14 June 2009
01 June 2009
09 September 2008
So, what sort of music do you like?
If you were to stop me in the street (I hope you won't: I'm very busy) and ask, "So, what sort of music do you like?", I would probably come back with a triumvirate of Bob Dylan, The Beatles and Eric Clapton. But the more I think about this list, the less satisfying it feels. To begin with, although I will readily confess that I spend more time listening to Bob Dylan than any other artist, I would hate you to think that I was a Bob Dylan Fan. A Bob Dylan Fan is someone who can tell you where and when Bob wrote and recorded each of his songs, why this version is better than that, and what shirt he was wearing at the time. I don't know any of that stuff. I just like the music.
Secondly, while I know a lot of Beatles songs, it is only relatively recently that I have listened to any Beatles albums. And that's an eye-opener, I can tell you. Of course, there are the Ringo sing-alongs with their deliberately limited vocal range to suit his limited voice. (So why do you let the drummer sing, for goodness sake?) And then there is George's deep and meaningless preachy eastern stuff. (I have never forgiven him for writing 'Taxman'. Poor George! He's so rich that the wicked system parts him from loads of his hard-earned money - while leaving him one of the richest people ever to have walked the face of the earth - before allowing him to go on and write another song about how materialistic everyone else is.)
And then you have Paul's kitchy, sentimental tin-pan alley side and John's occasional sheer nastiness ('Run For Your Life', anyone? Because he's rather see you dead, little girl, than to see you with another man. He's jealous, you see, little girl, and if he catches you, it's the end. Little girl. Nice thought, John!)
As I say, listening to Beatles albums is an eye-opener (ear-opener?).
And that leaves Eric Clapton. I say I like Eric Clapton because I want you to know that I play guitar and if I could play like Eric, I would. But I'm blowed if I can remember the last time I listened to an Eric Clapton album. (I could say the same about Jimi Hendrix.) And when I listen to any of the Clapton compilations, I'm always surprised at how much there is that I don't like. (And that includes Cream, I'm afraid.)
Which means I need a better answer to the question, "So, what sort of music do you like?" And, having thought about it, I think the answer goes something like this:
I like people who write songs, play musical instruments and sing in an interesting and engaging way. That's my new triumvirate.
06 June 2007
John Wesley, Donald Sinden, Avenue Q and Double Gloucester cheese...
So, it was school half-term holidays and we had a weekend in London and a few days at our home in Gloucester.
The trip to London was great, even though DW was there for work. Still, we took in a show: Avenue Q – not the most mature choice, I grant you, but, hey!, great fun. I spent the first 20 minutes grinning at the stage like a simpleton. Got a sharp reminder that we were in London when we ordered our half-time drinks. “Two gin & tonics, please.” “Singles or doubles?” We’re here to have fun so we order doubles. “That will be £13.50, please, sir.” £13.50! (That's $27!) You wouldn’t pay that for a tray-full of drinks round our way, I can tell you!
Our other London moment: we’re walking around theatreland and see an old bloke pressing the intercom on the door to get in to some building or other: “Hello? Is there somebody there?” I recognise the voice, but before I can put a name to it, he says to the unseen doorkeeper, “It’s Donald Sinden…” And it was. Sorry to be impressed, but I am.
I have Saturday to myself, as DW is working until 5:00pm, so I do something I would only do on my own: I visit the Museum of Methodism. Yes, there is one and it’s in City Road in the crypt of the chapel that John Wesley built in 1778 as his London base. You also get to walk around the house where he spent the last years of his life and where he died. Highlights include standing in the pulpit from which John and Charles preached, seeing John’s gown (he was 5’ 4” tall, you know) and Charles’s organ (Oooh! No, Matron!). I stand at John’s grave (and later buy a postcard of it. Is that weird?) His mother is buried in the Dissenters’ graveyard over the road and lies alongside other non-conformists: Daniel Defoe, John Bunyan and William Blake.
I also got to use the oldest working toilets in London: they bear the illustrious Crapper name on the bowl and cistern. And they do work.
Saturday evening we had dinner with friends and a splendid time was had.
On Sunday morning, as we didn’t have to go to church we did something quasi-religious: we went to the V&A to see the Kylie exhibition. She’s tiny, you know, Kylie. Saw her gold hotpants and the Showgirls tour costumes and that white cat suit thing from that video. Bought another postcard.
Spent the rest of the week (it was school half-term holidays, you know) in Gloucester, my home town. Visited St Mary-de-Crypt and stood in the pulpit from which George Whitefield preached. (He was a contemporary of the Wesleys and very influential on John, and had the greater impact in his day. And he was born and brought up in Gloucester. His parents had the Old Bell Inn in Southgate Street. He’s not much celebrated in Gloucester, sadly.)
Also did the Cathedral, obviously, including an exhibition about the extraordinary east window; had a cream tea in Bourton-on-the-water and visited the farm where Diana Smart makes the Double Gloucester cheeses that they roll down Cooper’s Hill. She also makes Single Gloucester – one of only four places that has the (cheese-making equivalent of) appellation controlee for Single Gloucester.
You see, we know how to have fun!
Deep joy,
Stratocastermagic
The trip to London was great, even though DW was there for work. Still, we took in a show: Avenue Q – not the most mature choice, I grant you, but, hey!, great fun. I spent the first 20 minutes grinning at the stage like a simpleton. Got a sharp reminder that we were in London when we ordered our half-time drinks. “Two gin & tonics, please.” “Singles or doubles?” We’re here to have fun so we order doubles. “That will be £13.50, please, sir.” £13.50! (That's $27!) You wouldn’t pay that for a tray-full of drinks round our way, I can tell you!
