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This Swedish academic and former war reporter has just had his hefty and ambitious book published in the UK. THE BEAUTY AND THE SORROW: an intimate history of the First World War is his attempt to provide what he calls ANTI history. He searches for the details amidst the battle headlines and strategies and so we learn about the lives of twenty individuals, his Dramatis Personae; men and women from different walks of life, different nationalities, located in different places. Scots will find affinity with a middle aged nurse called Sarah MacNaughton; her diary entries are peppered throughout the book. She may be a nurse but she's not altogether angelic as there's some all too human moaning about not being appreciated, yet here she is, heroically going about her business in the most appalling conditions at the Front. There's also a German school girl and a Venezuelan Cavalryman.The lives and thoughts of all twenty of Englund's cast of characters are shared with us and poignantly we see that they are all struggling through the war with little idea about how and when it will all end.

The book's largely written in the present tense so there's an urgency and intimacy to it that certainly grabbed me. We're used to hearing about the dreadful suffering and sacrifice on the field of battle but few books have made us think what it FELT like to be caught up in a war in a wider context. It was a sobering and humbling read for someone like myself, born in the sixties, materially well catered for and with little idea of the realities of war. As I wound up my interview with Peter, I suggested he got his book into our schools. Teenagers need to know about the human side of this epic conflict, the way people muddled through, resisted and sometimes capitulated. At least one copy of the book made its way to a secondary school in Glasgow. It was my daughter's. Her year are studying the Great War. I can't think of a better way to bring it alive.

Edinburgh's Makar caught the mood of the programme by reciting a beautiful and solemn war poem about Flanders. Ron was doubling up on his Café duties as we wanted to hear about something happening at the Scottish Parliament building this week; Ron and author were highlighting the plight of imprisoned or victimised writers - journalists, authors, poets included. Jean came up with the novel idea of putting Ron in a cage to make the point and he consented to do so. An hour of discomfort and cold in honour of the thousands who languish in prisons around the world for having the temerity to speak their minds and expose wrong doing. We Scots and Brits tend to take freedom of expression for granted. If staging a protest in a cage on a cold autumn day reminds us what's at stake if we lose that right, Ron has done us all a favour.

Surrealism was in the air on Tuesday's Culture Café when the provocatively playful visual artist visited the studios to talk about his latest project as a librettist for a brand new opera. But, (cue Dervla Kerwin), "this is no ordinary opera". PASS THE SPOON is on at Glasgow's Tramway and if you go along, prepare to be entertained and bemused in equal measure. The cast includes a Banana man and a Dung beetle. Apparently its all about food and the music is " proper " operatic stuff, courtesy of ; he couldn't make it to the Ö÷²¥´óÐã for a chat as he was caught up in rehearsals. Fortunately David Shrigley and director Nick Bone talked me through the storyline and the aims of this bizarre production. Opera, but not as we know it.

Top art critic Anne Ellis is a regular guest on our show. She's one of the few experts able to analyse paintings with wit and erudition. We wanted her to try out a little experiment on our behalf - viewing the block buster , from a remote location. The film of the exhibition was beamed into forty cinemas UK wide and our Anne sat through it in Glasgow. Did the virtual gallery tour impress her? Well, there were a few reservations but in the hands of the right director and with less flash bang wallop jump cuts, Anne said she could see the potential of the filmed format. If the jury's still out on the merits of remote viewing, think on! No queuing, no irritating space hoggers and no overcrowding. That's got to count for something. Still, I'm probably going to head for London at some point to see the da Vinci collection up close and personal. How can you top sharing a room with some of the most beautiful paintings in the world?