Nordic Exposure

2010-07-09T12:33:00.000-07:00

Hej Kids,

Here's my latest article from Shetland Life Magazine:

I recently took the long road from Unst to sample the Flavour of Shetland festival at the pier in Lerwick. It turns out the flavour of Shetland is paella and strawberry waffles (not in the same dish). That and Chinese food seemed to be the most popular dishes on offer. There was a little bit of Shetlandic fare there in the form of a bannock-making exercise and one local butcher, but apart from that not much else of a Nordic hue.

Of course we all know that this festival, like all the others, is just another apparatus for merrymaking. There was no slouching in putting the entertainment tent together and I was there in my capacity as Shetland’s comedian in residence. As I was contracted by Shetland Islands Council that day I didn’t actually tell any jokes, I just promised the delivery of jokes with a guarantee that while some people will be left bemused, the majority of Shetlanders would find the jokes funny. I would then put the reactions to that statement under review and pay for an expensive consultancy to come in and analyse the data to help me work out which particular joke I should tell to the public and in what style. Taxpayers can expect delivery of the gag by March 2012.

As is usual with a Shetland festival the entertainment was of exceptionally high quality. And the paella indeed was mighty fine. In fact in the two years I have lived in Shetland I have never eaten so well. One night my wife and I had an entire meal all of which came from Shetland, most of which came from our own village. The fish was a gift from a neighbour who had caught it that morning. It was dressed in bread crumbs from the Skibhoul bakery’s bread and eggs from another neighbour’s chickens. The veggies came from the Unst Regeneration Project and the rhubarb for the crumble came from our own garden. And as is de rigueur it was all washed down with “Sonny’s Beer.” (That’s Valhalla Brewery beer to you.)

I am quite the amateur gourmet as it happens. As an actor, writer and comedian of some twenty years I have, as you can imagine, worked in a lot of kitchens: it is the staple fall back position of any serious artist interested in eating or paying rent. In my time at the stove of many a hostelry I have learned a few things about how to produce quality dinners cheaply and quickly. As a house husband with a six-month old and a working wife I have never felt that experience to be as valuable as I do now – wife home, dinner out, wean bathed, bed. Well that’s the theory but with the regular power cuts on the all-electric isle of Unst it doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes it’s more like-wife home, camping stove out the cupboard, beans for tea, wean swabbed down with wet wipes, bed.

Being a couple of progressive hippy types my wife and I are hoping to avoid any off-the-shelf processed foods and feed the peerie man the same meal we are having. The new regime is revitalising my interest in creating lovely grub. It took a while to get it right – I don’t know if you have ever tried to puree a sassermaet roll but it’s not too easy or appetising. However my culinary juices are flowing. If we are having chilli con carne he gets mince, tomato juice and baby rice; for haggis, tatties and neeps he gets the tatties, the neeps and a mash up of various greens with baby porridge; pizza for us? Mashed tomato, peppers and mushrooms with pizza crust for baby. And for spaghetti bolognaise, just take a generous spoonful off your own plate and buzz it with some of mother’s milk. Bellisimo!

As well as the nutritional value of such a practice the idea is that as life goes on your offspring will get used to the idea that you all sit around the table eating the same thing and you don’t end up with the whiney wean whinging “Ah don’t like that!” every time anything vaguely natural or healthy gets put under their petulant little noses.

So I have my idea for next year – the Flavour o’ Peerie Shetland. You come to my stall straight from the shops with the bag of ingredients for tonight’s tea and I construct a dish for your little one out of what you already have in the bag. No more overpriced jars of bib-staining mush. And if all the ingredients you give me are from Shetland, all the better. I know we are onto a winner.

It’ll definitely be far more successful than my stand-up routine was this year.

Sandy Nelson

Facelift!

2010-06-18T02:32:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my new refurbished Blog.

The first peice of news is that The Bus Stops Bright, The Bustops Orange!

Once again Jane McAuley and family have brightened up the usual miserable experience of waiting in a bus. As you can see the cushions display a little African art footballing motif in honour of the World Cup in South Africa (or more likely they were the only orange cushion covers the McAuleys had kicking around their attic.)

Check out previous years' makeovers:

Think Pink!

Blue Period.
Vincent was 'ear (geddit?)

Disco disco disco disco!

Back In The U.N.S.T.

2010-04-09T02:58:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since my last post. My time has been taken up with this guy... ...and lots of trips down south for work. (No paternity leave in showbusiness, folks.) Bloody murder! For his first three months I've been the semi-absentee father, coming back after every other week to find he has developed all these wee routines and quirks that I must automatically understnad and respond too and I now sit panicking and clueless as his mum goes back to work. Time to roll my sleeves up.

So here's my latest Column from Shetland Life to be getting on with. I promise to be more prolific fae noo oan. S.x.

Nelsons Column.

With all the talking points of contemporary Shetland life, whether it be the debates on wind farms, the blue print for education and Dave Clark, or the arrival of Tesco, Mareel and Simon King, the most significant thing to happen to Shetland since Sullom Voe was built has gone unnoticed: Sumburgh Airport now has a cappuccino machine! Yes, I know that’s a typical metrocentric incomer attitude to have but for us ex-city kids the cappuccino is our reestit mutton bannock. We can’t start the day without one. And as a frequent flyer I always felt something missing from my sitting-around-waiting-for-a-boarding-call experience.

And a good cappuccino is hard to come by. No disrespect to the staff at Sumburgh but you’ll find a cappuccino machine is a temperamental, fickle, moody thing that even a Krypton Factor finalist would take a while to learn how to control. And the recipe is often up for debate. As far as I’m concerned it’s double espresso + foamed milk + choccy topping = cappuccino. Too much steamed milk and it becomes a Latte. Blend the foamed milk and steamed milk into a silky texture and it becomes a Flat White.

