a picture from our hols in Greece that I had forgotten about...

...and that made us laugh a lot!

I think this might be the best hat I've ever seen.

Jim Anderton defends kiwifruit

After last week's Stern report, and spurious subsequent comments about NZ food miles, Jim Anderton's been writing letters to the editor, and was all huff and puff on this morning's Today Programme. And oh so kiwi. Quote of the interview:

If European producers want to make the argument [about food miles] based on solid scientific evidence, they're going to be on a hiding to nothing.

It's ages since I've heard that phrase, but it's a goody.

Since I'm talking about solid scientific evidence (instead of, say, our latest travels or what the neighbours are up to), the Dilbert blog had a pretty exhaustive discussion about stem cells (very much on the agenda in the US because of the mid-terms). It's far too much to plough through, but a small sampling gives a flavour of the range of information and otherwise out there.

And if that's not enough stem cell action for you, take a look at this film I made (you'll need Flash player).

autumnal

The view from our window on Saturday morning. Everything rain-soaked after a drookit night, leaves on the turn, apple boughs bowing and the sun starting to do her thing. It looked amazing and like a day full of promise.

Chilly, but. There's a definite air of autumn about Edinburgh right now. Emergency gully clearing (all those leaves). Lots of rain - interspersed with blinding sunshine. Skidding over crabapples on the way to work.

So, on our day full of promise, we headed west. But Glasgow had other ideas. As is often the case on the 45 min trip, the skies got greyer and more ominous. Still, we made it to Kelvingrove (via the clockwork orange and a walk along the river) without getting wet. And there was plenty there to keep us occupied as showers passed by (with a tasty lunch stop across the road at Mother India's cafe...butter chicken to die for, zingy lime and coriander baked trout). When we first came to Scotland, Kelvingrove was closing and we thought we wouldn't still be here when it reopened. Sorry mum! It's a great museum - fine art and natural history under one roof, Dali rubbing shoulders with the dinosaurs. I don't normally go in for old bones, but my favourite thing was the majestic, enormous skeleton of the giant Irish deer (pic#7).

We've been in Greece

Hence the dearth of posts.

We've been back a week and I'm slowly adjusting to normal autumn Edinburgh life after more than 2 weeks in the Greek sun. My tan is fading, summer clothes have been packed away, but we still have plenty of photos to wade through.

Pictured left is Oia, in postcard-pretty Santorini, one of three islands we visited. It's extremely photogenic, from the pastel-hued villages that cling improbably to caldera cliffs, to red beach, a colourful result of the island's volcanic past.

One morning, we woke to a deafening boom echoing around the caldera. A, half-asleep, thought the volcano was erupting again. Fortunately not. Instead it was one of several dramatic thunderstorms that punctuated our trip.

Even more hair-raising was riding on the back of a scooter up (and more to the point, down) some seriously steep and winding hills. A few off-road adventures, too - especially on Naxos, which is a much bigger island and therefore easier to get lost in. But you're never far from a gorgeous beach and/or greek coffee, so getting lost's no great hardship.

We liked Naxos a lot. It may lack Santorini's drama, but it also lacks many of the hoardes of tourists (especially in September), making it a much more relaxed proposition. More soon...

"It's not really bothering us"

An ohhhmmmm update. Our neighbours one-up are going crazy - one has moved back with her mum this week to get some sleep. Last Thursday, we slept in the lounge on the airbed, marginally more tolerable than the noise in the bedroom. And this morning I think the whole building was vibrating.

Meanwhile, the source of the hum has been identified (2-up). But it's not really bothering them, so they haven't done anything about it.

I think our neighbour impressed on them the gravity of the situation this weekend, though, and hope to return to quiet nights sometime soon.

Neigh wach man (sic)

Hot off the press, in our letterbox today, comes this from the inimitable, indomitable Neighbourhood Watch Newsletter for Jordan Lane East:

I was very disappointed last month to have a copy of the Newsletter pushed under our gate wrapped in a clear plastic glove for protection, and I presume, to protect the messages written on the newsletter. The message written in highlighter pen and addressed "To Neigh wach man" threatening that the Leith boys will Get you" was accompanied by language not even used on Big Brother. As I put every copy through a letterbox I can only assume someone doesn't appreciate my efforts.

