So I’ve been talking a fair bit about fire service work in #Skye with a few references to my former life in a rock band. I’ve had a few questions from people on here about how/why I made the switch from this guy to this guy.
In 2016 @BedlamSix split up after ten years on the road. I threw myself into writing a musical about political spin and populist governments loosely following the structure of the Oedipus myth. You can read all about that here: louisbarabbas.com/jocasta/
Here’s one of the songs (of course I cast myself as the villain).
Musicals are a famously collaborative medium, one shouldn’t really attempt writing them solo. So by the time I’d written this thirty song epic, secured funding, recorded a cast album and staged a showcase at The Lowry theatre I was REALLY tired.
I later realised I’d experienced total burnout. I hadn’t really processed the end of my old band, just got stuck into a new project, kept moving, I felt utterly hollowed out. At this time my grandfather died and I went up to Skye to sort out his house.
I’d been coming here since I was a baby, sometimes staying for long stretches but never calling it home. This time, however, I felt a huge weight drop from my shoulders, a massive knot of tension I hadn’t even realised was there.
My partner and I decided to move in. Just for a bit. To work out our next steps. We’d both just finished jobs and weren’t sure what to do. We’d only ever lived in a one-bedroom flat in Manchester so being surrounded by hills and trees was a phenomenal change.
I know a lot of people in Skye are sick of incomers talking about the restorative powers of the island so I’ll avoid that sort of language, but the move transformed me. The clean air, the wildlife, the lack of advertising billboards constantly highlighting one’s shortcomings.
Bryony got a job in a shop and I drifted for a while on the dregs of my dwindling song royalties. We adopted a neurotic dog with a traumatic past and became a strange little family. We couldn’t go back now, Lorna would never be able to handle a city.
So I quit music altogether and applied for the fire service. Why not? That’s a natural trajectory isn’t it? A way of finally being a useful person to society but still getting the occasional bout of applause. Here I am graduating from initial training in Oban.
The crew at @DunveganFire fills the hole left since my band split. Indeed it feels very similar. A bunch of friends hurtling towards a crisis at high speed. What’s more rock and roll than that?
And I was already very used to quick changes in a shared dressing room.
A lot of people think “oh I couldn’t do that!” (I know I did) but you’d be surprised what you’re capable of. If you have even half an inkling you might like to be an on-call firefighter check out the website firescotland.gov.uk/careers/on-cal… or ask my crew @DunveganFire for info.
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A little late to the H&I Voices X feed tonight as it's been an utterly beautiful day on the western end of the Ardnamurchan peninsula, have been out with the cameras all day.
First up is Sunset Over The Sound from Kilchoan.
Not a technically perfect photo, but as the intense, low sunlight back lit the reeds at Kilchoan bay this afternoon there was just something so special about the glow and magic moment of light on the reed beds.
#Ardnamurchan
Today’s visual excursion around Ardnamurchan is around the magical Camas man Gaell (Bay of Strangers / Bay of the Promise) and the cleared Croft settlement of Bourblaig.
The images were taken on clearer weather days in October, but heading back again tomorrow too.
The walks around Camas down to the bay with its evidence of human inhabitation since Neolithic times, or up to the peak of the majestic Ben Hiant (528m) which affords spectacular views out of the Sound of Mull where you can enjoy the magical play of light.
The lower tip of Ben Hiant that runs down to the Sound of Mull is known as Macleans Nose. The promentary is a distinctive feature in the West Ardnamurchan landscape.
John Haylet’s blog is worth a read and details a lovely walk. kilchoan.blogspot.com/2013/03/maclea…
There is a body of water on the Hill of Nigg that, on the official maps, is called Bayfield Loch or Bayfield Dam. Conversely, if you ask the locals they will call it Adams Loch, or Loch Adamach. But who was Adam? 1/31
On one side the Hill of Nigg rises gently from the coast but on the other there are sheer cliffs of Old Red Sandstone caused by the Great Glen Fault, where the hill meets the Moray Firth. Once common land, the hill was divided between various estates in the 18th century. 2/31
The estates in Nigg generally have a home farm at the foot of the hill. An exception is Castlecraig, once part of the Cromartie Estate. That farm is based above the hill, where people still live. When the hill was divided, the sections were legally named for the estates: 3/31
The challenge with organising things in village halls is they aren’t dedicated venues with paid staff, they are fuelled by goodwill. Sometimes the business of fixing the roof and keeping the lights on supersedes curating a dedicated programme of events.
Indeed some halls have ended up as the sole responsibility of a single volunteer who becomes the only person who knows how things work and where the fuse box is. It can feel like a thankless task and it isn’t surprising when people get jaded.
The combination of folk taking the hall for granted (or forgetting it’s there entirely) and a growing resentment in the people keeping the damp at bay leads to a vicious circle: if you want to use the hall you have to negotiate with someone who’s lost their passion for the place.
The ongoing mission was/is to keep coming back into the halls throughout the project (and hopefully long into the future) so that the venues themselves run through the work like the words in a stick of rock.
So step two involved me writing songs inspired by the conversations and then coming back into those halls to record them with local singers and musicians. I’m currently ten songs in with notes for three or four more.
Throughout this whole project I’ve been very aware of how important it is not to filter or erase the original voices, that often well-meaning creatives bust in and find great local material, make an album and hoover up all the attention leaving no legacy at all.
Village halls are brilliant places. They’re so versatile and yet can have a real character of their own. My project for #Aiseirigh#CultureCollective aimed to get their usage up after so many had been left empty over lockdown, particularly as culture spaces to share experiences.
I didn’t want to just put on events though. Events are great but they only attract events people. I didn’t want to have lots of two-hours-where-a-big-group-of-people-silently-watch-a-small-group-of-people-do-something.
So I teamed up with @CatherineMacP12 from @HLHArchives. We came up with a plan to hold memory sessions with free refreshments. No agenda, just people getting into their local hall and chatting about the past and present.