“This is all getting a bit Anglican…”

For the first time in as long as I can remember, there was communion in church this morning.

After eighteen months of interloping as a pisky at St Silas, it took this morning’s sacrament to remind myself that us Presbyterians don’t really believe in doing communion too often.  Presumably if it we did it regularly, our sermons would have to be much, much shorter and that just wouldn’t be on.

The communion was all done in an interesting new format (for Hilton) that involved going forward to receive the wine in big long lines, with lovely echoey choral music playing in the background.  It somewhat reminded me of being back at St Silas.

Then afterwards, we were invited to turn to our neighbours and give them “the peace of the Lord Jesus Christ”.  Someone near me exclaimed “this is all getting a bit Anglican!”.  I laughed rather too loudly.

As I write, I’m just about to head off to the evening service: if the winds of change really are blowing through Hilton, maybe I should be expecting holy water, liturgy, incense, and a bearded man in a cardigan leading us on the guitar through back-to-back Kendrick songs…

God, I hope not.

Embra

I spend a lot of time in Edinburgh for work, as that’s where our global headquarters are.

There’s a lot to like about the city they call Auld Reekie. Like the rich, thick, yeasty smell of the breweries that hangs over the centre of the city; or the awesome architecture of the Old and New Towns, including some wonderful tightly-packed medieval stuff and grand Victorian-era imitation Greek stuff.

The pubs, too, are great, with the typical Edinburgh pub being old, wooden-panelled, comfortable, quiet, and home to numerous good real ales. Being something of an “old man” when it comes to pubs, I much prefer Edinburgh to Glasgow’s somewhat pretentious bar scene. When I lived in Glasgow and told my Weegie friends that I liked a certain pub there because it was “very Edinburgh”, eyebrows would generally be raised.

On the other hand, stuff not to like include the huge crowds, the terrible traffic, the tourists, the hideous parliament building, and the fact that most of my visits seem to be preceded by the gruelling 0645 train from Inverness.

Oh yes, and the bloody Festival. Words simply cannot describe how much I despise the Edinburgh Festival.

Anyway.

I was down the road yesterday and today (Friday), and as I walked from my friends’ place to the office this morning, there was the most sensational sunrise over Calton Hill. I adjusted my route to what I thought would give me a better view so I could take a photo, but alas I ended up getting lost and by the time I found the hill again, there were too many buildings in the way.

There’s always next time. In the meantime, you’ll have to make do with this handful of shots – some from the train down yesterday morning (that good old 0645) and some that evening from Princes Street.

I’m now nearing my 1,000th photo on Flickr… I wonder what it will be of?

Two weeks to go!

No, I don’t mean Christmas, but two weeks and two days until I fly off on my next mullet-hunting adventure.

I’m going to be in Brisbane for New Year (more on that later) and then I have two weeks in the land that gave us short, fat film directors, strange dances at the halfway line, and mutilated vowels.

So this evening, I have been doing a bit of planning and research, trying to figure out how I will get around New Zealand and how I will get to the mullets. And by wonderful coincidence, I received emails from two different friends in New Zealand as I did so, asking how the plans were coming along.

I’m so glad to be going. New Zealand has (along with Iceland) been at the top of my travel wish-list for years, and it’s fantastic I am finally getting to go, albeit for much less time than I would have liked. But what with being very busy at work in recent weeks, I’ve not really had a chance to do much preparation or get excited.

Tonight, however, I’ve done both.

When I’m going on a big trip, having it in the diary (and on the credit card bill) is never quite enough to make it seem real or worth looking forward to. It’s often only once I start pouring over maps, websites and so on that the adreneline-fuelled mesh of anticipation, excitement and not a little fear sends a tingle down my spine that tells me it’s really happening.

For the first time with regards to New Zealand, I’ve finally got the message – I am really going.

I’ve still got heaps to do in the next two weeks and two days, though…

“The Golden Compass”

I went to see the aforesaidmentioned film last night.

It was good.

But only good, not excellent. Sadly, the film didn’t pack the punch of the books, have the engrossing, loveable characters, or the careful explanation of the strange world in which the story takes place. Much was missed out from the books, corners were cut, and the plot often inanely advanced, in a film which did not need to do any of these things and which could easily have lasted another thirty or forty minutes.

That said, it was visually stunning. The gorgeous, gothic architecture of the alternative reality’s Oxford and London were thoughtfully, cleverly and beautifully created, and the special effects, not least in the daemons, bears and final battle sequence, looked impressive. Much of the scenery, such as in the Arctic, was great, and places like Trollesund and Bolvangar were just as I had imagined.

The acting, too, was (mostly) excellent, with the previously unknown actress behind the main character, Lyra, doing a good job. Nicole Kidman was also nothing less than perfect as the beautiful but sinister Mrs Coulter. There were many other famous faces and top-drawer actors in the book, but sadly we just didn’t get enough of their characters – Christopher Lee, for instance, appeared to have been hired to deliver one short line in one simple scene.

It’s a real shame that the film came out like this – one defence of trimming down the film, I suppose, was to make it more accessible to children. But then, as I wrote a few days ago, this is not a story for the young, and most teenagers should be able to cope with two and a half to three hours of cinema.