Phew. What an intro. My eyes are peeled for ned-like sorts wielding highlighters lurking in our stair. In fact, I have a theory about the culprit.

Meanwhile, our man with the binocs remains undeterred, and furnished us with a cracker this month. Highlights include the theft of over £30 worth of deodorants, followed just six days later with an upped ante of £50 worth of antiperspirant products from the same shop. By my calculation that would be 25 or more deodorants. That's a lot of the underarm stuff. Either someone's figured out how to make speed from it, or the thieves have some serious perspiration problems. Mysterious.

You see why this city's produced so many great crime writers?

Ohhhmmmmmmm

No, not the relaxing meditation chant. Quite the opposite.

Instead it's an unexplained, unpredictable, unlocatable noise in our building somewhere. Rating as highly as Berin's frogs as a sleep impediment, and able to penetrate earplugs (I'm beginning to think it just makes my skull vibrate), it's becoming a problem. We think it's in the pipes, somewhere, but no amount of water running or boiler fiddling makes a jot of difference. Must be pipes upstairs, over which we have no control. And usually comes on after 11, when we can't really visit neighbours to investigate.

Apart from mild sleep deprivation, everything's fine. Spotted this picture of a familiar view in a charity shop window yesterday, had to have it!

the rest of the fest

or, what I did last week (don't worry, no "what I had for breakfast"s, just the edited highlights)

Saturday
a festival-free day, but we did venture out to watch the rugby (ABs vs SA) for the first time all season, in the cosy, friendly and delightfully unsmoky Teuchters.

Friday
Ian Rankin on the couch - psychoanalysed by celeb psychiatrist Raj Persaud (whose Motivated Mind sits unread on our bookshelf - we're too unmotivated to read it). What makes a crime writer, and his famously damaged creation, Rebus, tick? It could have all gone horribly wrong, but Rankin's gabby enough to pull anything off (and I mean that in a nice way).

Thursday
Wide Awake at Cineworld - a personal exploration of insomnia. I thought I was bad, but this guy (the filmmaker, Alan Berliner) was a lot worse. Good film though - with all those extra waking hours he's built an amazing warehouse-sized archive of footage and newspaper clippings that was used to great effect in this doc.

Wednesday
John And Jane - another doc, this time about call centre workers in Mumbai. Quite a surreal start when after the EIFF graphic came "New Zealand International Film Festival, sponsored by Telecom". Bad print hygiene, I guess, but it did make me smile. The call centre was for American clients, the workers kept American hours (working through the night), and as part of their training learned about the differences between the US and India (fluffy towels, consumer choice and catalogs). Side-effects of this 'education' included the conversion of Hindu call centre workers to happy-clappy Christianity of the mid-west kind, and the tragic figure of Naomi, bottle blonde, right down to the eyelashes, and "totally very Americanized". The backdrop of Mumbai streets and homes rapidly gives way to desolate malls, endless cookie-cutter apartment blocks, and the sterile call centre itself. One character even dreams of owning a Spanish-style villa. A disturbing glimpse of globalisation in action.

Tuesday
Work freebies took us along to the bookfest to see Ian Wilmut and Richard Holloway chew the fat. Cloning, animal research, all the usual suspects.

Monday
A. thought she might not be much good live. But Regina Spektor was better than good. I felt like I was in the presence of rare talent. Better live than recorded. What a voice! And so sweet with it. Gush.

I came across her in a slightly unusual way. Every time we went to the cinema, we saw the Sky TV ad with "I am Danny Way" on it (y'know, UK dwellers, the skateboarding one) and Regina belting out the uber-catchy Us. Had to track her down. And then she came to Edinburgh :-)

Festival recollections

It's been a busy old week and a bit. Lots of culture. I'm going to try to track back through it, see what I remember. If my memory's good, this could be a long one. You have been warned...

