I went to the Waterboys gig at the Hexagon in Reading a week or so ago (Tuesday 15th May 2012)
Prior to going I only really knew their recent album 'An Appointment with Mr Yeats'. The first half (and the encores) of highlights from their whole back-catalogue was a great discovery. I found the loud rock numbers a bit OTT on my ears - preferred the ones with more of a celtic feel (when the electric fiddler was part of the sound texture); and I also preferred the quieter ballads.
Although I had been looking forward to the Yeats part of the show, those particular songs didn't quite work as well live as I'd hoped. I still love the album, mind you! My very favourite song from the album - Let the Earth Bear Witness - wasn't featured (they only did 8 of the songs out of the 14 or 15 on the CD)
The Set list (not sure of some of the actual song titles yet - will have to hunt around on youtube etc)
1. How do ya like (Nothing) ?? Very loud rock and roll style
2. Indian Summer - killing my heart when you go away - another loud one
3. The Thrill has gone (from Pagan Place) - not played often. A sad song (liked this one a lot!)
4. (piano led) I remember Johnny come lately
5. A girl on the swing (I redorded a snippet of this one)
6. How long will I love you (as long as the stars are above you) = acoustic guitar and keyboard only
7. Glastonbury Song (5 playing - not fiddle) - There's a green hill far qaway, Going back there one fine day (blinding spot lights - shining out at audience, and back-lighting lead; green red yellow in turn; swivelling up, down and side to side
8 (segue into ) Bright Lights Big City (Banter with fiddler when he re-entered; the old ways - tell us? no)
9. Pan Within (Come with me on a journey underneath the skin)
10. Lonesome Wind (like a hymn) - one of my favourites in the show!
INTERVAL
1. Hosting of the Shee (come away, come away)
2. News for the Delphic Oracle (nymphs, dolphins etc)
3. The Song of the Wandering Aengus (Little Trout to girl) VERY MOVING = one of my favourites in the show
4. White Birds (v simple, delicate)
(drunken idiots in my row - v annoying)
5. Mad as the Mist and Snow - acoustic guitar and keyboard only. Then fiddler re-entered, wearing a black mask. Others later re-entered, built to a crescendo. Suddenly dark and just beat and guitar
Then fiddler lit, and keyboard player now in a mask too =- a discordant duel Mike also at the back also in a grotesque mask. - then came forward with a big black book. The mask had 3 faces on it. Read from the book - Yeats poem: Falconer.... The Centre cannot hold....Surely some revclation is at hand, surely the 2nd coming is at hand....
6. An Irish Airman forsees his Death (This life, this death...) Started drum and keyboard only (marching style) Steel guitar solo later.
(Rebecca whatserface observation in lead-in to next anti-corruption song)
7. September 1913 (written 100 years ago - "could've been written five fucking seconds ago!")
(Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, it's with O'Leary in the grave in the grave)
(Grid of diamonds design for the back-lighting on this one.)
8. Politics (Yeats as an old ma wishing to be young enough again to woo a young woman he's just seen across a public space) "last of this section of the show"
Harmony vocal from the keyboard player (hadn't noticed any previous harmony singing on any songs??)
FIRST ENCORE (pretty long break...)
1. Don't bang the Drum - title?? (Kalidescope lighting pattern on back wall. Spanish feel to trumpet sounds.)
2. The Whole of the Moon (started with a reggae rhythm, and then went into the normal version)- fiddler playing guitar for this one - now wearing gold lame jacket.
SECOND ENCORE (with guest guitarist from NY - introduced just before Knocking on Heaven's Door)
1. Man is in Love (not sure of the order - was this the first of 2nd encore?) - acoustic guitar and fiddle only (the others dancing irish style around back of stage as they came in; referred to in next bit of chat as 'the watermelon dancers')
2. Knocking on Heaven's Door
3.. Wish I was a Fisherman (got the audience to join in with twirls)
Friday, 25 May 2012
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
Roald Dahl Museum
Got the chance to go to the Roald Dahl museum and story centre in Great Missenden last week - with a Year 3 school trip (they were short of parent helpers, so drafted me in (as a TA), since I work with the class 4 afternoons per week). Trips can sometimes be hard work - depending on the children, the destination, the staff, and the organisation/planning. This one, however, was both easy and great fun. Very few difficult children, and none in the group of 5 for whom I was directly responsible. The travel only took about 45 minutes each way, and the Education Officer at the Museum was EXTREMELY good - I was very impressed.
