The other day, my friend Cath posted an old recipe she’d found for ‘Election Cake’ – a vast concoction designed to sustain an electoral campaign through days and weeks of canvassing.
Yesterday morning we awoke at 5.40am to the unnerving news of our own elections, punctuated by two terrorist atrocities; and spent yesterday listening to the speculations as to how it’s all to pan out. Muted calls for resignations, visits to the Queen, unexpected alliances, and a dodgy-sounding deal with a minority UK party with homophobic and anti-abortion policies. Plus the personal stories of the winners and losers in the governmental race. In our own constituency, there were four recounts because the margin was so slim – only two votes between the potential winners – and frankly, I wouldn’t be in their shoes for all the gravy on the Edinburgh-to-London Express.
So today, it’s a time for grounding ourselves again in the little certainties which sustain us. And a significant memory: fifty years ago today, the Troubadour went to the phone box down the road to find out whether his wife had given birth yet. ‘Yes,’ he was told, ‘visiting time is at 3pm. You can see them then.’ He went to work and at lunchtime the mechanics took him to wet the baby’s head. Eventually, still in his overalls, he got to see his first and only, that afternoon. Happy birthday, Jan.
This morning, before the birthday trip, I am going to set up my first ever batch of sourdough. It feels like it’s important to celebrate the thrifty skills which keep us all going; to put something away for tomorrow and the day after; to create something for sharing. Various traditional favourites recommend themselves but I want to find a bit of solidarity with our non-UK national neighbours, those who prop up our economy with their skills and knowledge and can-do-will-do attitude; and are still waiting to see whether they are welcome to stay, post-Brexit. Sourdough bread fits the bill.
Between paragraphs 3 and 4 above, I decided to get on with it instead of just talking about it – so here it is; 100g each of strong flour and tepid water, and a few sultanas. I have to leave it for 24 hours at room temperature, feed it and leave it again … by the time I can actually make some bread, the rawness of the election season will have soothed a bit and we’ll be plodding ever onwards. Those who have the stomach for it will engage directly with the political process; apart from casting my vote, that doesn’t include me. I’ll just mind the sourdough.
Went to a meeting in the Scottish Parliament last night – Cross Party Group on Food. This is one of over a hundred specific interest groups which cross party lines; they are open to the general public as well as people with a specific interest. This was my first visit to the Food group. It was a good session – 90 minutes of informed, enthusiastic information and debate, well chaired by Mark Ruskell MSP (Scottish Greens, quite appropriate given the plea from Nourish Scotland on eating more veg).
The theme for the evening was learning and development for food industry practioners. We had presentations from the Food and Drink Federation Scotland; the College Development Network for the food industry; and Skills Development Scotland. Then there was a lively discussion around the table, with contributions from leaders from the meat, fish and vegetable industries, as well as from other learning providers. E.g. Abertay University informed us of their forthcoming lab provision, enabling hands-on training for students with an interest in creating something new in the food world.
It seems that in Scotland we have a fabulous pantry of produce, and some great learning and development initiatives; but that there is a serious problem in funding. Not just the question of insufficient investment, but of sustainability of funding to allow for development and growth.
Food is a key part of Scotland’s economy, and so on an economic agenda alone it ought to be supported. However food is also a global issue and a basic human right; and ironically, the Cross Party Group’s last meeting focused on the problem of malnutrition, alive and well in Scotland. I know this picture is replicated worldwide; surely it’s time to do something about it?
I’m fortunate to live in a country that respects and fosters debate and democratic involvement; and that has such lush food provision in its hills and valleys and shorelines I’d like to find a way of spreading it round a bit. Suggestions welcome.
Do you ever get bored with the mincing correctness of politics these days? I have to confess I’ve never been all that interested at the best of times, so I’m no kind of expert on these matters. However it does feel like there’s a lot of games of conkers going on in the chambers of elected members across the land.
Yesterday a friend and I visited House of the Binns, near Linlithgow – very close to home for both of us but neither of us had ever been before – it’s always the way. It was a very pleasant visit – a fine old laird’s house of the early 17th Century, full of interesting portraits and charming mismatched old china, and inhabiting a lovely spot looking down over the Firth of Forth (‘Binns’ apparently means something like ‘Bens’ – ie hills – the estate is built on two hills). It is the family home of the Dalyell family – Tam Dalyell was Labour MP for Linlithgow from 1962 to 2005. Our guide, a Grangemouth lady who has been guiding for over 15 years, was knowledgeable and entertaining, and dropped in some nice personal opinions and experiences.
We were graced by a personal appearance of Dalyell himself. Now over 80, he excused himself to check on the welfare of his bees, then shuffled off again. Among the many portraits on show, there were copies of press cartoons highlighting his political career as a ‘dogged crusader’. One of the best was of Dalyell with his teeth clamped round a woman’s ankle , handbag brandished nearby – Maggie Thatcher. Apparently he was twice suspended from the House of Commons for calling her a liar, and refusing to retract the accusation. He compared the Falklands campaign to ‘two bald men fighting over a comb’. Although a ready challenge to the conservative governments of his day, he was no less critical of New Labour, and staunchly declared himself ‘Ancient Labour’.
How exciting to come into contact with landed gentry who care about the masses. And it gets better. Tam Dalyell is married to Kathleen Wheatley, whose father, Lord Wheatley, was Labour MP for Edinburgh for many years, and established the Legal Aid system in Scotland. He was a lifelong Roman Catholic, and at his memorial service in 1988, the then Lord Chancellor, Lord Mackay of Clashfern, a member of the Free Presbyterian Church, was disciplined by his church for attending Lord Wheatley’s service in the catholic church.
I don’t really care that much what denomination people belong to or what beliefs they profess. But I love it when people rise above the often-stifling and misguided institutions of formal religion and do the right thing. And ditto with politics. Yesterday was a refreshing blast of rebelry and I hope it hasn’t gone from public life.