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Showing posts from July, 2012


Nostalgia for the Light

You must see Nostalgia for the Light at the cinema while you can. It conveys the connectedness of the world - the galaxy - of death and beginnings - of hope and despair - brilliantly. Although, I would recommend that you familiarise yourself with Thatcher's love of Pinochet beforehand.

Cedric made me

This week I bought popular linguist David Crystal's 'The Story of English in 100 Words'. The words are not only fascinating in themselves, the first one - hailing from the 5th century - being roe (as in roe-deer), but present a brilliant way into the history of the UK. Celts (Britons), Romans, Picts, Anglo-Saxons... This first word of roe stems from inscriptions made from our 5th century ancestors. I was quite taken with the fact that, when making pots or other tools and suchlike, it wasn't uncommon for the maker to state the name of its creator. 'Cedric made me', being one example given, scribed on a humble pot. It makes one realise the power of creation; of craft. It also testifies to Marx's notion that the opposite or antidote to the wretched condition of alienated labour is the craft of the individual. When the Cedrics, the Edmunds and the Annes of these times made these things they could immediately put it to their own or their close ones practical use…

It's like...

This weekend couldn't have come soon enough. I always look to the end of the working week as 'my time', which really equates to 'writing time' or simply 'reading, arting around, and catching up with friends time'. I'm hoping to have a nice cycle tomorrow and get stuck into some writing. There are so many books out that I'd quite like to delve into though.

On my way home this evening I popped into Kew Books and read first page or so of Vargas Llosa's The Dream of the Celt, based on life of humanitarian and Irish nationalist Roger Casement.

There's also Kitty Aldridge's 'What I Learn from Dead Men', about a young man working as a trainee in a funeral home, yet dealing - or not - with bereavement at home. There's also 'Joy' by Jonathan Lee, about the attempted suicide of a corporate lawyer on the day she is about to be made a partner in the firm. There is also 'Dirt', by David Vann. So much to read, so little tim…

Round up

Firstly, I have a new blog. For the past year or so I had been taking pics whenever I chanced upon an item that someone had dropped in the street. I thought it would be good to have an image only blog, too, what with this one being concerned with words.
Secondly, I am still reading the book on fairy tales, but was swept up yesterday in The Life of Rebecca Jones, by Angharad Price and Lloyd Jones. It is a simplistically beautiful account of a Welsh farming family in which three of the sons are blind. Because of this they receive better educations, with Rebecca and and a seeing brother staying at home to work on the farm. There are moments so simply rendered and yet are bursting with poignancy, like when the father takes his two blind infant sons in the horse and carriage to their first school in Rhyl. We are told he doesn't get over it. Having come from a similarly large family myself, in which three of us went into children's homes, and when we were much younger, all the then …

The Last of the Hausmanns

I like doing theatre at the National. Southbank has much more of a cultural event feel about it - particularly at night after one leaves, being able to take a moment to appreciate the illuminated some of St Paul's. The last play I saw there was Hamlet, played by Rory Kinnear, who was astounding. So it was with some expectation that he was also starring in Last of the Haussmanns - although he has to contend with the household name of Julie Walters, who plays the last Haussman of the title. Judith Haussman, or Judy as her grown up son, Nick, (Kinnear) and daughter, Libby, (Helen McCrory) also call her. Nick, a former drug addict, has returned home to the dilapidated art deco family home on Brighton's coast after a lengthy absence. He is gay and wears make-up, yet I could still see, in some scenes, the shadow of his late father. Maybe because this is a comedy - a somewhat dark one - but a comedy nonetheless. He has squandered whatever talent he may have had and, although a former…