Even the potentially tedious half of the day spent on a map-making exercise along the main street of the village went well. We did rather a lot of extra walking - because we went both to the churchyard to see Roald Dahl's grave, and to Gypsey House, where he lived (and where his widow still lives). We got tantalising glimpse of both the house and the garden (I found it touching to notice that the main door of the house was yellow, with yellow tulips on either side, having earlier been told that yellow was Roald Dahl's favourite colour). I'm glad we risked a short distance along a road with no pavement to get there (we were very careful indeed to ensure the children were safe at all times!) The garden was open that day, as part of the British Garden Association programme - so it was a real shame we couldn't go in (the children would have been free, but it was £4 per adult - and (more crucially) we didn't have time. I checked the list of dates once I got home, but they all fall on mid-week working days for me, so no chance of going.
It started to rain before we got back to the museum to meet up with the rest of the group and to go back to the coach. But just a light drizzle, so (given what it COULD have been like) no real complaints.
I was somewhat disappointed that - when I asked if he'd like to visit the place - Bob was so entirely uninterested in going to see the museum or village. Hey ho. Mind you, the museum is very much targeted at children, so maybe he's right.
Even the potentially tedious half of the day spent on a map-making exercise along the main street of the village went well. We did rather a lot of extra walking - because we went both to the churchyard to see Roald Dahl's grave, and to Gypsey House, where he lived (and where his widow still lives). We got tantalising glimpse of both the house and the garden (I found it touching to notice that the main door of the house was yellow, with yellow tulips on either side, having earlier been told that yellow was Roald Dahl's favourite colour). I'm glad we risked a short distance along a road with no pavement to get there (we were very careful indeed to ensure the children were safe at all times!) The garden was open that day, as part of the British Garden Association programme - so it was a real shame we couldn't go in (the children would have been free, but it was £4 per adult - and (more crucially) we didn't have time. I checked the list of dates once I got home, but they all fall on mid-week working days for me, so no chance of going.
It started to rain before we got back to the museum to meet up with the rest of the group and to go back to the coach. But just a light drizzle, so (given what it COULD have been like) no real complaints.
I was somewhat disappointed that - when I asked if he'd like to visit the place - Bob was so entirely uninterested in going to see the museum or village. Hey ho. Mind you, the museum is very much targeted at children, so maybe he's right.
Monday, 7 May 2012
News from Gardenia - spoilers! (don't read this blog unless you've already read the book)
This book has got under my skin. I'm not sure why. There's plenty to like (and Bobby is so lovely I was predisposed to like his book anyway). As he promised me on twitter, there aren't any sex scenes as such - although a sexual relationship does feature (it's just that the actual love-making isn't described - a welcome change from that particular toe-curling feature in ALL his previous books).
The novel is written in the first person and, while the central character isn't Robert (obviously) - he's younger for one thing - I can't help seeing Gavin as his creator (and of course the audiobook cannot but strengthen the association). He's a sympathetic character certainly, but perhaps a bit of a cipher: the necessary provision of our era's perspective on the future of 200 years in the future.
I thought it an interesting decision that Gavin isn't a parent (less of a wrench to be leaving his 21st century life?) and has a seemingly problematic relationship with his wife. Is it unfair of me to find it slightly predictable that Gavin so quickly finds a woman who wants to have sex with him - and to have his baby? Overall I wasn't keen on this 'utopian' vision of relationships between men and women - devoid of one-to-one commitment (it seemed). Although at least Robert does have it both ways - mentioning that not everyone in Gardenia lives in such communities, that some still live in smaller houses. I shouldn't feel so threatened by this - it's certainly true that even in our era there are quite a range of arrangements.
The route from 'here' to 'there' is attempted - via the history book Gavin is given to read - and it seems that utopia has only come about as a result of some fairly horrendous dystopian intermediate steps! In particular the shockingly fascist and eugenic population control through sterilisation of less intelligent males. So, the move towards reducing the world's population can only be envisaged as taking place due to something as morally repugnant as that!?! That's such a high price! Does the end justify the means? I am not persuaded. (On the other hand, I like the fact that Robert keeps his history 'dirty' and rough around the edges - more believable in a way I suppose)
Similarly, democracy is sacrificed as a step towards this utopia of no government, no police, no laws (why does this need to be a feature of utopia? Why anarchy?? There is some crime, we are told, but nothing like as much, and no prisons - just small secure living places for those who commit such acts.No hospitals, although advanced forms of medicine are available locally, and most people live healthy long lives. And (of course?) there's no money. Free and plentiful energy has been harnessed from renewable sources (mainly the sun). and there's lots of recycling being done - not least the reclamation of the metal and plastic previously used (and thrown away) by us - the previous generations. But (as in certain Star Trek episodes) there is a growing lack of specialist knowledge to be able to maintain the advanced technology being enjoyed. But this is a recognised problem (albeit one not being tackled) and there's a sophisticated awareness, on the part of the New Gardenian citizens, that 'this too will pass'. (Jules Verne's TIme Machine story springs to mind - a story I only really know via the 1960 film - with its soft surface dwellers of the far future, but - in the case of New Gardenia - no underground trolls)
London has disappeared - flooded by the rising sea level. That seems logical. I was, however, not so sure about the well established forests. They are there, I assume, as a way of combatting excess carbon; and also as a natural consequence of no longer having grazing animals. But would the forests have had time to grow to maturity? It would mean that vast replanting would be having to start very soon! (I think there is an explicit mention of such a programme at one point). Why are nationwide subways better than surface tracks? Is it just a case of freeing up more land for cultivation? The exclusion of personal units of autonomous transport (ie cars) seems fine however.
