Category Archives: Musings

More Camels and less Comics

23 Sunday Aug 2015

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There was a time in my life,  in the mid to late 1990s that I would spend about a week every early December in Nice, in the South of France. The climate was mild, the prices reasonable, the bar and restaurants quiet. Good for Christmas shopping and for several years host to an eclectic European Theatre Festival, that gathered experimental thought provoking and physical theatre and presented it with something of a flourish to discerning audiences.

One particular year a piece from the National Theatre of Slovenia, loosely based on some of the absurdities in Shakespeare, and challenging our relationship to the printed and spoken word through exquisite physical theatre, stood out. At the end of the performance a live camel was led onto stage where it sat down and surveyed the (largely jaw dropping) audience with an absurdist non-challence that was as eloquent as it was relevant to the piece that had preceded it. Half the audience absolutely “got the Camel” the other half didn’t. And since then I tend to divide the world into people who get, and are excited by, challenging concepts, philosophies, and art forms. People who are happy to look at the world differently, who are not content with being spoon fed their theatrical or life experiences. As you might imagine, I got, and continue to get, The Camel.

I’m just back from another long weekend at the Edinburgh Fringe, seeing work from artists I know and much from people and groups that are new to me. I have seen outstanding work and some that is OK. I haven’t seen anything dire, but then I like to think I have a pretty good radar. Some of the stuff that was OK had large audiences, some of the stuff that was outstanding had small (let’s say intimate) audiences. Some of the performers faced with that intimacy are theatre makers of such experience, sensitivity and confidence in their theatre making, that they can adapt the tone to develop a conversation with a smaller audience, one that leaves you feeling special and privileged that only a few people have had such an experience. These  are the theatre makers that deserve the larger audiences. But while that’s nifty for the punter, it’s less rewarding for the artist: it doesn’t put pounds in their pockets or beer on the table. And as the Fringe runs on and money runs out, a prodigious amount of beer is drunk

It’s fair to say that this year, I think more than ever, intelligent theatre is being squeezed out of the Fringe. I have friends who are openly saying they may not bring back challenging, well made, pieces to try out in Edinburgh, but instead go for the more popular option: a spoof, a parody, a ripping yarn, something guaranteed not to scare the horses. Or worse not come back at all. With even a modest show requiring a budget of between £15,000 – £20,000 to mount, including accommodation and living costs, you can begin to see why. But that would be a huge tragedy. Not only is the Fringe, when it’s working properly, a chance for writers, artists, actors, directors and producers to showcase their work to venues which might lead to a tour (to offset the inevitable losses incurred by a month in Edinburgh), it also means that  if that work is being developed outside of Scotland (and the vast majority of shows of course are conceived furth of these borders) then those of us who don’t have easy and regular access to other parts of the UK, Europe or even the States are denied seeing new and innovative work.

So what is to be done? Once again I find myself (against my natural instincts) thinking the Fringe is too big, with not enough quality control and with too much of an emphasis on the popular and the comedic. While it is absolutely not true to say that there is no quality control; some venues are after-all very sniffy about whom and what they will allow in. The general “come one, come all” approach benefits no-one except the venues. Looking in the giant fringe programme for an idea of what to see is the artistic equivalent of going to  Niagra Falls to get a drink of water. And the absurd star review system so meaningless to be almost laughable or even a turn off. Audiences are short changed with more bad shows than good and at an average of £10-£12  a show that’s a lot of change. Performers stand to make substantial losses, have their confidence kicked out of them and decide the whole thing is just not for them. Venues that say they don’t make a profit on the shows  – but only on the bars and food – are just fibbing. The split house percentage deals means the house always wins.

The ridiculous quick get ins and get outs, to maximise the number of shows for each venue, and the fact that shows often use house technicians, mean that many shows present with the minimum of set or soundscape. I yearn to see a well dressed, well set designed fringe show. After all there’s only so many black boxes a girl can take in a weekend. And ALL the main venues have to stop this crazy and self defeating curfew on theatre after 6.00pm. Who decrees that only comedy should rule the evening? It means local people and by local I mean people within a 60 minute commute of Edinburgh, can’t see much, if any, theatre, on the Fringe, during the week if they are working.

There needs to be something of a revolution, either a new venue with new rules and a new model of collaboration between artist and venue needs to emerge, (It’s been done before in Edinburgh) or stalwarts who every year see their returns diminish need to boycott or demand change.

But one thing is certain the Edinburgh Fringe needs too see more Camels on its stages than comedians and cabarets.

If not Edinburgh might find that  there are other places in Scotland which will grab the mantle of intelligent theatre and give the Fringe a run for its money.

