Issue 1

Welcome to the new Voice for Arran in its monthly ‘magazine’ form. We’re thrilled by the number of people who have sent us articles and photographs, and this wealth of contributions has added up to a much bigger production than we could have hoped for previously.

The views expressed are those of the individual writer, and we stick to the principle of offering space for a wide variety of opinion. If you want to add a comment or an argument, you can do so at any time – just hit comment on the tool bar above these words.

Please encourage non-computing friends to explore the helpful service available at Brodick Library, where they can read the Voice online, helped by a friendly guru who will guide them through the simple steps that can seem so daunting. Details from Lisa at the Library are included a little further down. (or Click here for further details?)

Our next issue after this one will be out on March 1st, and all contributions are welcome. Drop us a line on admin@voiceforarran.com  if you want to suggest an idea or get some help. Copy should ideally be in a week before publication date, to allow enough time for putting everything together, and length can be anything from a brief few words to around 1,000.

If you would like to help us advertise this online magazine please print the flyer and leave it in your local shop/Doctors waiting room etc. see print flyer button above the contents list.

When the new High School was built, Jim Tulips, then NAC’s PPP liaison officer, asserted that it would feature a ‘Flagship Community Theatre’ for use by Arran people. That was very welcome – but now there is doubt about whether the community can use the theatre for its own creative purposes or not. John Baraclough, who worked for 25 years in broadcast TV studios and has been involved in stage lighting for nearly 50 years, has been giving technical support to drama groups since the opening of the new building. He and others have made considerable improvements to the initial systems, providing additional equipment at their own expense. However, John has been told that members of the public, even if they are professionals in the field, must not handle lighting and sound equipment. The only people insured to do so are employees of MITIE, the contractors in charge of maintenance. Thus, Arran now has a Community Theatre that in effect cannot be used. Already, events are being re-booked at other halls, and there is doubt whether the annual Drama Festival can go ahead.

As everyone knows, the new High School was built through a PPP (Private and Public Partnership) deal between NAC and an international firm of developers, Hochtief. According to its own website, Hochtief is under a ‘hostile takeover bid’ from a Spanish consortium, ACS (Actividades de Constuccion y Servicios), but whatever the outcome, maintenance and running of the Arran High school building, including the Community Theatre, remains in the hands of MITIE, which stands for Management Incentive Through Investment Equity. This enormous enterprise has maintenance contracts for the Scottish Parliament and the Tower of London among countless others. Its website depicts a highly systematised profit-making machine, based on taking 51% equity stakes in start-up businesses that fall into its fields of activity. Its managers own a substantial minority stake in the business. MITIE’s home page states, ‘As a leading FTSE 250 business with over 56,000 people and revenues in excess of £1.7bn, our strategic input can add value at the highest level, while our practical management expertise can save clients money and maximise their returns.’

The client currently in question is North Ayrshire Council, but whether it is saving money through this venture is far from clear-cut. NAC receives monthly invoices from PPP Services (North Ayrshire) Ltd to cover the cleaning, maintenance and wages of janitorial staff. These payments are £159,000 a month. Since this sum covers all costs for ongoing maintenance, it is easy to understand MITIE’s exclusive approach to maintenance work. It is not in their interest to reduce costs, since all running expenses are met by NAC via PPP Services. Voluntary help from the community would undoubtedly be useful to the Council in its current economic crisis, but offers to make small improvements cheaply or at no cost have no place in MITIE’s business model.

A small but telling example of this conflicting interest has arisen since MITIE installed a triple-glazed window in the theatre’s sound control room. This window is totally soundproof, so nobody working in the control room can now hear anything that happens on the stage. John Baraclough offered to provide the necessary intercom system through Northern Lights for £700, but MITIE insist that it must be provided by their own suppliers at a cost of £5,700. The infinitely higher cost can be seen as an advantageous item on MITIE’s balance sheet, as NAC foots the bill at the end of the day.

Councillor Margie Currie stresses that NAC is happy to see the full use made of the Community Theatre, and hopes this will continue and develop. Robin Knox (NAC Contract Compliance Officer) initially agreed. He said the Council had 'no agenda to make anyone’s ability to use the facility more difficult’ and added that it was ‘very much in NAC’s interests to ensure that the Community Theatre is used as widely as possible.’ However, as official pig-in-the-middle between NAC on one hand and PPP Services/MITIE on the other, he is in a difficult position. He stalled over any further questions, explaining that he was obliged to run our request for information past his Corporate Director and Communications Section for approval before saying anything further. Lynn McEwan, Head of Communications, said it is not Council policy to release news to community websites, even (or perhaps, we thought, particularly) if they are functioning as a newspaper or magazine. During a second phone call, Robin Knox pointed out that the terms of use laid down by MITIE have been known from the start.

Many people have been unhappy about the PPP deal from its inception, since it was imposed on the Arran community with no consultation whatever. The ring-fenced commitment to pay for the project over the next 30 years becomes increasingly alarming as financial constraints tighten – but the difficulties could have been anticipated. As early as March 2006 MSP Dennis Canavan asked a Parliamentary question about why the annual bill local authorities paid for PPP school projects had climbed from zero in 1999-2000 to £12m the following year, before reaching the vastly increased sum of £111m in 2006. He said, ‘This is a waste of taxpayers' money and a millstone round their necks for years to come. Traditional public finance would have been far more economic and better value for money.’

George Monbiot suggested in the Guardian recently that such deals, established without any mandate from the community concerned, constitute what is legally known as ‘odious debt’. These enticing but expensive offers have a bad history of crippling Third World countries, and there have been successful cases in protesting that debts imposed this way, with no reference to the will of the people, are illegitimate and therefore can be written off. Although Arran can hardly be called Third World, it might very well claim to be saddled with exactly such an ‘odious debt’. Any resulting legal case could be very interesting. Meanwhile, on a more mundane level, the fact is that professional lighting engineers who have their own Public Liability and Accidental Damage insurance would probably be allowed to move lanterns on the lighting grid. The question of insurance cover to enable members of the community to use the theatre constructively and without financial threat to themselves must be solved. Otherwise, the so-called Community Theatre may become a white elephant, embarrassing to the Council and infuriating to Arran people.