How much land would be needed to feed everyone, on such a micro level (with no big specialist farms? just lots of small community gardens everywhere?) Specialism no longer exists - everyone (in Gardenia anyway) has to do their own share of the growing. It goes so much against the grain - to abandon specialisation (baby with bathwater?) and - in jettisoning commercialism and industrialisation, to take out all forms of trading. Just goes to show that one person's utopia (based on the prime objective of sustainability) is another person's polemical powder-keg. I am left thinking about what I would hate in such a world.
It's a world without television, without films (in Gardenia at least). No-one consumes entertainment, or makes such entertainment. (a child does mention watching old films - and 'the book' seems to provide access to lots of information, in a similar way to the internet, and also provides the means of communication, in place of phones. email etc.). I did love the depiction of these 'books'
There's a tiny bit of art - the sketching done by one character - on old fashioned paper with (presumably) old-fashioned pencils - both of these made where and by whom? (and there are digital paintings on the wall). No mention of novel writing / fiction or poetry. The clothes - made where and by whom? No possessions (so no temptation to steal....apparently). Very much the world of 'Imagine' by John Lennon - in Gardenia at any rate. Not sure I'm quite so optimistic about human nature in even in such a non-stress environment.
I could accept that the eating of meat had vanished (it's certainly a less efficient way of generating nutrition for the same amount of land).
I very much liked that the world is shown as remaining varied. Gardenia is not the only system - and Gavin has a whistle-stop tour (a slight but handy plot device to have Gavin visit the descendents of his wife and her second husband), visiting some other major cities where the system of money is still used (with a vicious remnant of America as an unpleasant sounding state which we don't visit but hear about - with an hint that it's a whites-only enclave.)
Loose ends - the games (themed on particle physics) are never explained, which I found somewhat frustrating. And of course the VERY annoying ending! It sets up for a sequel - there jolly well better be a sequel!
It's easy enough to take pot-shots at anyone's vision of the future. I am aware that Mr L has spent a lot longer researching and thinking about this than I ever have. But I don't necessarily think I therefore have to agree with everything he's put in the novel - it is designed to be polemical I think. It certainly engages and stimulates and challenges. Indeed, I am left wondering why some of the ideas bother me SO much? Says more about me and my assumptions than anything else!
Whatever really does happen in the end, there will be much that just 'happens' rather than being planned. Like evolution itself, there is an element of blindness and chance. Hopefully we will stumble upon things that help and things that work - things that prove useful and 'fit' for survival. We already work outside and beyond strict biological evolution (a great deal of medical intervention could be viewed as bucking that cold hard logic) and we are rightly warned about applying evolution as an analogy to non-biological systems, such as societal 'evolution'....But what I'm getting at is the impossibilty of one great big coherent plan being actioned with no wrinkles or quirks. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try to action some plans - try to work on the problems we already know about. But there are bound to be bumps and kinks along the way.
That's one thing I particularly like about the book - it's a utopia which still has fallibility and rough edges.
The novel is written in the first person and, while the central character isn't Robert (obviously) - he's younger for one thing - I can't help seeing Gavin as his creator (and of course the audiobook cannot but strengthen the association). He's a sympathetic character certainly, but perhaps a bit of a cipher: the necessary provision of our era's perspective on the future of 200 years in the future.
I thought it an interesting decision that Gavin isn't a parent (less of a wrench to be leaving his 21st century life?) and has a seemingly problematic relationship with his wife. Is it unfair of me to find it slightly predictable that Gavin so quickly finds a woman who wants to have sex with him - and to have his baby? Overall I wasn't keen on this 'utopian' vision of relationships between men and women - devoid of one-to-one commitment (it seemed). Although at least Robert does have it both ways - mentioning that not everyone in Gardenia lives in such communities, that some still live in smaller houses. I shouldn't feel so threatened by this - it's certainly true that even in our era there are quite a range of arrangements.
