Life in The Craft Lane

Here's my latest column in Shetland Life magazine for those who can't get it unless you go to Barretts of Byres Road. S.x.

Last weekend I enjoyed the glitter and magic of The Clickimin Christmas Craft Fair. My wife, in her capacity as a jeweller and silversmith set up her silver at a stall between some beautiful photographs of Shetlands wild flowers and a collection of gorgeous woven textiles. (Textiles? in Shetland? Could happen.)

I was there in my capacity as her shop boy. I was pretty much blown away by the quality of goods on offer- particularly the table full of tasty handmade sweeties across the aisle that I had to stare at all weekend, my teeth and waist line screaming “don’t do it!”

All of the traders a met and spoke to were exceptionally welcoming to us newcomers to the fair, full of compliments for the work and encouragement. Happy crowds came and went gathering up all of their Christmas presents in one go. One recurring theme was how people kept saying that they wanted to give their loved ones something special, unique or handmade and that they were extra chuffed to be buying from small independent traders. In fact the woman who ran the coffee shop blatantly claimed “Ahm no’ sending my money sooth!”

It’s very heart-warming to hear this. We still have a great respect and love for the “croft industry” even though the world of big business is letting everyone down. I’m not sure I want to spend my dark winter afternoons traipsing around the busy shopping centres of Aberdeen, Glasgow and Edinburgh giving my money to the big high street stores owned by conglomerates of “entrepreneurs” who have little interest in what their shop is selling just so long as it sells.

I think that’s one of the basic problems that causes big business to mess up- they don’t care what they are selling. They just care about the selling itself. Look at Duncan Bannatyne, our representative “up by the bootstraps” Jock in the Dragons Den. He started selling ice cream then moved on to selling residences in care homes and that lead into selling memberships to the gym. Sorry, but I don’t see the link. I’m not saying there is anything wrong with confectionery, pensioner care or exercise; I’m just saying I think it’s pretty clear that the man has no passion for the actual thing he is selling.

Take Sir Allen Sugar too. Just before he took over the Sinclair Company on behalf of Amstrad he went on record saying, “We’re business men. We’re not made up of ex-graduates throwing a bunch of electronic components into a plastic box.”

Oh it’s that easy is it? Well I tried throwing a bunch of electronic components in a plastic box. All I got was an awkward and boring baby rattle. There’s a bit more to it than that. Here was Sir Clive Sinclair, the man who in the 1970’s, while everyone though he was delusional, had the vision that one day there would be a computer in every home in Britain - the man who developed the microchip which is probably in your own mobile phone right now- ridiculed for having a baldy head, a ginger beard, a utopian vision of the electric car and a predilection to innovation over salesmanship. The Businessman doesn’t care. If it doesn’t sell it doesn’t matter-move on and sell something else. At least before Sir Richard Branson invested in soft drinks and aeroplanes he spent twenty years getting rich off something he didn’t necessarily make but he absolutely loved and understood-music. (Notice how they are all Knights, by the way. The new Templars?)

I would like to shout out to two young groups I met at the craft fair who showed great love for their product. One is Anderson High Schools entrepreneurial team, Calibre, who have developed “The Ti-Pod,” a tee-pee style greenhouse designed to encourage people to grow their own fruit and veg in limited space. I believe they raised a lot of awareness about self-sufficiency and a few sales to boot. (So enthusiastic were they I overheard them in heated discussion about whether it should be pronounced “Ty-pod” or “Tee-pod.”)

The other is Windhouse Productions, a collective of teenage writers who have taken old Shetland ghost stories and rewritten them in their own words for a modern readership. Even though the book will not be published until 10th December they managed to sell many advance copies just with their passion and enthusiasm for the project. I’ve got mine on order.

It was wonderful to see so many diverse groups in such a mutually supportive environment selling such a variety of wares that they had created with their own hands and imaginations right here in Shetland. The rest of the UK could take a tip.

More Shetland Life

Hej Kids,

It turns out I'm the new columinst at Shetland Life Magazine. It's like the Sunday supplement magazine to The Shetland Times except it's once a month instead of once a week (there only 22,000 people up here.)