Picture - Opera gala evening Mclellan Arts Festival in the Community theatre.

Comment.

£159,000 a month to cover the cleaning, maintenance and wages of janitorial staff...

How ironic. NAC built the new school to avoid costly maintenance on the previous building. - Chris Aitken, Brodick

from Douglas Hamilton

The Lochranza Choir again performed in Whiting Bay Church in November, with our guests Martainn Skene on cello and Kerrie Calder on flute, both of whom also made valuable contributions to our performance of movements from Fauré's Requiem. The choir hopes to complete the Fauré Requiem this session - we have three choral and one soprano solo
movement to do, and at a later stage we hope to do the whole work. We have also started rehearsing a medley from Bernstein's West Side Story and hope that it will form part of an American section in our May concert. This will be the 10th year of the Lochranza Choir, so we
may also include some favourites from past repertoire.

The Rowan Singers performed a successful concert on Sunday 19th December, in the afternoon, in the High School Theatre. This was our second concert in the theatre, and it appears to be a popular venue with the audience. We wonder whether the afternoon timing for our winter concert is appropriate - audience feed-back would be welcome.

We tried to include a variety of musical styles in the concert - Stanford's Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis in B flat (one of his settings for Anglican Services), two recent arrangements of spirituals, a repeat of the popular Childrens' Favourites as well as a number of Christmas
items. Unfortunately, Kerrie Calder, our guest flautist, was snowbound in East Kilbride, but we were grateful to our choir members, Isobel Thomson, John Cruikshank and the Senior Moments ladies, Kath Turner, Lillian Smith and Margaret Shaw, for stepping so ably into the breach at the last moment. This term, we hope to continue making music as well as we can, but always enjoying ourselves, and hope to include a variety of music - including some "dances" from various places, more songs from the shows, as well as some more serious music.

New members will be welcome to either or both choirs. We hope to make music in an enjoyable way, but also to aim for a high standard. The Lochranza Choir meets in Lochranza Village Hall on Monday evening, from February 7th, the Rowan Singers in Lamlash Church Hall every Tuesday evening from 18th January, both at 7.30pm.

When Djordje Gajic – pronounced Georgie Guy-ic – played in Brodick Hall last year, heavy snow meant that the audience was small. A lot of people regretted that they had missed it, specially when those who had been there were going into such raptures about the extraordinary evening they had enjoyed. As a result, the Music Society has asked him back, and he will be appearing in Brodick Hall on Saturday, 19th  February. If you’ve ever thought the accordion is simply a background to the goings-on in some smoky old French café, you are in for a big surprise. Djorje plays a huge, beautiful, glossy black instrument hand-made in Italy that can do the most astonishing things. It can sound like a church organ – specially when he plunges unexpectedly into the Bach Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. You know the one – it starts high, then comes cascading down. Tiddle-deeeeee … (pause) …  tee tiddledy oooooooh – dah. Then great, sustained chords come climbing slowly up again (in wonderful sevenths, for anyone of a jazz turn of mind) to a big celebration then gets going on the intricate fugue-y bit. In Scarlatti, by complete contrast, the accordion sounds light and delicate. In Albeniz it has all the voluptuous richness of Spain, and Mozart can be as playful as a young boy in Vienna dancing to the strains of a hurdy-gurdy. This is music played by an outstanding virtuoso, and several people who heard Djordje said it was the most astonishing musical experience they had ever had.

Hungarian by birth, Djordje Gajic began his musical studies in Yugoslavia when he was only six years old, and finally graduated from the Russian Academy of Music in 1993 with a Masters degree and a special accolade as ‘Solo Performer’. He has won many international competitions and has given countless recitals, in every country in Europe. He now lives in Glasgow with his wife and two young sons, and is in high demand for appearances at festivals and concerts.

On February 19th, Djordje is bringing his family to Arran, and as a special bonus, his wife, Andrea, who is an accomplished violinist, may join him for one or two numbers. It is impossible to convey the extraordinary quality that rocked the audience at last year’s concert, but please, please, don’t miss this. The concert starts at 7.30pm. Tickets at the door, and anyone of school age gets in free.

Katy Clark, MP for North Ayrshire and Arran, has condemned the Government’s failure to take action to prevent excessive bonuses from occurring in the banking sector. The Government admitted in the past month that it will not be taking measures to curb bonuses in the financial sector. Instead, it will replace the previous Government’s temporary bonus tax on bankers with an annual levy on balance sheets, estimated to bring in £1 billion less in tax revenues. Reports suggest that the Chief Executive of RBS could be in line for a £2.5 million bonus, with his counterpart at Barclays rumoured to be receiving £8 million on top of his annual salary.

Katy said, ‘Prior to the election both the Conservatives and Liberal Democrats were talking tough about ensuring that irresponsibility in the banking industry would be brought to an end. At the first opportunity however the Government has caved into pressure from their friends in the City and refused to take any action on the obscene bonus payments which we had hoped to have seen the last of.

‘At a time when they have increased VAT to 20%, which will hit the poorest 10% of the population hardest, the Government have essentially decided to give bankers a tax cut. This is not only deeply unfair but will continue to give encouragement to the sort of irresponsible behaviour in the banking industry  which caused the financial crisis in the first place. Families across the United Kingdom struggling at this difficult economic time will rightly be furious at the Government’s refusal to bring these unacceptable bonuses to an end.

Do we mean, any Arran day in February?  No, this is Corrie Film Club trying something new.  We are inviting everyone who loves film and has the stamina to come and join us for the whole day, or part of it if you prefer, on Saturday the 26th February from 10am to 10pm. We have selected films from the ‘40s to the present day, colour and black and white, comedy, romance, drama, suspense, full-length and shorts.  Don’t worry, there will be food for the body as well as the mind.  If you are coming for the day, please bring food to share.

