winter

Anne Redpath

Just heard today that an old boss of mine but around my own age has suddenly died. Most disquieting. I feel a bit … I can’t summon up the emotions, so many terrible things have happened the past two years. And when there are not terrible things happening there are large potentially bad things happening on the horizon. I spend my time in a state of past, present and future alarm. I’m home as I woke up coughing, cancelled two social engagements as I have to be on a train to Perth tomorrow and want to conserve my energy. I am however making my very first Christmas Cake using this Nigel Slater recipe. I have divided them into 3 very small cakes so the oven timings are a bit of guess work.

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Part of an ongoing series ‘Furniture of Leith’

Can’t help thinking it’s a metaphor for my life – too often I feel like a broken orange sofa. Though I wonder if this one is making a bid to be a chaise longue?

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I kind of want to say  this with a strong Northern Irish accent…

Apart from the computer packing up in the summer I’ve also been experiencing very low energy all this year.  I’ve cut back enormously on what I do, socially, politically, workwise. I now am trying to do the minimum and also to try and not over do it when I get a glimmer of energy. My previous operandi boom to bust.

I’ve peeked out recently in the last month demonstrating alongside the European Movement in Scotland a non party political group who have been demonstrating outside the Court of Session over the various court cases trying to bring our rogue government to heel.  As I work shifts it seemed to me I was clearly placed with the wherewithal to put myself out for this. I have spent the last month leaping onto busses to get to St Giles in time for the court opening. Indeed doing this feels more productive than kvetching on Twitter.

 

I’ve

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From a trip to Lewes  a few years ago – I can’t remember if before or after the dreaded referendum. Lewes is known as Hampstead in the Country hence its unusual views. But there is historic precedent. My friend was very involved in public speaking in the pub which Thomas Paine met and has now gone on to be elected an independent councillor.  Meanwhile in my months off blogging I’ve spent nearly two weeks dashing up ridiculously early to the Court of Session to stand outside with an EU flag on various court dates for prorogation etc. I’m getting rather fond of the beautiful architecture of the snug carpark / courtyard between it and St Giles. I tend to dash up grab a breakfast roll from Greggs (who cannot guarantee supplies post Brexit) thrust on an EU beanie (a pattern I’ve cobbled together) and wave a flag for an hour or two. Usually we are a small hardy band of about 6. But we are thrilled to get coverage in Guardian, Independent and oh GLORY the FT. And neighbours and colleagues have been coming up to me having recognised me on the telly. Usually glaring fixedly at the camera. I’m amazed that so many people still watch the news on the TV as I’ve been off it for a good 10 years.  It  feels more positive to take a stand and stand. We are now a small travelling community. I mutter ‘we’re a nimble flag waving operation’ as we manoeuvre behind reporters doing pieces to camera. We have common cause or perhaps we have a symbiotic relationship with the photographers and camera persons. We swap info about court times, possible hearing outcomes, transmit our intelligence from people we know in the public gallery. In turn we get told which way the interviews are being done so we can place ourselves, flags, banners even crocheted bunting to best advantage. And they get a more interesting backdrop. We may have to go back on the 21st we await the news. Meanwhile I’m missing the big demo on the 19th I could not face a bus journey two ways and am broke so I’ll keep doing my bit locally. I keep on thinking about the Margaret Meade quote –

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
Margaret Mead

midsomer

I confess I get my computer going again and how do I spend my time? Catching up with old episodes of Midsomer Murders. I prefer the vintage ones with John Nettles naturally. I excuse my addiction (perfect as I lie in bed crocheting) that its actually a deeply Marxist programme probably with Jeremy Corbyn as an advisor because its always got some poor hapless working class yokel accused of the crime but in the end its the ruddy Lord of the Manor.