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OT so very long now. At some point in the sec­ond half of 2018 the V&A Dundee will open its doors for the first time, mark­ing the pub­lic chris­ten­ing of a build­ing de­signed by Kengo Kuma that has cost in the re­gion of £80 mil­lion and rep­re­sents an­other gi­ant step in Dundee’s re­vival.

Kuma’s 21st-cen­tury zig­gu­rat sits snugly along­side Cap­tain Scott’s Dis­cov­ery and a mere hop, skip and dropped stitch away from the Dundee Con­tem­po­rary Arts cen­tre.

When it opens the V&A will shift the cul­tural heart of the city closer to the River Tay and, who knows, it might even drag a few Glaswe­gians to Dundee on days when Rangers or Celtic aren’t ac­tu­ally play­ing at Dens Park or Tan­nadice. (Teddy Jamieson)


RE­MEM­BER the buzz when Glas­gow hosted the Commonwealth Games? Pre­pare to bask in sport­ing glory again as the city gears up to wel­come the Euro­pean Cham­pi­onships 2018 from Au­gust 2 to 12. The in­au­gu­ral multi-sport event – co-hosted with Ber­lin – will bring to­gether aquat­ics, ath­let­ics, cy­cling, gym­nas­tics, row­ing and triathlon along with a new Euro­pean Golf Team Cham­pi­onships for the first time. An es­ti­mated 4500 ath­letes will take part.

Glas­gow will host the lion’s share in­clud­ing road and track cy­cling (cue Katie Archibald), BMX, moun­tain bik­ing, gym­nas­tics and swim­ming.

The Royal Commonwealth Pool in Ed­in­burgh will be used for the div­ing with open wa­ter swim­ming at Loch Lomond, triathlon and row­ing at Strath­clyde Park in La­nark­shire and golf at Gle­nea­gles. The ath­let­ics com­pe­ti­tion will be held in Ber­lin. (Su­san Swar­brick) Visit glas­


WE’VE been bang­ing on about the restora­tive pow­ers of coorie – the Scot­tish feel­good equiv­a­lent of Scandi-chic hygge – for a while now, but this year it is be­ing tipped to go global.

VisitS­cot­land has iden­ti­fied coorie, used to de­scribe be­ing cosy, as the big travel trend for 2018.

What ex­actly is coorie? It is sit­ting by a roar­ing fire on a cold or stormy night, wear­ing a woolly jumper and cash­mere socks, snug­gling un­der a blan­ket with a good book and a mug of hot choco­late sur­rounded by the warm flick­er­ing glow of can­dles.

Think fluffy rugs, log cabins, fire pits, wood-burn­ing stoves, out­door hot tubs and glamp­ing un­der the stars. All set against the stun­ning back­drop, views and land­scapes which re­cently saw Scot­land named Most Beau­ti­ful Coun­try in the World by read­ers of Rough Guides. (SS)


YOU will have seen Mark Stan­ley be­fore, but this is the year you will def­i­nitely no­tice him. Why so? Well, he has a part in the new Steven Spiel­berg movie Ready Player One for a start and then he’s go­ing to turn up in the Hell­boy re­boot. But be­fore any of that there’s the not-so-small mat­ter of a lead­ing role in Clio Barnard’s new film drama Dark River op­po­site Ruth Wil­son next month.

“Do I feel hot? I don’t ac­tu­ally,” Stan­ley says as he sits at home in north Lon­don. “The heat­ing’s not work­ing in my flat ac­tu­ally, so I’m freez­ing.”

Do­mes­tic prob­lems aside, he knows things are shift­ing up a few de­grees. “I’ve been lucky these last 18 months,” he agrees. “Last sum­mer I got cast in the Dark River film and it was just one of those mo­ments where you see off some fierce com­pe­ti­tion and you claim it as your own.”

To be fair, he’s not been idle since leav­ing drama school in 2010. Al­most straight away he got a job on Game of Thrones where he died hero­ically fight­ing the armies of the dead. Last year he was a reg­u­lar on our TV screens, play­ing Bill Sikes in Dick­en­sian, as a po­lice­man in Jimmy McGovern’s TV drama Bro­ken and play­ing a trans­gen­der char­ac­ter in Kay Mel­lor’s re­cent BBC One drama Love, Lies and Records.

