December, the final month of the Gregorian calendar year, known in South Africa as the month of the Mimosa Thorn Tree, whilst pagans in the North move from Litha to Yule, crossing the Winter Solstice. And of course the time of year when religious folk forget about the pagan festival that they steamrolled over with Christmas – but then if there is a reason to agree with Dawkins that religion is such a bad thing the Magdalene Laundries are a fine example.
Scott’s Of Selkirk is a local Borders festival where most of the inhabitants of Selkirk dress up in victorian costumes and offer free mulled wine and mince pies whilst you browse their goods. It is bizarre seeming the juxtapoisiton of an electronic cash machine and a queue of Victorians waiting to use it. By lunchtime I was ready to sing in the choir…. but instead fuelled on sherry I bought books on Myths, Suicide and Castration (Freud). We had coffee at the Selkirk Deli sharing a table with an 86 year old lady who told us she was looking for a man, possibly in the new Tesco, and her friend in a wimple sold us a Scocha CD (her husband is the English chap masquarading as a Scot in a leather kilt) and answered her mobile phone in Victorian garb which buzzed from her matching muffler. Had a tour of Squirrel’s loft and on returning to the Gutbusting casino night, where my strategy of card counting was offset by the dealers shuffling, I picked up a bottle of wine and spiced Westphalia chicken at the BP garage on the A68, which is pretending to be a wine shop (reinforcing Lothian and Borders Police Don’t Drink and Drive policy) with Petit-Chablis and decent clarets. Discovered that one of our fellow GutBusters uses the school bus driver/hypnotist to stop smoking.
December will be Soay’s Choice – where we pick the sheep to be dragged to the abattoir in Galashiels (who recently had a highland bull escaping down the street almost killing an old man). November is normally slaughter month but things are a bit late this year thanks to the warmer weather.
My dog and wife and fallen out – when Kim sits down the dog leaves the room and when she leaves the room Cara returns.
December is very blood thirsty as I wade through movies (Nosferatu, Vampyr, Blacula, Dracula) and books including Dracula’s Guest the unpublished first chapter of Dracula, Carmilla, Dr Polidori’s Vampyr based on Byron’s fragment.
All I want for Christmas is my front tooth – finally my dentist fitted my bridge (in between taking other teeth out from women playing musical chairs in the waiting room). We lunched at the Blue Bell Hotel (which was challenging with half my mouth frozen) and on walking to the car spied a chap in black with a black top hat walking down the middle of the main street in Belford followed by a hearse – it was a most errie and bizarre sight, no following cars, no-one else around.
As flattered as I was that Schmap had chosen my photographs of St Mary’s Church, Whitby, for their tourist guide – I was surprised to see such sloppy research that they used it to represent St Mary’s Church in York (which unless global warming has really changed things is nowhere near the sea shown in the photographs).
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In a microlight (Quicktime VR shot)
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Robert Ashley’s Automatic Writing wins the prize for ‘Least Festive’ music – being about Tourette’s syndrome and sexual abuse (not at the same time).
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Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Don we now our gay apparel,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la.
Troll the ancient Yule tide carol,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
See the blazing Yule before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Strike the harp and join the chorus.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Follow me in merry measure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
While I tell of Yule tide treasure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Fast away the old year passes,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Hail the new, ye lads and lasses,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Sing we joyous, all together,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Heedless of the wind and weather,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
