Caravan - Van Morrison
You Are The Best Thing - Ray LaMontagne
Once I Loved - Damien Rice & Lisa Hannigan
Better - Regina Spektor
Little Child Running Wild - Crtis Mayfield
You Don't Know Me - Ben Folds & Regina Spektor
Mansard Roof - Vampire Weekend
You Can Call Me Al - Paul Simon
Islands - The XX
We Won't Run - Sarah Blasko
Yellow Taxi - Matt Costa
Your Easy Lovin aint Pleasin Nothin - Mayer Hawthorne
Talkin' Bout My Baby - Curtis Mayfield, Terry Butler, The Impressions
Don't Let Go - Isaac Hayes
Let's Stay Together - Al Green
Real Love - David Grey
Transcontinental - Pedro The Lion
Beating - Noah And The Whale
Merry Happy - Kate Nash
Chase Me - Katie Herzig
Fitzroy Love Song - Flap!
Do Nothing Till You Hear From Me - Robbie Williams
My Baby Just Cares For Me - Nina Simone
Minnie The Moocher - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
Race You - Elizabeth & The Catapult
Chimpow - The Wooho Revue
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
London Still.....
Those of you who have known me for years may know; I have always wanted to travel. This being said, most of you would also be aware that London was not high on the list of places I wanted to travel to, and to be completely honest, I'm not sure it was on the list at all. Other European countries yes, but the UK, I guess I always thought that I could take it or leave it. This being said, London is certainly a lot closer to Europe than Australia is ever going to be (not speaking for Tasi of course, because we all know that Tasi moves a few centimeters closer each year), so when the opportunity presented itself for me to move there, who was I to say no?
Yes, like everyone, I'd heard the hype. I'd read the magazines. I'd listened to British pop, read British novels, seen British movies, envied British festivals, played British board games, and bagged out David Beckam's British accent. It's not like I was disinterested in London due to lack of knowledge about it; on the contrary. I didn't think it had the romantic appeal of Paris, the exotic appeal of Barcelona, the novelty of Prague, or what I in my naivety, mistook for a different or exciting culture.
I couldn't have been more wrong if I were a sitting an advanced algebra test.
The most fascinating thing about London; apart from the history, the culture, that people drink pints of Guinness at 10am, that people drink pints at all, that people don’t seem to be phased by the lack of sunshine, that people describe something as being ‘well-good’ or that they are ‘well-tired’ or that the coffee machine is ‘well-broken’, that there are rules which dictate the correct use of ‘well’ as either a positive or negative enhancement to a statement, that there are rules which dictate the correct use of a grammatically incorrect sentence structure, (I will rant about the idiocy of the English language another day) that buses still have heaters on during ‘Summer’, that Brits think that they even have a Summer, that it is so close to everything (with the exception of Aus of course; but then nothing is close to Aus except for New Zealand and Papua New Guinea, and really, who wants to go to either of those places?) that if you’re happy to entrust your life to a budget airline, you are not forced you to spend the prospective inheritance of future children just because you feel like a vacation, that there are so many 24 hour general stores, that you pay 120 pounds for a room with a bed that takes up three of the walls and a heater that won't turn off, or that there are more deep fried chicken joints named after American states than there actually are states in America. The most fascinating thing about London is how good it is at playing hard to get.
When I first moved there, it treated me like I didn’t exist. Like it didn't even care that I was living there. Then slowly, as it was trying to woo me over, it started to warm to me and allowed me to catch glimpses of its softer side. I on the other hand, was a little nervous, a little tentative. I didn't want to move too fast, or give myself too whole heartedly... I've been hurt by cities before you know, and was afraid London was just going to be another one to pull the rug out from under me just as soon as I started to get close to it.
Typical however of all love stories, as much as I tried not to, subconsciously I began to trust London. I began to embrace it, fall for it's beauty, and understand its mood swings. It had me. Again, typical of all love stories, just as I started to feel comfortable, started 'finding myself' through the relationship, and letting London see the proverbial 'real' me, it was time to go.
Call it what you will, but deep down, as much as I hate to admit it, to this day, I still have a pretty bad case of lover's remorse. I feel that I left before I was ready, and regret the decision every day of my life.
