Rev. Jack Kellet
A Scottish Minister looks back on a life of surprises. Including the book being on sale at Amazon for £534
The Leith Glutton reviews Fhior | A Voyage Around The Queen | 900 years and counting Barbary pirates in Leith | The accidental Question Writer
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Acouple of weeks back I was being pulled by the dog towards the Water of Leith when I spied a crowd at the bus stop on Henderson Street. On spotting the towering figure of Tim Bell, I decided to take a shufti and find out what was going on. It transpired this was the unveiling of a new Eduardo Paolozzi mural to replace the old one, which had seen better days after surviving a decade of Scottish weather.
I asked Tim “how can you unveil something that hasn’t been veiled?” He regarded me with that beetle-browed look he has and said something along the lines of “stop playing silly buggers!”
So I sloped off to chat with Callum from the Malt & Hops, who gave me the scoop I wanted: A few lairy lads had passed the mural earlier and assumed the image to be Mikael Gorbachov. They returned later to add a hammer & sickle to Paolozzi’s forehead - gold stars all round for your general knowledge guys!
I seeing a dazzle ship in there? There's pop art!)
“He left for London at a young age and, as a consequence, he has been more feted internationally than at home.”
Some of Eduardo Paolozzi thought processes
I was a Rich Man’s Plaything (seen here) is a 1947 collage by Eduardo Paolozzi that included an image of a gun firing and a white flag with the word POP! on it bursting from the barrel. It is considered a seminal piece of pop art for its use of juxtaposed found objects and it was the first to include the word "pop" in its design, years before Lawrence Alloway coined the term "pop art".
According to one of those present at the Bunk lecture (5 years after the above!) ‘the very notion of culture changed before one’s eyes’… Already in 1952 it was all there: science fiction, sex, technology, the movies, mass advertising, comics, packaging. The ephemeral had been raised to the level of art; the underrated, undervalued and misunderstood had been proposed as the key to an understanding of contemporary culture.
Artist Halla Groves-Raines, the compere John Russell & coordinator Kristín Hannesdóttir enter pavement left. John greets us and then sets off on a wee guide to what we are seeing, and its’ historical context.
“I knew Paolozzi well - among friends he was called Eddy - and this new mural, commissioned by the Friends of the Water of Leith Basins, coincides with the centenary of his birth.
“His family had a café/ice cream shop on Leith Walk before moving it just around the corner to Albert Street. “
Editor interrupts: Curiously, when the first mural went up here in 2014, they discovered an old ice cream shop behind the boards… it’s still there now.
“The mural will of course remain a portrait of Eduardo Paolozzi, only this time as an older man, standing in front of Leith docks. With many recognisable Leith landmarks treated to the pop art stylings seen in much of his work. (Am
Numerous large-scale commissions saw his work transform public spaces including Tottenham Court Road underground station. Newton after Blake in the forecourt of the British Library and Manuscript of Monte Cassino , which deliberately points toward Leith.
In 1994, Paolozzi gave the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art a large body of his works, and much of the content of his studio. In 1999 the National Galleries of Scotland opened the Dean Gallery to display this collection including a recreation of Paolozzi's studio.
Paolozzi was knighted in 1989 and by the end of his life was one of the country’s best-known artists. He died in April 2005 and left a major bequest to the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art. n
Ê Info: The new mural coincides with the centenary of his birth. Commissioned by the Friends of the Water of Leith Basins, with support from #FOWLb #LeithLate #GRASarchitects
10 Simple answers wrapped in flags (union jacks or saltires, even EU ones) are empty nostrums, says Colin Montgomery
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25
Cammy Day on Harry Shanks, a gunner on a Spanish vessel who jumped ship at Hirado near Nagasaki in 1620
In After the Fox, Mature played comedy. And he was hilarious, far funnier than Peter Sellers avers Lawrence Lettice
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Leith was a disreputable port town, a bit rough, a gap site in 1980. Tim Bell’s best move
A historic moment not reported on the news: no politics allowed at the Olympics argues Tracy Griffen
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Cover: Rev. Jack Kellet with family in Leith Links.
Amongst some of us slightly older old gits, we sometimes indulge in impromptu pub banter about our favourite bands and performers (living or dead), our favourite tracks by said artists, which tracks we’d like to send us on our way when the mortal coil has shuffled off, and also, before our inevitable demise, which of these performers we would definitely bend over backwards to see live again.
Given the extremely eclectic company that I keep in the Carriers Quarters, and the fact that our accumulated time on the planet is, shall we say, ample, and also that our tastes converge and diverge quite a bit, these conversations have thrown up some belters over the years.
For my part, no list of acts which I’d like to experience live either again, or because I missed out first time round, would be complete without the Clash, MC5, the Velvet Underground, the Specials, Gram Parsons, and Chet Baker. From that very short shortlist, I’m acutely aware that death has robbed us of ever seeing any of them with their original line-ups ever again.
potential disaster? Well, that’s a very good question.
Recently, Oasis announced that they would be reforming for a UK tour after a lengthy hiatus. Now, let’s get one thing out of the way. It’s got absolutely nothing to do with Noel Gallagher allegedly being hit recently with a £20 million divorce settlement pay-off. Oh no, according to Noel, it’s just all about timing. Definitely. Maybe.
Just recently we lost the last surviving member of MC5, their drummer Dennis ‘Machine Gun’ Thompson. If you’re lucky enough to be young enough to never have heard anything by MC5, check out their live versions Motor City Is Burning and Kick Out The Jams from 1972 on YouTube.
When Wayne Kramer shoulders his Epiphone Coronet guitar on the first track imitating rifle fire, it’s one of the most visceral artistic representations of the disintegration of American society in the early 1970s whilst the Vietnam war was raging and being lost, and widespread inner city violence was in danger of puncturing the false premise of the American dream.
What would you pay now to see Wayne pulling off the same performance as America teeters on the brink of another
In true Oasis style, a fair old rammy has kicked off since the tour was announced as it was soon discovered by their legions of fans that in order to see their working class heroes in all their Stone Island glory, they would need to cave in to what is cutely described as “dynamic pricing.”
This legal rip-off involves prices for tickets being adjusted in relation to demand and supply. So, for example, you may see tickets initially priced at £150, but by the time you’ve navigated the algorithms and queues online, you could be getting charged £350 for the same type of ticket.
Despite all of the ticket outlets claims of this being a legitimate way to do business, it’s just another example of punters being ripped off in broad daylight. And it’s not only a music business grift - airlines, hotels and travel companies do it all the time.
It should be pointed out that in this case, the band have stated that they have nothing to do with ticket sales and leave all that nasty business to promoters and their management. However, Liam responded to fans’ dismay at the set-up in the only way he knows how - by telling said fans to shut up and sarcastically
Inner city violence was in danger of puncturing the false premise of the American dream
sneered that if they were interested, he had shedloads of spare tickets and could get them a “kneeling ticket” for £100,000. Now, there is no doubt that there will be thousands of fans who will love the fact that Liam is still the same old messianic, parka-wearing mouth of the masses who doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks. But do the band seriously expect anyone to believe that they couldn’t have exerted some influence and insisted on a fair ticket price across the board? I’m certainly not buying it.
When the Clash were due to release their fourth studio album, the sprawling, multi-genre Sandanista!, and despite resistance from their CBS label, they agreed to forego royalties from the first 200,000 sales of the treble album in the UK and a 50% cut in royalties elsewhere so that it could be released to fans at an affordable price.
Despite being a doddery old hippy, I’m pretty certain that Oasis would have more clout in these type of negotiations than Joe Strummer and the boys ever did, and could easily have insisted on putting their fans first.
Still, eye-watering ticket prices won’t put off anyone who has a real desire to see Liam strutting around like a seriously pissed off homunculus waggling a tambourine, or from watching Noel ripping off Stevie Wonder on Step Out, the B-side to Don’t Look Back In Anger. Yep, Stevie has a writing credit on Step Out, and also copped 10% of the royalties as Noel acknowledged its striking similarity to Stevie’s Uptight (Everything’s Alright). Mind you, wasn’t it Nick Cave who said that theft is the engine of progress? I like good pop songs wherever they come from, but I certainly won’t be among the acolytes looking back in anger as they get shafted from this lot. n
The magic of the festive season is set to return to the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh this winter as Christmas at the Botanics, the outdoor after-dark spectacular, opens for its eighth year.
Running from 21 November to 30 December, the outdoor trail will once again transform the Garden with an array of new and fantastical installations that have been custom-designed especially for the Botanics by a selection of international and UK-based artists.
The latest new installations confirmed for the trail include:
} Candles will drift over visitors as they flicker and cast their undulating light to create a warm and festive atmosphere. This installation will transport Potterheads to the world of witchcraft and wizardry as it evokes the magic of Hogwarts’ Great Hall. Designed by Pitaya, a French creative studio.