But Dark River, he ac­cepts, is a step up. “Yeah, the Dark River thing was one of those mo­ments when you think: ‘S***, I’m co-lead­ing this film with an ac­tor I’ve al­ways watched and have huge amounts of re­spect for.’ So it was a pinch-your­self mo­ment. But you can’t pinch your­self too long. You’ve got to put aside the dreams and start real­is­ing what you’re ac­tu­ally do­ing.”

Dark River, set on a sheep farm in York­shire, is the lat­est film from a di­rec­tor who has given us the ac­claimed in­de­pen­dent films The Self­ish Gi­ant and The Ar­bor. It is a gritty, in­ti­mate drama about sib­ling love and ri­valry, bro­ken peo­ple and bare-scrab­ble ex­is­tences.

To prep for it Wil­son and Stan­ley went and worked for a few weeks on a sheep farm. “I was stuck with one guy for three weeks just shear­ing and clip­ping sheep. I think we shared about four words. It was re­ally help­ful to be around those peo­ple see­ing how f****** hard they were.”

Speak­ing to Steven Spiel­berg is ter­ri­fy­ing. He’s sort of like the Wizard of Oz. He goes be­hind a cur­tain and puts it all to­gether on the spot

Stan­ley’s own back­ground is York­shire­flavoured too. His fa­ther is a gar­dener and his mother was a ca­reer civil ser­vant. Grow­ing up, Stan­ley spent most of his time play­ing rugby.

He even left an in­ner-city Leeds school to go to a sixth-form col­lege in Ot­ley be­cause it had links with Leeds rugby club. But that was where act­ing en­tered the pic­ture.

“I ended up do­ing drama be­cause I couldn’t get on to one of the other cour­ses. I think it was so­ci­ol­ogy,” he re­calls

It turned out he was quite good at this drama thing. His teacher even en­cour­aged him to think about ap­ply­ing for drama school. He did and got in.

How did this all go down with his mates in the rugby team? He laughs at the very idea. “How do you think it went down? I think I was called Billy El­liot for about 10 years.

“You’ve got to get into leo­tards. They call them ‘blacks’ at drama school; skin-tight leo­tards so they can see how your move­ment is. When I’d go back and show the team my tights they thought: ‘Has he had a ner­vous break­down?’

“I think ev­ery­body ex­pected us to go out and get trades. All my mates are plas­ter­ers and tilers and what-have-you from home.”

In­stead, Stan­ley has moved to Lon­don, lives with his wife Rochenda San­dall who is also an ac­tor (they worked to­gether on Bro­ken and Love, Lies and Records, and are cur­rently de­vel­op­ing a short film they want to make to­gether).

And when he’s not tak­ing the dog for a walk he gets to make block­buster movies. Which re­minds me, Mark. Did you get a chance to speak to Spiel­berg?

“I did, ac­tu­ally. It’s ter­ri­fy­ing. He goes: ‘OK, get up there. Let’s see what you’ve got.’ And you get up and you do your thing and you wait for the judg­ment. And then he walks away and ed­its it.

“He’s sort of like the Wizard of Oz. He goes be­hind a cur­tain and puts it all to­gether on the spot.” (TJ) Dark River is in cin­e­mas from Fe­bru­ary 23