Sumburgh already has everything else you need (snacks, bar, toilets, newsagent, bairns bit, News 24) so once they have mastered “The Devils Cup” it will become, for my money, the best airport in the world.

Honestly. In my travels I have been through 30 odd airports in Europe, North America and Asia. Sumburgh is the most comfortable and welcoming. In addition to the qualities listed above it is always a quick, easy check in, a simple passage on and off the plane, and the most breath taking scenery on take off and landing. I still get a thrill on every landing. Every single time I find my internal dialogue muttering, “We’re only 20 feet from landing! Why is there still water below us?” Then the runway suddenly appears like magic as if Odin’s mechanic has just slid his trolley beneath us.

Up until the Java generator arrived, the most significant thing that set Sumburgh apart from other UK airport is that no-one is trying to sell you anything. Most UK airports these days look like shopping centres with seats in the middle. In fact, the very same week that ex-first minister Jack McConnell was making his G8 summit-related speech on how Scotland’s youth were being made subject of a wasteful consumer society, Prestwick airport finished it’s refurbishment so that you HAD TO walk through duty free to get to your plane. It turns out they are all like that. Gatwick has a food court upstairs just like any generic glass roofed consumer trap. On the information screens at Nottingham East Midlands the phrase “Wait In Lounge” has been replaced by “Relax and Shop.” No pressure.

We will all remember through the noughties when pairs of salt-of-the-earth women would follow you along the concourse, bullying you with questions about your income and outgoings, persuading you that if you didn’t have a credit card you were some kind of archaic luddite without a clue about modern living. They are still there but they at least bully you into giving to charity these days.

And it’s not just the airports. Go into your bank these days and while you are boringly paying in a cheque and thinking about the rest of your day you are being interrupted by a list of personal questions leading up to selling you a mortgage or loan by an ordinary frontline worker who has been instructed by invisible management to do so. Try buying a magazine and a bottle of water at WH Smith without being told that you’ll get a giant bar of Galaxy and a bag of Haribo half price with your purchase (which would be a bargain if you actually wanted it).

Things got silly just the other day as I sat in the morning holding my cappuccino (homemade) in one hand and rocking my new born baby in his rocker with the other. I received a “courtesy call” from my bank. They weren’t selling me anything they assured me. They just wanted to make sure they had all my updated details and that they were providing me with the best service possible. On hearing of our new bundle of joy they asked if I knew about the new Scottish Governments trust fund scheme. I told them I had and was already looking into it. They then proceeded to punt various deals to me. Now, it’s not my name on the trust fund policy. It’s my son’s. The poor little guy is only nine weeks old and already someone is trying to sell him something. How sinister is that?

The only thing I want someone selling me, or my family, is a decent cup of coffee.

Sandy Nelson

2010-01-29T01:30:00.000-08:00

Here's my latest colum from Shetland Life magazine. Just to fill you in on the local context, the cooncil have introduced this thing called "Blue Print For Education" which assesses the viability of schools. It's been quite controversial. Any road up, here.

As I write this in mid December it is around about that time when tabloid newspapers start to bang on about Christmas Scrooges: offices that ban decorations because of health and safety, city councils who won’t put up Christmas lights in case it offends other religions (they mean Muslims) and schools who cancel the nativity for the same reason. I know some people are a little over zealous in their misinterpretation of political correctness, but if you are an inner city school with an equal pupilship of Christians, Jews, Muslims, atheists and whatever else then why should you simply have Christmas when you have Chanukah, Aashura, and winter solstice vying for attention?
We all know, too, that a lot of these management decisions are often personal decisions dressed up. Let’s say Teacher A and Teacher B don’t get on. Teacher A wants a nativity. The more senior Teacher B says no but can’t say “it’s ‘cos I don’t like Teacher A” so she says “it’s offensive to other religions.” Or maybe the head is just a total skinflint, or didn’t get that bike he wanted when he was ten and so is taking it out on the world. And lets’ face it, Christmas is not compulsory. People don’t care what is being observed. They just want to see their kids on stage.

For instance, up here in Unst, Baltasound Junior High is putting on Bugsy Malone as its Christmas show this year. No shepherds, wise men, mangers, gold, frankincense or myrrh in sight. In fact, in this day and age I’d say that a show about a bunch of dolled up wise guys ‘n’ gals swigging gin, dancing and fighting is a far more prescient way to celebrate the holiday season. Every pupil in the school gets involved, whether singing, dancing, acting, set building, stage managing or playing an instrument. And don’t worry, you won’t see “Rotundly Challenged Sam”, it’s Fat Sam, fair and square. The teachers and pupils at BJH are intelligent enough to know there is a difference between referring to a fictional 1920s character as fat and just walking into a class and shouting “Oi fatty!” at the heavily built kid.

As a writer, actor and expectant parent I am over the moon that the local school has such an enthusiasm for the arts. By the time you read this there is a good chance that my first child will have arrived in to this world. He/she will be born in Paisley, where my wife’s family live, but we have promised Sylvia, local registrar, that we will bring the wee thing back in time to be registered in Unst. My wife is the art teacher at BJH and when she arrived for the interview in summer 2008 she fell in love with Unst. But not just Unst. It was the school itself, and the art room with its kiln and plenty of natural light. It was Maggi and Ann and Ruth and the poly tunnels full of fruit and veg grown and attended by the kids. It was Mr McConnell and the way he championed technical for girls and had the pupils build picnic tables for the nursery school.