Candles by Pitaya will evoke the magic of Hogwarts’ Great Hall from Harry Potter.
} One Small Thing projects a combination of wildlife imagery and winter foliage with impactful environmental messaging onto a pathway for visitors to interact with as they walk past. This innovative installation will incorporate the Garden’s mission to protect the planet’s biodiversity by encouraging visitors to do one small thing and make space for nature. Created by Novak.
} Firework Trees will shower shoots of light through tree
branches, bringing them to life with vibrant bursts of colour that bounce from branch to branch. Created by Ithaca Studio.
All the new and returning installations along the onemile illuminated trail are low in energy and have been selected to complement the Botanics’ environment.
Regius Keeper of the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh Simon Milne said: “I’m looking forward to seeing the new installations on the trail, which is promising to be innovative, imaginative and entertaining. Visiting the Garden after dark is a special experience and Christmas at the Botanics offers the chance for visitors to see our botanical collection of plants from a very different perspective.
“The trail brings significant benefits to us. We are a Scottish charity, and ticket sales from Christmas at the Botanics help to fund our international plant
research, conservation work and education programmes. So please come along to the trail, bring your friends and family, have some festive fun and help to support our vital work.”
Tickets for this year’s show are on sale now. Visitors are encouraged to book in advance to guarantee their preferred timeslot. For further ticket information, pricing, and timings, please click here.
Christmas at the Botanics is one of 14 illuminated trails staged across the UK by leading events promoter RG Live, a division of Sony Music. Christmas at the Botanics is presented in partnership with the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh and creative producer Culture Creative. n
For more details visit www.rbge. org.uk/christmas and follow @ mychristmastrails on Facebook and Instagram
Welcome to the 86-year old Rev Jack Kellet’s intimate portrait of the off-duty Royals after being invited to Balmoral
The year was 1981. Prince Charles and his bride Diana had arrived home from honeymoon, and I had been invited as guest of Her Majesty for the weekend to preach at Crathie Church on the Sunday.
A letter from the Queen’s chaplain explained I wouldn’t meet her until just before dinner at 8pm. When I should say ‘Your Majesty’ while giving a gracious nod of my head, and thereafter be careful to say ‘Ma’am’ whenever the Queen chose to speak to me.
I got out of my old car and had just started to lift my bag out when I was startled by dogs scurrying out of the castle, then I saw the Queen in a headscarf striding out on the heels of the six corgis. She gave me a smile and a wave. I felt quite nonplussed.
The Queen, having passed me, suddenly turned on her heels and strode towards me, her right hand outstretched and a most lovely smile. “I’m sorry,” she beamed in welcome, “I thought I recognised you as one of my staff, and then realised you must be our minister for the weekend. Is no one here to see to you?”
My valet showed me to my room, unpacked my weekend bag and said: “I’ll be back to take you down at 7 o’clock. It may be that the Queen will ask you to say grace, would you be prepared to do this?” I said that would be a great privilege. “I hope you won’t mind, sir, but I’ve been told to ask you if the grace is likely to be long or short?” On hearing it would be short, the valet said: “Oh, Prince Andrew will be so pleased.”
I was told that at dinner I would be placed to the right of the Queen, and she would talk to me for the first half of the meal. This proved not to be the behaviour of the warm, gracious, and friendly woman who came up to me in the reception room before dinner and resumed our conversation at the table after I had said grace.
When our main course appeared I asked her if it was venison. “It’s roe deer which is much better”, she replied, passing me the only menu and asking if I’d like to take it home for my wife.
Later over dessert, she said: “One day
I was walking the high path, talking with Prime Minister Mr Heath with my man some way behind, when a little yellow plane suddenly appeared low overhead. That was a fright! “Mr Heath’s face turned as red as that” - she pointed to my redcurrant pudding. “It turned out to have been American tourists wanting a look!”
On hearing grace would be kept short, the valet said “Oh, Prince Andrew will be so pleased.”
Indiscreet Margaret
When I slipped into the drawing room at 7 o’clock, Princess Margaret was quizzing the others about when they had first been informed of the date of Charles’s wedding to Diana because she felt she ought to have been one of the first to know and was not.
I took the chance to tell Margaret that my wife and I had enjoyed the televised marriage service. “The cameramen
focused on me when I was looking very sad, as if I disapproved of it all, when the simple truth is I love the hymn I Vow To Thee, My Country, which always moves me deeply,” she said. When I replied that Diana had chosen that hymn, Margaret said she hadn’t known this, adding: “That girl has had a terrible upbringing and the Queen is hoping she will make us her family.”
A sore point Saturday dinner over, I returned to the drawing room. The Queen left to call her mother but returned a few minutes later exclaiming: “She’s too busy to take a call from me, I’m worried because she has a very sore leg, and when I phone the Castle of Mey I’m told she is holding a cocktail party and is not to be disturbed. Sore leg and holding a cocktail party!” Smiles all round. Charles added he also encounters problems: “I’m told I’m being put through but then she presses the ‘wrong button’ and cuts me off.”
Later we met the Queen out for a walk alone looking relaxed. We had a long chat. I said I’d been brought up close to Holyrood Palace and it was rumoured the two Princesses often walked in King’s Park. “Yes, we did,” the Queen said. “I still do.”
“Surely you are recognised now?”
“Oh no. I like to walk whenever I get the opportunity. One summer, sailing up through the islands, I went for a walk and as I was making my way back I came upon a man stretched over a rock gazing through binoculars at the Royal Yacht. I asked, Have you seen much?”
“Not a thing,” he replied. “I’ve been staring for half an hour and I’ve not seen the Queen once.”
“Maybe she’s out for a walk, I said, before carrying on down.” n
Ê Info: Oh! It’s Yersel’, Ya Bugger! by the Reverend Jack
John Tantalon commenced plans for a brand new ghost walk during the Autumn months of 2023. Here’s how it went
Persevere, the Restless Ghosts of Leith is a chapter in my second book Beyond North Edinburgh Nightmares and indeed within are plentiful stories of Leith and its neighbours.
We launched the walks in the final days of March 2024 and have recently completed our final walk for the season. The ninety-minute venture around the back streets of Leith and the shore is not all about ghosts, goblins and things that go bump in the night. With Leith’s history and colourful stories present at every twist and turn, the tour proved a significant success. We shall return next year.
One of the most intriguing sections of our ghost walk is the ‘Mystery Animals of Leith and Lothians’. This part features hair-raising tales such as the famous puma of Fairley’s bar, the Kirkgate crocodile, and giant paw prints visible upon a snow-covered Newhaven harbour. The Leith puma story, a favourite among our attendees, is often accompanied by their own anecdotes.
Many animals would appear from the bustling port and end up in homes and pet shops throughout the city. There has been more than one pet monkey story and even a pet shop in Fountainbridge featuring a lion cub. The Dangerous Wild Animals Act of 1976 put an end to any animal antics in the city. However, many other great stories have emerged from the Port of Leith, and the following tale is one of my favourites.
The story begins in 1633 when an Edinburgh man named Andrew Gray was arrested and imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle. Charged with the crime of assaulting The Lord Provost, Sir Alexander Clerk of Pittencrieff, the accused man was surely destined for the gallows.
In a courageous act of escape, Andrew Gray descended the castle wall and fled across the Nor Loch aided by accomplices in a small boat. Andrew and his crew fled across The Forth and were gone, but was this the end of the story?
Some 12 years later, the good citizens of Leith stood confronted with a terrifying scenario. Seeing a fearsome pirate vessel heading towards the port filled seasoned sailors with fear. The boat
Andrew Gray’s effigy remains on the wall of The Canongate property to this day
flew the standard of Barbary pirates, recognised as a suitably brutal crew of cutthroats and villains.
After landing a ten-strong pirate horde in Leith, the men marched towards Edinburgh, where they halted at the Netherbow Gate. The men demanded entry to the city and parley with the Mayor, but their demands could not be met.
Edinburgh remained in a state of lockdown at that time. A fierce plague had decimated the capital, and the Mayor’s only daughter lay close to death. The pirate leader commented that plagues did not concern him and that the Mayor and his daughter should be brought to join his company.
The pirate took up residence in a property situated in The Canongate. It was here that he met with the Mayor and his dying daughter.
of Edinburgh Castle, the condemned Gray and his cohorts proceeded along The Forth. It was during their travels that their small vessel was captured by pirates and the crew enslaved.
Andrew Gray was an intelligent and coordinated man and with this his qualities were noticed by the ship’s captain. Gray joined the motley crew and climbed the ranks of the Moorish pirate ensemble. The enraged Andrew Gray swore vengeance upon the city that had sentenced him to death, so many years ago.
…the most intriguing section of our ghost walk is the Mystery Animals of Leith and Lothians
He produced what he described as ‘an elixir of wondrous potency’. True to his word, he cured the Mayor’s daughter, who made a speedy recovery from the deadly illness. The astounded Mayor deemed the pirate a genius and a man worthy of his daughter’s hand in marriage.
