Bits of the north-east

I’ve had a couple of work trips this week.  Yesterday was a long and busy day in Edinburgh, while the day before I drove to Fraserburgh.

Having left Inverness in plenty time in the morning (early enough that it was still dark), I was able to take my time, and it was a really nice drive along the north-east coast of Scotland.

It made me realise that there are a number of extremely pretty towns on the way – the likes of Nairn, Elgin, Fochabers and Banff boast some grand and austere architecture, almost Aberdeens in miniature, while a number of interesting wee villages cling precariously to the high coasts of Banffshire and Buchan, often accessible only via long, twisty, roads down the cliff face.

None are more dramatic in setting than Pennan, a wee village that is famous for being the setting to the amiable (though frankly a little over-rated) Local Hero.  I took a couple of photos, having decided to do a wee bit of a detour from the main road.

Cullen was another highlight, with a beautiful coastal setting and dramatic railway viaducts criss-crossing the home of world-famous Cullen skink.  I’ve driven through it a few times now, and never stopped.

I’d love to explore all that part of the world more, at a slower pace.

But for now, it’s work expeditions that dominate the diary – I’m off to Cupar in Fife tomorrow, although I thankfully follow it up with a catch-up with the gang in Aberdeen in the evening and then a nice relaxing weekend in another bit of the north-east, Deeside.

My favourite words

I’m taking a break from a bit of a spring clean of my flat (a task akin to paining the Forth Bridge) because I have recalled a conversation with someone a wee while ago about favourite words.  It got me thinking about what my favourite words in the English language are.

I’d love to pretend that it led to a long, verbose and highly intellectual period of self-reflection, from which I whittled down a veritable smorgasbord of wordage into a concise shortlist.  But that would be a lie – I obviously don’t use that many fancy words, because it was really quite easy to think up a top three, and here they are.

And just to add, by favourite, I don’t just mean “most used”, although one of my three is a pretty common word you’ll hear if you talk to me.  They need to have a bit of charm, peculiarity, distinction, and thoughtfulness about them.  These three, I think, have all of those, and I really rather love them.

The first two, however, I rarely get to use in normal conversation, which is disappointing.  Anyway, in no particular order…

1. Ethoi

A few years ago, I was writing a report at work in which I mentioned the ethos of one organisation, and then the ethos of another.  When referring to them both, I compared their… ethoses?  No, that didn’t sound right.  I asked a couple of colleagues, and was greeted with blank faces.

I resorted to Google, and discovered that the plural of “ethos” is the quite magnificent Greek word “ethoi”.

Any word that ends in “oi” is always going to stand out as rather unusual, but it also sounds rather wonderful to say.  “Ethoi”.  It’s soft, easy, and a little quirky to pronounce, and is bound to get folk asking questions if you use it.

2. Heteroradical

A friend some time ago introduced me to the gem that is “heteroradical”.  It’s a fantastic word, which is used to describe a word that contains roots of two different languages.  “Television” is a well-known example of a heteroradical word, combining the Greek word “tele” (far) and the Latin word “visio” (sight).

And with “hetero” being Greek for “different” and “radix” Latin for “root”, it makes the word autological.  Which, quite beautifully, means “heteroradical” is, itself, heteroradical.

3. Stuff

“Stuff” is a good word.  A useful stocking-filler, it can replace pretty much any noun if you’re not sure or motivated enough to identify it.  Like “things”, but sounding nicer, “stuff” can be an answer to more or less any question you’re asked, without sounding too dismissive.  I like “stuff”.  I think I use it a lot.

Anyway, I should go back to cleaning.  In the meantime, what are your favourite words?

Comings and goings

I sit down to tap out a blog post on a most historic day.  Historic for a few reasons – more on which in a moment.

Apologies first, however, for the delay since my last post. I spent Wednesday to Friday in Edinburgh and Dundee, and I was in an uncreative mood (that’s what two nights in Dundee does for you, I suppose) so there are no photos to show off.

There are a few from Saturday, though, when I attended my first ever Flickr meet.  Flickr’s very sociable and active Scotland group has a meet more or less monthly, and yesterday’s was Inverness, so I had no excuse not to go along.

It was nice to meet fellow Flickrites, but my crop of snaps from the day isn’t brilliant, to be honest, as I was very much on home turf and it was hard to see anything new in things and places I’ve seen a million times.