Pretty soon after we moved into Baltasound we fell in love too with the community. We loved the support we got from all of our neighbours, with their home grown veg, fresh eggs and locally caught fish; the local musicians with their concert nights at the hall; the fundraisers for the youth club, school sailing trips to Norway and nursery school gym equipment.

So much activity revolves around the school. I am currently involved with Unst Audio, a group dedicated to preserving Unst’s musical culture, which operates out of the “Big Jangly Hut”, a building separate from the main school – perfect for drum students – and the best equipped music department I’ve ever seen. My wife runs the jewellery classes on Tuesday nights – one of the most overly subscribed and best attended courses in all of Adult Learning. Every year the pupils design, build and paint the galley shields for the Uyeasound and Norwick Up Helly A’s.

When you add it all up you realise that the school is the community. It is the sole reason we repopulated Unst to the tune of three. When my wife and I saw how confident, open minded and mutually supportive the kids were at BJH and how they grow up into well rounded high achieving adults, we knew we wanted our children to grow up in this particular community and attend that particular school – eco-friendly, community-driven, high-achieving: it’s as perfect a school as you can get.

That’s if it stays open, of course. But what kind of moron would want to close down a school like that?

Life in The Craft Lane

2009-12-09T01:39:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-18T02:33:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-01T05:07:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-09-18T01:54:00.000-07:00

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

Why I Committed Cybercide.

2009-08-27T09:33:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-21T07:53:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-21T07:47:00.000-07:00

See you next year.x.

Trivial Hirsute- Literary Edition.

2009-06-17T02:31:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-09T01:49:00.000-07:00

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)

2009-05-28T03:38:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-05-21T02:26:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-13T08:09:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-03-14T09:35:00.000-07:00

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

2009-02-24T03:19:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-02-19T01:40:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-16T05:48:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-01-29T09:53:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-01-20T04:25:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-19T02:47:00.000-08:00

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.

The Sight of Sound

2009-01-15T07:25:00.000-08:00

My big mate and new comedy colleague Les Sinclair has posted photies on his blog from last years event, Stand Up@ Sound, at the Sound Hall, Lerwick.

Click da link Muckle Viking for the the gallery.

Nice pic of me looking like I've just been violated by a horny trow. (That's a troll to you Soothmoothers.)

The Auld Rock Rocks.

2009-01-15T07:19:00.000-08:00

Apparently there was an earthquake in Shetland this morning. News tae me. I was in my kip snoozing like a peerie bairny.

Click da link

Shetland Earth Quake. BBC News

Stand Up Helly Aa

2009-01-11T06:39:00.000-08:00

On the 27th of this month Lerwick plays host to Up Helly Aa, the biggest fire festival in europe. On this night, also known as Transvestite Tuesday (it falls on the last Tuesday of January and their is a lot of cross dressing-more later) i will be hosting a comedy show at The Garrison Theatre called "Stand Up Helly Aa" (see what I did there) an irreverent and alternative look at the festival.

I'll post more about this later but click the link to the vid below to get a small taster. Nothing much has changed since. (Thanks to Mick for sending me this.)

Vikings Of Shetland

You can take the boy...

2009-01-08T03:48:00.000-08:00

I may have been a little too sarcy in my last post( yeah, like you can be TOO sarcy ) in my opinion of my hame toon of Glasgow. So here's wee list of the things I actually miss, accepting that family and friends is a given.

1. Curry- I've tasted curry in Glasgow, Manchester, Birmingham, Cardiff, Leicester, Nottingham, London, Bristol, Southampton , Portsmouth, Lerwick, Stockholm and Jakarta. Glasgow is the best.

2. Libraries- Lovely old municipal libraries like Partick and Maryhill and the Mitchell. Playgrounds for the mind of any age clasped in beautiful achitechture.

3. Salandinis Traditional Italian Barber Shop- Tucked away on that wee bit of West Princess St near Kelvinbridge Underground, Luigi and his son Antonio cut your hair, shave your chin and read your mind with Scicilian flair over espresso.

4. Swanning Up and Down That Byres Road Thinking Ahm Sumthin Ahm Urny- Where better than Byres Roads MILLION coffee shops to indulge your delusions of grandeur, waving at mini celebs you hardly know and paying a fucking fortune for no' bad coffee while working on your screenplay.

5. Lounge!- Glasgow would be sadder place without the likes of Mark Robb, Nick Peacock and the rest spinning the jazz, latino, lounge, easy and funk. When I set up "The North Lounge" in Unst I will invite them up on an arts council grant.

So, while I do love my new life up here in the wilderness with all the wonderful things it has to offer, I do miss some bits of Glasgovian life. It's worth it though. I can still indulge when I go down for gigs. A random Glasgow day would be:
GOMA Library; Offshore Coffee Shop; Luigi's for a shave; Byres Road/FOPP/Oxfam/more coffee etc; do my gig; mibby a late pint at The Woody if it's on or a curry.

Then it's back to the peace, quiet and eating of Unst. So while I'm glad to see the back of The City of Bams I do miss those little things.

The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse.

2009-01-05T13:05:00.000-08:00

That'll be yer 2009 started then! Happy New Year to yuz all.

Most of my December was down in Glasgow where it was great to catch up with lots of friends and colleagues and enjoy their hilarious jokes about Shetland being an inbred buttfuck backwater. Ha ha. Yes. Funny.

The Western Isles are 200 miles that way, mate. (points south west.) Don't get us mixed up.

It's all back to work this week, so while you're looking at this on your way back from the office:

I'll be looking at this on the way back from mine:

Enjoy your cappuccino at 3 in the morning, darlings. And your heroin.

Love,
Wee Scandi.x.

