Jan 312014
 

By Bob Smith.
Grandmother is tickling grandfather

Es growein aul’ tis a pain
Some fowk treat ye wi disdain
If yer noo ower seeventy five
Ye’ve less chunce o steyin alive
.
Ye micht nae be treated fer Big C
Ach ye’ll noo jist hae tae dee
Ye’re a burden tae the NHS
Yer chunces o treatment cwid be less
.
It’s noo a warld fer the young an fit
If yer aul’ yer in the shit
Society wints ye oot the wye
So curl up an bliddy die
.
Leukit upon as bein senile
Nae langer pairt o rank an file
Costs ower muckle fer yer care
Time ye wis plunkit in yer lair
Time fer aul’ buggers tae fecht back
An show the warld we dinna lack
The will tae live an contribute
We hiv mair sinse than some nae doot
.
Maist aulder eens they aye vote
So governmints please tak note
Ignore us an ye’ll fin oot noo
We hiv the power tae turn the screw
.
Seeventy five aat’s noo nae  auld
Even tho some fowk are turnin bald
Wi  hiv earned the richt tae expect
Society tae treat us wi mair respect.
.
.
.
.
©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2014
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Jun 282013
 

June is global Motor Neurone Disease awareness month. Aware that we are fast ‘running out of June’ Duncan Harley is moved to write and spread this awareness into July and hopefully beyond.

Motor Neurone Disease (MND) is a fatal, rapidly progressive disease that can affect any adult at any time. The disease attacks the nerves that control movement; people can still think and feel but their muscles refuse to work, leaving them unable to move, walk, talk and ultimately breathe.

Five people die every day in the UK from MND and around half of those diagnosed die within 14 months. There is no diagnostic test, no effective treatment and no cure.

To increase awareness of this disease, the Motor Neurone Disease Association hope that as many people as possible will watch the film “I Am Breathing” during June 2013.

Winner of many awards in 2012 and 2013, the film is the hard-hitting true story of Neil Platt, a 33 year old British architect who developed motor neurone disease shortly after the birth of his son. Paralysed from the neck down and with only months to live, he tells his story to help raise awareness of this devastating disease and dedicates the film to his one year old son, Oscar.

Collaborating with filmmakers Emma Davie and Bafta Award winning Morag McKinnon, Neil used his remaining months to communicate about his illness. He also wrote a blog, ‘The Plattitude’, and committed himself to playing a part in making MND history by inspiring a community of people to spread information and awareness this fatal illness.

Part of this initiative to increase awareness of MND is the option to host an “I am breathing” showing in your own community, home or workplace.

I am breathing film trailer

Neil’s Blog “The Plattitude”: http://plattitude.co.uk/

You can find out more about the worldwide and local screenings of I am Breathing plus how to host a screen showing for your friends and neighbours at: http://www.mndassociation.org/news-and-events/Awareness+Month+2013/I+am+breathing.htm

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Apr 292013
 

Local charity and support group Friends of Anchor came up with an ingenious way to raise funds and awareness:  they decided to hold a fashion show with models who survived a cancer diagnosis.  Suzanne Kelly covered this event for Aberdeen Voice and found it one of the most uplifting and inspirational events held in our area for quite some time.

Friends of Anchor decided to put on a fashion show to raise funds – but not just any fashion show.

The women would be community members who had been diagnosed with cancer and overcame it with help from the Anchor Unit.

The call for models received an overwhelming response; it was only a pity that only 24 could be selected.

After months of fittings and rehearsals, these amazing women took to a catwalk erected in The Beach Ballroom.

The ticket demand was beyond organisers’ dreams – all tables sold out quickly, and demand hadn’t abated:  they had to open the balcony for seating without food service for both the afternoon tea and evening dinner shows.  All tickets were taken.

A raffle was held; and a tombola-style ‘tree of indulgence’ was hung with 500 tickets, some linking to fabulous prizes.  The organisers hoped to sell most of the tickets by the time the evening show concluded:  in the end, all these tickets were snapped up at the afternoon show.

The table was laid for afternoon tea in a beautiful style; the food was delicious.  The clothing on show had something to offer every size and age of woman.

Stalls around the room sold a variety of goods.  But all this paled in comparison to the models.

Each gave a brief description of their individual situation in the programme; several were featured in video vignettes showing how they dealt with their problems, how their friends and family were on hand to help, and how the Anchor Unit provided personal, state-of-the art health services geared to the needs of each individual.

There were older women; younger women; a pregnant woman, and one particularly courageous woman, Laura, who was still being treated at the unit.  She first took to the catwalk without wearing a wig (like many if not most, her hair had fallen out during treatment).  She was radiant.

There were casual outfits, wedding and evening clothes.  The women were given the warmest of welcomes from the crowd, which seemed to clap nonstop.  Their attitudes to their medical problems marked them out as extraordinary people; it was really an honour to have been there.

Speeches were made by charity patron Jimmy Milne of Balmoral Group and the Lord Provost.  Sarah-Jane Milne and Sandra McIntosh of Total were also speakers; it was announced that the afternoon event had made £39,000+ – the target for afternoon and evening events, with all proceeds going directly to the charity with no overheads to pay.

The models were:  Ashlea Corvelle, Christina Farquhar, Dawn Laird, Erica Matthew, Fiona Vass, Gail Roberts, Joan Cordier, Joanna Strathdee, Judith Logan, Judy Alexander, Julia Riddoch, Kathleen Haw, Katrina Farquhar, Kay Sowerby, Laura Atkinson, Laura Brackenridge, Lesley Anne Yeates, Llynda Johnston, Mary McLean, Nikki Dunn, Norma Ben Tebr, Patricia Beckett, Rebecca Grant, and Tricia Howden.

For the finale, all the models came out and joined the audience. Moments later everyone was up and dancing and/or congratulating the models on a brilliant show.  This event was a huge and happy success story, and hopefully will become an annual event.

