the outrun...

I went to the Watershed this afternoon to see Nora Fingscheidt’s film based on Amy Liptrot’s 2018 book ‘The Outrun’ – an unflinching adaptation of her personal story of alcohol addiction.
I first read the book in 2020 (and I’ve just finished re-reading it - as it happens to have been chosen as my Storysmith bookgroup’s next book), absolutely loved it and just hoped that the film wouldn’t come as a huge let-down. Thankfully, it didn’t!
It was excellent. Obviously, in the manner of such matters, there were things both added to and omitted from the film… but that didn’t fundamentally detract from it.
After a decade away in London, 29-year-old Rona (played by the brilliant Saoirse Ronan) returns home to the Orkney Islands. By this time, she was alcohol-free, but an absolute mess after her pitiful experiences in London – where she’d lost jobs, a boyfriend she loved, her health and her self-respect… and ended up in re-hab, with her psyche teetering on the edge of the abyss. She retreats to the ‘outrun’ (the name given to a rough pasture on her parents’ farm) and, very slowly, thanks to her amazing resolve and determination, her life is gradually restored and re-formed. The film successfully portrays the scary hopelessness of addiction alongside the joyful beauty of nature.
It’s a powerful, unflinching, scary, eloquent… but, ultimately, hopeful and uplifting story which has been impressively adapted for cinema audiences.
I absolutely loved it.
Photo: Saoirse Ronan and Amy Liptrot (from Liptrot’s FB page) taken at the film’s premiere on Orkney.
PS: When I lived on Iona for 2 months in 2012, I regularly used to hear Corncrakes (you need to have seen the film!) - and even saw one of them on two occasions!

lee…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed this morning (yes, I know!) to see Ellen Kuras’s film about the model-turned-war-photographer Lee Miller.
It’s a tough, but compelling, watch…
Kate Winslet is brilliant in the role of the American photographer Miller, working as a war correspondent for Vogue during WW2. Along with her friend and colleague, Life magazine photographer David Scherman (Andy Samberg), she was one of the very first civilians to bear witness to the atrocities of the Nazi concentration camps at Buchenwald and Dachau.
I was aware of Miller’s photographic career and legacy, but didn’t know that her son only discovered her file of photographs hidden away in the loft of their home after her death in 1977 (over recent years, Miller’s son and granddaughter have endeavoured to keep her memory alive).
There were some scenes that I felt were a bit ‘exaggerated’… but (what do I know!) were vindicated in the closing credits – which showed ‘stills’ from the film alongside photographs taken by Miller that absolutely endorsed what had actually happened.
It’s a remarkable, sobering film… brilliantly acted and depressingly highlighting the exclusion of women/attitudes towards women during WW2.
PS: Winslet chain-smoked CONTINUOUSLY during the film… I just hope they weren’t ‘proper’ fags or else the insurance company might have to pay out bigtime!!

the songs of joni michell at st george’s…

Joni Mitchell has been my musical idol for over 66 years.
I love her music with a passion and many of the songs take me back to my early college days… but, sadly, I’ve never seen her perform ‘live’ (one of my biggest regrets) – and, clearly, that’s not going to change.
Last November, she celebrated her 80^th birthday and there was a sell-out concert (curated by Lail Arad) given in her honour at London’s Roundhouse… and this led to demands for further shows/UK tour.
Last night’s concert at St George’s was one of the resulting gigs.
Ru first spotted the concert blurb a few months ago and so it was agreed that it would be lovely for our Bristol-based daughters, Ru+Hannah, plus Moira and me to get together for an evening’s musical celebration (they’re lovely like that! xx).