 In chronological order of their age, but not the order in which they will be shown, we have first, Bringing Up Baby (1938). This is one of versatile director Howard Hawks's greatest comedies and is often considered the definitive screwball film. It is one of the funniest, wackiest and most inspired films of all time, cracking along at breathless pace, packed with zany antics and pratfalls, absurd situations and misunderstandings. The director’s sense of comic timing is perfect, as is that of the brilliant cast, which stars Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant, Barry Fitzgerald – and of course, the rather well-behaved leopard called Baby. This is the classic romantic comedy, filled with lunatic and hare-brained misadventures, disasters and light-hearted surprises.

Brief Encounter, considered by many to be the love-story to end them all – if not, indeed, the film to end them all – was made by David Lean in 1945. In unforgettably poignant black-and-white photography, it depicts forbidden passions in 1940s England. A doctor meets a housewife on a suburban railway station and obligingly removes a smoke smut from her eye – and, to the dismay of both of them, they find they have fallen in love. Trevor Howard as the decent, concerned doctor faces it bravely, though in misery. ‘You know what’s happened, don’t you,’ he says to Celia Johnson as the anguished wife who knows she cannot leave her husband. And she, barely able to speak, looks away and says, ‘Yes.’ This is Lean’s most tender, detailed film, made heart-breaking by the perfectly reasonable accompanying Rachmaninov Piano Concerto. Even Stanley Holloway’s broad comedy in the station café only paints up the quiet, bravely faced pain of a love affair that is doomed. Beautiful – but have a handy tissue in your pocket.

1966. Cul de Sac, (black and white, 110min, Cert.12) is a British psychological thriller directed by the Franco-Polish director Roman Polanski. Shot on the Northumberland island of Lindesfarne, the film begins with Dickie, a gangster, pushing a broken-down car containing his shot and bleeding fellow-criminal through rising seawater towards the remote tidal island that will indeed be their cul de sac, the end of the line. They are heading for a dark castle that turns out to be owned by the effeminate George (played by Donald Pleasence) who is being tormented by his dominating wife Teresa (Francoise Dorleac). The arrival of the gangsters complicates the situation even further and leads to outrageous comedy as Dickie joins in the game while at the same time holding the unfortunate couple hostage. Polanski, perhaps the most unpopular of directors in his time, brings off an edgy marvel in this tense, dreadfully funny film.

We move into colour with Dangerous Liaisons (1985 119 min, Cert. 15). Based on Christopher Hampton's play, Les liaisons dangereuses, which in turn was a theatrical adaptation of the 18th-century French novel of the same name, it was the Hollywood debut for director Stephen Frears, well known in British cinema for My Beautiful Laundrette (1985). Starring Glen Close, John Malkovich and Michelle Pfeiffer, the aristocratic carryings-on provide a rich cocktail of jealousy, betrayal, sexual conquest and scorned love. Don’t ask us about the plot – there’s a big pat on the back for anyone who can plausibly claim to understand it – but the whole thing is enormous fun. And very sexy!

 In addition, we hope to show two short films. The first, Isle of Voices  (1994) relates a story by R.L. Stevenson. The second, Life on the Craig, was made by David Napier of Shiskine. Shot in black and white, it gives us 55minutes of fascinating interviews with people who lived and worked on Ailsa Craig in the past. This historic footage is interspersed with more recent, visually stunning scenes of the rock in colour.

We look forward to seeing you on the day. Entry is free, and open to all. Non-members of the Film Club are very welcome, though donations to Corrie and Sannox Village Hall would be welcomed.

PROGRAMME

10 am Coffee & tea
10.30 -11 am Isle of Voices
11.30 am - 12.45 pm Life on the Craig

12.45 to 1.30 pm LUNCH soup, rolls and cheese provided by Corrie Film Club

1.30 – 3pm Brief Encounter
3.15 – 5 15 pm Dangerous Liaisons

5.15 – 5.45 pm TEA BREAK

5.45 - 7.30pm Bringing up Baby

7.30 -  8.30pm SUPPER.  Baked potatoes & salad will be provided by Corrie Film club. Please bring a filling/garnish, for the potatoes, to add to the table. and your own wine/soft drinks. Arran Dairy ice cream in tubs will also be available to buy throughout the day.

8.30 -10.30 pm Cul de Sac

An exhibition of Margot Sandeman’s paintings is to be held at The Lillie Art Gallery, Milngavie, Glasgow. It is open from Tuesday, January 18th to Wednesday, March 16th, and also features the work of Margot’s parents. Her mother, Muriel Boyd Sandeman, produced very beautiful embroideries and her father, Archibald, was a talented water-colourist.

Many people will remember the solo exhibition of Margot’s paintings at the Burnside Gallery in Brodick in 2004. It was a particularly fitting place to show the work of an artist who visited Arran as a child with her artist parents every summer and later with her close friend Joan Eardley while they were both studying at Glasgow School of Art. In the 1950s Margot and her husband James Robson, a potter, bought The Bothy in High Corrie, and became even more closely attached to the island.

Margot Sandeman loved Arran. She painted in and around the clachan, looking out to the sea which in her paintings is often spangled with white yachts, or else looking inland to the pattern of birch, hawthorn, bracken and heather, sheep and running burns. Her lyrical vision was strongly emphasised by her power of rhythmical composition, strengthened by underlying control. The many admirers of her work will find it well worth while to go and see this exhibition of her work in Glasgow

We ask readers to send us a note of any book or books they like a lot. No need for a detailed review – a couple of lines to say what’s good about it will do. John Roberts sends a tip about C.J. Samson.

For anyone who does not yet know the historical novels of C.J.Sansom, I would like to recommend them very highly indeed. Set in the reign of Henry VIII, they deal with crimes and mysteries mostly connected with important aspects of that reign (such as the dissolution of the monasteries) through the eyes of Matthew Shardlake, a hunchbacked lawyer of great integrity and human sensitivity. Shardlake's views on the burning issues of his day, especially religion, are enlightened, and, while not anachronistic, likely to find sympathy with the modern reader. The plots are complex and engrossing, the set piece evocations of scenes and events of Tudor times are convincing, and the characters, major and minor, that Shardlake comes into contact with keep the reader's interest on the boil. The books so far published in the series are:

• Sansom, C.J. (2003). Dissolution. London: MacMillan. ISBN 1-4050-0542-4.
• Sansom, C.J. (2004). Dark Fire. London: MacMillan. ISBN 1-4050-0544-0.
• Sansom, C.J. (2006). Sovereign. London: MacMillan. ISBN 1-4050-0548-9.
• Sansom, C.J. (2008). Revelation. London: MacMillan. ISBN 1-4050-9272-2.
• Sansom, C.J. (2010). Heartstone. London: Mantle. ISBN 1-4050-9273-4.