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Jul 262012
 

Reforestation could benefit Scotland’s economy by boosting wildlife tourism, claims conservation charity Trees for Life, which has announced ambitious plans to double its current rate of restoration work in Scotland’s Caledonian forest. This will see the establishment of one million more trees within five years, through planting and natural regeneration. With thanks to Richard Bunting.

The charity, which aims to restore the Caledonian Forest to an area of over 2500 square km in the Scottish Highlands, has launched its Million More Trees campaign in a response to deforestation, climate change and biodiversity loss.

But their ambitions could also bring significant benefits to Scotland’s economy by boosting wildlife tourism.

Alan Watson Featherstone, the charity’s Executive Director, explains,

“Establishing a million new native trees in the next five years represents a significant scaling up of our work. We have set ourselves this challenge as a response to the threats posed by environmental degradation globally, and human-induced climate change.

“At the same time, it is part of a positive vision of re-establishing world-class wild landscapes rich in wildlife in Scotland. The Highlands in particular, with a lot of empty land and a low population density, is a perfect region for tree planting.

“With wildlife tourism already generating an estimated £276m a year for the Scottish economy, it’s clear that restoring the Caledonian forest and its unique wildlife to an inspiring, spectacular wilderness region of a thousand square miles, could have significant economic as well as environmental benefits for the country.” 

In a report published this month, Tourism Intelligence Scotland estimated that every year over a million visits are made to Scotland to view wildlife. Launching the report, Tourism Minister Fergus Ewing said that 58% of visitors to Scotland cite scenery and landscape as the main reason for choosing our country as a holiday destination.

Trees for Life’s plans for the next year include significant planting of native trees on its Dundreggan estate near Loch Ness, a natural regeneration project in a Caledonian forest remnant in Glen Strathfarrar, and undertaking work to protect regenerating aspens and the planting of new aspen seedlings at Scatwell, north of Inverness.

Since 1989, the charity has created 4000 hectares of new Caledonian forest, and has worked at 45 different locations. A complex web of life is already renewing itself in these emerging forests. Habitat restoration is making a notable impact on wildlife such as strawberry spiders, wood ants, red squirrels, rare sawflies, ospreys and capercaillies.

Since planting its first trees in 1991 in Glen Affric, Trees for Life has planted over one million trees, the major milestone being reached in May 2012 when acclaimed wildlife cameraman and BBC filmmaker Gordon Buchanan planted that one millionth tree. In this time, the charity has won awards including the 1991 UK Conservation Project of the Year, the Millennium Marque in 2000 and Top 10 Conservation Holidays worldwide in 2009.

The first tree of the Million More Trees campaign was planted at Dundreggan by the Highland naturalist, author and presenter, Roy Dennis, Trees for Life patron.

Readers can support Trees for Life by funding dedicated trees and groves, and it offers Conservation Holiday Weeks to allow people to gain practical conservation experience in beautiful locations.

More Info – www.treesforlife.org.uk
Tel. 0845 458 3505.

Image credit:  TREE OVER SUN © Egidijus Mika | Dreamstime.com

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Jul 192012
 

With thanks to Richard Bunting.

Forres taxi operator David Macpherson is helping to bring Scotland’s Caledonian Forest back from the brink by supporting the Findhorn based conservation charity Trees for Life, which aims to restore the forest to an area of over 2,500 square kilometres in the Scottish Highlands.

David’s firm, Mac’s Eco Taxi, donates 20 pence to the award winning charity for every journey that picks up, or drops off, at the Findhorn Eco village in Findhorn Bay, Moray.

The scheme has already notched up more than £150, which David presented to Trees for Life recently.  The green-minded taxi operator also has plans to fund a grove of trees through the charity.

David, who has run a taxi business for five years, decided to give his business a green boost in late 2010 by investing in a state of the art hybrid Honda Civic which runs on electricity as well as petrol.  The car is able to recharge itself while being driven so has no need to be plugged in.

In addition to purchasing the first such car to be operated by a taxi firm in the area, David also decided to make a difference to the environment by supporting Trees for Life’s forest restoration work.

David said:

“I’d noticed Trees for Life’s vehicles and office on many trips to Findhorn, but it was buying the charity’s calendar with its stunning photographs of the Caledonian Forest that really inspired me.  Our customers know that we are being doubly carbon conscious – with low emissions from our car and with donations supporting the reforestation of the Highlands.”

Since planting its first trees in Glen Affric in 1991, Trees for Life has planted over one million trees and has received a number of awards including the 1991 UK Conservation Project of the Year, the Millennium Marque in 2000 and Top 10 Conservation Holidays worldwide in 2009.

Alan Watson Featherstone, executive director at Trees for Life, said:

“This is an excellent project that is good news for the climate as well as Scotland’s biodiversity and wild landscapes.  

“Simple yet positive schemes like this make a big difference to our work.  Every £5 allows us to plant a tree and every £50 enables us to restore 50 square metres of native woodland.”

People can support Trees for Life’s restoration of the Caledonian Forest by funding dedicated trees and groves, while the charity’s Conservation Holiday Weeks allow people to gain practical conservation experience in beautiful locations.

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May 312012
 

With thanks to Richard Bunting.

A symbolically important moment in the restoration of one of the ‘world’s greatest woodland habitats’ was celebrated on Sunday 20th May, when acclaimed wildlife cameraman and filmmaker Gordon Buchanan planted Trees for Life’s Millionth Tree in Scotland’s Caledonian Forest.

The event took place at a celebration event held at the award-winning conservation charity’s Dundreggan Estate near Loch Ness, in Glen Moriston, Inverness-shire.

“Magnificent and magical, the Caledonian Forest is a wild place at its most wonderful. Every single tree planted helps to restore one of the world’s greatest woodland habitats. One tree will be used by a thousand species in a forest that will stand for 10,000 years, which in that time can be enjoyed by a million people.