You see somehow, at some point, without me really realising; the late night buzz of the Soho backstreets, the mid-morning coffees in Covent Garden (after scouring the market for the stall that sold the juiciest looking blueberries), the call of the 24 hour DÖner Kebab shop after a big night out, the misty morning walks to the tube station, sifting through the trash and treasure at Kingly court for the ultimate Op Shop bargain (and the invariable Devonshire tea to follow), knowing exactly where to stand on the tube platform so I got off the train right at the escalator, chilling perishable items on a window ledge rather than in the fridge, not finding it strange to see transvestites on a regular basis, eight people sharing one bathroom, wandering aimlessly down Carnaby Street, knowing the names of all the local hobos, Primark (enough said), cheesy chips with mayo being a staple item on every pub menu, oversized geese at all the London parks, nights at The Roadhouse / O'Neils / Trocadero / Tiger Tiger / any Nicholson Pub / The Roxy / Bar Soho/ Shochu Lounge or Waxy O'Connor's, Somerset House (the Tiffany & Co sponsored ice-skating rink off The Strand at Christmas time), eating Millie's Cookies on top of one of the Lion statues in Trafalgar Square, people sun-baking on the side of the Thames, night-buses, and never having to check the weather before leaving the house because the temperature was inevitably going to sit somewhere between 'cold' and 'colder', became a part of me. The fact that they no longer make up a major part of my daily routine, and my way of life, is not only saddening, but also terrifying.
And what became of London after I abandoned ship? Nothing. Like footprints in the sand, so too did my imprint disappear from the city as soon as I did. But what am I without London? Nothing.
You see, London has its routine. It is comfortable with the way its long-term plan looks, and its life has order, consistency, security... next to it, I feel inadequate, insubstantial and am well aware that my leaving was inconsequential. It will have no bearing whatsoever on London's daily ability to function, to thrive, or to cope. So much cannot be said of its lasting effect on me.... Somehow it still has it's hold, and for the life of me, I don't know how to release it.
I feel as though I am falsifying this information ever so slightly. It's not like I didn't ever get out of the city, or out of the UK. I should also mention that I spent a few months traveling around Europe... I got a taste of Irish hospitality, spent a week shivering in the north of Scotland (the Hebrides), did a Contiki tour of Europe which encompassed something like 15 cities in 29 days, spent a month in the far north east of Italy with relatives, and 2 weeks in Egypt lapping up the sun and the heat; eventually however, (as I have been taught, but never believed) all good things must come to an end, and I was brutally awoken by a thing called reality, signaling that it was time for me to end the rose-coloured version of it which had become mine.
In between each of these adventures, (or pebbles along a path in my life which I would very much like to wander back down), I returned to London. I am not sure how or when, but at some point London became home, and I felt more emotion leaving it, than I did when I left the mother country.
I am well aware that my stay in London, in the scheme of things, was not very long (it wouldn't even have registered in the time-space continuum); but had you asked me one year ago, I would never have believed that it could have had such a big impact on my life. Now that I am back in Aus, and happily so, I swear, I treasure every moment I spent in the beautiful, all-be-it a little grey, city.
Although it felt oddly confronting being in Italy and seeing the places where my grandparents came from, standing on Scottish battlefields where so many people died fighting to preserve the freedom of their country, being able to see and understand the wonder behind one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries; how the Pyramids were built, or feeling the impact of lost identity on the people of what I believe to be one of Europe’s most beautiful countries; Czech Republic, it was nothing compared with how confronted I felt at the idea of going home, to my real home, to Australia…
For the year that I was living there, I considered my relationship with London to be one of love-hate, where the love stemmed from being away from it; and the hate from returning. Having finally left the city indefinitely; I am now coming to realize that my relationship with it is more like hate-hate… Whilst I adamantly professed that I hated living there, I can honestly say, that I hate NOT living there more.
So, let this be my tribute. A thank-you, to London... For all it taught me, for all the ways in which it helped me to grow, for all of the things it aided me in doing and for all the windows of opportunity it created for me. Although the people in London may not appreciate the beauty of the city, or take advantage of the multitude of opportunities and windows it opens, I can no longer deny my deep love for and gratitude to the city that opened my eyes to a whole new world. It re-taught me how to be content with my life and comfortable with the idea that although I may not know what direction my future is going; there is a whole world of options, waiting to be explored, discovered and lived.
So here’s to London; the city I love to hate, and hate to love.
Yes, like everyone, I'd heard the hype. I'd read the magazines. I'd listened to British pop, read British novels, seen British movies, envied British festivals, played British board games, and bagged out David Beckam's British accent. It's not like I was disinterested in London due to lack of knowledge about it; on the contrary. I didn't think it had the romantic appeal of Paris, the exotic appeal of Barcelona, the novelty of Prague, or what I in my naivety, mistook for a different or exciting culture.
I couldn't have been more wrong if I were a sitting an advanced algebra test.
The most fascinating thing about London; apart from the history, the culture, that people drink pints of Guinness at 10am, that people drink pints at all, that people don’t seem to be phased by the lack of sunshine, that people describe something as being ‘well-good’ or that they are ‘well-tired’ or that the coffee machine is ‘well-broken’, that there are rules which dictate the correct use of ‘well’ as either a positive or negative enhancement to a statement, that there are rules which dictate the correct use of a grammatically incorrect sentence structure, (I will rant about the idiocy of the English language another day) that buses still have heaters on during ‘Summer’, that Brits think that they even have a Summer, that it is so close to everything (with the exception of Aus of course; but then nothing is close to Aus except for New Zealand and Papua New Guinea, and really, who wants to go to either of those places?) that if you’re happy to entrust your life to a budget airline, you are not forced you to spend the prospective inheritance of future children just because you feel like a vacation, that there are so many 24 hour general stores, that you pay 120 pounds for a room with a bed that takes up three of the walls and a heater that won't turn off, or that there are more deep fried chicken joints named after American states than there actually are states in America. The most fascinating thing about London is how good it is at playing hard to get.
