the banshees of inisherin…

I try to get to the Watershed at least once a fortnight but, to be honest, it’s been far less than that this year – there just haven’t been enough films that have appealed to me (perhaps it’s due to the knock-on effects of the pandemic?). There have, of course, been a few notable exceptions – such as ‘Brian+Charles’, ‘Vortex’, ‘The Worst Person In The World’ and, most recently, ‘Moonage Daydream’.
BUT Moira and I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Martin MacDonagh’s remarkable film ‘The Banshees Of Inisherin’… and it was EXCEPTIONAL!
Set on the remote, fictional island of Inisherin in 1923, against the backdrop of the Irish civil war, it’s a tragicomedy of male friendship gone (very) sour.
Every day at 2pm, dairy farmer Pádraic (Colin Farrell) calls on his best friend, Colm (Brendan Gleeson), and the two head to the pub. They’re very different characters: Pádraic can talk for Ireland about all things mundane while Colm is a thinker, writes music and plays the fiddle. BUT then, one day, Colm refuses to go to the pub… he’s apparently decided that he’s got to the age when time is running out and he needs to do something creative with whatever he has left. Colm decides to cut Pádraic out of his life completely… with ‘severe’ consquences (I’ll leave it there) *no spoilers!*…
Farrell and Gleeson are simply wonderful and Kerry Condon is absolutely excellent as Pádraic’s bookish sister Siobhán.
It’s a brilliant, powerful and flawlessly-acted film… tragic, moving and humorous.
You REALLY must see it if you can. 

october 2022 books…

The Treasure Hunt (Andrea Camilleri): As I’ve previously made clear, I’ve read a LOT of Inspector Montalbano Mysteries and, having watched the entire TV series (twice!) during lockdown (I think there are 35 episodes!), so you won’t be surprised that I knew who the murderer was from very early on in the novel. Despite this – and the awfulness of the horrific crime – it was an intriguing and, bizarrely, frequently very amusing plot… involving a perplexing treasure hunt set by an anonymous challenger, inflatable dolls, Montalbano’s perception that (at 57) he’s getting too old and, of course, food! Another enjoyable relief from the real world of depressing Tory politics.
Eventide (Kent Haruf): This book is the sequel to ‘Plainsong’ (which I read last month) – both books have been recommended to me by my good friend Charlotte. First published in 2005, this novel is again set in a small town, Holt in Colarado, and recounts the lives of individuals who share little else than belonging to fractured families – including the two old bachelor rancher brothers and the young mother they gave a home to; a couple struggling to keep their heads above water and their children out of care; and two young friends finding solace away from their troubled homes. As with the first book, the writing is magical, almost poetic. The individual stories offer an unflinching depiction of the hardships of small town life but I came to love some of the central characters and the quiet, understated gentleness and decency that Haruf is able to describe so beautifully. A very special book. I loved it.
What Just Happened? (Marina Hyde): Look, it’s no secret that I LOVE Marina Hyde! This book is a collection of her Guardian articles written over the past six years. Obviously, I’ve previously read them all (either via newspaper or online), but it’s still acutely depressing to be reminded of the absolute mess of a nation we’ve become since we cast our referendum votes in 2016. As you will no doubt appreciate, this book/her articles cover a wealth of subjects and individuals – from Johnson, Trump, Billionaires, Royal Family, politicians in general and, of course, not to mention the government’s handling of a global pandemic, partygate and a whole lot more. Hyde is hilarious and yet still able to sum up situations with withering effectiveness… she has an amazing ability of being able to describe situations/people’s actions (and inactions) in a brutally potent way and, often, using references from popular culture to make her points (eg. her astounding knowledge of films). Surprise, surprise… she’s also brilliantly intelligent. Oxford University must be hugely relieved that not all their graduates are in the ‘Liz Truss’ calibre bracket! This book frequently made me laugh out loud… and shake my head in frustration and anger at some of the things our politicians have put us through over recent years.
Frankenstein (Mary Shelley): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (‘something scary’). It’s the sort of classic (first published in 1818) that I’d long promised to read but never had, until now. I think most people are vaguely aware of the plot – the story of Victor Frankenstein, who plunders graveyards to create a new being from the bodies of the dead… but whose botched creature causes nothing but murder and destruction. Actually, the novel (written by 18 year-old Shelley after a nightmare) was somewhat different to what I’d imagined. I’d anticipated that much of the ‘action’ would be taking place in the laboratory and involve the intricacies of building a new being when, in fact, it features Frankenstein in the Arctic - pursuing the monster he’d created - meeting up with an explorer (who had earlier reported seeing a 'gigantic figure' crossing the ice). Over a period of days, Frankenstein tells the explorer his long, complicated and tragic story… and his disgust and sense of guilt about creating the monster (who ended up murdering several innocent victims) in the first place. A truly Gothic novel (very much of its time), but one which, frankly, I was relieved to have finished/put behind me. Not exactly my ‘cup of tea’… and there were several times when I just wanted to scream in frustration at the Frankenstein character (eg. he frequently gained people’s sympathy and attention about his horrendous experiences, but always managed to stop mid-explanation - refusing to go into details!).
The Diary of a Provincial Lady (EM Delafield): This is our next Bloke’s Books book. It’s a long book in four parts (first published in 1930) and, because some members of the group are rather ‘reticent readers’(!), Ed (who proposed the novel) suggested we should just read Part One (although I’ll certainly read the other three parts in due course). I thoroughly enjoyed this book and thought it was beautiful funny and a perfect antidote to current UK politics (and the like). The book’s Introduction describes it as “a proper English treat, like a cream tea after a long, muddy country walk” and I think that sums it up perfectly. It’s a satirical diary of a social climber trying to make an interesting life for herself in the English countryside. The provincial lady faces the problems of never having enough money, an unruly house and garden, never well-read enough, never attractive enough, and her children never quite well-enough behaved. The book very much reminded me of EF Benson’s ‘Mapp+Lucia’ novels. Like them, I found this an absolute joy to read. 

