A wedding

Yesterday a good friend got married to her ‘forces sweetheart’. I use the old-fashioned term deliberately ‘cos my friend is an old fashioned girl. Her wedding was the most traditional I have been to for as long as I can remember.

She was lead down the aisle of the church by the proudest father possible, to be wed to her soldier boy newly returned from Afghanistan. Family had flown in from various other continents to celebrate her day.

I was one of a group of six friends also attending, and I hope we too did her proud in our finery. Her sister was bridesmaid and looked just as stunning and as happy as the bride. The groom was tall and dignified in his uniform, which as the day and then the evening wore on he kept correctly buttoned up even though that stiff collar must have been tiresome.

The frock! The most beautiful dress I have ever seen. Diamante and pearls and a full veil.

The ceremony over, we were fortunate enough with the weather to be able to take pics outside the pretty old church at the edge of the city, before moving to the reception in a gracious old wood panelled building overlooking panoramic views of the city. The weather stayed clear and dry for more photo opportunities.

Inside my friends and I reunited over the champagne and canapés in an enthusiastic catch up of news old and new as some of us had not met up for some years. Then it was time for the speeches and cake cutting and the meal.

We were treated to wonderful entertainment with what has to be the best wedding band I have ever heard. The bride’s present to the groom: a fireworks display in the grounds. Absolutely terrific!

More food, to warm us up after the fireworks: hot soup and wedding cake to follow. More, much more dancing, then the final Auld Lang Syne finished off with stirring Scottish songs while the band packed up and taxis were ordered.

But the highlight was seeing the angelic little ring bearer in her sticky outy white frock with little furry cape, scooting around being the centre of attention the whole time. Only falling asleep when the bride and groom departed at midnight. All of the children were incredibly well behaved. The little boys in their kilts and the girls in their glamorous party frocks running around in separate tribes until one friend got them together and taught them the Dashing White Sergeant.

As is traditional with me and this particular group of friends, we were last to leave, having been of stalwart assistance in pouring the father of the bride into a taxi, and (failing) to mop up the tears of the overwrought bridesmaid. A wedding would not be a wedding without family fall-outs, and if the father of the bride cannot rely on his daughter’s friends for a tipsy dance or two, then it would not be a normal occasion.

I've played about with the images here as my camera took a naughty turn and produced lots of blurred pics, so these seemed appropriate for the blog.

Continental Drift

Plate tectonics is a fascinating subject and it seems that parts of Scotland, our mountains in particular, are extremely old. Dating as far back as the Ordovician or early Silurian, around 450 Ma. (Ma = mega-annum which is one million years.) There are brilliant animations of plate tectonics online.
http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/geology/anim1.html

SCT (signifiying Scotland) is in the middle of the top map and is below the equator. The second map (below) is from a later paleogeologic era when Scotland has moved nearer to the equator. I'm not sure I want to be as hot as that, but in its drift northwards this country should have stopped further south than it did!

These two maps are from this site:
http://jan.ucc.nau.edu/~rcb7/globaltext.html

The Scandinavian, Scottish, Appalachian and Moroccan mountains once formed part of a single chain which joined together to close the proto-Atlantic 400 million years ago before being split apart after another couple of hundred million years by the Atlantic we know today.

Above is a view of the High Atlas mountains in Morocco which I visited on holiday a couple of years ago. I've not been to the hilly part of Scandanavia or the Appalachians, but I imagine those are just as different from the Grampians as the picture above.

And the point of this is?

Because I live in a country, some of whose citizens yesterday voted for:

• ID cards
• Foreign controlled weapons of mass destruction next to our largest city
• Scottish banking jobs to go to a competing capitalist capital
• Continued illegal wars that devastate women and children and destroy their rights, education and health

And too many other abhorrent policies that adversely affect our society (with the notable exception of Equalities legislation). I am tempted to say that remaining attached to Scandinavia and the Appalachians would have been preferable to EWNI, (the political entity, not the subjects of these countries).

It may take longer than we’d dared to hope over the last 18 months, but tectonic shift can still happen. Obviously I’d prefer to unhitch us at the Border and tow the whole place back to warmer climes while we get on with our lives building a fairer and more just society.

