Well it has been a couple of months since I last expressed my thoughts and feelings here. A couple of cold, dark and wet months of a winter that is now moving behind us and making way for the time of reviving and renewal, with longer and brighter days, we welcome Spring. Sun at dawn to break our day. There can be nothing quite like sunshine in the morning to lift the spirit and encourage us to remember the wonder of nature and joy of living. Indeed we must catch these moments of brightness and savour them as they arise. There is so much benefit to be gained to our health and well being simply walking in the sun shine. This is sadly often lacking in our part of the world where our climate results in winters that seem to stretch and linger, such days are dark and dull. I believe this does contribute to our outlook and approach to life. We become focused on our climate and the weather. It's adversity dominates and dictates what and how we do things. We become preoccupied with defending against the prevailing wind and rain. Of course inevitably becoming the prime topic of our conversation. Now, I remember when I lived in Italy, back in those halcyon days after art school, there every day was reliably warm and dry. Meaning, simple things like deciding what to wear, each day, was easy, as each day was predictably good and pleasant. It never ceases to amaze me that when the weather is always good, with little or no variation, no-one needs to make any reference to the climatic conditions. People do not comment on the condition of the weather and other forms of ice breaking chat get deployed. I certainly loved my time there, and would go back in an instant. But I know I occasionally yearned for dramatic variation in the clear blue of the sky or warm dryness of each day.
The cheering aspect of a simple sunny day must never be underestimated, it is such a fundamental element of our lives and vital when we are presented with the sadness that constantly seems to follow us all as we progress in years. I am looking forward to the Spring and hoping that there will be some settled climatic conditions, to actually get back out in my garden and watch the wonder of nature's renewal, regrowth and recovery. What greater gift can there be?...All things bright and beautiful...
A gentle reflection on Saturday 4th March 2023.
KB
Saturday, 4 March 2023
Tuesday, 3 January 2023
3rd January 2023
As the 2022 Christmas Holiday now passes and we are looking to and hoping for a better, healthier and happier year ahead, in 2023... I feel my usual yearning for the brighter and more active days of spring. It is driven by a deep passion to get creative again (for me that would be drawing, painting, writing, gardening, cooking, designing, even thinking!). In the positive knowledge that there is an inherent healing to be gained in the natural cycle of living. Soon the sap will be rising in the trees and the leaf buds preparing for capturing the extra sun light. But equally soon, possibly sooner our lives will need to begin the return to the labours and endeavours of so called normality. We need to be optimistic when looking to the future. I know only too well the effort that this entails. As the last couple of years have certainly been a challenge of sadness and loss, for myself and many people for whom I care.
The festive holiday that now passes into it's own history, actually marked the fiftieth that our family has had in this home, in Newton Street, Stornoway. The place is a considerably quieter one now. Our parents thrived on the hospitality of the season, the extra place setting at the table was always filled. There was a constant fire crackling in the hearth and the oven yielded a continuing production of roasts, vegetables and fresh festive baking. There was music, voice and merriment... But, sadly, it no longer heaves with such partying. I well remember these parties and the happy people who enjoyed them through the years. Perhaps, who knows, I might yet regain the energy required to celebrate future anniversaries, events and parties. I also thrive on same hospitality given by my parents.
As I reflect on this festive holiday, I am reminded of another, equally full of hope. On this day six years ago, 3rd January 2017, I left the warmth and comfort of my Dear Mother's home to head back to my Glasgow flat for the last time. There with the help of two of my brother's and nephews, I began the task of finally clearing that old place. It had been my home and studio of work for almost forty years. Just as our parents had in Stornoway, my Glasgow home was one of hospitality. Over the years I held lots of parties and welcomed many guests. The table was served with the same traditional extra setting, it was also always filled. But despite all these years I never actually spent a Christmas Day there, I always returned to sit at that special dinner with my Dear Mother. On my very last day, in that old flat, Friday 20th January 2017, everything and everybody gone, I was left completely on my own. Prior to handing the keys to the estate agent, for the new owner. I quietly stole a most precious moment, to wander through those empty rooms, which seemed so filled with the sound of friendly laughter and familiar voice. As my head cleared, I stepped over the threshold and gently pulled the eight foot door shut, then turned the lock for my last time. One era, with all it's memories had just past, almost symbolically and I was keen to move swiftly on to my next. The following day I returned to Stornoway, this had long been planned and I happily embraced my future. So many aspects have indeed been and continue to be bright and wonderful. Such a thought actually keeps me going...
