Aspirational

Got treated just now to smoked salmon on toast with eggs on top by The Missus. All a bit posh for a lad from Denton, Manchester, but highly acceptable. 'Eggs benedict', she reckoned, and I can definitely learn to live with it as long as I get beans on toast once in a while.

Making A Stand

As I mentioned back in early October last year, I'd embarked on a rereading of Steven King's epic The Stand after recovering from my Delirium, alongside the equally estimable Misery, but then broke off when some books from Fifi arrived to adorn my bedside table and soak up my attention. For some reason I don't quite understand I started reading The Stand again in the middle of last week from the point at which I broke off. 

I'm glad I did.

Back In Training

Got to the gym this afternoon for the first time in a little under two months. Doing the business with As You Like It prevented any consideration of working out for a couple of weeks of the month and last week I was hit by a series of evening meetings and generally having to play catch-up post-production.

To my surprise I managed fifty minutes on the elliptical trainer quite easily, but I didn't set it to full resistance so that probably helped. The most obvious sign I'd lost something since my last visit was that I struggled a bit on the numbers for my routines on the weights, but the shortfall wasn't too alarming.

I've now got it in mind to keep up a steady weekly routine through August, September, October and November. But, as the events of late August last year on the personal front brought home to me with a vengeance, you never can tell.  

At One

A rare free Friday afternoon - after a morning spent at the school's Annual Cross Country. The following successfully achieved: finally managed to activate a cash card that I received back in April and never got going; topped up my trusty ezlink card so I don't have to hunt down dollar coins to pay for my teas in SAC; paid the car insurance through an AXN after a failed attempt the week before last; cashed a cheque for $20.00 from NUH, which I presume is a refund for some kind of over-payment from a recent hospital visit. I now feel at one with the Modern World.

This won't last, of course, but I thought I might as well place it on record.

Second Time Around

Lately I've been listening obsessively to Mike Caplin's brilliant remaster of the mighty Steely Dan's brilliant lost track from the brilliant Gaucho: The Second Arrangement. Prior to a month or so ago I'd been avoiding seeking out the various versions I'd heard were available on YouTube since I suspected that no matter how good the song was - and those who knew quite obviously thought it was more than a bit special - it was going to be a disappointment in the poor version of it that might have somehow survived the wiping of the original master.

Finally I listened and on a first hearing thought it sounded great but wasn't exactly an outstanding song in itself. A second hearing proved me wrong and almost convinced me that if it had made the album it would have been one of the stronger pieces. By the third hearing I'd decided it was up there with the title track (my favourite cut of all) and would have been one of the really great Dan singles if it had been released as such.

Listening to it today it occurred to me that Steely Dan pretty much provided the soundtrack for my time at university. Of course, we listened obsessively to numerous great bands, but none as consistently as Don and Walter's merry men. And it further occurred to me that I'm now experiencing a sort of revival of those long lost years, and a completely, magically, unexpected one.

Opening Up

A recent, quite brilliant, post on a Prom concert featuring Northern Soul at the Albert Hall by the redoubtable Richard Williams served as a reminder of the narrowness of my younger self in terms of musical tastes. I grew up pretty much side by side with this kind of music, had a few friends who were big fans, and basically liked the bits I heard, but was reluctant to own up to a liking for music that wasn't 'heavy' enough for my teenage self. The result: I never listened with the attention it deserved and wasn't enough of a dancer to be ready to cut a rug to it. 

Luckily I've been granted the grace to listen more closely and appreciatively years after the event - and to read Mr William's deeply informative appreciation of the whole scene. I'm even considering some (strictly private) dancing in celebration.

The moral? Better open than closed (with respect to minds and ears. But not necessarily doors.)

Not Exactly Under Control

Over the years I've learnt, sometimes the hard way, how to relinquish control. These days I can't be entirely sure what lies ahead in any stretch of time spent at work and I can even vaguely enjoy the sense of being derailed by the minor crises that dot my week. Mind you, when three or more decide to manifest at pretty much one and the same time that sense of enjoyment becomes vaguer to the point of anonymity.

