A-hoy – we’re over here

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Kathie Touin and Roscoe on a cold walk in South Walls (image: Graham Brown)

Sometimes it is good to look at life from a different perspective. And that’s what Kathie Touin and I did when we went to Hoy for the weekend.

Hoy is one of the Orkney islands, in fact the largest after Orkney Mainland where we live. We can see the hills of Hoy from our house.

One of the pleasures of living in Orkney is being able to take a short break, or even a day trip, to somewhere that involves ferry travel. A journey over water makes me feel as if I am getting away from it all.

So on Friday morning (it was 3 November, fact-fans) we set off with Roscoe, our Border collie, in Kathie’s Ford. We were only staying three nights but we had enough clothes for several days and plenty of food – we heard just before leaving that Hoy’s Stromabank Hotel was not open for evening meals on this particular weekend.

The ferry port you need in Orkney depends where you are going and which company you are travelling with. By my calculation on Orkney Mainland there are three different departure points for journeys to the Scottish Mainland, and then a further four ports for journeys within Orkney. These “internal” journeys are operated by Orkney Ferries, in effect a subsidiary of Orkney Islands Council.

For our journey to Lyness in Hoy we departed from Orkney Mainland’s Houton ferry terminal, sailing across Scapa Flow which was the main anchorage for the Royal Navy in both world wars.

There is an excellent naval museum at Lyness but we were not visiting on this trip because, like many Orkney tourist attractions, it closed at the end of October. In fact, it will remain shut for all of next year while it receives a major revamp.

So, after checking the second-hand books at Lyness ferry terminal (take your pick, donations to the RNLI, Kathie chose two) we turned right and headed towards the hills of North Hoy which we can see from our house.

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The author and Roscoe at the Dwarfie Stane, Hoy (image: Kathie Touin)

Kathie had never managed to get to the Dwarfie Stane so that was our first visit. It is truly remarkable, it appears to be a Neolithic tomb, but it is hollowed out from a huge solid piece of rock. How long it would take someone – or some people – to do that with stone tools I cannot imagine.

The reverberation inside the stone particularly impressed Kathie. Roscoe posed for a photograph sitting inside the entrance.

Next stop was to the splendid Emily’s Ice-Cream Parlour and Wild Heather Crafts, a short drive around Mill Bay from the Lyness ferry terminal. You might imagine it is a little cold for ice cream in November but Emily also serves lovely lunches and all-day breakfasts. The cafe is open on Fridays and Saturdays out of season – something we welcomed, as we returned for lunch again the next day.

Then we took a leisurely drive south to our weekend accommodation. We told everyone we were going to Hoy for the weekend though we were, technically, staying in South Walls, a neighbouring island that is joined to Hoy by a road causeway.

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Late afternoon in November at one of the lovely beaches in South Walls (image: Graham Brown)

South Walls is very different from North Hoy – much flatter, more reminiscent of the rolling countryside where we live.

Our first stop was at the shop in Longhope, J M F Groat & Sons, next to the harbour in which Longhope lifeboat is moored. This shop seems to have everything – food, drink, newspapers, a Post Office, washing machines for sale, and delightful knitted hats in animal shapes (Kathie bought two).

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The beach and cemetery at Kirk Hope bay, South Walls, a short walk from our weekend accommodation (image: Graham Brown)

From the windows and gardens of our lovely self-catering accommodation, Old Hall Cottage, we could see a range of Orkney islands – Hoy, of course, Fara, Flotta, Switha and South Ronaldsay – and the Scottish Mainland.

We could also watch many ships passing by. The smartphone app MarineTraffic was really useful for identifying vessels, sometimes on long journeys across Europe.

So, here we were just a short distance as the crow flies from our home, but across the water and with a completely different perspective. Very refreshing.

We spent the rest of the weekend relaxing in our accommodation, eating and drinking, talking to friends who joined us for the first night, and walking with Roscoe.

Our dog particularly enjoyed the beaches – there was one a short stride from our house – and we also explored the remains of a World War Two radar and guns site.

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Longhope lifeboat memorial (image: Graham Brown)

Just below Old Hall Cottage, just above the beach, is a cemetery with a wonderful memorial to the eight men lost in the Longhope lifeboat disaster in March 1969 – it is a statue of an alert lifeboat crew member stepping forward as if he is about to respond to a call. Just outside the cemetery is an informative display about the events of that awful night nearly 50 years ago.

We ran out of time on our weekend for the Longhope Lifeboat Museum – that must be top of the list for next time. However, earlier in the year we saw the musem’s lifeboat at Stromness (see previous blog entry).

But that’s Orkney – always something more to do.

Graham Brown

Postscript one

You might remember from my previous blog entry that I was elected to Harray and Sandwick Community Council. I am pleased to report the first meeting was fine except afterwards I fell over a kerb in the dark as I was walking back to my car. I might raise the subject of lighting at the next meeting!