Sansom has also written a novel dealing with Spain just after the Civil War that will please many readers:
Sansom, C.J. (2006). Winter in Madrid. London: MacMillan. ISBN 1-4050-0546-7.

Team Twenty Ten by George Korankye is a fantasy thriller with a radiographer as its hero, ably assisted by his intrepid pharmacist wife. In a scenario where a new form of flu has got totally out of hand, the pair of them hold the key to a way to save the world. The action is fast and furious, ranging from laboratory to hospital and even to an archaeological dig on Iona, for the great threat has origins that stretch back into history.

The author, himself a radiologist, knows what he is writing about, and the story unfolds with a terrifying speed, impossible to dismiss. Heart-warmingly, 60% of any royalties from the book go to a medical charity.

Team Twenty Ten retails at £9.99, but you have a chance of winning a free copy! Just send an e-mail to www.voiceforarran.com with your name and postal address, and Team Twenty Ten in the subject line. The lucky winner’s name will be announced next month, unless he/she would prefer to remain anonymous.

Team Twenty Ten, George Korankye, McTaggart Publishing, ISBN  N 978-1453804414

Same idea – if you have a favourite website, maybe you’d like to share it with other people. So far, we have the following:

www.topdocumentaryfilms.com is a great website. It provides a vast library of documentaries from BBC, ITV, National Geographic and numerous other sources.

www.truthout.org has a new edition every day, bringing the views of dissenting, intelligent Americans on what is happening in their country and the world. Shrewd and often shocking in its revelations. Astonishingly interesting. No charge, but subs are welcomed.

The Scottish Review, at www.admin@contemporaryscotland.com, edited by Kenneth Roy, is investigative journalism at its best. Islay McLeod’s photos alone make it worth while, but there’s a lot of pithy comment, too. Three times a week, free, as above.

Jim Henderson of Lamlash continues his story of how the Clearances caused so many Arran residents to emigrate to  the Megantic County of Canada. Here, he gives some of the background to what happened, but in future issues he will be providing a further mass of detail about the Arran families who helped to found such a robust community. Today, over 4 million Canadians claim Scottish heritage, and Arran people played a strong part in establishing that inheritance.

There were good reasons for Arran people to leave the island and take ship to an unknown country on the other side of the world – and they were not alone in their decision. In 1853 it was reported in Inverness that 3,463,292 emigrants left Scottish shores for Canada, America or Australia. The average rent per croft in 1800 was around £5.00, with increases annually of one or two shillings. The average rent was £20.00 per annum,  with only 6 farms on Arran paying over £100.00 per annum, but as hardship grew, the rent increases became harder to find.

The Highland Clearances, as they are usually known, were one of the saddest times of Scottish history. They actually began in lowland Scotland, but the Highland Clearances were originated in Sutherland by Sir John Sinclair in 1792, when he introduced Cheviot sheep and ordered the destruction of the black houses on his estate at Ulbster Thurso. This profitable idea quickly spread to all of Scotland and the Islands. Sir John was appointed as the first president of the Board of Agriculture and founded the British Wool Society. On his estate he initiated many new agriculture methods, adopting field enclosures, crop rotation and, above all, sheep, which had the greatest and most damaging effect on the Highland way of life. At Langwell he evicted 80 families to create a large sheep farm, having found that the Cheviot sheep were proving to be very profitable. They produced good quality fleece and meat with little or no maintenance, because the sheep were hardy enough to look after themselves on the Highland hills.

The people left Scotland with few possessions. But they took what was of more value, their language, music and traditions of story telling, their poetry and their long memories. In their meagre baggage, the most cherished items were their Gaelic Bibles, bagpipes and the Scottish Plaid – and of course, the essential spinning wheels.

The wave of Scottish emigration lasted for decades. One of the first emigrant ships was the ‘Hector’, sailing from Loch Broom in 1772 for Pictou, Nova Scotia, but the first Arran contingent departed in April 1829 on the brig ‘Caledonia’, starting from Greenock but anchored in Lamlash Bay to embark the Arran families bound for Quebec. They arrived
on Thursday 25th June, sailing up the St Lawrence seaway, and after the long voyage with nothing to look at but sea and sky, they gazed at the whitewashed cottages by the riverside with eager anticipation. But they hadn’t arrived at their final destination yet.

After two becalmed days without a puff of wind to fill the sails of the ‘Caledonia’, Captain Miller decided to have the brig towed by a paddle steamer to the final destination of Montreal. In this slightly ignominious manner they arrived at Point St Charles, Montreal, and ventured down the gangplank to test their land legs. They had no idea of where they were to go, so they made a temporary camp to await the arrival of Mr Buchanan, the Quebec immigration agent. It was his job to allocate land in Renfrew County, Ontario, on the Ottawa River. This area south west of Montreal was part of Upper Canada, first colonised five years previously, in 1824 – but when Mr Buchanan arrived, he did not seem happy to send this new wave of immigrants there. He advised the Arran contingent that they would be much better off heading for Megantic County in Lower Canada instead. He reinforced his advice by telling the company that Renfrew County was unsuitable and unhealthy, being subject to fevers etc., and painted an alarmingly grim picture of the place to reinforce his recommendation. After a somewhat dismayed hasty conference, it was agreed that a deputation of four persons – two McKillops and two  Kelsos – were taken to inspect the new area while they others sat tight. The four men returned with good reports. They had been impressed with the quality of the soil and the beauty of the area, the scene being enhanced by the time of year. In late June, everything was green and looked at its best.

