broker…

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Hirokazu Kore-eda’s film “Broker”. It’s set in Korea and inspired by the Korean phenomenon of ‘baby boxes’ put out by churches for unwanted newborns (I’d never heard about these ‘baby boxes’ before seeing the film). Korean actor Song Kang-ho plays a volunteer at a local church that has one of these boxes -  but, in reality, he is running a ‘broker’ scam: occasionally he steals a newborn for himself – erasing the church’s CCTV footage that prove a baby was left there – and offers it for sale on the adoption black market, with potential couples lined up by his partner.
Everything falls apart when one of the mothers named, played by Lee-Ji-eun, returns to the church to get her baby back, stumbling onto the operation. Detectives are also on the case… it’s complicated, but I’ll leave it there.
Somewhat surprisingly(?), the film turns out to be something of a ‘feel good’ road movie –
featuring two lovable, flawed men who are apparently romantics at heart.
The Watershed’s blurb describes it as “heartwarming, funny and moving; a film of gentle humanity and great warmth”. However, the Guardian’s critic, Peter Bradshaw, has a slightly different view and sums it up thus (in his 2-star review): “A sudsy road-movie heartwarmer set in Korea… fundamentally silly, with tiringly shallow characterisation and broad streaks of crime-drama intrigue, which only underline the fact that not a single word of it is really believable”!
Actually, while I usually rate Bradshaw’s opinions very highly but, on this occasion, I think his verdict is somewhat harsh. I found the film very watchable and I warmed to the characters (despite their flaws). Yes, a difficult subject and, yes, the plot is somewhat far-fetched and, yes, the two blokes were trying to earn money for crimes which involved black market adoptions of newborn infants… but I enjoyed the lighter moments (and there were several).
I actually thought it was very enjoyable and quite charming… sorry Peter!

citizen ethics in a time of crisis…

While searching through what we laughingly refer to as our filing system (somewhat predictably, I was unable to trace the actual document I was seeking!), I came across a quite brilliant supplement entitled ‘Citizen Ethics in a Time of Crisis’. It was published in 2010, exactly 13 years ago this week, by the Guardian newspaper (in conjunction with Citizens Ethics Network, Barrow Cadbury and the Joseph Rowntree Charitable Trust). In it, a number of prominent thinkers – philosophers, politicians, economists, theologians and writers – considered how the financial and political events of the previous year (ie. the sense of outrage following such matters as the Banking crisis, Bankers’ bonuses and the MPs’ expenses scandal) had given rise to a crisis of ethics… although it’s interesting that the document relates to “Citizen Ethics” (not politicians’ ethics).
I was so taken by the document that I’d sent away for a copy of 60-page bound version.
 
I’ve been re-reading much of it this morning and it makes for fascinating reflection… especially at this time of a ‘Cost of Living Crisis’, an ‘Energy Crisis’, attitudes towards migration (and refugees) – not to mention (but I will) the dishonesty/lack of integrity of some senior politicians; allegations of sexual misconduct against dozens of MPs; allegations of ‘irregular’ PPE funding during the pandemic, Brexit, Climate Crisis… actually, the list goes on and on).
It speaks about how self-interest and calculation have derailed our values.
 
The document’s articles asked some crucial questions (dozens and dozens of them) – that are JUST as relevant today as they were 13 years ago. Here are just a few examples:

• Do we leave it to the market to distribute riches or must the state intervene to ensure more justice than market mechanisms have achieved over the last 25 years?
• We have looked into the abyss where individualism is concerned and we know it won’t do.
• We have lacked a language to respond. How are we to articulate our misgivings? How can we regain our ability to reason ethically?
• It is not a manifesto, it is an argument we have left derelict, a crucial public concern.
• We need a public life with a purpose.
• A promising measure would be to grant all adults a basic income, leaving it to them to decide how to work. This would make part-time work viable for many.
• Shareholder value is shorthand for doing whatever it takes to pump up the stock price.
• What human beings most desire is not material wealth, but social recognition.
• That the economy should meet human needs means we have to focus on needs, not wants.
• London and Westminster, the twin epicentres of power, feel as rotten as Rome under Caligula.
• Politics must come from the people.
• The ethical human being has a need for meaning in order to sustain a sense of aspiration.

