‘An energetic and brilliant (if quirky) polymath’
The following account of Dr Arthur Brock (1879-1947) is from this paper by David Cantor:
Tag: Edinburgh
statues
“Meet you at the statue in an hour” is the closing line of the song ‘Piazza, New York Catcher’ by Belle and Sebastian. This line is repeated twice. … Continue reading statues
the fairm-toun sang
A special person has given me the opportunity to hear a Borders fairm-toun sing. I am going to take my mum with me as the singing begins on the day … Continue reading the fairm-toun sang
Bloody Scotland
Scotland’s International Crime Writing Festival will take place in Stirling between the 20th and 22nd September 2019. Alexander McCall Smith is attending and will be interviewed by Alex Gray:
she makes it kinder
I will never forget a dear old lady – long since dead. She is with me every day as I hear the news. She makes it kinder.
In search of lost time
A film about Robert Scott, Robert Scott Moncrieff, Walter Scott, Henry Raeburn, Marcel Proust and a left-behind gateway that brings them all to auld Fossoway. This film is for my … Continue reading In search of lost time
Hame
So you think you know what it is to be Scottish? Well, read ‘Hame’ by Annalena MacAfee. It is a lovely book. This is my “Review”:
Relics from the sanctum sanctorum
Two of the relics exhibited in Edinburgh in October 1871.
flight of ideas
“Flight of ideas” is a term considered by psychiatry to represent “pathology”. It is included in International diagnostic criteria for major mental illness. For many years now I have collected … Continue reading flight of ideas
Colin
Colin, your daughter recalls how principled you were before your untimely death. I retrace your footsteps in revealing the wonder of Scotland’s architecture. And now, I am the principled bugger. … Continue reading Colin
Impossible
The National Portrait Gallery: I came across the bust of Alexander McCall Smith on the landing: disembodied. I left the portrait gallery troubled.
Vivendo discimus
The Antiquary worries: that today’s Science has lost the place of T I M E in our lives. [a poem for now, then, and all that may become]