And it was not just the unflowing way in which the narrative jumped, it was the things that were missed out – such as a full description of the effect and influence of the aurora borealis; a full explanation of exactly why the Magsterium were doing what they did; the backgrounds of the witches, gyptians and bears; or more about Lyra’s importance to everyone’s destiny.

So while it was a perfectly enjoyable film, and will probably fit well within the context of the trilogy (once it is completed), the story (and viewer) was never given a chance to linger or be immersed in the strange, wonderful universe in which events unfolded. In short, the film was such a wasted opportunity.

Maybe my disappointment – and the lukewarm reviews – are down to the Tolkien factor: the Lord Of The Rings films were not only acclaimed adaptations, but simply among the best films ever made. For years to come, fantasy films will inevitably stand in the shadow of hobbits.

Or it could just be that the film illustrates the passable mediocrity you get when you take God out of the equation…

New phone

I called my mobile people, 3, the other day, to see if I could reduce my tariff. They ended up signing me up to a new contract which involves a vastly reduced monthly fee, and this new handset on your right.

Like whenever your regular newspaper changes its font or your favourite band goes “experimental”, it’s all a bit new and the Nokia 6288 will take a bit of getting used to.

I am normally quite change-resistant (I still can’t forgive Mars for changing the name of Marathon or Opal Fruits), but am spending the evening slowly finding my way around the new handset.

It all seemed to work well until I realised all my contacts hadn’t been transferred, so had to call 3 to get some help. A guy said it was a simple process to move the numbers, and said he’d call me back on a different number to talk me through it.

But then he didn’t. Twenty minutes later, I called back, and a different guy apologised and said he would call me back straight away, which he did. Thanks to his help (one of the few really helpful and easily-understandable people I’ve spoken to at 3), all my new numbers are on my new phone.

Yes, dear readers, my Friday night really is this exciting.

Perth railway station

I got back from my adventures on the east coast on Wednesday night, finishing up in Dundee and having a long, late journey home via Perth.

Perth, being in the middle of Scotland’s railway network, is somewhere that all too frequently I find myself changing trains.

The trains south from Inverness generally go to either Edinburgh or Glasgow, and to get to the one your train is not going to, you change in Perth. Rarely is this a problem, because timetables are such that you’re left hanging around for no more than a few minutes.

The Dundee line, however, is a completely different matter. For some reason, nobody believes that anyone wants to travel between Inverness and Dundee (or in my case, has to for work – I am still unconvinced of the merits of visiting Scotland’s fourth city voluntarily). Therefore the changes in Perth can be as long as an entire hour.

I had the misfortune of this on Wednesday. In the cold, dark, windy rain.

Perth railway station is a bland and soulless place at the best of times – dull grey and brown architecture, and nothing to see or do. The cafe is truly dreadful, with tea that tastes like dishwater. There’s not even crowds of people to provide some people-watching to pass the time – after all, nobody else is going from Inverness to Dundee.

And yet, it’s not an entirely offensive place – it’s not oppressive, unduly ugly, badly-designed or difficult to find your way around. It’s just… devoid of character, lacking in atmosphere, and rather than aggravating the senses simply numbs them.

It’s like like the Coldplay of railway stations.

I have no idea if purgatory exists, but if it does, I imagine it would look like Perth railway station.

Anticipating “The Golden Compass”

Greetings from sunny but cold Aberdeen, where I am availing myself of Justin’s wireless internet access.

The Golden Compass, part one of the big-screen adaptation of Philip Pullman’s brilliant and controversial trilogy “His Dark Materials“, is out later this week.  It’s an epic trilogy which has caused an epic controversy – so here’s an appropriately epic blog (one I wrote earlier!) with my thoughts on it.

The novels tell the story of an adventure set across numerous mind-boggling realities and dimensions, in which a young girl, Lyra, helps to defeat an authoritarian force that is attempting to control the world. The trilogy is condemned by some Christians because the “baddies” in the books are a global religious organisation, and the books conclude with the overthrow of a God-like figure.

I read the books a couple of years ago, and while I will come to the religious controversy in a moment, it is irrefutable that the trilogy is a magnificent piece of literature. The worlds and dimensions that Pullman creates are incredible, with jaw-dropping devices, scenarios and ideas revealed to the reader.

In the main character Lyra’s universe, for example, humans’ souls are manifested externally in the form of animals, whose behaviour and interaction with their “owner” help to make the characters rich, deep and fascinating to identify with and understand.  Later, in another fantastic dimension, we encounter a beautifully-balanced ecosystem inhabited by intelligent quadruped creatures, who travel on wheels along smooth volcanic paths.  The wheels grow out of trees and are broken down through regular use by the creatures, eventually splitting and releasing the seeds from which new trees grow.

Throw in some witches, armoured talking bears, vast armies of angels and ghosts, plus weird and wonderful races of beings that would put Star Trek’s writers to shame, and you have a work of undoubted imagination and creativity.

