Thursday, January 30, 2003
Home life circa 1919
Clearing out kitchen drawers today I found a very tatty old household almanac. These extracts might amuse -
ETIQUETTE
A gentleman should be introduced to a lady. If the sexes are the same, always present the inferior in social rank to the superior.
Persons meeting at a common friend?s, not introduced, should not claim acquaintance if they meet elsewhere.
Morning calls are usually made between the hours of two and four. Avoid looking at your watch during a visit.
In conversation, if gifted with wit, never make a display of it.
At evening parties, always put your gloves on previous to entering the room.
RECEIPTS FOR HOUSEKEEPERS
Bites of Mad Dogs. Apply caustic potash at once to the wound & give enough whisky to cause sleep
Cold on chest. A flannel rag wrung out in boiling water & sprinkled with turpentine, laid on chest brings relief.
Cuts. A drop or two of creosote will stop bleeding
Flies. 20 drops of carbolic acid evaporated on a hot shovel will banish flies from a room
Smell of onions. Rub hands on a stick of celery after peeling onions the smell will be removed.
Sore Throat. Cut slices of fat boneless bacon, pepper thickly and tie around the throat with flannel cloth.
Washing. Three teaspoons of kerosene in the wash boiler will greatly assist in the last rubbing.
CHILD CARE (charming)
Don?t darken young lives too much with your grown-up griefs & sorrows
Don?t blame them for mishaps that are purely accidental
Don?t forget that sunlight & laughter are things that children thrive on, and that both are extremely cheap and ought to be plentiful
Don?t let them forget that you are their best friend as well as their parent. Teach them to come to you in every childish difficulty
Don?t forget that the boys & girls of today will be the men & women of the future. If you want them to be a credit to you, and to themselves when you are dead & gone, deal tenderly, wisely and justly with them now
Lurv at first sight?.
Our two cockerels were fighting over the available hens. Nobody wants an odd cockerel, so it looked like the chop or a separate pen for Cocky2. Then, blow me down, Gordon went up with the morning feed and there on the wall sat a strange female bantam. We have no idea where she came from, but her arrival is utterly fortuitous. Cocky2 fell immediately under her spell and they are inseparable, sleeping together on the perch. There is only one adverse thing in all this ? she is a very ugly chicken. Black with brown streaks, she has an anaemic pink comb and an unattractively thick beak, her lover doesn?t care - to him she?s sex on legs. But we have named her ?Yassir?.
Here it comes again, that feeling?.
That's right, build a beautiful new prestigious library then in a couple of years knock a few of the little ones out. Needless to say, my letter's in the post.
Clearing out kitchen drawers today I found a very tatty old household almanac. These extracts might amuse -
ETIQUETTE
A gentleman should be introduced to a lady. If the sexes are the same, always present the inferior in social rank to the superior.
Persons meeting at a common friend?s, not introduced, should not claim acquaintance if they meet elsewhere.
Morning calls are usually made between the hours of two and four. Avoid looking at your watch during a visit.
In conversation, if gifted with wit, never make a display of it.
At evening parties, always put your gloves on previous to entering the room.
RECEIPTS FOR HOUSEKEEPERS
Bites of Mad Dogs. Apply caustic potash at once to the wound & give enough whisky to cause sleep
Cold on chest. A flannel rag wrung out in boiling water & sprinkled with turpentine, laid on chest brings relief.
Cuts. A drop or two of creosote will stop bleeding
Flies. 20 drops of carbolic acid evaporated on a hot shovel will banish flies from a room
Smell of onions. Rub hands on a stick of celery after peeling onions the smell will be removed.
Sore Throat. Cut slices of fat boneless bacon, pepper thickly and tie around the throat with flannel cloth.
Washing. Three teaspoons of kerosene in the wash boiler will greatly assist in the last rubbing.
CHILD CARE (charming)
Don?t darken young lives too much with your grown-up griefs & sorrows
Don?t blame them for mishaps that are purely accidental
Don?t forget that sunlight & laughter are things that children thrive on, and that both are extremely cheap and ought to be plentiful
Don?t let them forget that you are their best friend as well as their parent. Teach them to come to you in every childish difficulty
Don?t forget that the boys & girls of today will be the men & women of the future. If you want them to be a credit to you, and to themselves when you are dead & gone, deal tenderly, wisely and justly with them now
Lurv at first sight?.
