Smoking ban

In July the smoking ban will come into force in England and frankly I can’t wait. Suddenly it will be possible to enjoy a meal in a restaurant or a drink in a pub without having to feel as if you’re being fumigated in someone else’s nasty habit.

I was a heavy smoker for years and gave up only four years ago. I would never want to become one of those militantly born-again anti-smoking ex-smokers. But I have to say that a holiday I had in Dublin last year, where the ban has been in place for a while, proved to me that this is the way to go. If they can live with a smoking ban in public places in Ireland then it can be done anywhere.

For years I used to hate it when having a meal in a nice restaurant I would feel the burning (pun intended) need to light up in-between courses. After finishing a meal I would sit there wondering: How long before I can smoke one? I would envy the non-smokers in the company who would just enjoy the meal for the sake of the food itself.

So, bring on the smoking ban. It may even impel some smokers to give it up and join the healthier brigade.

Fatty Hicks

For those of you following the Aussie Hicks saga:

http://timblair.net/ee/index.php/weblog/australias_biggest_loser_and_david_hicks/

Is my tea ready, Jeeves?

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/opinion/main.jhtml?xml=/opinion/2007/05/30/dl3003.xml

Coen brothers

Watched ‘Oh Brother, Where Art Thou’ again on the free film channel Film Four, and once again enjoyed this imaginative flick. They must have a real love for the stories they tell and it shows in the many diverse themes these directors choose to depict.

John Torturro must be one of their favourite actors. He was fabulously downtrodden in ‘Barton Fink’, creepily on the money as Jesus, the pederast bowler in ‘The Big Lebowski’, and he always brings out a fine performance in whatever he does.

I love the surreal humour and light touches that the Coen brothers adopt in their film repertoire. I think my all time favourite film of theirs must be ‘The Big Lebowski’, although I’d rather not have to choose as each of their films can be considered unique in their own right.

My fondness for these films started back in the dark ages with ‘Raising Arizona’ and continues to this day. I hope they keep on making many more of these wonderful movies.

Fruitcake alert!

It really takes all kinds, especially in the South-West:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/cornwall/6689999.stm

BlogSire's treasure trove of blogging info

A fellow Aussie runs a very good blog called Blogsire at http://www.blogsire.com/myblog/
This is a veritable treasure trove of insightful information on opportunities for bloggers and anyone who maintains a personal site who wants to make the most of what's out there. I often browse the latest entries to see if BlogSire has anything new to report and am never disappointed. Do check it out!

It's just not fair, is it?

http://timblair.net/ee/index.php/weblog/chicks_get_midgets/

Tube victims

The Tube Diary spotted some more fashion victims:

http://london-underground.blogspot.com/2007/05/london-underground-fashion-victims.html

Bristol's Clifton Suspension Bridge

View of the Clifton Suspension Bridge, spanning the Avon Gorge in Bristol. This is another fine example of the engineering genius of I.K. Brunel who also designed the S.S. Great Britain, referred to in an earlier post. On a clear day it's a great experience to cross the bridge on foot and enjoy the far-reaching views.

Van Gogh

This piece will not be about the famous one-eared Dutch painter but rather about one of his descendants, the film director/columnist/tv presenter Theo van Gogh. In November 2004 he was brutally slaughtered in broad daylight while he was riding his bicycle in Amsterdam where he lived.

His murderer was an irate Moroccan who felt sufficiently offended by Theo’s brazen and unyielding criticism of some aspects of islam that he held to be a threat to the free and open society that Holland is. Or was.

Van Gogh didn’t much like organised religion and also frequently insulted Christianity, causing offence to many. The difference being that when you insult a Christian the chances are that you’ll survive the incident. Theo van Gogh was meddlesome and quarrelsome and loved nothing better than to cause a stir and create some mayhem. He had been a columnist for most of the major newspapers and magazines, always to be given the sack after a few months for having caused some controversy or other. He bowed to no one in his verbal impertinence and in itself this could be considered a prized Dutch characteristic.