However, many Christians – and not necessarily just the Harry Potter-burning fundamentalists – condemn the trilogy for their anti-church, anti-Christian and anti-God tone. Indeed, “His Dark Materials” is a children’s story that aspires to be an allegory for Humanism in the way that C S Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia was for Christianity.

In “His Dark Materials”, Lyra and others discover a plot by a sinister organisation called the Magisterium (seen as a thinly-disguised metaphor for the Vatican) to conduct gruesome experiments on children to help them better understand human nature, dark matter, and the meaning of the universe. Not only is the Magisterium defeated, but by the end of the story the Magisterium’s God figure has been overthrown and a “Republic of Heaven” installed.

And yet, as a Christian I think the books are excellent.

Besides being an incredible story, brilliantly told, it is nothing that Christians should fear, hate or oppose. Many of the characteristics which make the Magisterium the “baddies” – it is portrayed as secretive, manipulative, power-crazed, controlling and sinister – are indeed ones against which Christians should be vigilant in our churches.

And in terms of the defeat of God, the one portrayed in the trilogy is weak, over-burdened, and fatally flawed, and not one I recognise. Why shouldn’t such an interpretation of God be defeated?

And for those who might find it uncomfortable reading, then there is surely reassurance in the infinite strength and power of our God – if Pullman wants to destroy God through his story, he will of course will fail to strike even the weakest blow.

An infinite, timeless, all-conquering God who created the universe… versus Philip Pullman.  Hmmm, let me think.  I wonder whether any Christian who might protest against this book on the belief that it is damaging to God, is actually paying Pullman an alarmingly inaccurate compliment and therefore also underestimating the God they believe in.

Indeed, where I do have criticism of the books, it lies away from the religion issue.

I’m no expert on children and reading, but in my opinion “His Dark Materials” is utterly unappropriate for anyone under the age of about fifteen. This is not due to the religious content, but due to elements which are overtly and often unnecessarily sexual, violent or just plain complicated. Despite the youth of the main characters, it’s a story with many adult themes (and rather a lot of quantum physics), and it takes some serious concentration to get your head around the plot. 

For me, the main threat to a child in reading this book is not any potential evil influence but rather that they might miss out on fully appreciating the literary and creative depth of this masterpiece.

In fact, it is a mystery to me as to why Pullman sees this as a children’s book when I (as a relatively literate and educated adult) struggle to fully get my head round it.

In any case, the religious content of the books is being significantly toned down in the films, probably in an attempt by the makers to avoid mass protests. It hasn’t entirely worked, though, and it’s amusing to note that while some American Christians maintain their criticism of the forthcoming film, Humanist organisations have condemned the fact that a core part of the plot has been watered down.  Uniting hardline atheists and fundamentalist Christians in condemnation of something takes some admirable skill, I reckon.

Like with the books, I will maintain an open, prayerful mind, and judge the film on what I see.

Personally, I can’t wait.

Shutter

It’s always nice when you discover new music, and especially nice when that music is right under your nose.

I was chatting to Gareth last night and he told me about Shutter, a rock band from Inverness who he had recently discovered. I went to their MySpace page, and really like what I heard.

Shutter are like the dark brooding instrumental music of Mogwai crossed with the post-grungey anger of the Smashing Pumpkins; with hints of the spaceyness of Hawkwind and occasional twists of 70s or 80s rock music with connotations of long American road trips.

Their sound is intense, energetic, and beautifully listenable. I can imagine it would be doubly so live. Inverness, while boasting an excellent live music scene, sadly boasts few bands (that I am aware of) that have gone on to bigger and better things and have helped to improve Inverness’s name as a place for good music.

Shutter seem from what I can read on the web to be getting big, but I hope they also keep playing in their home town. I’d love to see them some time.

Thanks, Gareth!

Languages

Thanks to visits from couchsurfers in the past week or so, I’ve had a chance to practice my rubbish French, my legendarily awful German, and my handful of words of Dutch.

I’ve been really enjoying my couchsurfing experience. Having someone to stay from a different culture is an amazing way to find out more about their homeland and to swap travel stories, and in a sense almost feels like going travelling yourself.

A couple of French-speaking couchsurfers stayed the last couple of days, and although their English was excellent, I tried to use my French when I could and enjoyed the practice. When they asked me over dinner the other night for the full story of the mullet mission, I told them I was a bit bored of telling it in English, as I often lapse into “radio interview auto-pilot” when telling it.

And so I decided to tell it in French.

It took some time, as anyone who has had the misfortune to talk to me in French will all too readily understand. My story was punctuated with frequent hesitation, as my guests patiently helped me with long-forgotten past participles. I got there in the end, but sincerely doubt that I am anywhere near challenging Eddie Izzard in the bilingual comedy stakes.

But practice is always good, and I explained to my guests that my confidence and enthusiasm at speaking French vastly outstrips my actual ability. They kindly reassured me that this was better than the other way round – that I had ability but never the confidence to use it.

So maybe I should start blogging in French, and people could correct me as I go? Just a thought.

In other news, the forthcoming week’s work travels take me to Aberdeen (home of oil), Edinburgh (home of the parliament), Dundee (home of The Beano) and Elgin (home of the marbles).

If you see me, give me a wave.