When I first moved there, it treated me like I didn’t exist. Like it didn't even care that I was living there. Then slowly, as it was trying to woo me over, it started to warm to me and allowed me to catch glimpses of its softer side. I on the other hand, was a little nervous, a little tentative. I didn't want to move too fast, or give myself too whole heartedly... I've been hurt by cities before you know, and was afraid London was just going to be another one to pull the rug out from under me just as soon as I started to get close to it.
Typical however of all love stories, as much as I tried not to, subconsciously I began to trust London. I began to embrace it, fall for it's beauty, and understand its mood swings. It had me. Again, typical of all love stories, just as I started to feel comfortable, started 'finding myself' through the relationship, and letting London see the proverbial 'real' me, it was time to go.
Call it what you will, but deep down, as much as I hate to admit it, to this day, I still have a pretty bad case of lover's remorse. I feel that I left before I was ready, and regret the decision every day of my life.
You see somehow, at some point, without me really realising; the late night buzz of the Soho backstreets, the mid-morning coffees in Covent Garden (after scouring the market for the stall that sold the juiciest looking blueberries), the call of the 24 hour DÖner Kebab shop after a big night out, the misty morning walks to the tube station, sifting through the trash and treasure at Kingly court for the ultimate Op Shop bargain (and the invariable Devonshire tea to follow), knowing exactly where to stand on the tube platform so I got off the train right at the escalator, chilling perishable items on a window ledge rather than in the fridge, not finding it strange to see transvestites on a regular basis, eight people sharing one bathroom, wandering aimlessly down Carnaby Street, knowing the names of all the local hobos, Primark (enough said), cheesy chips with mayo being a staple item on every pub menu, oversized geese at all the London parks, nights at The Roadhouse / O'Neils / Trocadero / Tiger Tiger / any Nicholson Pub / The Roxy / Bar Soho/ Shochu Lounge or Waxy O'Connor's, Somerset House (the Tiffany & Co sponsored ice-skating rink off The Strand at Christmas time), eating Millie's Cookies on top of one of the Lion statues in Trafalgar Square, people sun-baking on the side of the Thames, night-buses, and never having to check the weather before leaving the house because the temperature was inevitably going to sit somewhere between 'cold' and 'colder', became a part of me. The fact that they no longer make up a major part of my daily routine, and my way of life, is not only saddening, but also terrifying.
And what became of London after I abandoned ship? Nothing. Like footprints in the sand, so too did my imprint disappear from the city as soon as I did. But what am I without London? Nothing.
You see, London has its routine. It is comfortable with the way its long-term plan looks, and its life has order, consistency, security... next to it, I feel inadequate, insubstantial and am well aware that my leaving was inconsequential. It will have no bearing whatsoever on London's daily ability to function, to thrive, or to cope. So much cannot be said of its lasting effect on me.... Somehow it still has it's hold, and for the life of me, I don't know how to release it.
I feel as though I am falsifying this information ever so slightly. It's not like I didn't ever get out of the city, or out of the UK. I should also mention that I spent a few months traveling around Europe... I got a taste of Irish hospitality, spent a week shivering in the north of Scotland (the Hebrides), did a Contiki tour of Europe which encompassed something like 15 cities in 29 days, spent a month in the far north east of Italy with relatives, and 2 weeks in Egypt lapping up the sun and the heat; eventually however, (as I have been taught, but never believed) all good things must come to an end, and I was brutally awoken by a thing called reality, signaling that it was time for me to end the rose-coloured version of it which had become mine.
In between each of these adventures, (or pebbles along a path in my life which I would very much like to wander back down), I returned to London. I am not sure how or when, but at some point London became home, and I felt more emotion leaving it, than I did when I left the mother country.
I am well aware that my stay in London, in the scheme of things, was not very long (it wouldn't even have registered in the time-space continuum); but had you asked me one year ago, I would never have believed that it could have had such a big impact on my life. Now that I am back in Aus, and happily so, I swear, I treasure every moment I spent in the beautiful, all-be-it a little grey, city.