Anyway, for those of you who can't get the magazine here is the first of I hope many articles in the section known as (wait for it...) Nelson Column!


Nelsons Column Nov 09.

My wife and I are about to enter our second Shetlandic winter. When we arrived to live and work in Shetland in August 2008 we were informed “If de can stand two winters, de’ll be fine.” Well, I say informed; we were more instructed. This is an aspect of the Shetland psyche I have come to admire in a curious way- a straight forwardness mixed in with a laid-back attitude.

I grew up in a North Glasgow housing scheme called Cadder where all the streets were named after places in Shetland- I grew up on Vaila Street; my best friend lived on Tresta Road; I went school on Herma Street- so it was strangely fitting that I ended up here. And with a name like Nelson, and a childhood obsession with my Norwegian heritage, I slotted right in. In fact last month at Baltasound Hall I performed at a show where everyone in the first act was called Somethingson- Johnson, Adamson, Nicolson, Sandison, Jameson, Nelson.

I often return to Glasgow to work, at least once a month in fact, so I am constantly reminded of how Shetland is indeed its own thing. The mess of contradictions is fascinating. When you first arrive it’s a straightforward, “Who are you, why are you here and what do you want?” Then as soon as you have explained yourself it’s “Yes that sounds reasonable. Come on in, how can I help?” Perhaps the sharp contrast of summer and winter influences this see saw attitude.

When we arrived here last year the storm around Mareel was still raging. Even after the building was given the go ahead in a close called democratic election, people were calling for recounts, shouting how they were avowed to overturn the decision. Many vociferous words were exchanged.
“Wow”, I thought, “What kind of building could invoke such hue and cry? A maximum security prison? A nuclear waste refinery? An Al Qaeda training ?”
“It’s a cinema.”
“What?”
“It’s a cinema and concert hall with a rehearsal room.”
“Like a picture house?”
“Yes.”
”Where people sit silently in the dark sharing a bon huer with a touching storyline or a rollocking blockbuster?”
“Yes.”
“And a concert hall with a state of the art sound system to attract world class musicians?”
“Yes.”
“And a rehearsal room with a sprung floor for peerie lassies to go to dance class and couples in their thirties go to do salsa lessons?
“Yes.”
“???”

Whether or not you will rejoice in Mareel or obstinately refuse to enjoy it once it’s built, you can be assured that this is the kind of debate that is lacking down south. Shetlands propensity to ask questions and make noise ensured that the Sumburgh departures are the only flights in FlyBe’s entire fleet that offer a piece of hold luggage and a refreshment in the ticket price.
And of course we cannot ignore the huge furore surrounding Viking Energy. Even those who are completely in favour of building a wind farm are asking question after question, making sure that what they get is what they want and are not palmed off with any old system.
From what I observe that wouldn’t happen down south. A Glasgow conversation could go like this:
“Excuse me, pal, we want to build a motorway slip road through you kitchen.”
“Uch, that’s ridiculous!”
Then they would sit back smoking their fags blaming asylum seekers, teenage neds and “they idiots in Brussels” rather than use that energy to question those who actually have the power to make the decisions that affect their lives.
Perhaps Shetland has always been like this. Certainly in the 70’s Shetland asserted itself as the only council in the UK to benefit from oil revenue. Shell even regarded the council’s chief executive, Ian Clark, as more difficult to deal with than Colonel Gaddafi.

I think it goes deeper. It’s the Scandinavian in you. As a regular visitor to Sweden I have noticed that young and old are in touch with socio-political goings on at all levels. Shetland even looks like a Scandinavian country- wheelchair and pram access properly built; pothole free roads; the arts and leisure taken seriously; a proper reliable public transport system (honestly, if a bus or a ferry is cancelled up here it’s because it is physically incapable of moving. Down there it’s one flake of snow and the place comes to a standstill.)

Now of course Shetland does have its downsides, which I would be foolish to discuss in my first column for this publication, lest my effigy appear at this year’s Up Helly Aa (he said, flattering himself). But it is the Cartesian habit of questioning everything that impresses me, and takes me back to my 1980’s youth when people shouted loud.