Allelujah!

2008-12-30T07:10:00.000-08:00

That's me back in Unst after a month of tearing up 'n' down Airstrip One shaking my white ass for works nights out. During this time I had few notable experiences. Only really the RTD stalking of the previous post and an enlightening little gay date out to IKEA with my pretty blonde posh chum Neil.

During our "man-date" I went to releive my self in the "toaletter" when I was suddenly overcome by the love of our lord Jesus Christ.

He appeared to me in a piece of saw milled Swedish elm.

Well, of course, I had to go back and wash my hands.

He wished me a commerce free Saturnalia, I wished him a happy official birthday and went about my cushion admiring business.

Hoppas ditt 2009 ár mycket bra!

S.x.

RTD! OMG!!!

2008-12-10T05:47:00.000-08:00

This week I’ve left the fun, wind and drink of The Auld Rock and come down to visit our celtic brothers in Cardiff.

I am wandering through Cardiff Bay with top bog-trotting comic and Doctor Who Fan extraordinaire Johnny Candon, spouting crap about Torchwood as if I know what I’m talking about when Johnny goes “Oh. Look.”

-And who is sitting there at a wee cafe reading his paper and smoking a fag?-

-None other than the great man himself Russell T Davis! Recent Úberlord of all things Whovian!

And of course, Queer As Folk- the programme that made it ok for straight blokes to have gay mates. Not the intention of the show, but a nice by-product (or bi-curios-product, if you will)

Well, it takes us five minutes of saying things like “What if he tells us to fuck off? I couldn’t recover,” and so on to each other but we finally go and do the shakey hand thing.

Loveliest bloke in the world! No kidding. A pleasure. AND it's my birthday. What a gift? I thanked him for inspiring and entertaining me with his book The Writers Tale, a pressie from my wife which I’m reading just now, and told him in a voice like a teenager in the midst of dropping his balls “I’m a writer too!” Yeah, I know. A bit pathetic. But his book says you have to be bold and just go for it! Put yerself about a bit. So it’s his own fault.

Honestly, though. Nicest guy you could meet.

And of course we get the photo. Check out below this fabulous image of tri-celtic, sci-fi homo-erotica (or two sadcase, fanboys pushing 40, pestering a hard working man who is just trying to have a fucking coffee break.)

Up Helly Ha Ha.

2008-11-27T03:42:00.000-08:00

Last friday saw the graduation night of the Shetland Adult Learning Stand Up Comedy & Public Speaking course, taught by my very good self over the past cuppla months. Sold Oot! They came out to The Sound Hall, Lerwick in their droves (well, 60 capacity) through a snowy blizzard (True. Check the vid below and previous posts for the weather report,) and laughed into the night.

All my nervous little stooges delivered wonderful routines. I felt like a proud father watching them generate, command and respect the laughter. Not just funny but proffesional too.

With any luck this will be the prototype for The Shetland Comedy Club and we will see more of the same happen, with professionals from the mainland and locals.

Now check out dis widdar!

Dog Bites Fish.

2008-11-25T05:39:00.001-08:00

Hungry dug? Gie her a fish!

(Model: Tess, the dug next door and a random cod.)

"Da winters are nearly as bad as da simmers..."

2008-11-24T09:35:00.000-08:00

Well that's the winter well proper started in Shetland. Check oot ma back windae!

And check ma bike!
That wilny be goin' anywhere for a while. Not that it went far anyway. Shops and back mostly. And look, this is the south side of the lovely village of Voe halfway up the mainland.
The word Voe is auld Norse for "a big long bay", whereas the word Wick, as in Norwick means "a big open bay" like the kind of bay we might call a bay.

And here's me in my daft hat posing against a snowy Lerwick backdrop
I know it's a daft hat but I'm a Norrlander now. Okay, mibby if I swanned down Byres Road with it on, yes, I'd be one of those tits that swans down Byres Road in a daft hat (much like I was when I lived there) but now I live 30 miles south of the artic cirlce so it would be daft if I DIDN'T wear one.
As you can see I'm very pleased with it. At first I had the black yin, but then my wifey said, "Oh aye, nice bunnet. I'll be havin' that." So now I have the the browning version. Dead waarm!

Safe as Houses.

2008-11-05T03:09:00.000-08:00

Anybody want to buy this?
It's former military base RAF Saxavord, now Saxavord Hotel and Resort in the north of Unst, frequented by archaeologists, ornithologists and folk just wanting a remote piss up location with lots of fresh air and coastal walking.
It was originally a strategic outpost for watching the Ruskies during the height of the cold war. Built to withstand a nuclear holocaust. As you can see it already looks a bit post-apocalyptic. But after the curtain came down and Russia was a mate again it became superflous and was sold as a leisure complex.
Well, now it's up for sale and it's yours for a cool 8 mill.

And get this! On the same day that this guy makes history:
This guy: ...Russian President Dimitry Medvedev, in his first state-of-the-nation speech, blames the United States foreign policy for the recent conflict in Georgia. He's sticking some nukes in Kalliningrad right next door to the USA's Polish ones.

So once that all flares up again you'll be in the safest place in the world.
Now there's a marketing strategy!

Walpurgisnacht!

2008-11-01T14:35:00.000-07:00

Guising is pretty big up here. Taken very seriously indeed. So we had to pull out the big guns.

Disco Bride Of Frankenstein.

Deady Boy.

Eternal Riddle

2008-10-29T09:15:00.000-07:00

I've been a comic for 10 years and I still can't tell you why this happens.

O' a' the airts...

2008-10-26T13:11:00.000-07:00

Check the wind up here, byrawy. That's the whirlygig in my back rotating as if by it's own volition! Jeez-o!