Here's to the future, here's to 2023.
Reflections of this time of year, Tuesday 3rd January 2023
KB
The festive holiday that now passes into it's own history, actually marked the fiftieth that our family has had in this home, in Newton Street, Stornoway. The place is a considerably quieter one now. Our parents thrived on the hospitality of the season, the extra place setting at the table was always filled. There was a constant fire crackling in the hearth and the oven yielded a continuing production of roasts, vegetables and fresh festive baking. There was music, voice and merriment... But, sadly, it no longer heaves with such partying. I well remember these parties and the happy people who enjoyed them through the years. Perhaps, who knows, I might yet regain the energy required to celebrate future anniversaries, events and parties. I also thrive on same hospitality given by my parents.
As I reflect on this festive holiday, I am reminded of another, equally full of hope. On this day six years ago, 3rd January 2017, I left the warmth and comfort of my Dear Mother's home to head back to my Glasgow flat for the last time. There with the help of two of my brother's and nephews, I began the task of finally clearing that old place. It had been my home and studio of work for almost forty years. Just as our parents had in Stornoway, my Glasgow home was one of hospitality. Over the years I held lots of parties and welcomed many guests. The table was served with the same traditional extra setting, it was also always filled. But despite all these years I never actually spent a Christmas Day there, I always returned to sit at that special dinner with my Dear Mother. On my very last day, in that old flat, Friday 20th January 2017, everything and everybody gone, I was left completely on my own. Prior to handing the keys to the estate agent, for the new owner. I quietly stole a most precious moment, to wander through those empty rooms, which seemed so filled with the sound of friendly laughter and familiar voice. As my head cleared, I stepped over the threshold and gently pulled the eight foot door shut, then turned the lock for my last time. One era, with all it's memories had just past, almost symbolically and I was keen to move swiftly on to my next. The following day I returned to Stornoway, this had long been planned and I happily embraced my future. So many aspects have indeed been and continue to be bright and wonderful. Such a thought actually keeps me going...
Here's to the future, here's to 2023.
Reflections of this time of year, Tuesday 3rd January 2023
KB
Thursday, 3 November 2022
In memory of my father's 90th birthday
Despite the cold, dark and damp of the season, I wish to reflect on the life and times of a very special, bright and dynamic person. William Burns, Marine Engineer, (1932 -1993).
Today, 3rd November 2022, would have been our father Willie Burns' 90th birthday. I find it virtually impossible to imagine him that age, as he was only sixty and a half, younger than I am now, when he was suddenly taken away. So my image and memory of him are of an active, indeed lively fellow. His life was a busy endeavour of work and preparing for work. He thrived on the challenges of fixing and repairing, all things engineering. He was a perfectionist in all that he attempted and he loved to encourage excellence in the pursuits of others. He was my greatest critic, he was a wonderful draftsman and I really respected all that he said about my drawing. We all miss him so very much.
He was born in Queensland, Australia, in a town called Howard, his family emigrated, "down under" in 1927.
He was two when he first arrived in the UK.
He spent his teenage years in Joppa, near Portobello, Edinburgh, where he and his friends became professional jazz musicians. He was a drummer, initially learning his skills in a local pipe band. Then progressing to a traditional jazz band called Sandy Brown's. He also became an engineering apprentice at the Henry Robb Ship Yard in Leith. His father advising him to pursue engineering as a more reliable career. He finished off his apprenticeship as an engineer in the Stornoway firm of Lewis Electrical and Diesel. Soon after completion, he signed up with the shipping company of Alfred Holt's, fondly known as "The Blue Flu Line", named after the famous blue funnels.
He quickly advanced through his Marine Engineering qualifications at sea, becoming one of the youngest to gain a Chief Engineers Qualification at the age of 24 years. Though, he was required to wait for a whole year as the company were not able to insure him to take that command before that time.