“Great forests are established one tree at a time. I am honoured to plant the millionth tree on behalf of Trees for Life,” said Gordon Buchanan.

Alan Watson Featherstone, Trees for Life’s founder and executive director, said:

“It’s fitting thatScotland should be in the forefront of restoring its world-class wild landscapes, having been one of the first countries to lose its forests and much of its wildlife. We are proud to be playing a key role in bringing our equivalent of a rainforest back from the brink of being lost forever.

“Planting our Millionth Tree is a major moment, made possible by the dedicated support of countless volunteers and generous donors over almost a quarter of a century. It’s an achievement that shows that we can all help to create positive environmental change.”

The event also saw the planting of the first of Trees for Life’s next million trees, including one by the charity’s patron and Highlands naturalist, author and presenter Roy Dennis. There were performances by the Woodland Orchestra, activities by environmental education charity Wild Things!, guided walks and a celebratory barbecue.

Support also came from other well-known public figures, including writers and broadcasters Muriel Gray and Vanessa Collingridge, both of whom are Trees for Life patrons.

Muriel said:

“How amazing that the Million Tree moment has come, and Trees For Life, their supporters and volunteers, can all proudly celebrate years of hard work and vision together. Public awareness of the importance of reinstating our heritage forests has grown so much since the beginning of the project, and now the enthusiasm for the positive and inspirational work being done is enormous. Well done to everyone, and let’s get started on the next million trees!”

Vanessa added:

“The celebrations for the Millionth Tree are not only for the inspirational work of Trees for Life and everyone who has played a part in this magnificent effort. For me, the real celebrations will be among the communities of insects, animals and plant life that are all thriving in the webs of life created by the emerging forests.

“I’m so proud to have played my own small part in planting not only a landscape of trees but a landscape of life and joy. Congratulations to all of you who’ve been involved – and to all the plants and creatures that now thrive in their new home.”

People can help Trees for Life to plant its next million trees by purchasing dedicated trees and groves. The charity’s award-winning volunteer Conservation Holidays weeks offer opportunities to gain practical conservation experience.

Trees for Life aims to restore the Caledonian Forest to an area of over 2,500 square kilometres in the Highlands west of Inverness and Loch Ness.

Feb 032012
 

With thanks to Kylie Roux.

YOUR LEANING NECK – SONG AS PORTRAIT – Steven Anderson

Based on an event from November last year at The Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Your Leaning Neck is a performance project that aims to challenge institutional representations of national identity by giving voice to non-institutional values.

A silent video installation showcasing last November’s event from two perspectives will be shown in the Peacock gallery.

Saturday 18 February – Saturday 10 March 

– Live Performance

Starting off at Peacock’s gallery then moving onto the Episcopal Cathedral Church of St Andrew, visitors will be treated to a live re-contextualisation of the performance event created as a site-specific response to the Scottish National Portrait Gallery’s collection of portraits from the Scottish Enlightenment. Within the performance, oral tradition singers are presented alongside contemporary artists who also use their unaccompanied voice as a means of expression.

Friday 24 February | 7 – 9pm | Peacock Visual Arts | FREE 

GIG IN THE GALLERY – Martin John Henry

Recently praised by Sound-Scotland, as “one of Scotland’s finest songwriters”, Gargleblast Records and Peacock Visual Arts present Martin John Henry.

The Lanarkshire born singer songwriter is best known for fronting Scottish Rock Band De Rosa – critically lauded and championed by John Peel and Steve Lamaq – as well as writing, recording and playing with many of Scotland’s finest musicians including Barry Burns (Mogwai), Robert Johnston (Life Without Buildings), King Creosote and Malcolm Middleton.

Saturday 4 February | 8pm | £8 on the door 

RESIDENCY/PERFORMANCE – ONE MAN UNIT – Paul Wiersbinski and Wieland Schönfelder

ONE MAN UNIT is a hybrid of man and sculpture. Through a variety of outputs, audiences are invited to interact with and experience the spontaneous and unexpected developments of this creative beast, as it evolves during the artists’ two-week residency at Peacock.
You can follow the construction of this half man half machine via their daily blog on Peacock’s Facebook page. The ONE MAN UNIT will then be let loose on the public on two occasions:

Saturday 28 January – Friday 10 February

– Note: Aberdeen Voice updates Peacock info periodically, but there may be recently added events not included in this post. Please contact Peacock direct for the latest information.

Peacock Visual Arts
21 Castle Street
Aberdeen
AB11 5BQ
Tel: 01224 639539
Mob: 07947 490626
e: kylie@peacockvisualarts.co.uk
Website: www.peacockvisualarts.com
Online Print Store: www.peacockvisualarts.culturelabel.com

Dec 152011
 

Aberdeen Voice presents An Aberdeen Christmas Carol – A work of fiction, with apologies to Charles Dickens, by Suzanne Kelly and Fred Wilkinson.

The Characters

(any resemblance to anyone living, dead, or somewhere between the two is purely coincidental and not at all a deliberate attempt at parody.  This is a work of fiction and of Saltire satire )

Ianeezer Scrooge                          Old, wealthy miser, lacking in compassion but loaded with greed
Gruff and MeKeachruns                Servants to Scrooge, supplying his needs
Jenny Crawl                                   Companion to Scrooge, with whom he feeds
Jacob Milney                                  A Spirit – Once partner of Scrooge, now doomed for his deeds
Bruce the Robert                           A Spirit of Christmas Past, with Scrooge he pleads
ASIF                                               A Spirit of Christmas present, transparent indeed
Hoodie                                           A Spirit of Christmas future – but will Scrooge heed?
Spencer for Hire                             A waiter
Steve Peters Lord Provost             A dignitary
Kevin                                              An errand boy
Mr Mickie                                        Scrooge’s employee, head of a large family
Tiny Tim Mickie                              Youngest of the Mickie household
Katie Dee & Kevin Dum                 Washerwomen

  *                                              *                                              *

The careful shopper kept one eye on his purse and the other looking upwards, for the gigantic Christmas lights hung over all, like the giant orbs from ‘The Prisoner’, and were prone to falling, crushing the occasional small child or pensioner.