Our two cockerels were fighting over the available hens. Nobody wants an odd cockerel, so it looked like the chop or a separate pen for Cocky2. Then, blow me down, Gordon went up with the morning feed and there on the wall sat a strange female bantam. We have no idea where she came from, but her arrival is utterly fortuitous. Cocky2 fell immediately under her spell and they are inseparable, sleeping together on the perch. There is only one adverse thing in all this ? she is a very ugly chicken. Black with brown streaks, she has an anaemic pink comb and an unattractively thick beak, her lover doesn?t care - to him she?s sex on legs. But we have named her ?Yassir?.
Here it comes again, that feeling?.
That's right, build a beautiful new prestigious library then in a couple of years knock a few of the little ones out. Needless to say, my letter's in the post.
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Tuesday, January 28, 2003
Come with me to a moment of astonishment?..
You are driving across a wide-open stretch of Norfolk fenland at dusk on a winter afternoon. The road snakes through peaty black fields, over a river, and finally, 4 miles beyond the main road, arrives at a huge stretch of (unseen) water ? this is Welney Wash. Towering grass banks stand to your left scaled by a steep wooden ramp. Climbing up with several groups of animated, warmly dressed people you come to a long closed bridge spanning a stretch of water; you glimpse it through the wooden panels as you cross, and notice a steadily rising noise of birds. Now you push through a door into a wooden building where another door faces you, just an ordinary old brown door giving no hint of the extent of what lies beyond.
Open it and look ahead and the breath catches the back of your throat; you may see this again, but the image of the first time will never leave you. The long room is in darkness; a huge sloped window runs the length of it and beyond is a vast lagoon illuminated by brilliant light. On the water as far as the eye can see swim a thousand swans and among them, a thousand tiny russet pochard ducks. Strings of swans are flying in across the last streaks of light in the sky, more and more arriving, carving the water and landing miraculously among the masses below.
You sit at the window and watch an ornithological cabaret unfold - there is a lot of behaviour out there, all of it fascinating and duplicated over and over. The birds are waiting, tense for the feeding. At 6.30 a man in waders walks to the shallows with a barrow of grain and the vast mass of white feathers turns as one and presses towards him.
Later, the birds are quiet, people have gone home, but you still sit in the dark watching a sight which becomes yet more beautiful. The swans are going to sleep, they have drifted to the dark horizon at the edge of the lights and are tucking their necks along their backs. The floating white bodies look like drifting ice. The peace out there in the cold is palpable. The lights go out, the water blackens and just the stars are left.
Driving home everyone is silent, as if reluctant to break the spell.
You are driving across a wide-open stretch of Norfolk fenland at dusk on a winter afternoon. The road snakes through peaty black fields, over a river, and finally, 4 miles beyond the main road, arrives at a huge stretch of (unseen) water ? this is Welney Wash. Towering grass banks stand to your left scaled by a steep wooden ramp. Climbing up with several groups of animated, warmly dressed people you come to a long closed bridge spanning a stretch of water; you glimpse it through the wooden panels as you cross, and notice a steadily rising noise of birds. Now you push through a door into a wooden building where another door faces you, just an ordinary old brown door giving no hint of the extent of what lies beyond.
Open it and look ahead and the breath catches the back of your throat; you may see this again, but the image of the first time will never leave you. The long room is in darkness; a huge sloped window runs the length of it and beyond is a vast lagoon illuminated by brilliant light. On the water as far as the eye can see swim a thousand swans and among them, a thousand tiny russet pochard ducks. Strings of swans are flying in across the last streaks of light in the sky, more and more arriving, carving the water and landing miraculously among the masses below.
You sit at the window and watch an ornithological cabaret unfold - there is a lot of behaviour out there, all of it fascinating and duplicated over and over. The birds are waiting, tense for the feeding. At 6.30 a man in waders walks to the shallows with a barrow of grain and the vast mass of white feathers turns as one and presses towards him.
Later, the birds are quiet, people have gone home, but you still sit in the dark watching a sight which becomes yet more beautiful. The swans are going to sleep, they have drifted to the dark horizon at the edge of the lights and are tucking their necks along their backs. The floating white bodies look like drifting ice. The peace out there in the cold is palpable. The lights go out, the water blackens and just the stars are left.
Driving home everyone is silent, as if reluctant to break the spell.