He met our mother Barbara Ena MacLeod, in Stornoway, on Christmas Eve 1955, they got engaged on 11th November 1956, and were married in Stornoway, on 12th March 1958.
Like so many young couples of that time, Willie and Barbara, moved around, in various places before returning to settle in Lewis, just prior to the birth of the first, of their four sons, early in 1960. Willie began working in the family business Stephen Burns Limited, a Harris Tweed Mill, in Stornoway.
In 1974, he started his own business, an industrial and marine engineering company, in humble beginnings at the rear of the family home. Over the years he built up the business and acquired a fine reputation for diligence and excellence. He was particularly proud of the workforce that he trained, from junior apprentices to skilled engineers. In return he had a very dedicated and loyal team. The workshop moved twice.
Sadly on the morning of 5th May 1993, he suffered a massive heart attack, at his workshop at 38 Inaclete Road, Stornoway, He died shortly afterwards in the Western Isles Hospital.
In fond remembrance and reflection.
Saturday, 22 October 2022
22nd October 2022
People and places are the vital elements of the memories and emotions that make up and contribute to all our lives. We enjoy our families, relatives and friends, and select the environments where we are happy to live and work. These are aspects of life we all hold dear and value very much. In fact we actually try to protect and prolong for as much as possible all that we enjoy, especially the people that populate our lives. But as we journey through life we have to continually contend with the stark and sad reality brought about when we lose those special people that we love... Obviously the progression of age means that losing those special people will grow and this is not something that we can actually ever get used to...
Over recent years, months and weeks I have, personally, felt the heart break of losing many dear and much loved people...Each loss creatives an overwhelming sadness and each leaves a unique void....
Through this personal experience I have come to believe what we must do, when faced with the extreme sorrow of the loss of someone we loved, is focus on all the good and happy memories we have of them and being with them. This does more than simply lift our spirits, as such happy thoughts and memories of people are a positive contribution in the process of bereavement. Our shattered emotions need to heal. It is often said that time is a healer, though I am afraid I really do not feel that time can or does heal. Time takes us away from the initial impact of the shock of the loss
Just over a week ago, on Friday the 14th October 2022, I was in Glasgow to attend the funeral of Lorna, my dear sister in law. This was a most moving and beautiful commemoration of her life, lovingly organised by her four grieving sons. Lorna had many friends, and her loving kindness was well known to the people there who knew, loved and valued her. One very special feature of her funeral was the number of young people in attendance, the friends of her sons who, since their childhood, had always been so welcome in her home.
I knew Lorna for over forty years, we were good friends and she was most kind and supportive to me... It will take me a long time, if ever, to come to terms with the fact that she is no longer with us...I will do whatever I can to support each of my four nephews.
Some thoughts in reflection
KB 22 October 2022
Over recent years, months and weeks I have, personally, felt the heart break of losing many dear and much loved people...Each loss creatives an overwhelming sadness and each leaves a unique void....
Through this personal experience I have come to believe what we must do, when faced with the extreme sorrow of the loss of someone we loved, is focus on all the good and happy memories we have of them and being with them. This does more than simply lift our spirits, as such happy thoughts and memories of people are a positive contribution in the process of bereavement. Our shattered emotions need to heal. It is often said that time is a healer, though I am afraid I really do not feel that time can or does heal. Time takes us away from the initial impact of the shock of the loss
Just over a week ago, on Friday the 14th October 2022, I was in Glasgow to attend the funeral of Lorna, my dear sister in law. This was a most moving and beautiful commemoration of her life, lovingly organised by her four grieving sons. Lorna had many friends, and her loving kindness was well known to the people there who knew, loved and valued her. One very special feature of her funeral was the number of young people in attendance, the friends of her sons who, since their childhood, had always been so welcome in her home.
I knew Lorna for over forty years, we were good friends and she was most kind and supportive to me... It will take me a long time, if ever, to come to terms with the fact that she is no longer with us...I will do whatever I can to support each of my four nephews.
