`A Serbian Film`

One of the most thought provoking and disturbing films you will probably see in recent times. Such has been the publicity that it has been banned in some countries and bans are being attempted in others. So what's it about?

A Serbian Film follows Milos, a retired adult film star in Serbia. He is persuaded back into the business for one final film that will secure him a pay cheque that will allow him to retire and support his family for the rest of his days. The drawback being the funder of this new film doesn't quite explain what the new film will entail. Lured by the big money Milos agrees to see how it goes but doesnt have any idea what he is getting himself in for.

You move through the filming scenes in the film with the camera following Milos just behind. He doesn't know what will happen next and neither do you, creating a suspense that will have you fearing the worst followed by the realisation that the worst is always yet to come!

Described by Garry Charles from Shock Horror Magazine as "Visually and constructively amazing, a tour de force of morbid beauty" this film will test your nerve and surprise and disgust you in a way that will capture your attention to the last. A must see.

To anyone still reading.... :P

Well its been a while hasn't it?

Finally I have came back to my blog. No particular reason but im sure I would have made clear in my initial post that my blogging would be sporadic? Haha, well maybe not. So what's happened in the past year and a bit? And yes, it has been that long!

The weekly commutes to Edinburgh have continued and after a break in the football season for Christmas and New Year the commute is due to return this coming Sunday. With the 6 Nations not that far away I'll try and enjoy the packed but not quite packed as they soon will be carriages. Which means of course I'm still living in Dundee where a mix of a temporary promotion for the past year and the state of the job market has meant moving wasn't an option. Still in the same flat, going to the same pubs and clubs and going to the same places for coffee - although a new place Harry or Henry's has opened. I can never remember which it is but I'm not sure it matters either way.

That brings us up to date. Kind of. Over the next few posts I will try and recap as much as I can about the past 12 months that is necessary or dare i say it interesting!

Trains & Tribulations Part 5

A week before the annoying cyclists im on my way to Edinburgh once again. Being one of the older trains with doors at the end of each carriage i decided instead of competing for a seat i'd stand, as usual, in the little area adjoining each carriageway. With the door window pulled down you get a great view and plenty fresh air running in at 100mph!

This train being the London train was busy, lots of luggage and the racks overflowing. The train pulls into Kirkcaldy and the only passengers to board my carriage was a young woman accompanied by baby, buggy and a suitcase. All aboard the woman realises its very busy, struggles to store her case and then begins to look around for her seat. Realising it must be further down the carriage she quickly debates in her head whether to de-buggy the baby or find her seat first.

Opting for the latter she turns to me as the train leaves the platform and asks if i could keep an eye on her while she finds her seat. No problem, i replied, then looked down at the baby as the woman made her way down the carriage checking seat numbers. I prayed the baby would continue to be amused by the toy strapped to her buggy. This she did and as the woman returned i breathed a sigh of relief.

It was to be short lived.

The baby is lifted out the buggy by said woman who then struggles to fold the buggy. She turns to me once again. She will ask me to fold the buggy i thought. If only. She looks me up and down, looks down at her pride and joy, looks back to me and says; "Any chance you could hold her for a minute?"

The debate could rage on for months as to who was more terrified, myself or the baby. I grasped the baby like i was playing full back for the Scottish rugby set up and looked down at the baby, horrified with the sudden responsibility. The baby looked up at me as if i was the Terminator and her mum, Sarah Connor, had just given up hope on humanity.

Realising i was now in danger of losing a `staring out` contest with a 1o month old i looked up only for my horror to be doubled. In the foreground was the mother, struggling with an overly complex buggy, and in the background a train carriage full of people staring up the carriage at me in my new found child caring role.

I could see them making mental sweepstakes with themselves as to how long i'd last before dropping the baby with expressions ranging from worried to amused!

Finally the buggy shifted into place, the woman turned, wholly unconcerned and proving to have faith beyond what the situation required and took control once again of her baby. It was a momentous moment, success and survival beyond all expectations!