Megantic County is located in the Appalachian Mountains, a beautiful area with commanding views of the surrounding landscape. It lies approximately 50 miles south east of St Nicholas, on the opposite side of the St Lawrence from Quebec. The Arran contingent packed up their temporary camp and hired a barge to take them back up the river to St Nicholas. On arrival, there were no friends and family member to help them as they had when they embarked from Lamlash. They had to engage French Canadians to transport their belongings on carts pulled by single horses, and they probably realised for the first time just what it means to move from a small place to a vast one. They were faced with a trek of 45–50 miles over rough terrain with little or no tracks, and the journey took them nearly 3 days. By the time the travel-weary group arrived at a clearing on a farm owned by John Hart by Lac Joseph (at one time called Loch Lomond) on the Becancour River it was late July.

Next  month – Getting Started

Uniquely in the US, the State of North Dakota owns its own bank. Quakers introduced public banking in their original colony of Pennsylvania, but North Dakota is the only state to have preserved the idea. It founded the Bank of North Dakota (BND) in 1919 to ensure a dependable supply of affordable credit for its farmers, ranchers and businesses, and is still thriving. Today, North Dakota is the only American state that can show a major budget surplus. It makes low interest loans to students, existing small businesses and start-ups, and it has the lowest unemployment and default rates in the country.

So how does it work? All the state's revenues are deposited in the BND, which pays only one dividend to its single joint shareholder - the people of the state. It has no private shareholders who seek short-term profits as their highest priority, but returns its profits to the general fund of the public entity. It is in fact what is now called a social enterprise. Our own Co-op bank works in the same way. So has the Post Office until now, though with privatisation that is set to change.

People seldom realise that private banks such as Barclays, RBS etc charge interest to themselves. This means that any project they back carries an interest cost of, on average, 50%. Theoretically, this adds to the bank’s profit, but it racks up the cost to the borrower, who is not thinking theoretically but in terms of real, hard-earned cash. By-passing this profit-making mechanism has worked very well in North Dakota, which in the past fifteen years, despite its small population and relatively small turnover, has returned over $350 million to the state’s general fund. While the Federal Reserve has announced that the Fed will give no help to state authorities struggling with commitments and debt, North Dakota has found no need to ask for help, or to increase its local taxes or cut vital public services. It is doing very nicely, thank you.

Why doesn’t the US government – and our own – look at this as a viable way to solve the financial problems? Basically, because the cats’ cradle of private profit is too big and tangled. There were suggestions after the collapse of RBS that it should be reinvented as a fully state-owned bank with the Scottish community as its joint shareholders, but that was too revolutionary an idea to be considered. OK, then. Let’s all shift to the Co-op Bank and stop playing the mouse in this fat-cat game. Tom and Jerry it ain’t.

Jim Henderson sends us some notes written by Douglas Fulton, then the Lamlash minister,  in April 1965. At the time, Harold Wilson’s Labour Government was taking over from Alex Douglas-Hume and the Conservatives. Forty-six years later, the Rev Fulton’s words are strangely familiar.

The budget is a sharp reminder that we are not, after all, an affluent society. We live in a country where millions of the population exist in terrible conditions of squalor and where thousands are without homes at all.

The fierce competition for places in schools and universities, the crisis in the teaching profession, indicates the poverty under which our educational systems operate. The budget is a sharp reminder of these and many other serious situations – overcrowded hospitals, inadequate pensions, insecure employment; out of which it is clear that adequacy, far less affluence, simply does not exist.

The Budget is a statement about priorities, and while we are divided on the methods employed, we are concerned about priorities.

Let us pray that the attempt to work out an Income Policy is successful, for it is the will of God that every man should receive a due reward for his labour.

Let us pray that every effort to improve the welfare and educational services will prosper, for it is the will of God that ‘the widow, the fatherless and the stranger’ be cared for and that every man, woman and child may have a full life.

In parliamentary government under the crown we have the best political system in the world and good men of all parties are striving for the end stated by one of the great prophets. For  the day when spears will be turned into pruning hooks, uranium into industrial and domestic power and every man will sit in his own house, under his own vine and fig tree and call every man his neighbour.

Picture: Lamlash Church, a memorial window to the Late Rev. Douglas Fulton,

Mo Khan of Dippen sends us some great photographs. He explains how they were taken and adds technical details, as follows:

Curlews
These shots were taken on a bright but very windy day with a very high tide. Conditions such as this are perfect for getting up close to waders and other shore birds as they are hemmed in by weather and tide, but still feeding amongst sea weed and detritus on the shore.
I particularly like the picture of the curlew wading, which shows something of the environment and conditions the curlew lives in. One can almost feel the wind chill.
The curlew in flight, another shot that I am pleased with as one usually is not able to get so close and be blessed with perfect levels of light that enable a hefty zoom lens to be used, hand held, at high shutter speeds to freeze the action.

Technical details
Camera; Olympus E510 with 150- 300mm Olympus zoom-
35mm equivalent 300-600mm. ISO 400.
Curlew shoreline-300mm @f 7.1 1/1600 sec

Cloudscape. Ailsa Craig
This photo was taken on the 16th December 2010 just as a massive low pressure weather system moved down from the North. The elemental nature and massive scale of the scene developing encouraged me to hang about for an hour in sub zero temperatures . The dramatic light on the sea appears to make the horizon sag under the weight of the snow cloud. We all know what happened next.

40mm @f16 1/640 sec.

Cabbage White Butterfly Larvae and eggs
Most people are familiar with the Large or Cabbage White Butterfly that dithers through our gardens from spring to autumn. It is probably the commonest butterfly in Europe, together with its cousin the Small White. However, its caterpillars rank highly as garden pests, along with slugs and aphids. The Large White lays its eggs in large batches unlike the Small White which lays single eggs widely dispersed. The larvae stay together in a colony after hatching then disperse through the crop as they grow. Unchecked, the caterpillars can reduce cabbages and other brassicas to skeletons and foul up the insides of lovingly tended cauliflowers.
In the past infestations were dealt with by using very toxic ‘off the shelf’ pesticides that had a knock-on effect on other wildlife and probably humans as well. Many of these chemicals are now banned but help is always at hand in the form of a tiny drop of washing up liquid in water and sprayed on the affected crop, along with vigilance. This has the effect of destroying the caterpillars’ waxy skin. A refinement may be to add some garlic juice to the sprayer, which may help to mask the aroma of cabbage that attracts the butterflies to lay.
This method of pest control also works well against aphids and gooseberry sawfly larvae. I wonder why the chemicals industry went to such great effort to poison us for our own good!