Lewis Ca­paldi Bath­gate-born Lewis Ca­paldi is the sort of per­former who can charm both Ra­dio 1 and Ra­dio 2, with a soul­ful and emo­tive voice. He’s al­ready toured with Rag ’n’ Bone Man and been short­listed for the BBC’S Sound of 2018 poll, while the 21-year-old’s Fe­bru­ary tour, in­clud­ing a date at the O2 ABC in Glas­gow, sold out rapidly. 100 Fa­bles It is a com­monly ac­cepted fact that Blondie are great. Thus, bands who are on nod­ding terms with Deb­bie Harry and com­pany are well worth pay­ing at­ten­tion to. Glas­gow out­fit 100 Fa­bles have snappy, eas­ily catchy new waves tunes and an ex­cel­lent, charis­matic front­woman in Lyn­d­sey Liora. Ras­cal­ton Scot­land’s fond­ness for bands to get sweaty and throw pints to is show­ing no signs of slow­ing down. Ras­cal­ton are the pick of the new­est wave of acts, a down ’n’ dirty punk sound rail­ing against the state of the world. Pos­sess­ing a love of the Clash and the Lib­ertines, the quar­tet are al­ready on the books of 13 Artists, the book­ing agency for Ra­dio­head and Paolo Nu­tini. Emme Woods Fond of per­form­ing ac­com­pa­nied by her dog, Clack­man­nan­shire songstress Emme Woods is al­ready work­ing with the Last Night from Glas­gow crowd-fund­ing la­bel. And yes, there is sub­stan­tial bite to her bluesy tunes. (Jonathan Ged­des)


AVE you be­come a ve­gan yet? No? What’s keep­ing you? Re­search car­ried out by The Ve­gan So­ci­ety has found that there are more ve­g­ans in the UK than ever be­fore – more than half a mil­lion peo­ple were liv­ing a ve­gan life­style in 2016.

From Rooney Mara to Jen­nifer Lopez, there’s a grow­ing trend in cut­ting out not just meat but dairy products too.

But what does a ve­gan diet con­sist of and what does it take to go ve­gan? Sean O’Cal­laghan, a blog­ger from Aus­tralia, has made a ca­reer out of his di­etary choice. O’Cal­laghan, who was pre­vi­ously veg­e­tar­ian, made the change after he learned the harsh truth be­hind the dairy in­dus­try. O’Cal­laghan (AKA the Fat Gay Ve­gan) now trav­els the world pro­mot­ing a life ded­i­cated to ve­g­an­ism.

He hosts a free weekly ve­gan mar­ket, takes trips around Europe as part of his ve­gan cruises and even holds ve­gan beer fes­ti­vals to en­cour­age com­mu­ni­ties of peo­ple to take the pledge and give up animal products for life. O’Cal­laghan will be host­ing a ve­gan beer fes­ti­val in Glas­gow in Au­gust.

“When I be­came more con­scious of my place in the world, I learned that my ac­tions had con­se­quences, es­pe­cially in terms of the food I ate,” says O’Cal­la­ga­han. “One of the big­gest mis­con­cep­tions of ve­g­an­ism is that it’s a diet. Ve­g­an­ism is a com­mit­ment and a life­style. It’s a holis­tic ap­proach to liv­ing by min­imis­ing your re­liance on animal products as a way of pre­vent­ing an­i­mals from suf­fer­ing.”

For some, this is the key. Ac­cord­ing to Com­pas­sion in World Farm­ing, “There are over 270 mil­lion cows pro­duc­ing milk across the world. The EU is the largest pro­ducer and has 23 mil­lion dairy cows.

One of the big­gest mis­con­cep­tions of ve­g­an­ism is that it’s a diet. Ve­g­an­ism is a com­mit­ment and a life­style

Masti­tis (in­flam­ma­tion of the ud­der) and hoof le­sions are painful con­di­tions which oc­cur as a re­sult of bac­te­rial in­fec­tion. In a herd of 100 cows in the UK, there could be as many as 70 cases of masti­tis ev­ery year.”

But be­ing aware of animal wel­fare is one thing, en­joy­ing food an­other. Isn’t a ve­gan diet a bland, stodgy mix of root veg­eta­bles and quorn? O’Cal­laghan, who also runs a ve­gan mar­ket in Lon­don, of­fers a dif­fer­ent vi­sion.

