The Flying Pigs Council needs to lighten up on the city centre festivals

Ordinary mums like us are missing out on our vital beauty salon appointments

It’s been another trying week for the Smythe-Barrett household, compounded by some frankly outrageous city centre traffic diversions. Don’t get me wrong – Spectra festival is an unqualified success, and all the artists involved are to be celebrated for giving Aberdeen a significant cultural footprint. I just wish they didn’t choose this weekend to stamp it down on Schoolhill, when some of us have essential beauty salon appointments to attend!

Like all ordinary mums, my appearance is very important to me. What with the seemingly endless round of coffees, lunches and cocktails to attend, not to mention the added pressure of social media, I always have to make sure I look my absolute best.

But, with the cost of living spiralling out of control (thanks to our beastly Tory overlords) I’ve been starting to question the sense of popping down to Edinburgh once a fortnight to see my stylist, Paolo (he’s Portuguese and fab-u-lous!).

So, when my friend Evelyn gave me a hot tip that a certain Schoolhill salon (I shan’t name it, or I’d be “Dun” for!) had a new stylist with availability on Friday night, I thought I’d give it a go.

Having spent a lovely afternoon at Kippie with the Aberdeen Mums’ Fair Trade Forum (we’re anti-globalism, proprosecco!) I asked our Bulgarian au pair Snezanha to give me a lift. She was delighted, of course, even though it was “officially” her night off, and she had to miss the monthly telephone call we allow with her parents.

But she never complains. She just locked herself in the cloakroom for two minutes and shouted loudly in very fast Bulgarian. I couldn’t understand it, but no doubt she was expressing her great excitement at being allowed to drive the Evoque.

Unfortunately, the trip itself turned into quite the ordeal, as we couldn’t get near the hairdresser! Road closures and colossal sculptures blocked all access routes, and poor Snezanha got quite flustered.

I tried to help as best I could by shouting at her, but eventually we had to give up and drove home again in tears. Hers, I should add. She is so wonderfully empathic.

So, Paolo’s it is, and Aberdeen’s loss is Edinburgh’s gain.

So, come on, city centre planners, next time you’re arranging a large-scale festival of public art, have a think about which vital services you are cutting off from us ordinary mums, and the negative impact you’re having on the often overlooked Bulgarian au pair community.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? Some people only ever think about themselves.

J FERGUS LAMONT, ARTS CRITIC AND AUTHOR OF 40 YEARS ON: AFC SINCE THE GOTHENBURG GLORY

This week, I was delighted to witness the advanced unveiling of a piece of art from a long-standing creative collective which hasn’t released any new work for more than 50 years.

You will not have heard of them, as they have had little or no recent publicity, but The Royal Mail’s soon to be ubiquitous “stamp” is perhaps the most iconoclastic portrait of a public figure ever rendered. And I include in that Russian artist George Dmitriev’s infamous Barney Crockett in a kilt.

Anyone who enjoyed The Royal Mail’s challenging Christmas installation, “Strike”, will not be surprised to find that the group’s appetite for Establishmentbaiting is undiminished. This is art which is set to rock our society to its very foundations.

Rendered in regal purples on a tiny, minimalist frame, the image of the King’s unsmiling head is sculpted in relief, facing left while unadorned by a crown. These are, of course, a set of powerful allusions to the end of monarchy which need no explaining to the readership of this publication. Suffice to say that the famously hatless, left-handed guitar player, who enjoyed a purple reign was, of course, The Artist Formerly Known As Prince.

To the right of the image, in rude contrast to the classical portrait, a horizontal barcode stands sentinel, like the black monolith of Kubrick’s 2001; an unfathomable artefact full of data

George Dmitriev’s infamous portrait of Barney Crockett in a kilt

unreadable to us, but accessible by machines.

The very exemplar of our technological advancement, dragging behind it the image of a thousand-year-old tradition, as if to point up its obsolescence.

To underscore the point, this stamp is self-adhesive. We, the people, are no longer prevailed upon to lick its underside in deference. I’m no republican myself, but the symbolism is impossible to ignore.

This iconic design is due to be released in a collectable limited edition of only a few million from April 4, which is a bold first run for a print by any artist. Inquiring at my local post office after a book of 12, I was advised of the price. I wept.

LET THERE BE LIGHT: The Spectra festival is all well and good, but some of us have a hairdressing appointment to attend.