Remember, remember ....

From the London Evening Standard.

Sometimes politics gets interesting, even in Westminster, even in November. And I know I'm a little early, but I can hear fireworks outside as I type this, maybe because the forecast is for rain tomorrow.

Moon Views

I took this photo of the moon just as it was getting dark this evening. The twilight sky was of a colour and clarity that could make poets of the most mundane of us.

I've begun to take my camera about with me, which is easy enough as it is a small digital and fits into most handbags. I even manage to remember I have it with me, and to keep a lookout for interesting views and scenes. However, I remain shy about standing in the road taking photos in public, so it will be a while before I can whip out the camera and ignore any funny looks (assuming anyone cared enough to stare at me in the first place.)

My creative buddies encourage me when I look at their photographs on their websites. They are professional photographers and innately artistic, but I can aspire to one day becoming 'amateur'!

Here's a closer picture of the north pole of the moon.
http://www.esa.int/esaSC/SEMMH029R9F_index_0.html

And looking back at us from up there.

Taken by the Terrain Mapping camera (TMC) on board the Chandrayaan-1, the first Indian unpersoned space mission to the moon. Chandrayaan-1 means ‘moon craft’ and is orbiting the moon at a distance of 110km.
http://www.moontoday.net/news/viewsr.html?pid=29658

Food before I forget

Before I forget what interesting, and usually tasty things I’ve made recently I am writing them down. This is partly why I created this blog as I seldom remember what I cook or bake and then can't repeat the good things. Although I get very bored eating the same food too often, but there are times when it is easier just to repeat rather than invent. And there are times when beans on toast is easiest of all.

Lemon curd pudding
Ginger bread I’d baked a few days ago was getting stale. I sliced it thinly, spread it with lemon curd and steeped it in egg custard mixture before baking in a low oven. It made a lot more than I anticipated, so I’ll be eating it for a while, as I don’t think it could be frozen.

Corn bread
Mix ratio of 1:4, SR flour and quick cook polenta with a small handful of finely chopped sun dried tomatoes. Then whisk one egg with some milk and a Tbs ground nut oil. Combine all before baking in a moderate oven in a liberally greased pie dish.

I made it drier than I’d have liked, but the good thing was that it lasted ok in the fridge for a couple of days. I ate it hot with yellow courgette ribbons sauted in olive oil with roasted pine nuts, fresh herb pesto and Grand Padano shavings.

The fresh herb pesto was easily made from flat leaf parsley, mint and coriander, with a clove of garlic, and seasoning, moistened with olive oil. I used my mezullina to chop it all, which can be a bit of a faff, but at other times is a productive use of aggression.

Adzuki beans
One of my favourite pulses is adzuki beans. They are apparently very yang (or do I mean yin?), which makes them very good for you. I boiled them up till softish and added black cardamom pods (2 or 3), one kaffir lime leaf and cooked till done. Then I added veg stock and coriander seeds. I topped this vague approximation of a shepherdess pie with parsnip and carrot mash seasoned with fenugreek seeds.

The most surprising aspect of this culinary adventure, was Sig Other’s reaction; it seems this was one of the best things I’ve ever cooked him. I considered it merely passed muster.

Choco tofu pud
Being easily seduced by any brown powder designated cocoa, I much preferred this inspired experiment to the above: silken tofu (bought in error), rather more date syrup than calorifically wise, two vastly overfilled tablespoons Freetrade, organic and otherwise saintly cocoa powder, oh, and a little butter for sheen. Melt date syrup, cocoa powder and butter and whizz together with silken tofu. Top with chopped nuts – hazel nut for preference. Cool in the fridge until your willpower gives up. The good thing about this is that it doesn’t last; therefore it is wasteful not to eat it all within two/three days, thereby absolving you from all calorific sinfulness.

Baked Samosas
Sublime! I used a pastry made from 50:50 plain flour and gram flour with a teaspoon of turmeric. Cut into rounds, and fill with potato, red onion, fresh coriander, mint and ginger with spices such as mustard seed, amchur, garam massalla and anything else you fancy. Seal the edges of the samosas and bake in a medium oven for not very long.