Tonight's easy. It finished little over an hour ago. The closing gig of the Edinburgh Book Festival - Richard Holloway. A. asked me as we waited what he was going to be talking about. I had no idea. " Dunno. Philosophy, I guess." I'd booked the tickets on a bit of a whim, as we'd both liked his Looking in the Distance so much. Holloway used to be the Bishop of Edinburgh, but is not so hot on God any more. It turns out (not all that surprising, given his former life) that he's a fantastic, captivating orator - who can recite whole chunks from texts with scarcely a glance at the page. Tonight's theme was suffering - not an easy subject, "sacred ground" that it is - and the intellectual, theological and practical responses that are possible. He circled around his theme, reading from the book of Job, holocaust literature, Larkin, a Polish poet whose name I couldn't catch, and the ending of The Line of Beauty, as Nick contemplates his likely fate:

It was a love of the world that was shockingly unconditional [...] It wasn't just this street corner but the fact of a street corner at all that seemed, in the light of the moment, so beautiful.

I hadn't felt like going out, was feeling a bit festivaled-out. I'm very glad I did.

Yesterday
We had landed some freebies from A's work to the if.comeddies - the awards formerly known as the Perriers. Good sponsorship deal that - even though they've stopped sponsoring, everyone namechecks them. Not so sure about the new name. I read an alternative suggestion in the weekend papers - the iffys. Fortunately, the comedy was not remotely iffy. For the first time this festival, I laughed a lot. Especially at David O'Doherty, and his story about the other David O'Doherty - top in Google and a bit geeky too. Even funnier was Mark Watson - no cheap jokes, no sweary words (you could take your mum), just great observation and timing and a very endearing persona (again, mums would love him).

Earlier in the day, we watched Zidane, a 21st century portrait. Football and art cinema - an odd combo. For one game, 17 cameras are trained on Zizou. No narration, just a few quotes as subtitles, a soundtrack by Mogwai and the sound of the game, as Zidane hears it. I didn't even realise that other 'galacticos' like Beckham and Ronaldo were playing until well into the film. Like much art film, (and much football!) it was both fascinating and boring. I began to think maybe that was the point - to show how mundane football really can be, how much downtime, sock folding, spitting and sweating goes on. You get to see lots of all of these. How daft our emotional and financial investment in this game really is. And yet. There's something about Zidane - he's unreadable but not in Beckham's blank way. A bit more mystery. You never see his eyes. He smiles but once. Communication is limited to about three words. You sense his instinct as he roams the pitch, hunting the ball. And delight when he finds it, or it finds him, and he performs the magic we love him for. Beautiful - in spite of all the sweat and spit.

It's Zizou who says it best: "Magic is sometimes very close to nothing at all...nothing at all."

pink minicrocs

It seems I am not the only croc-wearer in the whanau. I have, however, discovered a problem. Static electricity. I wore them all day on Thursday and managed to get a shock from the car (twice) and my computer. I also seem to be even more trip-prone than normal.

new things

It's been a material week. First, a whole roomful of brand new carpet. It's nothing fancy, but infinitely better than living with someone else's stains. We decided on it in record time a few weeks ago. When they didn't call back about the fitting, I started to worry...a feeling exacerbated when I looked for their telephone number and found this litany of complaints. #1 and 4 on Google! But I tracked down the errant fitters and it's now in situ.

On the carpet are my brand new crocs - shoes that are impossible to be sad in. Soft, comfy, incredibly light and silly. What more could a girl want? If I was embarking on a round-the-world adventure, they'd be my shoes of choice. I'm still trying to decide whether I can wear them to work, but they'll definitely be just the thing for the pebbly beaches of Hydra.

This monotype by Ruth O'Dell was my birthday present from A - bought is a cute wee gallery in Harris and just back from the framers. Can you tell what it's depicting?

One new thing I'm not allowed to play with is a new blog. Meanies.