Living the High (winds) Life.

2008-10-24T05:08:00.000-07:00

Caroline and I went down to Lerwick yesterday where I was teaching stand up comedy to adults and she was teaching jewellery making to "at risk" youth. We powered up the road on the the mainland to our first ferry, 9pm at Toft. "Service Cancelled Due to High Winds. BUGGER!
We only know two folk on the mainland- Tom: didin't have his number- Jacquie: She was outatown.
So we parked up at the waiting room near the bogs, 'cos we're resourceful n'at, and settled down to sleep in the car. Meg wisney best pleased. Caroline had bought halloween cakes for her pupils so we pulled the cakes out of the message bags and had them for supper. Bugger them.

I had last weeks Merlin in my BBCi folder on my laptop (screw you, I like it) so we watched that. Yeah, great idea. Sitting in the dark in the middle of nowhere in howling wind and heavy rain battering on the roof watching a programme about medevil witchcraft.

Then there was a flash of light. And another. What's this? Christ! A ferry has arrived! it was only the 9pm and 10pm that were cancelled. By 11pm the wind was low and the LAST ferry was running! We got our shit together and raced down to the barrier only to see the boat shove off. BUGGER!
I called the mobile number on the timetable. But instead of getting some random naebody in a Lerwick call centre we got the captain of the ferry! And cutting this long story slightly shorter he shouts "Boys! Turn around!" So this enormous car ferry turns on hull and comes back just for us. We get on our chauffeur driven boat and relax a little.

Caroline and Meg look after the car: While I relax in the lounge: "Thanks," we shout to the variably pissed off crew and drive up to the next ferry terminal where, of course the last ferry left an hour and a half ago. Oh aye, that's why we had to be on the 9pm from Toft. Oh well. Back to plan B. Await the morning ferry. Got home at 7am to an angry hungry cat.

Hameward Boond.

2008-10-22T09:22:00.000-07:00

SO! When I'm down in Glasgow I stay with my Mum & Dad ( cup of tea in the morning, piece on sausage, washing done, "phone if yer staying out all night!" and so on.) So here is my journey back to Baltasound as taken this week.

1. TRAIN Gilshochil- Queen Street. 13 mins
2. TRAIN Queen Street- Aberdeen. 2 1/2Hrs
3. FERRY Aberdeen- Lerwick. 12 hrs (overnight)
4. BUS Lerwick- Toft. 40 mins
5. FERRY Toft- Ulsta. 20mins
6. BUS Ulsta- Gutcher. 25 mins
7. FERRY Gutcher- Belmont. 10 mins
8. BUS Belmont- Baltasaound. 10 mins

An epic 22 hour adventure! The plane is more expensive and easier but also there is no bus, repeat, NO BUS to meet the plane from Glasgow. Are they trying to tell us something? So no plane unless I can get a lift.

HOWEVER, yesterday on the Shetland leg of my journey I cleverly fell asleep in the middle of Step 5, the Toft -Ulsta ferry. The night before I hadn't got to sleep till 1am and then some drunk tit came into his bunk (shared cabins like a floating youth hostel) at 3am and fannyed about for a while! Basterd! Ages to get back to sleep then up at 6.30 in a "bing-bong" hi-de-hi style "get-oot-yer-bed" announcement.

So asleep I fall on the middle-sized ferry waking up to see us docked at the isle of Yell with no idea how long we'd been there or if we were about to shove off again. I ran down just in time to have two deck hands point at me and laugh. Missed the bus. Fuct!

Luckily there were two cooncil lorries parked at the shop. I managed to hitch a lift from Lowrie, a workie from the North Mainland.

He was going to MY STREET! (well, the airstrip round the corner from my street.) He even gave me coffee and biscuits as we awaited the peerie (wee) ferry. Braw!

BTW, the way I found out there was no bus at Sumburgh to meet the Glasgow plane was by arriving at Sumburgh on the Glasgow plane and standing there like a pure diddy. Sumburgh is in the extreme south of the islands and I live in the extreme north. (see map A=Sumburgh Airport, B= My House .) If I'd waited for the next bus, 3 hours later, I would have missed ALL my connections home. Had to get a cab to Lerwick where the bus to Toft left 5 minutes early "as it normally does" I was informed by a helpful memeber of station staff. I hitched a lift from a council electrician. I told him I was off to the ferry to meet my wife who was at a workshop in the Bonhoga Gallery- so he took me there!

Not since I was a child have I had so much fun getting into cars with strange men.

Sasanach!

2008-10-16T06:01:00.000-07:00

Hej kids,

Sorry nae posts the noo. Have been in Glasgovia for the past forever doing gigs etc, so no Shetland titbits for yuz. Normal "sharwash" (that's "service" in a Lerwick accent) will resume soon as. In the meantime here's a picture of Muckle Flugga.

Noo DAT's Shetland Widdar!

2008-10-06T04:12:00.000-07:00

That was the phrase said to me on Saturday morning by my neighbour, Piffy. I'll tell you why. Remember this?

Lovely warm summer days days in Shetland wi coo's lazily grazing in the field ower the back.
Well after the storm on Friday night it became this:

And we are talking STORM here. Had to bring the bike in oot the garden or would have been swept away Wizard Of Oz style, grumpy school marm and all. (That wasn't a reference to Caroline, BTW.)

Time to bring out the underwater cows with snorkels and flippers.
S.x.

Trows & Vows.

2008-10-03T03:57:00.001-07:00

We were exposed to more local traditions with a wedding last weekend. The couple walked from the church to the local hall with fiddlers at the front, a guy shooting a rifle to scare away the 'trows' (trolls) followed by the bride n groom, the wedding party and the guests and at the back are the couple o guys with brooms sweeping to make sure evil didn't follow. Although plenty of spirits did flow pretty soon afterwards.

