FiftyFive ~ # 169

Schizophrenic is the oddest word but I now know how it feels. UK to Australia and back to the UK in 6 days is a madness too far, but wooosh, such a blast and it is exciting. One of the things it reminds you of is how big the world is. Flying north over the Himalayas, for example, awesome terrain and a world hitherto unknown to this wee soul. I felt like a little heartbeat in a huge world of thunder. Now I know how Icarus felt as a wee speck against the "big sky". But of course I came back to this - snowy picture (the fairy grotto is back) ochone! The day I flew into Melbourne it was 32C (though it rained all the time I was there) and I returned to Brighton at -2C, feeling just a little discombobulated... big sky, big sea, wee me, love this song, I saw the crescent, you saw the whole of the moon...

FiftyFive ~ # 168

These past couple of nights I have been sleeping in my study. Not as penance or pique but out of consideration for the upstairs residents. I have had a heavy cold all week and it has left me with a residual hacking cough designed to waken the dead. And if this picture aside looks a little Gothic, in a waking the dead kind of way, well it wouldn't be far wrong. My study has these light curtains, see through to let the light in and its not worth pulling them closed. So as I lay on my bed settee around 3.30 am last night's nearly full moon shone through the window and bathed me in light. Beautiful it was, cold and dark and ethereal but wonderful in its awesome brightness. And then the air changed; I could see her at the window; her yellowing teeth and pale red face peering inside with the ghostly pressence of Cathy coming back to haunt Thrushcroft Grange, "Let me in, let me..." and then she howled! If anyone has ever head a vixen howl through a full moonlit night they will know nothing resembles babies being murdered more - das unheimlich, a guttural, butter curdling scream of sheer terror. Of course its one of the great sights of nature. Even if we were separated by the glass of the door, standing face-to-face with a vixen in the wee small hours is a treat indeed, and I wrapped my self in my duvet and watched, as she flicked her tail then nonchalantly turned and headed back down the garden to stalk someone else's cat, dog or child. Vixens are so cock sure of themselves, she didn't even cast me a backward glance. But then I also remembered something in that wee small hour! Yes. Today’s November full moon is a Blue Moon. It isn’t blue in color; only blue in name – at least, by one definition. Tonight’s moon is the third of four full moons in a season and so the folklore name... well, you know what's coming next. Serendipity doesn't allow us to let moments like this pass, a crying vixen and a blue moon, das unheimlich indeed... (in ellipses)

FiftyFive ~ # 167

From Macbeth to the Witches of Eastwick, wimin who appear in threes are very scary indeed. These three, though, were a lot of fun and a laugh a minute - though very bright and their contribution to my symposium last week was awesome. Professors three, Jen Webb; Jeri Kroll and Donna Brien (an African an American and an Australian) travelled all the way from Australia (where they live) to talk to my students and me which was a real treat, I confess. And it is encouraging to know that we all think about writing and creative work in words with such similar ideas and thoughts. Donna's cookery book embracing memoirs; Jeri's ideas on picture books and Jen's "falling man emblems" in post 9/11 fiction were an inspiration to this humble soul. I can't wait to meet up with them again in Australia - in 10 days time - yikes! In the meantime there is always chocolate cake! Forget the home improvements, let's go to Las Vegas - if you can bear to stop working! Though this picture of a fourth woman is a bit of a shock to this old heart. She forgot to put her skirt on (lol) but she will forever be the kid at the top of the stairs - someone will tell her to stand up straight and not be so self conscious of the fact that she is beautiful - chocolate cake wrapped in chocolate!

FiftyFive ~ # 166

This week I wore my grey suit for a symposium with the Australians - though saying that is a little unfair since one is an American and another an African - they just happen to reside in Australia. But it was jolly good fun and having fun while working hard is extremely refreshing - though they have made a happy man very old (to twist a well worn cliche) - I will post pictures as soon as I can develop them. In the meantime, am not a huge Tom Cruise fan, in fact hardly at all but I do like Hans Zimmer and so the Cruise pic (as small as I can make it) is worth the effort because of the tune that comes with it. It is called A Small Measure of Peace and I guess we all know where that idea comes from - enjoy.

