Bright lights, big city

Late night shopping eh? It takes on a different edge in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Crowds five deep, an air of slight panic among the shoppers – and the shop staff, who are piling on the discounts to get people through the door.

But this is Edinburgh, and the setting is a definite incentive – even if only to find a safe place to stand in order to look at the lights.

Edinburgh has its light switching on evening at the end of November – although I’ve discovered that in fact it has several of these, beyond the one that puts on the lights on the Christmas tree on the Mound.  The Grassmarket has its own; Leith seems to have one too.

But the one I’m looking out for is the star on top of the City Chambers.  It’s of the ‘lots of sticky out lines’ kind of star that you learn to draw when you’re small.

It’s not the most modern or distinctive of items, but I realised the other day that you see the star on the horizon, all the way to the north at the top of Inverleith Row.  This means that you feel slightly like a wise man, ‘following the star’, while on the bus heading to work.

I’m also keen on the ‘bare tree branches covered in lights’ kind of decoration.  Most years, they brighten up the edge of Princes Street.  This year, they’ve added them to trees in St Andrews Square – a sign that someone is determined to keep one of the better redone parks of Edinburgh sleek and beautiful, by night as by day.

But my other favourite Christmas decorations are a little more of the regular shopping track.  They are, again, to be admired on my bus route, this time heading home.

Close to Tesco’s by Broughton Street, there is a car park where you can buy Christmas trees.  That’s not the sight – it’s all the lights strung down the big stone wall by the car park, along with the conveniently placed ivy which grows there all year long.

And just at the bottom of that hill, as the wall stops, there’s a little church building, which looks more like a house, but puts up the most fantastic nativity picture, in a slightly Russian Orthodox style around the eyes of the figures.

Having lived close to there in our previous flat, I’ve had the privilege of looking out for these for around 8 years now, and that’s good enough for a Christmas tradition for me.

Beyond these familiar sights, coming across them means I’m heading home – and for all of the distractions of a big wheel and carousels, back in town, it’s home that’s our favourite sight at this time of year.  Mine, anyway.

 

Golden oldie

When it’s a Friday night, when you want some uncomplicated entertainment, who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!

Dan discovered that three out of four of them at work were very keen on the film, and suggested watching it again last night.  Feeble protest from me.  More, “I’ll get the film ready, then.”

Ghostbusters was probably my first real recollection of a film phenomenon.  Now, with monthly passes for cinemas, or renting recent releases through the telly, it’s harder to get a sense of a big film even, for all of the efforts of bus advertising to make you think so.  My upbringing was one of cinema being a treat, so when you went, you wanted it to be GOOD.

So, what of Ghostbusters?  The first time we tried to see it, we queued round three sides of the block to get in to the cinema – and were turned away, with only 10 people in front of us, because the cinema was full.  That makes it an Event.

Thankfully we persevered and came back another time, without quite such a queue, and were able to get in.  And yes, it was well worth it.

It’s also an early awareness of a film soundtrack being significant.  Part of the continuing to enjoy the film, for me, was listening to the soundtrack again…and again…I even bought it on record, which shows that life and technology has moved on just a tad.

But there’s so much humour and enjoyment in the soundtrack, as well as atmosphere – it does what you want it to, in underpinning and enhancing the story.

Despite 80s fashion reappearing (neon socks anyone? Seemingly very fashionable again), and 80s music being played in shops, watching an 80s film does show you that time does move on.

The amount of casual smoking is a bit of a surprise.  The haircuts are always good for a giggle.  And in a film like Ghostbusters, where a certain amount of ‘kit’ is required for the story, carrying a tape recorder on a strap doesn’t really look like big science any more.

So why watch it?  Because the humour is still good.  It’s fun to be reminded of just how sharp the timing between Bill Murray and Dan Aykroyd is.  The effects are there to make you laugh, the slapstick is there too, but the verbal humour still sings, and not many films even bother with that now.

I rest my case. And my photon accelerator.

Saturday morning sacrament

We don’t go passing round the wafers, if that’s what you are thinking.  But in terms of a Sabbath, as a day of rest, our main shot at resting does seem to coincide with Saturday mornings.  Time to sit with Dan and chat, drink a coffee, unpack the week, hold out a little longer, drink another coffee…

For those with kids, where days of the week start at pretty much the same time every day, I don’t mind if you feel you need to turn away.  It is a bit indulgent still to have this space.  And it’s not so much about not doing as the chance to talk, and say where our thoughts and feelings have been going over the previous few days.

Resting is all about recharging, if you get a shot at it.  Similar to a post about learning to relax, that I wrote a month or two back, it’s about things that are consistently good in enabling you to unwind, and feel better afterwards.  Or be ready to tackle a bit of life again.

Part of the treat, for me at least, is also having some time where there’s nothing written against it, in a real or mental diary.  I need some headspace to explore, to pick things up and put them down again.  These things may not form part of a ‘to do’ list, but that’s their very appeal.

Was remembering about The Idler – can’t quite tell whether it’s now a book, or a blog, or multiples of all of that.  http://idler.co.uk/ – see what you make of it.  But part of what they are talking about is giving yourself time to think, rather than just doing.

For someone like me, who can be fairly said to be a Protestant with a work ethic, it’s invaluable to be reminded to find this space.  I enjoy doing, of various kinds, and I’d never claim we can get through life without doing, but I am certainly thinking more and more that just being is a pretty good pursuit.

