End of the line for old railway building

All that remains: only the chimney wall side of the old railway building
 stands after the three other sides and roof collapsed.

For 86 years it stood at a windswept spot on one of the largest tracts of undeveloped land in Bermuda. It was the old engine shed for a small, private railway that allowed its wealthy owner to travel from his sprawling home across a stretch of wilderness to disembark at his halt and from there transfer onto the short-lived Bermuda Railway system.

Now the depot building has succumb to the ravages of time, its roof collapsed along with three walls. Exactly when the building gave way I am not sure, though I suspect this year's hurricane season, which included a direct hit from Hurricane Paulette in September, is a plausible answer.

The small structure was an evocative sight to come upon while walking the quiet, undeveloped expanse of Ferry Reach Park on the eastern side of the island. The stone building had long ago fallen into obsolesce. The last time the private 24-inch gauge train had operated on the single-track line was 1971, when it had briefly been brought back into working order by a new owner.

Evocative sight: the building as seen on December 23, 2006
 as the sun set on Ferry Reach Park, Bermuda

After that, the building became a relic in the corner of the wilderness. I came across it in 2006, and was struck by its lonely location and the way it seemed to symbolise as era that had passed. Two days before Christmas that year I took a photograph of the setting sun, capturing also the building and its wild setting.

Vincent Astor was the man who in 1934 created the private railway and the depot building. He was a member of America's wealthy Astor family, and the son of John Jacob Astor IV, a businessman, inventor and one of the richest men in the world, who was among those onboard when the Titanic sank in 1912.

Mr Astor came to Bermuda and owned a sprawling home called Ferry Reach House on the far side of Ferry Reach. He had the small gauge railway built, linking a boat jetty and his home to what was named Ferry Reach Junction, the terminus of his short railway line (less than a mile) and the meeting place with the Bermuda Railway which ran across the island on a single route from 1931 until 1948.

Mr Astor's private train was a scaled down replica of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad's 2-6-2 Mainliner locomotive, specially built by the company of which Mr Astor was chairman. Near to the depot building is a small stone shelter which would have been used as the waiting spot to board the Bermuda Railway service.

The private railway, which also featured a small tunnel beneath Ferry Road, fell into disrepair after Mr Astor sold the estate.

However, in 1967 the estate was purchased by Herbert Bierman, who restored the train to full running order. He died in 1971, and that was the last year of the Ferry Reach Railway.

From then on, the building became a part of the quiet landscape, with nature encroaching and smothering all signs of the rail track. Meanwhile, the Bermuda Railway mainline had also long since vanished, and in 1984 most of the old route was designated a right of way trail for recreational use.

Collapsed: the roof beams resembled picked clean fishbones

It was while walking along the railway trail that I first encountered the old depot building, and it has remained a landmark point on subsequent strolls through the unspoilt and thinly visited, but beautiful oasis of wilderness. 

So it was a shock when I saw what had happened. The timbers of the collapsed roof jutted upwards, half-covered in the remains of slates, and looking like picked clean fishbones. The last remnants of the track, fragmenting and crumbling parallel lines of iron, were visible beneath the "chimney" stack - which is destined to be the last visible sign of the structure in years to come.

If you wander this way, look for the ruins of the old engine depot building and soak-in its quirky history that belongs to a bygone era.

The Petersens family band together

Lockdown uplift: The Petersens have been producing musical
 moments to delight a growing following on YouTube

Whatever else might be going on at YouTube, one thing's for sure - the algorithms are getting smarter and more refined. How else would I have come across a stunningly impressive family unit playing a delightful bluegrass-styled version of John Denver's Take Me Home, Country Roads.

As I have mentioned in a previous post, the popular video site is now one of the best conduits for music discovery - old or new. And so it proved again as I whittled away an evening jumping from song to song and dreaming of future days when coronavirus restrictions are done and it is possible to once more venture to live shows.

The evening was drawing to a close and I decided to listen to Denver's classic, only for YouTube to suggest I first check out The Petersens' 2020 version. The who?

I took a chance and clicked on the video - and within seconds was blown away.

The Petersens are a family band. On stage they consist of three sisters, a brother, their mother, and a close friend. They play originals and cover versions with the genres of country music and bluegrass well represented, but also a sprinkling of pop and even an Irish jig.

