Driving in Scotland

The aggression which meant that the Scottish fighting man played a major role in the establishment and the maintenance of the British Empire, now finds its outlet in driving.  Up in Edinburgh for the Festival, and then the trip across country to sail to Arran, meant that I had plenty of opportunity to see the Scottish driver in full flow.



On motorways, what is properly called the second overtaking lane, or what the rest of the country colloquially calls the fast lane, is to many Scots the driving lane.  Never have I seen so many people get themselves out there, and then refuse to budge.  I saw one muppet drive for 20 miles along the M8 in that lane, and then dive across the other two lanes towards his exit.  Clearly there's a mindset that says, 'They shall not pass'.

In Scottish towns and cities it appears that different rules apply there compared to the rest of the UK.  Indicators are clearly seen as a sign of weakness: generally to be ignored totally, but if the driver is a wimp, to be briefly touched five or ten yards before the turning.

When turning left it is de rigeur to lurch towards the middle of the road in order to give oneself an easier job of making the turn.  Turning right, across the oncoming traffic, simply involves stopping in the road - as previously said, a signal would merely serve as a clue to help other drivers, and is clearly unthinkable.  I swear that some of the stuff I've seen wouldn't seem out of place in a third world country.

As an exiled Scot I love my country, but I'm baffled by why it has chosen to declare its independence from the rest of the UK by first of all changing its driving habits - I would have thought independence first, and then releasing a new Scottish Highway Code would have been more sensible.

As for Transport Scotland, the agency responsible for roads north of the border, it's a remarkable organisation...but more of that next time.

'She was a woman to whom life had been cruel...'

I was introduced to Frida Kahlo's work by Michael Marra's wonderful song about her imagined visit to Dundee's Tay Bridge Bar, and his song also shaped my view of her 'part-time' husband, Diego Rivera.  Yesterday we went to the Pallant House Gallery in Chichester to see the Kahlo / Rivera exhibition.



Knowing nothing of them, I went in with the sterotypical view of Kahlo as mistreated wife and exceptional talent, and Rivera as philandering bastard who did a bit of painting - as Marra puts it, 'a fat man of the naive school'!  Shame on me for knowing so little. 

I learned that Rivera's was undoubtedly the greater talent, but as a muralist his work isn't seen in galleries but on the walls of his native Mexico and in the States - most critics regard him as the greatest Mexican artist of the 20th century (not being an art connoisseur, I don't know how much above being the greatest ping-pong player in South Wonston that is, but it probably means he was pretty good).   I loved his work, from the portraiture through to the Mexican landscapes with huge cacti, and I'd like to see more of his murals.  There was a lovely book about the murals but at £135 it seemed more than a little bit steep.



Kahlo's work was weird but beautiful.  A huge proportion of her work was self portraits and in them she managed to make herself much less beautiful than she was in real life.  Alongside her work with its somewhat simplistic symbolism, were photographs by her one-time lover, Nicholas Murray.  In the photographs the unibrow is less defined, and what often looks to be not far off a moustache in the paintings simply seems to be shadow. 



I loved the way that the curator had resisted the glib opportunity to put Rivera's and Kahlo's paintings side by side, but had opted for separate rooms.  For example, it would have been too obvious to put their respective paintings of Natasha Gelman together and let the viewer compare their styles - far better to absorb each work in its merits and then reflect on the similarities and differences.  That also does Kahlo a favour, because while her work is the more striking, Rivera's picture of Gelman is the more accomplished piece of work (god, that was a bit of a Brian Sewell moment, wasn't it?)  

The rest of the gallery was a joy too, from the Pop Art through to the photographs of Butlin's at Bognor Regis - and the coffee shop was also good.   The best bit for me - maybe even better than the Kahlo / Rivera exhibition, were the Amberley Panels, or more accurately, Joy Gregory's modern take on them.

http://www.joygregory.co.uk/archive/details.php?proj_id=5

She has taken the nine Amberley Panels - 16th century images of strong women, with inscriptions in latin - and done modern versions.  Her photographs are stunning, and the inscriptions in English - I fell in love with them.  It's odd how the most unlikely pieces of art touch different people in very different ways. 