The pubs were filled with young ladies and gentlemen drinking eggnogs and Babycham.

The first snow would soon fall, and Christmas cheer was everywhere.  Well, almost everywhere.

A car drove towards an office block; not just any car, but the town’s very own Civic Car.  This chauffeur-driven car was the envy of all, and in it sat the Lord Provost Steve Peters himself, and the town’s wealthiest man, Ianeezer Scrooge.

“Listen Peters, I’m a patient man, but if construction doesn’t start soon on my Scrooge family car park and shopping mall, someone’s going to find less cash in their Christmas stocking this year – get the picture?”

The speaker was Scrooge, and although his voice was calm, he was turning a reddish colour.  Peters shook his head and rubbed his hands.

“Everything possible is being done – we have our best people ah, ‘volunteering’ to work on the project night and day.  Soon the Denburn Park will be officially yours.”  Peters answered Scrooge with a slightly nervous voice, for there had been far more opposition to this plan than was expected.  The public it seems did not want a little patch of ground turned into a car park.

This piece of ground had been given centuries ago to the people by the famed  hero king of old, Bruce the Robert.  A statue of him astride a trusty steed stood outside the newly-cleaned (and gutted) Marshall Academy building which now housed the city’s staff.  The Denburn Parkland was the property of the people, gifted to they by King Robert, but if Scrooge wanted the park, well, then he must have it.

Teams of lawyers toiled day and night to find some clever way to make it all work. The brilliant, peerless lawyer MeKeechruns could not have been more helpful.  Loopholes were exploited, companies set up, and there very best man, Berry Gruff was one of the lead figures making it all fall into place. ‘ If only the people would stop protesting!’ the Lord Provost thought.  ‘The wife’s on at me for some more designer jeans, and her clothes are costing a fortune.  Guess it’s all on expenses anyway, but still.’

“I want progress soon, understand!  You do want to stay Lord Provost, I’m sure, and all those other councillors know what side their bread is buttered on.  Get me a progress report tonight.”  Scrooge said matter-of-factly, as the chauffeur opened the door and Ianeezer Scrooge alit at the Scrooge Building.  He entered the doors, thrust his hat and coat at his assistant Mr Mickie, and strode off to his office, Mickie trotting at his heels.

“Have you written those letters yet?” Scrooge asked “They need to be out to James Brown at the funding office forthwith – but do send them second class – first class stamps are going up again.  And who turned the heat up in here?  I’m paying for this you know.”

Scrooge’s pet project depended to some extent on a funding application.  A Mr James Brown was in charge of the funds.  Most of Scrooge’s employees and lackeys had been set the task of writing to Brown, saying what a great project it would be and that funding must be granted.

“Oh, I’m sorry” said Mickie, “I’ll turn the heat off straight away.  Yes, I’ve written to ask for the funding for the Denburn project in my own name, in the names of all my wee children, including Tiny Tim, and as myself for all the companies you’ve put me in charge of – in name only of course” he added, seeing  Ianeezer had raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m out to lunch” said Ianeezer – and Mickie thought that was true enough.  “Have you made reservations for me ?  I’m taking Jenny Crawl out to the Clifmar for a nice long lunch.”

“Oh yes sir, everything is in place; do have a nice –“ but before Mickie could finish Scrooge was off again.

Mickie knew he had to work hard and do as Scrooge told him.  He had all his children to think of, including poor little Tiny Tim who needed a crutch.  Not only did Mickie work for Scrooge, he had to hold down several other jobs and even work at the local pharmacy to make ends meet.  If only things went Scrooge’s way, then no doubt Scrooge would pass some money onto Mickie as well – at least Mickie hoped so.  For Scrooge had pledged to leave the project millions of pounds, and hinted that those nearest to him would likewise be remembered in his will.

Across town Scrooge was peering at the lovely Jenny Crawl over the wine list.

“Is there anything else I can do for you sir, anything at all?  Just let me know, I’m your man.”  The little waiter, Spencer for Hire addressed Scrooge with great respect.  He too hoped to be a beneficiary of the as-yet unseen largess of Mr Scrooge.

“That will be all thank you Spence.” Jenny replied.  She was a tall stately woman with long blond hair.  She had worked her way up through the ranks and was now in the inner circle of Scrooge’s trusted business associates.  She worked long and hard helping Scrooge fulfil his dreams of seizing Denburn Park; it was after all the most desirable piece of real estate in town.  Of course they told the public that everything that Scrooge did was for their own good.  The truth was something else altogether.   If they could only turn this unprofitable bit of land with its trees, grassy banks, birds and flowers into a parking lot, they would become even richer.

They passed a pleasant few hours over caviar, champagne and fine foods.  Suddenly Scrooge felt unwell.  His head began to swim and his stomach ached.

“Jenny my dear” he sighed.  “Not feeling all that well, perhaps I had too much stilton and port.  Going home for a lie-down.  See you later I trust?  Just sign the bill for the project, it was a working lunch after all.”

“Dear Dear Ian” she said; she called him by his shortened name “you must go home and lie down at once!  We mustn’t let anything happen to you!”  She genuinely looked alarmed.  How she must care for him, Scrooge thought.

Before he knew it, Jenny and Spencer for Hire had bundled him back into his limo –  he thought they mumbled something about a will –  and he was being driven home through town.  It was twilight.  The moon shown over the Denburn Park as the limo drove past.  A shadow crossed the moon and for a moment, Scrooge thought he heard a moan.  The car then stopped at traffic lights at the Academy building, just by the Statue of Bruce the Robert.

The moonlight danced on the statue and as Scrooge froze – the horse lifted his hoof and the great Robert leaned forward and pointed at Ianeezer.  Scrooge closed his eyes and rubbed them – and when he opened them, there was the statue as motionless as it always had been.  ‘I must not eat any more of those funny chocolate brownies Katie my cleaning woman makes.  Trick of the eyes.’ He thought to himself.

