Mamma

I'd like to write a bit about my mother and about why it is entirely logical that her daughter runs an art-gallery.

I have memories, from when I still had to work hard at see over the edge of the table, of mother painstakingly explaining drawings, or  funny cartoons, to me . Drawing, funny or beautifully detailed, portraits or landscapes were part of what my mother did, always.

She drew all her life, all through school, all through work and all through motherhood. Much later, when I had moved away her letters where full of little images, everything that took place around her hopped, skipped or slept among the words in her letters. Around the house there were drawings and paintings of wildlife and flora, almost always with a twist. Very Swedish flowers almost always had a hummingbird or an oriental butterfly fluttering around them. Decorated chair legs had little devils clambering around.

And she taught, in fact she insisted upon, sharing her knowledge with me. I got Breughel, the Dutch painters, Caravaggio, the intricacies of engraving technique, all from her. There was so much to see! Not just the etruscian colleections in Rome, or bits of the Louvre I have never managed to find again, but the light ... as it painted foliage, crept through a broken fence or caught stones in a glittering stream

She painted too, and made prints and also some ceramics. But It was the drawing, her biology notes full of flower images and portraits of teachers and peers that I remember.

Her eye and her joy - " look there, look over there there".  Later she happily let me drag her through awkward lanes just to rejoice in how the light fell on a windowsill.

Mum never knew about my little spat with cancer, it was not thre right time to tell her. And I am so sorry that I didn't know then what I know now about cancer treatment. I could have given her
better support.

and the show goes on ...

Whilst Noah was making last minute adjustments to the Ark and the flood was in full dress rehearsal mode, we opened the latest exhibition yesterday afternoon - Three: day and night - with Lesley Anne Derks, Catherine King and Jacqueline Marr in attendance. And it was a great fun afternoon! Everyone was happy to see the show up - the work is very good indeed and the three artists, whose work is completely different from each other's, were pleased with the hang. It was so good to see everyone taking time to study the pieces and speaking about them.

The weather has, however, maintained its soggy determination to make May a month to forget. The poor garden is ;like a bog, the pond, which developed a slow leak in the autumn, keeps itself topped up with the copious addition of rain. At least, this year so far, I have not needed to top up too often. I dread the inevitable point at which I shall have to hoick out the fish and store them safely, yank up the plants, demolish the upper rim and take out the lining. What a horrible job that will be. Then will come the whole thing again, but in reverse. Not happy.

Speaking of fish, here is a related image by Catherine King - the show continues until June 11th, come along to see it if you can!

Fantastic photography

The Hasselblad prize 2013 has been awarded to the ingenious Spanish photographer Joan Fontcuberta. Joan Fontcuberta is most famous as an conceptual photographer, but he is also a well known author, curator and tutor.
He uses his influence to publicise the history  of Spanish photography internationally.
Since the mid 1980's Joan Foncuberta has used his photography to depict mistrust and doubt concerning the authorities. But he also wants to expose image making and different media as not always truthful or trustworthy.
In their motivation for the award the Hasselblad Foundation point out  how engaging Joan Fontcuberta's work is, also 'his bizarre humour, sharp intellect and flawless technique  which allows Joan Foncuberta the elaborated provocations which permeates all of his photographs.
A book with his work is underway and on October 25 an exhibition of his photographs will open at the Hasselblad Centre in Gothenburg, Sweden

You can see more of his work on his website; www Fontcuberta. com

Artwork to make you think ...

When you go to an exhibition opening here we like to think that you will both enjoy yourself and have time to appreciate the work on display. This is not, however, Ulrika's recent experience in Sweden, as she outlines in her second contribution to The Line Monoblog below....


An unexpected exhibition

"The gallery was packed but with a little goodwill there was a space left for the pram as well. What a difference from the windy and snowy conditions outside. Heads bobbing in the crowd and laughter all around us.

Now where was the art?
We had been promised paintings inspired by the sea.

-CANAPES?

A woman held up a full plate in front of us.

We nodded and smiled.

At our question to whatever delicious food was presented. She quickly  took a bite off all the different varieties and with her mouth full proceeded to explain what they were.

-I HAVE ACTUALLY MADE THEM ALL MYSELF!

We nodded and smiled.
Now then, the art...

A voice rose from behind her:
-Now I recall what the name is... Tapenade.
-NO, MY NAME IS ---, she answered the man back.
-I meant the olive mix on the flatbread, he shouted over the crowd.

The woman did not seem to have heard him.