Postscript two

It’s a busy time of the year for Quoyloo Old School, where Kathie and I are on the committee. Thank you to everyone who made Saturday’s Harvest Home such a brilliant success, what a fantastic turn-out. We are lucky to still have this traditional event taking place each year in our village. Coming up on Friday 24 November is the next quiz night, all are welcome whether you have a team or not, 7 for 7.30pm.

Postscript three

The RSPB’s motto is “giving nature a home”. I think they may be taking this too literally. We recently had some RSPB bird food delivered. A couple of days later Kathie was unfolding some of the brown paper packing material on our counter top when a mouse appeared to hop out. Could this be correct? The paper had not been chewed. Do mice hibernate, or sleep for long periods? We then spent a few days setting humane traps from which the mouse was able to steal the food without getting trapped. Was it underweight after its journey to Orkney in the box? Thankfully, the fourth triggered trap did contain the mouse which we were able to release outside (but not near the house).

Speaking of the RSPB, you can find out what the charity has been doing in the past year in Orkney at King Street Halls, Kirkwall on Thursday 23 November. The meeting, “A year in Orkney”, begins at 7.30pm. All are welcome, members and non-members, admission is free.

To find out more

http://www.oldhallcottage.co.uk/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoy

http://www.orkneyferries.co.uk/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dwarfie_Stane

https://en-gb.facebook.com/wildheathercrafts/

http://www.longhopelifeboat.org.uk/museum/

https://en-gb.facebook.com/Old-School-Quoyloo-462982410411472/

https://www.rspb.org.uk/

https://www.facebook.com/rspborkney

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Hello again

Now, where were we? Oh yes, writing a blog, at least one a month is my self-imposed rule. I see I published a blog each month until, oh, there was no blog in June. But there was one in July and then – err, nothing since. So, it is time to get this blog back on track. Oh to be like our neighbour Sarah Norquoy who writes something like eight blogs a month (well worth reading, by the way).

Since mid-July I have been either working full-time or showing three sets of visitors around Orkney. I took early retirement before moving to Orkney in April 2010 and I found full-time work pretty exhausting. That said, they are a good crowd at the RSPB office in Orkney and I do enjoy spending time with them.

Anyway, here we are again – what do I have to tell you?

Welcoming visitors to Orkney in July and August was a reminder of why my wife Kathie Touin and I moved to Orkney. There is so much to see, beautiful islands to visit by ferry, lots of history (including neolithic, Viking, both world wars), wildlife, empty beaches and wonderful people.

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Statues in the grounds of Trumland House, Rousay (image: Graham Brown)

Trips with our friends included two visits to the island of Hoy, which have prompted Kathie and I to book a weekend trip there in November in order to see more. One day we sailed to Rousay and enjoyed a picnic in the grounds of Trumland House in the rain and midges – but we enjoyed it. Incidentally, if you are thinking of visiting Orkney, please do, and be reassured that midges are not usually a big problem.

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Kitchener Memorial, Marwick Head (image: Graham Brown)

We visited the beautiful St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall and the small but packed and fascinating Orkney Wireless Museum. We discovered more about neolithic times at the amazing Ness of Brodgar dig where pre-history is being re-written, and we looked at the memorial wall bearing the names of 737 men lost with HMS Hampshire in 1916, unveiled last year next to the Kitchener Memorial.

And we took the family of three who stayed with us to experience West Mainland Show in Dounby, not far from where we live, the second biggest agricultural show in the county. It is a great social occasion.

Having visitors is a good way of making you look up – both literally and figuratively – to appreciate what you have. One day we drove to our house from Stromness, a nine-mile journey I take when I return from the RSPB office. “Graham, this is a wonderful commute,” said my friend as we drove through the countryside and past Stenness Loch. He is right.

Other recent highlights for Kathie and me, though not with our visitors, include the Stromness Lifeboat 150th anniversary event and the HMS Tern open day.

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Stromness Lifeboat, Longhope Lifeboat Museum vessel, Longhope Lifeboat and Thurso Lifeboat in Stromness Harbour (image: Graham Brown)

Living so close to the sea really makes me appreciate the sterling work done by lifeboat crews, and those in their on-shore back-up teams, and all voluntarily. Orkney is big on charity fund-raising and, as you might imagine, the RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institution) is one of the top priorities.

Orkney has three lifeboats – Stromness, Kirkwall and Longhope, Hoy. In 2019, no doubt, there will be moving commemorative events to mark the 50th anniversary of the Longhope lifeboat disaster when the TGB capsized and all eight crew were lost.

At the Stromness event four lifeboats were on display – Stromness, Thurso (from across the Pentland Firth in mainland Scotland), Longhope (current) and the vessel from Longhope Lifeboat Museum.

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Control tower at HMS Tern airfield (image: Graham Brown)

HMS Tern is a former Second World War airbase, also known as RNAS (Royal Naval Air Station) Twatt, which is only a couple of miles from our house. Tours of the site are available and some of the remaining buildings are being restored. This will include, in time, the control tower. The open day was a chance to see progress and, of course, another social occasion to meet friends.

