Poem of the Week

A poem for Advent


Journey of the Magi

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The was deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

T.S. Eliot

Dusty

There are times when I really hate books.

Don't worry - this doesn't happen very often, but I'm having a moment today when I wish I lived in an old country house, with someone employed to look after my books for me.

I decided to sort my books out - not put them in alphabetical order (impossible, seeing as how lots of them only fit certain shelves), but at least have them grouped, so as to make them easier to find. This, I'm sure, would be helped if I could have an extra bookcase, so they aren't double stacked, but I have to make do with what I have.

I am now very dusty and hot, and I'm not sure if the streaming eyes and nose are due to my cold, or the whirlwind of dust that has accumulated around my head. So far, I've taken every classic and VMC off their respective shelves, piled them onto the floor, and pulled other books off other shelves to make room for them.

So in the spare room, I now have all my hardback books, classics, VMC's and some historical biography.

Now the question remains what to do with all the rest. One bookcase needs to be filled (the third is chock full of anything and everything and is damn well going to stay that way). Do I put all the books that I have read at the bottom so they can't be seen, and double stack from the bottom up, or do I do a proper alphabetical sort, regardless of genre, size or if it's been read? This is why I don't sort out my books - it's far too stressful!

Anyway, now that I've had my rant, I'd best get back to it all. Actually, I've just had a disconcerting thought - Christmas is coming, and I know I've got at least two books coming through that - I'm going to have to go through this again in two weeks time!

Speaking of Christmas - if you could only have one book as a present (and buying for yourself doesn't count) what would be at the top of your list?

Advent and other festive things

For the first time in my life I've not got an advent calendar. When I was young, I had the traditional picture one, and then I moved onto chocolate (which my parents weren't unduly happy about, and in later years made me feel slightly guilty).

So this year I've decided to do something different - I decided to read a book.
'The Christmas Mystery' by Jostein Gaarder is perfect as a pseudo advent calendar, because it's split up into twenty four chapters, and tells the story of Christmas, albeit from a slightly different angle. I've read it before, but this time, only reading a chapter a night, I've found it more magical and more real. It's definitely a good Christmas read.

Another thing that spells Christmas to me (and I'm wondering how many times I can get that word in this post) is the festive film. There are many different sorts of Christmas film, but to me the best ones are either in black and white, or have a lot of singing in them.

'White Christmas' - the epitome of class and joy. What more could one want than Bing Crosby crooning with Rosemary Clooney and Vera Ellen Dancing with Danny Kaye?

'It's a Wonderful Life' - Man oh man - this film! What good acting can do to change the way we look at things. James Stewart is a wonder!

'In the Good Old Summertime' - er, yes, I know the title seems a little odd, but in actual fact the final part of this is all winter wonderland, and has Judy Garland singing.

'Meet me in St Louis' - Oh Judy, Judy, Judy - singer of the most perfect Christmas ballad ever. You just have to play the first few chords for me to start bawling my eyes out.

'The Lion in Winter' - the PERFECT family movie for the festive period. You think your family has problems at this time of year? Watch this, and be staggered - Henry II had much bigger arguments than anyone else could ever imagine!

'The Muppet Christmas Carol' - 'Oh, there goes Mr Humbug, there goes Mr Grim, if they gave a prize for being mean, the winner would be him' - Muppets, Dickens and Christmas, how fantastic!

There's so many more: 'Little Women', 'Desk Set', 'Home Alone', 'Love Actually', 'Miracle of 34th Street', I could go on and on, but I won't bore you all.

Does anyone else have an absolute must see film for this season? Also, who else has a cold? I'm coughing and sneezing like my life depends on it!

Thankful for Theatre

Quite a lot of the time I wish that I had been born fifty or sixty years ago. This may seem strange, but when you consider that my parents have seen people like Laurence Olivier in the flesh, it's not so hard to understand why I feel a bit left out!

So when I head that Kenneth Branagh (my all time Shakespeare idol) was kicking off a Donmar season in London with Ivanov, I went all weak at the knees and begged my father for tickets. Strangely the only day dad could get them was on his birthday, so he kinda ended up paying for his own birthday evening out!

I love Chekhov - The Cherry Orchard being by favourite, until last week that is. Never mind that I was at the back of the theatre, and there was tall people in front of me, none of that mattered, because the moment Branagh walked onto the stage, he owned every inch of it, and took my breath away countless times.
Two parts in particular were awe inspiring - at one point Branagh breaks down and falls to the floor, but instead of just collapsing in a heap, he did it in stages, from dropping his head onto his chest, bowing, going on to his knees, sitting down and finally lying on the floor. The control it took to do, and keep the audience spell bound was the work of genius.
The other part was right at the end, when Ivanov has his final breakdown. Branagh has a speech which gets faster and faster, going more and more out of control as it progresses, until he is told to shut up, where upon he slows right down to a word a second, and then almost falls backwards. I'd tell you all to go and see it, but it's finished - sob!

Of course I went and stood by the stage door, and got a few signatures - Gina Mckee was very nice (and very tall), whilst I made an arse out of myself in front of Tom Hiddleston (mixed up Miss Austen Regrets and Lost in Austen, oh the shame) and he was very kind too. Absolute thrill to meet Kevin McNally (pirate Gibbs in Pirates of the Caribbean), who then went and sat at the next table to where my parents were sitting waiting for me, so they got to talk to him too.

I would say it was a thrill to meet Kenneth Branagh, but he didn't come out of the stage door. Apparently Wydham's theatre has 15 exits, so it's anyone's guess how he slid off into the night!