The route from 'here' to 'there' is attempted - via the history book Gavin is given to read - and it seems that utopia has only come about as a result of some fairly horrendous dystopian intermediate steps! In particular the shockingly fascist and eugenic population control through sterilisation of less intelligent males. So, the move towards reducing the world's population can only be envisaged as taking place due to something as morally repugnant as that!?! That's such a high price! Does the end justify the means? I am not persuaded. (On the other hand, I like the fact that Robert keeps his history 'dirty' and rough around the edges - more believable in a way I suppose)
Similarly, democracy is sacrificed as a step towards this utopia of no government, no police, no laws (why does this need to be a feature of utopia? Why anarchy?? There is some crime, we are told, but nothing like as much, and no prisons - just small secure living places for those who commit such acts.No hospitals, although advanced forms of medicine are available locally, and most people live healthy long lives. And (of course?) there's no money. Free and plentiful energy has been harnessed from renewable sources (mainly the sun). and there's lots of recycling being done - not least the reclamation of the metal and plastic previously used (and thrown away) by us - the previous generations. But (as in certain Star Trek episodes) there is a growing lack of specialist knowledge to be able to maintain the advanced technology being enjoyed. But this is a recognised problem (albeit one not being tackled) and there's a sophisticated awareness, on the part of the New Gardenian citizens, that 'this too will pass'. (Jules Verne's TIme Machine story springs to mind - a story I only really know via the 1960 film - with its soft surface dwellers of the far future, but - in the case of New Gardenia - no underground trolls)
London has disappeared - flooded by the rising sea level. That seems logical. I was, however, not so sure about the well established forests. They are there, I assume, as a way of combatting excess carbon; and also as a natural consequence of no longer having grazing animals. But would the forests have had time to grow to maturity? It would mean that vast replanting would be having to start very soon! (I think there is an explicit mention of such a programme at one point). Why are nationwide subways better than surface tracks? Is it just a case of freeing up more land for cultivation? The exclusion of personal units of autonomous transport (ie cars) seems fine however.
How much land would be needed to feed everyone, on such a micro level (with no big specialist farms? just lots of small community gardens everywhere?) Specialism no longer exists - everyone (in Gardenia anyway) has to do their own share of the growing. It goes so much against the grain - to abandon specialisation (baby with bathwater?) and - in jettisoning commercialism and industrialisation, to take out all forms of trading. Just goes to show that one person's utopia (based on the prime objective of sustainability) is another person's polemical powder-keg. I am left thinking about what I would hate in such a world.
It's a world without television, without films (in Gardenia at least). No-one consumes entertainment, or makes such entertainment. (a child does mention watching old films - and 'the book' seems to provide access to lots of information, in a similar way to the internet, and also provides the means of communication, in place of phones. email etc.). I did love the depiction of these 'books'
There's a tiny bit of art - the sketching done by one character - on old fashioned paper with (presumably) old-fashioned pencils - both of these made where and by whom? (and there are digital paintings on the wall). No mention of novel writing / fiction or poetry. The clothes - made where and by whom? No possessions (so no temptation to steal....apparently). Very much the world of 'Imagine' by John Lennon - in Gardenia at any rate. Not sure I'm quite so optimistic about human nature in even in such a non-stress environment.
I could accept that the eating of meat had vanished (it's certainly a less efficient way of generating nutrition for the same amount of land).
I very much liked that the world is shown as remaining varied. Gardenia is not the only system - and Gavin has a whistle-stop tour (a slight but handy plot device to have Gavin visit the descendents of his wife and her second husband), visiting some other major cities where the system of money is still used (with a vicious remnant of America as an unpleasant sounding state which we don't visit but hear about - with an hint that it's a whites-only enclave.)
Loose ends - the games (themed on particle physics) are never explained, which I found somewhat frustrating. And of course the VERY annoying ending! It sets up for a sequel - there jolly well better be a sequel!
It's easy enough to take pot-shots at anyone's vision of the future. I am aware that Mr L has spent a lot longer researching and thinking about this than I ever have. But I don't necessarily think I therefore have to agree with everything he's put in the novel - it is designed to be polemical I think. It certainly engages and stimulates and challenges. Indeed, I am left wondering why some of the ideas bother me SO much? Says more about me and my assumptions than anything else!
Whatever really does happen in the end, there will be much that just 'happens' rather than being planned. Like evolution itself, there is an element of blindness and chance. Hopefully we will stumble upon things that help and things that work - things that prove useful and 'fit' for survival. We already work outside and beyond strict biological evolution (a great deal of medical intervention could be viewed as bucking that cold hard logic) and we are rightly warned about applying evolution as an analogy to non-biological systems, such as societal 'evolution'....But what I'm getting at is the impossibilty of one great big coherent plan being actioned with no wrinkles or quirks. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try to action some plans - try to work on the problems we already know about. But there are bound to be bumps and kinks along the way.