Meanwhile Kathie remains busy with her music: teaching piano, taking guitar lessons, writing, and recording both her own music and guests in her Starling Recording Studio.

Otherwise we try to do our bit, volunteering for the RSPB (as well as my paid part-time office work) and as Managers, or committee members, for our village community centre, Quoyloo Old School.

Events at the Old School include a monthly quiz to which all are welcome. The next ones are 20 October and 24 November. And we have Harvest Home on 11 November.

Coming up, I have a new challenge.

I was persuaded to stand for the Harray and Sandwick Community Council by Edith, a village stalwart who is standing down from the council after 30 years. I was flattered to be asked and, it turns out I have been “elected” – eight people stood for eight places so we all get on. My first meeting is due to be in early November so wish me luck.

Graham Brown

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Rainbow, with faint second rainbow, seen from the track to our house – which is behind you (image: Graham Brown)

To find out more

Sarah Norquoy’s blog – https://norqfromork.com/

HMS Hampshire – http://hmshampshire.org/

Stromness Lifeboat – http://www.stromnesslifeboat.org.uk/station-history.html

Longhope Lifeboat – http://www.longhopelifeboat.org.uk/

HMS Tern – http://hmstern.co.uk/

BBC Radio Orkney In Conversation – Robbie Fraser speaks to Cecilia Pemberton and Walter Crosby about life in the Second World War at HMS Tern –

RSPB Orkney – https://www.facebook.com/rspborkney

Quoyloo Old School – https://en-gb.facebook.com/Old-School-Quoyloo-462982410411472/

Kathie Touin – http://www.kathietouin.com/

PS For a blast of nostalgia, and a demonstration of how radio should be done, try this show I have just listened to: Alan Freeman’s last Saturday Rock Show for BBC Radio 1 from 1978…

12 days in northern Italy

I aim to write a monthly blog. What with one thing and another, notably lots of disruption at home with workmen, and being at work, my planned June blog is appearing now at the end of July. Here goes…

On 7 June Mrs Brown (Kathie Touin) and I embarked on our first overseas trip – excluding visits to see family in (kind of) English-speaking California and Arizona – for more than 10 years.

In preparation for our expedition Kathie was busy learning some Italian on a smartphone app. Kathie also worked hard to find our accommodation and read lots of guide books. My contribution was to throw in a few ideas now and then.

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View from our window in Bologna’s Hotel Paradise (image: Graham Brown)

We stayed in Bologna, the capital city of the Emilia-Romagna region in northern Italy, in the wonderfully-named Hotel Paradise. Very good it was too, helpful staff and in a good location for walking to the many ancient churches, historic attractions and shops – even the railway station was only about 20 minutes’ walk through attractive architecture.

I will not take you on a blow-by-blow, day-by-day account of the trip, and everything we saw, – phew! – but here are some themes that struck me.

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The 12th century Two Towers of Bologna – due torri (image: Graham Brown)

Elegant, cool and medieval – with graffiti

Bologna is a large city but the central historic and shopping areas are reasonably compact. Though temperatures reached as high as 35 C while we there – 95 F to Americans – we stayed reasonably cool thanks to the architecture. The city is blessed with miles, or, should I say, kilometres, of porticoes – arched colonnades covering the pavements (American: sidewalks) – which allow one to walk around in the shade.

The city has some fantastic medieval, Renaissance and baroque architecture – numerous churches, civic buildings and the two towers (due torri) reputedly dating from the 12th century.

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Some of Bologna’s graffiti makes a serious point, in this case about Syria (image: Graham Brown)

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And some of the graffiti is humorous – this reminded us of Roscoe back home (image: Graham Brown)

We noticed that graffiti seems to be tolerated. And by graffiti I do not mean the usual crude scribblings of names and swear words, but some fantastic pieces of art, some comic, some supporting political causes.

The city had, to me, a relaxed atmosphere with outside eating areas for most cafes and restaurants (like so much of continental Europe), and elegant-looking residents, even while riding their numerous bicycles, mopeds and scooters.

Monuments

Bologna, like all European cities, has its fair share of monuments and statues. Among the more unusual ones, to my eyes, was a large monument to partisans who fought the Nazi and Fascist occupiers towards the end of the Second World War – it was made up of numerous small photographs of the individuals involved.

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On the left, the many photographs of Italian partisans who fought the Nazis – it seems appropriate that young people are relaxing in the sunshine (image: Graham Brown)

A war memorial for Italians lost in both world wars, inside the Santo Stefano complex of churches, struck me as interesting as it listed those lost on both sides of the conflict.

But I think I was most touched – perhaps with recent events in London and Manchester in my mind – by monuments to the 85 who died in the Fascist bombing of Bologna railway station in 1980.

There is a glass panel in the Piazza del Nettuno listing all the names of those who died in the attack (and in two other outrages). There are further memorials at the station itself including the clock stopped at 10.25, the time of the attack.

We also visited a photographic exhibition, housed in a wonderful underground exhibition space, containing 500 photographs of Bologna’s history as well as film – including the chilling visit of Italian dictator Mussolini to the city.