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Saturday, January 25, 2003
Ten things I am ashamed I haven't done
(as prompted today by some unknown in-car radio station)
- gone vegetarian
- taught someone to read
- driven on the right
- visited (ancestral)Tipperary
- been camping
- read the Old Testament
- squared up to objectionable yobs
- joined live animal exports protest
- read all the Shakespeare comedies
- mastered basic mathematics
(as prompted today by some unknown in-car radio station)
- gone vegetarian
- taught someone to read
- driven on the right
- visited (ancestral)Tipperary
- been camping
- read the Old Testament
- squared up to objectionable yobs
- joined live animal exports protest
- read all the Shakespeare comedies
- mastered basic mathematics
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Friday, January 24, 2003
Lumber
Spent the afternoon lugging loppings over to the bonfire. Dennis came with his chainsaw and attacked 6 overgrown Leylandii, reducing them by half. They got left last year when so much else was going on and put on an absurd amount of wood. They will look horrible for a while - but will pick up after six months. I feel sorry for the birds who usually roost there, they'll surely do a double-take as they fly in at dusk. Leylandii could really be "farmed" for timber - it burns well, is fragrant and puts on several feet a year. Dennis will get a fair stack of firewood out of this afternoon's work. It was pleasant out there in the late afternoon, feeling tired and seeing the moon come up early over the forest. We have daffodils out already and the snowdrops are coming up by the stream. I am raring to go on the garden, if only the ground wasn't so blooming wet.
Dobby Double?
I pinched this from another blog, but can't resist passing it on.
Spent the afternoon lugging loppings over to the bonfire. Dennis came with his chainsaw and attacked 6 overgrown Leylandii, reducing them by half. They got left last year when so much else was going on and put on an absurd amount of wood. They will look horrible for a while - but will pick up after six months. I feel sorry for the birds who usually roost there, they'll surely do a double-take as they fly in at dusk. Leylandii could really be "farmed" for timber - it burns well, is fragrant and puts on several feet a year. Dennis will get a fair stack of firewood out of this afternoon's work. It was pleasant out there in the late afternoon, feeling tired and seeing the moon come up early over the forest. We have daffodils out already and the snowdrops are coming up by the stream. I am raring to go on the garden, if only the ground wasn't so blooming wet.
Dobby Double?
I pinched this from another blog, but can't resist passing it on.
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A date with George Friedrich
Today Radio Norfolk mentioned a performance of the "Messiah" in Norwich Cathedral on Saturday evening and I managed to book three tickets, though it's nearly sold out. I feel the pull to go to a live performance of it every few years, when I have forgotten again how stiff one's bum gets after two hours on a pew seat.. It is the most divine thing, totally absorbing. I looked up a bit of background, apparently Handel wrote it in 23 days!, " He began it on August 22, 1741, and finished the orchestration of the third part on September 14. He was fifty-six years old at the time - so no brain cell death there. Imagine the physical effort of writing it all down with a dippy pen, let alone the creative process itself. I shall appreciate its magnificence all the more for knowing.
It's the B & B for me - off to stay here in Feb.
I have gathered an armful of stuff about what's on in Glasgow from the Net, and from the Tourist Info. Centre there. The flight is booked; Elizabeth and I will no doubt be spending several hours at Stansted if this and several other recent horror stories about flights to Scotland are true!
Today Radio Norfolk mentioned a performance of the "Messiah" in Norwich Cathedral on Saturday evening and I managed to book three tickets, though it's nearly sold out. I feel the pull to go to a live performance of it every few years, when I have forgotten again how stiff one's bum gets after two hours on a pew seat.. It is the most divine thing, totally absorbing. I looked up a bit of background, apparently Handel wrote it in 23 days!, " He began it on August 22, 1741, and finished the orchestration of the third part on September 14. He was fifty-six years old at the time - so no brain cell death there. Imagine the physical effort of writing it all down with a dippy pen, let alone the creative process itself. I shall appreciate its magnificence all the more for knowing.
It's the B & B for me - off to stay here in Feb.
I have gathered an armful of stuff about what's on in Glasgow from the Net, and from the Tourist Info. Centre there. The flight is booked; Elizabeth and I will no doubt be spending several hours at Stansted if this and several other recent horror stories about flights to Scotland are true!
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Wednesday, January 22, 2003
In an old red exercise book..
Talking with Elizabeth today about writing, we agreed that it is sometimes surprising to look back at stuff one wrote ages ago. Mostly it appears as immature rubbish, but sometimes something hits the spot. I absolutely remember the evening I wrote this.
Behind strong lines of pines the softer scrub
Blurs to pinkish brown. White grass bending
As the pheasant passes, strutting to roost.
Beyond a blur of midges clouds move on.
A great wash of crimson lies in the West,
Sun falling into the black fen.
Willows tickle the lake, pike jump for flies.