His films were small-scale avant-garde affairs which drew a modest loyal audience. His talkshows were a must see and the stuff of legends. Always keen to point out hypocrisy and façade, his grilling of politicians and would-be celebrities was hilarious, as he was intelligent and very eloquent and combined this with a wicked sense of humour.
He held this outspokenness to be one of the most important values of Western society in general and the Netherlands in particular. He was a peaceful warrior for the freedom of speech, always restricting himself to the verbal attack only.

Van Gogh held that some of the fundamentalist tendencies in islam as they are prevalent in Dutch society were a grave danger to the free society that Holland was famous for in the minds of many. He saw it as his duty to deride the fanaticism, denounce the dumb followers of the intolerant imams, and to ridicule those who would inflict their narrow-minded antiquated views on free-thinking, libertarian Amsterdam.

He was also a single parent raising a young son. He might have chosen his battles more wisely in hindsight. With his brutal murder he demonstrated the dangers of this widespread brand of this supposedly ‘peaceful religion’.

One of his friends was the Somali-born critic of fundamentalist islam Hirsi Ali. His murderer stuck a dagger into his chest pinning a death-threat letter addressed to her. She dared to be a critic of a culture, a religion she had once shared.

The left in Holland thought that in the race to win votes they would be able to embrace the intolerant in the land of tolerance. Theo van Gogh’s untimely and savage death highlighted a division in Dutch society - in many ways a failed multicultural society like France - that will play out over the next decades.

In this instance the dagger was mightier than the pen. We cannot afford to forget about him.

Scotland

We’re hoping to go camping for a week or two in Scotland this summer. Our initial destination will be the Isle of Skye, off the west coast, where the scenery is supposed to be awe-inspiring.

I’ve never been up to Scotland before and I’m really looking forward to it. My ancestral roots lie spread over Ireland and Scotland by way of Australia, so I’m hoping I will like what I find.
Perhaps we’ll even climb Britain’s highest mountain Ben Nevis if we feel energetic enough. Mostly I just want to get away from cities, and people, and traffic jams, and noise and so on and so forth.

I’d like to let my proverbial hair down, breathe in fresh air, and let nature herself soothe my weary brow. Sounds like a plan to me!

Scotland

We’re hoping to go camping for a week or two in Scotland this summer. Our initial destination will be the Isle of Skye, off the west coast, where the scenery is supposed to be awe-inspiring.

I’ve never been up to Scotland before and I’m really looking forward to it. My ancestral roots lie spread over Ireland and Scotland by way of Australia, so I’m hoping I will like what I find.
Perhaps we’ll even climb Britain’s highest mountain Ben Nevis if we feel energetic enough. Mostly I just want to get away from cities, and people, and traffic jams, and noise and so on and so forth.

I’d like to let my proverbial hair down, breathe in fresh air, and let nature herself soothe my weary brow. Sounds like a plan to me!

Bowsprit

The ornately decorated bow of the great ship.

Large hull

The large iron hull of the ship, preserved under optimum atmospherical conditions in the dry dock.

All hands on deck!

The weather deck of the SS Great Britain.

Harbour view

View of the harbour here in Bristol, always full of sailing vessels and all types of boats and sometimes larger ships.

SS Great Britain and Bristol harbour

Today we had a look around the famous SS Great Britain, the first modern ocean liner, designed by that Victorian engineering genius Isambard Kingdom Brunel who is responsible for so many dazzling buildings, railways and bridges around Bristol and the West Country. The ship is housed in the dry dock where it was originally built, around the middle of the 19th Century. It's a wonderful few hours to walk around the exhibit and then step onto the impressive ship itself. It certainly is something that Bristol can rightfully be proud of, I would say.

I am posting a few pictures in a few following posts of our walk around Bristol harbour and the SS Great Britain as well.

Dawkins's soothing vacuum?

As I read the news about the poor missing four-year old Madeleine McCann, and how her parents are dealing with this horrific ordeal http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/.stm

I cannot help but be impressed with the way the family and parents of this little girl are finding refuge and sustenance and hope in their faith. Many times over the last few weeks we've seen images of the mother and father attending church in the resort in Portugal where little Madeleine disappeared.