One room of the exhibition was entirely devoted to the station bombing. A constantly evolving montage of photographs was projected onto the walls of the circular room, along with the sound of emergency services radio conversations. It was very moving – literally and emotionally.

Musica

Music, or musica as the Italians say, featured in our trip.

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Kathie Touin in Museo internazionale e biblioteca della musica (image: Graham Brown)

We went to two fascinating museums – one of historic keyboard instruments, the other was Museo internazionale e biblioteca della musica – it features Bologna’s collection of musical manuscripts, books, sculptures, paintings and instruments. The origins of the collection are an 18th century Franciscan friar, Father Giovanni Battista Martini, who numbered Mozart among his students.

We also enjoyed live music. We attended two brilliant piano recitals held in the Oratorio di Santa Cecilia, appropriately the patron saint of music. Stand up, and take another standing ovation, Enrico Elisi and Benedetta Conte, fabulous performers both.

And we went to Teatro Duse for a production of Gershwin’s Crazy For You musical. The songs were sung in English, the conversations were in Italian but we had read the plot outline beforehand so we could follow the story.

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The poster for Crazy For You – a fabulous show starring Manuel Frattini

The show featured Manuel Frattini who, judging by the audience reaction, is something of a star. And rightly so. He is an old-fashioned song-and-dance man who can sing, dance and be physically funny – Kathie said he reminded her of Gene Kelly.

It was an uplifting evening – enough to make you forget how hot the theatre was – with wonderful staging, dancing, singing and comedy.

Trains and Ferraris – vroom…

We spent 13 nights in Bologna so we had 12 days to be out and about. There was so much to see in Bologna that we never got round it all, bearing in mind we had to stop for coffees, ice creams and meals.

But we took three day trips out of the city by train, to visit Modena, Venice and Florence.

You will have read and watched much about Venice and Florence so I will not go into detail on those – just to mention that in Venice, on an overcast day, we were caught in an Orkney-style storm of heavy rain and strong winds. We sheltered in a passageway and the storm soon passed, our clothes were just about dry by the time we left this strange city.

The main purpose of our visit to Modena was to see the Enzo Ferrari House Museum, one of two Ferrari museums in the region (the other is at their Modena factory). There were some beautiful and ruinously expensive cars on display, both racing and road examples.

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Kathie Touin choosing a Ferrari to take home (image: Graham Brown)

I have to say I find modern so-called “super cars” not to my taste but the classic Ferraris on display were a joy to behold. By the way, if anyone is short of ideas for next Christmas, Kathie would like a Ferrari Dino.

Our train journeys were smooth, comfortable and on time, apart from a delay departing Venice because the above-mentioned storm had caused flooding on the line. The regional train services are not expensive either – our journey to Modena, and back, for both of us, admittedly only about 30 minutes each way, cost less than £15, and we did not have to pay in advance or trawl websites for a cheap deal.

Our trip to Venice – about two hours each way – cost about £50 for both of us. We travelled upstairs in a double-decker coach.

However, our trip to Florence was more expensive. We did not get to Bologna railway station until mid-morning, only to discover all the second-class seats were taken. So we had to travel first class – this, and the fact that the service was operated by a high-speed train, made it much more expensive, more than £70 for both of us one way.

Never mind, we enjoyed travelling in first class (though the second-class return was perfectly fine) and being on a high-speed train, even though most of the route was in tunnels.

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Slightly fuzzy night-time photo at Bologna railway station but on this train we travelled at 186mph – Kathie shows off her Florence shopping in an Orkney Maeshowe bag (image: Graham Brown)

On the return from Florence to Bologna we noticed that the passenger information displays were, at times, showing the train’s speed. We reached 299kph, which I calculate to be 186mph. I think this is a land speed record for both Kathie and me. The 67-mile journey took 31 minutes from the wheels starting to roll at Florence to standstill in Bologna. Wow. Incidentally, the ride was smooth with little impression of such speed.

What else?

General Election

The first day we spent in Bologna was also the day of the General Election back home in the UK. I do not think I have ever been abroad for a General Election before so we made sure we voted by post before leaving Orkney.

On the Thursday night I watched BBC World for several hours to follow the election results coming in. It was a strange election in many ways, made stranger for me because I was watching from afar.

Swifts

One of the notable sights – and sounds – of Bologna at the time of our visit was the hundreds of screeching swifts flying high above the city. It was wonderful to see these acrobatic birds, which even sleep on the wing, and to think of them heading back to Africa after their breeding season.

For us, we returned to the cooler weather of Orkney – but since being home we have been delighted to see the swallows nesting in our garage fledge four young.