So as a result of last winter, my wife and I go into this winter with our first child on the way. That’s the kind of winter I like.

Sandy Nelson Oct 2009

Marshalls Misdemeanours

This Friday, November 6th 2009, tune in to BBC Radio Scotland at 11.30am for hilarious campus comedy "Marshall's Misdemeanours."

Comedy set at Kibble College of Culture and Sport, where we follow the adventures of Marshall and his mates as they embark on ill-advised love affairs and are tormented by past rivalries.

I play Marshall and am surrounded by the beautiful cast Gabriel Quigley, Stephen McNicol, Louise Ludgate and Gavin Mitchell. It is directed and produced by Marilyn Imrie of Bona Broadcasting.

Me as Marshall.

It's available on BBC iPlayer for one week after.

Go Kibble!
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes

Tonight!

I'm Emceeing at the Baltasound Hall gig tonight with Havana Swing. Pics to follow. x.

Why I Committed Cybercide.

Here's me on Good Evening Shetland on BBC Radio Shetland recently as that weeks rent-an-opinion in their section The Week Hit's Awaa (the week that's just passed) woth a peice entitled Why I Committed Cybercide.

So that's: Why I Committed Cybercide on the The Week Hit's Awa' section of Good Evening Shetland on Radio Shetland by Radio Scotland for the BBC. 'Sake! For 3 and a half minutes.

Enjoy.

The Cow Whisperer

Because of the development of the crop rotation system ( incorporating grazing animals) we get a new beast oot the back every couple of days. This week: Cattle.
Meg- "Check that bunch a cows!"

ETA JAN 2010

See you next year.x.

Trivial Hirsute- Literary Edition.

It’s time for the big summer shave so this year I’ve turned it into a quiz!

See if you can guess the novelist, dramatist or biographer by the arrangement of my facial hair. 10 points for a correct answer, 5 points for a nearly. Put your answers in the comments box and I will publish the results once a sufficient amount of people has entered.

Good luck!

1.

2.3.


4.
5.
6.7.

8.

More Bus Stop

Here is my good lady wife waiting for the 7.55 to Lerwick at the newly empinkened Unst Bus Shelter.

Like J-Lo we have a troop of minions on standby to redecorate the shelter whenever they are informed Caroline is coming.

Then when I arrive they have to re-do the whole thing.

A Tale Of Two Sandys (and a Martha and a Tom and an Elaine. And a dug called Culain)

This week we were visited by journalist, broadcaster, musician, thriller writer, bread maker, chicken breeder and biker Tom Morton and gang including my old mate...wait for it... Sandy Nelson. Yes! The guy with me in the pic below is called Sandy Nelson! He's taller than me, 10 years younger, better looking and a doctor. We are like Schwarzenegger and De Vito in Twins.(l-r: Martha, Sandy, Sandy, Elaine.)

We stopped off here and there, me showing them the sites of Unst, including the Northern Lights Bistro which was closed. At 1pm-lunchtime. On a public holiday. On a Scottish Isle. During tourist season. Now, I'm no Duncan Fannytyne or Theo Clitoris but even an arty farty treehugger like me can see that this makes no fucking business sense whatsoever.

Anyroad, the big thing is that the Bus Shelter has had a makeover! Last year it was Baby Blue. This season it's pink to make the boys wa..er..wink.


Aw. Gorgeous!

(photies shamelesly ripped from Tom Mortons Beatcroft)

I'm Sandy, Fly Me.

Canny believe I haven't told yuz about this yet. Happened a couple of months ago.

Now that I am away up here in the great wilderness 30 miles short of the Argtic circle my traveling expenses to work are a little painful. When I go to work in Glasgovia for instance it's: bus-ferry-bus-ferry-bus-foot-bus-flight-bus-train. And back.
(the first ferry is free and the second one is included in the bus fair so canny really hark aboot that. Still. Ooyah!)

So a cuppla months ago I'm coming out of departures at Glasgow Airport and I see two Arriva Glasgow Flyer busses. I only need one.