Our other London moment: we’re walking around theatreland and see an old bloke pressing the intercom on the door to get in to some building or other: “Hello? Is there somebody there?” I recognise the voice, but before I can put a name to it, he says to the unseen doorkeeper, “It’s Donald Sinden…” And it was. Sorry to be impressed, but I am.
I have Saturday to myself, as DW is working until 5:00pm, so I do something I would only do on my own: I visit the Museum of Methodism. Yes, there is one and it’s in City Road in the crypt of the chapel that John Wesley built in 1778 as his London base. You also get to walk around the house where he spent the last years of his life and where he died. Highlights include standing in the pulpit from which John and Charles preached, seeing John’s gown (he was 5’ 4” tall, you know) and Charles’s organ (Oooh! No, Matron!). I stand at John’s grave (and later buy a postcard of it. Is that weird?) His mother is buried in the Dissenters’ graveyard over the road and lies alongside other non-conformists: Daniel Defoe, John Bunyan and William Blake.
I also got to use the oldest working toilets in London: they bear the illustrious Crapper name on the bowl and cistern. And they do work.
Saturday evening we had dinner with friends and a splendid time was had.
On Sunday morning, as we didn’t have to go to church we did something quasi-religious: we went to the V&A to see the Kylie exhibition. She’s tiny, you know, Kylie. Saw her gold hotpants and the Showgirls tour costumes and that white cat suit thing from that video. Bought another postcard.
Spent the rest of the week (it was school half-term holidays, you know) in Gloucester, my home town. Visited St Mary-de-Crypt and stood in the pulpit from which George Whitefield preached. (He was a contemporary of the Wesleys and very influential on John, and had the greater impact in his day. And he was born and brought up in Gloucester. His parents had the Old Bell Inn in Southgate Street. He’s not much celebrated in Gloucester, sadly.)
Also did the Cathedral, obviously, including an exhibition about the extraordinary east window; had a cream tea in Bourton-on-the-water and visited the farm where Diana Smart makes the Double Gloucester cheeses that they roll down Cooper’s Hill. She also makes Single Gloucester – one of only four places that has the (cheese-making equivalent of) appellation controlee for Single Gloucester.
You see, we know how to have fun!
Deep joy,
Stratocastermagic
09 December 2006
02 October 2006
09 September 2006
24 August 2006
30 June 2006
18 May 2006
16 May 2006
06 May 2006
27 April 2006
08 April 2006
21 January 2006
11 January 2006
09 November 2005
28 October 2005
Why Do I Write?
Why do I want to write? Writing is what makes me who I am. Or at least, I am most concretely myself in my writing. As someone more at home in the interior world of ideas than the exterior world of people and things – what most people call, the ‘real’ world - it is in writing that my true self emerges and I am the better able to exist in that ‘real’ world. Of course, there are glimpses of my real self in my family life, in conversation with friends, and in my work outside of writing. But in writing, I am in control of what it is that comes out and feel most truly myself.
My writing self has time to think and shape the ‘me’ that emerges in a way that the speaking self never can. The speaking ‘me’ is often disappointed by the ‘me’ that is projected into that outer space, the world. But the writing ‘me’ can look at what emerges and see a greater correspondence with the thinking ‘me’, the ‘me’ that I most readily recognise as myself.
I want to write to prove that I exist and that I am good! Of course, I’d like to sell my writing, to earn just enough to buy that farm-house in the Cotswolds – the one with the Roman villa in the garden. But right now, I’d settle for a magazine article or two and enough money to pay for the Writing Course.
My writing self has time to think and shape the ‘me’ that emerges in a way that the speaking self never can. The speaking ‘me’ is often disappointed by the ‘me’ that is projected into that outer space, the world. But the writing ‘me’ can look at what emerges and see a greater correspondence with the thinking ‘me’, the ‘me’ that I most readily recognise as myself.
I want to write to prove that I exist and that I am good! Of course, I’d like to sell my writing, to earn just enough to buy that farm-house in the Cotswolds – the one with the Roman villa in the garden. But right now, I’d settle for a magazine article or two and enough money to pay for the Writing Course.
27 October 2005
"Sharpening The Saw"
Writing is "sharpening the saw".
The plan is to use Fridays as my primary writing day - when Rose is at work. From September, I will also probably have a regular appointment on Friday mornings, and I have promised that I will have finished my week's work so that Saturdays can be free.
I'm not sure about using the bedroom (where I am now): the wireless internet connection is unreliable and I don't find this chair and table comfortable.
Alternatives include my study or the dining room (if I can have the laptop - maybe I'll earn enough as a writer to buy myself a laptop!) or going somewhere else entirely - like Warrington, taking my handheld and keyboard, which is what I am using to write this.
What do I need to write? A computer - desktop, laptop or handheld; the writer's course binder (Do I take this with me to Warrington? Or just the current module?). Do I need a notebook and pen? (Fountain pen would be nice.) Pencil.
The plan is to use Fridays as my primary writing day - when Rose is at work. From September, I will also probably have a regular appointment on Friday mornings, and I have promised that I will have finished my week's work so that Saturdays can be free.
I'm not sure about using the bedroom (where I am now): the wireless internet connection is unreliable and I don't find this chair and table comfortable.
Alternatives include my study or the dining room (if I can have the laptop - maybe I'll earn enough as a writer to buy myself a laptop!) or going somewhere else entirely - like Warrington, taking my handheld and keyboard, which is what I am using to write this.
What do I need to write? A computer - desktop, laptop or handheld; the writer's course binder (Do I take this with me to Warrington? Or just the current module?). Do I need a notebook and pen? (Fountain pen would be nice.) Pencil.
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