 She turned to us and continued:
- MY MOTHER USED TO WORK FOR THE ENVIRONMENTAL AGENCY: REST ASSURED I HAVE WASHED MY HANDS THOROUGHLY.

We nodded and smiled and tried to get closer to the pictures hanging on the walls.

-A GLASS OF CHAMPAGNE?

There she was again. Before we had time to answer she was wondering where she had put her own glass and she disappeared into the sea of heads with the tray.

We smiled and made another try to see some art.

-WHAT A WONDERFUL CHILD YOU HAVE!

The woman pressed down her face into the pram.
-IS SHE FOR SALE?

We smiled and politely declined the offer of an ever decreasing sum of money for our daughter.

We  tried to concentrate on the art. There were paintings of lonely beaches, sea and bare cliffs. Serene and calming...

-DID I GIVE YOU SOME CHAMPAGNE?

Sea, red cliffs in the sunset, seabirds...

-WELL?

Boathouses, stones against stones...

-LOOK AT THAT I HAVE TWO GLASSES OF CHAMPAGNE! HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?

We smiled and had no answers at hand.

Calm waters, unsettled waters, deep blue...

The art on the walls would have taken our breath away if the woman had not done that already."

A new year - a new plan!

2013 started really well with a fantastic holiday in Morocco then coming back to good things in general and the news that 2 of Elisabet's photographs had been selected by Glasgow Print Studio to travel with them to the London Art Fair - and we intend to go on along the same, positive lines throughout the year.

To begin - our good friend Ulrika, who now lives in the north of Sweden, has agreed to write a short piece each month for publication on this blog. We are keen on promoting creativity in all formats, and are delighted to encourage where we can - we, and Ulrika, would love to hear what you think, so please do contact us via email or through facebook.

From Sweden - number 1

I don't own a bag of buttons.

They made bowls of buttons. "Bring your own buttons", she said. I don't own any spare buttons, I thought. Why don't I? My mother had a large bag of buttons, all sizes, shapes and colours. She always had that bag and I guess it still is somewhere. I remember the excitement of bringing it out and looking through it, digging deep into it with small hands. I think, at my age, it would be expected to have a bag of buttons. But I don't. I don't even know where I put the extra buttons that come with every new pair of clothing. I have probably thrown them away. All though I can not recall ever doing that.

They made bowls of buttons out of their spare ones. The colours spread over the table, the shapes carefully chosen. A bowl of buttons for buttons? I don't know.

The ones that didn't bring, or maybe like me didn't have, any spare buttons, continued with their crocheting, small squares, small perfect squares on top of each other on the table like a multicoloured pile of pancakes. I don't know how to crochet and if I did I probably forgot it twenty years ago. I don't own a needle. My mother had several at my age. Where I come from, the expectancy of owning a crocheting needle at my age is less than a bag of spare buttons.

Some neither made anything with buttons nor a pile out of squares, they sat and worked on their poems. Their short, small and intricate sentences opened up a whole new world as they read them out aloud to us. There were the wish to eat two bags of buns and feel good about it and the lines about the woman holding an old persons hand before she had to leave for something else or even sentences that all ended with "..., like water".

The words flowed out of pens onto paper, like water.

I listened and at the same time someone put a candle in one of the bowls made out of buttons and the light prisms played as the words flew by the square pancake tower. 

So this is how it should be done!

A very happy - and busy - couple of days celebrating 90 years of life and Elisabet and I were fit for nothing! The cure - a short trip to Amsterdam and lots of sleep on the way there and home. We had a lovely time - the sun shone, the canals were beautiful, the food was fine, and we found time for a short course in exhibition handling. After some 17 years of The Line we are pretty good at what we do, we thought - but there are always thing that can be learned. And so - fine weather canvas management as it should be practised!

It is Monday morning ....

and there are three men watching another use a pneumatic drill right outside the gallery window. He is making a hole about a foot square - what are four men going to be able to do with a hole of that size? And why are they digging it any way?

None of that was in my mind when I planned to write - what I wanted to say was that we shall be celebrating my stepfather's 90th birthday in the coming days. This is an event which seems to require enormous planning and logistics, and at least two days of feasting - but plans are in place, my sister is cooking and baking for an army and we all all be very jolly and stuffed to the gunnels. No one will need food for weeks - and Jim will be 90! Isn't that something? How on earth did that happen?