The pirate accepted the proposal and remained in the city as a man of notable wealth, where he would live out a suitably charmed life in The Canongate (his effigy remains upon the wall of the property today). But dear readers, where does Andrew Gray fit into this suitably swashbuckling tale?
Upon escaping from the confines
Upon returning to Leith and venturing to Edinburgh he did not find the bloody vengeance he had pursued but instead found love and an escape from his seafaring days as a Barbary pirate. This unexpected turn of events is just one of the many fascinating stories you will hear on our Haunted Leith Ghost Walk
If ou’ve ever dreamed of living a pirate’s life, then Ocean Terminal is the place to be this autumn. Join the award-winning singer-songwriter Joss Cameron and The Tally Toor Sea Shanty Crew for a unique experience.
Joss is looking for shipmates to join her shanty crew and sing your hearts out within The Wee Museum of Memory in Ocean Terminal. Boarding commences on Saturday 5th October at 11am. The event will run every Saturday until 30th November. n
Ê Contact: Joss at josscameronmusic@yahoo.com
Utopia is easy to promise, but hard to deliver. Are we being sold a pipedream by political masters? Colin Montgomery stirs the pot
It’s 50 years since the classic TV sitcom Porridge made its debut on the BBC. I watched the 1973 pilot the other night and it is as good as anything that appeared over the next three series of the show that ran from 1974-77.
For me, Porridge is as near to perfection as you can get re: sitcoms. Characterisation, plots, and the dialogue. Oh… that dialogue. It ain’t fashionable to celebrate it now, owing to a lot of the references being ahem… ‘of their time’. But give or take the odd clunky moment - barely enough to fill a scrap of prisonissue notepaper - and if you can see past the censoriousness of the ‘now’, Porridge’s way with words is utter genius.
Not just for the zingers – and believe me, they’re on tap – but for the ebb, flow and authentic rhythm of the script. Emotionally, as well as linguistically. There’s one episode – episode four of series one – called ‘A Night In’ that features pretty much just lead characters Fletcher and Godber (actors, Barker and Beckinsale) chewing the fat about life, the universe and everything, as seen through the filter of incarceration. Just them in a
cell, one set, no music, just dialogue, and the audience. Could be theatre really. Such perfection born of imperfection (the implicitly imperfect nature of the characters, their crimes and their situation). The yin meets the yang down a back alley for a quick shag, and from this coupling comes something brilliant – grounded not in Panglossian optimism but a kind of resilient realism; an acceptance that to envisage a life with no pain, no struggle and no flaws, where all is fair and just, is a fool’s errand.
I’ll tell you what I think it is: a grievous, disingenuous and almost criminal lie. One taught in the Big Rock Candy Mountain School of Politics. And in the class photo you’ll find pupils from across the political spectrum. But, sticking to Scotland, the worst of such nonsense has
been propagated by the crew currently in power. All upsides and no downsides. McCakeism if you will. And it’s left us staring at crumbs.
Take the principle of universalism beloved of said state actors – that all things should, as much as possible, be available to all folks, for ‘free’ (a misnomer; nothing comes without a price, literally or otherwise). Nice theory. And even makes sense if you believe that using that policy to close off other costly consequences of the iniquities of beastly old modern-day capitalism, i.e. we invest in the well-being of the nation to thwart ‘want’, ‘hunger’, ‘ignorance’ and all the other evils of the Beveridge Report. Except… … the outcomes say otherwise. Are life outcomes demonstrably better in Scotland as a result? Drugs. Alcohol. Poverty. Homelessness. It’s as though we’re going backwards. As though just chucking dosh at everything with a preening self-regard born of an assumed moral superiority isn’t really – practically speaking – doing anything other than shoring up a political narrative. “No matter. The feels are good.”
But surely, it’s better to laser-target support at those really struggling, falling short, or unable to help themselves for any number of reasons? Not for people who are doing OK like me? That said, there but for the grace of God etc. One day I might need a helping hand – and if that day comes, I’ll be glad of it. But again, surely it’s a safety net, not a comfort blanket.
Utopia, Limited; or, The Flowers of Progress with music by Arthur Sullivan and libretto by W. S. Gilbert; Rutland Barrington as King Paramount
That comes from someone who believed in it all. Big time. A passionate disciple, fiery idealist, and brow-beater all rolled up in one – what a charmer eh? I thought that it signalled a kind of virtuous intent that separated me from a horrendous caricature of the ‘other’, i.e. those who didn’t buy into the vision. It also, to my mind, would be achievable simply by making a cross in a box marked ‘Yes’. Spoiler alert: it isn’t. That’s magical thinking. As credible as the right’s trickledown economics.
This comes from someone who believed; a passionate disciple, fiery idealist, and brow-beater all rolled up in one
Simple answers wrapped in flags (union jacks or saltires, heck even EU ones) are empty nostrums. Promises written in air, in invisible ink. As we’ve seen now, everything must be accounted for. Even as part of the UK, with a lender of last resort, its own central bank, and its own currency, you can’t just buy or borrow your way to utopia within the terms set by this rotten global system. To pretend that you can, that we can offer all things to all, and with no downsides, is to subscribe to an infantilisation.
To put it another way, we’ve become prisoners of expectations engineered by folks who should know better. Thus many end up trapped by the hollow belief that all it takes is for our chosen champions to ride in for things to ‘change’, one big push politically will right the ship. Or a moment of empowerment will finally unshackle us – call it sovereignty or cloak it in the spiel of the common weal if you will (see Brexit; it won’t). The pursuit of an imagined idyll. Just beyond the barred windows. We deserve better. n
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The first time he phones it’s early in the week and I don’t answer. I’m not expecting to hear from him on a workday and sometimes his kids get hold of his phone. A few days later he phones again and again I don’t answer. The third time, no, there’s no third time, no Peter-and-thecock-crows-thrice tidy metaphor here. At the end of the week, it’s me who phones. His wife answers and the news she has is the kind you really need to be sitting down for.
I don’t give the eulogy; his oldest boy does, gran at his shoulder and turning the pages for him. Best of luck following that, says the Vicar as she introduces me. And there in the front row is his wife, his four boys, his mum, his dad, his sister. This is a please-no-black-attire funeral and my shirt’s as red as Moira Shearer’s ballet pumps in The Red Shoes. I hold tight to the lectern determined that it won’t dance me round the room.
Picture a rainy day in Scotland, I say, dreich being the word (a word I wish to sound exotic in a Church of England hall) and we’re on the Isle of Mull, driving back to the ferry. This is the year Kinnock loses the election to Major, I say, and P has yet to out himself. (Pause.) As a Wycombe Wanders supporter, I say. (I pause again and look up from the page, trying but failing not to catch anyone’s eye.)
The car radio is playing Kirsty MacColl’s cover of a Ray Davies song. (As I say it I relive it like it was if not yesterday exactly then last month or next Wednesday or the date on a calendar page to be blown away in the frame of a Hollywood cliché. And I quote the lyric:) “I’m thinking of the days, I won’t forget a single day, believe me.”
From that holiday, no more than a long weekend really, lingers the magic of memory. Playing pool, slotting coins in the jukebox
– that’s how long ago this was – climbing half a Munro. (I’m all for retrospective heckling of oneself. WTAF is half a Munro?) One evening we even find ourselves helping a frog across the road. (Sure it wasn’t a toad, you eejit?) A magical Spring Watch moment. And who’d guess 25 years later P would be Astro-turfing his back garden?
(I pause again but don’t think I lift my head this time.) I first met him at high school in the early eighties. The cleverest kid in the class. He was the one the economics teacher would hand the chalk to and plead—“Can you help us out here, P?” He always could.
(I shift my tone and quote the man himself, having checked our texts.) Recently I sought his views on our eldest’s flirtation with investments—“Bitcoin huh?
The class A of the punting world!” Before Christmas, P asked me if Celtic would win the league. (This was the season cut short by COVID.) We were having a wobbly spell and the odds were unusually favourable. But win we did – by 13 points. Be sure and find that betting slip. (The lectern wants to dance again but I’m not humouring Powell and Pressburger today.)
In 2009 P encouraged me to come and see Celtic play Hapoel Tel Aviv. A ridiculous idea for a Guardian reader. (I don’t say this was between intifadas or that I’d run the idea past a friend involved in the Scottish Palestine Solidarity Campaign.)
I booked my flight. After a 2-1 defeat, he took me for a consolation drink. We sipped icecold Guinness, watching the Mediterranean waves – and discussing, you know, kids, work, music, geo-politics, Oxford United. (I feel my shoulders start to loosen.)
The last time I didn’t see P was last May. It was the day of the school fete and timings weren’t quite working out. Then a text—“I’m in the pub near the station having a quiet pint with the pooch.”
I replied—“Ach, just jumped on the train… next time!”