Pallant House Gallery is a great place for a day out, and Tuesday's are half-price which was an unexpected bonus.  It's well worth a visit.

Next week we'll be seeing the inestimable Michael Marra in concert at the 'Embra' Festival - I'm sure he'll do 'Frida Kahlo's visit to the Tay Bridge Bar', and it's bound to be even more evocative following our day out in Chichester.

Fi Glover's new radio show is, like, great

Travelling up to Beirut - sorry, London - earlier this week, I listened to Fi Glover's excellent new radio programme, Generations Apart.  Lovely stuff about people born in 1990 who Glover will follow over the next three years.

There was a guy who was a former drug addict, who had been convicted of assaulting his father - he kicked him in the head - but who came over pretty well.  Some of the interview was quite disturbing, but at least he was lucid.  However, the next woman was at, like, Cambridge and described as being, like, one of the most gifted students of her, like, generation.  Apparently she's also a playwright, which I guess means she, like, writes plays.  I bet her dialogue is, like, annoying.  She may be gifted, but she'll find it difficult to, like, get a job unless she smartens her act up.

Why do people adopt the omniword 'like', and what does it mean?  Is it just an infantile habit like smoking or farting in public, or do they think it makes them sound cool?  The reality is that it's profoundly stupid and deeply irritating - the hope is that it's just a fad and will, like, pass in the fullness of time.

Reaping what you sow

This unpleasant and discredited coalition is reaping the results of what it sowed when it announced, and implemented, swingeing cuts to public services.  The surprise for me is not that we are seeing violence on the streets, but that it took so long to happen.

On one level it's easy: what is happening is disgusting and needs to be stopped, quickly and firmly.  If that means that a few thugs and hooligans get hurt or, heaven forbid, killed, then so be it - go on the rampage, assaulting innocent people and looting shops, and you must expect what's coming to you.  I'm with the police 100% in their efforts to keep the streets safe.

That said, it's easy to understand why communities say, 'we've had enough'.  Unemployment in those London boroughs is way too high, community and youth centres are being closed, EMA has been abolished, and the increase in univeristy fees WILL deter working-class kids.  When the government tells those young people by its actions that it considers them to have no worth, then what future have they got?  Peaceful demonstrations will have no effect on this set of useless leaders, so it's hardly a surprise that they've taken to the streets.

Meanwhile, Cameron, Osborne, and Johnson are nowhere to be seen, and Teresa May is so far out of her depth that she is a national embarrassment.  If there is one ray of sunshine in this - and goodness knows it's hard to spot - it can only be that it might precipitate the fall of this rotten government.

Am I becoming like Victor Meldrew?

I try very hard not to travel by train.  Lots of reasons, most of which are related to previous experiences in the cattle trucks taking commuters to London from Winchester - the first thing I wanted to do after getting home was change and shower to get the city's grime off me.  However, this morning my daughter wanted to travel to Manchester so I had to endure Winchester station.

Two platforms, one person selling tickets, but several automated machines.  Key in the journey from Winchester to Manchester, and up come a number of prices, the cheapest of which is £184.  My daughter says, 'that's not right - I checked online and it's £94'.  So we queue, and wait...and wait...while a number of 'Winchester women' (loud, and without the sense to try to find their credit card before they get to the counter), and OAPs, fumble and stumble through their ticket purchase.  We get to the counter, I ask for a return and...you've guessed it, £94.  Scam or simple incompetence on the part of the railways?  You decide, I have my view.

These are the same idiots who, the last time I bought my daughter a ticket, sold one that wasn't valid the following day, despite me have clearly spelled out that was when she was travelling.  She had to buy another ticket and the evil apparatchiks at South-West Pains plain refused to refund my money despite the problem being the result of their incompetence.  

I hate them, and their rickety over-priced 'services', and despite what I'm told about saving the planet, I'll keep on driving just to ensure I give them as little money as possible.