We didn’t know any of the female-dominated line-up (apparently all celebrated singer-songwriters in their own right - Jesca Hoop, Lail Arad, Olivia Chaney, Rachael Dadd and Julia Turner) and so it could have been a very disappointing evening… but, fortunately, it wasn’t. It’s obviously nowhere near the same as seeing Mitchell perform the songs herself, but the evening proved to be an excellent celebration of her iconic music (and St George’s was full).
Lots of musical memories were duly evoked and, fortunately from my perspective, most of my ‘absolute favourite songs’ were performed.
Soft man that I am, I was close to tears when they sang ‘Both Sides Now’ to conclude the show.
A lovely evening.
Photo: Final song performed by all the artists plus members of a local choir.

last home game of the season…

It’s Gloucestershire’s last home game of the season and so I went along to the first day of what, supposedly, is a four-day match against Sussex. After their weekend exploits, Glocs might be well be T20 Champions but, back in the County Championship, they continued to struggle in the traditional form of the game.
Winning the toss and batting first on a beautiful, sunny day, Glocs were all out for a paltry 109 by 2.15pm. Sussex (who are currently top of Division 2) responded pretty effectively and ended the first day 149-4 wickets.
For part of the morning session, I found myself sitting next to one of the Sussex bowling coaches, James Kirtley (former Sussex and England pace bowler). I hadn’t a clue who he was(!) and it was only in the course of our conversation that I discovered his role in the Sussex set-up… but it was absolutely fascinating listening to him. He talked about all the detailed analysis that they undertook to ascertain detailed information about a batter’s weaknesses and strengths (REALLY detailed stuff, like batter X had been out LBW in 12% of his innings; or 18% of his dismissals were catches to wicket-keeper or slips etc etc) and how all the bowlers (and fielders) were coached to be acutely aware of such stuff. Even as we watched the cricket, he pointed out one of the weaknesses of a Glocs batter… and, sure enough, he ended up being caught in exactly the way the coach had predicted! Obviously, I passed on my own advice to him based on YEARS of experience… I feel sure he was grateful.
Once again, I don’t think this Championship game will last the scheduled four days!
Photo: The ground wasn’t exactly full to bursting as the morning session got underway!

september 2024 books…

Letters To My Grandchildren (Tony Benn): I seem to be going through a phase of re-reading books (I first read this in 2012; first published in 2009). An encouraging book – idealistic, inevitably political and hugely affectionate – comprising 39 letters to his grandchildren (together with a lovely postscript “The Daddy Shop” – an invented story of his). When he wrote it, his ten grandchildren ranged from 31 to 13 years in age (which means they now must be 46 to 28!); when I first read it in 2012, our six grandchildren ranged from 6 to 1 years of age (and are now 18 to 12). Even if you didn’t altogether agree with his political views, you can’t help but appreciate his constant curiosity and zest for life. Some really insightful stuff – especial about war, political power and the environment. He died in 2014, aged 88… a good man.
Wilt On High (Tom Sharpe): It’s been a very long time since I first read this – probably approaching 40 years (first published in 1984)! I’ve read a lot of Sharpe’s books over the years and this one is fairly typical in its completely over-the-top, farcical and hysterical humour (with a fair portion of vulgarity and sex thrown into the mix!). Henry Wilt is a Liberal Studies lecturer at the Fenland College of Arts and Technology; he’s married to Eva and they have gifted, quarrelling quad daughters. There’s talk of drug dealing at the Tech (a student is found dead) and, completely unfairly, Wilt becomes the target of suspicion. He also, for his sins, teaches weekly at the local prison and at the nearby US airbase; alarm bells sound in both organisations and Wilt is at the centre of the resulting investigations… Inventive and frequently very funny.
Why I Wake Early (Mary Oliver): Another re-read (I first read this in 2016)… which I’m using as part of my early morning routine (Oliver and I both wake up early!). I love Oliver’s poetry. She has a natural gift for conveying the wonder of the ordinary… although she focusses on ‘creatures’ a little/much too much for my taste! But I do love the fact that she sees (and celebrates) things that most people might never notice. Looking, seeing, reflecting, celebrating the simple things in life. Another beautiful book.
Vanessa Bell: Portrait Of The Bloomsbury Artist (Frances Spalding): Yet another re-read (previously read in July 2021)… but I’ve been looking at her art quite a lot recently. In fact, there’s been an exhibition of her work at The Courtauld during the Summer/early Autumn – which, sadly, I might not be able to get to. I absolutely loved this excellent biography (first published in 1983 and re-published in 2016). I’ve read a lot of Bloomsbury-related stuff over recent years and been particularly drawn to the paintings by Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant. This book provides fascinating insights into the work and lives of both of them (and the Bloomsbury group) - with Bell becoming something of a mother figure for the whole group and a catalyst for much of what the group came to represent. She walked an emotional tightrope in her relationships with her husband (Clive Bell), ex-lover (Roger Fry) and lover (Duncan Grant) and enjoyed a bohemian lifestyle of sexual freedom, fierce independence and honesty. As a painter, Bell was as radical as her sister Virginia Woolf the writer (Woolf described Bell as ‘the Saint’ for her practical sense of duty and organisation). The book has been compiled from letters and diaries (without letters, how much would have been lost!) and full of amusing and intriguing details. This extract sums up Bell beautifully: “Vanessa continued to follow an independent course in life with a sense of purpose that others envied. Vanessa ‘takes her own line in London life’, Virginia (Woolf) observed; ‘ refuses to be a celebrated painted; buys no clothes; sees whom she likes as she likes; and altogether leads an indomitable sensible and very sublime existence’.” A wonderful, intriguing biography… which I really enjoyed re-reading.
Bullets For The Bridegroom (David Dodge): Another Penguin crime novel bought at the Oxfam bookshop (first published in 1948)(apparently it’s the third ‘Whit’ Whitney book?). Set in Reno, Nevada at the end of WW2 (between VE and VJ Day), James and Kitty Whitney have just got married and are on honeymoon, but find themselves sucked into the somewhat scary world of espionage, a questionable night-club/casino, disguised government agents, mistaken identities… and murder (the person who was going to marry them gets murdered). The FBI are desperately trying to track a secret wireless station. It’s a pacey, sinister tale which builds in intensity and ends in a large-scale gunfight involving enemy agents but, for me, I found the plot rather unconvincing and disappointing (I could imagine the author fancying it becoming a blockbuster film!), the storyline dated (perhaps not surprisingly!) and, ultimately, predictable.    

