Back On Track

After a bit of a hiatus from our viewing of the BBC Little Dorrit we’re back with Amy in Venice and Arthur in London, having just watched a couple of episodes back-to-back. It took great will-power not to keep going and watch the last two episodes as well given the hypnotic power of the tale, but we saw sense

Noi is completely wrapped up in William Dorrit, both as an irritating fool and a pathetically tragic figure. Undoubtedly Dickens’s most nuanced view of his own father, and Tom Courtenay does extraordinary justice to the part. The little scene between John Chivery and the old man was brilliantly touching – warm yet bleak at the same time. It’s really in the small bits and pieces of detail that this adaptation shines – though it excels in the big scenes also.

The last few episodes have caught the coldness of wealth in a wonderful manner. You long for Amy to return to where she belongs as much as she herself does.

Incidentally I’ve never understood those approaches to literature that don’t let you feel for the characters. I’m pretty sure Dickens wouldn’t have understood them either, so I’m in the best company there.

Focus On Family

Still in celebratory mode, and nice to have some of those I love to celebrate with.

Real Grace

The second of my CD purchases from the UK has been in heavy rotation over the last three days, or at least as heavy as being ultra-concerned with the Toad work has allowed. This one has a bit more contemporary relevance than Messers Emerson, Lake and Palmer having been released very recently. But Steven Wilson's Grace For Drowning for all its contemporaneity manages to evoke the great prog rock albums of the early-seventies, perhaps not surprisingly as Mr Wilson has been busy of late re-mixing the early items in the Crimson catalogue.

There are several passages that are eerily reminiscent of passages from Crimso's Lizard, and that's no bad thing to these ears, Lizard being, in some ways, my favourite album from the early years. And Theo Travis's flute evokes memories of the great Mel Collins on that most neglected of instruments in modern rock. But there's also plenty to listen to that sounds completely, refreshingly, new and original.

No wonder this is getting onto lists of the best CDs of recent years. I've fallen in love with the genre all over again. Prog rules, man!

Not Quite Ageless

What better way to enjoy clocking up yet another milestone in this great marathon of life than to pose for silly pictures with not-so-silly cards and presents?

In Denial

As a connoisseur of the mechanics of psychological projection and denial I found myself chortling with delight at John Terry's recent post-match interview following his sending-off against Barca for what was, even for Terry, an egregiously idiotic act. The genuine sincerity with which he informed the world, more than once, that he wasn't that kind of player and the pained look as he acknowledged the video of said egregiously idiotic act showed that he was precisely that kind of player and a bit more, will stay with me for ever as a bleakly hilarious example of disassociation of the highest order. I reckon he could have beaten the lie-detector.

Musical Memories

I bought a couple of CDs when we were in Manchester, one of which was the first Emerson, Lake and Palmer album, entitled, with stunning originality, Emerson, Lake and Palmer. I've been waiting for quite a while for it to be reissued on CD and was pleased to spot it being made available for a reasonable sum. The original vinyl version was one of my first ever purchases and I played it to death as a young teenager - usually playing air-drums along with it, Carl Palmer being in those long-lost days probably my favourite drummer, basically since he was so busy.

It's been many, many years since I listened to the album, and I was keen to hear it again, partly for purely nostalgic reasons, but also to see just how reasonable, or otherwise, my taste in music had been. I was relieved to find it quite listenable, generally lacking in the somewhat foolish bombast the band went on to specialise in (though they come close in places.) The two tracks I had retained a pretty good memory of were the Greg Lake compositions - Take A Pebble and Lucky Man - not surprisingly, I suppose, since these are straight songs, as it were; although, interestingly, I had very little recall of the extended instrumental sections of Take A Pebble.

But what I'm leading up to, and found quite fascinating, is that when I finally played the album on getting back here, not having listened to it in Manchester, I realised that as soon as I heard the opening bars of a track I had instant, complete recall of what was coming next, despite having thought I had completely forgotten the material. This was especially true of the instrumental The Barbarian and Knife-edge, which I'd considered my favourite track as a kid. It was very strange to suddenly know exactly what was coming next, as if the material was emerging from some deep, deep part of my memory, entirely, mysteriously, weirdly intact.

More Victims

Another story that has caught my attention lately concerns the shooting of Trayvon Martin. I have absolutely no idea what actually happened between the guy who shot him and the young man who died. And I'm not likely to until the case comes to trial and the evidence, such as it is, is heard in its entirety.

I wouldn't be surprised if the evidence pointed to a cold-blooded slaying of a defenceless young man based simply on the fact that the victim looked dangerous in the eyes of the man who pulled the trigger. Equally, I wouldn't be surprised if it became clear that the killer genuinely thought he was acting in self-defence and was being gravely threatened. And I wouldn't be surprised at an unfortunate interim position between these extremes.

Sadly, I'm also not in any sense surprised that so many commentators have already decided what happened based solely on their political affiliations. But I'm hopeful that the system of justice in America can be seen to deliver a detached rational verdict centered upon what can be known about what took place. That won't help the grieving parents too much though. In that sense the case is already lost.

The Victims

I found much to dislike in the English press in the week I was back in Manchester, but there was also plenty to praise. The coverage of the Breivik trial was uniformly excellent in the papers that had articles covering it. I was particularly heartened to see at least one paper assiduously listing the names of his victims, with photographs and a little background on each. It was a reminder of how much more worthwhile, indeed genuinely interesting, these ordinary folk were compared to the fanatic/madman in the dock. Good to hear about the torchlight processions in their memory also.

I'm not much interested in the psychology of the murderer to tell the truth. A poverty of imaginative understanding of others as evinced in this man's case is, disturbingly, all too common - almost banal. But I am interested in the workings of the Norwegian system of justice which so far has proceeded in a deeply thoughtful, civilised fashion. And it was good to see the papers showing awareness of that.

Another Departure

We're flying off this afternoon. Sometimes life seems to be a succession of partings. But there's always the pleasure of meeting and greeting to offset those little sorrows. Fare forward, voyager.

Closure

Today the funeral.

Insofar as these events can be good, and they can be very good, this one was very good. I think Mum would have enjoyed being there, insofar as you can enjoy being at a funeral - though she would have punctuated the various stages of the day with a sneaky cigarette (or two or three).

Cynthia and Auntie Vera both spoke of closure afterwards, and they were wise and right to do so. But, of course, there is never a final closure as the departed live on intensely in memory. Dad left us in 1976 and he's still vividly there in places in my mind, for which I am grateful.

Now Gertrude and John lie together, as they wished to, in eternity.