Some thoughts in reflection
KB 22 October 2022
Friday, 23 September 2022
23rd September 2022
As I said earlier in my last post I submitted some work to the local group exhibition Grinneas nan Eilean, in An Lanntair, Stornoway, which ran from the 25th July to 10th September 2022. The opening was on Saturday 23rd July. I had five items, the maximum, and actually only one with a price tag, which didn't sell. I was not at all concerned by that, as I had a much greater thing on my mind...
As, on Saturday 2nd July, my best friend in Glasgow, Roger Guthrie, passed away...the awful news left me completely stunned. He died of pancreatic cancer, it was simply vicious, in effect leaving only days from being diagnosed...Heart sore and filling with questions, I quickly had to find some positivity and focus on the happy and bright character of the wonderful friend I had lost. His two young daughters were looking to me to tell them some cheerful stories from his past. I was pleased to be able to give some good memories, leaving the gift of laughter and a smile.
I first met Roger in October 1979, within a month of my arrival in Glasgow. I had enrolled at the Glasgow School of Art, and was ready to discover as much about my adopted city as possible. To this end I had joined The New Glasgow Society, the country's leading civic amenity society, with a focus on the enhancement of the urban environment and architectural conservation. The society had been established in 1965, in reaction to the poor post war redevelopment and destruction of the nineteenth century architecture in Glasgow. I went along to one of the weekend events, I recall it involved scraping and painting an old church door, to raise awareness of its perilous state of disrepair. Roger was there and he stood out firstly because other than myself he was the youngest other member and secondly because of his distinct appearance. He had long thick black frizzy hair and sideburns, a drooping mustache but shaven chin. Stripped shirt and dark heavy corduroy trousers. He always carried a large very heavy bag often with his jacket stretched over it. He retained the same appearance always, the only change being his shinny black hair became grey. We became friends right away and I quickly learned that he had a certain and special social characteristic which is apparent in Dear Old Glasgow, where people seem to instantly include everyone around into their conversation. With Roger one was swept into his conversation as it emerged swiftly from his mind, he also spoke very fast, as if his speech was struggling to keep up with his thoughts . Within weeks of meeting him I was recruited into the New Glasgow Society's very own planning committee and trained by Roger to check planning applications, and special case work. An architect by training himself, he loved the fact the fact that I was enthusiastic and could draw. For years we met every Wednesday night at 6pm, along with several others. He became my best friend. When I was ill and required to spend a couple months in hospital in 1983, Roger Guthrie was a regular visitor. When he got married I was his best man...He was like another brother to me and so of course there are lots of amazing yarns to tell. He was a very special person, suffice to say the stories of his life were recorded in his obituary which was published in The Times (of London).
So, my life in Glasgow for nearly forty years was very much influenced and inspired by my friendship and association with my good and long standing friend Roger Guthrie. For me, that life had been fortunate in having the stability of a permanent home initially provided by my own parents, and subsequently bought from them by me. It was a very large Victorian West End flat, comprising nine apartments on the top floor and attic of a three storey tenement building, dating back to 1840. I had filled it with art and books.
One Saturday many years ago I went with Roger to the closing down sale at the head quarters of "the Co-op", in Morrison Street, under the Kingston Bridge on the south bank of the River Clyde. No messing; he quickly began the bidding for my purchase of a large architectural model, actually depicting an un-executed design for a shopping complex proposed, some years before, to adjoin the buildings in Morrison Street. I then took over and concluded the bidding. Then was faced with that reality how it would be transported to my flat a couple of miles away. Neither of us had our own transport then! Roger was ahead of me, and the large model was soon down in the lift and outside on Morrison Street. We loaded it on to a shopping trolley, and were on our way along the south bank of the Clyde. Then, across the bridge to Broomielaw and up James Watt Street to one of his commercial stores. All the way there to the amusements of people making their way home from an afternoon in the city, through the rush of Saturday traffic.