How little has changed in the past 13 years… and, sadly, I suspect things won’t change in my lifetime.
Note: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/series/citizen-ethics

february 2023 books…

Diary Of A Void (Emi Yagi): This is something of a surreal novel (understatement!). The protagonist (Shibata) has a mundane office job at a Tokyo paper-core manufacturing company. She is the only woman in a sea of men and she’s been expected to do ‘little things’ outside of her job description: make coffee for everyone during a client visit, replenish the printer ink, tidy up around the office. One fateful day, she finds she can’t handle this anymore and, on the spur of the moment, decides to ‘become pregnant’… and her life immediately changes. She’s no longer expected (or allowed) to undertake the menial tasks; she’s no longer expected to stay late at the office… In fact, Shibata completely ‘takes on’ her fantasy pregnancy (gets a seat on public transport; watches films in newly-acquired spare time; registers for an aerobics class for expectant mothers etc). She doesn’t go overboard in trying to convince people she’s pregnant, she merely allows people to believe what they want to believe and uses the experience to discover what she really wants out of life. The novel takes us through her ‘pregnancy’ from week 5 to week 40 and beyond (with the help of her Baby-N-Me App!). Intriguing, weird, delightful and entertaining.
A Will To Kill (RV Raman): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s next book (on ‘whodunnit?’ theme). Published in 2020, it’s RV Raman first novel in the ‘Harith Athreya Mystery’ series and is set in a remote mansion within the Nilgiri mountains of modern-day eastern India. A rich, aging and wheelchair-bound patriarch, Bhaskar, has invited relatives to his mansion, knowing that family members expect to gain from his death, so he writes two conflicting wills (which of them comes into force will depend on how he dies). Harith Athreya, a ‘seasoned investigator’, has been called in to watch what unfolds… It’s a classic ‘classic locked-room murder mystery’ that could have been written by Agatha Christie or her contemporaries (but the mention of mobile phones and people going jogging acts as a stark reminder that it’s not the 1920-40s!). Because it uses typical plot devices from the ‘golden age of crime fiction’, I was initially quite sceptical… but it’s quite a clever, detailed mystery novel and I ended up quite enjoying it (escapism from our present world?!)… and I liked the Athreya character.
Devotions (Mary Oliver): I love Mary Oliver’s writing. I love the simple, crafted reality of her words and her ‘take’ on the world. This is a collection of her poems spanning more than five decades (the first published in 1963, aged 28, the last in 2015)(she died in 2019, aged 83). Her most recent poems are at the beginning of the book… and her first at the end. I read the collection quite slowly – perhaps three or four pieces each morning – and frequently out loud (to myself!). Most of her poems are self-explanatory but, for some, I would have loved to have had some additional words to set things in context perhaps. For me (and perhaps it’s part of my own ageing process?), I think I loved her later poems best… they seemed to capture the wisdom and experience of old age with beautiful simplicity. It’s a VERY special book that I know I will dip into frequently over the coming years.
The Secret Lives Of Church Ladies (Deesha Philyaw): When I first picked up this book, I thought it would be about ladies who ‘do-the-flowers’ at some quintessential English parish church(!). How wrong can you be?! The author is a young, black American woman and the book is a series of short stories exploring the “raw and tender places where Black women and girls dare to follow their desires, and pursue a momentary reprieve from being good” (as the book’s cover puts it). It’s rather wonderful in its way… beautiful, bruised, intimate, sad and very funny. Surprisingly good and very readable.
The Seven Dials Mystery (Agatha Christie): First published in 1929 (we have 34 Christie books on our bookshelves, but this is one I hadn’t previously read!). There’s always room for a classic crime novel as a form of relief from our challenging world. Predictably, it’s set in a world of high society and privilege and features the exploits of Lady Eileen Brent (a highly-intelligent young woman, affectionately known as ‘Bundle’) and Superintendent Battle. Inevitably, there are some deaths and a complex trail of clues and deceptions. Seven Dials turns out to be a seedy nightclub and gambling den and Bundle manages to get into a secret room there, where she hides in a cupboard and witnesses a meeting of seven people wearing hoods with clock faces (as you do!)… I’ll leave things there *no spoilers*. It’s a typical, ingenious Agatha Christie plot but, for my money, I felt somewhat cheated. Instead of being able to make an educated guess at the ‘solution’ on the basis of clues contained within the novel, Christie holds back information which the reader should have had(?) and, on top of that, I felt that the solution itself was pretty preposterous/far-fetched (but I still enjoyed it!). Hey ho! 