Trains & Tribulations Part4

It's been a fair while since i last posted i know. Work has continued to be hectic and the social travelling never ending. The antics of those of the rail travelling community continue however and more importantly continue to irritate and bemuse me.

Having some free time one Saturday i decided to take the train through to Glasgow to meet a friend up from South Shields who was driving his sister up to start her university experience. I jumped on the early train from Waverley and headed for Queen Street. I didnt expect it to be quite as busy as it was but settled into my usual pull down seat by the door of the carriage.

Rangers had an early kick off but the vast majority of glory hunters seemed to be bussing it in from elsewhere. Only one brave `Rangers` fan took the journey by train. With the time barely 10.30 he was seated quite comfortably, can of Stella Artois in one hand and flicking through the Daily Record with the other. Convivial. Later as he made his way from the carriage onto the platform he had the paper rolled up and stuffed into his rear jeans pocket and his last remaining can of Stella in the adjacent pocket. Presumably this is a local custom.

The return journey sees an even busier train headed back in the direction of Edinburgh. With more people standing in the carriage than sitting compromise and understanding is going to prove vital. Not so for our cyclist friends. Sure enough with the carriage packed one lycra clad idiot shuffles up the platform, hauls on her bike and proceeds to hit every standing passenger in order to mount her bike on the rack before looking about in the hope of a seat. Not content with this when it came to her departing the train she proceeds to hit the same people with her rucksack as she tries to lift the bike down from the rack. Now having the two wheels on the ground would seem like the best plan. This achieved she decides this is not the case, attempts to lift the bike, whacks the trailing wheel againt the laptop of a now decidely angry man (clearly deep in thought over something important previous to his cycle assault) and blissfully unaware she continues down the carriage with passengers swaying and dodging out her way. Idiot.

More amusingly on the train to Edinburgh the following week, as we pulled into Kirkcaldy a blind man came onto the train with his guide dog. The railway staff, it has to be said, are always helpful in these situations. They help the person aboard, store their luggage and call ahead to the destination to alert staff there of any help required. A point that may be raised however when staff are trained in dealing with these situations is this - however well trained guide dogs may be, if you board them along with owner on a carriage that has seated areas to the right and the buffet car to the left, the dog will always opt for the smell of food over a comfortable seat! Never before has a guide dog been more determined to ditch its owner in favour of an overpriced lunch!

Trains & Tribulations Part 3

Today I sit on the train berthed at platform 15 at Edinburgh Waverley waiting for it to depart to Dundee. Being one of the few sunny days so far this summer the train is already stuffy. Being the shortest train of the day to Dundee, in so much as it doesn’t stop at all stations in Fife, it is crammed packed with commuters. In true train style the air conditioning has also chosen today to give up. What was a hot train when empty, has now advanced to boiler room conditions.

Anyhow, enough of the moaning.

It was a journey back from London after a game of football. We had rushed to the station after a quick shower and change at the pitch, a tube or 2 later and we arrived at Kings Cross. Two things were on our mind, food for the train and drink! The first drawback was there were limited places that we could reach within a limited time that sold alcohol. Therefore a queue of us formed in Marks & Spencer with the majority of us opting for some imported European lager. Having been cut off from the rest of the group I headed towards the platform only to be greeted by several of the Mets finest constabulary officers.

Due to a game being held between Newcastle and Tottenham in London earlier that day this train had been confined to being a `dry train`. No alcohol allowed to be consumed nor taken on board! Despite a plea that I had just finished a big game of football (victoriously) and was gasping for a cool beer there was no bending of rules. I was asked, as had others, to place all my cans down by an industrial sized refuse bin where officers would dispose of it later.

Resigned to my fate, or that of my lager, I started to place them down by the bin. Just as I had placed the final one down, one of the officers in the smaller group beside me stepped over to where I was standing and said, “You can always drink them before you go on the train, you still have twenty minutes”.