As he arrived at the Scrooge mansion, his servants Katie D and Kevin Dum were at hand to help him into the house.  He ordered his faithful lackeys to bring him his dinner in his room; he would watch television in his bed and get an early night’s sleep.

Some funny programme was on, some old film called ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’.  Scrooge stopped to watch for a few moments.  In the scene that was playing, a young man called George Bailey was talking to a wealthy man called Mr Potter.

“Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you’re talking about… they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn’t think so. People were human beings to him. But to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they’re cattle. Well in my book, my father died a much richer man than you’ll ever be!”

Ianeezer Scooge couldn’t quite fathom what was wrong with the young man, and thought that the Mr Potter character seemed like an admirable fellow.

Just then a gust of wind caused a tree branch to tap on the window at the opposite wall.  The noise caught Scrooge’s attention and he turned.  For a split second he thought he saw the statue of Bruce the Robert again.  A feeling of dread crept over him, but then the moment was gone.  Scrooge gradually drifted off to sleep.  He though of Christmas and how much it would cost him in holiday wages.  ‘Christmas!  Bah Humbug!’

Scrooge had a troubled, strange sleep.  Waking with a start he noticed the room glowed red in the dark.  ‘what the hell is that irritating red light and how is anyone supposed to get any sleep with it on’ he thought when suddenly he realised he was not alone.  He clutched the bedclothes and sat upright, heart pounding.

There to his horror was a hideous figure – bald and short in stature with an undefined, characterless face.  It wore a red football jersey marked ‘AFC’.

“Ianeezer Scrooge!  It is I, your former business partner  Jacob Milney come to warn you!  Mend your ways, or you too will be damned for all eternity as I am!”

“Milney – is that you?”  Scrooge could not believe it – there stood the ghastly apparition which looked exactly like his former business partner Jacob Milney.  Poor Milney had blotted his copy book.  First there were some funny dealings with the city and a queer land deal. Then Milney alienated the people by buying their city champion curling team, and running it into the ground.  People whispered that Milney did not really care for curling at all, and simply wanted to grab as much land as possible.  True enough – and Scrooge in the old days felt a paternal fondness for Jacob Milney.  But as the tables turned on Milney and he lost credibility and got into trouble, Scrooge quite rightly cut him off.

“Er, look here Milney, I’m hallucinating right?  You are just an undigested bit of cheese aren’t you?” Scrooge demanded.

“I’ve been called far worse,” said Milney looking at the floor and shaking his head sadly “Ian, I have been sent here tonight to warn you – you must give up your greedy ways.  Three spirits will visit you this night to show you your past present and your terrible future if you don’t get off the path you are on.”

“What’s that thing you’re wearing?” demanded Ianeezer “and what makes you think I’m doing anything wrong?

At this Milney let out a ghostly long wail.  “For my greed, dishonesty, destruction of green spaces and miserly treatment of the curling club, I am forced to glow red in the dark like the stadium I built in the nature reserve.  I must wear this long chain.  It is made from all the trophies and silver that the curling team could have won had I not treated it as a real estate vehicle.  And believe me, this is a pretty long chain.”

Jacob shook it for effect.

“Learn from my greed and turn back.  Pay your UK taxes.  Stop getting rid of green space – and above all:  YOU MUST NOT BUILD THE MONOLITH.  My time here is ending.  I return to my punishment – I am forced to read the fan website and all the newspaper articles denouncing my stewartship of the curling club.  Ianeezer….,,”

Milney seemed to shrink to an even smaller shape than he had been in life, and with a final moan (which Ianeezer was used to from their long years of association) he was gone.

“Phew!” Thought Scrooge “If that was poor old Milney, he’s really lost his business sense.  But it was only a dream.  No more Brewdog ‘Tactical Nuclear Penguin’ for me before bedtime.

He rolled over and soon was sleeping again, but not very soundly at all.

*                                              *                                              *

Somewhere far off a horse whinnied and steel crashed against steel.  Scrooge sat up, and there was the great heroic figure of Bruce the Robert.

“Get up ye wee futtret!”  Robert demanded.

“Now look here” Scrooge cried ” Don’t speak to me like that, dead hero or not!  I’m Ianeezer Scrooge – or Mr Scrooge to you.”

“AAARRGH!” Cried Bruce the Robert, swinging his huge sword close to Scrooge who seemed to regret his earlier rudeness.  “Ah’ve focht bloody battles tae win the lands Ah hae noo – but fit aoot yersel? A’ you’ve ivver daen is stan idle watchin rival firms struggle, an’ like a hoodie cra’ pick their banes fan they’re ower puggled tae fecht back.

“Ah dinna ken why Ah should gee ma bahookie ower sic a grippy flechbite as yersel, but somebody hid tae come ower an gie ye a bollockin, an’ as ayewis, it wis left tae Muggins.

“Hemen, ye’ve mair money than ye ken fit tae dae wi, an’ still aye yer needin mair. Ah’m tellin ye noo tae cut it oot!

“Ah ken fit it’s like tae a fair puckly siller. Ae time Ah could hae went onywye an daen onythin Ah likit. Twis naebody’s business fit Ah did wi siller Ah workit for. But Ah gaed awa! ‘At’s richt, glaikit as it micht soun’, Ah gaed awa ma siller tae ornry workin fowks…. an as lang as Ah’m still kent as the Big Bob, fit Ah gied tae the fowks will bide wi the fowks. D’ye underconstumble?

“So if you as much as pint yer finger at ae tree in the fowk’s perk at Denburn, Ah’ll come doon on ye like a ton o’ bricks.