I got tickets for Twelfth Night (Derek Jacobi) and Madame de Sade (Judi Dench) whilst I was there too, so I was a very happy bunny.

I am so thankful for living this close to London that I can whizz back and forth to see such things. And I can only hope that people I know in 50 or 60 years are as jealous of who I've seen now, as I am of who my father has seen!

Poem of the Week

Essential Beauty

In frames as large as rooms that face all ways
And block the ends of streets with giant loaves,
Screen graves with custard, cover slums with praise
Of motor-oil and cuts of salmon, shine
Perpetually these sharply-pictured groves
Of how life should be. High above the gutter
A silver knife sinks into golden butter,
A glass of milk stands in a meadow, and
Well-balanced families, in fine
Midsummer weather, owe their smiles, their cars,
Even their youth, to that small cube each hand
Stretches towards. These, and the deep armchairs
Aligned to cups at bedtime, radiant bars
(Gas or electric), quarter-profile cats
By slippers on warm mats,
Reflect none of the rained-on streets and squares

They dominate outdoors. Rather, they rise
Serenely to proclaim pure crust, pure foam,
Pure coldness to our live imperfect eyes
That stare beyond this world, where nothing's made
As new or washed quite clean, seeking the home
All such inhabit. There, dark raftered pubs
Are filled with white-clothed ones from tennis-clubs,
And the boy puking his heart out in the Gents
Just missed them, as the pensioner paid
A halfpenny more for Granny Graveclothes' Tea
To taste old age, and dying smokers sense
Walking towards them through some dappled park
As if on water that unfocused she
No match lit up, nor drag ever brought near,
Who now stands newly clear,
Smiling, and recognising, and going dark.

Philip Larkin

Life has gone crazy, so I have hardly had the time to write up things. If I had the time, this is what I would talk about:

-Kenneth Branagh
-Strictly
-Christmas
-Mrs Miniver
-Theatre

I'll get there eventually, sit tight!!

Waiting for a Wuther

Over on Justine's blog, there's been talk of what best to read to banish the darkness that winter brings.

She suggested Wuthering Heights, which led to a discussion of whether there was a right time of year to read the book. Some books are like that. The best time to read A Christmas Carol is ...? Easter? Hmm - somehow I think the clue is in the name.

Anyway, it set me thinking about what I've been reading this year, and although I made a rule not to read anything I'd read before - I think this might be the exception. If nothing else, reading it before Christmas will help me to be more thankful for the relative sanity of my relations. I don't have family members wanting to kill each other that's for sure.

The problem is I CAN'T start reading it yet. The weather has just been too nice for mid November. All mild and sunny with barely a wuther in sight. I said to Justine that the last time I tried to read it in Oxford I failed, because the dreaming city just isn't wild enough. However, it's supposed to snow on Sunday, so maybe I'll be able to read it them.

On a rather more frivolous note, who do you think would be the perfect person to play Heathcliffe .... personally I would like Alan Rickman, but he might be a bit too old. Maybe Richard Armitage would be better. Any thoughts??

Something's gotta give ...

... and something has.

I'm not going to comment on John Sargeant after this post anymore. There's got to be a line drawn at some point, and I think tonight is the point. But I can't let him go without saying something about the way he's left.

It's all over the news, all over the blogs; John Sargeant has quit Stirctly.

I have to say that I am quite shocked, and I've just watched the hour long It Takes Two special and should imagine that the entire viewing public has spontaneously combusted, either at James' comments, or Johns'!

These are my thoughts:
- John wasn't a particularly good dancer. I wished during the early weeks he'd stop smirking like the cat who had got the cream.
- John seems to be a bit arrogant, and many of his answers tonight were trite and glib.
- James' statement that John's decision was the worst thing that could have happened was overstated, but I agree with him. Actually Kate Garraway managed to say exactly what James had said, only much more eloquently.
- My own, honest, opinion on John's departure is that it was the easy way out. He's been talking all along about the rules of the game and how the judges don't seem to know them, but if he was abiding by the rules, he would have stayed until he was voted out. And if that meant he won the entire competition, then so be it. I wouldn't have liked it, but I would have dealt with it.

I really hope Kristina is invited back for another series. She's a fantastic dancer, and makes a valuable contribution to the show. I also think John's behaviour towards her on I.T.T. when she was visibly upset was a bit off - he didn't seem to mind that much (in public at least) that his partner was in tears beside him. Having said that, however, he does remind me of my father in that respect!

I've also been really shocked by the comments on the BBC forum. Claudia's been getting a lot of stick, and there are a lot of people demanding the money back that they spent on voting for him. That's just silly - would they have asked for the money back if John had been voted out properly?

Anyway, enough is enough. No more talking about John any more. There are six fantastic dancers all competing for the final now, and there's barely anything to choose between them. Time to focus on those that are still in.

Romantic gestures

I'm in a mood to be swept off my feet. Trouble is there seems to be a dearth of men willing to complete this task, and therefore I have to turn to fiction.

But who do I choose to romance me? I mean of all the wonderfully written heroes; if they were all lined up in front of me - well I don't think I could decide!

So it's time for celebrity character death match!

Would Darcy manage to outshine Captain Wentworth?
Who of the Middlemarch crowd of men manage to woo me?
Would Heathcliffe romance me, or would he just be hopelessly mean?

There's tonnes of fantastic men waiting to leap out of a book and into my arms! Who would you most like for your other half?