As I stand there gormlessly wondering which bus to get on some suit collers me and says, "Excuse me, are you getting on this bus?"
"Yes," sez I, "but I'm not sure which one to get."
The suit points to the one on the right and sez, "It's that one. Congratulations. You are our ONE MILLIONTH CUSTOMER!"

As I stand there eyebrow raised Spock style trying to comprehend this Oor Wullie storyline that unfolds before me, other eye looking out for Dom Joly, a wee crowd of semi suits start chattering "Ooh! Is that him? There he is! He's the one" (the closest I'll get to being Jesus.)

Next thing I know I am surrounded by them cameras flashing, champaign, chocolates and low quality Arriva promotional items being thrust into my hands.

While I stand there wrestling with the possibilities of my agent and showbiz mates crawing, "That fanny will do anything for publicity," against free sweeties and booze the suit says, "Here's a pass for a years free travel on the Airport Flyer."

That's £120 in old money.

So, as you can imagine I said, "Well I never had a reputation to speak of anyway. Festoon away."
The pass was passed over with four vouchers to the Free Booze Lounge (don't know what it's official name is but I think Free Booze Lounge covers the idea.)

Carbon fitprint through the fuckin' flerr.

Arrochar-Flat For Sale

Sorry for using my blog for this but well...

We have a wee one bedroom flat for sale in beautiful Arrochar.

50 mins to Glasgow by car. Pleasant train journey to and from Glasgow three times a day. Council tax lower and air clearer than Glasgow.

Go on! Live a little!
Get in touch if you know emdy interested.

Living room

Kitchen with big Belfast sink.

Bedroom with original stone wall.

Designer bathroom with cast iron bath as designed and built by GSA alumnus Caroline McMurtrie of Elements Eternal.

Arrochar from the foot of The Cobbler.

Read, look, listen, think, tidy up, write, speak.

Sorry there's been no blogging of late. I'd been putting all of my creative energy into the final draft of the new BBC Radio Scotland situation comedy pilot Marshalls Misdemeanours which was being re-written right up until and during the recording last Tuesday. I was lucky enought to have an amazing cast of actors and a most generous and understanding director. It is due for broadcast whenever those who decide these kind of things decide. To. Broadcast it.

Then once I got back to Unst I realised I had a full TWO FULLWEEKS where I didn't have to get on a ferry to anywhere at all. That never happens! So I thought I'd just read, think and tidy up and hug my wife for a while. And watch a lot of Gilmore Girls.


But now it's back to writing and the virtual brown envelope posting. The McLellan Award for a play in the Scots language is calling for entries again so I think this year I'll punt something in there. Then there's my supernatural family drama sitcom to redraft and a synopsis for a feature I'm writing with an undisclosed writing partner. As well as all that I'm finishing off a second act to my hit one act plat Metrosexual.

David McGowan and Danielle Stewart in Metrosexual at Oran Mor April 2007.

So, now that the fire festival season is over ( more pics later) it's heed doon and batter at he keys. Some of you may have noticed I did a Reggie Perrin on Facebook, ie: faked cybercide and restarted. That's 'cos I get addicted to that shit. So if you see me on Facebook or writing this blog it means I totally "procrastubating." and I need to be told to "Get Back To Work!" All nagging graciously accepted.

Will let you know when Marshalls Misdemeanors is on and Metrosexual is out.
S.x.

Uyeasound Up Helly Aa

Photos by Lucy Hargreves.

All the different guizer squads muster at The Galley Shed around 7.30pm.


After the Guizer Jarl's Squad hand out the drinks we all grab a torch each.
Guess which ones me and which ones Caroline.

Then we march off into the crisp winter night towards the galley.
Once gathered around the galley the torches are tossed in.
(note the sheilds, of the rugby six nations flags, as painted by Caroline and her pupils.)
...and up it goes!
The bottle is passed around.

And a Viking gets a happy ending.
What happens next is all the squads go to the village hall where they in turn perform a viciously satirical sketch based some recent goings on in the community. Fights have broken out over it.