Of all discoveries made by British hen harrier enthusiasts in recent times, that made by Don Scott in Northern Ireland was the most surprising. To an unsuspecting world he quietly revealed the presence of tree nesting harriers in County Antrim. I remember phoning him at the time and seeking an explanation for such strange behaviour by the birds, which normallly nest on the ground. So strange was it that up to the present minute the behaviour has not been recorded anywhere else in the world. Hen harrier is known to have used the nests of other birds and other harrier species build nests in trees but not hen harrier.

For a while Don was quite a celebrity in the world of raptor workers. Since then he has added further ‘firsts’ to his list but over the years has primarily been known for a long term study of a unique population of hen harriers on the Antrim Plateau. He has since revealed that although his discovery was exciting the reasons behind it were not. The Plateau’s moorland habitats are badly degraded, leaving birds with a paucity of cover and making ground nesting a hazardous business. Wide open to predation, Don’s Antrim harriers literally took to the trees.

Via the raptor grape vine I heard stories of further significant local discoveries, including short-eared owl, goshawk, marsh harrier and great spotted woodpecker but despite all good intentions I lost contact with Don until Christmas 2010. There was no personal reunion but when a beautifully wrapped Christmas present morphed into a book entitled The Hen Harrier – in the Shadow of Slemish, by Don Scott, I was delighted. There and then I wanted to settle down with a nip of ‘Arran Gold’ and catch up with Don’s exploits. I didn’t – and I am glad, because it would have ruined my Christmas!

There is great deal of joy and excitement in Don’s book but the further I got into it the more his experiences became depressingly familiar. Slowly phrases with which I am well versed began to appear in the text. “In all the years that Philip and I have been studying the species we have seen virtually no worthwhile conservation measures coming from RSPB Northern Ireland.” he complained. “My nineteenth year studying hen harriers in the Antrim Plateau coincided with the RSPB’s second Northern Ireland Breeding Hen Harrier Survey, in which neither Philip nor I chose to participate.” Sadly, it all began to ring one large bell and in many ways became almost a re-run of some of the sentiments expressed in David Walker’s book on Lakeland eagles. The knock out blow was delivered by “Once again people are playing at conservation to the detriment of a species.” Sadly, it has become a depressingly familiar accusation.

When will communities be delivered from such crass arrogance? Governmental organisations are unavoidable but organisations like RSPB are often only tolerated. The titles with which they adorn their employees are invented in distant city offices. They are often irrelevant in places that lack an RSPB reserve. Communities with reserves get hands-on naturalists, those without get mini-politicians and wheeler-dealers. They contribute little to Arran conservation and are often far more familiar with ferry timetables than local fauna. They plead poverty when seeking volunteers to do real conservation work (such as farmland surveys) but can always find funds for posts designed to blow their own trumpet, rattle cans or gather membership. They are masters at the payment-in-kind game. Time given by their employees has value; not so any one else’s. They and their employees are also remarkably adept at the art of giving the impression that their contribution to local conservation is significant.

Fortunately there are lots of people in Arran who really have made unbelievable contributions to island conservation. The Arran Black Grouse Group boasts several such individuals. In particular, a lady who for years has religiously collected wild food for the birds and a local man who for a relative pittance daily sees to the bird’s welfare. The people involved in COAST who, in terms of payments in kind, must have invested hundreds if not thousands of their own money. Locals who go out on a limb to ensure that the island’s rarest tree species receive the protection they deserve. People who attend meeting after boring meeting to ensure that some distant boffin doesn’t undo all their good work. Unseen individuals, who with buzzing chainsaws, remove acres of ‘rhodies’ from island hill-sides. Mostly, they are unpaid and unsung.

In the final chapter of his book Don states that “Over the years I have been asked again and again how I managed it; finding all those hen harrier tree nests …. and discovering other breeding raptors.” He says the answer is simple, “You have to be out in the field on a regular basis.” I wholly endorse his comments. Conservation bodies come to people like Don to make even the most prestigious nature designation become a reality. They have limited information of their own and out of necessity, rely on enthusiasts. Alas, so immersed are they in their own importance they conveniently overlook this inescapable fact. 

On a final positive note, I urge anyone interested in hen harriers to read Don’s book. The Antrim coast is visible from Arran but the tree nesting harrier population of that area exists in a totally different world to ours, with a degraded habitat, foxes, no voles and sadly prevalent human persecution. To a great extent Arran suffers from none of those ills; it is a very special place and long may it remain so.

Lucy is a mountain leader and wildlife guide with a passion for wild places. In the first of a series about walking and wildlife on Arran, she describes a favourite coastal walk in a winter storm.

It is a dark blustery day on Arran and I’m walking along a rocky shore. A wet wind stings my face and finds its way through all my layers of clothing. ‘Cold’ is not the word, ‘bitter’ seems closer to the mark.  I’m determined to endure this harsh salty world for as long as possible –  it’s a daily reality to the birds and mammals that forage along our coastlines.  I’d like to catch a glimpse of the animals that thrive on the bounty our wild coast provides in winter.

I crouch amongst a jumbled rib of rocks separating two sandy bays. On the beach either side I spot groups of bold oyster-catchers. These birds can be found everywhere along the coast of Arran, unmistakable with their black and white plumage and long red bill and legs. In spring their indignant cries can be heard up and down the island as they defend their territories from each other as well as from marauding gulls and careless humans.  Today, they are conserving energy, and my presence raises barely a flutter. They forage in the piles of seaweed strewn across the beach, using their beaks to root through the fronds, hunting soft creatures and molluscs.

Further down the beach, redshanks scurry amongst the foam.  Their little grey bodies tip back and forth in the surf like toy boats. They stab their delicate beaks in to the surging waves. Every now and then I catch a glimpse of their long legs in crimson stockings. I wonder how such a slight and impractically-dressed bird can find a living at the water’s edge on a day like today.

