POEM

A Blackbird Singing - RS Thomas

It seems wrong that out of this bird,
Black, bold, a suggestion of dark
Places about it, there yet should come
Such rich music, as though the notes'
Ore were changed to a rare metal
At one touch of that bright bill.

You have heard it often, alone at your desk
In a green April, your mind drawn
Away from its work by sweet disturbance
Of the mild evening outside your room.

A slow singer, but loading each phrase
With history's overtones, love, joy
And grief learned by his dark tribe
In other orchards and passed on
Instinctively as they are now,
But fresh always with new tears.

Really appreciate this and how measured and it is, but think choice of word in the last line ("tears") renders the whole thing excessively sentimental.
Another word would've been better.

PHOTOBOOTH

A few days ago I had reason to remember this episode, which happened about four years ago.

I’d walked to a busy tube station in my lunch-hour to have passport pictures taken. As I stood by the booth waiting for the machine to spew out the pictures, my thoughts were occupied by the activity on the station concourse (it was lunchtime on a hot working day in July so there was plenty going on: many hot / flustered / semi-clad / business-suited / relaxed / rushing people were bustling about the station…). But my mind also wandered periodically to the photos and with some anticipation I wondered whether they’d be flattering or not.

I stood waiting for a few minutes, semi-abstracted (as always), but in truth not really thinking too hard or too deeply about any of it.

Later, when the photos dropped down a chute and I reached to pick them up, all thoughts/awareness of my surroundings receded to the back of my mind. I was thinking solely of what I would look like in the photos. I know this is vain but it seems very typical (especially of women) when looking at photos. I glanced down at the young woman in the photos who resembled me – late 20s, mid-length brown hair, just a hint of a smile – and immediately went into a profound state of shock. My first thought was this: I’ve been deluding myself about my appearance! Quickly followed by: I don’t see myself in the same way that others must see me.

I had thought the image wasn’t me… It was a short-lived identity crisis and for what must have been a second or two (but felt longer), I was deeply confused about such a basic thing as who I am. The photos were delivered four or five minutes after I had sat in front of the flashing bulb and there had been nothing untoward about any of it. Slowly, clarity dawned and I understood that the photograph was of someone else who just happened to bear a passing resemblance to me (all features roughly the same: a white woman of a similar age and with similar hair).

Everything made sense when I figured this out. The next person to sit in the booth would go on to receive my photos. Alas, I was short of time and had to go back to the office (and couldn’t really, in any case, have stood by, allowed someone to be similarly conned, and then have the nerve to ask them for their/my photos).

It might not sound much now but it was a strange experience at the time.

GREEN PARROTS

Strolling around Barcelona, noticed a lot of mad and very noisy green parrots. I figured that they couldn't possibly be native to the climate/part of the regular flora/fauna. Here's the answer:

A plague of Quaker parrots is causing alarm in the Spanish city of Barcelona.
Also known as the South American Monk parakeet and originally from Latin America, the bird has a prodigious appetite and its population in the city is driving the citizens to distraction.

The Quaker parrot is an aggressive bird and eats just about everything green it can find - flowers, grass, even tree branches. With a high rate of reproduction and no predators in the area, the Quaker is threatening the survival of local bird species. Citizens of Barcelona are growing increasingly worried as more and more of these grey-green parrots occupy their city.

The first birds arrived as pets in the 1970s. Owners, tired of their chirping, released them. Now a population of 50 has grown to well over 2,000. There are even more in the Catalonian countryside. Farmers say last year Quaker parrots munched through over 50,000 tomatoes. Experts from Barcelona's Museum of Natural Sciences are now trying to control the bird.

FRIDAY the 13TH

Lots of interesting info about its unlucky connotations. Folklorists are unclear of exactly how and why it came to be feared but one thing is clear: Friday was formerly considered unlucky and so was the number 13. At some point in time, the two susperstitions came together. Here are only three (of many) theories -

To the ancient Egyptians, we are told, life was a quest for spiritual ascension which unfolded in stages — 12 in this life and a 13th beyond, thought to be the eternal afterlife. The number 13 therefore symbolized death — not in terms of dust and decay, but as a glorious and desirable transformation. Though Egyptian civilization perished, the death symbolism they conferred on the number 13 survived, only to be corrupted by later cultures who associated it with fear of death rather than reverence for the afterlife.