Yes, today was one of those days.

Facing The Facts

When I arrived to prepare for our final performance of the show on Saturday at 3.00 pm, there were two workmen cutting the grass in the area adjacent to the amphitheatre where we doing our thing. As I went to check on the crash barriers we'd installed on the various corridors around the acting area I couldn't help but notice just how noisy the machines were that the guys were using and how unwieldy they looked. I tried to imagine using one, having to deal head-on with the noise, and being dressed from head to foot in the heavy duty clothing the workers had donned to protect themselves from the scorching sun and the shards of grass flying around. I reckon I was a pretty hardy young chap back in the days when I was labouring in factories, but I think even the younger version of me wouldn't have been able to pull off a full shift doing the grass-cutting.

The obvious truth that we couldn't have begun to consider using the area for public performance if it were not for the fact the surrounding grass was kept in such good order came to the forefront of my mind. As did the fact that it was highly likely these guys were paid a tiny fraction of what I was getting for doing something I enjoyed, taxing as it was. Sometimes simple truths can be awkward, but usefully salutary.

Absorbed

Spent a bit more than a couple of hours this afternoon watching a wide selection of young people in public performance of their various arts. Very struck by the complete absorption of pretty much all the performers in what they were creating on stage. In its own way this was in itself hypnotizing to witness. 

The losing of the self in the act of making something that transcends the self is something we take for granted, yet is the great gift of Art. Magic made available - and available to all, not just the ultra-talented (though the level of talent today was remarkable. All the various groups excelled, and there was one version of a Shostakovich piece, with which I wasn't familiar, that blew it out of the park, and then some.)

Still On-going

Now gearing up for this evening's performance and getting a load of admin tasks done. Oh, and I'm still marking stuff for the IB May session which is coming in in dribs and drabs, this being the marking on appeal. It feels like it never ends, but it does (the IB stuff, that is. Ordinary stuff has an eternal quality about it.)

In real life I gave a spin to The Style Council's Our Favourite Shop this morning, the 2 CD deluxe edition. I vaguely appreciated Paul Weller's new band after The Jam back in the old days, but not as much as I do now. Really must have a full Modfather play-through one of these days when I can carve out a bit more space. 

On-going

Just back from our second night of As You Like It, though since we kicked off at 4.00 pm in a sort of matinee version, it might be better to regard this one as the afternoon version. It occurs to me that it's quite a while since I've been involved in a show running more than a couple of nights. I've always favoured four performances for school productions, this being draining, but bearably so, and affording a deeply rich learning experience for the players as they realise how much shows grow in repeated performance.

Something else that I've realised more acutely than usual. We're doing this show outdoors, as it were, the performers having the cover of a couple of school corridors, but the audience being out in the open. Yesterday things were touch and go because it had rained hard all day prior to kick-off, and we actually started proceedings in a light drizzle. This demanded a lot of patience and understanding from those watching, and they gave of that plentifully, prompting me to remember a mantra I hit upon a few decades back: You don't get good drama without good audiences. (I think this is original, by the way, though I may well have stolen it from someone wiser.)

Oh, and I should add that yesterday we had to deal with a burst pipe and a flood backstage some forty-odd minutes ahead of my introducing the play - except that most of the 'dealing with' was done by the guys from our Estate Department, who were also coping with minor flooding in other spots. Without their intervention we would never have been able to proceed, reminding me of Peter Gabriel's pithy observation that there's always More Than This, always so much more than the talent on stage. Always so many others we rely on in a world more connected than we can possibly understand.

Finishing Well

There are few things in life more satisfying than an excellent first night of a show. And since that's what I had the privilege to enjoy this evening I'm feeling entirely at one with the universe.

Also I'd sort of forgotten the intensity of actually being onstage. It felt good to remember and, better still, experience that again. 