Anyway, history.  We come to the end of a week when Obama came to power.  Historic also for being Burns Day, and the start of the well-intentioned but seemingly under-promoted Year of Homecoming, which aims to celebrate some of the best of Scotland across the world, including the work of Robert Burns.

I’ve never been much of a Burns fan, more due to growing up in the Gàidhealtachd where his influence is less compared to the lowlands, than any disinterest on my part.  But in today’s Sunday Herald (the only paper I bother buying), there was a pull-out with some of Burns’ poems, and it’s amazing how he commented on Scotland in ways in which we can recognise and need today.  For instance, the sell-out by the Scottish Parliament of 1707 arouses sentiments in Burns that we should share today; while “To a Mouse” has environmental concerns that similarly resonate.

So perhaps I’ll read some more Burns at some point soon.  If I get a spare five minutes…

Finally, and by far most importantly, it’s a historic day because it is the kick-off of season 5 of Lost, perhaps the greatest thing ever to appear on television.

It’s been too many months since season 4’s incredible cliff-hanger, and I have been desperate for this new season to arrive.

Is Locke really dead?  Will the Oceanic Six return to the island?  And where and how will they find it and its remaining inhabitants?  Will the island’s mysteries ever be fully explained?  As the long, winding plots seem to have some conclusions on the horizon, it will be great to see how things pan out.

The atheist bus and “devangelism”

I have comedian and writer Dave Gorman’s latest blog entry to thank for pointing me towards the origins of the controversial Atheist Bus adverts that have been appearing around the country.

The declarations that “There’s probably no God.  Now stop worrying and get on with your life” have caused some fascinating debates, and I have been mulling over my response to it all for some time now.  Here are my thoughts.

Excellent!

For starters, I think the adverts, backed by the British Humanist Association, are excellent – they’re amusing, quirky, and a neat pastiche of the “Jesus lives” adverts that churches often support or display.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Why should I as a Christian feel uncomfortable or threatened by the message?  These adverts are not the first such proclamation, and we are used to hearing people knock religion and condemn God all the time.  So when the message pops up on the side of a bus, it’s simply the medium that’s worthy of note rather than the message itself.

And in any case, the church should share the British Humanist Association’s desire that there should be a real, serious discussion about whether God exists or not; one that peels away the perceived privileges, structures and distraction of organised religion and get down to the real issues – like who we are, where we came from, and what the meaning of life is.

We have nothing to fear from such a debate.  The more people see these adverts, the more we as Christians will be asked for our views, and the more we can talk about our faith to those who enquire.

Argh!

Just a shame, then, that many Christians who have been invited to comment about the posters have put their feet in their mouths before they have barely opened them.

This article, for instance, quotes someone from Christian Voice as saying:

“People don’t like being preached at. Sometimes it does them good, but they still don’t like it.”

Meanwhile this article reports a Christian woman condemning the advert because:

“Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but I don’t like it in my face.”

And then there’s the bizarre story of the Christian bus driver who refused to work on a bus carrying the advert.  Even more bizarrely, his employers have acquiesed, despite the fact that it’s obvious to everyone that companies (let alone their employers) do not endorse the products their spaces advertise.

Such reactions don’t need a militant atheist to tell the kettle that the pot’s on line 1, or to observe that many people are sick of Christians who ram their messages down people’s throats and then are aghast when a contrary message is blandly stated in response.

Is the faith of some Christians so weak, so stagnant, so unstimulated that when the slightest challenge arises, they take instant offence and can’t see the opportunity it represents?

“Devangelism”

In this photo, a Christian Flickrite coins the throught-provoking phrase “devangelism”, which I feel neatly sums up exactly what’s wrong with a lot of Christian outreach – in your face, aggressive, critical and utterly out of sync with how people lead their lives and seek information.

When people prosthelytse in such a way but, as in the quotes above, condemn atheism for doing the same, it reeks of hypocrisy and spectacularly undermines those who are doing such good for the name of Jesus in this world.

As with much else in the world,  it’s sadly the bad examples of Christianity that people remember and judge by.

How refreshing, therefore, to read that one Christian think-tank has seen the opportunity the the adverts represent, and have donated to the fund that is paying for them.  I wonder if the British Humanist Association saw that one coming.

It is hard, but we as Christians must continue to strive to avoid hypocrisy, aggression or defensiveness.  We must remember that when we speak out, people judge us, and judge our God through us.  We must show that Christianity is not about shoving religion down people’s throats or about judgementalism and the imposition of values upon those who do not choose them.  Rather, it’s about living and breathing the message of love contained in the Gospels – even when we’re not speaking.

