdered,
ready for the drop.

Not milk-lemon yellow

like a primrose,

Not point-petalled yellow

like the celandine,

Not sun radiant yellow

like the dandelion,

but primal yellow,

a deep bass note,

sounding in the eyes.

No sweet field flower,

no Spring bouquet,

no flower arranger’s joy,

Gorse is a feast.

a binge, a prick

of a shrub.

Richard wanted a photo of me with the gorse bushes, a rather prickly experience since I had to stand very close - the coconut haze around them is quite intoxicating at this time of year. Soon they'll be buzzing with yellow-hammers - even more yellow.

Update on Spring

2010-04-27T19:42:00.007Z

maple in flower ; Powfoot

What a difference one warm day makes - we could have collected tissue beech leaves for our salad from the woods today but star of the show were the maple flowers and leaves, glistening like new butterflies.

I have two writing workshops to conduct over the next week - one for The Tide Machine which happens on the midday and midnight tides on Wednesday 28th at Kingholm Quay - but, please note if you thought of coming, my workshop is from 10.00am - 12.00 midday on Thursday 29th at The Swan pub - and will focus on tides as metaphor and imaginery water creatures. The other is for the Dumfries and Galloway Science Festival at the Crichton Campus, Dumfries on May 8th- subject : Onomatopoeia : Sound into Words, with help from some unusual musical instruments. I love putting these workshops together - wizzing around the net for stimulus, searching my books for sample poems and pictures, finding ways to make words new. I'm always humbled at what people produce - over the years with Crichton Writers I have come to believe that anyone can write expressively once they believe they can - so my job is to stress what a natural activity writing is and to encourage people to step beyond what they think they can do. It's what happened to me, after all - going to university aged 52 (my grown up sons had said 'Don't you think it's about time ?) and writing again for myself for the first time since my twenties. I remember so clearly the thrill of finding I still had things to say and I wanted to say them well.

Puzzled Spring at Powfoot

2010-04-26T20:01:00.005Z

Beech trees on our daily walk

On our afternoon constitutional around The Lakes (there are no lakes, just a small silted stream picking its way through what were the lake beds when the scheme was first landscaped) this strange on-off Spring is in evidence in trees flowering and leafing unevenly, as if they're not quite confident that it is finally Spring. The secret primrose bank is in full flower but there are only a few bluebells to be seen. The wild cherry branches are speckled in white, the chestnuts are splaying bright green hands but not a sign of new life in the oaks and ash.

Axa (our cat) has caught on that our constitutional is a circuit so she has twice come to the knarled silver birch on the out-way, scampered down to the edge and crossed the river on an overhanging willow branch, rejoining us with a chirrup on the in-way. Suppose she thinks that's clever. Watching her in trees is a delight - she's athletic and fearless, comes down head-first or by dropping from branch to branch.

Axa - say'Asha' - it's medieval Spanish/Moorish

Music & Writing - no contest

2010-04-25T10:46:00.009Z

Saturday in Edinburgh - at the Barclay Viewforth Church Centre right beside the sun-bathers on The Meadows - about thirty early musicians gathered to spend the day singing and playing together on renaissance recorders and viols. The Barclay is a labyrinthine building including the Byzantine-style church and it was just thrilling to walk between the playing spaces and listen to the music being made, often by people who had never played together before. The Early Music Forum of Scotland is fortunate indeed to have members talented and generous enough to lead such explorations, to lend instruments and prepare music. I don't understand why early music - much of which is so accessible and democratic (no divas required - usually the part writing is equal) is not taught in schools. Even the much despised school recorder can sound lovely playing the music written for it.....I've led groups of teenagers more than happy to play recorders when the result is so quickly tuneful.

a few of our number in the field.....

Good session with Crichton Writers this week - our current writing project is a memoirs project which will result in a printed book and readings in the autumn - with most of our members well past 30 we have a great diversity of stories to explore. At the moment we are looking at ways of telling our stories, exploring the pitfalls including the ethical ones of writing about our near relatives, experimenting with voice and viewpoint. Humour, and occasionally tears, abound. I love working in these group projects - although I have had various memoir pieces published there's no sense of hierarchy as we work - I have been directing this project but once started, the writers need little urging. Otherwise, I'm preparing the creative writing session which is part of The Tide Machine (which will happen at The Swan at Kingholm Quay on Thursday 29th April) and another, 'Sound into Words' for The Science Festival on May 8th.