“In a typ­i­cal day, if I go to my ve­gan food mar­ket, I might have sweet potato curry pie with mash, gravy and crispy onions or I might try the ve­gan fried chicken in a wrap with fresh salad. I might also eat the quinoa and veg­etable bowl, or I might look at the glazed fried dough­nuts. There re­ally isn’t a limit to what ve­g­ans can eat, it’s just some­thing peo­ple make up in their imag­i­na­tion.” (So­phie McLean) Fat Gay Ve­gan: Eat, Drink and Live Like You Give a S*** by Sean O’Cal­laghan is pub­lished by Nourish Books, priced £8.99


Emma Louise Con­nolly She usu­ally turns up in the pa­pers be­cause she hap­pens to be ro­man­ti­cally linked with Made in Chelsea’s Ol­lie Proud­foot (here at The Her­ald Mag­a­zine we, of course, don’t know who that is). But the fact is Emma Louise Con­nolly is mak­ing her own dreams a re­al­ity. Orig­i­nally from Dun­blane, she grad­u­ated from He­riot-Watt Univer­sity with a de­gree in fash­ion de­sign and man­u­fac­tur­ing. But the big­gest steps she has made in the fash­ion in­dus­try so far are as a model. She has al­ready worked with L’Oreal, Nike, Ar­mani and Char­lotte Til­bury. And that’s just for starters. Eilidh Alexan­der Dis­cov­ered by the Colours mod­el­ling agency on so­cial me­dia, 17-year-old Eilidh Alexan­der is in her final year at school and has al­ready ap­peared in Ed­ward En­nifu’s in­au­gu­ral De­cem­ber is­sue of Bri­tish Vogue. From Ren­frew­shire, she is plan­ning to model full time this year be­fore re­turn­ing to fur­ther ed­u­ca­tion in 2019 to study medicine. Natasha Luwedde An­other new face in De­cem­ber’s Vogue, Natasha Luwedde is Bu­rundi-born but Pais­ley-based. She has al­ready worked with Nick Knight, Dolce & Gab­bana and V Mag­a­zine She also has a de­gree in phar­ma­col­ogy. (TJ)


FOL­LOW­ING on from re­cent cel­e­bra­tions of home­com­ing, food and drink, ar­chi­tec­ture and de­sign, his­tory, heritage and ar­chae­ol­ogy, 2018 has been des­ig­nated Scot­land’s Year of Young Peo­ple.

The idea is to show­case a raft of fun-filled fes­ti­vals and fam­ily-friendly days out with the onus on the younger gen­er­a­tion (and young at heart). Events range from adrenalin-packed ad­ven­tures in the great out­doors to po­etry slams, theatre and folk mu­sic per­for­mances.

Aberdeen will host the World Ju­nior Curl­ing Cham­pi­onships 2018 from March 3 to 10. (SS) Visit and visits­cot­


ERRY An­drew first came to the west of Scot­land when she was 10. It was the last fam­ily hol­i­day be­fore her par­ents di­vorced. She re­mem­bers it for that rea­son. That and the fact that the land around Spean Bridge was the wildest coun­try she had ever seen.

She didn’t re­turn for an­other 10 years. “And since then I just feel I’ve had this lit­tle love af­fair with the area around Ardnamurchan and Fort Wil­liam, down to Oban and up to the is­lands. I feel like I have to go there once a year, or some­thing is wrong. I usu­ally take the train from Glas­gow and I can never get over how ridicu­lously dra­matic it is and yet it’s part of our main­land. There’s noth­ing like it. And you have to take the wilder­ness and the bad weather and the midges be­cause that’s all part of it.”

It’s a land­scape that haunts An­drew’s imag­i­na­tion and, now, her de­but novel Swan­song, a dark, glit­ter­ing, con­tem­po­rary take on the tra­di­tional folk song Molly Bawn that frames heart-bruised emo­tion in tac­tile prose: “Nearly eleven and still not to­tally dark. I could just about see the loch’s ta­pered be­gin­nings over to my left, be­fore it stretched and got swal­lowed up by the hills and the rain on its way out to sea on my right. I imag­ined pluck­ing the loch up like a big, porny silk sheet, leav­ing a load of fish flail­ing on the mud floor.”

An­drew gives us words that sing. Not so sur­pris­ing, per­haps, given that mu­sic is the thing she has al­ways done. She is both a con­tem­po­rary clas­si­cal com­poser and an alt-folk singer (un­der the moniker You Are the Wolf). As of this month she can add nov­el­ist to the CV.

