![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The Right Shop
Aug. 30th, 2024 07:47 am A woman dropped by the Meeting House yesterday morning- and joined us for worship- because she'd been reading a novel about Quakers by Tracey Chevalier and wanted to find out more. "You've come to the right shop," I said...
Trish and I were talking on Sunday and saying we needed to do all we could to keep our Meeting Houses open. There are several reasons for this but one of them is so there are identifiable places where we can be contacted and talked to and our ethos and spirituality sampled. Sure, you can find out about Quakers online, but it's not the same.
One of the Meeting Houses in our area is in danger of shutting down. I'm told it has an active membership of six. The building is a mid-20th century chapel purchased from a noncomformist congregation that couldn't sustain itself. Trish was saying we ought to get out more and visit the other Quaker Meetings- in particular the ones that are struggling. I agree....
Trish and I were talking on Sunday and saying we needed to do all we could to keep our Meeting Houses open. There are several reasons for this but one of them is so there are identifiable places where we can be contacted and talked to and our ethos and spirituality sampled. Sure, you can find out about Quakers online, but it's not the same.
One of the Meeting Houses in our area is in danger of shutting down. I'm told it has an active membership of six. The building is a mid-20th century chapel purchased from a noncomformist congregation that couldn't sustain itself. Trish was saying we ought to get out more and visit the other Quaker Meetings- in particular the ones that are struggling. I agree....
Hot, Hot, Hot....
Aug. 29th, 2024 07:43 am I like sunny days- but prefer to observe them from the shade. I have never wanted to sunbathe.
T.E, Lawrence continues to criss-cross the Arabian desert on his camel. It gets hot down there. He talks about temperatures on 140 F. And says things like, "the heat was like an iron mask over the face" Or was it a "steel mask" ? For some reason "steel mask" sound the hotter of the two. Does steel have a higher melting point than iron? Seems like it might have.
Anyway yesterday was hot. We got to eat our very nice lunch on a patio that thrusts out onto the beach. I could have wished the parasol had been larger. Later we sat out on the promenade across from a band of elderly amateurs with ukes who were playing hits from the 50's- my very least favourite decade of popular music. What I wanted to know was why they weren't playing George Formby? (I like George Formby.) Perhaps its because his tunes are virtuoso stuff....
T.E, Lawrence continues to criss-cross the Arabian desert on his camel. It gets hot down there. He talks about temperatures on 140 F. And says things like, "the heat was like an iron mask over the face" Or was it a "steel mask" ? For some reason "steel mask" sound the hotter of the two. Does steel have a higher melting point than iron? Seems like it might have.
Anyway yesterday was hot. We got to eat our very nice lunch on a patio that thrusts out onto the beach. I could have wished the parasol had been larger. Later we sat out on the promenade across from a band of elderly amateurs with ukes who were playing hits from the 50's- my very least favourite decade of popular music. What I wanted to know was why they weren't playing George Formby? (I like George Formby.) Perhaps its because his tunes are virtuoso stuff....
A Far Piece
Aug. 28th, 2024 07:21 am "Haven't you forgotten something?" said Ailz, first thing this morning.
Erm....
"It's our 33rd anniversary," she prompted.
(Which means it's also her birthday)
"Have we really had Marlowe that long?" I said.
( I know, weak joke- but at least it had the merit of being off the cuff)
"Seems like it," she said
We've travelled a far piece in those 33 years. Near the beginning we were the youngish couple with nine cats. Ailz says eight but they came and went so fast it was hard to keep the count straight. (We acted as a sort of clearing house for cats that needed adopting.) Then we were witches and a wee bit notorious. Then we kept rabbits. Then we moved to Kent and played at being landed gentry. And now we're Quakers and living by the seaside. Yes, a far piece....
The birthday, btw, is Ailz's 70th. She's been ribbing me and all our mates who are slightly over seventy that she's a decade younger than us, Well, she won't be able to do that any more....
Erm....
"It's our 33rd anniversary," she prompted.
(Which means it's also her birthday)
"Have we really had Marlowe that long?" I said.