What's lovely about working in these two very distinct disciplines is, far from competing for time and energy, how much they feed each other creatively. I do feel fortunate indeed to have these two threads in my life.

Viols - one extreme to another

2010-04-23T10:25:00.002Z

Last weekend to Carlops (near Edinburgh) for a viol-playing session under the direction of Bill Hunt (Fretwork), one of the professionals that we have lessons with from time to time - providing much challenge and encouragement. We had prepared a stunning madrigal by Costanzo Festa - a Venetian musician who was composing around the time the Linarol viols were in use - in four parts (other parts played my Murray and Patsy Campbell of The Edinburgh Renaissance Band). These sessions are always intense - it takes a while to get four instruments with 6 gut strings perfectly in tune but once you do, the sound is like nothing else on earth, and the part writing in these pieces is exquisite. So we were, just now and then, enraptured with our own playing which is quite an experience for me, a self-taught musician with a very deficient technique but an absolute love of the music and my instrument.

Tenor & Bass Linarol viols

absorbing ultra violet on the

washing line.

This weekend we are taking the viols to a playing day in Edinburgh (with The Early Music Forum of Scotland AGM in the middle) where we will offer the experience of playing these viols and this repertoire to players who may have later viols of their own, but wish to try the Linarols. In the world of early music, the first half of the sixteenth century and the second half are very different creatures ! Another member is doing the same with renaissance recorders (made in one piece, no keys except for the big ones - sound like an organ stop with the characteristic 'chiff' at the start of the note - we will lend our set so that everyone can play a renaissance recorder) and yet another member will lead a large scale choral and instrumental work at the end of the day.This provision of opportunity for all is very much a part of the Forum's work - it's a great way for people who don't have a regular group to play in to play with others.

More about the viols on www.rjviols.co uk
More about us playing them on www.thegallowayconsort.co.uk

'Proper' blogging

2010-04-22T15:46:00.002Z

From now on - 22nd April 2010 - and after some piercing comments (!) I'm going to use this blog for keeping a creative diary and not as a secondary website. If you want to see my website it's at www.vivienjones.info

Greenwich International Early Music Exhibition 2009

2009-11-18T20:53:00.008Z

Alison Crum and Friends

Roy Marks,Jan Zahourek, Ruth Fraser

(Ali Kinder not in photo)

Richard and I took our set of viols and everything else that goes with them to Greenwich in early November where we set up our 'music room' and prepared for three days of renaissance viol playing. In between the playing we performed(along with Vickie Hobson and Linda Hill) at a masterclass in St Alfege Church with our teacher, Alison Crum and then Alison and Friends( Roy Marks,Jan Zahourek,Ali Kinder and Ruth Fraser) played a recital on them of music for Henry VIII - called 'Very Perfect' - in the Admiral's Room. It's such a lovely thing to spend time with players of all abilities, with lots or little experience and watch them discover the special sound of Richard's viols on the music they were designed to play. He now has a three to four year waiting list for these instruments.......

Masterclass with Alison Crum at St Alfege's, Greenwich

Vickie Hobson, Linda Hill and me

(Richard taking photograph)

Vivien and Friends in our Skittle Alley 'music room'

(Ali Kinder, who played in the recital and two young viol players

from Warwickshire, one of them managing a very large viol)

our music group

the viols

My First Collection !

2009-08-26T15:35:00.022Z

Pewter Rose website

Here is my first collection of short stories and monologues published by Pewter Rose Press (Nottingham)

These girls and women have two things in common; fat and a happenstance connection with Jimmy at the Chippie. There’s Monica who speaks for herself, fond of sex and food, only one of which really satisfies her, Carol who finds her own special way to self-esteem and Veronica who sheds more than weight when she loses four stones. There’s Trish and Jeannie, both in school uniform for very different reasons and Marie who has an unusual approach to shopping. There’s Denise, a child-mother, who finds herself unexpectedly metamorphosing into a state of bliss and Sandy, a child ashamed of her fat mother, convinced that she is fated to become a perfect replica.

There are big women everywhere across Britain, overlooked, mocked and despised. Their strategies for survival can be inspired, funny or desperate but survive they do. In these stories their inventiveness is celebrated, their sadness acknowledged and a challenge thrown out to each of us to examine our tendency to judge the book by its cover.