Out on Lakenheath the rabbits run.
Kingcups close and darkness is under the bridge.
A low mist rises, wind blows colder.
Doves fly from the wires, away from the house;
The owl is coming.
In flintstone cottages lights are lit,
Washing is left to flap all night
Over the rows of vegetables.
Traps set, dogs chained,
Cows chew on in the dark.
There is one star over the apple trees.
Warm in the firelight I see it all.
The grandfather clock ticks
Loud in the darkening house.
Nantucket. 1982
Neckwear
I might have started a trend in Switzerland. Not the kipper tie - nah, nothing fishy. This is your butch, all mammalian monkey neckpiece. Worn with undoubted panache!
Talking with Elizabeth today about writing, we agreed that it is sometimes surprising to look back at stuff one wrote ages ago. Mostly it appears as immature rubbish, but sometimes something hits the spot. I absolutely remember the evening I wrote this.
Behind strong lines of pines the softer scrub
Blurs to pinkish brown. White grass bending
As the pheasant passes, strutting to roost.
Beyond a blur of midges clouds move on.
A great wash of crimson lies in the West,
Sun falling into the black fen.
Willows tickle the lake, pike jump for flies.
Out on Lakenheath the rabbits run.
Kingcups close and darkness is under the bridge.
A low mist rises, wind blows colder.
Doves fly from the wires, away from the house;
The owl is coming.
In flintstone cottages lights are lit,
Washing is left to flap all night
Over the rows of vegetables.
Traps set, dogs chained,
Cows chew on in the dark.
There is one star over the apple trees.
Warm in the firelight I see it all.
The grandfather clock ticks
Loud in the darkening house.
Nantucket. 1982
Neckwear
I might have started a trend in Switzerland. Not the kipper tie - nah, nothing fishy. This is your butch, all mammalian monkey neckpiece. Worn with undoubted panache!
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Tuesday, January 21, 2003
Take me to paradise
I had an Indian head massage today ? I was given one for my birthday last year and have continued to go once a month since. Picture sitting in a softly lit warm room, Enya quietly singing, Amanda in white, smiling and mixing the oils - sandalwood and rose geranium. They are poured into the hair and the ecstasy starts as firm hands find the tightness and release it. First scalp, then neck, shoulders, ears and face.
Hair is pulled tight against the brace of a flat palm and the hands move down to the source of pain and pleasure - the sub-occipitals. These are the deepest lying muscles that connect from the base of the skull to the neck bones. They are nearest the juncture of the first cervical bone (atlas) and the occipital bone of the skull. They function in head flexion (the ability of the head to tilt backwards) and head rotation. When contracted, they can draw the head tightly to the atlas, restrict head motion, and put compressive pressure on the brain stem. Ten minutes of hard work on these takes you to heaven; you feel that if it could go on just a bit longer you would find some ultimate bodily nirvana.
The massage winds down to the balancing of the chakras, with gentle palm movements giving off radiant heat on the chest, neck and forehead. Wonderful!
I had an Indian head massage today ? I was given one for my birthday last year and have continued to go once a month since. Picture sitting in a softly lit warm room, Enya quietly singing, Amanda in white, smiling and mixing the oils - sandalwood and rose geranium. They are poured into the hair and the ecstasy starts as firm hands find the tightness and release it. First scalp, then neck, shoulders, ears and face.
Hair is pulled tight against the brace of a flat palm and the hands move down to the source of pain and pleasure - the sub-occipitals. These are the deepest lying muscles that connect from the base of the skull to the neck bones. They are nearest the juncture of the first cervical bone (atlas) and the occipital bone of the skull. They function in head flexion (the ability of the head to tilt backwards) and head rotation. When contracted, they can draw the head tightly to the atlas, restrict head motion, and put compressive pressure on the brain stem. Ten minutes of hard work on these takes you to heaven; you feel that if it could go on just a bit longer you would find some ultimate bodily nirvana.
The massage winds down to the balancing of the chakras, with gentle palm movements giving off radiant heat on the chest, neck and forehead. Wonderful!
