Film of the day - black and white

 Every day, starting out, may not feel like a film, but we can make it into one. Stanisław Nadedzny.
Film of the Day

Today had a special quality right from the start, a numinous energy. For so long, the weather has been wet or cold or with a strong wind blowing or some combination of these. Today there was sunshine, stillness, birdsong. And so it did not matter that I was not quite sure where I was going and had not decided on how I was going to get there, for it was warm enough to make choices as I went along, and in the end, I walked a short way down Edinburgh's High Street, but Carrubbers Close was blocked off at the far end. This close links to family history of philanthropy in setting up Carrubbers Close Christian mission to help the poor.

I walked a little further and eventually came to a close that looked as though it too had turned into an impasse near the far end but I decided to try it anyway. Usually you can see trees or vegetation over the tops of walls as you go down the closes but now, there are tall wooden hoardings blocking off any view. And there was the enjoyment of exploration, not knowing what would be at the end, if there would be any exit onto the street at the bottom, or not. But there was, a passageway leading to a kind of tunnel which went between two parts of a glitzy hotel.

The unhurried pace, the unaccustomed warmth, the boarded off closes, explorations and discoveries, all contributed to the dream-like quality of the day, a combination of strangeness and familiarity. My mother came to mind, as if this place, if not this time, was familiar to her, formed part of her early memory, the kind that shapes our bones as well as our imagination.

In this film I spoke to a man in a hard hat who was standing beside the wooden  closed off entranceway and asked him what was going on, why Carrubbers’ Close was blocked off to pedestrians. He said that they were building a lift for the hotel, but as there was no room inside, it had to be built on the outer wall of the hotel, another modern swanky construction, and the close had to be closed off, it would be too dangerous for pedestrians to be walking past a building site. It could take months he said, but it would be opened to the public again once the lift was built. These closes are very narrow and I did wonder how much of it would be occupied by the hotel lift, leaving even less space for passing pedestrians.

I went on to Waverley station, which I was going to walk through, as a shortcut to the road that leads on to Leith Street. In the centre of the station, there was a crowd of people, and a piano. I thought they were installing a public piano, even though there is another one in a less busy part of the station. A few moments later, a diminutive person came up to the piano, sat on the edge of the stool, so that he could reach the pedals – and started playing the most wonderful and accomplished piano pieces. 

 We all applauded when he finished. He was then congratulated by a famous figure, the pianist Lang Lang, who presented him with a book. Later I spoke to one of the many people dressed in black and white with lanyards round their necks, and found out that the film crew were from Channel 4 which is making a documentary on young pianists playing in train stations in cities throughout the UK.  

Through the station, to Leith walk, on to Elm Row, to check out the pigeons. Elm Row has recently been renovated to make more room as far as I can see, for parked cars, but less room for shrubbery and greenery. But at least they have still kept a line of trees.

The day’s last participants were at dusk, walking home, the peaceful hour, the darkening hour, and so many birds singing, not a grand orchestra, but different instruments and melodies, echoing between the trees.