And I struggle with my own faith and recent islamic fervour, almost daily in the news with a new baffling atrocity perpetrated on 'the infidel', has made me doubt the validity of the commitment to a higher cause, a vague divine notion. People are weak and easily led astray.

And yet, let's for a moment imagine that Madeleine's poor parents did not have access to their strongly held beliefs and in stead opted to find spiritual nourishment in secularism and atheism. The type that Richard Dawkins, the professional anti-religionist, espouses. Would they find the same level of hope, trust and relief? Somehow I doubt it.

The poor, hungry and sick in the Third World are not being looked after by organised members of the Secular Society. Faith can move mountains. Faith can also fly high-jacked airplanes into office buildings.

My prayers are with the family of this missing girl, Madeleine McCann. I am certain that an arch-atheist like Dawkins would want the best possible outcome for this missing person's case.

But could he offer anything beyond his best wishes?

Desdemona Dreams

She lay upon the Emir's bed;
all roses dozing gently.
Garments tousled, hair undone,
Eurasian moon in-between velvet curtains hiding worlds.
This dark princess had seen unseen
all they could imagine
frail womanhood would not stand.
Brute force and ignorance
became simple sharp tools,
for her to wield uncaringly.
Heartless homicidal hatred;
another nicety dispensed with.

She had stood near the throne
and smiled as the Icon sat in judgement;
sending mere innocence to the ordeal,
while her hallowed moon hung coloured scarlet.

Now her dreams float far away
like fragrant fumes from palace gardens.
Attentive eunuch and heroic handmaiden
stand in awe and trepidation,
as Desdemona dreams of sunshine,
specks of golden love-lights, once remembered,
once gathered in Arcadian fields of Summer
by her happier former self and sisters.

Rain, once again, seemed a recent invention.
Tears, warm and salty to the touch were ever more familiar.

Tube stuff

There is a blog run by a commuter on the London Underground which I often check. Sometimes she will post pictures of what she calls fashion victims whom she comes across while on the Tube. Have a look at her latest entry:

http://london-underground.blogspot.com/2007/04/tube-etiquette-nail-cutting.html

Funny stuff..

Cutty Sark on fire

Woke up to the news of the 19th Century tea clipper Cutty Sark being ablaze:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/6675381.stm

Brown and Bush bust-up?

Wonder what the post-Blair era will mean for British involvement in Iraq once Gordon Brown gets in:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2007/05/20/wirq20.xml

The Emerald Forest

This morning I spent a very lazy few hours in bed watching the John Boorman film The Emerald Forest. Starring Powers Boothe and Meg Foster, this stunning film is set in the Amazon rainforest where the Powers Boothe character’s young son is snatched away by an indigenous tribe, the Invisible People, leaving his parents to search for the boy for an agonizing ten years.

The young boy is raised by the tribe, marries a girl from a nearby tribe and is initiated into manhood by way of an ordeal involving imbibing the local hallucinogenic and entering a trance in which he discovers his totem animal; an eagle soaring high above the dense green foliage of the rainforest.

I’ve always liked Powers Boothe’s taciturn style of acting. I’ve only seen him in a few films, among which his spooky role as Jim Jones in the two-part drama depicting the Jonestown mass suicide. There seems to be a strange darkness behind that steely gaze which works well on the screen.

At one point an extremely annoying German press photographer accompanying Powers Boothe on yet another search for the lost boy is attacked and disposed of by the cannibalistic tribe of the Fierce People. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

As the story develops, father and son are reunited under very difficult circumstances, deep in the forest. It soon appears that the new boy’s life is with the tribe in the rainforest and the dad just needs to accept this inevitable fate.

The scenery as depicted in this beautiful film is engrossing and awe-inspiring and it is fascinating to get a slight insight into the life of the tribe of indigenous people living in the Amazon rainforest.