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Monday, January 20, 2003
Heroes (3)
Tony Benn
For many reasons, but chiefly for bravery. I do not like his naive action in visiting Saddam, but at least he got off his arse. A man who speaks his mind consistently. Benn's motives are humanitarian, his principles uncompromised. I would wager he is honest. His politics have been an interesting combination of the extreme and the pragmatic. He writes clean prose. The cynicism at his rejection of the peerage and the endless pricks of the Press were borne without bitterness. Pleasant to look at, with a softly modulated voice, he is free from the mannerisms of aristocratic roots. Witty, he uses imagery and analogy to great effect. Evidently bored by many frivolities in public life, he brushes them aside. There was a long and loving marriage. In a packed life he disciplined himself to maintain a daily journal which will become an historic document. The bed-sit he retained for Westminster stopovers showed he genuinely cared nothing for his personal surroundings; battered kettle, rickety table, tinned food. He is addicted to tea. Like two other fearlessly colourful socialists - Manny Shinwell and Eric Heffer, he will work till he drops, probably offering an acerbic opinion from his deathbed. Harold Wilson said of him in criticism "He immatures with age." A compliment in my book.
Tony Benn
For many reasons, but chiefly for bravery. I do not like his naive action in visiting Saddam, but at least he got off his arse. A man who speaks his mind consistently. Benn's motives are humanitarian, his principles uncompromised. I would wager he is honest. His politics have been an interesting combination of the extreme and the pragmatic. He writes clean prose. The cynicism at his rejection of the peerage and the endless pricks of the Press were borne without bitterness. Pleasant to look at, with a softly modulated voice, he is free from the mannerisms of aristocratic roots. Witty, he uses imagery and analogy to great effect. Evidently bored by many frivolities in public life, he brushes them aside. There was a long and loving marriage. In a packed life he disciplined himself to maintain a daily journal which will become an historic document. The bed-sit he retained for Westminster stopovers showed he genuinely cared nothing for his personal surroundings; battered kettle, rickety table, tinned food. He is addicted to tea. Like two other fearlessly colourful socialists - Manny Shinwell and Eric Heffer, he will work till he drops, probably offering an acerbic opinion from his deathbed. Harold Wilson said of him in criticism "He immatures with age." A compliment in my book.
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Friday, January 17, 2003
No sneering allowed
This just shows how it has become necessary to keep upping the ante to get attention for causes. I remember an evening many years ago in my sitting room in London, where 50 plus local souls gathered to plan a campaign to save my library. We made some great placards ("£50,000 cut is peanuts to Croydon, but makes monkeys out of us!). 75 year old Joyce, veteran of many fights, set up her armchair outside the library and told stories while handing out leaflets. Johnnie the cartoonist produced Grosz-style posters of politicos eating books. Local children did a protest conga among the Saturday shoppers. The press and crowds turned up for decisive meetings and we won. One must never sit on one's bum in these matters. Just show it occasionally.
Neffie in shining armour
Mark has rescued me from the shameful HTML spaghetti I had made of this page. He has recast the whole thing and got my Links up and running. It looks quaite naice now, I think. What a useful lot these Howellses are - curtain-making, antiques disposal, web editing and much more besides. Thank-you all.
This just shows how it has become necessary to keep upping the ante to get attention for causes. I remember an evening many years ago in my sitting room in London, where 50 plus local souls gathered to plan a campaign to save my library. We made some great placards ("£50,000 cut is peanuts to Croydon, but makes monkeys out of us!). 75 year old Joyce, veteran of many fights, set up her armchair outside the library and told stories while handing out leaflets. Johnnie the cartoonist produced Grosz-style posters of politicos eating books. Local children did a protest conga among the Saturday shoppers. The press and crowds turned up for decisive meetings and we won. One must never sit on one's bum in these matters. Just show it occasionally.
Neffie in shining armour
Mark has rescued me from the shameful HTML spaghetti I had made of this page. He has recast the whole thing and got my Links up and running. It looks quaite naice now, I think. What a useful lot these Howellses are - curtain-making, antiques disposal, web editing and much more besides. Thank-you all.
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Thursday, January 16, 2003
Readathon
There will be no getting any work out of me for the duration. All three volumes of the Philip Pullman trilogy turned up on the mobile library on Monday. So I am otherwise engaged. It's the best thing - having to hand a very gluttonous amount of reading that one really fancies! The writing is so good.
"Lyra took out the alethiometer...she found that if she held it just so in her palms and gazed at it in a particular lazy way, as she thought of it, the long needle would begin to move purposefully. Instead of its wayward divagations around the dial it swung smoothly from one picture to another. Sometimes it would pause at three, sometimes two, sometimes five or more and although she understood nothing of it, she gained a deep calm enjoyment from it, unlike anything she'd known. Pantalaimon (her daemon) would crouch over the dial, sometimes as a cat, sometimes as a mouse, swinging his head round after the needle; and once or twice the two of them shared a glimpse of meaning that felt as if a shaft of sunlight had struck through clouds to light up a majestic line of green hills in the distance - something far beyond, and never suspected"
Yum yum
There will be no getting any work out of me for the duration. All three volumes of the Philip Pullman trilogy turned up on the mobile library on Monday. So I am otherwise engaged. It's the best thing - having to hand a very gluttonous amount of reading that one really fancies! The writing is so good.