169th annual open exhibition

I always enjoy going to the RWA’s Annual Open Exhibition… but I always do so with a certain reservations and, yes, with something of a chip on my shoulder! I’ve previously submitted work on a couple of occasions and have been duly rejected each time (the same has happened to some of my brilliant artist friends!) – although I was accepted for the ‘Drawn’ exhibition in 2013. The result is that I go around the exhibition feeling ‘highly critical’ of some of the work that ended up actually being accepted!!
This year’s exhibition (8 October-8 January) is no exception (although I didn’t submit anything!) and I’ve already made two visits.
One of the things that particularly struck me with this year’s exhibition was its overall rather monochrome character. Yes, there were several colourful offerings, but also entire walls of black+white submissions.
Yes, I fully agree that art appreciation is a very subjective business and, don’t get me wrong, there are LOTS of EXCELLENT art on display this year… but there are also LOTS of work that I found myself really puzzling as to how they had been given the ‘thumbs up’! And the slightly scary thing (and, for me, this seems to happen EVERY year!) is that there are always half a dozen or so works submitted by the RWA’s own Academicians (“Practising artists or architects of exceptional ability and experience with a proven track record of exhibitions… creators of art works judged to be of a consistently high standard”) that in my view fall well short of what constitutes a ‘high standard’ of art.
What, ME out of step with the rest of the world? Surely not!!
PS: There’s part of me that thinks the RWA simply uses the exhibition as a great way of raising funds. Artists have to pay a fee for each submission (and it’s not cheap!); applications are strongly encouraged and LOTS are rejected!
Photo: Just a few of the pieces that caught my eye.

leg club… (really?)