( I know, weak joke- but at least it had the merit of being off the cuff)
"Seems like it," she said
We've travelled a far piece in those 33 years. Near the beginning we were the youngish couple with nine cats. Ailz says eight but they came and went so fast it was hard to keep the count straight. (We acted as a sort of clearing house for cats that needed adopting.) Then we were witches and a wee bit notorious. Then we kept rabbits. Then we moved to Kent and played at being landed gentry. And now we're Quakers and living by the seaside. Yes, a far piece....
The birthday, btw, is Ailz's 70th. She's been ribbing me and all our mates who are slightly over seventy that she's a decade younger than us, Well, she won't be able to do that any more....
Booze And The Blowens
Aug. 27th, 2024 08:23 am I dreamed I was having difficulties with a wife (not Ailz and not my first wife entirely) and was telling myself I mustn't be egotistical or self-assertive and- in particular- there were certain things I absolutely shouldn't say- and then I said them.
Odi and Ben went home. It had been a flying visit.....
Judy has written a story set in Australia and commissioned a real life Australian to test its idioms. The real life Australian said a lot of Judy's slang was out of date. But that's the nature of slang, ain't it! Every generation asserts itself against the one before by rejecting its cant and substituting its own. I love slang. Especially outmoded slang. There's a poem by Henley (a translation of one of Villon's ballades) written in the thieves argot of his day which is an absolute tour do force.
I don't- as a rule- post other people's poems but this is out of copyright and deserves to be better known. I won't offer a complete translation. I couldn't. But "booze and the blowens cop the lot" means the same as the lines from the folk song that go, "I wasted all my tin/ On the ladies drinking gin..."
Odi and Ben went home. It had been a flying visit.....
Judy has written a story set in Australia and commissioned a real life Australian to test its idioms. The real life Australian said a lot of Judy's slang was out of date. But that's the nature of slang, ain't it! Every generation asserts itself against the one before by rejecting its cant and substituting its own. I love slang. Especially outmoded slang. There's a poem by Henley (a translation of one of Villon's ballades) written in the thieves argot of his day which is an absolute tour do force.
I don't- as a rule- post other people's poems but this is out of copyright and deserves to be better known. I won't offer a complete translation. I couldn't. But "booze and the blowens cop the lot" means the same as the lines from the folk song that go, "I wasted all my tin/ On the ladies drinking gin..."
Villon's Straight Tip To all Cross Coves
"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles."
"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles."
Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack?
Or fake the broads? or fig a nag?
Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack?
Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?
Suppose you duff? or nose and lag?
Or get the straight, and land your pot?
How do you melt the multy swag?
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.
Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack;
Or moskeneer, or flash the drag;
Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack;
Pad with a slang, or chuck a fag;
Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag;
Rattle the tats, or mark the spot;
You can not bank a single stag;
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.
Suppose you try a different tack,
And on the square you flash your flag?
And on the square you flash your flag?
At penny-a-lining make your whack,
Or with the mummers mug and gag?
For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag!
At any graft, no matter what,
Your merry goblins soon stravag:
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.
THE MORAL
It's up the spout and Charley WagWith wipes and tickers and what not.
Until the squeezer nips your scrag,
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.
Outward Facing
Aug. 26th, 2024 07:20 am Jean and I went and sat in the courtyard to eat our lunch in a rare moment when the sun came out. Everybody else stayed indoors. "Wimps" I thought.
We were celebrating Ailz's 70th and George Fox's 400th. It went well. There was bunting, there was cake.
I was in outward facing mode all day long- first at the Meeting House then with two pairs of visitors. The first two were Bea and Tanya who came down from Tonbridge on Bea's motorbike; they used to be my mother's carers. The second pair were Odi and Ben, who have spent the night here- having been up in London most of the day, going wild at the Notting Hill carnival....
I grew up unsociable but these days I can slip into sociability without effort. I'm not shy any more. I enjoy going Rah, rah, rah but am always happy to stop....
We were celebrating Ailz's 70th and George Fox's 400th. It went well. There was bunting, there was cake.
I was in outward facing mode all day long- first at the Meeting House then with two pairs of visitors. The first two were Bea and Tanya who came down from Tonbridge on Bea's motorbike; they used to be my mother's carers. The second pair were Odi and Ben, who have spent the night here- having been up in London most of the day, going wild at the Notting Hill carnival....