It is stripped-back acoustics played on a less common set of instruments  The ensemble features a fiddle, double bass, mandolin, guitar, banjo and dobro. Okay, perhaps not so unusual for a group with bluegrass roots, but certainly a departure on tunes such as Fields of Gold, The Scientist, Bohemian Rhapsody and You're Still The One.

Now, back to the Take Me Home, Country Roads video. The lead vocals were handled by Katie Petersen, the eldest of the siblings. There was a pitch-perfect opening, later accompanied by backing from sister Julianne and brother Matt, and it just got better and better. 

The quartet of siblings each play an instrument, and the arrangements are completed by the double bass of mother Karen, and stylish dobro from Emmett Franz.

On this song and in other videos The Petersens achieve a refreshing melodious and harmonic sound. There is youthful energy and a depth of feeling, a reminder of the joy of live music.

The band ventured onto YouTube only last year. It was a fortuitous decision as they have expanded their reach and brought joy to tens of thousands with songs, videos and live streams during this year's extensive lockdowns.

The backstory to the band is this: the Petersens moved around a lot as dad was a member of the air force. Looking for ways to keep the family bonded, they attended a bluegrass festival and saw other families playing together - the shared musical endeavour a focus and agent for solid 'togetherness'. The Petersens, who are now based in Branson, Missouri, decided to do the same.

Singing duties are shared around, with the Petersen siblings prominent. Katie, Ellen and Matt, and dobro player Emmett are strong and tuneful. Youngest sibling Julianne has a gentler style that at times features an unusual but delightful inflection in her vocal register. In fleeting moments, such as on Fields of Gold, it is reminiscent of the late Dolores O'Riordan.

The lack of electrified or amplified instrumentation adds to the sweet pleasure of the music. All six members are competent players of their chosen instruments. Above all a tight bond and a glow of happiness surrounds the band, reflected in their infectious smiles.

In these testing times The Petersens are a wonderful example of how uplifting music can be for the spirit. The Petersens have a website at https://www.petersenband.com/

Video of The Petersens performing Take Me Home, Country Roads:

Video of The Petersens performing Fields of Gold:

Vivid memoir of a childhood in the Highlands

Childhood memoir: W.A.M MacKenzie's
Where's Home? will brighten the winter evenings

As the dark nights draw in, and the winter chill bites, now is the time when many will reach for a comforting read to soften the heart and bring some cheer. But where to find a good read? 

A just-published work I recommend is William MacKenzie's memoir Where's Home? Glimpses of a boy I used to know. It is a series of recollections from his childhood, spanning the 1940s in Sutherland, in the north Highlands of Scotland.

W.A.M. MacKenzie's vivid recollections cover everything from family life, to helping out on the farm, school days, community celebrations, and a great many boyhood adventures. Although the events are more than 70 years distant, MacKenzie said he could better recall things that had happened so many decades ago than he could what had happened yesterday.

There is a gentle touch of humour and lightheartedness in his plain English writing style.

Where's Home? is a heartwarming stroll through a period that now seems unhurried and simple, with connections and bonds greatly treasured. The book is a memoir and includes interwoven snippets of local history and a passing nod to historical moments. These all add to the colour and vividness of the world as seen and experienced by the young MacKenzie.

Perhaps there was scope to add deeper thoughts on what these distant moments now mean to MacKenzie from his latter-day perspective as an 80-year-old. Perhaps there could have been room for more autobiographical additions to trace, even if briefly, MacKenzie's life as an adult. But these are my personal pondering and should not detract from what Where's Home? is at heart. It is an abundant recollection and a delightful read that offers an escape for a few hours - or a few days - to a world now vanished.

For those wondering, as I, about MacKenzie's life beyond these childhood tales, he lived for decades in the West Midlands, in England, before returning to Sutherland. He once owned the former Cathedral Cafe in Dornoch, and spent his later years living further north in the village of Brora.

He became a writer in his sixties after joining the Dornoch writers' group. He authored a number of novels. The memoir Where's Home? stands out as his one work of non-fiction. He self-published it as a kindle e-book in the early 2010s. A second e-book version was released in 2015.

In the past few years, short articles clipped from stories in Where's Home? were featured in the new quarterly magazine Kyle Chronicle, which serves the communities around the Kyle of Sutherland. This in turn led to a third edition of the book being professionally edited and including maps, photos and further writing by MacKenzie, who died shortly before the new edition appeared this autumn.