Although it felt oddly confronting being in Italy and seeing the places where my grandparents came from, standing on Scottish battlefields where so many people died fighting to preserve the freedom of their country, being able to see and understand the wonder behind one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries; how the Pyramids were built, or feeling the impact of lost identity on the people of what I believe to be one of Europe’s most beautiful countries; Czech Republic, it was nothing compared with how confronted I felt at the idea of going home, to my real home, to Australia…
For the year that I was living there, I considered my relationship with London to be one of love-hate, where the love stemmed from being away from it; and the hate from returning. Having finally left the city indefinitely; I am now coming to realize that my relationship with it is more like hate-hate… Whilst I adamantly professed that I hated living there, I can honestly say, that I hate NOT living there more.
So, let this be my tribute. A thank-you, to London... For all it taught me, for all the ways in which it helped me to grow, for all of the things it aided me in doing and for all the windows of opportunity it created for me. Although the people in London may not appreciate the beauty of the city, or take advantage of the multitude of opportunities and windows it opens, I can no longer deny my deep love for and gratitude to the city that opened my eyes to a whole new world. It re-taught me how to be content with my life and comfortable with the idea that although I may not know what direction my future is going; there is a whole world of options, waiting to be explored, discovered and lived.
So here’s to London; the city I love to hate, and hate to love.
Gypsy Caravan Playlist 23/01/2010
Caravan - Van Morrison
Vegetable Car - Joshua Radin
Lovely - Tinpan Orange
Lies - The Waifs
In Your Hands - Charlie Winston
The Fool - Jesse Harris
A Drop In The Ocean - Ron Pope
Daisy Chain - Lady Of The Sunshine
Fell In Love Without You (acoustic) - Motion City Soundtrack
Prescription - Scott Matthew
Casualty - Missy Higgins
Houdini's Escape - Nathan Gaunt
Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac
Vegetable Car - Joshua Radin
Lovely - Tinpan Orange
Lies - The Waifs
In Your Hands - Charlie Winston
The Fool - Jesse Harris
A Drop In The Ocean - Ron Pope
Daisy Chain - Lady Of The Sunshine
Fell In Love Without You (acoustic) - Motion City Soundtrack
Prescription - Scott Matthew
Casualty - Missy Higgins
Houdini's Escape - Nathan Gaunt
Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Junction (Filling in for Glen Ford) Playlist 20/01/2010
For a Short Time - Carus Thompson
Purple Tre - Madelina
This Old Love - Lior
Bad Things - Jayce Everett
Whisky - Nathan Gaunt
Jack You Dead - Joe Jackson
Black Betty - Ram Jam
Darlin' I Need Ya - Kid Confucious
Company Sin - John Butler Trio
Good Seed - Loren & The Grow Your Owns
Dengue Woman Blues - Jimmy Vaughan
I Pitty The Fool - BB King & Buddy Guy
When It's Good - Ben Harper
Pride And Joy - Stevie Ray Vaughan
Roadhouse Blues - The Doors
All For You - The Blues Travellers
Welcome Stranger - Megan Washington
Love Is An Animal - Wes Carr
Juanita - Georgia Fair
Good Golly Miss Molly - Chubby Checker
Devil With The Blue Dress On - Little Richard
A Little Ramblin' Blues For Any Hour - Lisa Mitchell
There Is So Much More - Brett Dennen
Loving You - Paolo Nutini
Make You Happy - Josh Pyke
Tarzan Of Harlem - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
Purple Tre - Madelina
This Old Love - Lior
Bad Things - Jayce Everett
Whisky - Nathan Gaunt
Jack You Dead - Joe Jackson
Black Betty - Ram Jam
Darlin' I Need Ya - Kid Confucious
Company Sin - John Butler Trio
Good Seed - Loren & The Grow Your Owns
Dengue Woman Blues - Jimmy Vaughan
I Pitty The Fool - BB King & Buddy Guy
When It's Good - Ben Harper
Pride And Joy - Stevie Ray Vaughan
Roadhouse Blues - The Doors
All For You - The Blues Travellers
Welcome Stranger - Megan Washington
Love Is An Animal - Wes Carr
Juanita - Georgia Fair
Good Golly Miss Molly - Chubby Checker
Devil With The Blue Dress On - Little Richard
A Little Ramblin' Blues For Any Hour - Lisa Mitchell
There Is So Much More - Brett Dennen
Loving You - Paolo Nutini
Make You Happy - Josh Pyke
Tarzan Of Harlem - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The Junction (Filling in for Glen Ford) Playlist 07/01/2010
Blindsided - Bon Iver
Autumn Flow - Lior
Matchbox Blues - Stevie Ray Vaughan & B.B. King
Every Girl I Meet - Matt Dwyer
Fangin' - Louis King
New Coat Of Paint - Tom Waits
The Devil Made Me Do It - Louis King
You Don't Have To Believe Me - Eric Hutchinson
She's So Fine - Neil Warboys & the Real Time Liners
The Matter At Hand - Neil Warboys & the Real Time Liners
Hallelujia I Love Her So - Jimmy Barnes
Jump, Jive & Wail - Cherry Poppin' Daddies
Papa's Got A New Bag - James Brown
Surely - Colin James and The Little Big Band
King Of Swing - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
Michael Makes The Money - Frankie Wants Out
Cocaine - Eric Clapton