“Noo Ah’ve heard ye bumpin yer gums aboot gaein yer siller awa tae fowk, but dinna kid yersel, the Aiberdeen fowk are nae blin’, an’ they’re nae as feel as ye think. So fit is’t yer buildin onywye? Ah’ve haen a lookie an’ Ah’ve nae seen siccan a sair sotter in a’ ma puff. Fit’s wi’ the muckle gless worm thingmy? Are ye wise??”

“Clearly”  Scrooge replied, “You just don’t understand this wonderful gift I’m giving the people.

“There will be underground parking, shopping, ramps to walk on, a monolith, and a great big covered space to sit in.    It is the way to ensure our economic future, and people will come from afar to see this wonderful site.  And spend money.  There will be jobs creation, vibrancy, dynamism.  It is a focal point for the civic heart of the city which – “

“Haud yer wheesht min!” interrupted the ancient hero’s ghost forcefully  “Div Ah look like a gluepot? Div ye think fowk are feel enough tae believe the tripe comin oot yer mou? Div ye believe it yersel min? If ye dae, then yer mair o’ a neep than Ah taen ye for. Ah’m tellin ye yince mair min jist in case the penny hisna drapped. That perk is tae bide the wye it is … so snoot oot –  or ye’ll ken a’ aboot it.

“Richt, Ah’m awa noo, but mind fit Ah telt ye.”

“Is your time on this earth up?” asked Scrooge “You see, if you could just understand why we need to build these ramps and monoliths, then –“

“Nah, ma time’s ma ain” the Robert growled, prodding his finger into his chest “But the verra sicht o’ yer soor coupon is daein ma napper in, so Ah’m aff. But Ah’ll be clockin ye. So get a grip ye grippy git. Yer needin tae heed the wise or wise the heid. Itherwise min, it’s tatties!”

And the ghostly horse reared; the Robert charged the window, and was gone into the night.

“Hm… I guess I believe in ghosts!” Thought  Ianeezer – “Hmph!  It’s easier to believe in spirits than in any of this public relations ‘vibrant and dynamic’ nonsense – whatever that means.   I just want that land, some parking, some shops and of course a statue to ME, which the grateful populace will insist is built.  But the spirit was right – perhaps I need to do some more thinking about this project.”

Scrooge shook his head up and down with satisfaction before plumping his pillow, and laying down again.

*                                              *                                              *

“You sit around here and you spin your little webs and you think the whole world revolves around you and your money. Well, it doesn’t, Mr. Potter. In the whole vast configuration of things, I’d say you were nothing but a scurvy little spider!”

The television was still on – these words woke Scrooge up, and he rubbed his eyes.  The room was filled with a fuzzy glow.  There was some kind of shape in the room, cloudlike with little form.  It however spoke in a girl’s voice.

“Hi there!  I’m ASIF, the ghost of Christmas present!  But you can call me Jan.” the thing said.

“What are you?  I can’t figure out what you’re supposed to be?” Scrooge asked, turning his head to one side.  The thing existed, yet he could see straight through it but could not tell what it was.  It kept changing.  Truly this ghost was vibrant and dynamic.  At one point he thought he saw a big translucent worm.  Another moment and it seemed to be either a big spiderweb or a great big square block.

“You should understand” the voice said “for you are creating me.  I am ASIF, your project.  I’m not exactly defined yet – no one – not even you  – knows what I will look like.  You only know that you want me built, and you hope to have a statue of yourself – like the statue of Bruce the Robert.  I am here to show you the truth of Christmas Present.  You will see what your actions have created in this city for people this very Christmas night.  Now come with me.  Take hold of my robe and you will be uplifted in more than this.  Whatever that means.”

“Now hold on Jan” said a sceptical Scrooge.  “I had Milney in her not long ago pretending to be some kind of spirit – just the kind of silly caper that gets him into trouble every time.  Why should I think you are ASIF, some kind of a ghost?”

“Well, I’m fully transparent aren’t I?” ASIF answered.

“Very well spirit, show me what Christmas looks like this year.”

They flew out the window.  And this is what they saw.

They saw a homeless man shiver in the cold, mourning for his friend who had frozen to death earlier in the week.  They saw bulldozers tearing into the remaining countryside; they saw other green fields nearby.  They saw some people suffering, and others feasting.  They saw pensioners and people with special needs trying to make do.  They saw crumbling NHS hospitals and closed down schools.  They saw poor ailing Tiny Tim Mickie sitting in a corner of his room, writing letters at his dad’s bidding to James Brown, begging for the Scrooge project to go ahead.  They saw the happy, the sad, the rich and the poor.  Then they saw the richest man in town’s mansion, and it was Scrooge’s.

“All those people with all their hopes and dreams.  All of the land being built on, leaving animals without shelter, space or feeding ground. All the suffering.  And yet Mr Scooge, here we are back at your billionaire pad with its comforts and servants.  Does this teach you anything at all?”  The spirit asked.

“Yes, indeed it does.  Thank you ASIF.  I have learned much.”  Scrooge answered thoughfully.  “But what are those two child-like figures clinging to you, hidden under your robes?”

“Fear them Scrooge” answered ASIF “the little boy is Ignorance; he is what happens if schools are closed.  The little girl is called Want, and what you waste in a day could save her.”

“Would I get any tax break if I make a donation?” Scrooge asked.  The spirit pretended it hadn’t heard this question.

“I shall leave you now, and another spirit will soon appear to show you the future.”ASIF said.  With that, the ghostly shimmery giant worm thing was gone.

“I shall make use of what she showed me.  I shall change” Ianeezer thought. “And now I await my last spectral visitation.”  He sat on his bed, and noticed the movie was still playing.  It felt as if this night was never going to end, yet if the movie was still on, only moments had passed.

*                                              *                                              *

A wild wind was blowing; Scrooge’s windows were thrown wide open by an invisible force.    Before the spectre, who was wearing a hoodie that covered its face entirely could speak, Ianeezer began.

“Look, I know who you are and why you’re here – let’s see the future, for I’ve been given much food for thought tonight.  Time’s money, let’s get a move on.”  The spectre grabbed Scrooge’s arm and they flew forward in time.