Other sources suggest the number 13 was purposely vilified by the founders of patriarchal religions in the early days of western civilization because it represented femininity. Thirteen had been revered in prehistoric goddess-worshiping cultures, allegedly, because it corresponded to the number of lunar (menstrual) cycles in a year (13 x 28 = 364 days). The "Earth Mother of Laussel," for example, a 27,000-year-old carving found near the Lascaux caves in France often cited as an icon of matriarchal spirituality, depicts a female figure holding a cresent-shaped horn bearing 13 notches. According to this theory, as the solar calendar triumphed over the lunar with the rise of male-dominated civilization, so did the number 12 over the number 13, thereafter considered anathema.

Twelve gods were invited to a banquet at Valhalla. Loki, the Evil One, god of mischief, had been excluded from the guest list but crashed the party anyway, bringing the total number of attendees to 13. True to character, Loki raised hell by inciting Hod, the blind god of winter, to attack Balder the Good, who was a favourite of the gods. Hod took a spear of mistletoe offered by Loki and obediently hurled it at Balder, killing him instantly. All Valhalla grieved. And although one might take the moral of this story to be "Beware of uninvited guests bearing mistletoe," the Norse themselves apparently concluded that 13 people at a dinner party is just plain bad luck. As if to prove the point, the Bible tells us there were exactly 13 present at the Last Supper. One of the dinner guests — er, disciples — betrayed Jesus Christ, setting the stage for the Crucifixion.

PEDANTIC GRAMMATICAL HAIR-SPLITTING #991

Why ‘ironing board’ but not ‘surfing board’?
Why ‘surfboad’ but not ‘ironboard’?

Mobile Phone

Was foolish enough to take on a contract with a lesser-known mobile phone company because they had a competitive tariff. The tariff was why I defected – I don’t care about the handset/ringtones/etc. When I took on a 12 month contract they said I had to have a gimmicky toy phone that takes photographs and plays things in surround sound. They said I couldn’t have a normal one that sends and receives text messages and phone calls. So far, this handset has:

1) defaulted to Norwegian (its display panel)
2) prevented any called or calling party from hearing me – even though I could
hear the other party perfectly clearly.

When I phoned from a landline to get this sorted out, the woman said “It’s a very common problem with this handset”. For godssake! - It’s a phone! Phones are for talking! If this is a “common” occurrence, then I’d say it’s less "problem" and more "fatal flaw". If a commonplace gadget is frequently unable to perform the task for which it was designed, bin it and start again.

Weather

As surely as Winter gives way to Spring, it seems that someone will be making rash predictions about that Winter or speculating on the Spring or Summer

The severe winter predicted last year failed to materialise. This week, the newspapers proclaim “Phew! What a scorcher!” with reference to consecutive weeks of 35 degree heat we can expect this summer.

As Chuck D might say, “Don’t believe the hype”.

Button

This morning I sewed a button onto the collar of the Chairman’s shirt, while he was wearing it ! And yes, it is 2005 and not 1955. Anyway, as you might expect of an ‘old-school-tie’, private City trading house, he is impossibly grand (and was, of course, terribly grateful). I avoided jabbing him with the needle but seemed to make a real mess of the stitching. I’m not at all confident that the button will still be on the collar at the end of the day.

BELTANE

Beltane is one of the principal Celtic festivals (the primary festival being Samhain - Halloween/Feast of All Souls). Celebrated halfway between the Vernal equinox and midsummer (the summer solstice), Beltane traditionally marked the arrival of summer in ancient times.

Beltane and its counterpart Samhain divide the year into two primary seasons, Winter (dark part) and Summer (light part). As Samhain is about honoring death, Beltane is about honoring life. It is the time when the sun is released from the bondage of winter and able to rule once again over summer and life.

Beltane, like Samhain, is a time of "no time" when magic abounds - the veils between the two worlds are at their flimsiest and the two worlds intermingle. On the night before Beltane, folk would place rowan branches at their windows and doors for protection, since many otherworldly occurrences could transpire during this time of "no time" - it is said that the Queen of the Faeries rides out on her white horse. Roving about on Beltane Eve, she will try to entice people away (see the legend of Thomas the Rhymer).

The beginning of summer heralds an important time, for the winter is a difficult journey and weariness and disheartenment set in. Personally, one is tired down to the soul. In times past, food stocks were low and variety was a distant memory. The drab non-color of winter matches the dullness and fatigue that permeate on many levels to this day.

