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Posts Tagged ‘dinner’

Photo: Lesley Black.
Theater company A Play, A Pie and a Pint produces up to 40 plays a year as well as two pantomimes in the Oran Mor venue in Glasgow, Scotland. Actor Elaine C Smith is pictured above.

I’m in the middle of reading a novel by one of my favorite mystery writers, Ian Rankin, who writes about Scotland. Besides his plots and characters, I love the Scottish slang. Sometimes I even have to look up expressions or words — Teuchter, Slainte, Howff. And it’s not just Gaelic words that are fun, but the Scottish way of putting English words together. For example, “getting mortal” means getting extremely drunk, smashed.

The murder mystery takes place during the offbeat theater festival known as the Fringe, which is why a recent BBC article about a Scottish theater group caught my eye.

Pauline McLean writes, “Established in 2004, A Play, A Pie and a Pint produces up to 40 plays a year as well as two pantomimes in the Oran Mor venue in Glasgow. It has given a platform to established names [and] has also helped new writers get a foothold in the industry, like Liam Moffat, whose play Jack opens the new season. …

“For Juliet Cadzow it is a bitter sweet moment. Her husband David MacLennan was the theatre director who came up with the idea. He died in 2014 after being diagnosed with motor neurone disease. …

“This is what he wrote at the time: ‘The actor Ralph Richardson once described acting as the art of keeping the audience from coughing. And Alfred Hitchcock said the length of a film should be directly related to the endurance of the human bladder. That’s why Colin Beattie and I started “A Play, A Pie, and a Pint.” ‘

“The first show was a play called Hieroglyphics, by Anne Donovan, author of Buddha Da. It was her first stage play. …

“Lunchtime theatre was already popular across Europe but the Scottish offer of a pie made it different, and brought its own challenges.

” ‘It was waiter service when it first started and everyone came and sat at long trestle tables and they were served their pie and It took time when it was busy,’ [actor Linda Duncan McLaughlin] says. ‘They wouldn’t have stopped serving before the play went up. So the waiters were trying to be quiet and and the audience were trying to be quiet but they were still eating.’

“But the concept quickly took off. ‘I think the fact that it was weekly helped,’ says Juliet. ‘If you didn’t like the play that was on that week, there would be a new one next week. And the audience were quite vociferous.

‘They would say to David “I didn’t like that one,” but they’d still come back the next week.’

“Those involved in the shows also liked the challenge of creating a 50-minute show with limited resources and rehearsals. Linda Duncan McLaughlin has written plays, as well as performing in them.

“She says: ‘You’ve got to get what basically is a full play into a fifty minute timeframe. You only have three actors, so if you wanted to write six parts, you’re going to have to be really good at writing doubling up parts and you have to make sure the actors can cope with that. It is limited but it’s a great discipline for a writer. And it really focuses your mind.’

“For some performers, it’s a chance to return to their roots, although Robbie Coltrane admitted his week long run in Peter MacDougall’s play My Father’s Old Suit in 2005 was a daunting one.

” ‘The idea of 500 Glaswegians drinking and having their dinner?’ he recalled in a 2010 documentary. ‘It’s like one of those Frank Sinatra concerts where all you can hear is the knives and forks clattering.’

“[Icelandic] writer Jon Atli Jonassan found the 2009 run of his play The Deep helped him into filmmaking. … ‘No one wanted to make it, but after the production here, we got interest from filmmakers. It was the most expensive film ever made in Iceland and was shortlisted for Best Foreign Film at the Oscars.’ …

” ‘If you’d asked us that first week, I’m not sure we would have been confident that we’d still be going twenty years hence,’ says Linda, who is co-chair of the Scottish Society of Playwrights. ‘It does offer an opportunity for new work to be on every week of the year for forty eight weeks of the year, which no other organization can offer. So it really does have a strong, vital part to play in Scottish theatre culture and long may it continue.’ “

More at the BBC, here.

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Photo: Parklands Primary School
Children from Parklands Primary School in the UK enjoyed a Christmas extravaganza at the ice rink of Leeds East Academy. And Parklands staff volunteered their time to serve a hot Christmas meal.

Here’s a Christmas dinner story from the UK, one that would be perfect if it weren’t so necessary.

Alex Evans writes at the Yorkshire Evening Post, “Staff at Parklands Primary School volunteered their time to serve up a hot meal for the school’s 328 pupils and their families [Monday] at its ‘Christmas Eve Eve’ party.

“Youngsters were able to meet Santa Claus at the party which was set up by headteacher Chris Dyson. He says he was left ‘heartbroken’ when he discovered some of his pupils had never met Father Christmas and many wouldn’t receive gifts. …

“Each child received a Christmas present to unwrap — likely to be the only one they will receive this year, Mr Dyson said.

“The school, in Leeds, West Yorkshire, serves one of the largest council estates in Europe and an area in the top 1 percent in England for deprivation.

“Only a third of working-age adults have jobs and three-quarters of pupils qualify for the pupil premium, extra money given to schools from the Government to support the poorest children.

“Headteacher Chris Dyson, hailed ‘an inspirational leader’ by Ofsted inspectors said: ‘It broke my heart when I started at the school five years ago and found out that some families don’t even go to visit Santa, which is something we all just take for granted. …

” ‘So I said I would bring Santa to Parklands and get every child at least one present to open.’ …

“Mr Dyson’s initiative saw 150 people attend the school’s first party six years ago. The number doubled the following year and continued to grow. [Today] 800 people benefited from the headteacher’s generosity, which has been helped by donations from local business who have given cash and gifts, as well as Leeds City Council who have provided food.