So if you are looking for decent challenging and thought provoking shows with performers of high calibre then amongst the shows I have seen and can highly recommend are:

Venue  Zoo Sanctuary: Nicholas Collett, Nelson a Sailor’s Story; Gavin Robertson, Crusoe

Venue Assembly: Guy Masterson, Under Milk Wood (semi skimmed); Rebecca Vaughan, I Elizabeth; Le Gateau Chocolat: Black

Venue Traverse Theatre: The Christians

Venue Summerhall: Key Change (part of Northern Stage collection); Moon Fool, Titania

Venue Gilded Baloon: Sex Rated G

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Loneliness isn’t just for Christmas and for some the social disconnect is damaging to us all

12 Wednesday Nov 2014

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It’s that time of year again, and we are being bombarded by images of the perfect Christmas, lots of happy people, in groups, usually large groups all positively bursting with seasonal joy. Or if it’s not that it’s the saccharine sweet nonsense of CGI’d residents of the Antarctic looking for love! What upsets me most about John Lewis’ offering this year, isn’t the bad acting (the kid obviously, NOT the penguin… it’s not real!) or the perfect middle classness of it all, or even the shameful promotion of the stuffed Emperor penguin which can be yours for only £129 from a John Lewis near you , along with another 177 penguin inspired gifts! It’s the underlying message of the advert that you (and more importantly those around you)  can’t possibly have a happy Christmas, or be fulfilled if one beggar at the feast is loveless and without a significant other to pull their cracker. Now I suppose it could be the penguins long lost brother or sister popping out of the hat box, maybe it’s a  subtle plea to the Home Office about the importance of the right to family re-union; but giving all the shots of snogging (elder snogging too!) we have to assume that the visitor is definitely the love interest.

Now this is not the “poor me whining” of someone who is not expecting (or seeking) much misteltoe action this year. I have enough experience to tell me that I don’t need to rub noses with someone to make my Christmas special, or any holiday or any special occasion more special. But what concerns me slightly is the subliminal message that if you are alone, or on your own at this time of year (or possibly any time of year) somehow you  are seen as a bit odd, a bit sad, that you are not keeping your end up, not playing the game, you are spoiling it for everyone else.  Popular culture, advertisers and retailers are singing from the  same carol sheet and that carol simply says that Christmas is about being happy, and being happy requires you to be a surrounded by large groups of people and above all Christmas means love and romance. Whereas we all know the horrific reality of Christmas with large groups of relatives, we know that Christmas is about over indulgence of the wallet, senses and stomach and that the divorce rate soars post-holiday season.

But aside from all of that it completely ignores and diminishes those people who ARE lonely, on their own, sometimes by choice but not often. We are urged to chap up elderly neighbours and bring them a cup of festive cheer, invite them to lunch. We are coerced into giving to charity, brought face to face with people “less fortunate than our selves” and in the 6 week run up to the big day (with Children in Need as the official starting pistol)  we are expected to find a compassion for others that most of us find completely absent the other 46 weeks of the year. And all of it to make us feel less guilty about those people who don’t fit the happy norm and whose presence amongst us and whose plight might make us feel a bit bad about the extremes we go to.

But like the puppies, Loneliness isn’t just for Christmas.

And bang on cue a journalist chum emails me to say her magazine is doing a feature on loneliness at this time of year. No, she’s not asking me to write about the emotional desert of being partnerless that I navigate every day (!) or the horrors of having to go to Christmas parties on my tod. She, to be fair, works for the Church of Scotland magazine Life and Work and she wants to know about the impact of loneliness on asylum seekers and refugees. That it’s “this time of year” I’m pretty sure is the hook but it does show some understanding that sometimes people who are lonely are not being lonely just to spoil the party for everyone else.

It’s surely one thing being lonely in a city you recognise in a culture that you connect with and in a language you speak, imagine then, the crushing sense of aloneness you might feel if these things missing are as they are for asylum seekers and refugees. The latest dispersal cohort of asylum seekers to Glasgow (the only city in Scotland to house them) are mostly men, single men. Without families and with no realistic chance for re-union any time soon, they are housed in some of the poorest areas of the city, where markers of social deprivation are off the scale, and amongst the indigenous population, weighed down by poverty and illness, there’s not much energy for welcoming the stranger.