Our sketch went down well. I did, however, nearly get into a fight when I pissed in the sink in the gents and a guy went mental in an Eastern European accent and started pushing me around. Must be frowned upon over there. Then again we don't oppress Jews, so one mans poison and all that.

After the sketches it's Shetland Come Dancing!


A splendid time was had by all. Hoorah!

Only two more Fire Festivals to go. Norwick then Hillswick.

S.x.

An Ordinary Friday Night in Unst.

A little teaser of what's to come.

What be this sorcery?

More to be revealed in the next post!

Astérix & The Multi National Corporation

Bonjour,

Here is an article wot I recently wrote about the goings on in the world of Astérix The Gaul.

Astérix and the Multi-National Publishing Company.

By Sandy Nelson

While 2009 sees literary heavy weights celebrate their anniversaries- Burns, Darwin, Douglas Adams (Hitch-hikers Guide To the Galaxy is 30 years old) - a little Gaulish village celebrates an anniversary of its own.

Armorica, the fictional setting of the Astérix series of comic books by writer Rene Goscinny and illustrator Albert Uderzo, has been holding out against the Romans for 50 years this year.

Since Astérix The Gaul was first published in 1959 our indominatable little villager and his invincible friend Obelix have kicked, punched and plotted their way through 33 books and numerous films defending their village from invasion and exploitation by Caesars huge Roman Empire in the spirit of liberté, egalité & fraternité

So, is there any hypocrisy in that Uderzo, 81, sole writer and illustrator of the series since his partners death in 1977, last month sold controlling interest of Les Editions Albert Rene, the family publishing firm ( including the right to produce new Astérix adventures after his death) to Hachette Livre, Frances largest publishing company? Yes, according to Uderzo’s daughter Sylvie Uderzo.

“Astérix is my paper brother” She told Le Monde on January 15^th, “It is as if the gates of the Gaulish village had been thrown open to the Roman Empire. I am entering resistance against perhaps the worst enemies of Astérix, the men of finance and industry.” She added “[The deal] denies the values with which my father brought me up: independence, brotherhood, friendship and resistance.”

While they may be some sour grapes involved here, (Uderzo Jr. was fired from her position as managing director by Uderzo Snr. two tears ago,) she’s does have an exceptionally valid point.

In the book The Mansions of The Gods, for instance, Astérix and his cohorts formulate and carry out plans to prevent Roman property developers from tearing down the bountiful forest to build overpriced luxury flats using the kind of direct action that would make any Terminal 5 protester blush. In Astérix The Gladiator our hero goes positively mental when the Romans kidnap the village bard Cacophonix to be used to entertain the elite in Rome. The strength of Astérix’s loyalty to his friend pushes him to do things he has never done before, like a pre-Christian Jack Bauer. And Obelix and Co is a blatant attack on consumerism with Astérix hurt and angry when his best friend is cursed by greed. That doesn’t sound like the kind of character who would appreciate being sold off, franchised and potentially remodelled and overly merchandised.

The Astérix books began being printed in English in 1970. I have been reading them since 1975 when I learned to read. No matter how old you are you can open one up and find great pleasures. For the child there is the colour and action of the punch-ups and feasts. For the teenager there is clever wordplay, exotic locations and rich history to inspire your “doing Europe” dreams. For the adult there is the satire and social commentary. And all the way through there is a very obvious and very French sense of justice, resistance, and social responsibility. Some talk of the series being an allegory for French resistance against the Nazi’s during the Second World War. Others have theorised about its statements on the dangers of American economic imperialism, even up to the most recent book, 2005’s Astérix & the Falling Sky. Would the new authors, under the thumb of a multi-national, be allowed the freedom to make such overtly political statements in their stories?

Rene Uderzo said that he had placed Astérix in safe hands so that he could concentrate on writing and illustrating new adventures. His daughter, who still owns 40% of the company, however, claims her father has been influenced by “a handful of shadowy advisers.”

Last weekend he hit back saying , "To be accused by my own daughter, is already quite undignified," continuing, "The accusation made against me is not only inspired by the appetite for power, it also aims to insult Astérix readers by confusing my abilities as an author with that of a publishing house shareholder.”