Shetland Johnny

2008-09-23T04:35:00.000-07:00

This is Mr Johnny Cash
Don't ask me why but he is EVERYWHERE in Shetland. On our first day day in Baltasound, that bizarre drinky experience blogged about here, it was Cash being blasted out the window from the old fidelity music centre in the neighbours living room.

When we went to the Unst Show it was Cash blareing out of the tannoy speakers interspersed with the usual diddley diddley folky stuff. AND at the concert that night one of the performers covered Falsom Prison Blues.

Turn on the local radio-Cash! Walk into a shop-Cash! By sheer coincidence the reknowned biopic Walk The Line was on the telly not long after we arrived just to remind us.

Why Cash? Why here? What's the connection? Whatever, it's not a problem. The boay's a legend.

I start teaching a course in Guitar Playing For Beginners at the local school tonight, so, aye, a wee bit of Cash in the mix I think. The heedie's wife is one of my pupils so I better be great.

S.x.

Night Boat To Belmont

2008-09-17T14:27:00.000-07:00

This is what the ferry will look like until about late March...

...what with the summer being over and all that.

That's the wee 10 minute ferry between Unst and Yell, not the bigger 20 minute one from Yell to the Mainland or the enormous 14 hour one from Lerwick to Aberdeen. What were we thinking?!?

Oh, ALL my wifes pics, like the one above, are at http://www.flickr.com/photos/artycaz/
Featuring arty shots like this one:

Shetland Life

2008-09-16T06:07:00.001-07:00

So that's me got myself an article printed in Shetlands monthly lifestyle magazine "Shetland Life."

It was printed alongside another article with a different viewpoint making me look like a right moany killjoy mofo.

But it has established me well in with the Shetland 'clit'eratti (ie: i'm a wee bit of a fanny. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

Anyway, here's the article.

As an actor, writer and comedian from Glasgow I am all too aware of the biggest marketplace for creative and artistic talent in the world.

While hundreds and I mean hundreds, of my colleagues, contemporaries and competitors are displaying their wares at this bizarre eastern bazaar I will be…moving to Shetland! I am now nearer Bergen than Edinburgh. No, I’m haven’t moved to the furthest Scottish postcode from Edinburgh as I can at this particular time of the year deliberately-it’s just a happy coincidence. With a change of career for both my wife and I (her, silversmith to art teacher; me, stand-up comic to writer) our move to Unst -the island above all others (a good gag in itself) could not have come at a better time for me.

Hate is a word I do not use lightly. I’ve often very snootily and pedantically chastised people for its inappropriate use, “What, you HATE carrots?” I will sneer, “I mean you actually hate them? Like you hate racism and cruelty and injustice? I mean actual hate?” So let me make it clear that when I say I hate the Edinburgh fringe festival, I actually HATE the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.

What was once and excellent breeding ground and melting pot for artists and entertainers- visual artists hooking up with bands, comedians acting in plays, politicians and novelists doing comedy shows- has become a cattle call for every opportunistic business minded wannabe to “play the system” and get their slot on whatever game show panel is being recruited for that week- self-censoring, dumbing down down, fawning over these designer clothed Londoners with the £200 haircut, fitting into their limited focus group focus

It’s all gotten a little too bloated and unattractive. You are not just an artist or entertainer anymore. You must also be a businessman, a producer, an advertising exec, a sportsman, an accountant AND a pretty face.

So I’m out. If that is what is required then I shall sit in my wee hut on my wee island with my laptop, satellite dish and fiber optic, creating my genius and flaunting my talents on the web. The internet may seem more competitive due to the sheer number of artists and entertainers using it to get their stuff out there, but everyone is equal. More money doesn’t get you more exposure. Having a ruthless big corporate agency doesn’t get you bigger promotion. Everyone has their five minute open spot; their bite at the cherry and, in this accidental meritocracy, talent will out.

And you spend less money on drink.

Nordic Frontal Exposure

2008-09-09T06:16:00.000-07:00

Now that I am down in Glasgow again to do gigs I am realising how much I LOVE the nordic life. For proof of how much I am in tune with such an environment check out this vid i made in Sweden a few years ago.

PARENTAL ADVISORY: MALE NUDITY AND EXCEPTIONALLY WHITE SKIN. SHADES ADVISED.

Act Local, Eat Like A Yokel.

2008-09-04T03:17:00.001-07:00

This is the bantam hen that lives in Yorkshire Steve's garden, two doors away. She has given us a dozen eggs so far. Gorgeous!

It's a right wee green co-op aroon here.

Between them our neighbours Steve, Sarah, Boagsy and Will&Jackie have so far given us 6 cod, 1 mackerel, 2 crabs, 12 eggs, mixed lettuce leaves, tomatoes, cucumber, a handful of physalis and a bag Ness Kidney potatoes (indiginous to Shetland.) And all locally grown and caught by their own hand. (Well, except the eggs, that was by the chickens arse.)

And if you throw in the rhubarb from our own garden, our home made bread and all the local produce we buy like butter, milk, lamb, beef, smoked garlic, ice cream and lemon curd, well, Hugh Fernley-Whitshisface would be gushing all over the place.

AND we have a brewery in the village! The Valhalla Brewery. Six different beers and all great!

AND Harlodswick up the road has a chocolate factory! Yes. Foords Chocolates.

If this island ever did wine, coffee and bananas we widny have to EVER leave.