Next time…(This one is the longest pause yet.)
When he asked me in ’99 to be his best man for a second time, I said “sure – but don’t go expecting a hattrick”. (Now second longest.) But here I am giving a speech again…
This is a please no black attire funeral and my shirt’s as red as Moira Shearer’s ballet pumps in The Red Shoes
What I don’t say in the church but what I replay in my head, sometimes when walking on Portobello beach with Aphex Twin or Alice Coltrane in my ears, is P driving us in a 4x4 down that winding Israeli highway towards the Dead Sea, his and my boys bickering in the back, him and me drinking takeaway coffee, him conducting a work conference call with his boss, holding a conversation with me about whatever nonsense was on my mind, now and then turning around to remonstrate with the boys, doing all this simultaneously, at least in my glitching memory of this scene.
How he does this I don’t know but in the words of the Kink and wizard of Muswell Hill—“Life is what you conjure.” n Rodger Evans
Though, he adds, as with most such neat turns of phrase, nobody seems sure who said it first. One of the victors, presumably. Or perhaps it was one of the vanquished, only for a victor to overhear them and think, “I’m having that”.
On a similar tack, it also seems reasonable to conclude that advice is generally sought from, and delivered by, the successful. And that’s only logical really. You wouldn’t want your Ted talk on leadership and financial management to be delivered by Liz Truss.
But occasionally the discrepancy between the expertise of the adviser and the lack of expertise of the advised is so great as to be counterproductive. In the admittedly unlikely event that Lionel Messi decided to be my footballing mentor, naturally I’d be all ears.
Except the chasm between our relative skills and experience would be such that most of his guidance would be entirely wasted. In purely practical terms, I’d get way more out of a coaching session from a grizzled Lowland League centre half on how to nobble an opposing forward at a corner without the ref noticing.
It’s with that slightly shaky premise in mind that I take you through my experience of navigating the creative industries. Specifically, I can offer the perspective of someone whose achievements in said industries have been modest, infrequent and slow to arrive. In other words, the TV equivalent of a grizzled Lowland League centre half.
Here’s a quick summary of the story so far. I meandered my way through school and university, with reasonable success. I never had much idea of what I might do afterwards, though I always felt able to spot the things I didn’t want to do and cross them off an imaginary list. As there are a lot of different jobs in the world, this soon became quite a long imaginary list.
I meandered my way into a job, of a type that hadn’t yet made my imaginary list, and got promoted a couple of times. Without meaning to, I’d found my way into a vaguely responsible job that paid decent money. It was a pretty good place to work, all told, and I got on with most
people. But for reasons I couldn’t fully pin down, it seemed to be edging its way ever closer to the imaginary list.
Off the back of the 2008 financial crash, our organisation committed to a programme of redundancies. Most people, sensibly enough, took fright at this and took steps to secure their positions. I took the view that whatever I wanted to do in the long term, it wasn’t this, so if someone was going to offer me a bit of cash to get on my bike, I’d be delighted to accept.
After all, I had no mortgage, no kids, no commitments. It didn’t really occur to me that I might end up with all those things at some point.
usually exceeded my aptitude. I worked with a lot of people with degrees in drama or fine art. A specific episode of Spaced kept on coming to mind. I was pretty skint. Yet most of these jobs weren’t on – and still aren’t on – the imaginary list.
Come lockdown, a stroke of luck. While doomscrolling away, I meandered into an opportunity: a call for would-be question writers for a TV quiz show. I wrote a few sample questions, had a quick interview over Zoom, and suddenly I was writing for TV.
I wrote a few sample questions, had a quick interview over Zoom, and suddenly I was writing for TV
Gainfully unemployed, but with enough cash to get by for a while, I explored a few pipe dreams. I wrote a book; which people tell me is an achievement in itself. It’s not one that’s particularly straightforward to monetise though – especially if nobody publishes it.
Friends urged me to keep trying, usually citing the story of some author who had found a publisher after years of rejections and gone on to fame and fortune. But that all sounded exhausting and vaguely humiliating. And anyway, my book wasn’t very good. I stopped trying.
Slightly grumpy at the way that good things would stubbornly refuse to fall into my lap, I ended up in various bar and kitchen jobs, for which my enthusiasm
The strictures of writing creatively within largely inflexible quiz formats seem to suit my often flighty mind. It turns out I’m better at self-expression when the parameters are defined with absolute clarity by somebody else. This, I suspect, is why my questions are mostly good when my book was mostly not.
On occasion, I see people from my old work and allow myself a Sliding Doors moment, imagining what life might look like if I’d gritted my teeth, suppressed my instinct to escape and carried on working my way up the career ladder.
I’d have a bigger house, a generous pension and loads more suits. Was it worth giving all that up for years of late nights and low pay, just for the eventual (and infrequent) reward of seeing stuff I’ve written on prime time telly, or getting to meet Jeff Stelling?
Yes. Yes, it absolutely was. n
Amos Karahi
Fhior 36 Broughton Street ( 0131 477 5000 8 info@fhior.com
Ah, there it was, stuck on the pin board as a reminder – but we’d totally forgotten. I’m very fond of a restaurant voucher as a birthday gift. No need to find space for that questionable ornament from your auntie. Not another bottle of plonk. No need to return the book to Waterstone’s, availing of that helpful national pretence whereby the staff politely believe that you’ve just misplaced the receipt.
No, a restaurant voucher is a great present. There’s an initial shudder of excitement at opening, followed by months of pleasing anticipation. At least, when you don’t forget about it.
And so there it was, beaming out from underneath a scribbled phone number for a dull but necessary tradesman. Lunch for two at Fhior, it said, and I got restaurant excitement shudder all over again.
Chef Scott Smith offers a ten-course tasting menu and, I am pleased to see, an a-la-carte option. Neither are cheap, but cooking of this quality can’t be. Service is flawless, the suppliers are the best in Scotland, and ultimately the diner has to pay for both.
From the snack menu, we share the panisse. This was a highly refined interpretation of the casual Marseille street food. Gram flour was formed into sharp-edged and delicate batons, dusted with wild leeks, and served with an apple BBQ sauce. “It’s our take on KFC,” the cheery Scottish waitress explains, although the reference is lost on this glutton.
I’d been before, some years ago, with friends who generously treated me to a significant birthday meal. We drank a lot, and I remember someone jumping online and mistakenly ordering £50 of moth repellent papers whilst waiting for dessert to arrive. But I can’t remember a single thing we ate.
By contrast, I’ll remember this lunch for a long time. It was utterly superb. We really are living through a golden age of Edinburgh fine dining and Fhior is top-tier.
Now, I will say something about the butter. It is excellent: pungent, cheesy, fermented and just at the right point between solid and liquid; a veritable triumph of materials science. It sat on a sort of ceramic pebble, as is the vogue these days, and was set apart with a smear of brunost, the fudgy brown Norwegian cheese. Bread and butter like this counts as a course on its own.
To start, we both order wagyu tartare. The Yorkshire beef had excellent flavour, the fat lifted by celeriac and piquant sorrel. The wagyu fat crostini were impressively thin. It simply could not have been presented better. Wagyu has rather become the salted caramel of the meat world: served too frequently, and usually badly, but utterly wonderful in the hands of a great chef. Clearly Scott Smith is one.
Main dishes are a chunky £34 a piece. I have hogget. The lamb is pan-roasted,
which I take to mean it was seared on the hob and finished in the oven. It was flawless, with loin as soft as the butter and the most flavourful brisket. A lamb fat courgette was latticed with a paler courgette puree. Astride the dish, in its own bowl, came some confit lamb and silky potatoes - accurately badged as stovies, but wonderfully elevated. “The lamb comes from a family in the Borders where they’ve been farming since the 12th century,” the cheery Canadian waiter said.
I’m not sure whether that claim would stand up to documentary evidence, but the lamb is damn good. I can see why those Border reivers did all that reiving. Across the table, duck breast nests in a duck ragu with a duck XO sauce. The bird had been flown up from St Bride’s farm in Strathaven, which is surely the best badelynge in Scotland. The flavour was as good a duck as I have tasted.
To finish, there was a strawberry ‘mar-granita’: crushed berries, ice-cream, and salted mezcal frozen ice. Super
refreshing. I had a chocolate ganache, gooseberry sorbet, meringue and sprinkles wild rose. It was, reader, as good as it sounds. Two delightful mignardise arrive: a toasted marshmallow on a pine skewer, and a fun little chocolate mushroom which showed advanced patisserie skill.
The lamb is damned good, I see why those Border reivers did all that reiving
A word on the wine: it’s a great selection. We drank a bottle of Greek red from the Peloponnese, a region those outside Greece are just waking up to. There are two wine lists, separated by price. The normal list is interesting and sorted by flavour profile: elegant, juicy, intense, medium-bodied and so on. For those with means, the second list offers bottles which have three digits in the price, not two.