Graham Brown

To find out – and see – more

More of my photographs on Instagram (no log-in required) – https://www.instagram.com/grahambrownorkney/

Guide to Bologna – http://www.bolognawelcome.com/en/

Wikipedia on Bologna – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bologna

The 1980 bombing of Bologna railway station – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bologna_massacre

Museo internazionale e biblioteca della musica di Bologna – http://www.museibologna.it/musica

Wikipedia on Museo internazionale e biblioteca della musica – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Museo_internazionale_e_biblioteca_della_musica

Website of pianist Enrico Elisi – www.enricoelisi.com/

An earlier performance by Benedetta Conte –

RSPB website on swifts – http://www.rspb.org.uk/birds-and-wildlife/bird-and-wildlife-guides/bird-a-z/s/swift/index.aspx

Writing about writing

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Orkney Nature Festival banner (image: RSPB Scotland/Orkney Nature Festival)

Orkney is big on festivals. You name it, and we seem to have a festival for it. Some are big, well-established events in the diary – notably Orkney Folk Festival, which starts tomorrow (25 May), and the St Magnus International Festival, an arts event in June. Both of these bring many visitors to the county each year.

But we also have festivals for wine, jazz, blues, rock, storytelling, drama and science – and I am sure I will have missed at least one out – plus numerous events which, while not called festivals, might loosely come under that category.

Then there is the Orkney Nature Festival, established in 2013, co-ordinated by RSPB Scotland in conjunction with a number of local groups, partners and volunteers.

Mrs Brown (Kathie Touin) and I attend some of the nature festival events each year and so last week I found myself helping to write a collaborative poem. This confirmed me in an early career choice. Let me explain.

The event was billed as “Poetry and pilgrimage: exploring the St Magnus Way with the George Mackay Brown Fellowship and Orkney Pilgrimage”.

Writing this blog reminds me of the number of aspects of Orkney life we can take for granted and that might need explaining to a wider audience. So, St Magnus is Orkney’s patron saint and this year the 900th anniversary of his death is being commemorated by, among other events, the creation of a pilgrimage route, the St Magnus Way. George Mackay Brown, who died in 1996, is one of Orkney’s best known and favourite writers. Wikipedia says: “He is considered one of the great Scottish poets of the 20th century.”

Leading the poetry and pilgrimage event were writer Yvonne Gray, of the George Mackay Brown Fellowship, and Rev David McNeish, Chair of Orkney Pilgrimage, and our local minister.

Now, I cannot give you a detailed explanation without getting it wrong but we were there to write a renga, a Japanese form of collaborative poem. The event was fun and fascinating – and, I felt, good for my brain cells to be stretched in a different way.

Yvonne wrote the first verse and then we all came up with suggestions for the following lines and development. We started with spring and then worked through the seasons until our five-verse poem concluded back in spring.

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Brough of Birsay seen from Birsay Bay (image: Graham Brown)

We worked over the course of a day spent in Birsay, starting with a walk from the village past St Magnus Kirk to the coastline at the bottom of the graveyard, where David talked about Magnus’ life and example. Then we walked round Birsay Bay towards the Brough of Birsay, completed the first section sitting outside, before retiring out of the wind back in the kirk to complete our work.

When we had finished I noticed that very few of my suggestions had been incorporated, even though we were a small group of eight. This is not a complaint or a criticism – I thought Yvonne was thoughtful, inclusive and inspiring – but an observation. I think I am literal rather than artistic.

It reminded me of another event I attended in Orkney a few years ago, where each of us in the group went to the coast, found a place to sit down with our sketch pad, and were asked to “draw what we hear”. So, I heard a gull, for example, and drew a simple gull. I heard a tractor, and drew an outline of that.

Afterwards I discovered others in the group had interpreted this task in an artistic, not a literal, way, and come up with rather interesting abstract paintings.

So my decision back in 1977, after an abortive flirtation with town planning, to become a journalist was the correct one. Getting some words down in roughly the right order, reflecting accurately what people have to say, and often working against the clock, this was what I did – but artistic flair was not required, thank you.

My first job as a reporter was with the Lynn News and Advertiser, a twice-weekly newspaper based in King’s Lynn and covering West Norfolk. It was an ideal start to my career – friendly, helpful and knowledgeable colleagues and, because it was not a weekly, a greater sense of urgency with more deadlines to meet.

I recall that on more than one occasion I was at an important court case which was in progress, or had concluded, as the newspaper was approaching its final deadlines. So I had to go to a phone box – remember those? – and, with only my shorthand notes in front of me, dictate the story down the line to a colleague sat at a typewriter – remember those?

Of course, the sub-editors in the office could tidy up my hastily assembled words but I had to get the salient facts in place first time. It certainly concentrated the mind.

All that said, I think a few of the lines I came up with at the nature festival event are worth repeating, though they may not make much sense out of context. Remember, we were writing about the seasons in Orkney…

“Sand martins dart along the coast
Building home and new lives”

“Visitors – flying, swimming, walking –
Feathered, blubbered, backpacked,
Congregate at the home shore we love”

“The birds depart
The visitors dwindle
The days shorten”

“Books with many-coloured jackets
Sit on shelves, ready to tell tales of Orkney
Inspiring schoolchildren, visitors – and me”

Graham Brown

To find out more

http://www.orkneynaturefestival.org/

https://magnus900.co.uk/

https://www.stmagnusway.com/

http://gmbfellowship.org.uk/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Mackay_Brown

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renga

http://www.orkney.com/about/culture/other-festivals

http://www.northlinkferries.co.uk/orkney-blog/festivals-in-orkney/

http://www.orkneyfolkfestival.com/

http://www.stmagnusfestival.com/

I’m only dreaming

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Heading into dreamland (image: http://www.freeimages.co.uk)

Dreaming. What do we mean by this? Planning an ideal future? Day dreaming on a sunny afternoon about happy memories? A longing to be somewhere else? That strange activity we undertake at night-time? Something else altogether?