As St Francis of Assisi said, “Preach the gospel at all times – if necessary, use words.”

Faith

In recent weeks, I’ve been having some fascinating discussions with a variety of atheist friends about religion, faith and God.  One of the major points has been about proving the existence of God, which of course I am unable to do.

Many of these friends don’t feel satisfied with my argument that if God is the infinite, omniscient being that the Bible describes, and if we as humans have only limited knowledge of our universe, then its perfectly reasonable that God – and indeed many other things – may be beyond our comprehension and therefore unproveable.

This is why Christians have faith in him rather than simply a logical acknowledgement of him.

Mind you, a logical acknowledgement of God is all that Christian Voice seem to have – in the article about the ASA referral I referred to above, they claim:

“There is plenty of evidence for God, from people’s personal experience, to the complexity, interdependence, beauty and design of the natural world.”

That’s it?  Some people have claimed they felt something, and there’s lots of pretty trees and flowers in the world… therefore God exists?

If that’s not a dangerous misrepresentation of Christianity, I don’t know what is.

The point is, even if I or Christian Voice were able to provide conclusive proof that God exists, it probably still wouldn’t be enough for many atheists.  The Bible contains many examples of people who witnessed the power of God, or even met Jesus, but still refused to believe, because it didn’t suit their lifestyle or worldview or they couldn’t understand what they were experiencing.

If we claim to possess or rely on scientifically solid proof that there is a God, then we’ve missed the point.

So my message to Christians who are appauled and offended by these adverts is to get a grip.

Christianity is a faith, not a logic.  That’s why we have nothing to fear from an advert on the side of a bus that tells us nothing we’ve not heard before, from a jibe which our God is bigger than and which we should rise above, from a slogan which is an invitation for us to set out our stall and answer the questions we will inevitably be asked.

Perhaps I should start an appeal for a similar message on the side of buses:

“It’s clearly just an advert.  Now stop worrying and get on with your faith.“

Beds

Now, the following statement is not really as interesting as it sounds, but in the past few years I’ve slept in more beds than I care to remember.

A somewhat peripatetic working life means I am frequently away from home, sleeping in a variety of strange beds.  Although some I end up frequenting so often, such as Justin’s spare room, that they are like a second home.  And as anyone who finds it hard to get used to a new or unfamiliar bed will appreciate, it can sometimes be hard to get some decent sleep.

In Shetland last week and Orkney this week I stayed in B&Bs that were otherwise excellent, but boasted one annoying feature which only made matters worse, and the purpose of which I simply cannot fathom – a footboard.

Alongside helicopter ejector seats, jogging and cricket, bed footboards serve no useful purpose whatsoever.  Why would you want a barrier running alongside the bottom of your bed?  I can just about understand something at the top of the bed to give you something to lean against (although quite what’s wrong with the combination of wall and pillow I have no idea).

But at the bottom?  If you’re going to fall out of bed at all, it will surely be over the sides, not by slithering uncontrollably downwards.  Unless of course you sleep in a hydraulic bucket lift on a lorry, or a bed that boasts an alarm call mechanism courtesy of Wallace and Gromit.  In which case, please accept my apologies and feel free to skip to the last paragraph.

And when you’re over six foot tall, these things are important.  Stretching your feet to the bottom of the bed only to find their progress blocked by a pointless barrier of wood or metal is most uncomfortable and inhibiting, and I have the stubbed toes and bags under my eyes to prove it.  And sleeping diagonally in a single bed just doesn’t work.

Why do certain schools of thought in the bed-design world feel it appropriate to discriminate against tall people, who simply want to stretch out or, if necessary, dangle their feet over the bottom of the bed?  Why go to the effort of adding something to a bed which runs against the very philosophy of a bed – comfort?

So please, bed-makers of the world, stop it.

I feel I should write an indignant letter.  Though to who, I don’t know.

Meanwhile, other than footboards, I had a good time in Orkney.  The weather was lovely, although this morning’s spectacular views of the Cromarty, Moray and Beauly Firths as I flew back were tempered somewhat by me sitting on the wrong side of the plane to take in the best of the sunrise and scenery, and some white knuckle-grade winds and turbulence.

So there are not too many decent photos to show for my efforts, I’m afraid.  I blame the lack of sleep.