This morning, I attended my first session of ‘Leg Club’ (yes, I know it sounds vaguely like ‘Fight Club’, but I can assure you it’s VERY different!).
It’s an initiative run by seven GP surgeries in Bristol which focusses solely on ‘leg care’. After struggling with varicose veins and leg ulcer issues over the past several years, I KNOW that the level of expertise among GPs and Practice Nurses is somewhat ‘theoretical’ at best (I certainly haven’t found it effective).
This is a weekly clinic for people who’ve been referred to the clinic by their doctors. Patients commit themselves to attend each week; everyone sits in the same large room and is seen in turn by a team of five(?) nurses, a co-ordinator plus three volunteers. I think there were probably 20-25 patients seen during the morning session.
My initial reaction, when I was first told that I’d been registered, was “What a ridiculous name!” but, by the end of the morning, I ‘got’ why it was called a Club rather than a clinic. Volunteers hand out teas and coffees to those waiting to be seen and patients (some of whom have clearly got to know each other over their weeks/months of attendance) chat casually and compare notes.
I think the clinic is the brainchild of the Lead Nurse - who clearly recognised the frustrations and the inadequacies of the ‘old’ system (and who clearly had gained knowledge and experience through her own years of practice). She checks every patient and discusses individual treatments with one of the nursing team. I found it hugely reassuring to feel that I was in the hands of people who really knew their roles and knew what treatment was appropriate.
Believe me, after struggling over the past 4-5 years, this felt like a massive step forward.
It all felt so encouraging. I was greeted by the team co-ordinator (with a smile, I hasten to add!) who explained how the clinic was run and what to expect (and she handed me some really useful additional explanatory notes). I was required to attend EVERY week until my ulcers had cleared up… “and, rest assured, we WILL get you sorted out!” I was told.
Today, I was given an ultrasound leg scan (also referred to as an arterial Doppler) to establish/clarify how my treatment should be processed and then a senior nurse examined my foot ulcers and then applied lotions/creams and compression therapy (in the form of liner and over ‘stockings’) - plus I was given a special plastic sock to enable me to shower etc. I was also given firm instructions to keep the stockings on 24/7, then to attend next week’s session so they can check on progress and renew the dressings. Firm, no nonsense instructions (and encouragement).
My attendance at the clinic was a hugely positive and humbling experience.
Yes, it made me realise how comparatively fortunate I was compared with a lot of the patients but, primarily, I was in awe of the nurses as they knelt on the floor to bathe wounds and administer dressings to the individual patients - and they did it all with humanity, gentleness and encouragement. Dedication. Serving others. As I say, very humbling.
I might moan about the ‘challenges’ of booking a doctor’s appointment but, for the most part:
THANK GOODNESS FOR THE NHS.
Photo: Oh, and the Lead Nurse makes delicious cakes (how do these wonderful people make time for cake-making?) and I was duly given two cakes to take home… I ‘tried’ to decline, but failed pitifully (they were very lovely)!

moonage daydream…

Having attended a Ricky Ross concert at St George’s on Tuesday night, it seems a little strange to have ventured to the Watershed the following day to watch a documentary on David Bowie (directed by Brett Morgen)… although music is important for me, it doesn’t usually feature quite so regularly as this!
It’s a rather brilliant documentary film - told through kaleidoscopic, never-seen-before footage, performances and music - exploring the creative, musical, and spiritual journey of one of the most iconic rock stars of all time. Bowie has always been something of an icon – both in terms of his music, his appearance and the wealth of his innovative work (including art, sculpture, dance, acting, writing, thinking and design), but through the film I found myself mesmerised by the utter wealth of his creativity, his ideas and his constant need to ‘move on’ to the next project/persona/challenge. I was familiar with most of it and yet, seeing it put together in a 140 minute documentary felt quite mindblowing.
I was always a lover of Bowie’s music and bought at least three of his CDs (including Blackstar, the last album before his death in 2016). The film reminded me just how much I like his music and I’ve now resolved to find the playlist I created (and played endlessly) when he died.
As Mark Kermode (in his 5-star review) put it: it’s a “truly psychedelic fever dream of a film that captures Bowie as performer, artist and thinker”.
I think you need to see it.