There are many songs about dreams. Most, if not all, of the ones I know are about night-time dreaming – but not the kind I experience. My dreams, at least those I remember, are a confused jumble of experiences which make little sense at all. More of that later.

Whereas songs about dreaming are typically about a dream woman (or sometimes man). Typically the singer (or songwriter) will have met and won somebody fantastic, or hopes to meet such a person, or did meet but was ignored by such a person, or lost – or fears losing – such a person through break-up or death.

The many examples include: All I Have To Do Is Dream performed by The Everly Brothers; Dreaming by Buddy Holly (written by Buddy for, but not recorded by, The Everly Brothers); Dreams by Fleetwood Mac; These Dreams by Heart; Daydream Believer by The Monkees; Sweet Dreams Baby by Roy Orbison; Talking In Your Sleep by Crystal Gayle; and Dream Lover by Bobby Darin and Mr Sandman by The Chordettes.

Other songs about dreaming, but on a different topic, include Dreamweaver by Gary Wright which is, I think, more about the activity of dreaming, California Dreamin’ by The Mamas and The Papas, about missing the warmth of California, and Number 9 Dream by John Lennon, which was apparently written in a dream.

But perhaps my favourite dream song is Joe Brown’s rendition of I’ll See You In My Dreams, a 1924 song written by Isham Jones and Gus Kahn, and performed by many artists over the last 90 years. I have seen Joe Brown perform the song in concert on a number of occasions. Incidentally, if you ever spot that Joe is due to appear at a venue near you, do go along, he is a fantastic guitarist, singer and entertainer – country, rock, blues, folk, gospel, you will get it all, and some bad jokes…

Joe Brown also performed I’ll See You In My Dreams, accompanying himself on ukulele, as the finale of Concert For George, a George Harrison tribute event in 2002 (Joe and George were friends and neighbours). Which shows that you can use one of these boy-meets/loses-girl songs for a completely different purpose.

But, as I indicated, my actual dreams – and I suspect most people’s dreams – are nothing like that at all, although loved ones do appear in them from time to time. Nor do I do anything useful such as write songs in my dreams as, apparently, John Lennon did when he wrote Number 9 Dream or Paul McCartney when he woke with the tune for Yesterday in his head.

Some folk believe dreams to have meanings and invest great energy into reading or analysing them. Personally I think dreams might indicate something very general, such as anxiety, but otherwise they seem to me to be your brain shuffling through recent and more distant experiences – perhaps a little like someone shuffling several decks of cards at once, with each deck having different illustrations on the reverse, so the packs become confused.

I have noticed three recurring themes in my dreams: frequent journeys through a townscape, in a car or a bus; appearances by my father (not surprising as he died just over a year ago); and becoming a journalist again (something I did for real from the late Seventies to the mid-Eighties) – although in recent weeks some dreams have taken me back, in a very confused way, to the BBC, where I worked from 1986 to 2010.

Anyway, here are some of my recent dreams. My recollections of them are pretty vague but this is the best I can do despite making an effort to remember them. If you think these extracts show me to be mad, sad or bad I would be grateful if you could keep this to yourself and not say so in the comments section of this blog!

1. The musician Joe Brown (as above) and our neighbour trying to raise something from sea. I believe I am trying to help.

2. I am in a modern department store. While I am there it turns into a store from the Second World War era. I am there as a reporter, I meet a man, apparently the owner, with a double or even a triple-barelled name, who speaks about changing the store into an old-fashioned look because of Brexit. My father turns up at the end of the dream.

3. In the back seat of car travelling at night, urging my father – the driver – to turn because he has failed to see the entrance to our house and an oncoming cyclist. The incident seems to be in slow motion and fades away without resolution. Then I am driving my Volkswagen Lupo along country roads trying to put a giant black key into the ignition. A little later, I am with my mother and someone else (not my father, I think) in a house waiting for one of my aunts and other people to arrive for dinner.

4. I am out with my wife, Kathie Touin, we decide to go for an ice cream dessert before a theatre trip but I have with me a sauce made from salad cream which will not go with ice cream. Then Kathie wants a restaurant meal with garlic so – instead of looking for, perhaps, an Italian restaurant – we search for a shop selling garlic. Out on a country road, we see two friends with their children in a car watching or listening to the singer Marti Webb – one of our friends in the car describes Marti Webb as the woman who played The Queen in the film (in reality, Helen Mirren).