“Mr Dyson added: ‘We are in the middle of one of the biggest council estates in Europe, a lot of our families don’t even go off the estate. …

” ‘Christmas is a vulnerable time for families, its cold and for some people it is the only hot meal they will get this week. I’m blessed that I have had so many presents donated that those with a birthday coming up will get a birthday present as well.’

“Mr Dyson took over at the school in 2014, after it went through five headteachers in just one year and was rated inadequate by Ofsted, the government’s education watchdog. It had the country’s highest number of annual exclusions and a padded cell was used as a form of punishment. Mr Dyson said he wanted to bring ‘love and smiles’ back to the school and has extended that to the wider community. …

” ‘It’s for the entire community, anyone can come and they all do. Our first year we had a lot of kids who didn’t come to our school come round, and I said Santa doesn’t turn people away. So we just welcomed everyone. … It’s a vulnerable time, food isn’t as plentiful here as where I live. It’s important they get a hot meal.

‘These kids will ask why doesn’t Santa answer my letters like he does to people in those middle class areas. I want to make sure they feel Santa hasn’t forgotten about them.’

More.

Just a reminder about the miracle of great teachers.

Hat tip: @HertsLearning on twitter.

 

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An experimental theater piece to test the Theory of Purposefully Divided Attention to Fend Off Meltdowns.
Cast: Grandma (G), Adult One (1), Adult Two (2), Adult Three (3), Small Child (Small)
Setting: Dinner table

G: Why is your hairdresser your hero?

1: She’s a real bootstrap entrepreneur. She’ll try anything.

G: Is that a blackberry in your popsicle?

Small: No, a blueberry.

2: Well, when you have kids, you can’t participate in every charity event or random partnership.

3: You have to prioritize, be strategic. Know when to say no.

1: But she has a great community reputation. She’s so upbeat.

G: I really think that’s a blackberry. Like Mrs. Rabbit’s in Peter Rabbit. Supporting everything in the community can add up.

1: It rolls up.

3: But you can waste a lot of time.

2: And energy.

G: People are grateful, though. If you’re strategic, you miss the kind of opportunities that you have no idea where they will lead. I like the way that popsicle drips right into the holder. It’s less messy.

Small: Do you want one?

G: I don’t want to take your last popsicle.

Small: We can make more.

G: Maybe after dinner.

Small: Let’s do it!

G: Careful — the juice is spilling. One and one and 50 make a million. It’s good to be open to serendipity if you possibly can.

2: There are only so many hours in the day.

3: Numerous small investments can’t get what one big investment would.

G: Do you want a napkin?

Small: I got a green popsicle at Whole Foods, but it dripped all over my dragon shirt. It was green.

G: There is nothing like a reputation for being upbeat and cooperative. I know where we can pick blackberries for the next batch of popsicles.

Small: But you have to add juice so it sticks together.

1: We now trade services. She does that with almost everyone. I feel like she could teach a class in entrepreneurship.

G: Teach one together, how about?

Small: Do you want a popsicle? Do you want one now?

G: Maybe after dinner. Look, that’s a raspberry. Or do you think it’s a strawberry?

Small: Do you want a popsicle now? I can go get it. We can make more later. Yes or no?

G: OK. Yes.

Small: Say, Please.

G: Yes, please.

Photo: Matthew Klein

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Sweden has taken in a lot of refugees from troubled countries, but like the U.S., it sometimes struggles to find the best approach for absorbing the influx.

At the NY Times, Suzanne Daley writes about one Swede who may have found an important way to speed integration, a way that enriches the experience of Swedes and newcomers alike.

“Last year, when Ebba Akerman, 31, was teaching Swedish to immigrants in the suburbs of this city, she ran into one of her students on the train and asked him whether he enjoyed living in her country.

“She found the answer deeply disturbing. The man shrugged, saying his life here was not much different from the one he had left behind in Afghanistan. It became clear to her that most of her students, living in neighborhoods packed with immigrants, had virtually no contact with native Swedes.

“In the months that followed, Ms. Akerman decided to try to change that, calling herself the minister of dinners in charge of the Department of Invitations and using Facebook and Instagram to try to bring individual Swedes and immigrants together for a meal, something like a dating service.

“ ‘We let people into our country, but not into our society,’ Ms. Akerman said on a recent Friday night. … ‘I finally decided that I had to do something. I could be the connector.’ …

“On a recent evening, Ms. Akerman was feeding about a dozen people, including a middle-aged couple from Bangladesh who had brought a chicken dish, a recent arrival from Cameroon with her two children, a Swedish marketing expert, the mother of one of Ms. Akerman’s friends and a young Swedish doctor in training, all of whom had been early participants in her project. All told stories of good times and miscues.

“The marketing expert, Henrik Evrell, said he had served spaghetti Bolognese, the most Swedish dish he knew, to his guest from Ivory Coast. At first they had trouble communicating because his guest’s Swedish was so poor. But soon they discovered that they both spoke French and loved the same Ivory Coast musicians. After eating, they spent the rest of the evening in front of a computer, taking turns pulling up music on Spotify that each thought the other would like.” More here.

Photo: Casper Hedberg for The New York Times
Ebba Akerman set a table on her backyard for a meal that brought Swedes and immigrants together. 

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Margareta suggests that dinner in the lusthus might make a nice post.

Google Translate informs me that a “lusthus” is a “gazebo.” If you break it into two words, it’s “desire house.” I will ask Erik to explain more about that.

Judging from the light and the absence of high chairs, the folks are having a late dinner, after the young laird has retired for the evening. Everyone looks relaxed. I think it is a kind of shrimp they are eating.

lusthus

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calm-dining

nighttime-gazebo

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