Ba­si­cally, Kerry, you’re a bit of a show-off, aren’t you? “I love be­ing on­stage and I love per­form­ing,” she tells me from her “semi-tidy” study in her south Lon­don home, sur­rounded by pa­per and books and a key­board and pipes and electronic hard­ware.

“But I also like to squir­rel my­self away

and work on cre­ative thing some­times. I like to show off, but not all the time.”

Noth­ing wrong with a show-off who’s got some­thing to show. And An­drew cer­tainly has that. Swan­song is an­other im­pres­sive ar­row in an al­ready bulging quiver.

This year she’s work­ing on a chil­dren’s piece with the chil­dren’s nov­el­ist Laura Dock­rill for the Wig­more Hall, de­vel­op­ing a near-fu­ture opera about witch-hunt­ing that is also to do with Brexit along­side singer and writer Jes­sica Walker, and she’s go­ing to be a judge on BBC Four’s Young Mu­si­cian of the Year. Other than that, there’s a sec­ond novel to be get­ting on with and a sec­ond You Are the Wolf al­bum out later this spring.

It’s a mix-and-match cre­ative ex­is­tence but maybe that’s in­evitable in this post-Spo­tify world. “Com­posers have al­ways drawn on ev­ery­thing they heard. De­bussy at the end of the 19th cen­tury was in­tro­duced to mu­sic from the Far East and used it in his mu­sic.

“We are the gen­er­a­tion that has the most ac­cess via the in­ter­net to all dif­fer­ent types of mu­sic. I think it’s in a com­poser’s na­ture to want to be in­spired by ev­ery­thing.”

For Swan­song she was in­spired by the folk song Molly Bawn. The first time she heard it per­formed was by blue­grass and coun­try singer Ali­son Krauss with the Chief­tains. “It was quite a glossy ver­sion, but the story is stark and pow­er­ful.”

That said, it was a more su­per­nat­u­ral, ghostly ver­sion of the Molly Bawn story she heard while vis­it­ing Loch Su­nart that re­ally in­trigued her and prompted her to start Swan­song. At the heart of the novel is a wild 20-year-old called Polly.

“She’s far more rock and roll than I was at her age,” says An­drew. “I was prob­a­bly throw­ing things in that when I was her age I was wish­ing I was do­ing but didn’t.

“How’s she like me? She swears a lot and I like to swear.”

An­drew her­self is 39 with blue hair (the colour changes all the time, she says). Orig­i­nally from Buck­ing­hamshire she went to York Univer­sity and once taught at the Brit School (Adele was one of her stu­dents) and now is a tal­ent worth study­ing.

And when she’s not cre­at­ing? “I swim out­doors. When I go any­where in the UK I have my cossie with me. There’s a real adrenalin kick to cold wa­ter. It can give you a lit­tle glow all day.” (TJ) n Swan­song by Kerry An­drew is pub­lished by Jonathan Cape on Jan­uary 25, priced £14.99

When I go any­where in the UK I have my cossie with me. There’s an adrenalin kick to cold wa­ter

Kengo Kuma’s V& A Dundee will open in the lat­ter half of 2018


Clock­wise from above: Ruth Wil­son and Mark Stan­ley in Clio Barnard’s new film Dark River; Scot­tish cy­clist Katie Archibald will be ped­alling for suc­cess at the Euro­pean Cham­pi­onships in Au­gust; in­dulge your­self with a gen­er­ous dose of coorie

Clock­wise from top: Clack­man­nan­shire singer Emme Woods; at 21 Lewis Ca­paldi is build­ing a strong rep­u­ta­tion; 100 Fa­bles chan­nel the vim and vigour of Blondie; and ve­gan blog­ger Sean O’Cal­laghan


Clock­wise from above: Natasha Luwedde was born in Bu­rundi and now calls Scot­land home; Eilidh Alexan­der, who is bal­anc­ing her mod­el­ling ca­reer with the de­mands of sec­ondary ed­u­ca­tion; Emma Louise Con­nolly has worked for a num­ber of high-pro­file fash­ion brands

Com­poser and singer Kerry An­drew’s novel adds an­other string to her cre­ative bow

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