Not entirely sure how train security could be greater when full of people previously having been encouraged to drink as much as they could in a short space of time before boarding the train, I picked up the first can and pulled it open.

Having not had a chance to rehydrate since the game, the first can went down incredibly well. Not sure how much I should push it I bent down to pick up a second can. Unsure of the reaction of the officers to this I glanced over to both groups. An officer from the second group, on the other side of the platform gate, took notice and alerted his fellow officers; “He’s going for another!”. Then directing his attention towards me followed it up with, “Go on my son!!!” and accompanied it with several macho hand gestures.

After sinking what I could of the second can I alerted some team mates to the non drinking rule in place and they were able to hide what they could within their kit bags and sneak them aboard. Just as I was about to abandon the rest of my cans and join my friends on the train I decided one last plea to the officers for mercy could do no harm. An older experienced officer was nearest at this stage and sensing good will he shuffled over. “Put the others in your bag and on you go, just don’t let these other guys see you do it”, motioning towards the other officers. A simple play that is no doubt repeated several times over to gain trust and mutual understanding it was nevertheless greatly appreciated. I did as was told and was soon aboard.

Now the officers were from the North of England. Knowing that they would depart the train in Newcastle gave a natural time for the post match party to begin. Not having the patience to wait til then a few players gave in and in an act reminiscent of teenage years they hurriedly poured lager into their empty McDonalds milkshake cartons and tried on their best innocent faces.

Trains & Tribulations Part 2

It’s early one Friday afternoon. Having taken the day off to travel south for football, myself and a friend and fellow player found ourselves standing aboard a carriage to Edinburgh. Unable to find a seat and being in a carriage with a section separated for cyclists to store their bikes safely for a journey we found ourselves standing, somewhat unfortunately, beside the toilet. Not being the nicest section to have to stand in, we spent the journey staring out the window and chatting about tactics and formations for the game ahead.

As with any journey, especially one containing individuals from the previously mentioned travelling communities, there is a constant stream of people in the direction of the toilet, often forming a queue and waiting invariably patiently.

Now, technology is a wonderful thing. Without it I would be unable to blog as I travel as I am doing now. Without it this train that I’m sitting on would also not be here nor would the bridges we cross and my journey would be a hell of a lot longer! Mobile phones, laptops, Bluetooth, wireless, plasma TV’s, our daily lives are surrounded by technological advances which we come to rely upon. When they go wrong we panic, get distressed and get angry and frustrated. All rolled into one microsecond where something we want to happen and has happened without question many times before suddenly doesn’t.

But as always we shouldn’t overlook basic human error. A distance into our journey, a small Chinese woman wanders up the carriageway, locates the button conveniently located on the side of the toilet, waits for the electronically operated door to open in its semi circular shape and unveils a toilet the size of a small room in all its glory. She enters, pushes the button to close the door and the door retraces its steps and hides the room once again.

As the carriage continues to talk, another passenger, a burly man, stomps up the carriage towards the toilet. He pushes the button. Without hesitation the door swings into action (akin to the scene in Die Hard where the baddies manage to open the vault- this gives some idea of the gravity of the situation), unveiling not only the little room but a shocked Chinese woman, caught literally with her trousers down. The man tries to utter an apology and swiftly turns, the woman caught up in a mixture of shock, surprise and embarrassment can’t decide whether the best course of action is to pull her trousers up or reach for a button to close the door. Myself and my friend, probably equally embarrassed and trying not to laugh childishly, turn once again to stare out the window and discuss tactics at a somewhat louder volume!

Eventually the Chinese lady locates the door close button and everyone in the carriage and no doubt herself breathes a sigh of relief. The carriage passengers exchange glances, part in sympathy and part in thoughtful mortification of how they would feel in a similar position. Larkin’s ramblings on Ambulances springs to mind, `Poor soul they whisper, at their own distress`.