Several weeks later that large model found its way to my flat. "...it'll make a wonderful coffee table...", Roger tried to convince me. I finally wrestled it up the tight helix stair into my attic studio and laid it on end there. I removed the perspex cover, giving the sides to an neighbour to construct and cover small planters, for seedlings, for her garden. Then one day, not very long before leaving Glasgow, I had an inspired idea. The base of this model was actually very well made, with expensive materials and I had decided that I must make use of it. First I pulled off everything that could be removed. I now had a collection of fine cardboard scale models of some splendid Victorian buildings. The cardboard Kingston Bridge was hardly worth keeping, so it was chucked. The remainder I painted with white gesso primer. The ghostly shadows of the streets of The Tradeston District of Glasgow shone through the primer. The straight line of the South Bank of Glasgow's River Clyde, emerged as the Atlantic Horizon, in my new concept. As I began to paint the colours and shapes of one of my favourite Lewis beaches, Bosta in Great Bernera. Speaking to a friend of mine, a Latin teacher, she instantly loved the concept of painting a country landscape on a city grid and gave the work it's name "Urban in Campania" (The City in the Country). It became a very relevant and poignantly symbolic art work or painting as I began to make my move from my home and studio, in that old Glasgow flat and start a new life back in my native Isle of Lewis. I was full hope and looking forward helping my Dear Mother...
The painting continued acquiring colours and shapes for a few months after my return "home" to Lewis and then one day I dramatically decided it was complete. It suddenly felt finished. Then when I knew that the Grinneas nan Eilean, was going to be in July this year I mustered some confidence to submit this piece as one of my five. Now, when I heard that overwhelming news, that I had lost another great friend I simply dedicated this painting to his memory.
I feel that I still need to explain the story behind this painting, which I cannot part with...it is both sad and happy in equal measure. I can only think happy and optimistic thoughts when I think of my special friend, Roger Guthrie, who always saw the bright side and sought positivity. I was unable to attend his funeral, in July, but made a special trip to visit his widow and daughters in the first week of September. We managed to fill our time with recalling many happy memories.... RIP Roger.
I now enclose three photographs of the view of Bosta Beach, otherwise titled "Urban In Campania". Looking very carefully it is possible still to detect tug boats and small vessels on the Clyde, vehicles in the streets, and the architectural model makers' shrubs and bushes blended in urban grain of the streets. Then neutralized by my application of white gesso primer.
As, on Saturday 2nd July, my best friend in Glasgow, Roger Guthrie, passed away...the awful news left me completely stunned. He died of pancreatic cancer, it was simply vicious, in effect leaving only days from being diagnosed...Heart sore and filling with questions, I quickly had to find some positivity and focus on the happy and bright character of the wonderful friend I had lost. His two young daughters were looking to me to tell them some cheerful stories from his past. I was pleased to be able to give some good memories, leaving the gift of laughter and a smile.
I first met Roger in October 1979, within a month of my arrival in Glasgow. I had enrolled at the Glasgow School of Art, and was ready to discover as much about my adopted city as possible. To this end I had joined The New Glasgow Society, the country's leading civic amenity society, with a focus on the enhancement of the urban environment and architectural conservation. The society had been established in 1965, in reaction to the poor post war redevelopment and destruction of the nineteenth century architecture in Glasgow. I went along to one of the weekend events, I recall it involved scraping and painting an old church door, to raise awareness of its perilous state of disrepair. Roger was there and he stood out firstly because other than myself he was the youngest other member and secondly because of his distinct appearance. He had long thick black frizzy hair and sideburns, a drooping mustache but shaven chin. Stripped shirt and dark heavy corduroy trousers. He always carried a large very heavy bag often with his jacket stretched over it. He retained the same appearance always, the only change being his shinny black hair became grey. We became friends right away and I quickly learned that he had a certain and special social characteristic which is apparent in Dear Old Glasgow, where people seem to instantly include everyone around into their conversation. With Roger one was swept into his conversation as it emerged swiftly from his mind, he also spoke very fast, as if his speech was struggling to keep up with his thoughts . Within weeks of meeting him I was recruited into the New Glasgow Society's very own planning committee and trained by Roger to check planning applications, and special case work. An architect by training himself, he loved the fact the fact that I was enthusiastic and could draw. For years we met every Wednesday night at 6pm, along with several others. He became my best friend. When I was ill and required to spend a couple months in hospital in 1983, Roger Guthrie was a regular visitor. When he got married I was his best man...He was like another brother to me and so of course there are lots of amazing yarns to tell. He was a very special person, suffice to say the stories of his life were recorded in his obituary which was published in The Times (of London).