Without the voucher, lunch for two including wine would have been £220. We come home and search the pin board for further restaurant vouchers, sadly to no avail.
Hopefully someone’s reading this.
Kennedy Wilson looks at three intriguingly secret and scandalous books
In the latter half of the 20th century ‘music was the key medium for which homosexuality was discussed in the wider culture’, writes Jon Savage in his new book The Secret Public: How LGBTQ Resistance Shaped Popular Culture 1955–1979 (Faber £20). ‘The gay themes and images that emerged in music and mass media seemed to come out of nowhere, but they were the product of a prolonged struggle on the ground’.
Much of this influence was kept secret from the public. Anyone under the age of 25, used to a world festooned with rainbow bunting, will struggle to imagine a time when gay life was criminalised and gay men and lesbians were harassed by the police and pilloried in the press.
Savage’s hugely readable history tells of the LGBT influence on popular culture from Billy Fury to Bowie. From the early days gay performers lived in fear of exposure and powerful gay puppet masters and producers – Larry Parnes, Joe Meek, Brian Epstein, Robert Stigwood – helped them hide their love away.
Notable among these was singer Dusty Springfield. Rumours about her sexuality swirled after her rise to near national treasure status in 1966. She was adored by gay men for her theatricality. The raw emotion in her songs was accentuated by a visible vulnerability beneath the beehive and the panda eyes.
At some reputational risk Dusty made regular forays into the nascent gay scene in London, often spotted at the Gateways club, one of the first safe spaces for lesbians. The venue was featured in the hateful 1968 film The Killing of Sister George in which gay women were portrayed as self-lacerating predators.
Jon Savage covers other aspects of secret pop culture from Warhol’s explicit underground movies to the gay Scot, John Stephen, who virtually invented the Mods. There’s much on glam rock and a long disquisition on disco that most reviled yet pivotal of all pop genres.
Humourist Craig Brown looks at another old queen in A Voyage Around The Queen (4th Estate £25). Even for ardent republicans this is an absolute treat. The most famous woman on the planet, she appeared on the covers of magazine since the age of three. But is there anything left to be said about Elizabeth II?
Auschwitz; that the corgis were evil little ankle-biters; that the Queen was the most photographed person in human history? How did Idi Amin, the butcher of Uganda, and the Sex Pistols nearly disrupt the Silver Jubilee? Why did the author find his visit to the former royal yacht Britannia in Leith so utterly hilarious?
A news photograph reproduced in the book shows a 1953 coronation street party. Kiddies sit at a long table tucking into jelly and ice cream. Mums stand sentry. In the background redbrick terrace houses sport union jacks and bunting but one at the end seems to have the ground floor boarded up. It could be any coronation street. But it’s not. It’s Rillington Place in Notting Hill. The boarded-up house was the former home of serial killer John Christie.
Probably, but not definitively. The grisly and sordid Christie killings have been refocussed in Kate Summerscale’s The Peepshow (Bloomsbury £19.80) which gives a face to the female victims and the context in which they met their horrendous fate. With women’s wages a lot less than men’s, austerity Britain made it hard for many workingclass women who often resorted to prostitution to earn extra and to backstreet abortionists to end unwanted pregnancies.
Conman John ‘Reg’ Christie was a mild-mannered former reserve policeman. He was above average intelligence (and above the law, or so he thought). He was good with children, an animal lover, a polite man who was also a self-important sniveller, a pornographer and a necrophiliac.
Well, yes there is. Part biography, part cultural history, Brown weaves a skilful tapestry of humorous factoids and barely-credible coincidences.
Did you know that Anne Frank kept pictures of Princess Elizabeth on the wall of her annex and years later the Queen visited Anne’s grave in
Brown takes up the story: ‘the day before the photograph was taken [Christie] confessed to the murder of two women whose skeletons had been found in the back garden. In all, he probably killed seven women and a baby. He was responsible for another death, Timothy Evans who had been renting an upstairs flat was executed for the murder of his wife and child; it now seems probable that the perpetrator was Christie’.
A coronation street party takes place in front of the newly boardedup house of serial killer John Christie
The case became a renowned miscarriage of justice and helped end capital punishment in Britain. Summerscale – in devastating, novelistic prose – tells of the crimes and the Old Bailey trial that became a media circus replete with star tabloid reporters attempting to out-do each other and pontificating celebrities.
Was Christie an evil monster who hated women? Was he medically insane? And, more crucially, might Evans not be the entire innocent he was painted? n
Ê X: KenWilson84
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Did you know that the first Scot to visit Japan was from Leith? Asks Cammy Day
Iconfessed my ignorance to the question posed by Professor Ian Gow of Stirling University, who was explaining his recent research findings.
He discovered that Harry Shanks, born around 1580, was a gunner on a Spanish vessel when he jumped ship at Hirado near Nagasaki in 1620 and lived in the English trading post there. Although Harry later gained a reputation as a ‘womaniser’ and lover of drink, he left his money to Trinity House in Leith to be used for charitable purposes.
It’s a pity that information on Harry is so limited as he lived in Japan at a
has been the home of Scottish Kings and Queens, successive Scottish Parliaments, the distinctive Scottish legal system and the Enlightenment.
Why be concerned about our local history? One reason is that it is interesting in and of itself. For politicians like me trying to manage a city growing in population an appreciation of local history may help. When we make plans we need to be sensitive to history and traditions and the role they have played in forming the culture of the local area.
Equally, if all residents understand local history, it could help make the changes occur more harmoniously.
In areas such as Leith, which has seen the decline of older industries and the growth of the service sector and where there have been numerous new housing developments to accommodate the city’s increased population, it helps
Harry Shanks, was a gunner on a Spanish vessel when he jumped ship at Hirado near Nagasaki in 1620
Leith and Edinburgh have an odd relationship. At times Edinburgh has held back Leith’s progress. For example Leith merchants in medieval times had to take their merchandise up to the town centre to be weighed and measured. On the other hand would Leith have become Scotland’s leading port if it wasn’t part of Scotland capital city?
Leith has contributed much to the city. Its trading background gave the city an international focus. Its craft guilds added a democratic spirit to a city which was notoriously slow in accepting a widening of the franchise. It had shipbuilding, glass and engineering at its industrial heart. It’s difficult to imagine an industrial dispute as fractious and heated as the dockers strike of 1913 taking place in any other part of the city. Of course Leith’s almost 100 years as a separate burgh ended in 1920 despite a
fascinating time, just after the Shogun had overthrown the Emperor and shortly before the country closed its doors to the rest of the world. What a tale Harry could have told!
I mention Ian Gow’s research on Harry Shanks as precisely the type of information I hope will emerge from Edinburgh Council’s celebration of the 900th anniversary of the royal charter in 1124 establishing Edinburgh as a burgh. Local residents and groups were encouraged to research topics in their own areas and to publicise their findings. The Council provided grants and advice with celebrations starting last month.
Of course much attention will be paid to the role the city centre has played in the growth not only of the city but in the history of Scotland. Edinburgh has expanded from a quarter of a square mile to 102 in that time. In which time it
the new residents to understand the distinctiveness of Leith. It should not be seen as ‘just another part of Edinburgh’. Along the coast at Granton, these concerns are right at the heart of the way we are taking forward the huge new developments there.
That’s why we must move away from the idea of the history of Edinburgh as the history of the city centre. It continues today with cruise ship passengers getting on buses and bypassing the port areas for the World Heritage sites. I hope the 900 celebration acts as a trigger to highlight the histories of other parts of the city.
Particularly those in the north, where I have lived for most of my life. It would be great if we could find out more about Harry Shanks but there is much more about the history of Leith to investigate and publicise.
In 1850 the world’s first train ferry, Leviathan, took goods wagons to Burntisland in Fife
plebiscite opposing amalgamation. The fact that the built up areas of the two burghs had progressively converged made amalgamation inevitable at some stage. It is said that a pub straddling both sides of the boundary had different closing times. Depending on whether you lived in Leith or Edinburgh. Further along the coast I look forward to finding out more about Newhaven’s fishing traditions, its role in the pioneering days of photography and the building of The Great Michael - the largest ship in the world in the early 1500s. In Granton, the story of the world’s first train ferry and the areas role in the development of electric cars are other areas of interest.
Edinburgh’s 900 year story is far more than the story of the Old and New towns. We look forward to digging up and celebrating more neglected tales. n
For a number of reasons. It’s buzz and vibe. It’s internationalism. It’s passion for social change. It’s community spirit. It’s various, superb small businesses. The wide-ranging, generous charities. The Walk. The Shore. The Port. The dynamism. The list goes on…
And over recent decades Leith has had some excellent parliamentarians, who’ve worked hard to serve all of what makes Leith remarkable – public servants with compassion, wisdom, commitment and courage. From Ron Brown to Mark Lazarowicz to Deidre Brock, Leith has benefitted from principled voices at Westminster, whether Labour or SNP. And, while I of course accept the democratic result, Deidre’s loss is a loss for Leith.