Now just as everyone relaxes again a new terror emerges. Everyone has now been entangled in a situation that hasn’t quite been brought to an end as realisation on the outside that at some point the woman will have to exit the toilet once again, hopefully in a more appropriately dressed state, and walk the length of the carriage back to her seat. Undoubtedly this is also crossing the mind of the poor, terrified woman inside.

A good 15 minutes pass with tension mounting both inside and out. I can only imagine the woman sat their dreaming of days gone by when toilets were locked by a bolt on the inside, thinking if only she had paid more attention to the numerous buttons facing her as she had entered the toilet, and any other number of what if’s! A lucky few arrive at their stops and can make a swift exit. For the rest of us we stand or sit as once again the door swings into action. In an act of sympathy that spread throughout the carriage every passenger to a man, woman or child busied themselves with a newspaper, magazine, searched for a song on their mp3 player or just stared hard out the window, giving just enough time for the horrified woman to scuttle down the carriage and re-take her seat.

With train travel comes various problems; cancelled trains, delays and works on the line. But next time you stand on the platform looking down the line to see if your train will make it in on time, just remember, boarding the train could be just the beginning of your problems!

Trains & Tribulations Part 1

Well for the first time I have embarked upon a journey on my usual train route to Edinburgh armed with my laptop. In the faint hope that each journey will inspire me with tales for blogland I packed up the extra bag, swung it round my free shoulder and descended the stairs from my flat to the waiting taxi with enough luggage to travel Europe.

“Train station is it?”
“Yeah, thanks...”
“Where you off to today?”
“Edinburgh”
“Ahh nice! How long for?”
“Erm, tomorrow...”

And so it goes.

Train travel can be an interesting experience. As a regular traveller of this route I know every section of rail, every bend (when to hold my can of juice to stop it falling off the table), every trampoline in every house along the way (of which there must be hundreds), every abandoned car lying on the edge of fields (presumably play toys for the young farmers), every river and burn that runs adjacent to the tracks and all the best places to see deer and foxes.

The new traveller may find this all very interesting but the seasoned traveller turns his attention inwards to the carriage itself. Each section of the route provides a different insight into the lives of the passengers. Although difficult to observe in total isolation from the outside world as goings on outside the carriage ultimately have some affect as to talk and behaviour on board it does provide a platform to observer an odd and diverse collection of groups and individuals going about their usual or not so usual business.

The route I travel is part of the East Coast Line and for me starts and ends between Dundee and Edinburgh and takes in the likes of Leuchars, Cupar, Ladybank, Markinch, Kirkcaldy, Aberdour, Inverkeithing, North Queensferry, Dalmeny and Haymarket amongst others.

Travelling Friday evenings or Saturday mornings and returning usually on Sunday evenings sees a well mixed array of passengers from the business community returning from work, the work nights out heading to Edinburgh, stag and hen parties off for one last night of partying with their soon to be married friends, elderly people meeting up with old friends for lunch or dinner and so on.

Returning Sunday evenings sees a collection of people returning from a weekend spent with friends in Edinburgh and heading homewards ready for the week ahead. Mixed in can often be workers from the oil industry, sometimes fairly oiled up themselves but in generally good humour, many from the North of England on the later stages of their journey. Not to be outdone the armed forces provide a collection of soldiers returning presumably to 45 Commando in Arbroath from some leave spent with their loved ones. Not to be outdone by elderly soldiers at the Cenotaph once a year looking back and reminiscing on fighting days gone by and stories good and bad about their time in uniform these newer recruits are quite happy to drunkenly spout their stories of Iraq and Afghanistan to entire carriages of sometimes reluctant listeners. Regardless however of opinions of war and conflicts and those that are at the forefront of such things, the behaviour of these few are generally overlooked and forgotten with the odd whisper of, “ Well they must be glad to be home” – an apology offered on behalf of perhaps (or perhaps not) an unlikely source, the elderly generations.

Such a mix of people in a confined space can only lead to amusing and strange happenings.