Colours - Bonjah
Daniella - John Butler Trio
Diego & The Village Girl (live) - Lior
Learn Your Routes - Dallas Frasca and Her Gentlemen
She's Got The Time - Newton Faulkner
Staple It Together (live) - Jack Johnson
Just Like Heaven - Katie Melua
Past & Present - Feist
On The Road Again - Katie Melua
Will You Still Love Me, Tomorrow - Amy Winehouse
Oh No, Not You Again - James Reyne
Autumn Flow - Lior
Matchbox Blues - Stevie Ray Vaughan & B.B. King
Every Girl I Meet - Matt Dwyer
Fangin' - Louis King
New Coat Of Paint - Tom Waits
The Devil Made Me Do It - Louis King
You Don't Have To Believe Me - Eric Hutchinson
She's So Fine - Neil Warboys & the Real Time Liners
The Matter At Hand - Neil Warboys & the Real Time Liners
Hallelujia I Love Her So - Jimmy Barnes
Jump, Jive & Wail - Cherry Poppin' Daddies
Papa's Got A New Bag - James Brown
Surely - Colin James and The Little Big Band
King Of Swing - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
Michael Makes The Money - Frankie Wants Out
Cocaine - Eric Clapton
Colours - Bonjah
Daniella - John Butler Trio
Diego & The Village Girl (live) - Lior
Learn Your Routes - Dallas Frasca and Her Gentlemen
She's Got The Time - Newton Faulkner
Staple It Together (live) - Jack Johnson
Just Like Heaven - Katie Melua
Past & Present - Feist
On The Road Again - Katie Melua
Will You Still Love Me, Tomorrow - Amy Winehouse
Oh No, Not You Again - James Reyne
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Oh Flower of Scotland....
My imagination is on steroids. It is way too big and way too hyperactive, and almost at the point of needing a straight jacket and padded cell....
I remember one Summer evening at work, I looked up, and for a fleeting moment, thought that I was back in Scotland.
I was actually in the middle of an empty restaurant... After closing.
Let me explain.
The restaurant I worked at, had tinted, ceiling to floor windows, running the length of an entire wall. The Venetian blinds were practically always open (unless requested otherwise), to ensure customers were given the optimum view of the exquisite suburbia that the restaurant looked out onto. As I am sure you can appreciate, the superbly mismatched picket fences, fading brick veneers, and vast array of rusting (not to be confused with rustic) letter boxes, really set the mood for a romantic dining experience, (and apparently work like a charm, for those with imaginations as overactive as mine).
This one particular night, there was a looming dark cloud, casting a grey shadow over the whole city. (Ok, slight exaggeration written mainly for effect... Maybe it was just the small 'provence' in which said restaurant was located that seemed shadowed, or maybe I was just gloomy for having to be at work. Either way, these digressions are hardly relevant to the story). The bleak atmosphere outside and eerie dull ambience inside (coupled with my apparent apathetic mood at the time), took me straight back to the heart-wrenching battlefields of Glencoe...
My Scotish Tour guide was the most patriotic person I have ever met. You would be hard-pressed to find somebody who knows more about everything pertaining to Scotland than she does. Unlike many of my other tour guides, rather than just regurgitating the same old information, memorised word-for-word from Wikipedia, she actually told us stories, made the history interesting and witty and romantic and comedic all at the same time. She made Scotland seem like the most enchanting and magical place in the world. Until Glencoe.
Picture this: we arrive in a tiny little 12 seater bus and park on the side of a one lane highway, in the middle of what seems like nowhere. To appreciate how 'in the middle of nowhere' it really was, you have understand that Scotland is the least densely populated country in the whole of Europe, and Glencoe is in the Highlands, which is practically not populated at all. Anyway, we pull over on the side of the road, completely unaware of where we are, pile out of the bus, and find ourselves standing infront of this eerie, hair-on-the-back-of-your-neck-raising mountain range. (Not all that strange considering Scotland is famous for its rugged country side.) It was overcast, and drizzling, and cold (which shouldn't come as much of a surprise either) and there was a heavy mist (low-hanging cloud if you don't want to romanticise it, although mist sounds much more thrilling) that was just seemingly floating accross the tips of the mountains.
So we follow our tour guide across a rickety little brige...
...along an overgrown path, and trudge our way halfway up the mountain side (in the cold and rain and 'mist' I might add),
...to stand under a small ledge of overhanging cliff, barely able to see three feet ahead of us. It was under this ledge, in the spine-tingling quiet and isolation, that she told us a story of the massacre that had taken place at the very same location, hundreds of years beforehand. The image of that picturesque mountain 'glen', (previously so majestic and beautiful to the untrained tourists' mind), now haunting, and the silence deafening.