It’s not a recent film but if you’ve never seen it, it is well worth checking out.

Gouda townhall pic

View of the rear of the 14th Century townhall of Gouda, in Holland. It's a lovely building that stands out in a central position in the market square. Recently, my brother got married there so I got to see the interior as well.

Nasty dream

I dreamt the other night about spiders. Not the semi-cuddly little ones who do no harm, no these were giant size, about as big as a dog or a large cat, and they were everywhere. In my bed (in my dream I awoke to find them crawling between the sheets; nice!), on my desk, and on the bookshelves. They were the Black Widow variety, with the elegant but spooky spindly legs.

At one point I decided to do battle with them as I was in danger of being overrun. I was crushing them between chairs and in-between pots and pans, they even got into the toilet bowl but with the help of the bog lid I was able to crush those few who ventured into such an unholy place.

I’m not keen on spiders and being Australian I should be resistant to the notion of any perceived sense of arachnophobia. I hope this dream is not indicative of an increased aversion to these creatures.

But they are creepy..

Chelsea triumph

Thanks to a great goal by Didier Drogba, Chelsea today won the first FA Cup final in the new Wembley stadium: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/main.jhtml;jsessionid=PQJV4OICQA1N1QFIQMGSFFWAVCBQWIV0?xml=/sport/2007/05/19/ufncup19.xml

It was quite a disappointing match with neither team really putting on an impressive performance. Mr so-called Wonderful Ronaldo was near-invisible, while Manchester United's Wayne Rooney at least tried to make a difference in the second half but proved unlucky on a few occasions. So, Jose Mourinho's men have secured a win in the first ever FA Cup final in the new Wembley stadium. Not too shabby..

The battle for content

As a blogger and a magazine editor http://ancientheartmagazine.co.uk/ I know what a struggle it can be to find genuine, worthwhile content. So much of what fills the internet’s wide open spaces is drivel, and badly written drivel at that. I in no way want to blow my own trumpet (perish the thought) but at least I acknowledge the reader’s presumed desire to read something of interest that is written by someone who can string together a decent sentence.

I tend to find a lot of blog entries concerning ways of internet-generated income, quick-rich schemes and other material that, while it may be of interest to some, I would not like to qualify as genuine content. It’s not the ads in the magazine that make the mag worth reading. Or at least it shouldn’t be, I know that much.

And it is not as if there is a shortage of subjects and topics to write about. The world and everything it contains is a fascinating, dazzling sort of place with a wild diversity of people and places, all with their very own peculiarities and quirks. What could be more interesting than finding out about some of them?

The infrastructure is there: internet, email, mobile phone, instant messaging and more. Let’s not lose sight of the need, or indeed the battle for content.

Funny..

http://timblair.net/ee/index.php/weblog/lazy_bette/

Litter louts

Article by a Jeff Randall in the Daily Telegraph today about the problem of litter in Britain:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/opinion/main.jhtml;jsessionid=0UUC4KFV3XGBJQFIQMGSFF4AVCBQWIV0?xml=/opinion/2007/05/18/do1801.xml

I have to say it's depressing to see so much rubbish in the streets, almost in every city and town. People just don't seem to care about that sort of thing anymore. It's a blooming disgrace to be sure..

Alhambra

Image of a row of columns in the Alhambra palace in Granada, Spain. I love Spain for a great number of reasons; the lovely climate (avoiding August..), the fabulous food, the brilliant habit of the siesta, the relaxed and friendly people, the fiery spirited music, the wine, the beautiful cities.

The Moors did leave some wonderful architecture behind, and especially in Andalusia you will find stunning examples of this, for instance the Alhambra palace, high on a hill overlooking the city of Granada (which means 'pomegranate') below. Here you can admire the palace halls, the fortress and the almost ephemeral gardens. Simply wonderful.

Truly one of the world's jewels.

A gorgeous day

The sun is out and spring is definitely making her presence felt here in the West Country. Some of the blossoms are out and the air has a freshness and a still quality that I associate with this most enchanting of seasons.