ricky ross at st george’s again…

Last night my good friend Maria and I attended a wonderful concert at St George’s given by Ricky Ross. It’s been five years since I went to his last concert at this lovely venue.
Previously, I recall blogging that “when I grow up, I want to be a singer/songwriter and play a grand piano… just like Ricky Ross”. Well, I feel exactly the same way(!)… nothing changes (except that I’ve got older)!
He performed his songs, unaccompanied, for nearly an hour and a half – just him and St George’s wonderful grand piano (and a couple of songs on guitar) plus him reading extracts from his book “Walking Back Home”. Obviously(!), I queued with perhaps another 70 people at the end of the concert and obtained my autographed copy and exchanged a few words with him (this morning, he’s probably telling all his friends that he actually shook my hand!).
The concert was simply brilliant.
I just love the sound of a single voice and a piano together. I’ve been listening to a lot of Ross’s music again over recent weeks (his “Short Stories, Volume 1” and “Short Stories Volume 2” formed the basis of the concert) and, for me, Ross certainly has a way of capturing profound, evocative, sad, uplifting, powerful emotions in his words and music.
It was a truly uplifting evening and a thankful reminder that there ARE some positives in the world, despite all the other depressing stuff.
Photos from the concert. 

nhs and gp practices ‘after’ covid…

I LOVE the NHS.
I’m still in awe of people working in the NHS during Covid; how they managed the Covid vaccinations; how they managed to keep going despite the risks, underfunding, lack of resources and operation backlogs.
But (and you knew there would be a ‘but’!), as we’ve emerged from the pandemic (or have I spoken too soon?), it seems that many of us share a common frustration of having to deal with our respective GP practices. Clearly, practices had to come up with different ways of working during the pandemic… face-to-face appointments were extremely rare; telephone consultations were the only things on offer. It was all very understandable… but very frustrating nevertheless. But, it seems to me (and, hey, maybe I’m wrong?) that GP practices have been very slow to try to revert back to ‘normality’.
It seems that the ONLY way to get an appointment these days is via a phonecall to the GP surgery (gone are the days when you were able to book an appointment online)… and that, as you will well know if you’ve ever tried, is a simply appalling experience.
This is just ONE example (believe me, I could give you many more):
I received a text message from our GP practice offering me my annual Flu jab. If I didn’t want the jab, I was asked to text a particular number with the word ‘DECLINE’ (fair enough), but if I DID want one then I needed to ring and make an appointment via the usual (and only) practice telephone number. So, yesterday, I rang the number (it was mid-afternoon, I decided to avoid the ‘busy times’)… and duly received the usual stream of messages about ringing 999 if I had any of the following symptoms etc… there was also that annoying standard message saying “we’re currently experiencing an exceptional high call volumes”. This is frankly ridiculous because this is ALWAYS the message you’re given EVERY time you call the surgery… SO IT’S NOT ‘EXCEPTIONAL’, FOR GOODNESS SAKE!
Yesterday’s somewhat typical ‘call experience’ went as follows: I was informed that I was 7^th in the queue (not bad, I’ve been 15^th before now!)… and I waited… and waited (all the time being reminded that they were experiencing ‘exceptional’ call volumes, of course!). Eventually, after 30 minutes, I’d got to the head of queue and now had the ring tone… and I waited… and waited (and continued to get reminders about exceptional call volumes and to phone 999 if I had particular symptoms). After a further 15 minutes, I gave up.
This is 'just' for a flu jab, for goodness sake. There MUST be a better way?
During the course of my ‘prolonged’ wait, I was able to look up the practice’s website and find an online form I could complete for options of ‘A Suggestion/Praise/Regarding a problem/Other’ – which I duly did (because I had nothing else I could do!). In my response, I asked if the Practice Manager or any other senior Doctors had EVER tried to ring the practice in order to get some idea of how awful the experience was? I look forward to receiving a reply (but I’m not waiting with bated breath!).
I still haven’t been able to book my flu jab (and, of course, I can’t even book an appointment by calling into the surgery in person).
PS: I tried again this morning, but gave up when told I was number 14 in the queue.

