Laughter, pure and simple

Just had to share this on somewhere I could find it again - the most wonderful example of total mirth and involvement. I don't know what Catriona was laughing at - though it sounds as if it's her Dad - but it makes me giggle just watching her.

A real poet

I was rooting around in links the other day - probably chasing up accounts of +Gene's visit to Scotland last week - when I came across this on The Herald's site. Edwin Morgan reads some poems he wrote recently in response to some well-known paintings - the best known probably the Dali Christ of St John of the Cross, a painting I grew up knowing through frequent visits to Kelvingrove Art Galleries.

Though his speech is now slurred by the stroke he suffered last year, Morgan's voice is still recognisable as that of the first real poet I ever met, when he lectured to my Ordinary English class at Glasgow Uni in the 60s, and the poems are as telling as ever. I am indebted to this real poet for encouraging me in my writing, and heartened to realise he's as sharp as ever despite failing health and confinement in a nursing home.

Read and enjoy.

Second try...

I don't really like the way these frames spread themselves over the page, but think this set of pics - from the bin the bomb march in Glasgow earlier this year - works better with this treatment. And it didn't take me so long this time ...