Finishing Badly

It had been a pretty good day, even if a very busy one, up to around 10.00 pm when I received a message relating to a student who decided not to follow the procedure on attending an extra class provided in the evening for some of our scholars. This has resulted in a major headache for my good self and a lot of extra work over the next two days when I have no time to do anything extra. If it sounds like I'm complaining, I am. Patience is a great virtue, but over the last hour of running around mine has failed.

The End

Will Shakespeare isn't exactly clear on the fate of Old Adam in As You Like It, and he really doesn't need to be as the old chap is very much a minor character. He gets carried offstage, having just enjoyed a bit of nosh-up in the Forest of Arden, around the mid-point of Act 2 and that's about it. I reckon he goes off to die and I'm playing it that way with a sort of exaggerated pathos that speaks to the major ham actor I've always been. Great fun for me. Not so sure about everyone else - but since it's highly likely to be my final, final, final stage performance I'm going out with a bang rather than a whimper.

Must say, it's nice to be able to put my feet up for a good hour or so before the curtain call.

Slowing Down

Back in early June I was applying my mind as to the chunky Collected Poems from my shelves I intended to give the end-to-end treatment next. Happily there are not that many tomes left to deal with. To be honest I was a wee bit reluctant to embark on the Farrar, Strauss and Giroux paperback Collected Poems of Robert Lowell given that the poetry, well, some of it, is pretty exacting and the very fact the book is well-annotated itself might result in painfully slow progress. But I overcame my reluctance and set off around 7 June.

Since then I've managed just six poems - the first few pages of Lord Weary's Castle. But here's the thing. I've enjoyed each one immensely and am relishing the fact I feel absolutely no compulsion to speed up. Today I read the classic The Quaker Graveyard in Nantucket (imagine having something as brilliant as that in your first published collection!) and for its duration got completely lost in a location I've never come close to. In fact, I'm going to read it all over again before moving on as soon as I get the chance (which won't be for quite a while, I'm afraid.)

Liking It

Spent the morning and early afternoon rehearsing with our drama guys for our soon-to-be-realised production of As You Like It. As is always the case when stitching a whole show together, the proceedings felt akin to a problem-solving exercise, exacerbated by a fractured foot (not mine) and the fact we're performing outside. And, as is always the case when doing Shakespeare, you have the sheer enjoyment of the glorious language to fall back on when the mind is wandering. Which mine does a lot these days.

Acceptance

Not so easy to get to Friday Prayers. Had to set off quite late and the hard rain made the roads that bit more tricky to negotiate. And then came the walk through the car park in the rain to get to the masjid. Fortunately I managed to stay reasonably dry - my umbrella helped - but had some awareness of rising damp as I settled with the other late-comers in a small room off the main prayer hall.

At one time this would have been a bit of an ordeal. And I'm not saying it felt good today; but it felt necessary and more than acceptable. The way of things.

Getting There

Got lost poorly in my thoughts in the late morning. Resolved the situation by listening, not for the first time, to Radiohead delivering the goods and then some in live performance. Found myself there, though not entirely sure where there was, but definitely somewhere. If you see what I mean.

But a note of caution: Just because you feel it, doesn't mean it's there.

On The Mend

There are few things to recommend about feeling ill. Except the mild sense of wonder when you start to feel better. Enjoying exactly that now.

At The Centre Of Things

There's something about an iffy tummy that's more than a little destabilizing. When the middle of one's being rises in rebellion, even if just mildly, it colours the experience of a working day, I can tell you. Fortunately on the two occasions when getting to a lavatory became an absolute priority I succeeded in doing so. Hope this all settles down by tomorrow. Not sure I can take the suspense.

No Fun At All

Woke up a number of times in the course of a sleepless night to throw up (three times) and deal with attacks of diarrhoea (twice and on-going.) The verdict of the household is that I'm suffering from stomach flu, passed to me by the Missus, who wasn't at all well on Friday. In fact, she's still not back to top form.