"Lyra took out the alethiometer...she found that if she held it just so in her palms and gazed at it in a particular lazy way, as she thought of it, the long needle would begin to move purposefully. Instead of its wayward divagations around the dial it swung smoothly from one picture to another. Sometimes it would pause at three, sometimes two, sometimes five or more and although she understood nothing of it, she gained a deep calm enjoyment from it, unlike anything she'd known. Pantalaimon (her daemon) would crouch over the dial, sometimes as a cat, sometimes as a mouse, swinging his head round after the needle; and once or twice the two of them shared a glimpse of meaning that felt as if a shaft of sunlight had struck through clouds to light up a majestic line of green hills in the distance - something far beyond, and never suspected"
Yum yum
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Monday, January 13, 2003
Sunday routine
A freezing cold morning here and first priority on getting up is to feed the birds. They wait in the trees for their large and varied menu to appear. It?s four feeds a day in this weather, and regular unblocking of the water bowl. They have bread, chopped apples, cheap (cheep?) muesli, dripping blocks, dried fruit, seeds and nuts. At the moment we have a flock of long-tailed tits, they sit feeding a dozen at a time on the table with tails pointing outwards in a perfect circle. The numbers of all bird varieties are drastically down this year and we see no starlings at all where once we had dozens. At ten I looked out to see six partridges, four grey squirrels, a pheasant, doves chaffinches, tits and blackbirds. In the background were the male deer and this year?s young female tucking into a pile of corn.
Esme arrived at 11 with the two spaniels Robbie & Ricky2. They precede little plump Esme at full gallop on the lead, one day she will simply take off and fly over the house. She brought me an unwanted Christmas present, a beautifully modelled china figure of a gentleman rat and his child, dressed in 19th century costume. She hates rats and I don?t; it is very appropriate to the graphic background of this weblog! At almost the same moment Col. Jim came, bearing a gift of American veggie burgers for us to try (tomorrow).
To lunch at Joyce?s, roast pork and lovely apple cinnamon sponge pudding. While we were having coffee she told us that she used to live in Dartford a few doors away from Mick Jagger?s parents. Eve Jagger used to come in for a chat quite often (nice little person). One day she told Joyce how worried she was about Mick's performance at school. ?He seems to be crazy for this pop stuff, that?s all he wants to think about?. Joyce said she clearly remembers her reply. ?I shouldn?t worry, Eve, he?ll grow out of it?.
A freezing cold morning here and first priority on getting up is to feed the birds. They wait in the trees for their large and varied menu to appear. It?s four feeds a day in this weather, and regular unblocking of the water bowl. They have bread, chopped apples, cheap (cheep?) muesli, dripping blocks, dried fruit, seeds and nuts. At the moment we have a flock of long-tailed tits, they sit feeding a dozen at a time on the table with tails pointing outwards in a perfect circle. The numbers of all bird varieties are drastically down this year and we see no starlings at all where once we had dozens. At ten I looked out to see six partridges, four grey squirrels, a pheasant, doves chaffinches, tits and blackbirds. In the background were the male deer and this year?s young female tucking into a pile of corn.
Esme arrived at 11 with the two spaniels Robbie & Ricky2. They precede little plump Esme at full gallop on the lead, one day she will simply take off and fly over the house. She brought me an unwanted Christmas present, a beautifully modelled china figure of a gentleman rat and his child, dressed in 19th century costume. She hates rats and I don?t; it is very appropriate to the graphic background of this weblog! At almost the same moment Col. Jim came, bearing a gift of American veggie burgers for us to try (tomorrow).
To lunch at Joyce?s, roast pork and lovely apple cinnamon sponge pudding. While we were having coffee she told us that she used to live in Dartford a few doors away from Mick Jagger?s parents. Eve Jagger used to come in for a chat quite often (nice little person). One day she told Joyce how worried she was about Mick's performance at school. ?He seems to be crazy for this pop stuff, that?s all he wants to think about?. Joyce said she clearly remembers her reply. ?I shouldn?t worry, Eve, he?ll grow out of it?.
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Saturday, January 11, 2003
A surprisingly nice bloke...