They  were still in Scrooge’s house, but according to the calendar some 20 years had passed.  Two old haggard ladies were arguing, and the draperies were closed around Scrooge’s bed.  They were his faithful servants, Katie D and Kevin Dum.

“I’ll have that for all the years of suffering I’ve endured.” Said one of the washer women.  She was grabbing a casket of silverware.

“Fine – take that, I’ll get the old fool’s fillings from his teeth!” said the other scrubber.  More voices were heard, and the two washer women scarpered.  Soon a party of lawyers, councillors, and the lovely Jenny Crawl dressed head to toe in black entered.  They all sobbed.

“See spirit!  See how they miss me!” said Scrooge, who realised it was his deathbed they were seeing.  He felt most proud at this outpouring of grief.

“Bollocks!” said Jenny.  “After all those  years of crawling, the old bastard not only didn’t leave money to the Denburn project, he’s  not left me more than an old photo of himself!  The nerve!”

“Years I printed what I was told, and more to the point I didn’t print what he didn’t want out.  And it’s all been for nothing.”  A man with a folded up newspaper under his arm simmered angrily.

“My project, my beautiful project!” said Gruff “who’s going to pay for it now!?  Hundreds of millions of pounds are needed, or the city will go broke.”

“I thought I had all the angles covered,” wept MeKeechruns “I’m usually so very, very brilliant!”

The miserable party railed at the dead man.  “Show me no more of this!” cried Scrooge.  He blinked and found himself at the home of his servant, Mickie.  Tiny Tim’s crutch lay along against the fire place.

“Where’s Mickie’s son Tiny Tim?” asked Scrooge

Before the spectre of Chrismas Future could answer, the Mickies entered the room.

“My poor wee Tim!” cried Mrs Mickie “Who would have thought he could die from writer’s cramp?  It was bad enough he  had to bombard James Brown with letters demanding that the funding for Scrooge’s project be granted.” She sobbed, “But it was just too much for wee Tim to have to also forge all those referendum ballots too.  Ah, my poor boy!”.

Scrooge and the spirit were suddenly in the fresh air, in the middle of what seemed like a party.  It was the Denburn Park, but not as Scrooge remembered it.  A giant steel skeleton with smashed glass panes lay to his left.  A giant huge monolith with no windows stood nearby.  A schoolboy threw empty bottles of Buckfast off of a giant concrete ramp covered in graffiti.

On a stage under the ramp, Status Quo played to an audience of OAPs. Groans intermixed with the sound of car engines emanated from the oversized Monolith.  It bore a sign that read “The Ianeezer Scrooge memorial Monolith – parking, shopping and children’s Workhouse.” But all were rejoicing as overhead a grafittied monorail limped to a halt.

“He’s dead!  He’s DEAD!” they all cried, raising glasses of latte or vodka overhead.  Scrooge did not want to know who’s death the rabble were cheering – he had his suspicions.

“Spirit, show me no more.  I have learnt my lessons well.  Thank you.  I promise I will make changes!”  And with these words from Scrooge, a bolt of lightning blinded him for a moment.  Then, he was in his own room again.  The calendar showed he had returned to the present time.

Scrooge was much changed by what he had seen.

*                                              *                                              *

“Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends”

Incredibly, the movie ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ was only just now ending, although Scrooge felt his ordeal had lasted several nights not hours.  Scrooge sat straight up in bed, and the sunlight streamed through the window.  He laughed out loud.  Throwing on his robe he raced to the window, still laughing, and threw open the sash.  A boy was visible nearby.

“You there boy, what day is this?” Scrooge demanded.

“Why sir, it’s Christmas day!” the puzzled lad answered.

“Then a merry Christmas to you!  See this twenty-pound note?” Ianeezer asked, waiving a bill in the air

“Yes Sir!” answered the boy

“Go and fetch me the biggest turkey in the whole town!” Scrooge commanded

“Dean, Fletcher or Malone?” asked the lad

“Ho ho – smart lad!  Fetch me them all! – and Gruff and MeKeechruns as well!” Scrooge answered, and disappeared from the window.  “Much to do today!  Much to change!” he thought to himself.

In a little under an hour later, a somewhat disgruntled motley crew of councillors, officials and others connected to the Denburn Park project found themselves in Scrooge’s drawing room.

“I’ll bet you wondered why I called you hear today” he asked.  A chorus of “we are happy to be here, and ‘merry Christmas sir” greeted him.

“I’ve been thinking about the project, and have a new suggestion or two – believe me, these changes are very forward looking.” Ianeezer  announced.  The assembled great and good replied ‘fantastic!’ ‘can’t wait!’ and so on.

“We’re going to electrify the worm, and throw anyone in prison who touches it.  Now the monolith idea – what if as well as underground parking we put in a workhouse? We’ll save money putting the kids in workhouses and closing more schools.  Do you think that will be possible – I mean think of the labour saving and government grant possibilities!”

There was a moment’s silence “Well, are you with me – remember the money I’m leaving in my will!” Scrooge said with a hint of threat.

“Astounding!” “Visionary” “Vibrant!!” “Dynamic!”  “Inclusion!”   the buzzwords he so loved rang out across the room.

“Merry Christmas  – now back to your homes.  Jenny – stay for a drink won’t you?”  A shadow seemed to cross her face for an instant, but it was gone.

Ianeezer Scrooge was a happy man indeed, and remained grateful to the spirits to the end of his days.

“Please sir – the twenty pound note?” asked a wee boy in the back of the great drawing room.   “Yes, here it is” Scrooge said waving it, “And if you do me another favour sometime, I’ll show it to you again.”

Amid the approving nervous titters of the council bigwigs, the boy was shown the door.

Somewhere far away, an icicle formed under the eye of a bronze statue of a former king of Scotland.

THE END.

Nov 152011
 

With thanks to Bex Holmes.