The book has been published by Carn Bren Publishing, which is based in the village of Ardgay, a stone's throw from where MacKenzie's childhood adventures took place.

Where's Home? can be purchased at the Dornoch Bookshop, or through Carn Bren Publishing. It is also available from major online booksellers.

Virtual stars: Go-Go's still got the beat

Still got the beat: The Go-Go's performed 'virtually' one of their 
hits from the early 1980s on The Today Show last week

They were one of the seminal US bands of the early to mid-1980s, and broke ground as an all-women group who wrote their own songs, played their own instruments and had massive commercial success.

The Go-Go's star shone bright and furious for a few years in the first half of the '80s, but the band has continued to regroup throughout the past four decades, and their early hits have remained memorable and fresh.

The full classic line-up returned two years ago when bassist Kathy Valentine resumed her role after a five-year absence.

And not even the Covid-19 pandemic has been able to keep them down. They've managed to perform songs "virtually" by hooking up online from their homes and gardens - and the results are a masterclass in rocking pop that transcends the passage of four decades.

Some would argue The Go-Go's contribution to popular music has been overlooked. It's certainly a mystery why they've not been inducted into the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame. 

At their best it was always been about catchy, upbeat songs played in a rocking style. Last week, they performed a virtual version of We Got The Beat on The Today Show in the US. 

How many other groups, who had their heyday almost 40 years ago, can knock out performances like this even when the band members are miles apart? You go Go-Go's.

VIDEO: The Go-Go's perform We Got The Beat virtually on The Today Show

Pandemic and the unturned calendar pages

World changed: the calendar still showed the month of March

When I returned to my apartment, just over five months had passed since I was last there. The air was stale and musty, the unmistakable odour of long-vacated places.

On the wall I found the calendar as I had left it, freshly turned to the month of March 2020. 

But now it was August.

If things had gone to plan, I'd have been back from my vacation in time to turn the page to April. If things had gone to plan.

But plans are something the world has had to forgo this year. The Covid-19 pandemic brought us all to a shuddering halt; stranded in place, wherever that might have been at the time, and adjusting our lives to the changed circumstances.

So it was for me for five months, until I was able to return to Bermuda and the temporarily unoccupied apartment. It took many days to bring it back to life - to clear away the mould and dust that had taken over, and to circulate fresh air into every corner.

The mandatory four days of quarantine allowed plenty of time to scrub away at things. There were no distractions, no other places I could go, for I could merely look out from the doorway at the world outside, the places I  had long grown familiar with, but where for a few more days I'd be unable to venture.

Then I got my 'day four' Covid test. I was clear and out of quarantine. A welcome release. I took out the trash, which included the empty pages of the calendar, those months away that had passed when I was elsewhere and living through these surreal times.

Now I look at the calendar and wonder if normality is returning. Is the world soon to be back on an even keel? Can things return to going as planned?

Plans - they no longer seem so solid as they once did. A lesson to carry into the new normal.

An oasis during the pandemic

Up here nothing matters. With only time, nature and wind, things become transcendent.

On Lamentation Hill I feel a longing. The breeze carries small, floating seeds - a foreshadowing of autumn. Trees tall and proud have grown here all the time that elsewhere I have lived and grown. They are markers of time - of the years passaging through our lives.

A granite rock, embedded with delicately glistening quartz in the full glory of the sun as it breaks clear from drifting clouds, provides a resting spot.

From this warm oasis the forest, the braes and higher hills frame the horizon. A gentle wind, a mellow hum through branches of bush and tree, keeps insects at bay. A bird chirps.

I give thanks for years come and gone, that slipped by with the same almost unnoticeable movement of the world turning, or the clouds that drift west to east.

Thoughts shift to people and places I have known. Where are they now? If we were to meet again, what conversations might we share about how our lives turned out, and how far off shared times meant something always to be remembered?

The sun blinks out, obscured by a grey cloud. The warmth fades, the perfume of the heather is gone. It is time to move on.

DVDs that brightened the long days of lockdown

Home cinema: DVD entertainment during the months of lockdown ranged from Toy Story (all four films), to
classics not seen for 30 years, such as Ghost and Airplane! - and a new "old" discovery Breakfast at Tiffany's 

In the strange world of the Covid-19 pandemic lockdown, the realm of films and shows brought comfort and escapism.

Yes, there was television news and updates, and re-runs of shows on the broadcast channels. But personal choices from a DVD library were more intimate and treasured.