This will be followed by The Line being closed for three days whilst Elisabet and I recover - this is what I really needed to write about. The Line will be closed from Sunday August 19th to Tuesday August 21st inclusive, opening again at 10.00 am on Wednesday 22nd. We are sorry if that causes any problems, but will be here to apologise and make up on the 22nd.

He is drilling again ......

The thing about damp .....

... is that it slowly and unobtrusively eats away at the root, at the very core of things until moulds develop and the structure begins to crumble. That is rather like the effect the weather seems to be having on me at the moment. Everything seems fine until there is a slight bump along the way, and at that point the smell of decay and rot wends its way into the atmosphere and something inside slips a little. For me this manifests itself as a kind of grumbling irritation with all and everything, and it only takes a very little to bring the lot down about my ears. Today my intentions in offering to help out were questioned, scales were brought out to weigh the value of the intention and the self righteous justification put forward was the straw which broke the camel's back. If my intent is to be doubted then fine, I will not offer again.

And that is a polite version of how I really feel. Do you think a dose of vitamin D would be useful for a bad temper? I really do not like being that bad tempered old bat, even tho' I do think I have a reasonable point to make - I just wish it were possible for me to make it more gently.

Ah well - surely there will be some decent weather sometime soon. The carefully laid plans I had made to take Elisabet to the Game fair at Scone on her birthday were scuppered, but we did manage to buy the necessary welly boots on line instead. Fortunately.

The bees are finding things hard going at the moment, and are needing additional food as the days when they can fly and collect pollen are limited. It is fascinating learning about how they live and the things that need to be taken into consideration when siting and working with a hive. Elisabet has today shown me a picture - from Swedish TV - of a swarm of bees which took up residence from the cross bar of a bicycle. Everything from the bar to the chain and pedals was covered in a smooth, bulbous sheath of bees. It was, in its own way, quite beautiful.

And now it is the end of the day in the gallery - many more people have been out and about today, which is lovely, and the rain has held off. Maybe, just maybe, the damp proofing has arrived!

to see ourselves as others see us

The new show at The Line opened yesterday with Colin Wilson's fantastic fruit and Lorna Pirrie's portraits - we just could not resist showing you The Ladies of The Line which is now proudly on display. This is one that will certainly not be getting away!

And the loose ends? Sent back in the post, I fear. Done and dusted and that ground will not be being disturbed again. Memories are precious, no one said they needed to be accurate.

May you live in interesting times

2012 has been a curious year so far. Lots good, somethings less pleasing and others where I wish I had learned the lessons I know well enough about but which I seem to be able to forget on a regular basis.

An example - this is the one about not going back to the past. That is one I should remember after the trip to Buckie for the whatever number it was school reunion. I think it would have been very different had I remained in Buckie for longer, but we left some six months after the event that was being remembered, and a lot has happened to everyone concerned in the intervening period. It was lovely to have been remembered and invited to go along, but the wise person would have said 'thank you', sent best wishes and stayed away. I went along. I last saw all of these people when they and I were aged 11 and 12, I was remembering children and could not really respond to the adults I met. And there were those that were not there and I was mourning an 11 year old when the one that was lost was about 30. I should not have gone.

And now? - ah, now I have been remembering a close friend. Dangerous ground best not explored. I will learn one day - but for now there is some tidying up to do, I fear. Loose ends can cause upset.

The SQA exams are up and running, and the strange days spend surrounded by endless bits of paper are back again. There is a satisfaction to having everything parcelled up and ready for collection, but I do begin to wonder if that is enough of a reason to go through all of the rest of it .......... And the sun has been shining today - bodes well for the weekend and yet another onslaught on the ground elder.

And how has life been for you?

the 18th year has begun

The annual escape took us to Italy this year, not India, and we left in time to celebrate the New Year at our destination. Often we have been hanging around at airports, or in mid flight and not sure where we were, when it was time for the bells. But this year we were in Florence, and had organised ourselves so well that we hit the streets in time to join in with the celebrations. And boy do those Italians know how to celebrate. Innocently, and without having thought much about it at all, we had thought we would stand by one of the bridges on the Arno and hear the New Year being rung in from the wonderful churches all around. It was nothing like that.

First of all we had to learn about the Italian love of fireworks. By that we mean a deep, personal love of the things, of being up close to them, of having lots and lots of them - and being especially fond of the ones which make LOUD noises. There were indeed the big rockets that have become so popular here now, and they were let off within a few feet of passersby with nary any injury. But the passion is for firecrackers, the louder and the more the merrier. It was as if the artillery were in town, and the ambition to blow historic, fantastic Florence to kingdom come, and then do it again as often as possible. The booming and banging echoed in the narrow streets between the tall buildings and all around the cathedral until all hearing was lost and the orchestra bravely playing The Rite of Spring in the freezing cold did not have a chance.