That's one thing I particularly like about the book - it's a utopia which still has fallibility and rough edges.
Greenwich - May Bank Holiday
It's a long way to go - from Ealing in the West all the way by Central Line and DLR to the South Eastern side of London, but that's what we decided to do today, to reach the heart of Royal Greenwich. In fact it didn't take *that* long, was a very easy journey and was well worth it. Overcast skies and spitting rain featured from time to time: a typical May Bank Holiday. And (equally typical) throng upon throng of fellow visitors - British, overseas, young and old.
Greenwich itself - away from the fine Maritime buildings - featured multiple chip shops and souvenir tat shops, a fundraising pearly king (with similarly decorated black cab), young sailors in traditional garb, traffic jams, patriotic bunting, a tattoo and piercing studio and a palpable seaside atmosphere (despite not being on the coast!) A fine Hawksmoor church (St Alfege) proved photogenic - ostensibly at the heart of modern urban life, when taken from one side, but deceptively rural-looking from the other. The revamped and uplifted Cutty Sark also looked very fine. Like children at a sweet shop window, we peered through the smoked glass to see the shiney hull hidden within that glazed 'payment zone'.
The chance to walk under the Thames itself, via the 1902 tunnel, and to 'drive' the driver-less DLR train were simple pleasures we could not resist. ('How old are we?' Bob asked rhetorically, before realising - to his horror - that our combined ages already take us well over the 100 mark - eek!)
On arrival at the National Maritime Museum, our first port of call was....the loos, then a long queue for our tickets, and (cunningly) a simultaneous queue for the cafe. We both then rapidly chomped our way through posh wholegrain baguettes with brie, cranberry and rocket and quickly (with barely a minute to spare until our 1pm booked time-slot) headed - at last - for the special exhibition in the National Maritime Museum - "Royal River: Power, Pageantry and the Thames"
I had pre-booked our tickets online the day before (£11 each plus booking fee!) It was okay....but not brilliant. I felt vaguely disappointed - perhaps having built it up into something it could never be. There were a few highlights, and I learnt a few fairly interesting things I hadn't known before - but to be honest, there is a lot to enjoy in Greenwich (and - according to Bob - at the nearby Museum of London in Docklands) which is free, so paying for that exhibition felt a bit silly. Bob is refusing ever to go inside the Cutty Sark, due to the entrance fee, and ditto the Royal Observatory (which I would, in contrast, LOVE to go into, despite the charge). On this occasion, we didn't look around the rest of the National Maritime Museum - which is free. Perhaps we'll go back when it's a bit less busy!
After the exhibition we had a good look around the shop, but (with no thimbles to be had) resisted all but one impulse purchase (a book about Inigo Jones for Bob). Another visit to the posh cafe followed - for a drink and a small but exquisitely expensive sweet treat (in my case possibly the nicest chocolate eclair I have ever had). We sat outside sheltering from the light drizzle under the big parasols.
I'm so glad we decided to go and have a look at the Queen's House next (which had been designed by Inigo Jones). The entry was free and I quickly googled a bit of info before we headed over, which gave us an idea of what to look out for. It was lovely - not many original features (no furnishings etc), but those that did remain were elegant and very pleasing to the eye - namely the very striking marble floor in the great hall and the delightful tulip spiral staircase.
The extensive art collection (from Elizabethan to modern) housed in the property was too much to take in - instead we skipped through, focussing on just a few works here and there. And, to be honest, that was a pretty good way of doing it! Surprisingly, although there were *some* people around, the Queen's House far less busy than the rest of Greenwich - including the outdoor areas, even in such iffy weather!
The numbers streaming up and down the hill to the Observatory (and prime meridian) were quite a surprise. There were a lot of temporary barriers up everywhere, and what looked like scaffolding or some kind of temporary seating structure - was it something to do with the Olympics? Or the Jubilee? Or some other event? Frustrating not to know. Pretty ugly whatever it was.
(Post script: Spotted a sign outside for a Titanic 'garden of remembrance' - it turned out to be a pathetically small area of border. I couldn't help feeling it was worse than nothing, being so insultingly tiny!)
