The breakfast butler

The life and times of Isabelle Free

Isabelle Free’s arrival into the world had been difficult and unpleasant, as her mother always reminded her. Mrs Free regularly recounted the story of the birth and how she had almost died while delivering Isabelle. Mrs Free had exhibited a discernible feeling of animosity towards Isabelle ever since.

Isabelle had little interaction with people and spent most of her time with the family dog, an Affenpinscher called Sadie. After developing an unusual speech defect that sounded not dissimilar to a dog’s bark, Isabelle began attending a speech and language therapist. She loved going to visit the speech therapist, Mrs Nash, because she was allowed to stand on the desk and make as much noise as she wanted. After 12 months of therapy, Isabelle could read fluently and test results showed she had the IQ of a nine year old.

Isabelle attended the local primary school but quickly established an unsavoury reputation. A disagreement with a classmate, Brian Munro, over who was going to use the red crayon ended with the crayon in question up Brian’s nose. Brian was taken to hospital and Isabelle was taken to the head teacher’s office. The crayon was retrieved from Brian's nose successfully and he suffered no permanent injury. This failed to stop the playground rumours that Isabelle had pushed the crayon so far up Brian’s nose that it had punctured his brain and that is why he now walked with a limp. After this day, the other children allowed Isabelle to use whichever crayon she wished.

Isabelle found primary school childish and preferred to spend her time with Sadie down at the canal. Her sense of companionship was indivisible from her relationship with Sadie. Isabelle didn't have much of a relationship with her parents. Mr and Mrs Free had always made it clear to Isabelle that they had wanted a son and that he would have been called Andrew. Sadie died aged 14. Three months later, the Frees got a new dog, a Greyhound called Sadie.

Throughout secondary school, Isabelle won a number of national science prizes including the Higgs Boson Prize for Junior Science, the F Sherwood Rowland Young Scientist Prize, and the Aberfield Award for Interesting Experiments. Mr and Mrs Free didn't like science and showed little interest in Isabelle's achievements.

Isabelle was offered an apprenticeship at the local nuclear power plant. The normal duration of the apprenticeship was four years but Isabelle finished it in two. Sadie watched from the window as Isabelle walked to the nuclear power plant on her first day as a qualified engineer. She was 17 years old.

Isabelle became a well-known face at the plant, as did Sadie, who ended up coming to work with her each day. After three years, the marketing team designated Sadie the mascot for nuclear power and Sadie spent many overnight trips travelling the country as part of the 'Nuclear Power: Man's new best friend' campaign.

Some years later, Isabelle received a letter advising that her parents had been killed in a microlight accident. Mr and Mrs Free had won a voucher for the flight in a competition on the back of a box of Bran Flakes. The neighbour who had written to Isabelle said that Mr and Mrs Free had been excited about the trip and that she was glad that they were together when they passed away. Apart from the occasional Christmas card, Isabelle had not had any contact with her parents since she was 22. In their will, Mr and Mrs Free left Isabelle their cat, Fancy. The remainder of their estate was left to charity. Isabelle didn't really like cats but accepted Fancy into her home with Sadie. She did not attend the funeral of her parents. Six months later, Fancy's body was found in a wheelie bin with multiple stab wounds.

Later the same year, Sadie had a stroke and was discovered, unresponsive, on the floor next to the magazine rack. A copy of Greyhound Star magazine lay open next to her. Isabelle buried Sadie in her garden beneath a monkey puzzle tree and had a plaque made which read: 'You will always be my Sadie'. Six weeks later, Isabelle brought home a Norwegian Elkhound. He was called Sadie.

Isabelle stayed at the nuclear power plant until she was in her mid-50s, by which point she had risen through the ranks of the plant hierarchy and each year was invited to play golf with the directors. During a routine property search of staff lockers during the Christmas party, it was discovered that Isabelle had been stealing plutonium for use in home lab experiments. She was dismissed on charges of gross misconduct.

Finding herself with more spare time on her hands, Isabelle got a second dog, a mongrel who she called Sadie. Isabelle, Sadie and Sadie took many day trips over the summer and visited every seaside town on the east coast. In each place, they sampled the ice cream. Isabelle's favourite was a double nougat while the dogs preferred oysters.