I am not certain about the whole global warming hype and/or swindle but this last winter was decidedly mild to say the least. But I think too many people who are not exactly scientifically minded are jumping on the lefty bandwagon and proclaiming we’re all going to fry.

Some such team of would-be experts, or should I call them zealots? was recently engaged in traversing a stretch of the Arctic to highlight the cause of Global Warmering. After a day or two they had to abandon the PR-trek because they nearly froze to death in the bitterly cold circumstances. In a press briefing the hapless team expressed their amazement at the cold temperatures on the North Pole; surely with all this globbal wurming it should be balmy with a nice Mediterranean sun by now?

I’ll just enjoy this spring and the following summer and forget about everything else. Well, almost that is..

A drive in the country

My darling wife and I went to visit some friends in Hampshire on the weekend. To get there from Bristol we needed to cross through North-East Somerset and Wiltshire. The route cuts straight through the enigmatic Salisbury Plain, a large wild area of which quite a few parts are designated for Army training purposes.

I love the English countryside; the winding roads, the grey-stone cottages, the country pubs and the rolling hills, the incredibly green fields all around.

I grew up in Holland and lived most of my life there in the urbanised western part of the country. There were rural pastures to be found there but nothing every really spoke to me in the way that the English countryside does.

The sun was out, traffic was light, and it was a joy just to meander down through the lush scenery. It was a pleasure to be alive that day.

Two flicks

Watched two films this weekend: One was The Departed, the other was About Smidt. I enjoyed the latter but was very bored with The Departed. There was not one likeable character in this bleak sordid story and it seemed just another one of those films with little men, high on testosterone, running around waving a gun and over-using the F-word.

The dialogue was appallingly poor and it was pathetic to see how these male characters needed to be artificially reinforced with ‘effing and blinding’ to a tedious extent. I was disappointed as I really like most other films by Scorcese. The Departed was a witless and graceless exercise in male posturing. Perhaps it’s because I’m a man myself but I’m getting fed up with the vast number of films crowded with loud men portraying utterly predictable behaviour and totally lacking any interesting female characters. What a bore.

Much more to my liking was About Schmidt, starring Jack Nicholson. Beautifully filmed, slowly and elegantly told, this story of a man losing his wife shortly after retiring from work and faced with a complete nincompoop for a impending son-in-law was moving and insightful.

Black humour and little touches of light-hearted brilliance made this film something unusual. Nicholson’s role was testament to his versatile acting skills. Kathy Bates was convincing as the overly sensual mother of the nincompoop. I’ve never wanted a Winnebago and certainly do not want one after seeing About Schmidt, but I laughed as Nicholson’s character drove it around town as if it were just an ordinary car rather than a ridiculously sized monster-caravan.

A human story where the acting didn’t get in the way of the story, About Schmidt is an ultimately uplifting story about life, love and loss. Nice one..

Creepy Scientology..

Scientology was in the news today as footage of a BBC reporter doing a programme on the ‘church’ was posted on YouTube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HGM8DSnYh0

In the short film, the Panorama reporter loses his rag as he interviews a spokesman for the mind-bending cult. Obviously, this proves to be good propaganda for the Hubbardians who seem so very influential in Hollywood these days.

Years ago, when scientology was merely one of several sinister cults available, they had their headquarters in Amsterdam close to a major shopping street, always busy with visitors and locals. Scientonomers who were invariably impeccably dressed, though not quite as Thunderbird-like as the Mormon doorstep-nuisances would cruise the shopping area, clipboard at the ready. You could spot them a mile off. They would seek out likely targets, usually of the shy lost teenager type, and invite them to do a fifteen minute questionnaire in their offices, just around a corner, a mere stone’s throw away.

Once there, the test or survey would reveal serious psychological defects and flaws which could, if unattended, prove to be a real danger for the poor victim of all this creepy attention. But, luckily scientology had access to the solution to this terrible psychological problem of which the survey taker had previously been more or less unaware. For a mere five or six or seven or eight thousand guilders, the troubled soul would be able to do a specially designed course to improve the mind, body and soul, no doubt leading to enlightenment and a happy-go-lucky life ever after. Once caught, it would prove very difficult to disengage from the creep-meisters.