No cheese produced in Shetland though. Weird. Well, it looks like I know what business I'm going into when the showbiz career goes belly up. CHEESE! CHEESE I TELLS YA!

In a small island village far far away.

2008-09-02T15:02:00.000-07:00

There ye are. Star Wars wins. My god we are soooo a-side.

If you haven't seen Blue Harvest, SEE IT!

Ther's a new poll up now.
X.x

The Baltasound of The Summer

2008-09-02T04:18:00.000-07:00

On Saturday Baltasound played host to The Unst Show. Mostly live stock (best sheep, best cock, etc,) but also arts and crafts.

Being the new art teacher in town Caroline had the weans in school make this totem pole. It represents the isle of Unst with a seal at the bottom and a puffin in the middle, that's our wildlife, and at the top, King Harald of Norway who landed here a wee while ago, giving his name to our neighbour town of Haroldswick.

It won "Most Amusing."

And look-there's me acting like a fanny next to the one that got second place. Will post other winners later.

Caroline also won the pottery category with a wee clay polar bear beating her students to the finish line. Screw them! AND she won 1st prize in the portrait competition with this wonderful pic of Iggy Pop.

Okay, she was the only entrant but 1st prize is still first prize.

I won fuck all.

The rest of the day was in the beer tent getting drunk with teachers then dancing to fiddles and accordions at the village hall and getting drunk with teachers. What, teachers drink?!?

Oh and BTW, the horse next door isn't a colt at all. It's a stallion and it won BEST STALLION! As you can see he was over joyed.

Shetland pony through the back

2008-08-30T04:25:00.000-07:00

Looked oot the kitchen windae yesterday and what did I see?

Looks like my neighbour, Frank, the horse tamer, is bringing his work home with him.

It's the Unst show today and I think Frank is entering this little colt in the "1980's Pop Star Lookalike" category.

Sunny! Yah da-da-da, dah! Da-da da-da, Dah! I l

2008-08-29T08:30:00.000-07:00

Ha ha! Sunniest place in the UK. Official! Gerrit up Yeez!

Norwick Exposure.

2008-08-27T03:14:00.000-07:00

We've had a GORGEOUS month of sun. So we've been spending a lot of time at Norwick Beach.

It's only about 8-10 minutes drive from oor hoose.
Soft sand, rolling surf, big bay view, arctic terns diving for their dinner. Beautiful.
Here's Caroline and the dug enjoying a good splash around. (left)

Even on a cold day it's lovely.
Do you like my John Lennon New York Just Before He Got Shot look? All dubbed up for the cold arctic wind.

Bracing sea air, wind in your hair, the dug fighting with the sea. Ooh Arrr! I gonna have to get myself a Sixareen! That's a Scandinavian six oar boat that fishermen keep dying in. Oh, but, arrrrr! She be harsh mistress, etc.

Fresian their arse off.

2008-08-27T03:05:00.000-07:00

This is the end of my street.

Of course I lived in Maryhill for a couple of years so it's not unusual to have a bunch of cows hanging around the corner. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Rig-Mareel-Marole.

2008-08-21T04:54:00.000-07:00

Hi Kids!

This post is a bit of a rant so strap yersells in!

We learned even before we arrived in Shetland that the hot talking point was a proposed building called Mareel. So many voices were vociferous and noisy in their opposition with some councilors talking about battles and war. Even after the building was given the go ahead in a close called democratic election, people were calling for recounts and how they were avowed to overturn the decision. Words were said. One Shetlandic journalist suggested that the cost in postage of letters to The Shetland Times on the subject could have paid for the building.

“Wow”, I thought, “What kind of building could invoke such hue and cry? A maximum security prison? A nuclear waste refinery? An Al Qaeeda training ground or some other equally dangerous and unhealthy institution?

“It’s a cinema.”

“What?”

“It’s a cinema and theatre complex with a rehearsal room.”

“ Like a picturehouse?”

“Yes.”
”Where people sit silently in the dark sharing a bon huer with a touching story or a rollocking rollercoaster ride with the latest blockbuster?”

“Yes.”

“And a concert hall with a state of the art sound system for musicians to touch and inspire the soul?”

“Yes.”

“And a rehearsal room with a sprung floor for wee lassies to go to dance class and couples in their thirties go to do salsa?

“Yes.”

“???”

Here's an artists impression.

The opposition is baffling. Okay, so I’ve only just got here and I don’t know the history and the ins and outs and so on, but should that matter? Am I perhaps in a better position to register the bizarre nature of the debate.?

“We don’t need it,” say some. We have The Garrison Theatre. Yes, while The Garrison does serve the community well, with theatre, music and film, it is in the end an unlicensed ex drill-hall showing a few movies every now and again. Is this enough? Why deny yourself the pleasure of a room designed for the very purpose of film and music? And a world class concert hall would attract world class artists.

“We can’t afford it,” is the other one. Well you know what? I can’t really afford to take my wife to Rome next summer but the idea is so attractive that I am determined to make it happen. And, actually, if we stopped eating such expensive dinners at restaurants and booking premium cabins instead of standard on the Northlink ferries we probably could afford it.

The language of opposition used is also very bizarre. It takes the tone of people who are not just speaking out against something they don’t think will work, but of people personally violated and ridiculed, desperate to get back at someone, when in reality they were, very simply, voted against.

Perhaps, as someone who works in the arts industry I am rather biased. And with the current facilities in Shetland, yes, we can put on concerts, films, plays etc, to entertain and enlighten the public who seek it. But the prospect of what we could give you with the right equipment is very exciting. The talent and the enthusiasm are already here so give us the tools and we’ll finish the job. You will not be disappointed.

