Fantastic news - Hazel, Vincent and Simon get to stay!

Thrilled to hear last night that our neighbour and friend Hazel Minn will not be deported to Burma...she and her adopted sons Simon and Vincent have been given permission for permanent residence in this country. It has been a five year battle, and all tribute to Shetland and Orkney MP Alistair Carmichael for his unstinting commitment to the cause. And everyone else involved, from the Church of Scotland to the 6000 Shetlanders who signed a petition supporting the Minns.

More info and pictures on almost every news site, but especially here.

Monday@the Radiocroft

Orchestral manoeuvres in the (cold and) dark while Shetland (sort of) starves!

Well, Susan and Martha flew home yesterday without difficulty, but transport to, from and within the Shetland Isles is in disarray this evening, thanks to easterly gales. No boats north or south last night or tonight, no freight, no 'sooth bread' in the shops and the wind is still howling, so the possibility of power cuts later.

All that and the rest of Scotland is being deluged with snow. Though not Glasgow, where I sit and contemplate a night of classical music, courtesy of the National Youth Orchestra of Scotland. Walton! Rachmaninov! Rock, and if you will, roll! James is one of the bassists, and though I don't expect to speak to him tonight, tomorrow I'll collect him, and his bass, after the Perth Concert Hall gig, prior to the ferry trip home on Sunday night. As long as the wind changes.

Presumably by then there will be Warburtons back in the Lerwick supermarkets, and all will be right in the Northern Isles. How DID the vikings manage without sliced white bread?

Attack of the mutant monster feral Kelvingrove squirrels (and a Dalek)

There we were, permabulating through Kelvingrove Park along with many other groggy ne'erday humans, when I was approached by a squirrel. A grey squirrel, the nasty interloping diseased creature which is in the process of wiping out our wondrous native red squirrel. Well, there's more than one, obviously. I'm talking species here. Or specieses.
Anyway, this thing sat like some cartoon character and obviously expected to be fed. I had no weapon, otherwise I would have done my bit for red squirreldom. Soon three more grey beasts approached. Someone, perhaps with a superficial resemblance to myself, regularly fed these evil creatures. When the boldest of the furry freaks tried to climb up my trouser leg (really) we left, hurriedly, pursued by equally tame but less obnoxious blue tits. I felt like Dr Doolittle.
Later, I met a real monster, a Dalek without its metal casing. But the squirrel was really terrifying.

Glasgow and Troon for New Year...

...and a very happy 2008!
A trip on the 30th to my old stamping grounds in Troon for a highly unusual event - curry with my two sisters, father and nearly all associated family. Fifteen of us at the Maharani in Troon. Dad's normally in Ayr, Shiona's in Brixham, Ruthie's in Strasbourg and we're in Shetland. So that's a picture to treasure.
Then it was Glasgow for Hogmanay, my 52nd birthday. Last show of the year from Pacific Quay, which looked like something out of Blade Runner as dusk fell. Some more family visitations, then it was off with Magnus and Martha to George Square to see the View and for the bells and fireworks. Rock'n'roll! The View have taken scratchy youth club urchin pop as far as it can possibly go, surely.
To friends in the west end until, good grief, 5.00am. It's Ne'erday, and we were going to go ice skating. On the other hand...