George Foreman, the boxer, chatting to Sue Lawley today:
"George, you have ten children, and your five boys are all called George?"
"Yeah, well, I figured that as a boxer I had to think ahead to when I might get memory loss".
George Foreman, the boxer, chatting to Sue Lawley today:
"George, you have ten children, and your five boys are all called George?"
"Yeah, well, I figured that as a boxer I had to think ahead to when I might get memory loss".
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Friday, January 10, 2003
Input
READING
Barbara Trapido: Juggling. I just bought three of her novels at a charity shop. She's quite a stylist and an easy read.
Neil Astley: Poetry with an Edge
LISTENING
Doves: Lost Souls (courtesy Brandon)
Shawn Colvin :Holiday Songs and Lullabies (courtesy Monica)
Andrea Bocelli: Sentimento
John Coltrane: a home-made collection
Philip Glass: "Mishima"
VIEWING
TV. First two episodes of "The Reading Group" (Channel 4 /Thursdays). Looks promising, a new cult series in the making?
PAINTING. Michael Sowa. I bought some art cards of arresting images of his in an Ipswich shop and have just got round to looking him up.
READING
Barbara Trapido: Juggling. I just bought three of her novels at a charity shop. She's quite a stylist and an easy read.
Neil Astley: Poetry with an Edge
LISTENING
Doves: Lost Souls (courtesy Brandon)
Shawn Colvin :Holiday Songs and Lullabies (courtesy Monica)
Andrea Bocelli: Sentimento
John Coltrane: a home-made collection
Philip Glass: "Mishima"
VIEWING
TV. First two episodes of "The Reading Group" (Channel 4 /Thursdays). Looks promising, a new cult series in the making?
PAINTING. Michael Sowa. I bought some art cards of arresting images of his in an Ipswich shop and have just got round to looking him up.
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Thursday, January 09, 2003
IN CHAMBERS:
words I?ve had to dictionary-check lately
I look them up and promptly forget them - this feature will be a continuing aide memoire.
Lambent = Flickering lightly over or on a surface: lambent moonlight. Effortlessly light or brilliant: lambent wit. Having a gentle glow; luminous.
Litotes = deliberate understatement, often designed to create a comic or sarcastic effect. e.g. In the middle of a furious argument, a third party might enter and say, "Did I detect a slight difference of opinion here
A favourite family
Sean, Louise and the children came for a drink tonight; Sean gave me a tutorial in using my CD Rewriter. He?s a whizz at the audio side and my new Nero software is quite complicated. I think I have it now. At least, the basics. The children piled into one big armchair to watch ?Homefront? - switched on at their request. Strange choice for children. Two small heads together, two tall glasses of coke in hand and total concentration. As they all left, the huge pile of jackets & boots from the hall were put on again. As Dad came outside into the cold, snowy night he took a couple of snowballs in the neck. In fact, the snowball fight continued all the way down the drive. I could hear their laughter coming back in the dark.
LLB
Watching the kids watching Laurence Llewellyn Bowen, I realised that the attraction was the flamboyance. I have gone from irritation at his poncing about to a sort of grudging affection for him. He knows his art and architecture history & can put it over with pezazz; I heard him do a short lecture on 1930?s buildings and he was good. Do look at his website - well OTT, as you might expect.
words I?ve had to dictionary-check lately
I look them up and promptly forget them - this feature will be a continuing aide memoire.
Lambent = Flickering lightly over or on a surface: lambent moonlight. Effortlessly light or brilliant: lambent wit. Having a gentle glow; luminous.
Litotes = deliberate understatement, often designed to create a comic or sarcastic effect. e.g. In the middle of a furious argument, a third party might enter and say, "Did I detect a slight difference of opinion here
A favourite family
Sean, Louise and the children came for a drink tonight; Sean gave me a tutorial in using my CD Rewriter. He?s a whizz at the audio side and my new Nero software is quite complicated. I think I have it now. At least, the basics. The children piled into one big armchair to watch ?Homefront? - switched on at their request. Strange choice for children. Two small heads together, two tall glasses of coke in hand and total concentration. As they all left, the huge pile of jackets & boots from the hall were put on again. As Dad came outside into the cold, snowy night he took a couple of snowballs in the neck. In fact, the snowball fight continued all the way down the drive. I could hear their laughter coming back in the dark.