I grew up unsociable but these days I can slip into sociability without effort. I'm not shy any more. I enjoy going Rah, rah, rah but am always happy to stop....
Two Dreams
Aug. 25th, 2024 07:04 am I dreamed my grandfather had written me a letter. It was an open letter- printed in a theatre programme. He said he had been to watch Tom Cruise starring in a West End play, spoke about how someone had complimented himself and my father on being so up to date (a judgement from which I demurred) and concluded by telling me I should drink and smoke- especially cigars- but only in moderation.
In a second dream the BBC had allowed Stephen Moffat to air an episode of Dr Who that they had suppressed earlier, in which the Doctor gets to meet "God"- a kindly forgetful old gent who has stepped back from creation, devolving power to his lieutenants. A debate was going on as to whether it would have had more of an impact if the episode had been transmitted when first conceived....
In a second dream the BBC had allowed Stephen Moffat to air an episode of Dr Who that they had suppressed earlier, in which the Doctor gets to meet "God"- a kindly forgetful old gent who has stepped back from creation, devolving power to his lieutenants. A debate was going on as to whether it would have had more of an impact if the episode had been transmitted when first conceived....
Hiding Out In The City
Aug. 24th, 2024 08:02 am I woke from a dream in which I/we- the number of persons involved was unclear- was/were helping children escape from people traffikers in a vast, dusty Central American city. The leaders of our enterprise were a couple of middle-aged bearded mime artists. At one point the children were advised to go spend the night near "the fridge" because it would be cooler. Don't ask me what the "fridge" was. At another time a woman who was in cahoots with the traffikers recognised us and went off to tell them where we were. We could hear her- many streets away- ringing their doorbell and speaking to them and I thought, be shouldn't be able to hear any of that above the noise of the city but, after all, this is only a movie. After the incident with the woman we left the city centre and went and hid in an open space where there were tall stands of something like pampas grass....
Memories of Rottingdean
Aug. 23rd, 2024 08:45 am These windy, rainy, seaside days take me back to my grandparents' bungalow on a windy, rainy hill outside Rottingdean. It had a view of the sea and my grandfather used to take us for long walks on the golf course which we accessed via the garden gate at the back of the house. He told me that the bigger dents in the hillside were caused by Nazi flying bombs. I don't know whether this was true but I don't see why not. I used to stand at the top of these hollows, fling out my arms as if shot- and roll to the bottom. If I did this too often I felt queasy for the rest of the day.
People who lived in Rottingdean:
1. My grandparents
2. Sir Edward Burne-Jones the painter. "Ned" to his friends and family
3. Rudyard Kipling
4. Enid Bagnold, author of National Velvet and the Chalk Garden
5. The Copper family, folk singing dynasty.
If one walked to the golf course's furthest Eastern boundary one got a fine view over Roedean, the famous girls school. In later years I used to wish the Roedean girls would come and walk on the golf course too so I could get pally with them. On a fine day the sea from this viewpoint was streaked with emerald green and Tyrrian puple. In the rough grass bordering a chalk path here I once trod on a dead frog- and it gave me the horrors.
People who lived in Rottingdean:
1. My grandparents
2. Sir Edward Burne-Jones the painter. "Ned" to his friends and family
3. Rudyard Kipling
4. Enid Bagnold, author of National Velvet and the Chalk Garden
5. The Copper family, folk singing dynasty.
If one walked to the golf course's furthest Eastern boundary one got a fine view over Roedean, the famous girls school. In later years I used to wish the Roedean girls would come and walk on the golf course too so I could get pally with them. On a fine day the sea from this viewpoint was streaked with emerald green and Tyrrian puple. In the rough grass bordering a chalk path here I once trod on a dead frog- and it gave me the horrors.
A leaf just blew in through the open patio door. I suppose that's autumn's way of announcing itself.....
Not that it's really autumn yet. Most everything is still green. When I was a kid we took our seaside holidays in September- so I've always been inclined to regard September as a summer month.
And it's not even September yet....
But the sky is grey, the wind is blowing hard- in gusts. The wooden fence is shaking....
Not that it's really autumn yet. Most everything is still green. When I was a kid we took our seaside holidays in September- so I've always been inclined to regard September as a summer month.
And it's not even September yet....