So many firecrackers were there that long after New Year, long after Epiphany, the occasional Boom raised the heart rate of the uninitiated.

It was controlled chaos, but great fun. And, as I have said, no one got hurt, no one panicked, young children and those with grey hair all joined in with impunity.

And we had a lovely holiday. Lots of walking, lots of standing still and just looking. Of course we went to the churches and museums, of course we visited the markets and the shops. But above all we did exactly what we wanted as and when we decided to do it. How often can we say that?

So - welcome to The Line Monoblog for 2012. This is the start of the 18th year of The Line Gallery and we have every intention that it will be as full and as interesting as each of the previous 17 have been.

OOPS!

Ah well - it was inevitable really. You will find the December monoblog instalment under the heading 'Diary', I am sorry to say. The end of the year is nigh and it is time I had a holiday - but it does give me the opportunity to wish you all a Merry Christmas a second time!

New kids on the block ...

It is not every day that I would find I had something in common with an image like this one, but do you see the large gentleman in the centre of the photograph? His name is Kelvin Sewell and, until recently, he was member of the Homicide Department of the Baltimore Police - and he is coming to the Book Festival on November 5th. He and investigative journalist Steven Janis have written a book - Why we kill - which will be discussed on that Saturday afternoon. Never having met a murder detective, never mind been instrumental in bringing one to my home town before, I now have to work out how to make sure they get here safely, are comfortable, have an audience - and pay them in dollars. I will not be doing all of this on my own, of course, but it does add a certain frisson to life that brightens up the dull days. I am looking forward to the festival as a whole this year, there is quite a buzz about it. On Monday last week we held the second Linlithgow Literary Lunch in Ship2Shore - try saying that after a wine gum or two. It was a good event and one we shall repeat in 2012.

Elisabet gets back from her sojourn in Sweden on Tuesday, which will be good. I think she will be pleased to be home and I know I will be delighted to have her back. I wonder if she will notice the new sign for the gallery that will go up tomorrow?

The leaves are golden

I'm sitting here, having just posted news of our Christmas exhibition With the wind in their wings and it occurs to me that I am looking out at the trees on the High Street - and their leaves are browns and golds. It is September 20th for goodness sake! It is also pretty cold sitting here, and I don't remember either of these things happening at this date in previous years. I know, I know - its age, time passes all the more quickly as they years grow. Nuts, is all I have to say to you - do you remember the leaves turning and your fingers needing gloves in previous Septembers in Linlithgow. See!

Having moaned above, the trees do look good. I always enjoy autumn - it had never before struck me that there might be a chance of there being just TOO much autumn, I always felt I could have done with more. In the dim past I do remember Charles explaining, from his great height and certainty, that he didn't like autumn much - 'too much flux'' he said. Well, flux or not that argument never impressed me much (but why do I remember it?) and I will stick with my pleasure.

In January we will have been here for 17 years, or rather The Line will. When I was 17 I was about to leave school and head to University - it felt as if I had a whole life behind me and a new one was about to begin. I don't feel the same need to move on now, but it does make for an interesting comparison - for me at least. What do the next few years bring to challenge and divert? I will wait and see -

in the meanwhile let me explain the image which accompanies this ramble. Ruthie had a stroke when she was 30 and nearly lost her life. Now, some three years later, she is able to look after herself in her own flat, grows vegetables in the garden and assists with a variety of enterprises around town in a voluntary capacity. A couple of weeks ago was the great Glasgow to Edinburgh cycle ride. With only one arm and one leg functioning properly, Ruthie was unable to join in directly, but with a little planning the static bike was sited outside The Line and Ruthie got stuck in - 15 miles were completed. The tee shirt on the window? One of the guys cycling by stopped for a chat - then disappeared into the pub next door. He came back minus his ride tee shirt, which he then presented to Ruthie as 'she deserved it more than he did'.

Could not agree more.

Hosie is here

What can I say - there is something deeply pleasing when a box arrives from Shetland, and these chaps climb out - it makes me giggle. Childsplay we have called it, and elsewhere you may find a rational explanation for the exhibition and our drive to appeal to all ages. Don't believe a word of it! This is simply my way of bringing my pals to Linlithgow and having fun!