Festival team

Yep, it's that time of year again. Tourists and thesps take over. Buttoned-up Edinburgh becomes, for a month, overwhelmingly theatrical and even a wee bit camp. It's fab, but infinitely distracting. A's working hard on Teamtastic (what do you mean "what's Teamtastic?"??? - you haven't been spammed yet? - well get in there and check it out), and I've been helping out a bit, but we've managed to fit in a wee bit of festival distraction too. Sleep? Pah, who needs it?

Today we saw the eye-popping Kataklo - "athletic dance theatre". We were right in the front row - close enough to see every breath, sinew, and bead of sweat on the amazing troupe of 7 dancers, as they interpreted sports like football, swimming, tennis and skiing through dance. It was my favourite Fringe show of all time (3 yrs so far) - for the art, physicality, wit and sheer endeavour of it all. How did they make their bodies do that?

Yesterday was MyoSung, a Korean show fusing jazz, hip-hop and classical Korean dance. Yep, dance is my thing this festival. Not as slick as Kataklo or last year's Jump, it felt young, raw, and full of energy (tempered with a bit of angst), and had plenty of amazing moves to keep things interesting.

Later, a freebie from A's work led us to Tim Minchin, an Aussie comedian (former glam rocker) who sings like a glam rocker should (maybe better), plays the piano, and composes wickedly funny, perfectly rhymed lyrics - with the odd off-rhyme moments hammed up for comic effect. Entertaining but nothing mind-blowing - although his resemblance to a Mr Smith I know was slightly spooky...

The moon is like a piece of pie

I just looked up to see a pie-wedge moon peeking out above a cloud. It looked really cool but I was too slow to grab the camera and now it's sunk down behind the clouds. I always thought moons rose. But that's the second time this year I've watched it set.

There's also a bat flying around outside - it's the first time I've seen a bat in the city. And yesterday there was a fox skulking between gardens. All this wildlife might have to find a new home if our big garden neighbours have their way, though. 2 houses at the end of Jordan Lane each want to subdivide their enormous gardens, building new houses and chopping down lots of trees. The neighbourhood is in revolt, there are notices in stairwells, and peer pressure to make a submission. It's not so much the bats and foxes. Mostly, people are worried about where they will park their cars.

camping in Scotland

We managed 6 out of 8 nights under canvas on our last wee trip north. For those of you who know Scottish summers, this would probably mean a miserable week all round. But no. It was sunny. We wore shorts. We only had one picnic in the car (this is A's universal marker of all-time holiday low). We enjoyed nights that didn't really get dark: wandering home to our tent just outside of Stornoway at 2am, after a night at the festival, the town far from asleep (even though it was, technically, the Sabbath), the sky still streaked with remnants of what must have been a gorgeous sunset. We saw a few of those on our trip.

Harris was a bit rainy, but fortunately we were holed up in a fab wee B&B, warm and well-fed by chef-owner Margaret. The first time I'd ever seen kumara and haggis paired on a menu (Margaret had spent a season cooking in Whitianga, so was well acquainted with this most kiwi of vegies). Highly recommended if you're ever out that way (unlikely for most of my readers, but you never know...).

Skye brought more good food and some spectacular hills to climb (no not the Cuillins, we're much too soft), and probably the hottest day of the year. And back on the mainland, via ferry ride number three (I do like ferries), midges, a swim and a gorgeous beach. Here 'tis.

Nothing else seems to be working

I think that's why I liked Don Paterson's attempt to sort out Israel and Lebanon:

(...) I end the day in prostrate delirium, trying to figure out how you could solve the Middle East crisis at the mixing desk. Basically, if we can get some hard-knee compression on Syria, we can reinvert the phase on Hizbullah, run it through a high-pass filter and then bury it under the hi-hat. I bounce Israel to mono and pan it hard right, but it sucks even worse. Hand me my bitcrusher, Keith. Sleep claims me. I dream of sleet.

News, island style

We've been on holiday, camping in Lewis, Skye and the highlands. There are some pics on Flickr, and I'll write more soon. For now, here's a taste of island life courtesy of my very favourite newspaper, the Stornoway Gazette:

For the second year running, the Point and Carloway will be running the exciting 'Bravest Dog' category at their shows. Isabel Badley expained: "My former husband (...) looked through all the entries and decided this animal was the most deserving."