When we think back to treasured memories, holidays, that kind of thing, often what we’re remembering is the space to be; to idle; not just to let our mind work out what is really going on, but to allow our heart to be part of that too.

Too much gobbledy-gook?  Well, I’m good at that too.  But along that path, sooner or later, some wisdom comes out, something to help me be happy in my own skin and at peace with God.  I’ll raise a mug of coffee to that.

Back fill

It’s a gardening term, isn’t it?  You dig a trench, and move the soil back into it.

In this case, with Christmas around the virtual furrow, it’s time to back fill some more stories onto the blog, so that there’s something there for people to read when you eventually send them their Yuletide email.

Last year, after getting the laptop, I spent quite a chunk of time filling in the blanks of previous months’ activities, for that very purpose.  This time, I’m filling in the Spring-Summer Hiatus (ooh, there’s some sun out there…somewhere…I’ll not turn the computer on), which isn’t so daunting.  You never know, I might even get Dan to remind me how to add pictures again.

One of the features of this year is not so much back fill as tum fill.  We have started having weekend breakfast options, things to help you feel like you are actually resting, and that take longer to make and eat than you might make time for on a week day.  It feels very peaceful, anyway, building family traditions, that kind of thing.

I should probably add that various of the options have come out of Nigella Express.  But I would add that for some reason, reading about breakfast or brunch options in cookbooks is particularly restful.

One of my early memories of cookbooks for pleasure was managing to borrow an American one from somewhere, where it devoted large sections to the value of breakfast or brunch as a way to do relaxed entertaining.  It even had quotes about food items for breakfast, which your then very literary writer was particularly pleased about.

Summer has brought in the partially frozen banana smoothie – an alternative to filling my freezer with bananas that have gone beyond eating point, without as much effort ask making a banana cake.  Now we’re back to central heating days, the main options are porridge or pancakes – Scotch pancakes, drop scones, you know the ones.

The porridge making started on our Easter holiday, staying in a cottage that had not been visited for a few months.  We needed to be warm AND we needed options for not consuming milk too quickly, being on an island.

Porridge fitted the bill very nicely, particularly with the discovery of adding brown sugar to the top. Crunch vs smoothness.  Even for a child brought up to believe that golden syrup was the real way ahead with porridge, this was a definite discovery.

We have also happily discovered that two people can indeed eat their way through a whole batch of pancakes for brunch, although if they have a guest staying, they will be polite enough to share.  We’ve even invested in a large silicon pancake flipper, when I realised the spatula I’d been using was threatening to become another flavour on the pancake.

Our particular tip is slightly acidic jams to offset the thicker pancake – apricot was particularly good, blackberry also worth considering.  Marmalade can be good, but not as good.  At least with a batch, you have plenty of opportunity to experiment on which toppings work.

So, send in your brunch options, and we’ll even fork through a few, if they’re good.  Avoid overly eggy suggestions, or pass them straight to Dan, who has a better stomach for eggs than me.

But more importantly, start a few food traditions of your own at the weekend, if you haven’t already.  Particularly ones that cause you to linger, and admire the day outside, the person sitting next to you, or simply the notion of slower food as a regular household blessing.

Reading rats and book worms

Sometimes, a title comes to me, and I know I have to use it.  I’ll bung it down in the notebook, waiting for a point at which I can write about it.  And following a holiday to a house whose inhabitants love books just as much as Dan and I, it seems a suitable time.

A reading rat  – Leseratte – is the German equivalent to a bookworm.  It was featured on a set of postcards from the Goethe Institut – they know how to do their advertising, I have to say.  I sent it over to D, who is interested in German at the moment, and rediscovered it in a book, while we were over visiting them.

Shame in a way to choose rats and worms for such things – here are these wonderful things, books, and our way to talk about people who like them is to relate them to animals which are often the source of fear or disgust.  My guess is that there’s probably some implied reference to devouring anything, which probably is true of serious book dependency after a while.

An alternative might be to talk about book fever – the illness that besets one when discovering just how addictive books are.  I’m not just talking ‘can’t put them down’ thrillers.  Even Enid Blyton can hit that craving button, when you are six or seven, and there just aren’t enough hours in the night to read.   Talk about reading yourself into an early pair of glasses, as I did.

They warn you about sweet shops, and fast food stores, but libraries are pushers too. Want one? Why not take six?  In fact, read three in the first day, take them back, and take out another six in addition to the ones you’ve not started yet.

This visit to Italy, both the older girls were getting stuck into books.  The younger of the two is into Geronimo Stilton, mouse detective, whom I can only hope will get translated into English at some point.  The cartoons that go with it are certainly fun.

And I remember my discovery of Asterix at a previous age.  The one thing better than a really good read is the discovery that you’ve only just started the series, and that they are still writing more…

These days, it’s getting harder to let animal instinct take over when it comes to reading.  Time is shorter, and I find that I read several shorter things, rather than start a longer one and have to stop.

I quite fancy the idea of being some kind of reading polar bear – take on enough books to see you through the winter, in the way that they take on enough food supplies to keep going, and then dig yourself into a nice snowdrift (or equivalent) for a few months.

If only they’d let you stay in bed to read during the winter, rather than going to work,  I’m sure we could all achieve fuel efficiency too, because we’d still be warm enough.

If there’s any readers who can comment on what imagery is used for voracious book reading in other languages, would be interested to know. Next week, magazine locusts…