Beltane marks the passing of winter to the growing season; it is a festival of rapturous gaiety. It celebrates the rousing of the earth from her gently awakening slumber - a time when the pleasures of the earth and self are fully awakened. Celebrations include frolicking through the countryside, maypole dancing, leaping over fires to ensure fertility, circling the fire three times (sun-wise) for good luck in the coming year, athletic tournaments, feasting, music, drinking, children gathering flowers, hobby horses, May birching and folks "going a maying". Flowers, flower wreaths and garlands decorate this holiday, as well as ribbons and streamers. Flowers are crucial for they signal the victory of Summer over Winter and the blossoming of sensuality in nature and the bounty it will bring.

Young men and women wandered into the woods before daybreak of May Day morning with garlands of flowers and/or branches of trees. They would arrive - most rumpled from joyous encounters - to the maypole for the Beltane celebrations. Life was not an exercise but rather a joyful dance.

On Beltane eve the Celts would build two large fires - Bel Fires - lit from the nine sacred woods (oak, elm, ash, beech...). The Bel Fire is an invocation to Bel (the Sun God) to bring blessing and protection to the tribe. Cattle were ritually driven between two needfires (built on a knoll) to purify, bring luck, and protect, as well as to ensure their fertility before they were taken to summer grazing lands. An old Gaelic adage: "Eadar da theine Bhealltuinn" - "Between two Beltane fires". The Bel fire was a sacred fire believed to heal and purify. The fires further celebrate the burning away of winter. The ashes of the Beltane fires were smudged on faces and scattered in the fields. Household fires would be extinguished and re-lit with fresh fire from the Bel Fires.

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Perhaps I am a Pagan. Christianity is so very obtuse with its sin, angry vengeful "God", immaculate conception, resurrection, heaven, hell... (whisper it: a load of cack.)

On the other hand, the glorification and observation of nature as the Celts saw and Pagans see it is very easy to grasp. As easy as falling off a log. Look around: it's easy to see why the Celts dated the start of summer to the first of May. Horse chestnut trees with their blossoms looking so 'perky' and upright! Blossom which appeared to weigh down the boughs of trees with its apparent bulk, like fruit. Of a sudden, massing thick fragrant foliage and trees rioting like Kings. So prolific, so dense, so green. Ka-pow - everywhere!

DON'T GO NEAR THE WATER...

Without wishing to propagate more stereotypes (no, really) these nautical proverbs seem to contain something of a country’s “national character”. Obviously there’s really no such thing as a country’s “national character” and I’m making it all up, but surely there’s a whiff of the comedy stereotype abounding in these? Here’s what I’m getting at:

Bulgarian Proverb: If you want to drown yourself, don't torture yourself with shallow water.
(depressive)

English Proverb: Worse things happen at sea.
(“mustn’t grumble”)

French Proverb: If the seawater were hotter we could catch boiled fish.
(gastronomy)

German Proverb: God will help a seaman in a storm but the pilot must remain at the wheel.
(efficiency!)

Irish Proverb: Nodding the head does not row the boat.
(illogical)

Italian Proverb: After the ship has sunk, everyone knows how she might have been saved.
(panic)

Japanese Proverb: If you are in a boat you are more afraid of fire than of water.
(insight, profundity)

Latin Proverb: Each man makes his own shipwreck.
(self awareness)

Russian Proverb: When you have fallen into water, the fear of water is gone.
(recklessness, fearlessness)


and this is the link. It’s an interesting site worth having a look at.
http://users.eastlink.ca/~grahamfamily/

ELECTION

Last year - wrong President.
Last month - wrong Pope.
This week - wrong Prime Minister.

D'oh! D'oh! D'oh!

THE CHARACTER OF HAMLET

Have been reading the text and criticisms of Hamlet, off and on, when the mood takes me. It's a task that's been "in progress" for some time (more time that it should've taken). But you can't just pick it up on the tube. Shakespeare calls for a modicum of application and concentration. As with all good things, the best and most worthwhile aims/endeavours require effort. Being much more of a thinker than a doer myself, I sympathise with Hamlet. These are some of my favourite lines (this is certainly from my favourite of the five or so soliloquies).

How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and god-like reason
To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,
A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
And ever three parts coward, I do not know
Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'

Utterly fabulous and wonderful.