An update

Elisabet has been reminding me that the last entry on this blog clearly identifies that June has come at last, and 'here we are in the middle of August'. Yes, the summer has flown and we have all experienced the phenomenon of the afternoon monsoon rather more that we would like. However, today the sun is shining, people are out on the streets wearing their brightly coloured summer clothes, and all is well.

Radio, television (not that I have one)and the newspapers have been full of doom and gloom in recent weeks - when it is not the stock market it is Libya, when it is not Syria it is the recent riots in England, and then we had the shootings in Norway and the mindset that allowed such things to be possible. It is all true. these things have, and are, happening - but so has so much else besides. Time, I think, to enjoy the sunshine,breathe some fresh air and laugh a little.

This summer has been interesting at The Line. Linlithgow empties as soon as the schools close for the holidays. This has been the pattern for a number of years and this was no different. All of the people we are accustomed to seeing out and about along the High Street were suddenly no longer there, and the streets were populated with visitors to the town. New people asking about the artists whose work was on display, wondering about opening hours and the whereabouts of a good cup of coffee. There have been more flowers than ever visible this year too. More and more businesses have responded to the efforts of Burgh Beautiful and have added their own contribution to making the town more attractive. Judging for the Scotland in Bloom competition took place a couple of weeks ago - not quite in the expected downpour, but without benefit of much sun. Linlithgow looked great! Our offerings stood out bravely - lots of green and an abundance of buds. Not a flower in sight, I am sorry to have to write, but lots evidence of good intention. Come back today, Judges - the threatened flowers are showing their colours with abandon!

Speaking of shops and businesses, it is clear to anyone visiting Linlithgow that the number and range of independent shops and concerns along the High Street contribute greatly to the appeal of the town. We should be, and are, proud of the range of independent traders who each add their own qualities to the overall picture.

There is a useful breakdown of the reasons for shopping locally, prepared by IndieBound, a movement of community oriented independent booksellers across the UK and Ireland which we think could usefully be adopted by independent businesses of all kind. We hope you will find these convincing, and respond positively to their sentiment

By shopping in your local independent shop today you help to

* keep the high street healthy
* protect the environment
* support your local community
* create and retain local jobs
* engage with your neighbours

Thank you!

and here we are in June ...

... and it is raining. In fact is seems to have been raining for as long as I can remember, but that may well be because I spent most of May indoors and didn't see the light of day. What can I tell you about the school exams? Nothing that would be of the slightest interest, believe me, and I am pleased that they are over for another year.

The gallery is looking good at the moment, even if I say so myself. We have two very good exhibitions of work by artists who live locally - Leo du Feu is showing a collection of sketches made on his trip across Canada, whilst Anna Divers is showing the outcome of some two years visiting and listening to a lady who has lived in Blackness for almost all of her 80 years. Memory and contemporary Blackness are woven together in a fascinating collection of paintings of the public and private. There is such a lot to discover and think about.

The Marches came off in good weather this year, with the parade perhaps longer than in previous years. There were fewer huge floats, many more people dressed up and smalled decorated cars and tractors taking part. The Gala Day, however, was damp and rained upon for most of its journey along the High Street. The fairies and flower girls looked cute as ever in their special dresses, all concealed in clear rain capes to look like cellophaned bunches of flowers, but their little faced were drawn and cold. The bands, however, enlivened proceedings greatly and, whilst festivities in the Peel had to be relocated, I think all went off well.

From the above you will realise we did not go away this year - school ended on the Thursday before Marches, and there was neither enough time nor energy to sort something out. It was good to be here though and the weather meant we were able to spend the latter part of the day in the garden.

Newsflash - the pet count has increased, in the last week, by some 20,000! Elisabet and Jill drove to Corsock on Monday night and came back with a nucleus of bees - can you imagine driving about with a car full of bees? The hive is now out in the countryside (I can't write where as there is a very unhealthy spread of hive rustling at the moment, lots of hives have been killed off either through bad weather or disease, and those that are still on the go are at a premium) and our fingers are crossed for some honey by the end of summer. There is a huge amount to learn about bees and how to look after them, although it is hard to think of them in the way one might a dog. There are just so MANY of them!

Don't tell any one - but the rain has stopped and the sky is lightening. I am off to to the sun dance in the corner .....

April is here

The sun has shone on a number of occasions over the last week or so and, when the wind has died down a little, there has been some real warmth in the air. Shorts have been seen on Linlithgow High Street!