14 year old Labrador cross Sonny Jim, who had spent nearly five years in a wheelchair due to a congenital abnormality of the spine, was presented with the award. Sonny Jim did not let his disability get the best of him, and continued to live his normal life, becoming a well known member of the community with his daily walks up and down the village.

I kid you not. I really wish I had come across Sonny Jim when we were in Lewis. It would have been a great honour to meet such a brave dog. Plus I've never seen a dog walking up and down a village in a wheelchair before.

Close second to this article comes with the headline "While islands swelter, New Zealand freezes". Been having some bad weather back in kiwiland? No hiding it from the Leodhasachs - exiles like Angus Finlayson (formerly of Aird Tong but now living in Wellington) keep the islands informed, by sending cuttings from the local (Wellington) paper, to be rehashed in the local (Stornoway) paper.

"Swelter" may be pushing the point a bit, but it was hot and sunny. And even at the busiest time of the year, in the middle of the Hebridean Celtic Festival, it was easy to find a whole cove, beach or cliff to yourself.

good things

• making it home before the heavens opened and turned our street into a river today
• the smell just before the storm - like an Auckland summer's day
• schoc chocolate - dark chocolate with cardamom
• strawberries, raspberries, warmed by the sun
• my ingenious new bedside table - a wooden box with a lid that slides. You can open it without moving your books.

pictures and voices

This is a simple idea, but somehow beautiful. Lost, anonymous photos, given life and space to capture new imaginations. One of those nice moments you sometimes find on the web, amongst all the clutter and MySpace badness.

Speaking of beautiful, saw Bic Runga this weekend. She looked like a little doll, with a lolly-pink dress, stylish bob and silver sandals. Last time we saw her it was an acoustic set at the Reid Hall. This time there was a band, plus Annika Moa and Anna Coddington on backing vocals. She did a fantastic version of the Jacques Brel song, Ne Me Quitte Pas, but for me Bursting Through, just Bic's voice and guitar, pure and haunting, was the highlight.

All the festival programmes are out now, so lots of poring over listings to do, important choices to make...

Not-quite midnight sun

But 10pm and still bright enough in Edinburgh. The nights are short, the birds getting louder and earlier every day (3.30 this morning). It's a nice time of year. The weekends, in sharp contrast to last year, have been properly hot and sunny. Not wearing a jumper socks and shoes sunny, but shorts, singlet, sandals sunny. Lying on the back lawn with the newspaper and a cool drink sunny. Heck, even going to the beach sunny.

So, like everyone else in Edinburgh, we went to the beach last Sunday...froze our ankles paddling in the north sea, inhaled a lot of burnt sausage fumes, fought for a car park. Despite all that, and all the people (on what is supposed to be one of the quietest nearby beaches), it was wonderful to lie on the beach in the sun!

We also lunched with the Reeves (Snr) this weekend, and found a not-too-rowdy pub in which to watch the very boring second half of the England match. Always nice to see kiwis in town.

Land of the midnight sun

This in Tromso, in northern Norway, at around midnight. As dark as it gets. Makes going to bed, never mind sleep, challenging. I know, you're thinking "blackout curtains, no problem". Well, you'd think so, wouldn't you, in a place that doesn't get dark.

Apart from the lack of sleep, it was a fantastic place to have the opportunity to visit. I went on a work trip - our film was screening at a media festival up there, and I had to give an introduction. And collect our prize - we topped the TV & video category, much to my surprise, beating broadcasters to win a nice vase and 20,000 euro!

A bit of a frontier town - stuffed polar bears on the street, half-finished pavements, some grim-looking drinking dens. At the reception on the first evening, reindeer heart, reindeer fillet, seal and whale were served! But it's a university town too, so there are nice cafes.

Spectacular scenery abounds - snow covered alps close to midsummer, and serene, isolated fjords. The odd patch of shoreline settlement that makes you wonder what it would be like to live there, so far north and so far away. Maybe it would be worth it for the light - like this in summer, and the Northern Lights in winter.