One day Isabelle was on the way back from the shops with Sadie and Sadie when she realised that she had lost her purse. There was wasn't much money in it but her favourite photo of Sadie was inside one of the pockets. She went to the police station and was overjoyed when the police officer told her someone had handed it in. She asked the officer if she knew who handed it and she gave her the person's address. Isabelle was so pleased to get the photo of Sadie back that she decided that she would get them a thank you present. Since she had lost her job at the nuclear power plant, she had been dabbling in crafts, and she made the person a macrame owl keyring.

Isabelle took Sadie and Sadie round to the person's house which was just a short walk away. She rang the doorbell and Lesley Billington answered. Isabelle explained who she was and Lesley invited her in for a cup of tea. Sadie and Sadie stayed outside in the garden. Lesley was very grateful for the keyring and they agreed to meet again the following week at the local park.

Lesley was a tree surgeon by trade and loved to tell Isabelle about the different types of trees in the park as they walked Sadie and Sadie. Isabelle and Lesley began spending all their time together and for the first time in her life, Isabelle felt a deep love for another person. They were married in a civil service where Sadie and Sadie wore small velvet cushions attached to their backs to carry the rings.

Isabelle and Lesley enjoyed married life. He taught her the difference between a hickory and a hawthorn and she showed him how make a volcano from hydrogen peroxide. One day Isabelle had been down at the canal with Sadie and Sadie. When she returned home, she heard a noise and looked out the kitchen window which faced the back garden. She noticed that Lesley's ladders were on the grass. He came into her sight and was carrying a chainsaw. He turned and saw Isabelle at the window, waved, and pointed over to the other side of the garden. She looked across and saw the monkey puzzle tree chopped in two and the half with Sadie's plaque on it was lying on the grass. Isabelle divorced Lesley.

For her 60^th birthday, Isabelle decided to treat herself and came home with Rhodesian Ridgeback which she called Sadie. Now her family was complete.

Milwaukee Art Museum

The Quadracci Pavilion was completed in 2001 and designed by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava. 

40 Days of Choice

Every year at this time, the anti-choice group 40 Days for Life spends the 40 days leading up to Easter (the traditional period of Lent) picketing abortion clinics, spreading misinformation, and generally harassing women and staff going in and out of the clinics. This year the 40 Days of Choice campaign has been launched to celebrate the right to safe, legal abortion.

A woman's right to choose has been under an increased threat recently with plans to allow anti-abortion groups publicly funded pregnancy counselling services, despite the defeat of similar proposals in a parliamentary vote last year. Diane Abbot, Shadow Public Health Minister, resigned from the cross-party group on abortion counselling accusing the Government of trying to push through the anti-choice agenda irrespective of public opinion. 

A survey of ten crisis pregnancy centres that offer pregnancy choices counselling to women found that only two of the ten centres offered good quality information while others with referred to the ‘baby’, showed women baby clothes or handed out literature that stated abortion caused an increased risk in breast cancer.

Meanwhile, an investigation by The Telegraph found that a number of private clinics are offering abortions on the grounds of sex-selection which is illegal. Pro-choice activists have warned that this should not be used as an excuse by the anti-choice movement to tighten restrictions on abortion.  

Also this week, two Catholic midwives in Glasgow lost a legal case to avoid participating in abortion procedures because of their 'conscientious objections'. They claimed that having to supervise staff who were taking part in abortions violated their human rights. A judge ruled that they did not have direct involvement with procedures.   

On a positive note, I came across this great short film, Obvious Child, 'A romantic comedy about an unplanned pregnancy, an abortion, and a great first date in an unlikely location'. So it is indeed possible to have a cute love story with the odd abortion thrown in for good measure.

An abortion clinic is an unorthodox first date venue but still looks like fun

Notes on Satisfaction No.1

Reading a book on the bus and finishing a chapter just as the bus is approaching my stop.

Book heaven

Visiting a bookshop never fails to elicit a frisson. Having been a fervent reader since a young age, I have always viewed bookshops as a place of serene delectation. The other day I came across a list of The 20 Most Beautiful Bookstores in the World. I was particularly chuffed when I realised that I had been in two of them. 

The Librería El Ateneo Grand Splendid in Buenos Aires, Argentina is truly magnificent sight. Formerly a theatre, it still has many of its original features including the balconies, marble columns, ornate carvings, domed ceiling and red curtains.