Greenwich itself - away from the fine Maritime buildings - featured multiple chip shops and souvenir tat shops, a fundraising pearly king (with similarly decorated black cab), young sailors in traditional garb, traffic jams, patriotic bunting, a tattoo and piercing studio and a palpable seaside atmosphere (despite not being on the coast!) A fine Hawksmoor church (St Alfege) proved photogenic - ostensibly at the heart of modern urban life, when taken from one side, but deceptively rural-looking from the other. The revamped and uplifted Cutty Sark also looked very fine. Like children at a sweet shop window, we peered through the smoked glass to see the shiney hull hidden within that glazed 'payment zone'.
The chance to walk under the Thames itself, via the 1902 tunnel, and to 'drive' the driver-less DLR train were simple pleasures we could not resist. ('How old are we?' Bob asked rhetorically, before realising - to his horror - that our combined ages already take us well over the 100 mark - eek!)
On arrival at the National Maritime Museum, our first port of call was....the loos, then a long queue for our tickets, and (cunningly) a simultaneous queue for the cafe. We both then rapidly chomped our way through posh wholegrain baguettes with brie, cranberry and rocket and quickly (with barely a minute to spare until our 1pm booked time-slot) headed - at last - for the special exhibition in the National Maritime Museum - "Royal River: Power, Pageantry and the Thames"
I had pre-booked our tickets online the day before (£11 each plus booking fee!) It was okay....but not brilliant. I felt vaguely disappointed - perhaps having built it up into something it could never be. There were a few highlights, and I learnt a few fairly interesting things I hadn't known before - but to be honest, there is a lot to enjoy in Greenwich (and - according to Bob - at the nearby Museum of London in Docklands) which is free, so paying for that exhibition felt a bit silly. Bob is refusing ever to go inside the Cutty Sark, due to the entrance fee, and ditto the Royal Observatory (which I would, in contrast, LOVE to go into, despite the charge). On this occasion, we didn't look around the rest of the National Maritime Museum - which is free. Perhaps we'll go back when it's a bit less busy!
After the exhibition we had a good look around the shop, but (with no thimbles to be had) resisted all but one impulse purchase (a book about Inigo Jones for Bob). Another visit to the posh cafe followed - for a drink and a small but exquisitely expensive sweet treat (in my case possibly the nicest chocolate eclair I have ever had). We sat outside sheltering from the light drizzle under the big parasols.
I'm so glad we decided to go and have a look at the Queen's House next (which had been designed by Inigo Jones). The entry was free and I quickly googled a bit of info before we headed over, which gave us an idea of what to look out for. It was lovely - not many original features (no furnishings etc), but those that did remain were elegant and very pleasing to the eye - namely the very striking marble floor in the great hall and the delightful tulip spiral staircase.
The extensive art collection (from Elizabethan to modern) housed in the property was too much to take in - instead we skipped through, focussing on just a few works here and there. And, to be honest, that was a pretty good way of doing it! Surprisingly, although there were *some* people around, the Queen's House far less busy than the rest of Greenwich - including the outdoor areas, even in such iffy weather!
(Post script: Spotted a sign outside for a Titanic 'garden of remembrance' - it turned out to be a pathetically small area of border. I couldn't help feeling it was worse than nothing, being so insultingly tiny!)
Sunday, 6 May 2012
Ham House
Ham House was pretty impressive today. Bob got all squeamish about the wealth on display: they really did go OTT with the lavish decorations and furnishings - real 'look at how rich we are' style! Loved the period authenticity - the house dates from 1610 and (after a serious of improvements and extensions) much of it remains virtually unchanged since about the 1670s.
I liked the fact that the guiding (wealthy) hand shaping the house's style was that of a woman - Elizabeth Dysart (later Duchess of Lauderdale when she married for a second time)
Both Bob and I liked the servants working quarters in the basement very much indeed. Much simpler in style (obviously) and the real 'engine' of the house - the kitchen, the beer cellar, the meat hanging room, the servants's dining room. And - last but not least - the Duchess' great innovation: one of the first bathrooms ever built in this country (in 1675). This at a time when washing was not considered essential (she had a back staircase from her bedchamber directly to this bathroom) Apparently (although no longer to be seen), she also had a bathhouse built for her servants - outside in the courtyard, adjacent to her own bathroom.
I am fascinated by this woman and want to find out more about her.
I liked the fact that the guiding (wealthy) hand shaping the house's style was that of a woman - Elizabeth Dysart (later Duchess of Lauderdale when she married for a second time)
Both Bob and I liked the servants working quarters in the basement very much indeed. Much simpler in style (obviously) and the real 'engine' of the house - the kitchen, the beer cellar, the meat hanging room, the servants's dining room. And - last but not least - the Duchess' great innovation: one of the first bathrooms ever built in this country (in 1675). This at a time when washing was not considered essential (she had a back staircase from her bedchamber directly to this bathroom) Apparently (although no longer to be seen), she also had a bathhouse built for her servants - outside in the courtyard, adjacent to her own bathroom.