But the sky is grey, the wind is blowing hard- in gusts. The wooden fence is shaking....
Back in the day, when I was operating as a vicar in a former mill town called Royton a parishoner once asked me who my hero was. I've never been much of a one for heroes, but I searched my mental files and told him- "Ian Botham"- who was at the time the wonder-boy of English cricket. This took him aback; he was expecting me to say Mother Teresa or Pope John Paul II or someone else of that kidney.
"And who is your hero?" I thought it only polite to ask in reply and he said, "My vicar", meaning me. But that's another story....
The thing is I dreamed about Ian Botham last night. He was still playing Test Cricket at an advanced age- and seemed like an awfully nice bloke. He had curly hair and his face was all wrinkly and I thought he looked very much like my idea of Don Quixote.....
"And who is your hero?" I thought it only polite to ask in reply and he said, "My vicar", meaning me. But that's another story....
The thing is I dreamed about Ian Botham last night. He was still playing Test Cricket at an advanced age- and seemed like an awfully nice bloke. He had curly hair and his face was all wrinkly and I thought he looked very much like my idea of Don Quixote.....
Fifty Nicker
Aug. 21st, 2024 09:10 am A £50 note came into our possession yesterday. Ailz is going to pay it into the bank because, she says, there are so many forgeries out there the shops won't accept them.
I'm not sure I've ever handled a £50 note before- at least not one of the modern plastic ones.
The verso has a portrait of Alan Turing with the prophetic message, "This is only a foretaste of what is to come and only the shadow of what is to be."
I'm not sure I've ever handled a £50 note before- at least not one of the modern plastic ones.
The verso has a portrait of Alan Turing with the prophetic message, "This is only a foretaste of what is to come and only the shadow of what is to be."
Summer's End
Aug. 20th, 2024 07:21 am It turns out our friendly neighbourhood herring gull has a mate and a baby. The baby put in a first appearance a couple of days ago. It's more or less the same size as its parent, has speckledy plumage and goes "peep. peep. peep". We know they're related because the adult gull allows it to eat alongside it.
Where's the nest? I think its on the flat roof of the dormer window in the attic- a site that one could only overlook with a drone. I've seen the baby poking its beak over the edge
I guess they'll be taking off soon, heading out to sea or- in the case of the baby- some inland nursery like the lake in Princes Park....
Summer is coming to an end. The light- when the sun is shining- has a richer, fuller, deeper quality than the light of high summer. It rained in the night and now a grey mist is hiding the hills....
Where's the nest? I think its on the flat roof of the dormer window in the attic- a site that one could only overlook with a drone. I've seen the baby poking its beak over the edge
I guess they'll be taking off soon, heading out to sea or- in the case of the baby- some inland nursery like the lake in Princes Park....
Summer is coming to an end. The light- when the sun is shining- has a richer, fuller, deeper quality than the light of high summer. It rained in the night and now a grey mist is hiding the hills....
L'Atalante
Aug. 19th, 2024 01:13 pm "What the fuck do you want me to do with that?" asked Jean Vigo when his producer presented him with the screenplay for L'Atalante.
He made it anyway- on condition he be allowed to rejig the story and use it as a skeleton on which to hang his own obsessions.
A young couple take their honeymoon on the barge that he captains. They have their ups and downs. That's just about all there is to it. But it's all that's needed.
"It's a nice little film." I thought when I'd finished watching it, "but does it really deserve to keep turning up on lists of the greatest movies ever?"
But I've not been able to shake it.
And I've put off watching other movies because I need time for my impressions to settle down,
It has the qualities of one of those haunting dreams that one can't quite fathom. Which is a roundabout way of calling it "deep".
And yet it never quite ceases to be an exercise in realism. "Poetic realism" is the category it gets slotted into. It's visually beautiful and there are moments of magic and surreality. One might be tempted to call it Felliniesque if Vigo hadn't come first- by something like 20 years.
There are three principal roles. Dita Parlo and Jean Dastre are engaging- but never soppy- as the young couple and Michel Simon- as the barge's mate- gives an a performance that- like the movie itself- expands in the memory. Simon was a very odd human being. I'd thought of comparing him to Peter Sellers or calling him Falstaffian- but comparisons sell him short and basically he's one of a kind. Vigo realised that he was best ridden on a very loose rein and let him improvise.
