Postcard from Edinburgh

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I.

As the bus turns left from the East end of Princes Street, a macabre scene bleeds into one’s periphery like an incoming raincloud. The passengers look up out of the blindness of their touch-screens and crane their necks by the window-glass.

It can’t be. He was immortal…

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April: Postcards from Edinburgh, Glasgow and Strasbourg

Edinburgh – 03.04.16

The clock reads 02:59AM and my train is at 07:33AM, but my mind continues to reel round between my temples the pages of music that I don’t know, and my heartbeat is running away. I have tried every corner of the bed. I’ve crooked my back into countless different angles, spread my arms out under the pillows, listened to the radio, gone to the toilet, drank water …

Processed with VSCO with acg presetGood-morning

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No Man’s Land – thoughts on leaving school, music and law.

First official post of the summer holidays – how’s everyone faring? School ended about a week ago and it still hasn’t hit me yet.

We, the leavers, felt ready to say goodbye, especially those with destinations set in stone. Though a few of us, including me, are now walking through No Man’s Land.

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Meow for money

I saw a rather unusual sight when I went into town.

Along Princes Street one passes a variety of peculiar folk. As you go up, dipping in and out of each shop, you collide with students who spend their energy promoting charities, street performers doing a headstand in a bucket  and see  a fair number of homeless people selling Big Issues or sitting against the wall.

The world walks past and feels sympathetic to their situation. Yet hardly anyone ever drops a coin. After all that dog lying beside him with its protruding ribs makes you rather uncomfortable and scared. Maybe it will jump up, paw you and bite you. Then there are those who have ferrets, fast, wily creatures who manage to crawl everywhere.

No, you’d do better without that. You veer away and avoid proximity to prevent the unknown from happening.

But what if the animal sitting on the man is not a dog, a ferret or a dog-ferret. What if it’s a cat?

A domesticated creature. Elegant, midnight blue and poised on his knee, the only one of its kind in the middle of a bustling town. The man strokes its velvet fur. A very homely sight outside a redundant HMV.

Aw, you say to yourself. That man must be a nice man and cats are lovely wee things. I want to stroke it too.

Before you know it, one person has stepped out of the current and journeyed towards a wall to pat the cat. This woman interacted with the homeless man via feline counterpart and dropped not one, but two pounds into his hat.

What difference a small animal can make to the norms of the high street and the stereotypical image of a homeless man. Will I witness more of this in the future?

Two builders taking a tea break

As the skies begin to clear, the sun hat is being worn more often. This is good news. Soon I will be able to combine shorts, sandals and hat, and turn into a summer goddess.

But that day is a while yet. Edinburgh still manages to surprise us all by hitting our faces with rain. Running to a bus stop with a violin on your back is not fun, especially if it squeaks. The street noise in the heart of town can overwhelm the lilting iambic rhythm. Then turning into the quieter streets, the metal joints begin grinding their little ostinato again and I notice people giving me confused looks.

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Kite and the Crane (and exams…)

Last night I spent my evening playing violin for the wonderful Kite and the Crane as part of their EP launch. They’re an indie-folk band based in Edinburgh who make lovely music. Have a listen to their songs! My favourite one is ‘London’.

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Tinderbox + trying to be a rock star

Tonight I did a gig at the Usher Hall with the Tinderbox Orchestra. We were invited by Jazz Jamaica , Urban Soul Orchestra and Brinsley Forde to open their final show this evening. It was an amazing experience and I had never seen Reggae music live before; tonight I fell in love with it. Here is a random video of them rehearsing:

And here is my violin ready to be amplified with a microphone.
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The Noggin grows wiser after another year.

‘My day’ has already passed (11th July). I am sitting here, extremely sleepy but blissfully dreamy after a lovely evening.

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Most yummiest browniest brownie ever.

I am officially seventeen years old, old, old. I can feel this growth within me somewhat. For example, my limbs feel thicker, chunkier, broader; and I’m not particularly bothered about it – though (sadly) some of my favourite clothes have to be given to charity now.

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Diary entry from my birthday in 2005 – very amusing – written whilst I was visiting family in Bei Jing.

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Alone in a room with Edvard Munch

“One evening I was walking down a road – on the one side lay the town and the fjord below me.

I was tired and ill – I stood gazing over the fjord. The sun set – the colours of the sky were red – like blood. It felt as if a scream was coursing through nature – I seemed to hear a scream.

I painted this image – painted the clouds like real blood – the colours screamed.

This became the image The Scream in The Frieze of Life…” 

– Edvard Munch

Many of you will be aware of the recent auction of Edvard Munch’s The Scream at Sotheby’s. The most expensive auction of a painting in the whole of the universe at $119.9 million.

I was never really aware of its status in the world. I had only ever taken note of it when a teacher showed the work to us in class, during a talk which wasn’t even about painting (it was about jazz). Even then, I never really concentrated on its meaning. ‘Oh! It’s a sad face on a bridge.’

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