In 1692 to be exact...
The MacIan clan of GlenCoe (a small sect of the MacDonald clan), one dreadful night, extended their hospitality to a group of travelling Government officials. The officials drank their beer, ate their food, and slept in their beds, for 12 whole days. Little did the MacIans know however, that these officials were infact the enemy Campbell clan, with whom they had been fighting with over petty disputes for years.
I don't know (or completely comprehend) all the gritty details, but true to Scotland's gruesome history, there was some controversy (and of course many a battle) over the King, and his rules, at the time. The Jacobites (a group of rebels trying to overthrow the King) had an influence, and if British History is anything to go by, the battle at Glencoe, although not for the throne specifically, was nothing short of a battle over allegiance to the King standing on it.
At sunrise on the 13 February 1692, The Cambpell Clan, who had knowingly AND willingly, accepted the hospitality and offerings, not to mention friendship of the MacIan Clan, with whom thay had been staying, of whose beer they had been drinking, food they had been eating, and beds they had been sleeping in; on the 12th morning, then turned around and slaughtered them, in cold blood, on direct order of the King.
38 people were killed that morning.
Further to that, hundreds of people fled into the snow covered hills, where some 40 more ended up dying of cold, hunger or both.
When it was over, the King was angry that any escaped at all.
The people of Scotland, (and all of Britain) were so rocked by the Cambells' cruelty, that the massacre gave rise to a whole new brand of evil; 'Murder Under Trust', which is precisely what the Battle of GlenCoe was.
To this day, Campbell's are still not welcome in Glencoe.
If that's not chilling, I can't tell you what is.
Don't say I didn't warn you... My imagination has surpassed hyperactive. It has ADHD.
I'm not saying that I 'imagined' that whole story, look up any history book and you'll find it, I guess it's more that no matter where I am, I can find a way to connect myself to somewhere i've been... (or where I'd like to be again)
Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe it's escapism. Maybe I am clinically insane. I don't really know. All I know is, my head is full of amazingly vivid memories and images, yet ask me what I had for breakfast and I would be hard-pressed to tell you. Ask me what my phone number is and you'll be fresh out of luck. (I do remember my name though, so that one is generally a winner).
I remember one Summer evening at work, I looked up, and for a fleeting moment, thought that I was back in Scotland.
I was actually in the middle of an empty restaurant... After closing.
Let me explain.
The restaurant I worked at, had tinted, ceiling to floor windows, running the length of an entire wall. The Venetian blinds were practically always open (unless requested otherwise), to ensure customers were given the optimum view of the exquisite suburbia that the restaurant looked out onto. As I am sure you can appreciate, the superbly mismatched picket fences, fading brick veneers, and vast array of rusting (not to be confused with rustic) letter boxes, really set the mood for a romantic dining experience, (and apparently work like a charm, for those with imaginations as overactive as mine).
This one particular night, there was a looming dark cloud, casting a grey shadow over the whole city. (Ok, slight exaggeration written mainly for effect... Maybe it was just the small 'provence' in which said restaurant was located that seemed shadowed, or maybe I was just gloomy for having to be at work. Either way, these digressions are hardly relevant to the story). The bleak atmosphere outside and eerie dull ambience inside (coupled with my apparent apathetic mood at the time), took me straight back to the heart-wrenching battlefields of Glencoe...
My Scotish Tour guide was the most patriotic person I have ever met. You would be hard-pressed to find somebody who knows more about everything pertaining to Scotland than she does. Unlike many of my other tour guides, rather than just regurgitating the same old information, memorised word-for-word from Wikipedia, she actually told us stories, made the history interesting and witty and romantic and comedic all at the same time. She made Scotland seem like the most enchanting and magical place in the world. Until Glencoe.
Picture this: we arrive in a tiny little 12 seater bus and park on the side of a one lane highway, in the middle of what seems like nowhere. To appreciate how 'in the middle of nowhere' it really was, you have understand that Scotland is the least densely populated country in the whole of Europe, and Glencoe is in the Highlands, which is practically not populated at all. Anyway, we pull over on the side of the road, completely unaware of where we are, pile out of the bus, and find ourselves standing infront of this eerie, hair-on-the-back-of-your-neck-raising mountain range. (Not all that strange considering Scotland is famous for its rugged country side.) It was overcast, and drizzling, and cold (which shouldn't come as much of a surprise either) and there was a heavy mist (low-hanging cloud if you don't want to romanticise it, although mist sounds much more thrilling) that was just seemingly floating accross the tips of the mountains.
So we follow our tour guide across a rickety little brige...
...along an overgrown path, and trudge our way halfway up the mountain side (in the cold and rain and 'mist' I might add),
...to stand under a small ledge of overhanging cliff, barely able to see three feet ahead of us. It was under this ledge, in the spine-tingling quiet and isolation, that she told us a story of the massacre that had taken place at the very same location, hundreds of years beforehand. The image of that picturesque mountain 'glen', (previously so majestic and beautiful to the untrained tourists' mind), now haunting, and the silence deafening.