I am fascinated by this woman and want to find out more about her.
Saturday, 28 April 2012
1.30am
At such a time,
in such a mood,
whispers seek release
while rain drips
and dark air flaps
an entry at the door.
in such a mood,
whispers seek release
while rain drips
and dark air flaps
an entry at the door.
The Legacy of the Daisy Chain
Driving back from Hitchin, having just seen my oldest friend, I found myself musing on life after death - in the sense of what survives us after we die. I've known my friend since we were both 14 years old. That's 35 years ago now. We don't get together very often (hence I received my belated birthday gift from her today - just 3 months late), but the friendship is important to both of us and we keep the link going.
My friend is coping with cancer at the moment. We don't talk about the shadow of death. She's very strong, very positive, and - despite the cancer coming back a year ago - this time metastasized (it was orginally breast cancer), the last year of treatment seems to have it on the retreat at last.... for now.
To be honest, based on the pessamistic appraisal of her chances from a couple of mutual friends who are doctors, I had thought her survival for even a year was unlikely. But here she is! Every so often a phrase slips out that reveals that she knows her time may be quite limited. And in this her 49th year she has been doing plenty of special 'bucket list' things - while at the same keeping life as normal as possible for her 12 year old son. She goes to work, she does all the normal stuff. For now. But will she get another 5 years? 10 years? Another 20? A full life-span?
As for me, I'm currently happy to be alive. That may sound trite, but it's surprisingly novel for me. My recurrent depressions are always marked by finding it hugely onerous to have to go on living. But I'm not depressed at the moment - I like not being depressed! I am, however, being rather careless with the gift of my life. I had an abnormal smear a few years ago and had to have laser ablation. Got the all-clear thereafter, but am still supposed to have a smear every six months. For the second year, I have ignored the recall letter - putting it off till it's more like 12 months since the last smear. Is this sensible? Of course not!
And in the car, I was thinking about how we live on - in people's memories and the like. I no longer believe in a spiritual survival after death - so as far as I'm concerned when you die you die and that's the end. But the effect we have on the world can live on after we have gone. The most obvious way, for me, is through my sons - and possibly (in due course) their children and their children's children. There's the biological survival of the DNA - but there's also the shaping of their formative years and what they take into their adulthood and future parenting (if any). And so on.
There are other marks we leave on the planet - good and bad. For example that blithe carbon footprint and all those disposable nappies in landfillI on the down-side (how will the next generation - and the one after that - cope in the world *we've* taken for granted and left spoilt? Will there come a time when it would seem kinder not to bring a child into such a world, I wonder?).
I once did the thought experiment of writing my own imaginary epitaph, choosing what I would like to have achieved, what I would like to be remembered for (we were encouraged to dream rather than restrict ourselves to what was strictly likely in a prosaic sense). My epitaph was mostly about family stuff (eg 'a greatly loved great-grandmother', that kind of thing) rather than (say) inventing some new amazing gizmo. Perhaps I also included a bit of credit for my role in scouting - I like to think some of the Beavers over the years might retain some memories of the things they enjoyed doing, and that had an impact on them, thanks to that Beaver Leader of theirs - what was her name? Keema??
I love the quip I read once - no one ever looks back and says ' Oh I just wish I had spent longer in the office.' Apart from the vocational saints and geniuses, work is not 'life' - it is not where our fond and meaningful memories are to be found (although now that I'm in an educational job, rather than an administrative one, I do feel more connected: the effect of what I do now to help these young children, especially the ones with special needs, seems so very very important.) I don't remember the name of my Brownie leader, or (even younger) my Bunnie Leader, but I do have a few tiny memories of doing things in those groups. I remember my P2 teacher a little bit (mostly the negative aspects - cos she was very scarey!), but I don't remember my P1 teacher at all. One primary school teacher in particular (P3? P4?) had a HUGE and very positive effect on me - Mrs Cook. She was a wonderfully enabling and permissive (yet strict) teacher, and I blossomed in ways I might not otherwise have done thanks to her.
Books and the like are all very well (the other kind of children you can leave behind you and which carry part of you into the future (until all the copies in the world are lost...or just unread), but they're not the same as living in someone's memory (unless, perhaps, you are Shakespeare; although now some say the man called Shakespeare wasn't the true author of the plays - 'the play's the thing' not really any man behind them - he hardly matters in the end.)
