While it might seem unnecessary to end such a splendid event as the Edinburgh International Festival with a bang, it seems equally unfortunate to allow it to finish with a whimper. Since 1982, and until Covid, the final night was an inspiring event of enchanting orchestral music played in the Ross Bandstand in Princes Street Gardens, partnered to a spectacular display of fireworks released from around Edinburgh Castle.
Fireworks displays may well be intrinsically wasteful and possibly a threat to our environment, and the current costing of £250,000 for Edinburgh's finale definitely required a sponsor with deep pockets. It was, however, a unique and involving conclusion unmatched in Europe if not the world. Back 40 years ago, it was the biggest display in Europe, demanding four tonnes of explosive material in 100,000 fireworks lasting 45 minutes.
I must admit an interest at this stage. The first sponsor of the concert was The Glenlivet Whisky whose chairman, Ivan Straker, had an unerring eye for a good idea. I, along with many others, worked for him. Michael Storrs, who ran the Scottish Chamber Orchestra in those days, came up with the original concept.
We had Radio Forth broadcasting the music so we could hang speakers on lampposts in Princes Street and a ticket-only Princes Street Gardens (I suspect we bagged most of the bandstand seats), with up to 100,000 folk in the adjacent streets (the police were doubtful but helpful). Meanwhile, the SCO would be performing and recording
The Glenlivet Fireworks Suite composed by Carl Davis, the hotshot composer of the mid-1980s. The fact that the Davis opus was a pleasant but banal reworking of
Green Grow the Rashes may be why it has not become a concert hall favourite. One year, it was suggested that whisky was included in many of the rockets – totally untrue but harmless grist for our publicity mill.
It is very probable that the outdoor musical quality of the event may have been below the impeccable standards normally set by the SCO and huge swathes of the audience may have enjoyed the bangs and the fire showers more than the melodies. The Festival, however, has lived with that kind of anomaly ever since the Military Tattoo became a best-selling central event.
The Fireworks Concert, however, brought together an unrivalled mixture of Festival believers and folk from other faiths. As the last sparkling umbrella faded from the sky, everyone went home knowing, and delighting, that they had been part of one of the greatest shows on earth – the Edinburgh International Festival. A pretty good bang for the sponsor's buck.
David Donald
There is a monster sitting in my dining room staring at me, challenging me to take it on. I am a coffee drinker. I became one when I shared a flat years ago with a chap who insisted on buying coffee beans from a special shop which would grind them for customers. He then made 'our' coffee in an earthenware jug by pouring boiling water over it.
Until then, I had just used instant coffee but flat sharing requires concessions. I graduated to getting those Italian pots where you put the water in the bottom half, the ground coffee in the holder you place in the bottom part, screw the top half on and boil it on the stove so that the water in the bottom filters up to the top through the coffee. Then I got a glass filter one which made too much coffee for one day so I reheated the leftover the following day. Coffee purists will cringe.
Staying with my friend Stefano in Italy, my breakfast coffee came from a Nespresso machine which not only worked swiftly but produced a rather good drink. Well, I liked it and decided what was good enough for an Italian was good enough for me. Were I a tidy person, I would have had the instructions for my machine stashed in a kitchen drawer when it stopped working. I bought another one which worked for ages – and then stopped.
I then got a third, the Monster, which proved to be different from the one that had stopped working and used a different kind of capsule of which I had bought a supply. Then I found the instructions for the not working machine still sitting in the kitchen. I discovered that the valve through which the water travelled to be heated can clog up.
I live in a hard water area. All I had to do was take a tissue, wipe the valve clean and the machine started working. That is why the Monster is sitting there idle, a daily reminder not to panic when equipments go wrong and replace whatever it might be with an instant order from Amazon.
Even in this day and age things can be mended. I could try to give the Monster away but people are funny about their coffee machines and, as before, I can't find the instructions – enough to make anybody look a gift horse in the mouth.
Bill Russell
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