In 1692 to be exact...
The MacIan clan of GlenCoe (a small sect of the MacDonald clan), one dreadful night, extended their hospitality to a group of travelling Government officials. The officials drank their beer, ate their food, and slept in their beds, for 12 whole days. Little did the MacIans know however, that these officials were infact the enemy Campbell clan, with whom they had been fighting with over petty disputes for years.
I don't know (or completely comprehend) all the gritty details, but true to Scotland's gruesome history, there was some controversy (and of course many a battle) over the King, and his rules, at the time. The Jacobites (a group of rebels trying to overthrow the King) had an influence, and if British History is anything to go by, the battle at Glencoe, although not for the throne specifically, was nothing short of a battle over allegiance to the King standing on it.
At sunrise on the 13 February 1692, The Cambpell Clan, who had knowingly AND willingly, accepted the hospitality and offerings, not to mention friendship of the MacIan Clan, with whom thay had been staying, of whose beer they had been drinking, food they had been eating, and beds they had been sleeping in; on the 12th morning, then turned around and slaughtered them, in cold blood, on direct order of the King.
38 people were killed that morning.
Further to that, hundreds of people fled into the snow covered hills, where some 40 more ended up dying of cold, hunger or both.
When it was over, the King was angry that any escaped at all.
The people of Scotland, (and all of Britain) were so rocked by the Cambells' cruelty, that the massacre gave rise to a whole new brand of evil; 'Murder Under Trust', which is precisely what the Battle of GlenCoe was.
To this day, Campbell's are still not welcome in Glencoe.
If that's not chilling, I can't tell you what is.
Don't say I didn't warn you... My imagination has surpassed hyperactive. It has ADHD.
I'm not saying that I 'imagined' that whole story, look up any history book and you'll find it, I guess it's more that no matter where I am, I can find a way to connect myself to somewhere i've been... (or where I'd like to be again)
Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe it's escapism. Maybe I am clinically insane. I don't really know. All I know is, my head is full of amazingly vivid memories and images, yet ask me what I had for breakfast and I would be hard-pressed to tell you. Ask me what my phone number is and you'll be fresh out of luck. (I do remember my name though, so that one is generally a winner).
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Some of my favourite places.....
~Caorle, Italy.
...Where I spent many a day lazing around on the beach.
~Whitsunday Isalnd, QLD, Australia.
...Still my favourite place in the world.
~The Clachan, Soho, London.
... The pub I worked at.
~Pordenone, Italy.
... Where my Mum's family come from / live.
~Trieste, Italy.
...Where my Dad's family come from / live.
~Rugged Scottish beach.
...One of the most beautiful countries in the UK.
~Prague
...View from the climb to Prague Castle
~Acton Park in Spring, London.
...The park accross the road from my house over Easter.
~ Valley of the Kings, Egypt
... Sunrise in a Hot Air Balloon.
~Cornwall, England.
...the 'accidental' coastal cliff route from Porthtowan to St Ives.
~Corfu, Greek Islands.
...The besk Greek dinner I have ever eaten was at the end of this Pier.
~ Melbourne, Australia
...Home (the place where I hang my proverbial hat, but not necessarily where my heart is)
Invictus - William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Gypsy Caravan Playlist 02/01/2010
Full Force Gale - Van Morrison
You Make My Dreams - Hall & Oates
On A Day - Jesse Harris
One Way Road - John Butler Trio
Smile - Harry Connick Jr
Sugartown - Zooey Deshcanel
He Found Out - Sophie Koh
Pot Kettle Black - Wilco
Never Going Back Down - Fleetwood Mac
Rise - Eddie Vedder
Is This How Love's Supposed To Feel - Ben Lee
Evil Tonight - Renee Geyer
The King Of Carrot Flowers - Neutral Milk Hotel
But My Head Told My Heart - Mumford & Sons
Distant Dreamer - Duffy
Why Do You Let Me Stay Here - She & Him
Bixby Canyon Bridge - Death Cab For Cutie
Carve Your Hear Out Yourself - Dashboard Confessional
Careless Love - Madeleine Peyroux
