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c0pies of The Shetland Times and The Buchan Observer; but the real work of the department extends beyond the University, beyond Edinburgh, and out into the realms of a little-known country called Scotland.
Since its establishment in 1951, the School has packed the labyrinth of rooms inside its three interlocking 18th century buildings with an extraordinary archive of tapes and photographs, the harvest of innumerable research-trips to every corner of the native field. In the archivist’s office upstairs, five desks pushed together are lost, while under a sea of books and papers, on the other side of the room, order reigns in a stiff rank of filing-cabinets. Opening at random one of ninety-nine drawers, I pull out two index-cards referring respectively to Terms for Cut Corn and to Children’s Terms for Playing Truant. It is reassuring to know that as our oral culture succumbs to Kylie culture, somebody is keeping the guddle straight.
‘Out in the field there are still hundreds of people dying who should be recorded, and who are not being recorded,‘ says Donald Archie MacDonald, ‘It is a disgrace and a heartbreak.‘ The staff shortages and lack of resources suffered by so many university departments are felt more keenly by those whose living, breathing research material will not wait around until funds can be scraped together. Talking one minute of the relationship between the School and its informants being like that of priest and confessor, Ian Fraser, who works on the Place Names Survey, switches his imagery to say, ‘We would sell our soul to the devil for 5 million!’
Originally purely a research centre, opening its doors to undergraduates in 1971 , the School has a long tradition of making good use of its archive material. It issues records of music and storytelling, supplies information to allcomers— the media, Americans in search of their roots, people wanting a name for their dog- and is largely responsible for the folk-song revival of the Sixties and Seventies. It is, perhaps, old-fashioned courtesy as
much as image-consciousness which keeps the staff replying to the sheaves of letters. Yet the world of marketing and profit-margins draws nearer, with talk of links with the Scottish Tourist Board, and the urgent necessity for private sponsors. Or, as Donald Archie MacDonald prefers to call them, benefactors.
DAVE MICHAEL KEEN
\' s -. “\ . '4 . A - ’0 s” \1 $3 ﬁfe
£3 wouldn’t buy you a splinter from the frame of Van Gogh’s Sunﬂowers but The List’s writers fared for that and less in Edinburgh and Glasgow’s arty-farty diners.
I Barbizon Gallery College Lands, High Street, 552 0707. Dining at The Barbizon used to be inadvisable, but the distressingly bilious hues of Sergey Shutov’s paintings are off now, so it’s safe again. These days me and my hangover go there most Sundays. We have a coffee or two; eat, say, a light and easily digested Brie and mushroom crepe; and read the witty, well-written sports pages of Scotland on Sunday. Then I go home alone.
The recently introduced, French-influenced dinner menu is available in its entirety at lunchtime, but there is also a number of cheaper options on offer. Club sandwiches are currently the most popular choice, along with filled croissants; one could also choose sardines with lemon, chicken liver pate, moules mariniere, or herring with potatoes and apple, and still stay under the £3 barrier- though a fruit juice or alcohol could put you over.
The food is good; the atmosphere is relaxing; and they don’t play Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.
(Stuart Bathgate) I People’s Palace Museum, Glasgow Green, 554 0223. Cafe open 10am—4pm seven days. ‘Ah, Bathgate. Come in.’
‘What is it?’
‘What is it? WHAT IS IT? It’s this.‘
‘Aye, but what is it?’
‘Your expenses claim form. £3 for lunch? Do you think we’re made of money?’
‘But it was really good value. Tomato and basil soup at 85p, a veggie pastie for 90p, with a portion of Waldorf salad at 50p . . .’
‘Was your apple Strudel really necessary?’
‘No, but it was really tasty, and cost just 45p. A cup of tea at 30p and that was my three pounds. After that I hardly needed anything else to eat all day. Sitting in the Winter Gardens, looking out on to Glasgow Green, trying to spot Smudge the cat as it stalked the sparrows. . . There can hardly be a better place for cheap and filling food. And, ifyou've got the time afterwards, you can look around the Palace, of course — a witty, eclectic collection of the city’s social history.’
‘All right, but if it happens again it’s big trub for you, little boy. What are you working on for the next issue?’
‘A piece called Getting Guttered 0n £1.37 Or Less.’
‘Right, that’s it.’
‘No. Please. Not the kebab skewers. Argh.’ (Stuart Bathgate) I Third Eye Centre 350 Sauchiehall Street, 332 7521. ‘The place to eat — naturally‘ boasts the Third Eye Centre’s programme. A vegetarian, I was more than happy to try to get my £3 worth in the pleasant surroundings of the cafe. Hot and cold wholefood dishes are always on offer, but there is only one hot dish
available each day (not including the soup, of course), which is always freshly made. I had Polish bortsh soup (beetroot, to you and me) for 75p, and the spinach and potato curry at £2. A grand total of£2.75! I enjoyed both and felt it was good value for money (though I couldn’t afford a drink or a piece of bread/roll to dunk in my soup and stay under budget). Pity I couldn‘t have waited a week really, as they’re bringing out a Third Eye special: soup of the day & a wedge of bread, main course of the day and a cup ofcoffee, all for £3. What did I turn down? Well. I could’ve had a pizza/quiche/spud and salad for £1.50. There are usually ten standard salads available to choose from and you can also have a salad platter for £1.50 or a single portion for 75p. (Colin Steven) l Tron Theatre 63 Trongate, 552 3748. This cafe retains the atmosphere of the church hall it used to be. The lofty ceiling, supported by dark timber struts and the wooden floor gives it an airy, spacious feel. A blazing fire in one corner does little to make this a cosy intimate spot for lunch unless you risk a tiny corner of the stage where you can sit in relative comfort on what look like church pews. The food is good, reminiscent of home-cooking and ifyou feel like something stronger than tea, there is a large, well-stocked bar. The menu ranges from beef in ale (£3.50) or pork and apple pie (£1.20), to croissants, cold meats and quiche, all for under £1. I chose the vegetarian lasagne and salad for £2.50 which was hot and filling ifa little stodgy and unmemorable. From the unusual selection of salads I chose a rice and walnut mix and one with adzuke and mung beans, both deliciously crunchy and fresh. A meal here could be followed by a
72 The List 9 - 22 February 1990