5. I am due to be presenting a live programme for BBC Radio 2, helped by a former BBC colleague (I should say that when I was at the BBC I was not involved in production or presentation, though many years ago I was a hospital radio presenter in Peterborough, Radio 5, and King’s Lynn, Radio Lynn). My colleague plays CDs on-air while I trawl through the CDs in my collection but never find what I am looking for. Eventually my colleague leaves and I sit at the presentation desk only to discover I cannot make it work.

Make of that what you will.

By the way, I have noticed another phenomenon sometimes which is a state somewhere between sleep and waking. It might be just after waking up or, perhaps more often, as I go back to sleep after waking briefly in the night. I am still awake, and conscious of my surroundings, but into my mind comes an apparently random stream of surreal and disconnected images. Is it just me?

Well, there we are, confessions of a dreamer. I wonder what tonight will bring?

Graham Brown

To find out more

Joe Brown’s website

Thank you freeimages.co.uk for the photograph at the top of this blog entry.

One year later: more thoughts about my father

One year ago today, which happened to be Easter Day, my father Clive Brown died aged 82 in the early hours of the morning. I have written about this in three previous blogs – “48 Hours: my father and I“, “48 Hours: postscript” and “That Was The Year That Was“. But, if you will indulge me, I have a few more thoughts to offer on this poignant anniversary.

It is a truism to say that time passes more quickly as one gets older but the past year seems to have raced along. Perhaps it is to do with being “over the hill”, a phrase meaning past one’s best which is not heard so much these days (maybe because I am older people whisper the words out of my earshot). Anyway, if I am “over the hill” and careering out of control down the other side that might explain time rushing by.

In a previous blog – “It wouldn’t be a show without Punch” – I recorded some of my late mother’s expressions but I would also like to recall a few of my father’s favourite sayings.

mumanddad 001

One of my favourite photographs of my parents, Mary & Clive Brown

Two of his regulars were “muck or nettles” and “all hair and teeth”. The first means “all or nothing”, though I have no idea why, and the second indicates a particularly lively situation, for example, a frantic and barely-under-control football match.

He also liked to refer to a situation being “a right schmozzle”, meaning chaotic. I understand schmozzle is of Hebrew or Yiddish origin and I once surprised an Israeli work colleague when, without thinking, I used the word. I don’t know where my father got it from, perhaps it was common parlance when he was young or perhaps he picked it up during his National Service in the Army.

When I was a small child my father sang in a male voice choir and he continued to enjoy choral music throughout his life. But his favourite genre was West End, Broadway and film musicals. He loved going to see musicals and I chose the Prologue, or Carousel Waltz, from Carousel, performed by the John Wilson Orchestra, as the music at the end of his funeral service. He also loved watching this orchestra when they appeared on TV from the BBC Proms.

I used to reflect how a few years’ difference in date of birth could have made a big difference to my slightly old-fashioned, though fairly enlightened, father. He was born in August 1933. Less than 18 months later, in January 1935, along came Elvis Presley and just five years or so after that John Lennon was born. They helped pioneer a form of music which largely passed my father by.

But, of course, it is not just when we are born which governs what we like or dislike. The society and family around us, our own peculiar tastes, are probably more important. Being born a few years later would not have made my father a rocker.

He was a big consumer of TV programmes, particularly live football (especially Arsenal) and political programmes.

In terms of reading, it was mostly biographies and autobiographies (of historical, political, newspaper and sporting characters) and railway books – but definitely not fiction. Fiction was something of a blindspot for my father, he could not see the point of reading made-up stories when there were so many real stories to read.

I would like to close with some passages from one of the letters I received after my father died last year. You may know that his last job before retirement was Editor of the Spalding Guardian and of the Lincolnshire Free Press, two local newspapers in Spalding, South Holland (south Lincolnshire) which were effectively operated as a twice-weekly.

The letter I have in mind came from someone who was a journalist in the same company, but not at the same newspaper. She made some fascinating observations in her thoughtful and heartfelt letter.

Not everything she wrote struck me as true but we all have different experiences of people – for example, she felt he was reluctant to allow others “access to his treasure of experience and talent.” I would have thought differently, but I did not work for or with him.

But among her observations which ring true about his approach to journalism and work…

“Clive’s often inscrutable responses were a breath of fresh air when set against sometimes fawning contributions from individuals desperate to succeed in the cut-throat world of print publishing.”

“He did not suffer fools and hilariously described one [company] director, for whom he had no time whatsoever, as ‘Being at the back of the queue when couth was handed out’.”

“He consummately detested all things ‘corporate’…”

“He largely loathed”… “experimental promotional ideas”.

“His talent as a shrewd and eloquent newsman always shone brightly.”

“Unquestionably his own man, he commanded the Spalding Guardian by the shrewd application of qualities that made newspapers successful at the time: honesty, integrity and accuracy delivered with a genuine attempt at social responsibility and true reader value.”

