On Balance

What I've been thinking about:

You've got to take the rough with the smooth. 

There are many things that happen in the country that wouldn't even be on your radar in the city, some good, some not so good. 

• We all know that we regularly have to travel a fair distance to join in with something - but when we get there, we'll likely get a warm welcome and bump into one or two people we know (or 17, if you're Ivie). 

• We sometimes don't get to see the high profile exhibitions that go to big city galleries - but we are surrounded by first class artists and makers (don't forget Spring Fling this weekend).

• We don't always get the big blockbuster films the first weekend they come out - but we do sometimes get special premieres before anyone else. 

There's no shortage of good stuff. At the weekend, we pootled along the road in the van and 45 minutes later were set up in Portpatrick ready for wine, sunburn and lie-ins (thanks to Eilidh for minding the dog). A short cliff walk later past the Grand Designs house (that looks like a nuclear bunker) and we were at a beach that would have been hoaching if it wasn't in our secret corner of the world. And it's all pretty much on our doorstep.

Perfect peace

We've been taking the dog swimming on our doorstep recently too (not in the local pool, you understand, that would just be silly). After getting a fright when she was wee, Rudi hasn't been the keenest of swimmers but has been getting a bit more confident lately and throwing herself into the Bruntis. More often than not we have the place to ourselves, which is just as well given how enthusiastically we cheer when Rudi retrieves a stick. 

The Bruntis at Kirroughtree

The whole reason I started thinking about this rough and smooth thing today was that I had to rewash my washing when it was nearly dry because there was a distinctly unfresh aroma in the air (or fresh, depending on what definition of the word you favour). I muttered away to myself that I'd never had to do that in Leith and then I remembered the basement flat I lived in, in Bristol where my clothes were fousty and ready to go in the wash again by the time they'd actually dried. 

It all balanced out though as we finished the day with home-made venison burgers, given to Ivie last week when he was working nearby. I didn't get that in Leith either. Maybe, it's not so rough around here after all. 

Burning Ambition

What I've been thinking about this week:

1. Films
2. Fame

Ivie had a tractor on loan this week, which made me think that there's probably room for a farmery take on The Terminator franchise. 

He invited me along for a tractor date (how lucky am I...), which was pretty good because the extra seat in the cab was actually comfortable and I didn't ask too many stupid questions (except why tractors aren't allowed at raves - see below 😜).

The other film I've been thinking about is The Wicker Man since this week sees the 50th anniversary of its original release. The first time I saw it was in my friend Naomi's living room in Leith and it was a lot less gory and much more weird than I was expecting.

Fast forward to 2019 and Ivie and I went to a showing in the Isle of Whithorn (a few miles from where poor PC Howie met his end at Burrowhead). It was a whole other experience watching it with someone who knew all the nearby locations and even recognised a few extras in The Green Man/Ellangowan. 

That was topped by a special showing on Sunday night at Newton Stewart Cinema (and more my idea of a date). The audience fell into two main camps:

1. The superfans (including someone who had flown in from France especially) who were interested in rumoured lost footage and identifying the filming location of every single frame. 
2. The locals like us who whispered, 'that's the Tolbooth' and nudged each other when the graveyard in Anwoth appeared.

(My personal highlight was the guide dog in the row behind who leaned in for a cuddle halfway through the film.)

All this got me thinking about whether I had any claims to fame. I've never appeared in a major motion picture (or a minor one for that matter) but I have met a few famous folk along the way. None of them were particularly memorable (for me or them) but I do remember Robert Peston trying to hand me his coat to hang up at a University of Edinburgh event. You'll guess how that went.... 

Obviously, I met a few authors when I worked at Wigtown Book Festival where I allowed myself one moment of being starstruck per festival. In 2015, this was Bill Drummond of KLF fame. He asked me where the toilets were and borrowed my sellotape!! Swoon. 

I suppose that, these days, it's the local heroes I meet through work who are most impressive, the ones making the least noise and just getting on with making a difference (and also not burning a million pounds. Or a policeman in a wicker effigy).