Concentrating harder, I can see small birds that move like clockwork pebbles amongst the redshanks. Ringed plovers are tiny reminders of the toughness that lies beneath nature’s beauty.  Close up, their striped heads and orange beaks make them look like minuscule clowns.  From a distance, they are almost invisible. Suddenly they lift up in a flash of barred wings. Alarm spreads up the beach as a female sparrow-hawk darts amongst the boulders. She tests first the oyster-catchers, then the smaller birds in the surf.  Angry cries are carried on the wind.  She retreats, hunt unsuccessful, to a hollow bank at the back of the beach.  I can see her beady eye watching intently from the dark cover. She will try her luck again. What she is doing away from her usual woodland and hedgerow haunts I can’t say, but perhaps when the weather is cold she too finds easiest pickings on the beach.

When winter bites, Arran is a haven for wildfowl and other birds. The temperatures are milder at the coast, and even the blackbirds and the pipits know there is food to be found amongst the rotting seaweed. Many of the birds along the shore are winter visitors. Some like the redshank, come from as far away as Iceland.

My eye is drawn out to sea, where a pair of eiders sit amongst the waves.  There is a determined hunch to their backs as they weather the storm. The female is dark like her mallard cousins, but her powerful shape betrays a tough marine existence. She is a true sea duck. The male is dressed in gaudy black and white. Later in the year he will gather with other males in a sheltered bay up the coast to show off his flashy feathers but right now he seems happy to hunker down between the breakers.

Beyond the eiders, I glimpse a strange conical shape. It’s the nose of a seal, poking out of the water. Unable or unwilling to haul out on to the rocks in this wild weather, the seal is bobbing like a cork in the ocean. Just its nose protrudes, and it will lounge about this way for hours. In calmer weather, seals prefer to sleep on land, and the large boulders that jut out of the sea become luxury couches at low tide. From the snub shape of this seal’s nose, I can see that it is a harbour seal.  Often called common seals, they are anything but. There is a small population here on Arran, but elsewhere their numbers are falling. We also get regular visits from the larger grey seal, and the two will often haul out together.  They can be told apart by the shape of their noses –  harbour seals have charming spaniel-like faces, while grey seals have regal Roman noses. Weighing up to 300kg, an adult male grey seal is a very noble beast indeed. 

I’m getting really cold now, my clothes are soaked and I’m ready to go. Just before I turn away, I catch a hint of something – a flick of a long pointed tail. Then there’s another, and a low humped back that rolls through the water. Focussing now, I see more. It’s a pattern of tails and humps, flowing like liquid… one… two… three… A mother otter and her two cubs are on the move. A small, pale face appears and dives.  She catches a wave, and I see the three of them, like a row of brown sausages, surfing the breakers. Barely breathing with excitement, I watch them heading west along the coast, until they disappear from view in the fading light.

Warmed by the fleeting glimpse of the otter family, I finally stumble to my feet. Time to get out of the wind and rain where luckily for me, a warm fire and hot drink await.

Lucy’s tips for enjoying coastal wildlife:

• Keep your distance and use binoculars to get a better view.
• Take your time, keep your voice down and make sure dogs are on a lead.
• Keep an eye on the behaviour of your subjects – is your presence affecting them?
• Never disturb or follow animals and birds with young.
• Take your litter home and don’t light fires.
• Look for otter and bird tracks in the sand.

For more information about guided walks with Lucy, visit her website www.arranwildwalks.co.uk or email info@arranwildwalks.co.uk

On Wednesday mornings a few people gather in the Rangers Centre at the Castle with their sewing machines, fabrics and threads to do Machine Embroidery.  It all began after an Arran Visual Arts weekend some years ago tutored by Laura Lees.  We all enjoyed it so much and realised what a liberating art form it is and we wanted to continue.  There is no leader, we just seek advice and learn from each other.  A very wide variety of work has been achieved from beautiful quilts and hangings to pictures, cushions, bags, brooches and beads.              

All one really needs is any sewing machine but the opportunities for really creative work are much enhanced if you can drop the feed dogs and use a darning foot.  The needle can then act like a stationary pencil, “drawing”, while the embroiderer moves the fabric freely underneath it.  This in itself is great fun but given the multitude of fabrics and threads that are available these days the possibilities are endless.

Last term two of us printed our own photos onto silk and then quilted and beaded them.  Another member of the group experimented with paints and appliqué, making unique patchwork squares for her quilt.  Yet another experimented with a variety of materials, including fimo clay, to create beads and necklaces.  We also fused and cut different fabrics using hot air guns and soldering irons.  Some of the newest fabrics shrink and curl in  heat enabling bowls and other 3D shapes to be made.  Sheets of light weight wire mesh sandwiched between various fabrics and stitched allow for the resulting piece to be shaped as required.

Many machines have a variety of decorative stitches which can be used in many ways.  I experimented with mine by trying them out on a striped fabric and the result was really pleasing so I made it into a needle case.  I also tried them on ribbons and braids and then joined them together, again using the set stitches and made yet another needle case!

Sometimes we decide to give a morning over to a specific activity, such as silk painting or transfer painting.  This enables us to pool our resources and produce fabrics that are inspirational in themselves.   Some of us want to have a go at making dolls when we start again at the end of January. 

If anyone would like to join us they would be very welcome and could be sure of help and encouragement.  Just ring Marjorie McDougall on 600 211 or Judith Baines on 820223.

Pictures Compas & Standing stone panel for group quilt, Betty McCormack ; postbox Audrey McCrone

Climate change is the biggest challenge of the 21st century, and the main culprit is the excessive CO2 output caused by the burning of fossil fuel. Scientists have found that Nature itself demonstrates one solution on a daily basis. Green plants filter greenhouse gas from the air through photosynthesis, as we know. Something similar happens in bio-reactors, in which quick-growing green algae transform CO2 into biomass. In 2009, Professor Hilmar Franke (University Duisburg-Essen) and his team came up with a fibre-optic ‘photo-bio-reactor’ based on the principle of photosynthesis.

This quite simple reactor can convert the emissions from heating systems into algae and oxygen. All it needs is a big tank with algae growing in it, some fibre optic cables and bright daylight. On a roof top for example, open to the sunshine, light is transmitted by the cable into the bio-reactor, where the algae ‘soup’ is constantly being infused with gas piped in from the emissions of an industrial plant. The light brought in by the fibre-optic cables stimulates the algae to absorb the CO2 and multiply. The constantly increasing biomass produced by the process is in itself valuable, as it can be used as fuel or in building materials.

A roof of 50 square metres would be sufficient to transform 1 ton of CO2 emissions per year, and an industrial roof of 1 hectare (10 000 square metres) could easily absorb 200 tons of greenhouse gas. This is more than a hectare of forest could do, and it provides 20 times more biomass than corn grown as a fuel – which is an important fact, since the production of bio-fuel in mono-cultures has become an environmental issue itself.

At the moment, these algae reactors can only be used with the concentrated emissions produced by industrial plants, but scientists hope to adapt them for use in private housing before too long. The city of Hamburg is building the first industrial algae reactor, intended to absorb emissions of one of the city's heating reactors. For this project, a locally-growing algae will be used. The reactor is anticipated to be capable of absorbing 450 tons of CO2 per year, and at the same time will produce 150 tons of algae. Critics point out that the reactor's efficiency will fluctuate between summer and winter because of the varying seasonal light levels, but the planning commission is ahead of them on that score. In winter, it proposes to use arctic algae, which are habituated to cold temperatures and work at greater intensity.

Does this mean some busy little green plants from the depths of the oceans can free us from our fears of global warming? Well, not quite yet. The scientists involved in the projects don't nurse any illusions. They admit that to neutralise all the emissions of only one big heating reactor, they would have to cover the whole city of Hamburg with algae reactors. But algae-reactors certainly have a place as one of the jigsaw pieces needed to protect our climate.

Alison Prince

I read the other day about a man whose horse fell off a mountain. He was riding it at the time, so things might have been a bit sticky, but he sensibly quit the saddle as his mount went somersaulting down the hillside. Amazingly, the beast lived and was more or less unhurt, though understandably shaken up. And the rider went on riding, though on animals that were steadier on their feet.

What is it about horses? Rationally, they are an expensive menace, costing their owners vast amounts of money for grazing, stabling, food, tack, farriery, worming and vet bills for frequent and unpredictable emergencies. One end can bite and the other end kicks, and in between, they can squash you against the stable door or tread on your feet. And yet the love affair goes on. I speak from painful experience, having been one of those tiresome little girls who shrieks from the back of the car, ‘Oh, look, look, there’s a horse! Stop, we must stop!’ Hanging over a gate to stroke the nose of some greedy nag that had approached in hopes of a carrot was my highest state of bliss, short of actually getting to ride. This virtually never happened, since a wartime London suburb offered neither grazing nor stabling nor anywhere to ride – and anyway, we were skint. But I lived in hopes and dreams, badgering my father to ‘move to the country’ where we could revel in acres of green space and have a horse. He gave me his sad smile, though he had a sneaking sympathy. He hated the suburbs, too, and had a great admiration for old, high, brick walls surrounding mansion houses. ‘Nice bit of wall, that,’ he would say in his Yorkshire way, while my Scottish mother went on being sniffy about the south and all it contained. Meanwhile, I had morphed into Black Beauty, with my hapless younger brother cast as Dan, the pony, and did a lot of mane-tossing and pawing of the ground with an impatient hoof. The only time I actually rode was when visiting my aunt, who handed me to a mad girl who owned an ex-circus pony that turned round and round in small circles for unknown reasons. Such bliss, though!

There is something about the smell of horses that goes straight to the hormones. Sniff the hands after any horsy contact and you get that herby, sweaty fragrance that makes a nonsense of the dull air in ordinary houses – or, worse, the dreaded school, flatly unromantic and stinking of floor polish, wet coats and ancient cooking. Horses represented all that was wild and free and beautiful. Oddly, it didn’t matter that the ones I mostly saw never did any galloping about. They were harnessed to bakers’ vans or brewers’ drays, or straining every muscle as they leaned into their collars to move coal trucks in a shunting yard. In some peculiar way, it still doesn’t matter; the deep-buried love affair is still there. In Copenhagen a year or two back I wandered into a yard in their very open-to-the-public palace, to find a man long-reining an Arab horse that was cantering in wide circles round him. Oh, such beauty! That floating movement, the curve of the neck matched by the arching tail, the pattern of hoof rhythm, the sheer grace and power put a precise finger on my latent adoration. The glory of it quite literally brought tears to my eyes, as it does on the rare occasions when a ballet performance manages to transcend all effortfulness and turn into magic.

Horses actually are magic. Look at the way audiences collapsed in emotional heaps over War Horse, although they could see perfectly well that the big animals were puppets worked by the visible men who inhabited them. And think of Mayakovsky’s poem about the horse that has fallen in an icy street and lies with tears in its eyes over what he takes to be its humiliation. ‘Horse, do not weep,’ he says. ‘You are not less than any other being. Each of us, in some way, is partially horse.’ I do hope he is right. At the beginning of this utterly mucked-up year, polluted by un-horse-like humans who think a balance sheet is more important than fresh hay, I have a passionate wish that we can rediscover the big simplicities instead of calculating our worth by the number of digits after a dollar sign. Arran is better about this than most places, surrounded as it is by a magnificently indifferent sea and with craggy hills that nobody can make much of a mark on. At heart, we don’t really believe in money, essential though it is. Perhaps we are still partially horse, liking and needing the same things. Fresh food, space to walk about and look at things, shelter from bad weather, decent work to do.

Ah, you will say, if only it was that easy. And you’re right, of course. But that’s the point, I suppose. For horses, it is that easy. Even if they get beaten, starved and eventually shot, they are what they are. From the riding school hack to the racehorse quivering with excitement, they retain their absolute horsiness. They haven’t the faintest notion of thinking as humans do, even if they obligingly learn the required skills, so they always hold their peculiar thrill for the complex and needy human. It is not to be mocked. Long live the little girl who melts in ecstasy at the sight of a horse, I say. Daft or not, she’s in touch with truth and beauty, and we could do with a lot more of that.