FiftyFive ~ # 165

It has been one of those weekends where jobs needed to be done; new fridge to be bought; chores to be chored and generally stuff to be sorted. Next week the Australians invade - in fact as I write they are in the UK - in London and will descend my way on Tuesday. I am resting my liver for the time of arrival. I have just been reading an old Jewish question which is directed at children: "Did you ask any good questions today, child?" I find the more I ask myself and others the more I find out what I have yet to learn, which is pretty good and asking questions is a good way to begin the learning. Though, of course, no one has all the answers, even if some may think they do; and there is also the The Village Green Preservation Society to think about:

FiftyFive ~ # 164

Och - the thrill of a new book being published is always a good one. See aside, this is the first time I have seen it and I am jolly pleased - and so I should be, anyone would feel the same - so that's good. The story is a simple one - a huge adventure story that has global warming laced through it, just to keep the issue open. I never thought it would see the light of day - but there, it just goes to show. But this is just a short post from a busy bee - sooooo much work to do, and so much more to be done and the Australians are invading next week and they will drink everything in sight and be noisy and all southern hemisphericals - it'll be good to see them. But oh, this is coming up too: KYOTO (a big story about a little boy and a bear and a little story about global warming) A TEXT & PICTURE EXHIBITION – at The UNIVERSITY OF WINCHESTER, 10th November 2010 6-9pm The Stripe, Sparkford Road, Winchester SO22 4NR: ALL WELCOME FOR A GLASS OF WINE, NIBBLES AND A PROMENADE AROUND THE STORY!But time for the capers again - a noisier one this time - for hochin' and chookin':

FiftyFive ~ # 163

Nostalgia being what it is, sometimes we can wallow in its afterglow. Surrounded by guitars and sounds coming from speakers which sparkle with music that has such depth and soul it almost takes our breath away. This posting is dedicated to such a song because the lyrical content - originally in Gaelic - is such a harmonious lament that it deserves to be heard. And doesn't this kind of lament transcend nations and barriers and borders. Ochone, ah weel, that might jist be me thinkin' about my own nostalgic longings. The music is, Capercaillie - Fear A' Bhata and the lyrics are underneath the clip - Slainte’

Fhir a’bhàta, na ho ro eile

Fhir a’bhàta, na ho ro eile

Fhir a’bhàta, na ho ro eile

Mo shoraigh slàn leat ‘s gach àit’an téid thu

Boatman, o ho ro eile

Boatman, o ho ro eile

Boatman, o ho ro eile

A fond farewell wherever you go

Is tric mi ‘sealltainn o’n chnoc a’s àirde

Dh’fheuch am faic mi fear a’bhàta

An tig thu an-diùigh no’n tig thu a-màireach?

‘S mur tig thu idir gur truagh a tà mi

I often look from the highest hill

To try and see the boatman

Will you come today or tomorrow?

If you don’t come at all I will be downhearted

Tha mo chridhe-sa briste, brùite

‘S tric na deòir a’ ruith o m’ shùilean

An tig thu a-nochd no’m bi mo dhùil riut

No’n dùin mi’n dorus le osna thùrsaich?

My heart is broken and bruised

With tears often flowing from my eyes

Will you come tonight or will I expect you

Or will I close the door with a sad sigh?

‘S tric mi ‘faighneachd de luchd nam bàta

Am fac’ iad thu no ‘bheil thu sàbhailt’

Ach ‘s ann a tha gach aon dhiùbh ‘g ràitinn

Gur gòrach mise ma thug mi gràdh dhut

I often ask people on boats

Whether they see you or whether you are safe

Each of them says

That I was foolish to fall in love with you