Deidre and her team got results for local people. She stood up regularly in the House of Commons to challenge injustice and damaging policies. During the last 9 years she made a meaningful difference for many and represented our area admirably. Her fighting spirit will be missed and, as an increasing number of people have said to me in recent months, “Leith has lost a really good local MP.” Agreed.
Things move on though and, particularly in the recent transitional months of upheaval between MPs, my team and I have stepped up to do even more for the area, and with an unrelenting focus on working for the common good and in interests of local people. Indeed, one of many reasons why I put myself forward to stand for the Scottish Parliament in 2016 was because Leith was used to having a constructive, engaged, pro-active MSP in the then retiring Malcolm Chisholm, and I thought Leith would probably like another one.
Malcolm is someone I have long admired and, since our handover, I’ve worked to serve this area in a similarly
constructive, engaged, pro-active style. That’s what I’ve endeavoured to be – by being myself – for over 8 years now: a hard-working local representative.
All of my experience working outside of politics, until 2016, and during all the years that I’ve been in the Scottish Parliament, I have held a strong belief that most people just want their politicians to try to get on, disagree respectfully, work together as much as reasonable, and – most importantly –deliver solutions and positive change.
The more I am involved in politics the more my belief in working for a better way of doing politics is affirmed. And in that spirit, I will endeavour to work collaboratively with Tracy Gilbert MP in good faith, to serve all the people we both represent. Especially at an important time for our country, nearly a quarter of the way into this century…
We face many challenges – locally, nationally and internationally – but there is a lot of good progress being made, which keeps me optimistic. On a macro level, 25 years since reconvening, the Scottish Parliament continues to make a meaningful impact in our everyday lives. Yes, there is still much to improve and still to achieve, but everyday I’m proud that our Scottish Parliament makes things a bit easier and better for many people. We must keep this progress up if we’re to reach our collective potential.
Locally, bit-by-bit, despite tricky times more widely, we are making progress and improvements in various different ways too. For example, recently I established a stakeholder group for the Shore area and Water of Leith basins, which is already yielding results by helping parties to work together.
We’re determined to see the water areas improved and the Shore road re-cobbled, potentially in time from the Visitor Levy (that I campaigned for along with a number of others). And those
involved in creating the new Paolozzi mural has gifted Leith something for us all to smile about and appreciate – thank you to everyone who made it happen! Moreover, the Port of Leith renewables hub development is really exciting, and I’m working hard and collaboratively to help secure further investment, like Vestas’ proposals to establish a major offshore wind manufacturing facility and hundreds of additional jobs.
The plans for the Customs House are impressively innovative and inclusive, and the trust are now looking at how to fund it all. A digital exhibition facility would bring multiple new opportunities!
I continue to work with Leith Theatre to support them in getting the resources they need, to become the Barrowlands of the east and perhaps an even better venue for live music. Recently I also used my voice to represent local artists concerned about Creative Scotland’s Open Fund, which I was glad and grateful to see the Scottish Government decide to continue to finance.
And the film and production sector in our area continues to go from strength to strength, from the film studio to many creative businesses doing different, interesting things with screen, sound and animation. With tech and computer games companies thriving in our area too, we really are a hub of innovation – which is why I continue to look for opportunities for more affordable studio space, including potentially reusing part of the Scottish Government’s Victoria Quay building
Police Station formerly Leith City Chambers; Deidre Brock, Rev Dr Iain May, Ben; The Museum of Fire & Heritage
for this. The building is underused since the pandemic because more civil servants are now working from home.
I’m also campaigning for the Leith Police Station to move into a new public services hub in Victoria Quay too (as the current police station is in the old Leith City Chambers – which isn’t fit for 21st century policing and the chambers should also be a historic landmark that the public can access to see).
I’ve been supporting local fire fighters at McDonald Road too, who do an inspirational job to help keep us all safe. If you’re in that area I’d recommend checking out the Museum of Fire Heritage, which is fascinating.
It’s remarkable that 200 years ago, in 1824, the first municipal fire service was created in Edinburgh.
Lastly, Leith’s hospitality sector continues to flourish with the still fairly new distillery an increasingly luring destination, new spots opening with fresh offers, and older favourites continually popular, like the recently award winning Teuchters Landing.
Community singing group for people with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) and other long term lung conditions.
Singing has positive physical, mental and social health benefits Co me and join one of our sessions and feel the benefit of our natural breathing exercises, singing, and great company! Duncan Place Community and Enterprise Hub, 4 Duncan Place, Edinburgh EH6 8HW M ondayfortnightly11.45-1.45pm
The new Paolozzi mural has gifted Leith something for us to appreciate and smile about
These are just some of the brilliant local organisations and causes that my team and I have worked to assist, recognise and support in the last months. I’m here if you have any issues and concerns but also if you think I can help with initiatives and ideas – in a constructive spirit, whoever you vote for.
It’s a challenging time but there’s plenty to be optimistic about and working towards. We persevere. n
Ê X: @benmacpherson
Hollywood movie stars come in all shapes, sizes and levels of fame says Lawrence Lettice
There are a select few for whom the public has an endless fascination, which shows no sign of abatement. For example, Marilyn Monroe, Humphrey Bogart, James Dean, Audrey Hepburn and John Wayne are as revered today, as they were during the height of their movie success.
Equally however, there are a number of stars that have slipped off the radar, known to a mere handful of devoted fans. One such lost individual (once described as ‘The Incredible Hunk’), was Victor Mature. A larger-than-life screen presence (best exemplified as a Biblical strongman in Samson and Delilah and Demetrius and the Gladiator) who filled the huge cinema screens throughout much of the 1940s & 1950s.
Yet this Hollywood star’s neglect is perhaps coming to an end – courtesy of his daughter Victoria. At this year’s Edinburgh Fringe, Ms Mature (a vivacious lady with her own acclaimed career as an accomplished opera singer) presented her one-woman as a tribute to his memory.
One clever and amusing aspect of the show (created with great technical skill by her director and partner, Pete Shaner) involved inserting Ms Mature into scenes from her dad’s films, interacting as if appearing together. It was amazing and impressively edited, father and daughter seamlessly converse – straight out of an old 1940s movie.
With this, she is attempting to raise awareness of his life and career, whilst also looking to rehabilitate his reputation and enhance his screen legacy; something that has by and large, been overlooked in modern times.
After becoming acquainted with them both (via social media), I showed them a touch of good old fashioned Leith hospitality by taking them to Vittorias restaurant. Throughout the meal we amiably chatted about her dad’s movies, tales of old Hollywood, travels to far flung locations and the marked distinctiveness and contrast between Scotch malt whisky and a good Kentucky Bourbon. Victoria even chatted away in fluent Italian with the waiters and owner Tony Crolla in between the pasta dishes, and a variety of movie memories. It was an evening I will always remember.
Victor Mature was nothing if not game, exerting macho confidence while tackling noir thrillers, westerns, musicals, sword and toga epics (a
specialty of his) and even the odd farcical comedy. After all, how many screen stars can claim to have appeared opposite everyone. From Rita Hayworth to Richard Burton, Clark Gable to Diana Dors, and Orson Welles to…the Monkees!
That last crazy collaboration between Mature and America’s version of The Beatles - in the film Head - proved to be a bizarre, surreal, psychedelic musical mind trip (no doubt assisted by some illegal substances!) that was co-written and co-produced by Jack Nicholson, no less.
Looking back, my own personal memories of Victor Mature originate from two specific visits to that much loved old fleapit of a picture house, affectionately known as The Salon Cinema at 5 Baxter’s Place. Where I saw the western The Last Frontier and The Sharkfighters …the Jaws of its day.
You could say that Victor Mature was no method actor. Nor it seems did he harbor pretensions in embracing cinema as an art form. He was considered a hard-working professional who (from the surface anyway) appeared to happily go along with the old studio contract system. He may not have won any Oscars, but he gave millions enjoyment and entertainment, which isn’t such a bad epitaph.
Yet add, that on occasion, even the critics avoided derision about some of his performances. In the 1946 John Ford western My Darling Clementine he was impressive as the melancholic gunfighter Doc Holliday, even
In After the Fox, Mature played comedy. And he was hilarious, in fact for my money, he was far funnier than Sellers
throwing in a bit of Shakespeare for good measure. While in the tense noir thriller Kiss of Death, he was the smalltime crook turned police informer. Confronting the violent threats from giggling psychopath Richard Widmark. Perhaps best of all, is when Mature came out of semi-retirement in the mid-sixties, threw caution to the wind, and teamed up with Peter Sellers in the Neil Simon comedy – After the Fox. He was a revelation, playing a comically exaggerated version of his old Hollywood image: a conceited, egotistical movie star past his prime. In playing comedy, he was hilarious, in fact for my money, he was far funnier than Sellers (a fact that must have dented the British comedy actor’s fragile ego) while gaining the lion’s share of the critic’s approval. It’s a great pity that he didn’t pursue more comedies, as he no doubt displayed a rare flair in that department.
