On The Bright Side

Arm and shoulders and back aching from several hours of marking, which I've just finished. Oddly enough it hasn't been such a bad day, but it's ended on a bit of a sour, not to say sore, note - though I'll be eating soon, so things can't be quite so bad. Healing's on its way.

Feasting

Noi spent the day at a Sweet & Savoury Soft Bread Class, taught by some international chef chappie from Taiwan. She came back this evening with a number of the products of her labour which I have been sampling since with distinct relish. My favourite so far: the ham & onion toast. Seriously wonderful, but so is everything else.

Not a bad way to end the working week, eh?

Theory And Practice

Gwenda has just announced her pregnancy to Wulfric, and the foundations have been laid for Merthin's bridge. As for Caris, I have no idea why she's making life so difficult for Merthin. And don't get me going on Ralph who's shaping up as a major Ken Follett villain despite the signs earlier in World Without End that he isn't fundamentally such a bad chap.

Why do we get so caught up in the purely imagined lives of characters who don't exist, except in the pages of imaginative fictions? As far as I can tell, this is the kind of question that bothers literary theorists. Frankly, whilst I find it mildly interesting, deep down it doesn't concern me all that much. What bothers me is finding out what happens to Gwenda and Wulfric and Merthin and Caris and Ralph, plus a load of other folk who live in the non-existent but astonishingly real Kingsbridge.

So that's enough for now. I'm off for a bit of a read before bedtime.

Mood Music

There are times when only the songs of Leonard Cohen can fill the space. Today, in the late afternoon, was one such time. I filled it with four off Ten New Songs, and it felt necessary, and I'm glad I did.

The funny thing is LC is the only musician of the singer-songwriter variety I admire that this applies to. Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Richard Thompson, Elvis Costello, Neil Young: any time. But not Leonard. I have to be in the mood, and I don't mean depressed or sour or dark or melancholy. Today I was perfectly happy on getting back from work but, for reasons I can't quite grasp, it had to be Mr Cohen serenading me as I relaxed.

I was thinking of this just now when it further occurred to me that Songs of Love and Hate was a very special album for me when I got hold of it as a fifteen-year-old (I think.) I didn't own that many albums and forced myself to love every one I spent my hard-earned money on. To be honest LC's third album was way too sophisticated for me but I managed to grow into it, I suppose. For example, I knew Avalanche was a great song pretty much on first hearing, but I didn't know why; and I understood it somehow, without knowing what it meant.

In fact, I still don't. But who needs to wrestle a meaning from, Well, I stepped into an avalanche / It covered up my soul ? I've been in that avalanche even if the song remains above and beyond this particular sleeper.

A Rhetorical Question

If you can't lick the plate after finishing your bangers & mash & gravy & onions, then when can you lick the plate? That's what I'd like to know.

Testing Times

Life has a way of not getting easier, which is no bad thing. At least when you're struggling you know that you're very much in the here and now and alive to the struggle.

And, yes, it's been one of those days.

Not Exactly Routine

It's been an odd sort of Sunday. Noi had a baking class to attend up in Woodlands and, since we'd made an arrangement to have dinner with Boon & Mei up there, it was decided that I would spend the day at Fuad & Rozita's so Noi didn't have to drive back to pick me up after her class. I had quite a bit of marking to do and set out my stall on the dining table in their place wondering whether I'd be able to stuck in to the work involved in this foreign environment.

To my surprise I managed the pile of scripts almost effortlessly, with breaks for the necessary teh tarik and to watch the first half of the United game - oh, and to watch bits and pieces of a BBC Attenborough doc. Also managed a quick lunch out with Fuad & Rozita at the Al Ameen food place that we later went to with Boon & Mei. 

It's the first time in a long time that marking has felt not exactly effortless, but not really effort-full, if you see what I mean. Mind you, it's a relief to get back home and prepare for the usual routine on the morrow. It doesn't pay to have too much excitement in one's life.

Stoned

Spent the early part of the day marking exam scripts and listening to the Stones - albums from the seventies: Sticky Fingers, It's Only Rock and Roll, Some Girls. (All at reasonable volume since the Missus went out.) Decided I preferred the listening to the marking, but no great surprise in that.

Also decided that Some Girls is a work of pure genius, the equal of anything the British Bad Boys managed in the sixties, something I didn't quite grasp when I first listened to it in 1978.

No Direction Home

Found myself this afternoon in a talk entitled 'Navigating a Complex World'. Coped by pretty much switching off. I'm quite happy not knowing where I'm going. With luck I'll arrive somewhere, somehow.

A Sense Of Wonder

I've now experimented with playing two albums by Stevie Wonder at a couple of sessions in the gym and the results have been, as expected, excellent in all respects. One slightly unexpected aspect of the experience though has been the fact that I've found myself listening to songs I've known inside out for some five decades with new ears simply as a result of being on the elliptical trainer as they've been blasting out. I've always thought of Fulfillingness First Finale as pretty much a perfect album and that was amply confirmed by hearing it in the gym. It's so warm, so rich. And then tonight I gave a spin to the earlier, more raw and earthy Music of my Mind and just fell totally in love with everything on it precisely because it lacks the sheen of the later album. Those drums! So richly, drivingly, messy.

And that voice! Or, rather, voices since Stevie so often multi-tracked himself - and still sounded completely spontaneous. I've no idea how he did it, but I'm so glad he did.