I spent so long gawping at the interior I almost forgot to look at the books

Barter Books in Alnwick, Northumberland is located inside a Victorian Railway Station and with seven rooms is one of the biggest second-hand bookshops in Europe. In 2000, a copy of the 1939 Keep Calm and Carry On poster was found in the shop. A classic piece of propoganda from wartime Britain, the design has now gone on to inspire a wealth of merchandise such as mugs, tea towels and t-shirts. The now annoyingly ubiquitous design led to a number of (even more annoying) parodies such as 'Procrastinate Now and Panic Later', and 'Drink Vodka and Get Drunk'. Which is most unfortunate.  

Barter Books: antique seating and open fires

My local bookshop is Young's Interesting Books in Shawlands, Glasgow. It is a small, yet charming, shop which has a carefully chosen selection of second-hand books for sale. The owner, Barry Young, wrote a particularly good blog in The Herald entitled Tales of a Second-hand Book Seller.  

Meeting the family

Non-conforming bevahiour never fails to attract attention. All over the world, the tradition is to meet a partner, engage in a period of courting, get married and have children. So when one or more stages is skipped, prying questions are asked as people try to compute what is going on: “When's it going to be your turn, then?”, “Is that the pitter-patter of tiny feet I hear?” and so on. Such patriarchal, and heteronormative, assumptions fail to consider the possibility that some people don't want any of that, or maybe only want part of it, or they do want it, but not in the same way as everyone else.

We may feel the shadow of the patriarchal jackboot looming above us here in Scotland, it is but the merest of tickles compared to life in China. Young people in China are expected to marry in their 20s and such is that pressure to 'settle down', many are now resorting to hiring fake partners take home. A 'beau' can cost up 700 yuan (£72) with the negotiable add-ons such as doing chores and drinking with the relatives. The practice has now become so widespread that a film, Contract Lover, and a hit TV drama, Renting a Girlfriend to Return Home for New Year have been made. 

The happy couple

The joys of film

Almost a year after returning from our travels, I finally got some of the films from my Holga developed. I was pleased that there was something to see in almost all of them, and I didn't just pay to have three films of indecipherable, blank-ish pictures developed.

Brave soldier

Owl displays her battle scars with a proud stoicism. Always at the ready; trusty, reliable guardian of the keys. She was nestled in the back pouch of my cycling jacket as I cycled home. From high above, a seagull swooped down, its beady eyes fixed on half an egg sandwich, the remains of the day’s lunch, resting next to Owl in my back pouch. She is a defender at heart, nay, a paladin, who exists to ensure that I will never be locked out. The seagull keeps coming, its large beak attempting to snatch a corner of the sandwich. Brave Owl pecks at the intruder and the seagull falls back. But the seagull makes a last gasp effort for its quarry. Owl’s small beak is no match for the brutish bill of the gull, however, and its parting shot is a final, vicious jab to Owl’s eye. This battle is played out at my rear and yet I am oblivious until I arrive at my front door and reach in for Owl. Owl is humble in her victory and we share the egg sandwich for tea.      

Last of the Christmas cake

It's that time of year. I'm back at work and, after being sickened of festive sweets, I'm trying to pass what remains on to visitors. "Go on, take the Christmas cake home with you. It's delicious, go on."  

The calm after the storm

A rare clear day yesterday heralded the opportunity to go for a much needed cycle. The unusually vibrant blue sky was a welcome reprieve from the endless rain and recent extreme weather. Earlier this week, Scotland was thrashed by a storm which saw widespread damage as trees were uprooted, roofs were blown off houses, roads were closed when  lorries were toppled over, the Clyde burst its banks, wheelie bins blew up the street like tumbleweed, and 160,000 households were left without power.

As we cycled through the southside, across the Clyde, and into the west end, the signs of the widespread damage in Glasgow remained. Broken tiles and smashed chimneys lay in piles on the pavements, trees were ripped from the ground and snapped in two, cars were crushed from fallen masonry, police tape flapped around mounds of debris, and handwritten signs on bus stops warned pedestrians to watch out for falling slates from above.