Though the critics were often a little unkind to several of his on-screen efforts, he gave the general impression that he didn’t take acting too seriously. A point highlighted in a story that has since become part of Hollywood folklore. As an enthusiastic golfer Mature tried joining an exclusive LA golf club who gave a blunt response to his application:
“I’m sorry Mr Mature, but unfortunately, we don’t accept actors at our club.” Undaunted, Victor replied, “hell, I’m no actor, and I’ve made 64 films to prove it!”
You have to admire a man like that. n
From my home village a kick of the ball down the hill from the border stone at Carter Bar, on the English side, I found myself living in a cobbled street in Leith.
The removals guy said – “Is your place up a stair?” I didn’t understand the question. What was a stair?
Leith was a disreputable port town, always a bit rough, and now a gap site. It was the best move I ever made.
We were lucky enough to catch the tail end of the traditional Leith community.
On New Year’s Day a couple of neighbours invited themselves in and drank whisky round the kitchen table. This was 11.00 in the morning. I wasn’t used to this. It was effectively a welcome committee meeting.
Later, one of them, a welder in the docks, unasked, fixed a loose stave on our garden gate. The job has lasted almost half a century, no bother.
And, although I wasn’t a total stranger to Edinburgh, with school trips to the zoo and the castle and often coming to the festival, living here was not just a rural to urban shift. It was also a whole cultural shift. We were never taught anything about Scotland.
In England the establishment was the Conservative party and the Church of England. Here it was the Labour party and the reformed Church of Scotland. It all took some adjustment.
In 1980 Leith’s fortunes were on a downward trajectory. Leith is a small part of the conurbation that is Edinburgh which was de-industrialised. Like many such urban areas – the Gorbals in Glasgow, Byker on Tyneside – jobs and prosperity disappeared during the Thatcher years.
Leith wasn’t made a Development Area. DAs offered generous start-up and relocation grants. Edinburgh Crystal (a Leith firm) moved to Penicuik. Leith’s whisky bonding on Commercial Street moved to Broxburn. They took many smaller businesses in their wake.
The last ship went down the slip at Henry Robb’s shipyard where Ocean Terminal now stands, in 1983. The hundreds of jobs in the docks dwindled to dozens as Grangemouth usurped Leith’s place as Scotland’s premier east coast port.
Perfect conditions for heroin to thrive. And it collided with HIV. Edinburgh was shocked by the Sunday Telegraph headline in 1987: ‘Stately Edinburgh is the AIDS capital of Europe’. Leith was the hotspot. Irvine Welsh tells the story from street level in Trainspotting.
Things began to change in the 1990s. The Tall Ships Race started here in 1995. Unused sheds were demolished on Victoria Quay to make way for what was then the Scottish Office, bringing hundreds of secure well-paid jobs and supporting smaller businesses.
Former Royal Yacht Britannia was moored alongside the destination shopping mall Ocean Terminal. We thought there would never be enough business for the new Holiday Inn Express.
For the first time in a generation people beat a path to Leith. The 22 bus was a novelty. The new route through Henderson Street seemed like an intrusion into private business, wi’ aw they Edinburry folk starin’ oot the windaes.
Now Leith is one of the coolest places in THE WORLD!! VisitScotland says so. Must be right.
Have I changed along with the place I live in and call home? People I have known for 40-odd years said recently: “You’ve never changed, Tim.”
“Well, I’ve tried to” I replied, wanting to distance myself from the dreadful young man I remember from all those years ago.
“Oh no, you’ve never lost your accent.” This was a couple of Weedgies I was talking to. I don’t have to take it from them. It’s not me with an accent.
I must have crossed the border hundreds of times. Mostly on tarmac, sometimes over the heather and once or
So, am I an Englishman or a Scotsman? Either. Neither. Both. Who’s asking?
twice in my bathers (not recently).
So, am I an Englishman or a Scotsman? Either. Neither. Both. Who’s asking?
Probably 25%, maybe more, of the people coming to the village show in Northumberland come from ‘the Scotch side’.
If you liked Brexit, you’ll love Scottish ‘independence’. All my political instincts are to get the best out of collective action and solidarity. Independence would make a hard border at Carter Bar, driving a wedge within a cohesive and distinctive border community.
SNP dreamers – Alec Salmond called independence a dream – should have some respect for realities on the ground. There are reasons why constituencies on the border vote for unionist parties. Born around 9 months after VE Day in 1945, I am a Celebration Baby. As a Baby Boomer, I’m a classic example of the genre. All my life I’ve had health care, education and opportunity laid out before me.
My generation’s parents, who lived through the war and afterwards under the inspired leadership of Clement Attlee, knew the importance of state investment in the future.
I no longer think of myself as a missionary.
Unfailing support for Newcastle United FC and the England cricket team notwithstanding, I’ve gone native. Leith for Ever…
However cool it gets. n
The 200th anniversary of the founding of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution was celebrated this year writes
Dougie Ratcliffe
It was founded by Isle of Man native, Sir William Hilary, prompted by the loss of life at sea when there were over 1800 wrecks each year around the coast of Britain. He published a pamphlet appealing to prominent citizens and the Navy, to form an organisation to save lives in shipwrecks. It was unsuccessful; even the Navy refused to help.
Undiscouraged, he appealed once more to more philanthropic members of society and he gathered together a number of benefactors due to his unceasing lobbying, even as far as getting royal patronage from King George IV. As a result, on 4th March 1824 in the City of London Tavern, Bishopsgate, the Royal National Institution for the Preservation of Life from Shipwreck was formed.
On 5th October 1854 the name was changed to the Royal National Lifeboat Institution — the RNLI which we know today.
Prior to this, fishing villages and towns around Scotland had their own lifeboats, communities such as Montrose, Fraserburgh, Arbroath and, of course, Newhaven. Newhaven’s boat was stationed at St Andrew’s Square but it fell into disrepair.
A new one was built and was moved to where the former Victoria School now stands. According to records it “got liberty to go to waste”, but in reality there was no real need for one as the fishermen, and more so the pilots, were always ready to go the assistance of any boat in need.
Accounts of the storm of 1881 attest to this. Fraserburgh had the first official RNLI lifeboat in 1858 and by the 1900’s there were 38 lifeboats around the Scottish coasts.
Funding for the Institution was mainly through businesses and well-known philanthropists. It wasn’t until a wealthy industrialist, Sir Charles Macara, was spurred into action by the deaths of 27 men from Southport and St Anne’s, who were trying to rescue seamen from the shipwrecked vessel Mexico
He organized a grand fund raising parade on 10th October 1891 in Manchester. Targeting the ordinary man in the street instead of the usual sources. It was a huge success with over £5000 being donated, the equivalent of around £800,000 today. This is recognized as the world’s first ever street collection. Known as Lifeboat Saturday, it became an annual event in Manchester and was replicated in towns and cities throughout the country.
Newhaven Heritage is fortunate to have a hand written diary of the Fisherwomen’s Choir from 1927-1977,
Liston and Grace Hackland
either side of
Merrilees, Royal Highland Show c 1965
Fraserburgh had the first RNLI lifeboat in 1858 by the 1900s there were 38 lifeboats on Scottish coasts
which shows details of various times when they supported the RNLI. They performed at grand occasions such as the International Lifeboat Conference in the Freemason’s Hall with HRH Princess Marina, various Lords and the Lord Provost Weatherston in attendance.
The General Meeting of the RNLI in the Merchant’s Hall Edinburgh, with the Lord High Commissioner Viscount Cunningham of Hyndhope as the main speaker; a concert in Rosyth for Admiral Cunningham-Graham; functions in the Caledonian Hotel and the RNLI 150th Anniversary Concert in the Usher Hall. The Fisherwomen’s Choir also
The tallest knitted christmas tree in Scotland project has gone beyond the halfway mark. The knitters are aiming for an ambitious height of between five and six metres for the tree, about the height of a giraffe, but are more than happy with progress so far.
The veritable army of knitters in Edinburgh and beyond has been busy knitting multi-toned green squares and colourful Christmas baubles and decorations for several months now. They have 5,000 squares and need another 2,500 while the pile of decorations has reached the 1,000 mark, about half of what is needed.
The community project, based at the
entertained and raised funds in small fishing communities around the country such as Crail and Elie.
Lifeboat Saturday was an annual event for fund raising and many will be familiar with the paper flags and lifeboats that you pinned on to your coat when you dropped your donation into the lifeboat, which was in lieu of the usual tin that other charities used. At Newhaven Heritage we continue the tradition of supporting the RNLI by taking donations at the Police Box every Saturday.