A subject of research just now, into the impacts of these lack of social bonds and bridges, this community paint a bleak picture. Unable to communicate well, they fall between the cracks of service provision; their health, physical and mental, is poor, their motivation to engage with support – which might lift them out of poverty-  once they are granted leave to remain, is low. With contact to family and a previous life restricted to emails and skype on the rare occasions they can access a computer, when their stories are generally not believed by the authorities, and they are living with a dread of the “knock on the door”,  being alone is tinged not just with sadness but with fear and anxiety.

A growing trend in Glasgow is to see these young men, forced to spend time with others in a similar position, but in no way people with whom they have formed friendships necessarily, congregating on street corners. There’s no money for coffee and going for a pint is out. But in gathering like this,  being mostly from the Middle East, and  in this political climate, they become the subject of fear and suspicion, further removing them from the chances to make connections which might tum them from social pariah into contributing citizens. For this group loneliness is more than a poignant tug on the heartstrings at Christmas, it’s a dangerous and debilitating disconnect which needs to be addressed, because not to do so risks affecting social cohesion in Glasgow and in other cities in the country where the same sad scenes are played out. And it is, in turn, this break down of social cohesion which ramps up racial tensions which can spill over into violence, this becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy, Fill British cities with disconnected and un-engaged migrants and see what happens cants the Daily Mail. And I’m not seeing too many calls for people to pop round and bring an asylum seeker a cup of festive cheer.

Elsewhere in the migrant community with, punishing immigration rules on family re-union and temporary leave to remain becoming the norm rather than let people settle permanently when they might put down roots, get an education, work and contribute, loneliness abounds. I stopped long ago asking clients if they had any children, when one African woman looked me in the eye and said “Maybe”. The chilling realisation that for many of the people we work with, the reality of family life is the not knowing where they are and if they are still alive. How much would they revel in a typically fractious, argumentative, tired and emotional relative filled Christmas day?

We have all experienced at some point how you can feel lonely in a room full of people, so take a moment and think about people you know who might not be surrounded by loved ones, or  who are a significant other, light, but who will be doing their best to survive the lovebombing onslaught that is December in Britain. They aren’t worth less than you, they are not flawed, they are not trying to spoil the party, they are not to be feared, they are not to be pitied, they are to be accepted and celebrated for the people they are, for the lives that they lead, however difficult they may be at times. Diversity is a wonderful thing!

Bride of Frankenstein and moral outrage.. it’s all part of 24 hours on Facebook

24 Friday Oct 2014

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Fans of Facebook and other social media portals will be no stranger to the buss feed.com type of “quiz” that abounds and circulates in offices on Friday afternoons. Totally meaningless and devoid of any worth what so ever they seem a tad compelling. For the want of a few clicks on a series of randomly selected statements or pictures we can learn so much about ourselves, anything from our spirit animal; the colour of our aura, (I once had my aura read for real – for real who am I kidding – and was told it had slipped – a bit like my morals then) who’d play us in the movie of our lives; which Shakesperian character we are and all points in between and roundabout. I’m guessing it’s all to do with algorithms or maybe it’s just all complete and utter nonsense, right up there with the idea that everyone born on a certain day of the year shares the same fate. Or anyone born between certain dates is having the same sort of day. And algorithms that’s a thing too, most of us never heard about them until people started scaremongering about said social media’s use of them to dictate what we see on our pages; or how dating agencies help you meet the partner of your dreams. Currently Facebook’s algorithm assessment of me is foisting adverts for slippers, shirts, dating for over 50’s and funeral insurance. But maybe they do have the power of the oracle in which case I’d better get going on that dating for over 50’s thing, before I need the last one of the list.

But what if, what turned up on your FB feed in any given 24 hours, was to be taken as a guide to who you are and what your friends are like.  Not for me a gallery of cat pictures or snaps of what people are planning for lunch, instead I get a regular rant from a friend who abhors people who eat (hot and smelly) food on trains. I suspect it’s a class thing! And if the comments and the shared posts are a sign of anything it’s clear from that most of my friends are pretty depressed, grumpy and permanently angry about so many things.

So I have people getting hot under the collar about the appalling police treatment of the Protesters in London including and the fact that police arrested people bringing food and water to the protesters. The same people are very worried indeed at the plans for Hungary to start taxing internet usage as a challenge to free speech, and anything to do with the creeping privatisation of the NHS is widely decried, as is the suggestion that GPs in England and Wales should, get aid £55 every time they diagnose someone  with dementia.