Between weathers

Apologies for the lack of promised report on my Shetland trip.  I took the opportunity of a flying visit to Aberdeen for work on Friday to head out along Deeside for the weekend, and I am just back today.

That means I’ve already threatened my new year’s resolution to spend more weekends at home, but I reduced my corresponding sense of guilt by doing very little except sleeping, eating and reading, due in part to the miserable weather.

Anyway.  To be honest, while I really enjoyed my couple of days in Shetland earlier this week, and the weather was remarkably clement for the time of year, I can’t really be bothered giving a full blow-by-blow account of my solitary amblings around the quiet streets of Lerwick with my camera, or my attempt to avoid feeling self-conscious while having a pint by myself in a pub.  And nor would you be interested, I suspect.

However, when sitting having a pint on the Wednesday night, I did have a little bit of a brainwave, though I’ll save that nascent genius for a later post.

What I will share is that the journey back on Thursday morning from Sumburgh airport to Inverness, stopping at Kirkwall, almost never happened.

I arrived at the still-dark hour of about 7am at the airport – a 40 minute drive south from Lerwick already under my belt, with only the strangely compelling SIBC’s looped music and eclectic mix of local, maritime and Nordic news to find snow beginning to fall and my lucky window of good weather closing.  Only once aboard the plane the authorities decided we needed de-icing, and the crew of the de-icing truck not only took ages to report for duty but also lingered leisurely over their task in a way that led our pilot to share quite openly her frustration to us in the cabin.

Eventually after a freezing hour of reading an in-flight magazine that was two months out of date, we departed – only to spend around the same time loitering on the tarmac in Kirkwall, Orkney, while the plane suffered an electrical fault.

That a couple of Orcadians who’d boarded at Kirkwall were getting increasingly anxious about an onward connection from Inverness to London, served to remind me how precarious the act of planning travel can be across the highlands and islands.

The weather and unreliable transport are in fact strong themes in the book I’ve just finished reading, Between Weathers by Ron McMillan, which I picked up from the Shetland Times bookshop in August.  It’s an enthralling travelogue of a journey around Shetland in 2005, describing people, places, cultures and histories of the different communities of Shetland – different not only from the rest of Scotland but, often, from each other.

Covering the county from top to bottom and taking in the hardest to reach islands, McMillan writes personably and cheerfully without being flippant, and informedly and authoritatively without being dry or academic.

As a Scot, he is able to present his subject sympathetically and realistically, and with evidence of substantial research before and after his trip.  A writer from further afield might have easily run the risk of describing these supposedly “remote” islands in a romantic, patronising or one-dimensional way.

He also writes sensitively about the people he meets, who – even where unnamed - would probably be easily identifiable to locals or future visitors.

It’s well worth a read to anyone interested in Shetland, and it’s certainly whetted my appetite for my next work trip in June, which I am seriously contemplating extending to make into a wee holiday.

Delays

I got back from Shetland this morning, after a very early start and a delayed flight.

I’d write more about my highly enjoyable trip, but I am shattered (not a good sign for my first couple of days back at work!) so perhaps the report can wait until tomorrow.

In the meantime, here is the customary batch of photos.

Back into the groove

This coming week, the idleness of holiday comes to an end and reality kick-starts with a bang.

I have a very busy month ahead, and will be clocking up the rail (and occasional air) miles in my expeditions around Scotland.  From what I remember, I’ll be making appearances in Orkney, Edinburgh, Aberdeen and Dundee.

But tomorrow I fly off to Shetland for a couple of nights, which as always I am really looking forward to.

It will probably be quite different from the gorgeous weather I had last time I was up, but it will still be fun to explore a little in between my work.

I’ve enjoyed the last couple of weeks of doing very little, so it may be a bit of a shock to the system getting back into the work routine…

Happy New Year

What I saw of the Hogmanay bash in Inverness last night was spectacular.

I gave most of the music a bodyswerve, but made a point of catching the first act, the excellent local outfit Shutter.  Their powerful, booming sound perfectly suited the outdoor venue, and the lighting was brilliant against the still conditions and low cloud.

Infuriatingly, my camera chose this moment to have a rare hissy fit, so I was unable to get any photos.

Thankfully it finished sulking in time for the bells – and there was a brilliant view from the castle of the fireworks over Inverness Cathedral at midnight.

It’s great to see that Highland Council knows how to put on a party when it really wants to.

Here’s to a good 2009…