Seriously, it has been lovely. The garden is in complete confusion with daffodils coming into flower whilst the cherry blossom is in full flood, the stellata magnolia is knocking spots off anything else that hurls itself into flower, and the garden is glowing. The camelia has been damaged by the frosts and the damp but, somehow, all of the flowers below waist height have been saved whilst those higher up have been scorched and dried out. The dog house has had its annual spring clean and Saari, Cosimo and CJ spent some hours sleeping there earlier in the week. The whole place had been thoroughly tested by Casper, Wren and Poppy at the weekend, and found to be acceptable. Now we have three children prepared to fight three dogs over ownership!

The pond too is coming back into its own. The filter was cleaned and switched on again a few days ago - and the water remained cloudy. I put this down to the size of the pond and, for once, prepared to wait. That was until I did some tidying around the greenhouse and found that we had had some small furry visitors living beneath the slabs - I found this out when the one I was standing on gave way and sank into a tunnel beneath. Yes, they were back - only this time they have eaten through the live electrical cable. Which explained why the water was brown. With the help of Geraldine and the purchase of a 3amp fuse, we are now back in business and the water is clearing nicely. What to do about the unexpected guests is another question - that I don't propose to discuss here, you will be glad to know.

We are changing shows in the gallery ready for Saturday when On the Waterfront will open. Seaside images with blue skies and boats and figures in summer shirts. Colour really, that is what it is all about - let's get away from the winter greys! Saturday is also the day on which I shall be donning the thick gloves and joining in the big spring clean up around the town and the loch. There always seems to be a competition to fill the largest number of bin bags - I think I would rather live in the town which filled the smallest number, but I won't be making that case too loudly on Saturday. It could be taken the wrong way entirely!

Spring is ......... where, exactly?

Well, today is the 13th, Elisabet is safely returned from the delayed visit to Sweden, where she had to dig out her skis. These last saw the light of day, and felt the cold, about 15 years ago. The near metre depth of snow in the countryside around her mothers house led to desperate measures, and a reminder that skis will move both forwards and backwards if one is not careful. One fall, however, and all seemed to come flooding back.

Yesterday it snowed here. Again. Or rather, there was sleet falling pretty steadily for much of the day, variation coming when it changed to steady rain. Delightful. I can report, however, that both damaged ceilings are on the way to full recovery and that work on the shower room will start next week. Much, much better. Also, the poetry part of the OU course has come to an end - heaven alone knows what will be made of the submissions I made, but it is done, it need never be done again and that is just fine in my book. I love poetry, especially listening to poets reading their own work. I have never wanted to write a poem and having read the guidance given I am more bewildered and frustrated than previously, and wish to write poetry even less. That must be quite an outcome for the OU, but I very much doubt if I am the only one in this position.

Not a lot else to report really. This show at The LIne has had some marvellous work by Laura Hudson and Lucy Newton and I shall miss it when it all comes to an end on Tuesday. But, by Saturday we will have installed All things bright and beautiful and the cycle will have started all over again.

Round about now Scotland and England are playing in the 6 Nations. Is it any wonder there is a feeling of gloom around? Oh, for a miracle ...... Just a little one would be good.

Febuary is here .....

... and there are still holes in two ceilings and the tiles are still off in the shower room. When I am at my most argumentative I think I might make an ideal insurance company employee. If the job is - as I can only assume it must be - all about finding reasons for not allowing repair work to go ahead, I think I could wrangle and dispute until the customer found another solution. Fortunately, this bloody minded-ness works from the other side also and, now I have at last obtained one of the two required estimates for repair costs, I shall argue that I should be allowed to have the damage put right. A second estimate, I hear you say - have YOU ever tried to get two estimates? One has taken weeks, will I live long enough for a second to materialise? Watch this space...

Linlithgow is grey and cold, and we have just had the annual visit from BT concerning the telegraph pole at the bottom of the garden. Each year a new enthusiast arrives to tell us that BT will just be digging the pole up and replacing it - they never have any information on exactly how they will dig up the tallest pole in West Lothian and then take it out through the close, but they have spoken of digging machinery in the past. Through the close then down stairs, I don't think so. They are then puzzled when I ask whose permission they have to dig up a private garden in the first place - and then they go away and send a new innocent back the following year. I am not going to tell you for how long this nonsense has been happening, but it became boring some years ago. From where BT gets the notion that it rules the world, or at least this little bit of the High Street, I don't know - but I wonder what they would say if it were their garden in question.

Time for the happy pills I think.