The MacAlba

On this morning’s drive into town (it takes a bit under 30 minutes to go from door to door - and 27 km) I listened to a recording of last week’s (June 14th) edition of Mary Ann Kennedy’s Celtic Connections on BBC Radio Scotland. The very first track on the show was an eye- (or ear-) opener, an energiser and foot-tapper. It was a bagpiping piece, contemporary, fast and innovative. The piper’s name was given as Mark Saul.

We humans have a tendency to put things into slots and categories (even on this blog), and my first thought was to think “he’s a Martyn Bennett or a Paul Mounsey”. Sorry, Mark, you’re a Mark Saul.

The track played on Celtic Connections was “Forget the Golden Rules” from Mark’s “Mixolydian” CD. I’m pretty sure some piping traditionalists may think that Mark broke the rules! And, boy, am I glad he did.

On visiting Mark’s web site I discovered that’s he’s based in Melbourne - a mere 1000 km from here - with an interesting history in the piping scene.

There’s not much more for me to say to say given that I’ve only heard the one track, but based on that I’m heading off to order the CD. Thanks be to Celtic Connections.

I was listening to a recording of Robbie Shepherd’s Reel Blend program from BBC Radio Scotland this morning as I drove in to work when I heard “The last trip home”, a ballad about the last day of work for a pair of Clydesdale horses, as sung by Jock Duncan. The tractor was going to replace them tilling and ploughing.

So steady, boys, walk on,
Oor work is nearly done,
No more we'll till or plough the fields,
The horses' day is gone,
An' this will be oor last trip home,
So steady, boys, walk on.

As we head back our friends have lined
The road tae see us one last time,
Not one o' them will want tae miss,
The chance tae see us pass like this,
They'll say they saw in years tae come,
The muckle horses' last trip home.

My, what powerful images and emotion that invoked. Sadness that the gentle giants would no longer be a part of the normal day on the farm. My own great-grandparents had a farm on what is now the outskirts of Aberdeen. I never knew them and I don’t even know if they had Clydesdales, but I like to think that there’s still some link in me to that way of life. I have a soft spot for heavy horses, Clydesdales in particular.

Here’s a photograph I took at an agricultural show here in Armidale towards the end of last year.

Over the past few years I’ve gained experience with Microsoft Windows XP, RedHat Linux (Fedora), Debian-based Ubuntu Linux, and the Mach/FreeBSD-based Mac OS X operating systems on various laptop computers.

It will come as no surprise, I imagine, for anybody to learn that the least reliable was WinXP. Both the Linux and Unix operating systems acquitted themselves admirably in operation. Indeed, the Mac PowerBook I’m currently typing on has never crashed in the 6 months I’ve had it. I’ve had to reboot it a few times after applying certain software updates, but it’s given no unexpected equivalent of the “blue screen of death”.

The version of RedHat Linux that I tested required me to tweak the video configuration to get X-windows working at optimal resolution, but thereafter it was fine.

Of special note is the Ubuntu linux distribution. Unlike WinXP, Ubuntu installed itself on a Dell X200 laptop and managed to select appropriate drivers for the video, sound and wireless cards. In contrast, after installing WinXP on the Dell X200 laptop, several additional Dell-supplied drivers had to be manually applied, one after the other - a tedious, moderately non-intuitive process. Ubuntu is living proof that linux distributions have matured. Ubuntu is all but ready for the average computer user.

There’s not much in it, but for the non-technologist out looking to purchase a new computer, unless they have specialist software requirements, I’d recommend an Apple Macintosh system. For somebody who’s not afraid to experiment a little, I’d recommend Ubuntu linux.

Either of the above will give a more virus-free existence than the Microsoft alternative.

Atypically, even for this part of the world in winter, it was cold and windy during the day today. The maximum temperature was about 8 degrees C (47F), with a 30 to 40 km/hr wind. Add to that the fact that I’m just at the peak of the head cold I’ve had for a few days now, and so it was a fairly miserable Sunday.

I know perfectly well that I’ll be fine in a couple of days, but it’s hard to get the energy to do much at the moment — so I haven’t.

Other than walk the dogs this morning (yes, walk, not jog), and chop the firewood for the coming week, all I’ve done with myself today is to catch up with items on the blogs I subscribe to, and tidy up my other two blog installations (having installed the latest version of WordPress yesterday). I’ve chosen to run with the same theme (or “look”) for all three blogs - at least for the time being.

I’ve just finished listening to the June 9 on-demand edition of Travelling Folk, a program from BBC Radio Scotland, presented by Archie Fisher. I listen a handful of BBC Radio Scotland programs on a weekly basis - Travelling Folk is one of them.

Archie Fisher interviewed Eric Bogle, a Scot now resident in Adelaide, South Australia. One of the reasons for the interview was that EMI have recently released a 5-CD set which showcases Bogle’s several decades as a performer. I’ve been a fan of Bogle’s since the 1980’s when I first heard him. During the course of the interview, a sentiment that caused me to reflect on my own situation was Bogle’s comment that Australia, rather than Scotland, is “home”. He’s been here for over 35 years. In my own case I think of myself as a Scot (I’ve not become an Australian citizen even after 26 years in the country), and, to some extent, I tend think of Scotland as “home”. Under what circumstances might I think of Australia as “home”?

The answer, I think, is “it depends”. I do recall thinking “I’m home” on returning to Australia after visiting Scotland last time (over 10 years ago). I also felt “at home” when in Scotland. Perhaps, for me, “home” is where I am comfortably settled at a given point in time?

I spent two years in Sydney (in 1997/8) - I can’t say that I ever thought of that as “home”. Does that mean that I wasn’t comfortably settled there?

So, it would seem that “home” is where the heart is - but it’s just that the heart moves around a bit that confuses the issue at times.

As a young lad in Aberdeen, I think I was put off eating porridge because the traditional (at least in our household) accompaniment was a sprinkling of salt over the top. It’s only a vague memory but I’m sure mother ate porridge that way, and that was the way it was.

Now, much later in life, I’ve rediscovered the wholesomeness of oatmeal porridge. Or perhaps, more accurately, I’ve discovered it for the first time.

Being someone who values traditions (well, some of them), I don’t make my breakfast porridge from packaged, rolled oats, but rather from steel-cut oats (also called pin-head oats).

The measurements I’ve come to use, by trial and error, are, by volume, in the ratio 1-to-4. 1 part oatmeal, to 4 parts water. For a single portion this translates to 1/4 cup of oatmeal, and 1 cup of water. By weight, 50 grams oatmeal, and 250 grams of water.

I measure the oatmeal into a pan, boil the water, add it to the oatmeal, stir the mixture to break up any dry clumps of oatmeal, cover the pan, set it aside, and then go jogging with the dogs. If you don’t want to go jogging, or take the dogs for a walk, just leave the pan, oatmeal and water for an hour or so to “steep”.

When you’re ready to make the porridge, bring the mixture to the boil, stirring frequently, then simmer for 6 or 7 minutes, again stirring frequently. The result should be a thick gluten-ey mass.

I serve the porridge with 3 dessert-spoonfuls of unprocessed wheat bran, a topping of fruit, and a couple of spoonfuls of natural yogurt. Hmmm, I wonder what if would be like if I also mixed a handful or raisins in there too?