The World According To Bertie

For comfort food I turn to spaghetti bolognese, for comfort reading I turn to Alexander McCall Smith.  As I started on the book I wrote those opening words in my blog posting and saved them for when the book was finished.  A few days later the following paragraph written by Helen appeared in Helen and Ian's Book Blog : "People widely accept the concept of 'comfort food'. I wonder if anyone else has special books to which they turn and reread for comfort or inspiration?"  Well I don't return to McCall Smith's books to re-read them (not yet anyway) and they don't inspire me  But they are the spag bol of reading for me.  They are undemanding, entertaining and, above all, comfortable.  And for anyone with a knowledge and love of Edinburgh (as I do) the 44 Scotland Street and The Sunday Philosophy Club series are just that little bit more special.

Having said that there is something about The World According to Bertie (the fourth in the 44 Scotland Steet series) which seems to me to be rather self-indulgent on the Author's part. McCall Smith is an exceptional man - that cannot be denied.  He was, amongst other things, Professor of Medical Law at the University of Edinburgh and served on national and international bioethics bodies until he gave it up in 1999 to concentrate on writing fiction after the global recognition of The No 1 Ladies Detective Agency series.  However in this book his desire to show off his exceptional knowledge occasionally grates and appears to have been done for no other reason than to show that he has that knowledge.

That won't stop me reading the next one and the one after that.  I love spag bol too much.

Quotes:

People who do that [decide that Edinburgh is too small for them and move to London] often then discover that London is too big for them, much to the amusement of those who stayed behind in Edinburgh in the belief that it was just the right size for them.

Money, education - these give you freedom, but they can take you away from your roots, your place.

We are here [in life] and by and large we seem to have a need to continue.  In that case, the real question to be addressed is: how are we going to make the experience of being here as fulfilling, as good as possible?

...the English are half mad when they think nobody's looking.

Unhappiness in childhood was worse than the unhappiness one encountered in later life; it was so complete, so seemingly without end.

What if?  Big Lou's answer came quickly: One did not engage in such idle speculation in Arbroath.  'No point thinking about that,' she said 'It didn't happen'.

...for most of us nothing very much happens; that is our life.

But was it better, he wondered, to be trapped [in a marriage] with a Porsche or not trapped without a Porsche?

Do you remember his book-distressing service for the nouveau riche?  [CJ that would be a really good idea for you.]

Nothing To Say

Last night Pat surprised me.  And then threatened me if I told anyone.  So as this is just a diary no one's going to know are they?

Actually how she surprised me was by saying that as CJ managed to write a blog posting every day how come I couldn't.  What was she doing, she wondered, going to my blog each day only to find that the cupboard had no more in it than when she was last opened it.  That anyone should actually be waiting for the ramblings of a vieux pet ennuyeux astounded me.

As it happens I had been trying to think of a posting for the Notes but I've had nothing to say. Then some lyrics kept buzzing round inside my head (plenty of room for them in there you see) but I couldn't actually remember the words or the song although I could remember that it was Meat Loaf who sang it. So I've just spent 30 seconds finding out ie I pulled out the Meat Loaf CDs. The words weren't as I remembered them of course so the whole exercise was a bit of a waste of time. However as I have nothing else to post about I thought I just tell you the story anyway. The song, by the way, was I couldn't have said it better myself. The words I was trying to remember turned out to be "And you said nothing at all, Well I couldn't have said it better myself".

One thing no one has ever said of me is "He can't ramble on.".  'Cos I can.

A Rough Morning At Sea

This morning broke after two days of gales from the North with the wind still from the North and still very strong. When those conditions prevail and, depending on the tide, the MV Isle of Lewis sets out from Stornoway for Ullapool and sails North parallel to the coast of Lewis past my house. I can't see her from my house when she sails on her usual route. This morning the setting was very dramatic. The shots of the vessel as she negotiates the swell appear, in my experience, more dramatic than they are on board and at least are simply in one plane ie unlike the MV Suilven before her she does not corkscrew - that singularly unpleasant motion which tests even the hardest stomach.

A Visit To Gisla

On Tuesday (is it really that long ago?) Pat and Dave and I went over to see Carol and Jenny in Gisla. Apart from the excellent company I always enjoy the fact that there is a wonderful garden surrounded by high trees which provides an excellent home for lots of birds - despite the explosion in the semi-feral cat population. They also provide wonderful still air for the midges but that didn't affect us at this time of year. I had hoped to get some photos of the Dunnocks on the bird table but they left soon after we arrived and I didn't see them again.

The most amusing part of the visit was finding squeezy Marmite. As a lover of Marmite I had reservations about such a potential travesty but I'm assured that it's perfectly good. I do love the Marmite manufacturer's sense of humour though: