I was back up in Inshriach recently for a stag weekend, a highlight of which was the walk to the pub on Friday afternoon, taking us through four hours of spectacular Cairngorm countryside.
It included a mile or so along the shores of Loch An Eilean, a fair size loch not far from Walter’s place. I took a few snaps, if only to post them here, for posterity:
Oh and there’s this one. Sorry it’s so small. It’s a shame as well, because the devil’s in the detail:
Following on from our Light family week in Inshriach last year, we decided to repeat the trick in 2010. A major highlight of last year was creating our own 5-minute ’swede’ of the The Lord of the Rings. With that in mind, I’m delighted to now unveil our 2010 Inshriach swede – THE [NEAR] THING:
And that, there on the left, looking slightly pissed off, is twenty-four hours later.
Nice to know I can shave ten years off myself armed with nothing more than a razor. Not to mention the fact that my good lady wife is prepared to be physically intimate with me again.
I hadn’t shaved since my cousin Max’s funeral back in November. I knew all along I was growing a beard for a reason, I just didn’t know what exactly what that reason was. Turns out it was #Plan9.
I’m going to assume that you’re a regular reader of my blog, and that if you’re not, you know how to follow a link. If you don’t know what Loch Ghoon is, you might want to read this.
The potted version is that late last year I saw a cousin four years my junior exit this world, and about forty-eight hours later decided to adopt a pet film project of his and see it through to fruition. Maybe it was actually just a moment of selfish psychological opportunism, a bid to try and revive my own faltering aspirations as a film-maker, jumpstarted by the shock of his loss. I don’t really know.
But I do know that we’re none of us, however many beards we shave off, getting any younger. And I know Max would have loved what we got up to yesterday, if only the sheer audacity of it. A shoot at one of the best locations in London, a cast of thousands, and it didn’t cost us a bean.
So what the hell is #Plan9? Well, it started life as just a regular Plan B. Driving back from Scotland after New Year, contemplating my spectacular failure to shoot the original Loch Ghoon teaser.
I guess I should have seen it coming, as soon as I settled on the title for this post. Sizemore or no Sizemore, you don’t get to rub it in the faces of the god of indie film-making without rebuke. And sure enough, things started to go awry almost as soon as the imaginary ink was figuratively dry.
With the entire Cairngorms cloaked in snow, and the temperature plummeting, a call came through from Walter. Just a delicate suggestion that we might want to start to rethink any plans to film outside. Or, for that matter, go outside.
If the house was to be our box, we had, at the very least, to think outside of it. I attempted some frantic rewrites, but quickly ran into trouble. It’s one thing for your protagonist to encounter an ancient amphibian aggressor lurking on the banks of a small Scottish loch. I found myself struggling to rationalise the hitherto reclusive creature’s decision to depart the sanctuary of its icebound home, climb several hundred yards up a steep hill, and break into a nearby house, for the sole purpose of molesting its peace-loving inhabitants. Anything I produced seemed to require not so much the suspension of disbelief as its unconditional expulsion.
Meanwhile, as the flavour of our original script was being diluted thus, it became increasingly apparent that the heroic intentions of our leading man – you may know him under the name of Benny Crime – were in danger of crossing the fine line that divides stoicism and lunacy.
Benny had kindly agreed to take the pivotal role in our original teaser, that of a gentleman thief called The Otter (so named because of his propensity for escaping over water). His other half, Judy, had subsequently agreed to direct. Both had committed, in doing so, to driving a small and notoriously erratic car called Colin the length of the country, in order to shoot thirty-six scenes, and then drive all the way back to London. And all this over the course of just three calendar days.
Oh, and the penalty for failing to get back on time? No biggie. Just that they would miss Judy’s mother’s wedding, taking place on New Year’s Eve.
Finally, common sense prevailed. And thank fuck, because when Emma and I reached the end of our own horrific journey north – the last two hours of which were spent driving blindly into a maelstrom of darkness and snow, punctuated by occasional bursts of bright light and sharp metal – we found a house full of party. Never a bad result, au contraire, but no place for an elaborate and already wildly over-ambitious film shoot.
All of which meant that, coming back down the M1 on January 2nd, the car needlessly burdened with all manner of unused film-making equipment, and my brain going overtime trying to synthesise serotonin from the various chemical constituents of pickled onion Monster Munch, I was feeling a little downbeat about the whole thing.
But you can’t beat yourself up over these things, not too much, not too long. You have to take the regret, the failure, the frustration, and shape it into something worthwhile, something better, something that couldn’t exist if it not for being forged in the fires of your own self-reproach.
So it was that Plan B came into being. Plan B, which swiftly became #Plan9, on account of the extent to which I was starting to identify with a man hailed the worst film-maker of all time – the writer, director and producer of Plan 9 from Outer Space, Ed Wood.
And #Plan9 is better. I’m not going to go into why – the stories you still hope to tell can always keep. I do want to thank the people who helped out though, I guess that’s what this post is building up to, even if it isn’t quite Oscar night.
It’s quite a roll-call. I’m talking @whatleydude, @_AKA_, @ruperthowe and @katiesol, the latter two of whom had volunteered to help without our ever having met in the flesh before. Then there’s @saffront, @scudamour and @skinnertron, all of whom had no reason to be there but for the readiness to help out, and be involved. And of course @bennycrime and @sizemore, even if Mike didn’t technically turn up, in the tediously corporeal sense at least.
And what did we achieve? I guess that remains to be seen. I’ll tell you what it meant to me though.
It meant an original idea getting off the page. Trust me, we’ve got the footage to prove it. It might be awful, but that’s got fuck all to do with it. If you’re like me, if you’ve talked up enough projects and never delivered, nailing a few scenes feels like blowing up the Hoover Dam.
It meant poking a finger through the slippery membrane that constitutes my comfort zone, and finding that I could pretty easily slide my whole body through. It was invigorating, it always is, when you realise that your essential insignificance is the greatest freedom you’ll ever enjoy. Rejuvenating even.
Meaning that, in a building full of things that aren’t getting any younger, I stole back just a day or two.
A is for AFK – I seem to get some of my best work done when I’m not staring at a screen. I guess I’m more of a pencil person.
B is for BREAKFAST – The most important meal of the day. And a chance to get ahead on all the fruit and fibre of which my diet seems to be otherwise totally devoid. Take my word for it, breakfast is going to be BIG in 2010. And fibrous. And, well, rather boring.
C is for CRUNK – My version of Lent, involving a break from all the crap drugs. You know the ones; booze; coke; sugar; television. I’m not damning them outright, they just aren’t my cup of green tea. Last year I managed 37 days. As of right now I’m four down and counting.
D is for @danlight – Twitter’s become an outlet through which I waste time and energy trying to validate inconsequential aspects of my life in the eyes of people who likely couldn’t give a shit. Which would be fine, except that that’s what my blog’s for. Going to try and mix it up a bit on Twitter.
E is for ELECTION – Some of my favourite blog posts (by me, that is) were written about the 2008 US presidential election campaign. Hopefully I can find some time to conjure a bit of commentary on the ‘compassionate conservative’ clusterfuck we can look forward to in the run-up to May 6th. Without having to break my leg in two places in the process.
F is for FAMILY – It’s the easiest thing in the world to cite work/writing/whatever-you-fancy as a reason for being an absent or inadequate husband/father/son. Even worse, you might actually try to convince yourself that it’s more difficult, or more important. It’s not.
G is for graze.com – One of my oldest friends, Tommy P, is one of the founders of graze.com. Honestly, I didn’t see them surviving the downturn, but they seem to be doing just that. What’s more, I met a few of the guys behind the business, and they’re an impressive bunch. Expect good things in 2010.
H is for HELIOPOLIS – James Scudamore, another very old friend – try 30-odd years – published his second novel, Heliopolis, exactly one year ago. It ha since received considerable critical acclaim, and was long-listed for the Booker Prize. I still haven’t read it. (In fairness, it’s not like I read any other novels in 2009.) This is lame as fuck. I will read Heliopolis in 2010.
I is for INSHRIACH – The hard-working highland estate owned and managed by our pal Walter. Just back from spending a truly magnificent few days seeing in the new year, and set to get back up there for one family holiday, three stag weekends and one music festival over the next six months. Oh, and I want to try and shoot a film there (see L). Project Inshriach goes from strength to strength.
J is for JUICE – Just don’t drink enough of it. Cranberry is best, for the kidney win.
K is for kickstarter.com – a clever little site, recognising the amplified power of Internet crowdsourcing as the basis for funding a range of worthwhile endeavours. Hope to try it out with something, quite possibly…
L is for LOCH GHOON – …a film I’m going to make. So far I’ve failed spectacularly in almost everything I’ve set out to do. Fortunately, for as long as I’m only playing with my time or money, that doesn’t really matter. Expect more spectacular failures in 2010.
M is for MAX – My cousin, who passed away in 2009. I’m going to honour his memory in the year to come, in a number of ways. (See L, N and V.)
N is for NORTH DORSET RUGBY FOOTBALL CLUB – Max was their Club Captain. Going to make sure I get a long to a game or two, starting with the home game against joint-leaders of the Southern Counties League, Frome, on January 30th. Let me know if you fancy it.
O is for ORGANISED – Not very. Just a bit. I’m talking a to-do list on a Monday morning, is all. Meaning that O is also for Optimistic.
P is for PSYCHOTHERAPY – The new vocation Ems has chosen for herself, following almost a decade in corporate public relations. Her foundation year starts right here, and four years down the line…
Q is for QUALIFICATIONS – …enabling her to practice Psychotherapy in a professional capacity. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned about what could come out in the wash along the way, but it feels great that she’s pursuing a vocation that has the potential to play to her real strengths.
R is for RESOLVE – Emma has it. Once she commits herself to something, she gets the job done. I’ve always been more of a butterfly, but I don’t beat myself up over it – it has its own advantages. Between us we both seem to get stuff done. I guess R is also for Rapport.
T is for TOMMY P – He’s getting married in May. I figure that gets him his own entry, especially being that I’m best man. Soon as I’m done with this list, I need to make a start on that speech.
U is for UNSUBSCRIBE – Meaning I don’t care how many of my friends took quizzes this week. Or what kind of dried fruit you are. Or what kind of dried fruit I am.
V is for #VHSMovieClub – and the 365 VHS videos I’m going to watch in 2010. Follow @VHSMovieClub to keep pace, and for details of our occasional outings, the first of which is the Max Biles Memorial #VHSMovieClub taking place at The Scooterworks on January 25th
W is for WILLIAM DESMOND TAYLOR – The subject of the most grown-up thing I’ve ever attempted. Watch this space.
X is for EXERCISE – kind of. Because I’m going to start taking regular exercise. Kind of. It starts with getting back on a climbing wall. Reckon my leg is back where it needs to be, and I can probably squeeze a spare evening out of the week, especially during Crunk. Probably Thursdays at The Castle in Green Lanes, if anybody fancies it.
Y is for WHY NOT? – It’s a much better question than ‘Why?’ For someone who’s supposed to be creative, I think my mind is sometimes far too closed to the more challenging ideas of the people around me. Need to fix that.
Z is for ZZZ – Every aspect of my life seems to be improved off the back of a good night’s sleep. It’s effortless, enjoyable, and a great way to experience the extraordinary imaginative energy and latent creativity of the human mind. Speaking of which, I fancy a kip. See you in 2011.
February 2009 will see our inaugural visit to Inshriach House, a 200-acre highland estate (below) the ownership and management of which was recently taken over by our pal Walter.
Our current confirmed party consists of eight adults (Emma and I, my parents, and my brother and sister plus other halves) and seven children – Sam (8), Joel (6), Amelie (4), Lola (3), Charlie (2), Teddy (1.5) and Ruby (1).
Walter tells me that the place can comfortably sleep double this number of adults, with a few of the little ones creatively accommodated. As such, we’re throwing open an invitation to some of our friends – especially those with offspring, and those who don’t find other people’s offspring utterly insufferable – to come join us for this wintery week in the Cairngorms.
For anybody foolhardy enough to be considering it, here’s a look at what we have planned for our fun, frugal, family-friendly Week in Inschriach™.
The Caledonian Sleeper
This runs every night between London Euston and Fort William, stopping along the way at Aviemore, which is just a few miles from Inshriach. It has to be a better option for any parent than spending 8-10 hours in a car with one or more small children, and is probably cheaper.
There’s a page full of useful information here, including details of what you can expect with a standard class 2-berth compartment (pictured left). Booked in advance, this compartment (and, I presume, both berths) can apparently be yours from £99. I looked into buying tickets through RailEasy and was quoted £124 for a return ticket departing from Euston at 9pm on Sunday 15th (arriving in Aviemore at 7am the following morning) and returning at the corresponding times on Sunday 22nd.
Kids under five go free, but aren’t provided with a berth. There is apparently room for a Samsonite travel bubble, which looks like it would house a little one for the whole week (allowing them out for meals perhaps, and a cold bath.) Failing that, the kids can take the berths and mum and dad can take turns working through a bottle of half-decent scotch in the lounge car.
For anybody worried as to whether or not you’ll be able to transport everything you need for a week by train, there will be some cars going, and probably the option to stow a few extra items therein. (And by items, I do not mean children.)
Don’t call it a ‘rota’
Our friend Eleanor (who might be coming) was quick to point out to me that running a kitchen can become a bit of a bone of contention in this kind of situation. While some wrestle for control of the utensils, others shrug off any and all responsibility with irksome abandon. (For the record, I am usually to be found in the second category.)
With her reservations in mind, we’re going to run things a little differently.
By my reckoning we’ll be looking at about ten sit-down meals – five lunches, and five suppers. This excludes lunch on the Monday (we’ll come pre-prepared), dinner on the Saturday (for reasons that should become clear) and both meals on Sunday (so that we can use up any scraps and leftovers as we prepare to decamp).
The current plan is to create five crack teams of 2-3 capable adults, each with roughly equivalent culinary know-how (or don’t-know-how).
Each crack team will then cater for a lunch and a dinner (on different days), using a corresponding proportion of our overall food budget.
We’ll use lunch on Monday as an opportunity to horsetrade regarding any larger items we want to involve. And, by horsetrade, I mean horsetrade. As in trading horses. And cows. And pigs-in-jelly.
After that it’s down to Walter to get us the best deals possible from his local suppliers.
There are crack teams, but this is not a competition. Try to think of it more as a government black op, like running guns into Indochina.
If you’re cooking the next meal, you’re washing up the last one. Simple, effective, and a good chance to bond over a sink full of culinary smegma.
Dinner means tea as well. That means an early sitting for the tiddlers and the toddlers. It’s a chance to show some real class, catering for critics who don’t mince words. Or, for that matter, use words.
You have to cater for unusual dietary requirements. Cook for the veggies, basically, if there are any. And any vegans, though they be freaks of nature.
Breakfast will operate on the simple principle of have what you want, when you want, and leave the kitchen as you find it.
Treehouses & treasure hunts
“Because some men aren’t looking for anything logical, like money. They can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to build treehouses.”
I haven’t consulted him on the subject, but I’m hopeful that we might be able to lay some of the groundwork – nay, treework – while we have a few able-bodied men and women able to stand around drinking tea and disagreeing about what to do next.
Given the family-friendly theme of Week in Inschriach™ we’ll also be planning other activities each morning designed for children aged 1-100.
Top of the list is a treasure hunt Walter’s busy designing, using various other-worldly props (see below) salvaged from a recent 3-month BBC shoot for the children’s tv show Raven.
I dare say if there’s snow there will be some sledging, and also some snowmen. However, in the event that the elements conspire against us, we’ll also have plenty of indoor ideas in reserve, not least plenty of paper, paints, pens and pencils, and a nature table with its own weather system.
As such, we’ll be staging the 1st Inshriach International Film Festival, which essentially means we’ll be showing one or two movies in the barn each day.
We’ll try and show some good kiddie fare in the afternoons/early evenings – I’m thinking everything from vintage Disney (Snow White, The Jungle Book) through to Pixar’s latest, WALL-E:
Later on we’ll put on something for the old-timers, some good independent stuff from across the years, maybe exploring a suitable Scottish theme – think Gregory’s Girl, Shallow Grave and Hallam Foe:
We should manage to watch a couple of films at least and who knows? Maybe if there’s ever a 2nd Inshriach International Film Festival we’ll be able to showcase something original that hasn’t been shot and cut within the preceding twenty-four hours.
And to round it all off…
Plans are currently afoot for a collaboration between Inshriach House and some local restauranteurs, whereby they will occasionally cater for parties staying at the estate.
Walter sent me through some details of a menu being prepared for a party in January. It features some wonderful looking food for what sounds like an insanely reasonable price.
Rather than spell out the details here, I’ll simply put it out there as a possibility that we would be catered for on the Saturday evening, after which some of us would no doubt drink our way through to the early hours of Sunday 22nd, which just happens to be my brother Barnaby’s 103rd birthday.
And just for any gourmets among you, let me tease you with one possible selection; a starter of confit duck terrine with celeriac remoulade and handmade oatcakes, Rothiemurchus venison and juniper stew, with chilli chocolate, wee rosemary roasties and honey glazed root veg for a main, finishing up with rhubarb and custard crème brulee with shortbread.
If you have any suggestions as to what we should or shouldn’t do on our Week in Inschriach™, and are coming along, or thinking about coming along, or even not remotely interested in coming along, feel free to comment below. As a rule, bloggers love it when people post comments on their posts. It’s strangely reassuring to think that people might actually read them.
Sometimes, if you’re really lucky, all the way to the end.