Not sure why it should matter, but the thought of being forgotten seems sad. Of course most of us do eventually get forgotten - the history books only record a very very tiny minority of all the humans who have ever lived. I can still remember both of my grandmothers. Even my eldest son (possibly the youngest too) has tiny bits of memory of them, having visited them many times when very young (great granny who can't hear and great granny who can't speak). But eventually I will die and eventually my sons will die - and in the end there will be no-one alive with any first hand experience or memory of my grandmothers. The chain only stretches that far. The hands linking one-generation-to-the-next-and-the-next is fragile and short. A limited daisy chain, pretty but soon broken.
My friend is coping with cancer at the moment. We don't talk about the shadow of death. She's very strong, very positive, and - despite the cancer coming back a year ago - this time metastasized (it was orginally breast cancer), the last year of treatment seems to have it on the retreat at last.... for now.
To be honest, based on the pessamistic appraisal of her chances from a couple of mutual friends who are doctors, I had thought her survival for even a year was unlikely. But here she is! Every so often a phrase slips out that reveals that she knows her time may be quite limited. And in this her 49th year she has been doing plenty of special 'bucket list' things - while at the same keeping life as normal as possible for her 12 year old son. She goes to work, she does all the normal stuff. For now. But will she get another 5 years? 10 years? Another 20? A full life-span?
As for me, I'm currently happy to be alive. That may sound trite, but it's surprisingly novel for me. My recurrent depressions are always marked by finding it hugely onerous to have to go on living. But I'm not depressed at the moment - I like not being depressed! I am, however, being rather careless with the gift of my life. I had an abnormal smear a few years ago and had to have laser ablation. Got the all-clear thereafter, but am still supposed to have a smear every six months. For the second year, I have ignored the recall letter - putting it off till it's more like 12 months since the last smear. Is this sensible? Of course not!
And in the car, I was thinking about how we live on - in people's memories and the like. I no longer believe in a spiritual survival after death - so as far as I'm concerned when you die you die and that's the end. But the effect we have on the world can live on after we have gone. The most obvious way, for me, is through my sons - and possibly (in due course) their children and their children's children. There's the biological survival of the DNA - but there's also the shaping of their formative years and what they take into their adulthood and future parenting (if any). And so on.
There are other marks we leave on the planet - good and bad. For example that blithe carbon footprint and all those disposable nappies in landfillI on the down-side (how will the next generation - and the one after that - cope in the world *we've* taken for granted and left spoilt? Will there come a time when it would seem kinder not to bring a child into such a world, I wonder?).
I once did the thought experiment of writing my own imaginary epitaph, choosing what I would like to have achieved, what I would like to be remembered for (we were encouraged to dream rather than restrict ourselves to what was strictly likely in a prosaic sense). My epitaph was mostly about family stuff (eg 'a greatly loved great-grandmother', that kind of thing) rather than (say) inventing some new amazing gizmo. Perhaps I also included a bit of credit for my role in scouting - I like to think some of the Beavers over the years might retain some memories of the things they enjoyed doing, and that had an impact on them, thanks to that Beaver Leader of theirs - what was her name? Keema??
I love the quip I read once - no one ever looks back and says ' Oh I just wish I had spent longer in the office.' Apart from the vocational saints and geniuses, work is not 'life' - it is not where our fond and meaningful memories are to be found (although now that I'm in an educational job, rather than an administrative one, I do feel more connected: the effect of what I do now to help these young children, especially the ones with special needs, seems so very very important.) I don't remember the name of my Brownie leader, or (even younger) my Bunnie Leader, but I do have a few tiny memories of doing things in those groups. I remember my P2 teacher a little bit (mostly the negative aspects - cos she was very scarey!), but I don't remember my P1 teacher at all. One primary school teacher in particular (P3? P4?) had a HUGE and very positive effect on me - Mrs Cook. She was a wonderfully enabling and permissive (yet strict) teacher, and I blossomed in ways I might not otherwise have done thanks to her.
Books and the like are all very well (the other kind of children you can leave behind you and which carry part of you into the future (until all the copies in the world are lost...or just unread), but they're not the same as living in someone's memory (unless, perhaps, you are Shakespeare; although now some say the man called Shakespeare wasn't the true author of the plays - 'the play's the thing' not really any man behind them - he hardly matters in the end.)
Not sure why it should matter, but the thought of being forgotten seems sad. Of course most of us do eventually get forgotten - the history books only record a very very tiny minority of all the humans who have ever lived. I can still remember both of my grandmothers. Even my eldest son (possibly the youngest too) has tiny bits of memory of them, having visited them many times when very young (great granny who can't hear and great granny who can't speak). But eventually I will die and eventually my sons will die - and in the end there will be no-one alive with any first hand experience or memory of my grandmothers. The chain only stretches that far. The hands linking one-generation-to-the-next-and-the-next is fragile and short. A limited daisy chain, pretty but soon broken.
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