While cars can be replaced and houses rebuilt, the trees are lost forever. Kelvin Way is a street in the west end lined with huge trees which in the summer create a picturesque arch of leaves overhead. On one side is Kelvingrove Park, and on the other Glasgow University and Kelvingrove Art Gallery. I have many fond memories of Kelvin Way, from when I first moved to Glasgow to go to university, and also in more recent times; it's just a ideal area in which to go for a cycle.

Kelvin Way trees resplendent in the summer

It was with sadness then that we saw a number of trees destroyed by the recent gales. Beautiful old trees torn from the pavements and battered down across the railings. Other trees in Kelvingrove Park were split in two, toppled over with the inside wood exposed. 

This tree took the pavement and the kerb with it

Tree on Kelvin Way with Kelvingrove Art Gallery in the distance

Bent railings from the force of the tree crashing down

Damaged tree in Kelvingrove Park

I am fortunate to live in Glasgow, a city which has over 90 parks and gardens. So when parts of the environment are destroyed, whether by forces of nature or by avaricious developers, it reminds me not to take our Dear Green Place for granted.  

What's in a name?

The list of baby names registered in Scotland in 2011 was recently published. Tradition still plays a widespread role in the naming of children, from male family names being passed on to first-borns to the dominant patriarchal tradition of children having their father's surname. Tradition aside, naming a child must surely be one of the greatest opportunities to unleash one's creativity. It also offers parents the chance to project their dreams and aspirations onto the child and the life that he or she will have.

Creativity can come in the name itself, or increasingly it comes with the variations in the spelling of a name. This seems to be particularly prevalent with newer names. 

Take, for example, the name Jayden. There were no less than 12 variations in spelling of this name in Scotland in 2011. Jaden (17), Jadon (2), Jadyn (2), Jaeden (2), Jaiden (16), Jaidyn (2), Jaydynn (1), Jaydan (4), Jayden (209), Jaydon (6), Jaydyn (2). This is not to mention the numerous hyphenated offerings such as Jaiden-James (1), Jaiden-Lee (1), Jayden-Cole (1), Jayden-James (4), Jayden-Lee (1), and Jaydyn-John (1).

 

Predominantly a boy's name, Jayden originated in the US and was largely obscure until the 1990s. It is no coincidence that the name rose in popularity after Britney Spears named her second son Jayden in 2006.

Jayden might not be so grumpy if he knew that he is the bellwether of boys' names in Scotland

Taking inspiration from the names of celebrities is not uncommon. Last year, there were eight Brooklyns, eight Romeos, 11 Cruzes, and five Harpers, recognisable to some as the names of Victoria and David Beckham's children. There was also one Maddox (see son of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt), one Princess (see daughter of Katie Price), Pacey (see pseudo-philosophical teen drama Dawson's Creek), Bruce-Lee (see dead martial arts main man), and Otis (see soul singer Mr Redding – although I've never thought that Otis quite works with white, middle-class children).

But when does aspiration for the lifestyle of a celebrity become confused with pure fan-love? Last year in Scotland, there were 35 Willows, 24 Xanders, one Spike, 20 Angels, and 1 Wolfram. Admittedly, there were no Buffys nor Giles so maybe I'm reading a bit too much into this.

The trend of naming after a place, possibly the place of conception, remains: Dakota (6), Devon (5), Adelaide (2), Indiana (1), Carlisle (1), Alba (18), Caledonia (2), Nevada (1), Trinidad (1), Argyll (1), Israel (1), and Isreal [sic] (1).

At a time when we are witnessing the rampant pinkification of girlhood, it is perhaps not surprising to see Precious (5), Princess (1), and Treasure (2) appearing on the list of girls' names.

As for my favourties on the list, I think there's a lot to be said for a strong name which gives a child instant gravitas. Names taken from mythology and history such as Juno (2), Atlas (1), Cassiopeia (1) and Capitolina (1) will certainly conjure an element of individuality. Standing out from the crowd by virtue of one's name is not always a good thing though. There's no denying that Awesome, Boo-Tiger, Levi-Star, Jesuslovesme, Starlit, Willieboy, Swan, You, and Wolfie might be the only ones with those names in their class at school and may be quite cross about it as they are growing up, wondering why they weren't called something innocuous like Sophie or Jack. 

Atlas' god status meant that he fortunately never suffered from back pain