It was escapism to a place of familiarity; seeing how we lived before the world was turned upside down. And it was an opportunity to suspend belief and enter a different realm for a few hours.

The films, shows, and characters became friends during a time of uncertainty.

So what did you watch during those stay-at-home months?

Here is our selection. Toy Story - all four films. I'd never seen any before, but for two consecutive weekends the saga unfolded one delightful movie at a time. 

Likewise, the TV comedy show Still Game - which spans nine series and 20 years. The lockdown days were immensely brightened by the half-hour gems of laugher. And the good news is the box set is not yet exhausted.

Comedy and romance were well served, with a sprinkling of adventure, from a first viewing of Breakfast at Tiffany's,  a delight, to comedy classic Airplane!, Friday, and the 80s/90s moments of Ghost, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and Sliding Doors. There was new flicks in the shape of Star Wars: Rise of Skywalker, and Stan & Ollie.  And the out of season treat of animated classic The Snowman, plus the truly uplifting Sunshine on Leith.

Somewhere down the road they'll be watched again, perhaps when we are back in a "normal" world. Though even then, I'm sure, they'll jolt a flashback to the strange uncertain days of the lockdown, and the pleasure, comfort and familiarity they afforded.

VIDEO: Please Don't Go - a musical moment from Sunshine on Leith.

  

This surreal pandemic experience

Tomorrow will be a good day:
Captain Tom Moore was among the heroes who
were a light to the world during the pandemic

Did it all really happen? I ask myself.
The past four months feel like a surreal dream, in which we have all been cocooned in an isolated lifestyle, a globally shared singular experience the like of which has never happened in living memory.

From watching, with unusual interest, each turn and twist in the daily news, to cheering for heroes - the NHS, and Captain (now Sir) Tom Moore, who was a light to the world and told us "Tomorrow will be a good day".

We witnessed images of city streets deserted, and stared at the blue sky, glorious and untrammelled by the vapor trails of planes.

The world took on a hush and the sounds of nature, of wildlife and birdsong, came to the fore to soothe our anxious minds.

Who will ever forget the children's rainbow artwork for the NHS adorning countless windows and doors. They brought joy and a feeling of togetherness and hope, and lifted my spirit when I saw them while travelling on a near empty bus, through a subdued land, for a rare grocery errand.

Yes, the land was subdued, but also recharging. Values about what is important in life and what are mere niceties or extravagancies, were being challenged.

There has been a recalibrating of what we know, love and cherish; a greater appreciation for the wonder of life and the world, and for the people we see, often in fleeting glimpses, but who are sharing the all-encompassing experience that defines the moment and will be remembered for as long as those us here today are still around.

Did it all really happen, this global coronavirus pandemic? The rainbows in the windows say yes.

A taxi ride with The Stranglers' Dave Greenfield

Dave Greenfield: at the heart of The Stranglers' sound
(Photograph by Stranglers French Forum)

Thirty-four summers ago, Dave Greenfield climbed into the back of a former London taxi for a short ride to a disused quarry lake in Cambridgeshire. The man at the heart of The Stranglers' sound carried a shoulder travel bag - an ever-present accessory, the contents of which followers of the band have forever guessed at.

It was a tight squeeze in the taxi. Greenfield rested his enigmatic bag on his lap. I gazed at the bag and wondered if perhaps it contained one of his many pet rats, the rodent synonymous with the band since their debut album Rattus Norvegicus nine years earlier.

But no question was asked. What else was a teenager, awed by the presence and aura of mystique of the musical mistro to do? Besides, there was work at hand to build and test a bathtub boat, an enterprise led by fellow Stranglers member Jean-Jacques Burnel. That pursuit would culminate at the World Bathtub Racing Championships in the south of France later that summer. That was why I was there. Greenfield, who lived nearby, had put in a surprise appearance to observe and lend support.

The taxi ride lasted only a couple of minutes, and then we piled out and set to work on the Ravenlunatic bathtub boat. Greenfield watched from the grassy bank.

I thought back to that day when, a week ago, news broke that Greenfield had died at 71, having contracted Covid-19 while in hospital. A few months earlier he had completed a tour of Australia and New Zealand with The Stranglers.