LLB
Watching the kids watching Laurence Llewellyn Bowen, I realised that the attraction was the flamboyance. I have gone from irritation at his poncing about to a sort of grudging affection for him. He knows his art and architecture history & can put it over with pezazz; I heard him do a short lecture on 1930?s buildings and he was good. Do look at his website - well OTT, as you might expect.
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Tuesday, January 07, 2003
A Couple of Sites to Play With...
- Kippers and Custard anyone? You think I'm joking? Look what Google found.
1.5 pounds kippers (smoked herrings)
3 large eggs
1.25 cups light cream
1 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
1 ounce butter
4 shallot; finely chopped
2 tablespoons capers; whole
1 tablespoon coriander leaves, fresh
1/2 lemon; juice of
Skin kippers and remove as many major bones as possible. Shred the flesh. Place the shredded kipper into a pan with shallots, lemon juice and butter and cook gently. Remove from the pan and cool. Mix with capers and coriander. Divide mixture into two lightly buttered ramekin molds, or make it in a single larger buttered dish. Mix together the cream and eggs and season well with black pepper and pour over the kipper mix. Place into a hot water bath and cook in a 350 F oven for around 25-35 minutes (if using individual ramekins but one big dish will probably take an hour to cook) until the custard is set. Serves 4 to 6.
- ONE WORD gives writing reflexes a workout.
- Kippers and Custard anyone? You think I'm joking? Look what Google found.
1.5 pounds kippers (smoked herrings)
3 large eggs
1.25 cups light cream
1 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
1 ounce butter
4 shallot; finely chopped
2 tablespoons capers; whole
1 tablespoon coriander leaves, fresh
1/2 lemon; juice of
Skin kippers and remove as many major bones as possible. Shred the flesh. Place the shredded kipper into a pan with shallots, lemon juice and butter and cook gently. Remove from the pan and cool. Mix with capers and coriander. Divide mixture into two lightly buttered ramekin molds, or make it in a single larger buttered dish. Mix together the cream and eggs and season well with black pepper and pour over the kipper mix. Place into a hot water bath and cook in a 350 F oven for around 25-35 minutes (if using individual ramekins but one big dish will probably take an hour to cook) until the custard is set. Serves 4 to 6.
- ONE WORD gives writing reflexes a workout.
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Saturday, January 04, 2003
Well, hello
Off-blog for six months - and what a lot of other things I got done. Including sleep for a change. No eye strain. And properly hand-written letters. And printed text for research. But with my new and blissfully efficient PC, I feel recidivist tendencies stirring. Tonight I have been online for 3 hours; I just checked in to read my mail and then hit a trail via weblogs. I sit here with freezing feet at 3.15 am and wonder why. It's a drug. Ahhh, that's better.
I regard this post as a marker to myself to do a bit of writing. "Just begin..." as my friend Pat always advises when there is a pile of rocks to move. I have increased my potential audience by at least two souls recently, bringing it up to a round half dozen I should think; hardly worth the effort? Its real purpose is, of course, to rid oneself of the scribbling imperative, and develop thoughts that would otherwise atrophy. I must talk to my Neffie about the new format. Images would make things so much more interesting.
Mexican Nosh - the new passion started by Cat from Texas who lives opposite. Mind you, the support items, like tacos, that she gets from the PX at the base are infinitely superior to the Old El Paso stuff in our supermarkets. Anway, I shall start trying basic dishes out in a small way. Refried beans? Not a good idea for me, I fear. This seems to be a useful site for the background recipes
Off-blog for six months - and what a lot of other things I got done. Including sleep for a change. No eye strain. And properly hand-written letters. And printed text for research. But with my new and blissfully efficient PC, I feel recidivist tendencies stirring. Tonight I have been online for 3 hours; I just checked in to read my mail and then hit a trail via weblogs. I sit here with freezing feet at 3.15 am and wonder why. It's a drug. Ahhh, that's better.
I regard this post as a marker to myself to do a bit of writing. "Just begin..." as my friend Pat always advises when there is a pile of rocks to move. I have increased my potential audience by at least two souls recently, bringing it up to a round half dozen I should think; hardly worth the effort? Its real purpose is, of course, to rid oneself of the scribbling imperative, and develop thoughts that would otherwise atrophy. I must talk to my Neffie about the new format. Images would make things so much more interesting.
Mexican Nosh - the new passion started by Cat from Texas who lives opposite. Mind you, the support items, like tacos, that she gets from the PX at the base are infinitely superior to the Old El Paso stuff in our supermarkets. Anway, I shall start trying basic dishes out in a small way. Refried beans? Not a good idea for me, I fear. This seems to be a useful site for the background recipes