Benny And The Jets - Elton John
Mansard Roof - Vampire Weekend
Lulu's Back In Town - Tm Baker
Us - Regina Spektor
Feeling The Same Way - Norah Jones
Too Darn Hot - Ella Fitzgerald
Lonely Day - Phantom Planet
Calloway Boogie - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
You Make My Dreams - Hall & Oates
On A Day - Jesse Harris
One Way Road - John Butler Trio
Smile - Harry Connick Jr
Sugartown - Zooey Deshcanel
He Found Out - Sophie Koh
Pot Kettle Black - Wilco
Never Going Back Down - Fleetwood Mac
Rise - Eddie Vedder
Is This How Love's Supposed To Feel - Ben Lee
Evil Tonight - Renee Geyer
The King Of Carrot Flowers - Neutral Milk Hotel
But My Head Told My Heart - Mumford & Sons
Distant Dreamer - Duffy
Why Do You Let Me Stay Here - She & Him
Bixby Canyon Bridge - Death Cab For Cutie
Carve Your Hear Out Yourself - Dashboard Confessional
Careless Love - Madeleine Peyroux
Benny And The Jets - Elton John
Mansard Roof - Vampire Weekend
Lulu's Back In Town - Tm Baker
Us - Regina Spektor
Feeling The Same Way - Norah Jones
Too Darn Hot - Ella Fitzgerald
Lonely Day - Phantom Planet
Calloway Boogie - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
Gypsy Caravan Playlist 27/12/2009
Caravan - Van Morrison
Errol - James Reyne
Headlights On The Hills - Nathan Gaunt
Desert In The Moonlight - Loren & The Grow Your Owns
Panic - Charles Baby
Release - George
Anytime - Neil Finn
Don't You Change A Thing - Aaron Roberts
I Remember - Whitley
Mother Greer - Augie March
The Devil Was In My Yard - The Sleepy Jackson
The Sailor - Jess McAvoy
The Basic Rules - Lucie Thorne
Grown Folk - Andy Bull
Down The Line - Jose Gonzales
Shelter From The Storm - Bob Dylan
Love In The Lies - Amos Lee
On A Day - Jesse Harris
Oxford Comma - Vampire Weekend
One (Blake's Got A New Face) - Vampire Weekend
All Over Now - Eric Hutchinson
Errol - James Reyne
Headlights On The Hills - Nathan Gaunt
Desert In The Moonlight - Loren & The Grow Your Owns
Panic - Charles Baby
Release - George
Anytime - Neil Finn
Don't You Change A Thing - Aaron Roberts
I Remember - Whitley
Mother Greer - Augie March
The Devil Was In My Yard - The Sleepy Jackson
The Sailor - Jess McAvoy
The Basic Rules - Lucie Thorne
Grown Folk - Andy Bull
Down The Line - Jose Gonzales
Shelter From The Storm - Bob Dylan
Love In The Lies - Amos Lee
On A Day - Jesse Harris
Oxford Comma - Vampire Weekend
One (Blake's Got A New Face) - Vampire Weekend
All Over Now - Eric Hutchinson
Gypsy Caravan Playlist 20/12/2009
Caravan - Van Morrison
The Melbourne Way -Frankie Wants Out
Louie - Ida Maria
Forevermore - Katie Herzig
The One Who Loves You The Most - Brett Dennen
Happy - Nevershoutnever!
Empy Days - Augustana
Heartbreaker - Matt Wertz
Hand Me Downs - Bob Evans
Love Cats - Jamie Cullum & Katie Melua
Astair - Matt Costa
Ripe - Ben Lee
Sweet Thursday - Matt Costa
It's Only Life - Kate Voegele
Small Town Girl - Journey
Shake Rattle & Roll - Bill Haley & The Comets
Lucille - Little Richard
Red Hot - Jimmy Barnes
I'm Walking - Fats Domino
Hi Ho Silver Lining - Jeff Beck
Reelin' & a Rockin - Chick Berry
Twist Again - Chubby Checker
Pencil Full of Lead - Paolo Nutini
Nowhere Man - The Beatles
10/10 - Paolo Nutini
Johnny Be Good - Jerry Lee Lewis
Calloway Boogie - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
Baby You're Got What It Takes - Michael Buble
I Get A Kick Out Of You - Frank Sinatra
The Melbourne Way -Frankie Wants Out
Louie - Ida Maria
Forevermore - Katie Herzig
The One Who Loves You The Most - Brett Dennen
Happy - Nevershoutnever!
Empy Days - Augustana
Heartbreaker - Matt Wertz
Hand Me Downs - Bob Evans
Love Cats - Jamie Cullum & Katie Melua
Astair - Matt Costa
Ripe - Ben Lee
Sweet Thursday - Matt Costa
It's Only Life - Kate Voegele
Small Town Girl - Journey
Shake Rattle & Roll - Bill Haley & The Comets
Lucille - Little Richard
Red Hot - Jimmy Barnes
I'm Walking - Fats Domino
Hi Ho Silver Lining - Jeff Beck
Reelin' & a Rockin - Chick Berry
Twist Again - Chubby Checker
Pencil Full of Lead - Paolo Nutini
Nowhere Man - The Beatles
10/10 - Paolo Nutini
Johnny Be Good - Jerry Lee Lewis
Calloway Boogie - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
Baby You're Got What It Takes - Michael Buble
I Get A Kick Out Of You - Frank Sinatra
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