He was the keyboard player and an occasional vocalist. Along with Hugh Cornwell, Jet Black, and the aforementioned Burnel, he made up the classic original line-up of The Stranglers that was responsible for memorable hits in the Seventies and Eighties, such as No More Heroes, Peaches, Strange Little Girl, Always the Sun, and Golden Brown. Indeed, it was Greenfield who was central in creating the latter. He had continually offered up the waltztime tune at rehearsals only for it to be rejected, until the day came that it was used as the framework for the No.2 chart hit that was the band's greatest success.

Greenfield's distinctive keyboard playing and the sound of Burnel's bass are arguably the defining motif of the band through their career that now spans 46 years.

A year before the taxi ride, The Stranglers played a concert at the Music Hall in Utrecht, Netherlands. In the hours leading up to the concert, I stood at the entrance to the locked venue, listening to the band's soundcheck echo through the empty corridors and halls within. An instrumental run-through of the track Let Me Down Easy - a touching lament on life and death - was haunting and beautiful that early evening, accentuating the keyboard skills of Greenfield.

The Stranglers' music has been part of my life for more than 42 years. I've seen them more than 20 times in concert, across four decades. My first piece of printed journalism was a concert review of their Brixton Academy show in 1989, which helped land me a newspaper staff job the following year.

In September 2001, a three-day Stranglers Convention was held, with the band and many of their supporters taking over Pontins Leisure Centre at Brean Down, Somerset, for a weekend of live shows, quizzes, Q&As, and a five-a-side football contest.
On the first evening, my best pal Rob and I walked into the campus restaurant/bar, The Queen Victoria, and saw Greenfield sitting at a table near the door. Much has been written about his approachable nature, and that evening he was happily engaged in a group conversation around drinks with some fans. We decided to head elsewhere where we later renewed our "bathtub race team" friendship with Burnel. We'd hoped to speak with Greenfield on the way out, but by then he had gone.

Beyond those two brief moments - in the taxi, and at Pontins - my memories of Greenfield are all from the many shows I attended - including the London Roundhouse in 2007 when Greenfield's keyboards malfunctioned, causing the band to restart four times - including a complete relaunch of the gig that was at that stage more than half-an-hour into the set.

Greenfield shone on so many of The Stranglers' finest work, memorably on Down in the Sewer, Genetix, Waltzinblack and their cover of Walk on By.

The Stranglers' career can be sliced into three distinct eras, defined by the coming and going of lead singers Cornwell, Paul Roberts and incumbent Baz Warne. Each era came with its own idiosyncrasies, nostalgia and memories. But through them all Greenfield, Burnel and Black were the group's mainstays. Ill health forced Black to step away from all touring about five years ago.

Life can be said to be like a taxi ride. We are passengers, getting on and off at different points, not too sure where it started or where it is going. But the things we love, the friends, the music, the experiences; they are all part of the ride.
A quote attributed to John Lennon goes: "I'm not afraid of death because I don't believe in it. It's just getting out of one car, and into another."

Dave Greenfield has now left the taxi.
Fond adieu, Dave. Fly straight.

Online video tribute to Dave Greenfield (music Golden Brown):

Why silence is so important

Stop the noise: silence is important when trying to reflect,
engage deep-thinking, thoughts and creativity

It's increasingly difficult to find peace and quiet in today's world. So how does constant noise impact on our wellbeing, our thoughts, creativity and temperament?

I treasure silence. It is the best situation for me when gathering deep thoughts, reflections, or projecting ideas. It's as though the brain is a computer, with a special short-term memory function - a RAM [random access memory] if you will - for such immediate tasks as critical thinking and creativity. But this RAM is vulnerable to interference from outside distractions - the sounds of voices, commotion, and barking dogs, to name a few that result in a diminished capacity to conjure and hold thoughts and to build on them.

Silence does not mean a complete, deadening void. Ambient sounds such as the wind through the air or moving over branches and leaves, or the beat of rolling ocean waves, and even the murmur of indistinct faraway voices are forms of "white noise" and generally a nonintrusive backdrop to the peace needed for deep thought and reflection.

In this world of constant motion and noise, that art of reflection so needed to make sense of who we are, and what things mean for our lives and emotions, is increasingly crowded out.

Where we are heading? At the end of the day you might escape the disruptive noises of the workplace only to find the neighbourhood bliss is no more. It has been replaced by a minefield of pet animal calls and frustrated squeals, garden machinery and the sound of traffic.

Oh for the sounds of nature, the chirp of birds, the soulful swish of the wind, and the chance to reflect deeply on this journey we call life.