Some countries are stricter about granting this cult respectability than others. Germany traditionally has little time for these Sci-Fi freaks. I think they still aren’t allowed to call themselves a ‘church’ in the Heimat. Such was the anger amongst Hollywood celebrity members at this perceived injustice that the likes of Kirstie Alley (didn’t she use to be an actress?) and Goldie Hawn and other famous acolytes signed an open letter protesting at the German ‘persecution’ of their ‘faith’, likening their members’ ordeal to that suffered by the Jews at the hands of the Nazis in the thirties. Nice.

Apparently, the followers of science fiction author L. Ron Hubbard believe we are all descended from a large alien named Xenos (that took some creative juices coming up with that one..), who hovers somewhere near to planet Earth. Now you see it, now you don’t. I think I would have to be paid a few millions by scientology before I start believing that but there you go. There’s a sucker born every minute. Suckers like Tom Cruise, (who made his wifelet undergo the process of birth in complete silence according to scientology custom. I suppose any soothing drugs were also out of the question) and John Travolta.

I support the much cherished freedom of religion enshrined in the US constitution. The problem arises when the likes of these creeps and people like David ‘Waco’ Koresh enjoy the same privileges and rights as established churches.

I have yet to see the South Park episode that deals with scientology. I think I’ll go and have a look at it now. Cheers! Watch your mind..

Hong Kong highrise

I

Image taken during my stop-over in Hong Kong on the way to Australia. I loved this bustling industrious city with its friendly inquisitive people, the stunning skyscrapers, glorious food, and fascinating shops, cafes and restaurants. I would love to go back and spend some more time there, and perhaps visit the large Buddha statue on a nearby island.

Anglo-American etiquette..

Percival

A picture of one of my illustrious ancestors, Percival Lunney with his two daughters, all together on his motorcycle, in the early years of the last century in Brisbane, Australia. Percival was a well-known journalist who worked for the Sydney Morning Herald and the Brisbane Tribune. I think it's a fabulous picture. You can almost grasp the excitement of the people in the image.

Times are forever changing

Having enjoyed an early barbecue halfway through April, the weather now seems to have turned. Almost every day the rain pours down in fresh showers. At least for now, talk of globbal warming seems to have abated. Until the next time we get some warm sunshine no doubt. It's funny how there seems to be a religious, even zealous element to the ecomentalist embrace of this phenomenon. It's as if some people need the doom scenario in their lives; especially if it is something they are able to feel guilty about to some degree.

Masochism seems to be an integral part of the progressive activist. Down with us seems to be the preferred motto. I happen not to believe that the West is responsible for all the evils in the world. On the contrary, I think Western civilisation has contributed much of value to the world.

In the blogosphere and on forums on newsmedia sites the old boring battle between left and right is still being fought. I find the whole process fruitless, tiresome and ultimately irrelevant. Since the glorious demise of Soviet communism, the old labels of right-wing versus left-wing seem hopelessly obsolete. No longer should the chattering classes assume that "you're not okay because you're right-wing; I'm okay because I'm left-wing". That sort of thing seems so silly.

Yet the so-called progressive element in society appear to claim moral superiority in almost every field. And some appalling assumptions are made in the process. America bad-suicide bombers good; abortion is a woman's right and certainly not infanticide; organised religion can be equated with ignorant superstition; secularism should be the norm, capitalism is theft, and so on.

Perhaps we should accept the fact that life will never be perfect but we have to just get on with it as best we can. Even socialist France has now elected a president who may launch economic reform. The way forward has to be accompanied by a certain can-do attitude. The challenges are manifold but if anything people are resourceful and capable of surprising themselves. Let's get on with it!

Quite the hype

That's some hype!

Funny stuff?