I do sincerely hope that when Mareel is built and up and running that the naysayers will allow themselves to enjoy it.

Here's their space. Watch the promo: http://www.myspace.com/mareelshetland

Ta for listening.x.

Pure Energy (by the way)

2008-08-18T03:18:00.001-07:00

This is the Pure Energy Centre on Unst just up the road from the Bus Shelter.

nature drives the turbines with wind (of which there is an inexhaustible supply) which creates electricity which then is converted to hydrogen...or...em..in fact just click the link to see what they do there. They can explain it all better than me:

Pure Energy

And here's a wee film of the Hydrocar versus the Ice Cream Van race at the Unst Thrash, an annual gathering of young motorheads making lots of tyre marks on the runway of Baltasound airport. (The race is the first thing you see you feel free to switch it off after that. The rest is just a load of noise.)

Unst Thrash

Vroom

Big Tumshie

2008-08-18T02:56:00.000-07:00

Well it would seem that according to us the greatest contibution A Swede has made to the world is not revolutionary weponry, ground breaking drama, affordable stylish furnishings or world class pop music but....scoring goals for an average European team for a few seasons.

Yip, Henrick Larson wins the Nordic Exposure fortnightly poll. Here's how he reacted when I told him the news:
Asking how he felt about winning he said, "Tack själv för den här stor heders-. Utom Jag spillt för Barcelona alltför så fuck den Påve."

Check out the new poll.
S.x.

Básta Svensk.

2008-08-15T05:10:00.000-07:00

You only have two days left to vote for your favourite Swede. A new poll starts on Monday.
S.x.

Baltasound Bus Stop Blues

2008-08-15T03:40:00.000-07:00

Hi Guys,

Here I am waiting for the bus to Lerwick. In Shetland this season all the cool bus shelters are wearing Turquoise.

Situated on the A968 trunk road between Baltasound and Haroldswick this is a groovy little shelter with only two busses a day. (The pretty little thing doesn't like to exert herself, much like yours truly.)

Here's what she was wearing last season:
And during her disco phase:

Love Thy Neighbour

2008-08-11T10:44:00.000-07:00

Day 1. Friday. On our first morning in Baltasound the grass out the back looked like this:

Waist high to most, shoulder high to me. So I joked (well not joked just sort of said chirpilly,) to my neighbour, Boagsy, "Ye'd need a scythe to deal with that lot." He replied, "I hae a sye, ah'll hae it done in ten meenuts." It was lovely day so I said "Great," and went on rake'n'barra duty.

So Boagsy, who looks a bit like Catweasel, took his scythe and hacked away for about an hour and low and behold...There was a dog under there! No, of course not. You've been introduced to Meg before. But he did find rhubarb! "Get chirsell a knife an stick that in a crumble," enthused Boagsy. In fact he told me THREE times! "It's ripe! Root it oot!"

So when I went over to tell him that I'd done it he was talking to Frank, my other neighbour, the guy who tames Shetland Ponies (except up here they're just called ponies. A Brazillian doesn't call a Brazil nut a Brazil nut, he just calls it a nut. Actually up here they are just called horses. The ponies that is, not Brazil nuts.)

Frank just happened to have a bottle of Grouse in his bag, so he sent Boagsy in to get four glasses and me in to get Caroline. It was only about 1.30 in the afternoon, but , well, it's just a dram.

Then out comes Andrew, a lovely guy next door who sits in his garden drinking cider from a mug arrived, as did Yorkshire Steve who I'd met earlier when he came my door and said "If you need anything, anything at all, just ask." My city hackles went up wondering what he wanted from me till I remembered where I was and people actually mean stuff like that. So we all stood there drinking a dram, like the opening credits of King Of The Hill, (in fact Frank looks a bit like Dale Gribble.) And it was nice.

We all broke up and I went back to my raking, and Caroline back to her sanding and staining. That should have been it but Andrew went up the shop and bought another bottle of whiskey. So we all ended up together again sitting in our garden this time pissing it up with grain whiskey and red wine. By this time I was like this:

"Me daughter anner friend are oop frompt down south at t'moment," says Yorkshire Steve, "They mekkin' a pottachilleh? Fancy a bitta dinner?"
"Aye!" Sez we.

We were in his house till 1.30 in the morning drinking vodka and smoking rollies.

Now let me remind you- this was our FIRST DAY!!!! Where have we moved to?

Nothing much happened on Saturday.

Stay tuned.
S.x.

All Hail from The Auld Rock!

2008-08-09T09:24:00.000-07:00

Last week my wife Caroline and I arrived to live and work in Baltasound, Unst, Shetland. We are now closer to Bergen than Glasgow. The island of Unst is the most northerly inhabited island in the UK. What in the name of Christ are we doing!? We must be mental. It's this far away:

See! It's that mental!

We're here because Caroline is the new art teacher at Baltsound Junior High and I need a good excuse to get me off the stand up circuit and onto the typewriter.

It takes 12hrs to sail from Aberdeen to Lerwick, then you drive for half an hour to Toft, get the 20 min ferry to Ulsta on Yell, drive another 25 minutes to Gutcher where you get ANOTHER ferry. (Here's me n the dug waiting for the ferry at Gutcher.)

That 10 min ferry takes you to Belmont, then after a 10 minute drive you are in BALTASOUND!

We live in the wee schemie bit to the left. It's a nice bit with MENTAL neighbours. The good kind of mental, though, but more about that later.

On the big 12 hr ferry from Aberdeen Meg the dog and Ffloyd the cat had to stay in the on board kennels down next to the engine room. As you can see they were ecstatic on arrival and didn't hold anything against us.
.

Stay tuned for more Nordic saga's.

Aa da best!