So, my life in Glasgow for nearly forty years was very much influenced and inspired by my friendship and association with my good and long standing friend Roger Guthrie. For me, that life had been fortunate in having the stability of a permanent home initially provided by my own parents, and subsequently bought from them by me. It was a very large Victorian West End flat, comprising nine apartments on the top floor and attic of a three storey tenement building, dating back to 1840. I had filled it with art and books.
One Saturday many years ago I went with Roger to the closing down sale at the head quarters of "the Co-op", in Morrison Street, under the Kingston Bridge on the south bank of the River Clyde. No messing; he quickly began the bidding for my purchase of a large architectural model, actually depicting an un-executed design for a shopping complex proposed, some years before, to adjoin the buildings in Morrison Street. I then took over and concluded the bidding. Then was faced with that reality how it would be transported to my flat a couple of miles away. Neither of us had our own transport then! Roger was ahead of me, and the large model was soon down in the lift and outside on Morrison Street. We loaded it on to a shopping trolley, and were on our way along the south bank of the Clyde. Then, across the bridge to Broomielaw and up James Watt Street to one of his commercial stores. All the way there to the amusements of people making their way home from an afternoon in the city, through the rush of Saturday traffic.
Several weeks later that large model found its way to my flat. "...it'll make a wonderful coffee table...", Roger tried to convince me. I finally wrestled it up the tight helix stair into my attic studio and laid it on end there. I removed the perspex cover, giving the sides to an neighbour to construct and cover small planters, for seedlings, for her garden. Then one day, not very long before leaving Glasgow, I had an inspired idea. The base of this model was actually very well made, with expensive materials and I had decided that I must make use of it. First I pulled off everything that could be removed. I now had a collection of fine cardboard scale models of some splendid Victorian buildings. The cardboard Kingston Bridge was hardly worth keeping, so it was chucked. The remainder I painted with white gesso primer. The ghostly shadows of the streets of The Tradeston District of Glasgow shone through the primer. The straight line of the South Bank of Glasgow's River Clyde, emerged as the Atlantic Horizon, in my new concept. As I began to paint the colours and shapes of one of my favourite Lewis beaches, Bosta in Great Bernera. Speaking to a friend of mine, a Latin teacher, she instantly loved the concept of painting a country landscape on a city grid and gave the work it's name "Urban in Campania" (The City in the Country). It became a very relevant and poignantly symbolic art work or painting as I began to make my move from my home and studio, in that old Glasgow flat and start a new life back in my native Isle of Lewis. I was full hope and looking forward helping my Dear Mother...
The painting continued acquiring colours and shapes for a few months after my return "home" to Lewis and then one day I dramatically decided it was complete. It suddenly felt finished. Then when I knew that the Grinneas nan Eilean, was going to be in July this year I mustered some confidence to submit this piece as one of my five. Now, when I heard that overwhelming news, that I had lost another great friend I simply dedicated this painting to his memory.
I feel that I still need to explain the story behind this painting, which I cannot part with...it is both sad and happy in equal measure. I can only think happy and optimistic thoughts when I think of my special friend, Roger Guthrie, who always saw the bright side and sought positivity. I was unable to attend his funeral, in July, but made a special trip to visit his widow and daughters in the first week of September. We managed to fill our time with recalling many happy memories.... RIP Roger.
I now enclose three photographs of the view of Bosta Beach, otherwise titled "Urban In Campania". Looking very carefully it is possible still to detect tug boats and small vessels on the Clyde, vehicles in the streets, and the architectural model makers' shrubs and bushes blended in urban grain of the streets. Then neutralized by my application of white gesso primer.
Thursday, 22 September 2022
22nd September 2022
The final flowering of summer 2022... It seems like an absolute age since I spent any moments musing and ruminating here... Just as it feels it was no time at all ago that we were all happily looking forward to the summer. I was bouyed by the activity of my own creative work and comments. Back in April I was trying to develop a blog and update my web site. Then my diary and work commitments kicked in and my time fled away. I am certainly not about to complain as I have had an extremely busy season with my Bed and Breakfast business. But it has actually been exhausting and the end of September will herald a welcome break. It will be a time to take stock and "rest" over the winter. I must apply as much positivity as I can muster to each day, but I find life now presents overwhelming sadness, of which there is little respite...