Dublin needle

Just a quick picture I took while I was in old Dublin town late last year. It's the huge needle that stands on O'Connell Street. Wherever you go around the central area you'll see this needle piercing the skies over Dublin. Not sure what the significance of it is; the needle seems a rather recent addition to the city's architecture. There is some more information here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spire_of_Dublin

Tony Blur waves goodbye..

Today Tony Blair announced that he plans to step down as Prime Minister on the 27th of June. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Apparently, he will be spending the remaining seven weeks touring the world, saying goodbye to all the peoples on this troubled globe.

I have mixed feelings about Blair and his New Labour government. I admire the genius of remaking the Labour party in the Conservatives' image. It takes something to capture the party of the looney left and the old union hacks, turn it around and make it into a modern party that can be trusted with running the economy. That in itself is quite an achievement. It is also a coup that has left the Tory party powerless to profile themselves in any meaningful way.

Obviously, the war over Iraq is bound to dominate Blair's legacy for some time to come. And I think it is clear that the run-up to the invasion was handled in a decidedly dodgy fashion. Can you trust the party of spin with something as important as briefing the House of Commons on the need to take up arms?

In my mind no British PM would have rejected the US plea to stand side-by-side with them in the war on terror. Britain was called upon by the Americans and I can think of no scenario where a British government would have slammed the door in their faces. Britain does not have the French luxury of sulky detachment.

An amazing amount of money has been emptied into the National Health Service, and despite the ubiquitous hysterical media scare stories, it has probably improved quite dramatically.

Next, and for the foreseeable future, we'll have a Scottish Prime Minister. We'll see what happens with Gordon.

The Proposition, a cracking film

The other day I watched another film on the incomparable Film Four channel. I was impressed with The Proposition , a film directed by John Hillcoat and directed by Nick Cave. It was good to see the genre of the western still alive and kicking in this bloody, evocative and utterly compelling film set in 19th Century Australia. Guy Pearce and Ray Winstone were brilliant and menacing; the righteous outlaw and the representative of the authorities with his English wife, played by Emily Watson.

The music (no doubt by Nick Cave) is stunning, the photography truly gorgeous as well as haunting, and the plot riveting it its simplicity. I think Guy Pearce is a very versatile actor and I always feel his roles are convincing and engaging. This is a good role for him as the Irish Australian outlaw forced to hunt out and kill his elder brother who is also the gang's leader and a bit of a sadistic monster if truth be told.

There is a great part for John Hurt as the creepy bounty hunter who gets in Guy Pearce's way as he searches the hills and caves for Arthur, the fugitive brother.

I tend not to be too bothered about clever scripts or plots. For me, it's not that important to have endless twists and turns in the story of a film. I find it much more important that a film makes an impression on my senses on several levels. I can easily be taken in by a film that looks and sounds good in which case I feel the film's story is secondary in my enjoyment.

Australia must have been a remorselessly tough place in days gone by. Almost every one in The Proposition seems brutal and bordering on the senseless. But then this film is not a documentary that digs deep in to a people's psyche. It's a cracking western film, wonderfully filmed and beautifully scored.

I think I will probably get this film on DVD so I can watch it whenever I like. Great stuff indeed!

Flying visit

Just got back from a few days in Holland to be present at my brother's wedding in the little town of Gouda. The ceremony was held in the marvellous fourteenth century Gothic town hall and was typically informal and relaxed. The women in the wedding party were tearful and happy, the groom proud of his new wife, and all was well with the world.

The flight to Amsterdam from Bristol only takes just under an hour which is less time than it takes me to get to work in the morning. I usually sort of enjoy the experience of flying but am also relieved the moment the airplane touches down on Terra Firma again.

I think we're all ultimately alone on take-off and touch down as the sense of mortally makes an impact. I tend to mutter my routine of quick prayers just to ease my heart and mind and mostly it works well.

It was good to come back to Bristol. Although I've lived in Holland for thirty years it is no longer my home. I loved seeing the lights of towns and villages as we flew over dear old Blighty spread underneath. Home is indeed where the heart is and mine belongs here in England.