Reflections on the state of the nation’s theatre – which seems to me to be cautiously optimistic. I got let out to write about it in the London press this week in the hallowed pages of the New Statesman; read all about it here. Inevitably the very nice editor wanted me to start off with Black Watch even though the third iteration of the show has, according to colleagues, lost some of its edgy pace so that by the time the London cognoscenti get to see it this summer, they will all be able to say sniffily, “Huh, can’t understand what all the fuss was about”.  Well they will be wrong; it was sensational. But It does seems like ancient history now.  Director John Tiffany is expect to put it out to grass after this run. Probably about time.

We are approaching what we think of as the end of the theatrical year in Scotland, at the end of April. Or at least, that’s what we thought when we set up Critics Awards for Theatre in Scotland in the first place. Productions use to focus around An autumn and Spring season, with four shows after Xmas ending at the end of April. Then it was on to tours and Pitlochry and the Festival and then back again in September.

In some wasy it has been good to have awards away from the main awards season in February and March. But patterns of production are changing. Severeal important shows are opening at the end of April this year , as they did last year, and we are making some rather arbitrary decision about the cut-off point. We are keeping it under review. Meanwhile, any suggestions gratefully received.

An extraordinary lull in the appearance of new theatre productions. Nothing new for almost three weeks apart from Torben Bett’s “The Unconquered”, in a production essentially the same as the original which won the Best New Play at the CATS awards last year (though recast). Oran Mor rumbles on, of course. We await with baited breath new plays by Liz Lochhead and the Grid Iron crew, and new productions of Trumpets and Raspberries and The Women of Lockerbie.

The Unconquered was one ofthose rare shows which got reviewed in both London and Scotland. I gave it five stars; my colleague Benedict Nightingale gave it one. The only thing that proves is that it was at least provoking strong reactions – which I would argue is the sign of something worthwhile happening in a theatre.

The enabling bill for the establishment of Creative Scotland, the new culture body which is due to take over from the Scottish Arts Council and Scottish Screen sometime next year was published last week

It only has ten sections but one of them is devoted to ensuring that all the people who currently work at the Scottish Arts Council are transferred, lock, stock and broken record, to the new body. Why?

Ask most people in the arts world what needs to change and they will tell you it is not the letter-head or the address but the people who work there. What is going to make the new body better? The same people as before? Seems a bit unlikely. But of course once you get a job in the quangocracy, you’re set for life. The fact that they take no risks and get a comfortable salary, with lots of nice benefits, in stark contrast to the really creative people who put themselves on the line every time they do a piece of work and often live from hand to mouth, only adds salt to the wound.

So Scotland: Creative Nation – A Cultural Summit really was the best the cream of the nation’s cultural talent had to offer was it? I do hope not, and here’s why.

It’s always the best bits that get cut. Writing in The Times earlier this week about Hamish MacInnes, the climber and father of modern mountain rescue who is to be honoured at the Fort William Mountain Festival next week, I wasn’t able to get in the fact that at the age of 16 he built himself a car. Not some sort of kit job, but from scratch, using tools and materials from a local machine shop in Greenock (hands up all those who remember when there were machine shops in Greenock). It was good enough to be licensed and taxed on the road. He went on to invent a whole new design for ice-axes and rescue stretchers which are now onto the Mark VII version and in use throughout the world. As he says “I have a natural ability for engineering”.

You really have to hand it to Alex Salmond, Scotland’s first minister. He is the master of the political manoeuvre. His threatening to resign if the Scottish Parliament doesn’t pass his budget is grand-standing of the highest order. You can bet your bottom dollar that he was absolutely certain the SNP was going to win the vote before he made such a statement. The Times’ political corresondent was predicting a victory in Tuesday’s paper, long before Salmond made his announcement. But now he has yards of media coverage, all the other parties on the back foot looking like they have to do what he tells them (because if they did vote it down they would ever be able to live it down at the next or any subsequent election campaign), and he gets the budget through as well. Whatever you think of him, he makes the rest of Scotland’s political classes look like schoolkids. Which will in the end, if course, be his downfall because nobody likes a smart-ass. Especially not in Scotland. For the moment though – untouchable.

P.S. I see the budget has now indeed gone through.

After years of scepticism, I have succumbed to the blogosphere. This conversion is prompted by the fact that I have to teach a module in online journalism at Napier University this semester (Spring 2008) though I had been planning to get it together anyway. Nice catalyst.

Here you will find my reviews of theatre in Scotland which generally appear first in The Times newspaper (though they belong, and I hereby assert my copyright to them and everything else that appears on this blog, to me). You will also find other journalism, opinion on Scottish affairs (plenty of that and please don’t be shy about answering back), a certain amount of guff about mountains, music, skiing, and other stuff I like.

I hope the shade of Hugh MacDiarmid will accept my borrowing of the title of his great epic poem for the title of this blog in the spirit in which it is meant, which is one of respectful admiration.