Women’s issues pretty much go down gender lines with female chums posting and sharing widely the US video of kids using bad language to make a few feminist points about unfairness in the workplace and the fact that 1 in 5 women will be sexually assaulted or raped at some point. One male friend suggested that these were US figures only – as if somehow that was OK! On the issue of young prostitutes in Columbia, the Fox News’ suggestions that pretty young things shouldn’t get involved in politics when they are so many dating sites they could spend time checking out instead, the exploitation of au pairs and the fact that all flexible working means is that its making it “easier” for women to take the double burden of childcare and work, male chums are pretty silent. The hot issue of the EU maternity Directive’s lack of adoption by the Commission ( 4 years after its adoption by the EU Parliament) has caught the eye of only the most European chums, though the fact that post natal depression costs the UK 87 billion  a year is sighted as further proof that women are undervalued in the UK. Men chums on the whole are also quiet on the stories trending about football violence in Europe in the last 24 hours. Neither defending nor decrying it! However on the petition to stop Chad Evans being resigned to his club and the question of whether Oscar P’s sentence was just, those, with one exception, who have commented have shown that their cages have been rattled. Though confusingly they can’t decide if footballers are role models or not and they are more concerned with issues of the impact of the verdict on racism in South Africa than on the impact on the victim’s family.

Those friends who have a healthy scepticism of the police and all things authority don’t just have their activities in Westminster square to howl abut but also the fact that  3  immigration officials have been caught lying on oath and a massive trial has collapsed into the bargain. Yet on the other hand I have friends whose shock at the axe-wielding thug who attacked police seems to be more shocking because the critical victim is a policeman and similarly the pending release of Harry Roberts who killed 3 policemen in 1966 and who has served 45 years for the crime is re-igniting the debate of whether somehow killing a policeman is worse than killing anyone else. I can’t find a link though if the people who claim  Ched Evans has served his time, think the same for Mr Roberts. This tendency to cherry pick moral outrage is a mystery and no mistake, and one fuelled by people’s use of  social media.

Occupy supporters are up on their hind legs too and I’m grateful for the friend who posted up  a list of issues from the 1956 Republican manifesto, it not being what we might expect:

1956 REPUBLICAN PLATFORM

1. Provide Federal assistance to low paid communities

2 Protect Social Security payments

3. Provide asylum for refugees

4. Extend the minimum wage to more people

5. Improve Unemployment Benefit

6. strengthen Labor Laws

7. assure Equal pay between the sexes

Though their disgust at Facebook not paying taxes in the UK for a  second year running is pretty unequivocal

The North South divide, flamed by the post indy lack of progress, is everywhere. From how London will benefit to the tunes of billions from fracking to obscene house prices in London to all things fracking in general and the impact on Scotland, to fury over the BBCs decision to exclude the SNP  from election leaders debates, to outright glee that all supporters of NO seem to be reaping what they sowed by YES consumers turning against them so Michelle Mone is going bust as is Tescos, BBC are losing licence  fee payers and several newspapers circulations are in terminal decline: and to think it was going to be a YES vote that buggered up the Scottish economy. And don’t get them started please on the “official” announcement that far from running out next Thursday oil revenues, due to “new” discoveries, are set to rise and continue for hundreds of year. And I think it’s fair to say that these same folk are dismissive of what the Smith Commission might deliver….. sweet FA being the general view. And there is not enough space in the blogosphere to capture the rabid hatred of the Scottish Labour Party amongst a certain cohort of friends.

But parochial they are not there is widespread shock and condemnation of the shootings in the Canadian parliament though I detect a touch of EBOLA fatigue. Chums aren’t terribly green either there being minimal interest in the selling off of public forests, and people are split between whether Lynnda Bellingham is a national treasure (there is even a post from a friend suggesting we all sign a petition to get her OXO ad back on the telly for Xmas which would serve OXO and their shareholders very well but not any-one else), or whether dying people really should keep it to themselves. And finally friends have posted about and shared links to articles that say we should all wear poppies and alternatively why we should not. Who says Facebook isn’t democratic.

I’m not criticising or applauding people for their choice of posts or shares, some I agree with others I don’t, it’s all just part of this “rich tapestry of life” and other clichés  and I would rather have my typical Facebook day  filled with issues and passion rather than insults and pussycats. Though I’m not entirely immune; interspersed with all this angst and outrage and moral high grounding are the posts about where people have eaten and what they have been to see at the movies or theatre (bit guilty of that myself if truth be told) and the usual first world problems of the horror of the school run, what’s been “Overhead in Waitrose and a smattering of baby photographs.

But for the record just two cats. Oh and in case you were wondering What Kind Of Friend I Am,  apparently I’m a dreamer who is also rather strangely an absurd over achiever and my  Horror Monster Soul Mate this Halloween is the Bride of Frankenstein. Maybe these quizzes aren’t so odd, they may have a point, I was a truly appalling wife back in the day!!