Aberdeen was one of five locations across Scotland where the Humanist Society Scotland (HSS) shot a series of short films to show what humanists believe.
The films cover a wide range of important moral issues, including physician-assisted suicide, sectarianism and same-sex marriage and feature more than fifty people – from 10-year-old Mellin Buchanan (Thurso) to 81-year-old Margaret Ferguson (Inverness).

The films can be viewed at the society’s H Factor campaign site http://www.thehfactor.org.uk/ where they can also be downloaded and shared on social media sites like Facebook and Twitter.

Among the contributions in the film on humanism, Alex (Edinburgh) says:

“As far as I am aware, no humanist has ever killed anyone because of their beliefs”.

Among those commenting on physician-assisted suicide Catriona (Aberdeen) says movingly:

“We had to watch my granny die over a period of months, in pain, and wasting away in front of us when she’d told me years ago she’d had a great life and she was ready to go. Why can’t we afford people the same compassion that we show to our animals?”

HSS Convenor Les Mitchell says:

“We’re delighted with the H Factor films.  They show that humanists are deeply committed to making the world a better place.  Humanism is becoming daily more familiar in Scotland.  But, although our ceremonies grow ever more popular, very few people actually know what humanists believe.  In these films they can see for themselves and many of them may realise that, without knowing it, they’ve been humanists all their lives.”

The HSS is also inviting members of the public to win £1,000 by creating a new slogan for the society in an online competition hosted at the H Factor site.
http://www.thehfactor.org.uk/

Humanist weddings were made legal in Scotland in June 2005.  In 2010 there were 2092 weddings led by Humanist celebrant, compared to 1776 Catholic weddings, making Humanist weddings the third most popular form of marriage in Scotland [after Registrars and Church of Scotland ].

The Humanist Society Scotland is a charity founded in 1989 and currently has more than 7,000 members.   Christopher Brookmyre is its president and distinguished supporters include Stephen Fry, Richard Dawkins, Professor James Lovelock and the novelist Iain Banks.

The Society aims to represent those in Scotland who choose to live a moral life without religion. We have a network of trained Celebrants who carry out non-religious ceremonies such as funerals, weddings, baby-namings etc.

For further information please contact:
Tim Maguire, HSS Media Officer
Tel. 0131 556 0128 or 07770 555 224
Email: media@humanism-scotland.org.uk

Aberdeen Group  Main Contact:
Marion Richardson, Secretary
Tel: 01888 562 237
Email: aberdeen@humanism-scotland.org.uk
Website: http://www.humanism-scotland.org.uk

Sep 302011
 

Those irreverent scamps of Scotland the What?, in a live take on Harry Gordon’s ‘Fittie Folk, Kitty Folk’, once cheekily ended a contemporary refrain with, “Harlaw, Pointlaw, Babbie Law and Denis Law”, proof that the reputation of this scrawny blond loon from Printfield is as firmly scorched into the local psyche and folklore as those enduring, immovable, jutting-jawed Aberdeen landmarks. This is all the more impressive considering that apart from his 55 appearances for Scotland, Law’s football career was entirely spent in England and, briefly, Italy. Voice’s David Innes reviews Denis Law: My Life In Football.

I have to admit that I was first disappointed when I picked up My Life In Football. I did not know that it was a pictorial retrospective of Law’s life and career, expecting it to be an update of his previous biography The King.

It is only on the inner frontispiece that the alternative title My Life In Pictures is shown. There is also a Scottish Edition available, although there is no indication how this differs from the edition sent to Voice for review.

Do not let this put you off if you are a fan of the formerly Beautiful Game, however.

Law, in partnership with Ivan Ponting, has selected almost a thousand photographs, ranging from his gawky, bespectacled Kittybrewster schooldays in the late 1940s to contemporary images, showing one of the game’s elder statesmen happy and relaxed in well-deserved retirement.

In between, there are some stunning action images captured by the cream of the world’s sports photographers during football’s golden era. Unfortunately, the photo credits are only given to the image owners in the book’s acknowledgment appendix, as it would provide fellow obsessives with months of joy tracking down and drinking in the magnificent portfolios of the snappers whose work is featured.

Each image has been captioned by Law, and although he and his editor will have had access to historical statistics and tele-visual resources to inform these mini-narratives, there is little doubt that Law’s own memory has played its part in writing the captions.

The detail proves that his memory remains as sharp as those deadly penalty box reflexes were when this legend was the goal area nemesis of rugged, brutish defenders, when football was tough and hard and its physicality celebrated as a challenge to the skilful and brave. One cannot imagine Law ‘simulating’ to gain a penalty under a robust assault by Chopper Harris, Jackie Charlton or Norman Hunter. That would have been an admission of defeat, of weakness, and viewed as an unworthy, cowardly way of gaining a tarnished advantage.

My Life In Football is unashamedly for football fans, so does not set out to philosophise about the game or give deep insights into the consciousness of one of the finest footballers of all time.

The captions, the narrative if you will, are therefore non-controversial and written in the ubiquitous ribbing, deprecating style, an incessant feature of football in dressing rooms at every level in the UK and which are a bit wearing unless you happen to be part of it.

The same can be said of the contributions made by Law’s fellow protagonists in the images, Paddy Crerand, Bobby Charlton, the late George Best and a variety of other teammates and rivals, but behind the mickey-taking, the comments are made with obvious affection and respect for Law’s outrageous ability.

This is a coffee table book, designed for repeated reference, packed with magical memories for those who had the privilege of living through the era when supremely-gifted craftsmen such as Denis Law made football, when it was The People’s Game, exciting, compelling and the best possible release from stupid, stressful reality.

It is also a worthy historical tome which will help inform those who believe that football began with Serie A, La Liga and the Premiership and the out-of-proportion sums of money falsely keeping such structures afloat.

Denis Law: My Life In Football (Scottish-edition)  
Simon and Schuster.
ISBN 978-0-85720-084-6.
250 pages.
£25.