september 2022 books…

Do I Stay Christian? (Brian McLaren): I bought this book (‘A Guide for the Doubters, the Disappointed and the Disillusioned’) to assist me in my meandering spiritual journey! American pastor McLaren is a wise, gentle, articulate man and he talks an awful lot of sense in this book of ‘guidance’ (in which he freely acknowledged reasons for leaving, staying and, whatever we decide, the need to do so in a “good, honest and loving way”) and doesn’t try to “push any foregone conclusion” on to its reader. He deals with the ‘big picture’ issues in a convincing and helpful way but, crucially for me, I realised that, for all his wisdom and experience, he wasn’t able to put his finger on the key issues that were most relevant for me: eg. ‘What was the point of it all?’, ‘Does it really matter what I believe as long as I take a humanitarian view of the world?’. It’s all too complicated to try to encompass such matters in a brief book review, so I might write a separate blogpost at some stage (then again?). Anyway, a fascinating book focussing on making a responsible, honest, ethical decision about religious identity.
Milk Teeth (Jessica Andrews): I read, and enjoyed, Andrews’s first book ‘Saltwater’ and so it seemed like an easy decision to read her second – especially as she lives in Bristol and I was able to attend a ‘book release’ evening at my beloved Storysmith’s bookshop. In ‘Milk Teeth’, the narrator - a young woman plagued by bodily shame - leaves her difficult family in Durham and travels to London, Paris and Barcelona, unable to escape her emotional demons. Like her previous book, it’s written in a series of brief chapters (97 of them) fluctuating between the present and the past. Love and desire take centre stage as the woman struggles with her uneasy journey to rid herself of issues that have prevented her from discovering who she is and what she’s seeking in her life. Beautiful writing and an impressive book – but perhaps not quite my cup of tea.
Plainsong (Kent Haruf): This book was recommended to me by my good friend Charlotte… and how right she was! First published in 1999, the novel is set in a small town, Holt in Colarado, and recounts the lives of individuals who share little else than belonging to fractured families – including a schoolteacher struggling to bring up his 8+10 year-old sons alone; a pregnant, homeless schoolgirl and two old bachelor rancher brothers who take her in. The writing is magical - graceful and almost poetic – with a quiet, understated gentleness and decency that I found quite captivating. One of those special books that I felt I should be reading out loud. I loved it.
Game Of Mirrors (Andrea Camilleri): This must be something like the eighth Inspector Montalbano book I’ve read (and, for my sins, I’ve also watched the 30-odd telly episodes!). As with most detective mysteries, I’m not brilliant at following all the plot intricacies (often slightly farcical), but I do enjoy the Montalbano character, the humour, his work colleagues, his passion for food and the Sicilian setting. In this book, Montalbano comes to the aid of a neighbour (predictably female and beautiful!) after the engine of her car is interfered with… which, in due course, he realises is tenuously linked to a bomb explosion case he’s also dealing with. Drug-dealing, suspicious mafia links and a barrage of false clues from an anonymous source threaten Montalbano’s reputation… (you get the general idea!). Enjoyable, easy reading and a welcome escape from the depressing events in the real world.
The War Between The Tates (Alison Lurie): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s next book.
First published in 1974, Brian and Erica Tate appear to have every advantage of life: academic careers, two children, good friends and money. He’s a political science professor at Corinth University and she’s a well-educated stay-at-home wife and mother. They’ve had a good marriage and a happy family, but now it’s all starting to break down. He has always been a reliable and faithful husband… but then Erica learns that he’s been having an affair with a graduate student. And so the war begins. It’s very much a ‘campus satire’ and one that, at times, made me feel angry and depressed in equal measure… but it’s also a wise, compassionate and humorous novel. Lurie is a clearly very gifted writer… but, did I enjoy the book? I’m really not sure (I’ve been mulling over this question ever since finishing the book some 10 days ago). There were several times when I found myself laughing at its wit, but also lots of occasions when I found myself angry and frustrated at the actions taken by its principal characters.