Vigo was consumptive. He made L'Atalante on the Seine in winter, the cold and damp exacerbated his condition and he was dead within weeks of completing it....
He made it anyway- on condition he be allowed to rejig the story and use it as a skeleton on which to hang his own obsessions.
A young couple take their honeymoon on the barge that he captains. They have their ups and downs. That's just about all there is to it. But it's all that's needed.
"It's a nice little film." I thought when I'd finished watching it, "but does it really deserve to keep turning up on lists of the greatest movies ever?"
But I've not been able to shake it.
And I've put off watching other movies because I need time for my impressions to settle down,
It has the qualities of one of those haunting dreams that one can't quite fathom. Which is a roundabout way of calling it "deep".
And yet it never quite ceases to be an exercise in realism. "Poetic realism" is the category it gets slotted into. It's visually beautiful and there are moments of magic and surreality. One might be tempted to call it Felliniesque if Vigo hadn't come first- by something like 20 years.
There are three principal roles. Dita Parlo and Jean Dastre are engaging- but never soppy- as the young couple and Michel Simon- as the barge's mate- gives an a performance that- like the movie itself- expands in the memory. Simon was a very odd human being. I'd thought of comparing him to Peter Sellers or calling him Falstaffian- but comparisons sell him short and basically he's one of a kind. Vigo realised that he was best ridden on a very loose rein and let him improvise.
Vigo was consumptive. He made L'Atalante on the Seine in winter, the cold and damp exacerbated his condition and he was dead within weeks of completing it....
A Hallucination Limited By The Senses
Aug. 19th, 2024 08:52 am A battery operated toy in the front room turned itself on and played a little tune: "This old man, he played one, he played knick-knack on my thumb." I went and took a look at it and couldn't see any explanation that wasn't paranormal.
Then it did it again....
Here's something I came across the other day on a podcast. I don't know its ultimate source. The guys were talking about DMT and other dimensions and one of them said, acknowledging it as a quote- " What we call normality is just a hallucination limited by the senses."
I remember two dreams from last night. In one I was sorting through piles of stuff I'd been storing in my mother's garage- some of which was compromising, much of which was junk and in the other I was trying to persuade a singer who looked remarkably like Charles Aznavour that he ought to be working as a Charles Aznavour tribute act. I understand the first one; the second will take some thinking about.
Then it did it again....
Here's something I came across the other day on a podcast. I don't know its ultimate source. The guys were talking about DMT and other dimensions and one of them said, acknowledging it as a quote- " What we call normality is just a hallucination limited by the senses."
I remember two dreams from last night. In one I was sorting through piles of stuff I'd been storing in my mother's garage- some of which was compromising, much of which was junk and in the other I was trying to persuade a singer who looked remarkably like Charles Aznavour that he ought to be working as a Charles Aznavour tribute act. I understand the first one; the second will take some thinking about.
Flutterment
Aug. 18th, 2024 07:31 amYesterday afternoon the RAF Tornado scared a pigeon though the open patio door into our bookroom. My exclamation caused Ailz- who was in the kitchen- to wonder whether the plane itself had crashed. What a flutterment! A frightened pigeon takes up a lot of space both actual and psychic. Having reached the barrier of the back wall it dropped down behind a chair in the corner, settled, recovered its senses and left the way it came....
Just round the corner from here is a little street we go down on our way back from the big Tesco. It's name- Ecmod Rd- has been baffling us, because Ecmod isn't a name or a word in any language.
Must be an acronym, we thought.
So this morning we were trying to work it out. Our best guess was Eastbourne Council Modern Overspill Development- which would fit the area..
Not too shabby, but wrong.
Ailz did a search on line and found that the street had been built over the yard where they used to park the buses a hundred years back- and ECMOD stands for Eastbourne Corporation Municipal Omnibus Depot.
Must be an acronym, we thought.
So this morning we were trying to work it out. Our best guess was Eastbourne Council Modern Overspill Development- which would fit the area..
Not too shabby, but wrong.
Ailz did a search on line and found that the street had been built over the yard where they used to park the buses a hundred years back- and ECMOD stands for Eastbourne Corporation Municipal Omnibus Depot.