Fortunately we have Idham as a driver, and we'll be going back with him and Fafa, otherwise we'd be in trouble. So lucky and unlucky all at once. 

Fun And Games

At Mak's house in Melaka today, and most of tomorrow, for a kenduri. Extravagant numbers of children around earlier, though the place is quiet now. Good to hear the laughter. Not so much the screaming. Good to see and hear the house coming alive.

And lots of teh tarik.

Still At The Movies

I'm still thinking about Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (think that's the title) a day later. I don't mean that I keep recalling the film because it was so good, or that it was so brilliantly thought-provoking I can't help mull over its themes. No, I mean that I can't make up my mind whether I thought the film was good or bad, and I'm not really sure why I can't do that, so I'm puzzling over that. Also I'm trying to figure out why I genuinely found the first two movies (Raiders and Temple) thrilling when I watched them but kept nodding off during the action sequences of this one.

I suppose age has something to do with this: the fact that Indy looks so old (except when he's de-aged and just looks a bit odd) and the fact that I was reasonably young when I watched the earlier films and now I'm most decidedly not.

One thing's for sure. The film wasn't at all what I expected it to be. But I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.

At The Movies

Just watched the latest Indiana Jones movie at a real cinema. It seems some of the scenes were shot using 'de-aging' technology. Am thinking of asking if the film-makers might send me some of that stuff. I reckon I need it more than Harrison Ford.

Feeling The Strain

The plan had been to get to the gym this evening. It's been a while since I've been there - not since the day before we set off for Rome in early June. The plan, alas, came to naught as plans so often do in my case. I was aware of feeling a mild strain in my back early yesterday but confidently thought this would fade after a night's sleep. It didn't. It got a lot worse and coloured my day a deep indigo.

So I've spent the evening getting bits of work done and fretting over the state of my aging body. Not sensible, I know (except for the work, I suppose) but there's some small virtue in feeling miserable over not exerting oneself, I'm sure. I just can't figure out what it is, but I'll get back to you when I do.

Opening Ears

Chanced upon a highly informative article about the music of Gyorgy Ligeti in the Graun today. I love it when an expert in a field - in this case Gillian Moore, the Southbank Centre's head of classical music, which sounds pretty formidable to me - shares their enthusiasm, and knowledge, in a way that educates and inspires at one and the same time. I knew something of the great composer, but now I want to know a whole lot more, and to listen to a whole lot more of his work a whole lot more closely. Just wish I had a bit more time to do so, but there's enough on YouTube to be fruitfully occupied with for now.

One interesting thing about this kind of article is that if the Graun opens a Comments section along with it then it will be worth reading. Even the nay-saying, and there's a bit of that involved in this case, has its place since it makes you think all the more about what makes the music work for those who clearly are in love with it.

Listing

There's a deep satisfaction involved in getting to the end of a day and seeing all the items in the to-do list thereof crossed off as completed. The problem is the longer list or lists lurking elsewhere of things crying out to be done that just couldn't be considered on the day in question.

Getting Out

The plan had been to go for a walk in the early morning with the usual suspects - Boon, Mei, Nahar and Yati - but this was abandoned when the news came, just as we were ready to drive off, that Boon was suffering from a poorly leg (or two) and Nahar from a mountain of exam work. So Noi and I went to West Coast Park instead to stretch our own legs, and had a jolly good time there instead.

We missed our chums, of course, but made the best of our own company. And we caught sight of three otters free-styling in one of the ponds there, which alone was worth the price of admission (not that we had to pay.) 

Getting Started

Attended a wedding this afternoon - that of my colleague, Jonas. It felt good to be there, simply because he's such a nice guy, most definitely one of nature's gentlemen, and the omens looked highly promising for the newly-weds. Nothing's guaranteed, of course, but sometimes the signs point in all the right directions.

Nothing beats perfectly ordinary happiness. And nothing is more precious.