Graham Brown

The land of the windmills (a fairy story by Graham Brown)

Alternative wind energy

A windmill – or wind turbine (image: http://www.freeimages.co.uk)

Once upon a time there was – but, wait, why do fairy stories start like this? Upon a time, what does that mean? A time? What time? Which time?

Anyway, many years ago there was a land far away in the north called Yenkro. Well, I say, many years ago, but that depends when you are reading this story. It might be many years ago to you or it could be in the future, or about now.

And this land far away in the north – that wasn’t how the people who lived there saw it. Oh no. They thought, quite rightly, that they lived at the centre of the universe and other places, such as London, or Moscow, or Los Angeles, or Hobart were far away, remote even. Well, Hobart is remote, but you get the idea.

This land had much going for it – friendly people, lovely scenery, wildlife, a history to be proud of, some lovely food and drink, even sunshine on special days. In fact, it was so good that many visitors travelled long distances to see it.

One of the Yenkro folk was a farmer called Derek. This is not his real name, but that is true for everyone who appears in this story – no-one is using their real name. This made it very confusing for everyone involved, trying to remember all these not-real names.

Yenkro had something else going for it which not everyone saw as a benefit – lots of wind. It was sufficient wind, and often enough, to make some folk move away to calmer shores. Some visitors felt the cold of the wind chill and decided this was not somewhere they wanted to live.

But the wind could be harnessed to make giant windmills go round and, with some technical jiggery-pokery, which Derek’s friend Alan knew all about, the windmills could in turn produce electricity. And, best of all, although no-one had ever seen any of this electricity, there was money to be made from it.

It was all to do with some government policies agreed by the Bigwigs. There were Bigwigs in the Big Smoke, which was hundreds of miles from Yenkro in the south-east of Big South  Island, and there were other Bigwigs in Auld Reekie, which was a little closer but still on Big South Island and not somewhere you could pop over to easily.

These Bigwigs argued over many things, for example, who had the biggest wigs, who had the rights to wear them, where the wigs had come from, who should pay for them, who could decide what to do about the wigs in the future, or even whether wigs from both places would be needed in the future.

But out of all this confusion it had been agreed that folk with big windmills which produced surplus electricity could be given some money. And, naturally, this interested Derek.

Of course, Derek was not alone and soon his neighbours Irene, Brian and Mac – indeed many people right across Yenkro – had built these windmills and, on a windy day, they made a fine sight as the blades powered around. Sometimes it was so windy they had to be locked to stop the blades turning too quickly.

But the day came when it was suddenly, unexpectedly, very windy. No-one who had windmills had time to stop the blades – in fact, so great was the wind, that to stand up outside you had to grip the side of a building. Even then it was impossible to walk into the wind.

Fortunately, Derek was by the back door at the time. His two children, Christine and John, both young teenagers, were in the garden and were blown over. By crawling across the lawn, they were able to reach Derek at the back door. They went in and forced the door shut against the oncoming strength of the wind.

Derek thought he should ring his wife, Elaine, at her office but his mobile had no signal and the landline was dead.

And, then, it happened. It was almost imperceptible at first. But to those who noticed, while the wind kept up as fast as ever, they felt a drop in air pressure. And, then, a slight feeling of lifting. Pretty soon everyone noticed.

The immense wind speed across the blades had caused the windmills to lift along with their substantial foundations – gradually Yenkro rose into the sky. Those in boats, who had been desperately trying to get into port out of the storm, found their vessels swept forward towards where the land had been as the sea poured in to take its place.

Folk on Yenkro were terrified but, perhaps fortunately, it was hard to tell what was happening. The wind was blowing, the clouds swept by, soon obscuring the view. All electricity supplies were cut. Derek was not wearing his watch and it was hard to keep track of time, he felt as if he had slipped into another dimension. He crouched on the floor, under the dining table, terrified, with his children.

But, gradually, the wind seemed to lessen, and – for those brave enough to watch out of their windows – the cloud thinned, and the sky turned blue. And, surely not at this time of year but, yes, it was getting warmer.

Then, in the distance for those inland, quite plainly for those near the coast, a loud splash was heard. Everywhere started to roll gently, back to front, and side to side, as if on a boat, but gradually all became calm.

Derek, Christine and John peered out from under the dining table, then went outside. Their garden had a view of the coast but – it seemed as if Yenkro was no longer where it used to be. The sky was really blue, the strong sun burned into their faces, and the islands towards the horizon were not the usual ones.

Meanwhile, in Spain’s Canary Islands, off the west coast of Africa, people were aghast, amazed, terrified and a little excited to see a huge object drift down from the sky and land on their horizon – it looked like a new island.

The Bigwigs already had plenty of problems on their plates – incidentally, who got the best plates and the posh cutlery, and who shared it out with their people in the best way, was another argument. But life was about to get a whole lot more difficult now that part of their lands had blown three thousand miles south.

And the people of Yenkro faced the question, how could they get home? More to the point, how could they get their home back home? And, whisper it, did they want to go home?

To be continued (if the author finds a way out of this ridiculous spot).

Graham Brown

Thanks to…

www.freeimages.co.uk