Ê Info: Dougie Ratcliffe of Newhaven Heritage at boxmasternh@gmail.com
Heart of Newhaven Community, has given people across Edinburgh a purpose for their knitting and is creating a real sense of community. The tree is also being supported by knitters from as far afield as Liverpool, Southport, Luton, Norwich, Fife and Inverness.
Children at local primary schools and local homes have been learning to knit with the help of the Tree@ The Heart supporters. It’s hoped the project will encourage donations to improve disabled access, while local charity Homestart will also benefit. The official reveal takes place on 30th November. Find out more at The Heart of Newhaven’s Facebook page. n Dave Pickering
The spread of specialty coffee and the now ubiquitous flat white is often seen as a manifestation of gentrification. This controversial social process is evident in many British cities, and Leith has undoubtedly seen a great deal of it in recent years. The extent to which the area has changed still takes some people’s breath away.
The speed of change manifested in the spread of coffee culture can be unnerving, even discombobulating. It connects to a more general unease about trends in contemporary society.
Specialty coffee places are sometimes considered places where only certain social groups are welcome; a young, laptopping, cashless, ‘woke’ metropolitan elite.
That the changes typified by ‘posh’ bakeries and coffee bars benefit certain groups at the expense of others pervades discussions of urban transformation and transport policy.
In Edinburgh, it’s commonly suggested that change in the city is being driven towards tourism ‘a tartan Disney world’, universities ‘more bloody student flats’ and that little is done for ‘the locals’. Underpinning this is the idea that there are unaccountable elites determining change, taking little heed of the local citizens.
However, many coffee businesses are expressly local in character; they emphasise their links to roasters and other suppliers in and around the city. What we see therefore are competing versions of the local, the authentic. Do they have to be competing visions or is harmonious synthesis possible?
One coffee business that emphasises its roots in the local community is a relative newcomer to the city’s coffee scene; Little Havana Coffee Store at 94 Leith Walk. This pintsize takeaway and coffee supplier is an offshoot of the tobacco store next door, The Pipe Shop, established in 1957.
For proprietor Steven MacKenzie, it was their deep knowledge of the area that meant they felt well-placed to diversify. While he concedes that rum and whiskey might seem the natural path for The Pipe Shop , Steven feels that coffee fits the zeitgeist much better. He admits, “dealing with drunk punters”
was not something he wanted. Coffee has a different, more chilled vibe. So far he’s enjoyed “good feedback and footfall” and feels the business is evolving nicely.
It’s a family business with Steven’s wife and daughter also working in the shop. They have a good number of regulars but are equally welcoming to new customers. It has built up mutually supportive relationships with other businesses in the area.
On a latesummer morning it was warm enough for iced coffee, creating a continental feel
In particular, Steven points people in the direction of Kvasa Bakery “those guys really deserve to do well; they work very long hours”. Remedy up the road “has the best breakfasts in town”.
He feels that there is a gap in the market for places such as Little Havana, offering something a bit different from the chains and the specialty places, such as Artisan Roast, just down the road.
He sees Little Havana as primarily a coffee supplier, offering an extensive range of beans. They presently have
about 30 coffees but hopes to expand that to 50, extending the range of countries represented: “our place isn’t a homage to any particular type of bean or region.”
For espresso-based drinks they usually offer a fairly dark roasted Brazilian blend, a bit different to the lighter, fruitier roasts prioritised by most specialty places. A darker roast is something more familiar to those from southern Europe. A sensible option given the number of Mediteraneans in Leith, even post-Brexit.
For Steven, it’s a learning process, with the business evolving organically as he meets new customers and engages with new suppliers. He’s also planning to extend the range of teas available. “I feel that with the amount of good cafes around here and places like Pekoe Tea, this area can become a centre for quality teas and coffee.”
On a bench outside you can watch the trams trundle past and cyclists zigzagging down the walk. On a late-summer morning, it was warm enough for iced coffee, creating a bit of a continental feel. Steven feels the trams coming to Leith has seen a boost for business, including his: “it’s helping to bring people to Leith.”
The area is changing, such as the pub next door; which has gone from a spit and sawdust place to one with a noticeably ‘hipster clientele’. He believes Leith retains its distinct character, and proudly stocks The Leither
Above all, Little Havana manifests a passion for coffee and a desire to constantly expand their knowledge of beans and brewing methods. The next stage of the business will be to recruit an experienced barista: “I’d like to give them a lot of autonomy about the beans and blends we use.”
Already, Little Havana has shown promise and is an example of the way in which the very best places serve great coffee but also act as vibrant communal hubs. Demonstrating that the rise of coffee culture has the potential to enrich an area, not strip away its character. n
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Sometimes you witness something so mind-bogglingly unexpected it sticks in your mind and infiltrates your dreams.
Australian breakdancer Raygun certainly ticked that box. As a teenager I dabbled in breakdancing, and I was so excited when breaking became an Olympic sport that I took time off to watch the whole thing live.
The first unexpected element was when Refugee Team b-girl Manizha Talash whipped off her sweater in the first round to reveal a cape emblazoned with the words, Free Afghan Women. I later learned it was a repurposed burqa. A historic moment that was never reported on the news: no politics allowed at the Olympics! Like many things in life.
Moving on in the women’s rounds, it was clear that Australian b-girl Rachel Gunn was out of place in her green and gold outfit that looked like one day cricket gear, her choreography got sillier as the competition progressed.
Nil points for the first round, and not one single judge out of 8 voting for her in ANY of the rounds (that’s like losing nil to 32, three times in a row). It would take guts to put on a game face when losing so badly.
I was delighted when she started hopping around like a kangaroo.
Pure theatrics! The chin grab was an especially audacious dance move. It was like she knew she was going to lose so pulled out all of her favourite moves. It created a stooshie online. I became obsessed by this story and checked for news every day for two weeks. There was a whole lot of clickbait churned out hypothesising her motives.
We’ve all been there - maybe not the Olympics. But in a situation where you look around and go “shiiiit, I think I’m out of my depth.” If you haven’t been in that position you’ve never challenged yourself. It’s not comfortable putting yourself out there, but surmounting challenges is how we grow and learn. Surmounting challenges is also how you get fit.
It was with this thought, and having freshly turned 50 years old, that I embarked on a summer of trying out the many different fitness classes in Leith. Chucking myself in at the deep end by sampling a succession of different challenges.
I started easy, with candle-lit Yin Yoga at Tribe, at the top of Leith Walk (technically Haddington Place). Yin (or Restorative) yoga involves holding poses for three to five minutes at a time. The theory is that not only will muscles relax, but the less elastic fascia encasing muscles also gets a stretch. Very chilled. I liked it, the room was dark, music mellow and I was definitely bendier at the end.
In contrast, Tribe Spin classes are
A historic moment not reported on the news: no politics allowed at the Olympics!
high-energy, to the point of mania. Having done a few Spin (that’s stationary cycling) classes in my time, I knew it was going to be fast. Your legs spin like billy-o, and I actually thought I was gonna puke. Och, I prefer cycling outdoors. Call me old school.
I decided to venture further, this time to the dark depths of Elysium Gym for CrossFit. The clue is in the name, and CrossFit is a cross training fitness class. It’s a global thing, where all CrossFitters in the world do the same workout, exercises changing each week.
They have championship leagues and dedicated followers. Jamie, the knowledgeable instructor. showed us the different options for all of the exercises. For me, it was a busman’s holiday as I worked through a combination of countless press-ups, squats and shuttle runs. Perhaps I chose a duff week, but I wanted something more exotic.
So I tried the Fitness Soul lunchtime strength session. I’ve known gym owners Joanna and Leszek since they opened, and love what they do. They have loads of heavy lifting stuff I don’t have.
I was perversely pleased when the workout involved pushing a weighted sled up and down Tennant Street. To
an outsider it might look a bit pointless (especially on one of the hottest days of the year), but pushing 100kg+ uses oodles of core muscles, shoulders, back and glutes. I won’t say I’m gonna rush out and buy a weighted sled, but I may indeed return just to give Fitness Soul’s a wee push.
For pure novelty, my favourite workout was Bounce. Again, the class does what it says on the tin, and Bounce involves bouncing on a small trampoline, some would call a trampette.
The class is in Pilrig Church Hall on various weeknights, a bright and airy venue that I used in 2006 to run ‘Monday Night Feelgood’ freestyle aerobics classes. I came over all nostalgic for the old days, and then had a thoroughly good bounce.
The choreography is a bit nuts lots of jumping (be sure to stretch your calves) and music verging on Eurodisco. As an experience, it was unparalleled. As a workout, a bit juddering. I had sea-legs as I walked home, staggering down Arthur Street.
Within Leith, we have many opportunities to dive out of our comfort zone and try something new. The more different moves you challenge your body to, the more different muscle groups are exercised. And if you want to keep a pep in your step, and be down with the kids, I highly recommend trying some of the fitness challenges we have on our doorstep. n
Ê Info: Got a class I should try? Drop me a line! tracy@griffenfitness.com