I can’t help thinking of Astérix & the Roman Agent or Astérix & the Soothsayer where the villagers are manipulated by gossip and superstition into almost destroying themselves from within. Ironic? Appropriate?

So where does this leave us? The fans. The people who have read and re-read the books, who have bought the games and visited the theme park. They ones who will buy the 50^th anniversary book when it is published in October. Should we worry? It was difficult enough to accept the post Goscinny books in the first place. As Peter Kessler, the author of The Complete Guide to Astérix, told The Guardian: “The problem is that Uderzo never really understood what had been created in Astérix. He hasn’t been able to cope with the endless reinvention that a series needs to remain great. And so he has fallen back on repetition and silliness.” Ouch!

In Uderzo’s defence though, he was the artist not the writer. But what an artist! How can we, the loyal fans, trust that these new artists will be able to keep the flare and subtleties of his iconic drawings? Are we now looking forward to substandard, standardised lowest common denominator stories drawn by numbers? Or will it be like Russell T Davies’s Doctor Who, all fanboys at the helm resorting former glories? Anne Goscinny, daughter of Albert, is not worried.

“Astérix is a very strong character.” She said “Astérix will guide those who take him in hand and not the other way around. I am very confident and I do not worry at all that he will be watered down.”

Let us hope so. And let us hope too that the Uderzo’s work it out in the spirit of the classic stories. As Astérix himself says to Getafix the Druid in The Mansions of the Gods as their village is becoming gentrified though outside influence, “Look how our village has changed, Getafix, the wonderful spirit of co-operation we used to have has disappeared...but I have a plan.”

Lerwick Up Helly Aa!

The last Tuesday in January- Up Helly Aa!

I had grown my beard all big and Vikingy and headed off to Lerwick.


The strangely fascisty looking black crow flag is hoist above Lerwick Town Hall. As evening descends the street lamps are flipped off and the town is plunged into darkness . Then at 7.30pm -Whoosh! The Light Up! Up go the torches. To reveal... The Guizer Squads lined up and ready to go. They stand to attention waiting to follow the Guizer Jarl and his Jarl Squad, resplendent in Viking attire.And here come the girls...Hundreds of hairy arsed Shetlanders dressed up a women, giving the night the subtitle, Transvestite Tuesday. (It's a male only thing. That's the only pish thing about it.)

They march in their thousands around the square.The Galley Boys drag the galley...

They drag the galley into the centre of the park... Then they set fire to it!

(No photots of that, though. I'm from Glasgow. I've seen vehicles on fire before.)

It was a stunning procession.

I then went off to the Garrison Theatre where I hosted Stand Up Helly Aa, an evening of Shetland comedians. Everybody laughed. Braw!

The following morning...
Enough said.

Orca The Jaiket Haudin Whale.

This wee Killer Whale managed to escape the rabid blood thirst of the Norwegian whaler and is now lounging in Tresta Bay off the coast of Fetlar.

Good for you, Orca. The Great Escape plan is working.

Whaling under fire as Norway catches only 50% of its quota From The Guardian.

Fire Festival Fun

About a month after I moved up here I was back down in Glasgovia doing a gig with Hilarious comedy sketch group You Owe Me Glue at The Stand.

While there I was telling my good friend and colleague Limmy about my new life up here in Unst. In his wisdom he enquired, "Have you thought, eh...don't take this the wrang wiy, but have you thought about, like, taking oor the place?"

Well it's coming to fruition! Here is the first major offensive: Stand Up Helly Aa! Every year on the last Tuesday of January (for some reason) Lerwick hosts Up Helly Aa, the biggest fire festival in europe to greet the return of the Sun. It's the most important date on the Shetland calander. And what have they got me doing? Standing in a drafty theatre taking this piss out of the whole thing.

Actually, I will leave the piss taking to the thre Shetlanders on stage. I mean I know I used a bit of battle talk and that but, fukkit, I want more work so I should go easy.

Uch who the fuck am I kidding. I'm a cheeky wee basturt. But as the great recently departed master wordsmith John Mortimer said:

" A life during which you are caused no offence would be as blandly uneventful as death itself."

So here we go.x.