So if you have them, guard those secret places of silence and solitude, and treasure their redemptive and energising qualities.

Measuring the march of time's footsteps

Twenty-five years ago: city lights from a viewpoint

Is it really 25 years since we lived and studied together beneath blue skies and crimson and mauve sunsets?

Is it a quarter of a century since we shared those concrete sidewalks, bus journeys to college, visits to the beach, to hangouts, and to viewpoints overlooking the twinkling lights of a city sprawled across two valleys?

Twenty-five summers have come and gone, and 25 autumns, winters and springs, since our tight-knit group, transplanted to a foreign land, shared a bond that would stay with us for ever.

Though we have gone our separate ways, and not all of us are here today, those sweetest days live on in our thoughts. And in the memory of the world, for I am sure it has such.

Time passes, yes. But stretched across 25 years, the march of its footsteps are so far apart we do not always hear them until we stop and listen.

A plane soars, its tail fin livery redesigned from a quarter of a century ago, like all the others; generational changes an echo of time's deep footsteps.

And so, 25 summers, autumns, winters and springs have passed.

Who would not yearn to do it all again? But to have done it once is a treasure indeed.

Not a classic, but Star Wars finale is fun

Busy movie: JJ Abrams managed to fashion a
mostly believable conclusion to the Star Wars saga

The Skywalker saga is over. The 42-year cinematic odyssey that had some soaringly high points and a few equally low moments, has ended in an acceptable fashion with Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker.

But it will leave some fans of the original films lamenting what might have been had this sequel trilogy been thoughtfully planned out.

In places, The Rise of Skywalker has sparks of emotional connection that were lacking in the previous film in the trilogy. Interestingly, director JJ Abrams has made this film mostly leap over the divisive The Last Jedi, and act as a sequel to his episode 7, The Force Awakens.
For the most part you can watch this without having even seen The Last Jedi, which will be a bonus for many people.

What else did we learn from this film? Well, it seems tossing the lightsabre is now a thing, and possibly a future Olympic sport.

The humour is more in line with the classic Star Wars films, although in some places is misplaced. For instance, a jolting moment comes when Poe and Rey engage in a conversational joust that is annoyingly out of place and petty. It comes after the Millennium Falcon returns to base and, given the gravity of the story at that point, would they really be arguing about who got the spaceship or droid damaged the most?

At its core, The Rise of Skywalker is a return to the simplistic, formulaic Saturday morning science fiction shorts of the 1930s, think Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers, that lent much to the genesis of the original Star Wars trilogy. And there is a charm in that.

If you go into the theatre with lowered expectations, you'll likely to be pleasantly surprised. That's hardly a ringing endorsement, but after the train wreck of The Last Jedi it says much.

Following the story-telling void of its predecessor, Abrams somehow manages to concoct a believable, if at times contrived, story arc within the film's 2 hours and 25 minutes' running time. It's cluttered and moves at such breakneck speed it is impossible to take in everything, or savour moments that deserve more.

This lack of finesse highlights the folly of Disney's handling of such a premier intellectual property. The studio allowed the concluding trilogy to be made without first having a mapped out, overarching storyline for the three movies. As such, there are plot points in The Rise of Skywalker that would have been bettered served in the previous film, rather than shoehorned into this finale.

However, back to the good things about The Rise of Skywalker. The actors appear more natural, comfortable and real, although for the newer generation there is still very little buy-in that would make audiences overly concerned about their stories or fates.
The character of Rey, played by Daisy Ridley, shows a touch more believability and emotion. Adam Driver, as Kylo, is the strongest main character, as he has been for the trilogy.

The late Carrie Fisher returns as Leia. Her part is adequately done considering the constrains of having to rely solely on footage and outtakes from previous movies. We are left to imagine how much more satisfying it would have been had she still been with us.

Mark Hamill's portrayal of Luke, while marginal in the film, does provide the most emotionally satisfying moments. His character is one of the film industry's greatest heroes, and he receives the redemption and explanation needed in the wake of The Last Jedi.
There is still a sense of mystery about his lost years from Return of the Jedi to The Last Jedi - and in the hands of a skilled writer and director a spin-off "latter days" Skywalker movie could fill the gaps and ultimately add important background context to this final trilogy. Disney, feel free to call.

In conclusion, 3.5 out of 5 for the movie, but full marks to Abrams for the ending scene.

VIDEO: The final trailer for The Rise of Skywalker.