school service corps (in the early 1960s)... but not for me.

Bizarrely, I recently came across a photograph of an earth mound/retaining wall structure they use on shooting ranges and it immediately conjured up memories of my time at grammar school in Birmingham. We had our own firing range(!) in the 'playground' - consisting of a high brick wall, with battered earth in front to house the targets (we used the firing range as one of our playground ‘goalmouths’!), together with its own fully-equipped armoury on school premises (complete with rifles, bayonets and bullets)!!
I was born just four years after the end of the war and it’s easy to forget how much impact the war still had in those years of my youth.
The school’s cadet corps (Army/Navy/RAF) was taken EXTREMELY seriously; school masters used to wear their service uniforms once a week on service corps days. Each year, the school’s cadet corps had a large parade – they marched (complete with a full band of drummers and buglers) from the school to the sports ground off Wood Lane, three miles away… and they were always led by the Divinity master (and Army officer!) who rode a huge white horse (I know!).
There was an expectation for all boys to sign up for the Cadet Corps and I think most probably did. But NOT our Form. I was in the ‘Remove Stream’ at school – we were in the ‘fast stream’ earmarked to take our ‘O’ Levels in 4 years instead of 5. When it came to the time for signing up (in 1962/63, when we were perhaps 14 years old?), absolutely NO ONE in our class volunteered to ‘join up’. The assigned ‘Cadet Corps Masters’ were incredulous… “never in the history of the school has this ever happened” (or words to that effect). I recall the ‘Top Dog’ Corps Master coming to lecture us… it was our DUTY… we were the school’s future Cadet Corps OFFICERS for goodness sake (implying that, as the ‘bright’ ones, we were required to pull the others ‘into shape’). It had absolutely no effect… none of us joined up. 

It’s something I look back on with a certain pride… you might think our actions were inappropriate, unwarranted or misguided but, like the climate change school pupils of today, I think we were making our own small statement… and, naïve as it might be, I’m very pleased that we did.