I had intended these to be my contribution to a visit to my mother and daughter, but I ate one to test as soon as they came out of the oven, and sort of kept going. However, as my daughter called to inform me she’d made an After Eight cheesecake no one is going to notice a shortfall in the samosas.

Non-Pythean Anarcho-syndicalist synchronicity

Edinburgh is such a wonderful place to live, well, some of the time.

In the past week I have had so many opportunities to attend discussions on racism, sexism, masculinities, early socialism and the Chavez revolution.

Today I went to the radical Book Fair to listen to Sheila Rowbotham talk on her latest book which is about Edward Carpenter, a campaigner on diverse issues including vegetarianism and women’s rights. Principally he is known for his work on adult education and to gay historians.
http://www.word-power.co.uk/viewEventList.php?category_id=1

He was often regarded as a British Walt Whitman, but his fame did not last, possibly because of his avoidance of joining in party politics and a socialist distancing of his sexuality. For example in the 1880’s he helped form a secret society to teach sex education, and he promoted along with Bob Muirhead, a contemporary socialist, ideas of a citizen’s income which today is only mentioned by the Green’s.

What I personally found curious is the occurrence of the concept which, in my Artists Way group we termed synchronicity. Sheila Rowbotham described Carpenter’s links with socialism, anarchy, Advanced Women, even anarcho-syndicalists.* The synchronicity took the form of the attendance at the talk following my reading of John Buchan’s Castle Gay in which there is a delicious description of a by-election in south west Scotland where the heroes attend the Communist rally and hear about the Anarchist's movement in Europe, (although Buchan seems to refer to Anarchists in the previous book in that series too) as well as the Bolsheviks.

In the normal course of my life, I rarely hear people talking about such far leftist groupings, so it is easy to forget that for substantial parts of the global population there is total rejection of the capitalist western belief systems.

The synchronicity persisted with my reflections on the current by-election in Glenrothes and how that was a place of radicalism as the voters in days past, returned communist representatives. I can only imagine the whirling in their graves of the old activists on hearing what has happened to those who once claimed affiliation with an internationalist sister/brotherhood.

But referring back to Castle Gay, the hero engages in conversation with an ardent voter who is looking forward to there being some heads broken between the various political factions, as this was the way that some Scotsmen did their politics at that time. (I am not sure when the story is set, but it is soon after the end of WW1, so women’s enfranchisement may not yet have been secured).

For my own views, I’d rather not have it come to head breaking next week at the poll. Maybe the Scots have calmed down in the last 90 years, or, unfortunately much more likely, have lost that edge which marked our national traits of radical political analysis and allegiances, to say nothing of our underlying sense of fairness and inclusive internationalist nationalism.

Oh yeah, and I began today by picking up the car I ordered last week.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2008/oct/22/women-highereducation-sheila-rowbotham-feminism
http://www.johnbuchansociety.co.uk/
*This was a learning point for me as previously I had only come across this term in the scene in Monty Python’s Holy Grail when King Arthur approaches the peasants who turn on him with blandishments about democracy claiming to be an anarchist syndicalist grouping. I had to investigate this, and found the website listed below. I will make time soon to look at this further.

http://www.syndicalist.org/


DENNIS: I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week.
ARTHUR: Yes.
DENNIS: But all the decision of that officer have to be ratified at a special biweekly meeting.
ARTHUR: Yes, I see.
DENNIS: By a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs,--
ARTHUR: Be quiet!
DENNIS: --but by a two-thirds majority in the case of more--
ARTHUR: Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!
WOMAN: Order, eh -- who does he think he is?
ARTHUR: I am your king!
WOMAN: Well, I didn't vote for you.
ARTHUR: You don't vote for kings.
WOMAN: Well, 'ow did you become king then?
ARTHUR: The Lady of the Lake,
[angels sing]
her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur.
[singing stops]
That is why I am your king!
DENNIS: Listen -- strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.


http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/mphg/mphg.htm#Scene%204