There is a calm feeling of connectedness when watching Norah Jones' video updates on YouTube.
In what appears to be her home, she sits alone and plays her songs, with her immediate audience no more than a self-operated camera.
Like most of us, she is handling this world where we are disconnected from all that we previously knew and took for granted.
Yet even in separation, we can connect. Norah does so by playing songs, some that have been suggested to her online, others chosen by herself.
At the end of an evening I unwind listening to her solo versions and feeling empathy with the solace she finds herself in, we find ourselves in, and where she manages to connect in a creative and unconditional way. She is one of many artists who have found a way to share their talents freely with the world in these uncertain times. It is one of the positives that has come out of the pandemic experience.
Her version of Sunrise, one of her earliest songs, I particularly like.
Also, a video of four songs I'd previously never heard before is a favourite way to end the evening before turning in. The songs begin with the poignant You Are Not Alone, followed by Until The End, Don't Know What It Means, and What a Difference a Day Makes. Her voice and musicianship is a treat, and even when she finds herself at a loss to play a tricky or half-forgotten part, she shows her human fallibility in good nature.
Thank you, and keep lifting our spirts, Norah.
VIDEO:Norah Jones sings four songs on November 12, 2020
The Flying Scot: Michael Whalley in the Bermuda Day Half-Marathon in May 2011
We were both doing something we had loved most of our lives when we first met - running.
Michael Whalley was an approachable, friendly Scotsman who would always take an interest in how you were. His talent and competitive spirit was evident even though his advancing years had slowed him down, as happens to us all.
In his prime he was given the nickname "The Flying Scotsman", and in 1981 he achieved a top three spot in Bermuda's signature race, the May 24 Marathon Derby (now known as the Bermuda Day Half-Marathon).
Mike's regular appearance at races meant he was an important fixture of the tight-knit community of runners who share the pain and pleasure of the good, and the not so good, race days. Through those encounters we kept up, to a degree, with one another's lives.
His wide circle of acquaintances continually expanded during his more than 50 years in the island running scene.
I appreciated his welcoming attitude, his candor, and the way he gave support. I have lost count of the many times he called out support from the other side of the road as a race route double-backed. I'd call back. Those mutual calls to one another as we battled our way to the finish line were important sprinkles of encouragement.
Mike was an outstanding example of friendship, humanity and acceptance. It is hard to think that he is gone, at 74, and that he will no longer be there on race days. I thank good fortune that I was able to have known him these past 15 years. Fare thee well, my good friend.
After a race: Mike Whalley, Otis Robinson and I relax at the post race breakfast following the 30th anniversary Fairmont-to-Fairmont Race in January 2007
Milestone: Mike Whalley, at 70, finishing the Bermuda Day Half-Marathon in May 2016. Behind him are Poole Runners' Carole and Paul Ingham. A third Poole Runner (me) can be seen near the top left watching. Mike's last finish in the famous race was the following year.
"To all those people who are finding it difficult at the moment, the sun will shine on you again, and the clouds will go away," Captain (later Sir) Tom Moore said. "Tomorrow will be a good day."
In the darkest days of the Covid-19 pandemic he emerged as a beacon of light and hope. Captain Sir Tom Moore, as he became once knighted by Queen Elizabeth II last summer, represented the spirt of the nation - and humanity in general - during the great challenge of our time.
It started in April 2020, with much of the world in lockdown as the pandemic spread. Captain Tom captured the hearts of the nation when he set himself a target of walking 100 lengths of the patio at his home to raise 1,000 pounds for charities that support the National Health Service. He aimed to complete his 100 laps, using a stroller, before his then upcoming 100th birthday.
He did it, and in the process gained national prominence and became a rallying point, a symbol for hope, and much more. He had lived and served through the Second World War, and had 100 years of life experience to draw upon. He was also one of us, and reflected and articulated the simple hopes many had but were afraid to utter. When those "sun will shine again" words came from a man of such longevity and worldly-experience, they meant much.
He achieved his goal of 100 laps, and the public responded. Close to 33 million pounds was raised for the charities supporting the NHS.
Captain Sir Tom died this week, and there is a great feeling of loss. I reflected on what he embodied as I sat, coincidently, in a place known as "Tom Moore's Jungle" in Bermuda, although it has no connection to Captain Sir Tom.
In a blog post last June, I mentioned Captain Sir Tom as I wrote about the surreal pandemic experience. His humble humility and spark of belief lifted the hearts of the people in the United Kingdom and far beyond.
I salute you Captain Sir Tom, and I'm thankful to have had you in our midst.
Quiet spot: atop the ruined fort is the bench seat with its in memoriam and words of reflection
At times the chill in the air bites. These days of January have felt constantly cooler and more unsettled than usual.
Today the sun shone, but was tempered by a northerly wind. I found a sun trap to rest and enjoy a coffee and let my thoughts wander. I was on a small island, Ferry Fort Island, at the western edge of Ferry Reach, in Bermuda.
In the lee of a limestone fort that had been built 200 years ago, protected from the wind I enjoyed the winter sun.
I wondered about the history of the silent ruins wrapped around me. This place had once been maintained for its historical interest, but now was fully neglected with wild plants encroaching and occupying the abandoned space.
Who were the people who built this fort two centuries ago, and what were their lives like? A gleaming white executive jet took off from the airport a mile away and flew above. What would the builders of this 19th century fort have made of such a sight?
On the journey to this little island I had passed a property called Northwinds. It made me think of today's north wind, and of a haunting ballad called Northwinds from 37 years ago by music group The Stranglers. A year after its release, and two-thirds of a lifetime ago, I'd seen them perform the song. Had time marched on so far and so fast?
Atop the fort ruins is a bench seat that commands a view of the nearby ocean. The seat is inscribed in memoriam to a lady called Donna DeSiliva [1962-2012], including a few words of wisdom and reflection.
I love discovering these unexpected fragments of thoughts in remote peaceful settings, which invite a moment to stop and consider.
Upon the bench are the words: "The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye, but found by the heart."
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.
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:
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. Itis 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.