In May and June I was drawing and painting every day, and bristling with an energizing sence of inspiration. One Thursday morning I bumped into Mr Iain "Clendie" MacLennan, of Kenneth Street, Stornoway and his dear wife Moira, of course we got talking, and the conversation drifted to my family's association with Newton Street, Stornoway. Hearing one or two of the anecdotes of these colourful characters he invited me to write a history of my father's ancestors, The MacAulay/Burns, for the Stornoway Historical Society Journal, ("SY Gone By"). He said, "...Ah, but there's a catch, Cove, you see we'll need it to be ready for a week on...um! Tuesday". I calmy said that was "ok", went straight back into the house and prepared a seven page article with photographs and detailed information well on time. I love doing things like that, and my life has always been about slotting creative pursuits into tight deadlines. But as I grow older I prefer to respect a more gentle approach to treating our old friend Time.
I had also resolved this summer to submit work to the local group exhibition Grinneas nan Eilean, at An Lanntair Art Centre, in Stornoway. This is a most interesting show that has been around since before there was a designated space for showing art work in the town. Open to ALL is still the inclusive ethos. I did decide to put work that would be for sale, including one which had a very special poignancy in my life. The actual painting was the last one that I started in my former studio in the attic of my old flat in Glasgow. But - that story is for another post.
In May and June I was drawing and painting every day, and bristling with an energizing sence of inspiration. One Thursday morning I bumped into Mr Iain "Clendie" MacLennan, of Kenneth Street, Stornoway and his dear wife Moira, of course we got talking, and the conversation drifted to my family's association with Newton Street, Stornoway. Hearing one or two of the anecdotes of these colourful characters he invited me to write a history of my father's ancestors, The MacAulay/Burns, for the Stornoway Historical Society Journal, ("SY Gone By"). He said, "...Ah, but there's a catch, Cove, you see we'll need it to be ready for a week on...um! Tuesday". I calmy said that was "ok", went straight back into the house and prepared a seven page article with photographs and detailed information well on time. I love doing things like that, and my life has always been about slotting creative pursuits into tight deadlines. But as I grow older I prefer to respect a more gentle approach to treating our old friend Time.
I had also resolved this summer to submit work to the local group exhibition Grinneas nan Eilean, at An Lanntair Art Centre, in Stornoway. This is a most interesting show that has been around since before there was a designated space for showing art work in the town. Open to ALL is still the inclusive ethos. I did decide to put work that would be for sale, including one which had a very special poignancy in my life. The actual painting was the last one that I started in my former studio in the attic of my old flat in Glasgow. But - that story is for another post.
Saturday, 7 May 2022
On my 61st birthday
Well I would like to thank all of you who send me such kind birthday wishes, I had a lovely day to mark and celebrate my 61st. Collectively and happily you really cheered this "old" guy up. It was truly my kind of a day. I went out and about through the morning, then again in the afternoon. All the time meeting lots of lovely people, and in the evening had a lovely meal with a friend in the Harbour View Restaurant at the Crown Hotel. There I met more lovely people cousins and friends. Your lovely messages and kind thoughts kept on arriving and I really enjoyed reading them all and responding to each individually.
Like so many others, over the past two years, I have so missed the wonderful human interaction that was our social characteristic, and nature. It was certainly the hallmark of my up bringing. As I get older the real important aspects that matter in this beautiful world, we have been gifted, are those special kind and happy things that people share. with each other. The birthday wish and congratulation.
Thank you all, once again, for adding such a lot of happiness to my birthday, true to form it seems to be getting carried over into the weekend, as we have such a lovely sunny Saturday. KB
Like so many others, over the past two years, I have so missed the wonderful human interaction that was our social characteristic, and nature. It was certainly the hallmark of my up bringing. As I get older the real important aspects that matter in this beautiful world, we have been gifted, are those special kind and happy things that people share. with each other. The birthday wish and congratulation.
Thank you all, once again, for adding such a lot of happiness to my birthday, true to form it seems to be getting carried over into the weekend, as we have such a lovely sunny Saturday. KB
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