cricket, lovely cricket…

The cricket season starts in two months’ time (13 April)... and, yes, it's that time of the year for my annual moan about the game!
Gloucestershire are my ‘home’ side (just a short bus-ride away and, thanks to my bus pass, free) and, despite the fact that they were relegated to Division Two last year, I’d still like to attend as many of their 2023 home County Championship games as I can… afterall, this is the format most readily associated with Test Cricket.
“You need to become a member then”, I hear you say.
Basic membership at Gloucestershire costs £256. It includes the five home 4-day County games played in Bristol; attendance at all the home T20 Vitality Blast matches; the home one-day cup matches; and two 4-day games at Cheltenham.
The trouble is that I ONLY want to attend the 4-day games in Bristol.
In reality, the County Championship season is reduced to a mere FIVE games in Bristol (I KNOW!)… three of them take place in ‘balmy’ April and May; one in June; and the final one in the middle of September)… July and August are reserved for bish-bosh cricket (and, of course, 'The Hundred' - which takes up most of August, but doesn't happen in Bristol).
Whatever happened to our so-called ‘Summer Game’?

Last year, I wrote to the club secretary and asked if there were any reduced rates for people like me. Well, it seems they HAD considered it, but decided not to bother.
Daily attendance at Championship games is pathetically poor at Bristol – maybe 200-250 mid-week. Perhaps it would make more sense for the Club to waive entry fees altogether for Championship games? 
Controversial? Foolhardy? Revolutionary? Sensible?
Answers on a postcard…
Think I might just concentrate on watching cricket at Bedminster CC for free instead!

 

drive your plow over the bones of the dead…

Moira and I (together with a number of us from my Storysmith bookgroup – the novel of the same name was one of our discussion books) went along to the Bristol Old Vic last night to see international touring company Complicité present a play, directed by Simon McBurney, based on Nobel Prize-winning author Olga Tokarczuk’s novel of the same name.
I’ve previously read the book twice before… so was very keen that the play shouldn’t ruin the book for me. I needn’t have worried!
 
It’s set in a small community on a remote mountainside near the Czech-Polish border. Men from the local hunting club are dying in mysterious circumstances. The principal character, Janina Duszejko (brilliantly played by Amanda Hadingue), is an ex-engineer, environmentalist, devoted astrologer and enthusiastic translator of William Blake… and she has her suspicions (she’s been watching the animals with whom the community shares their isolated, rural home, and believes they are acting strangely)… they couldn’t have committed the murders, could they?
 
Olga Tokarczuk's book is wonderfully weird fable in the form of mystery whodunnit and represents something of a rallying cry for nature (exposing as it sees the hypocrisy of institutional power). Asking such questions as: why is the killing of animals regarded as sport and that of humans murder?
It’s a hugely impressive play. The acting is absolutely excellent throughout and the set design, lighting and music powerfully perfect.
A brilliant evening.
Photo: The image (copyright Bristol Old Vic) actually shows Kathryn Hunter in the role of Janina. She and Hadinque shared the role during the course of the play’s run in Bristol (with Hunter performing 19-31 Jan and Hadinque playing Janina 1-11 Feb).
Footnote: Moira and I usually find ourselves part of the largely silver-haired generation of theatre-goers(!), but we noticed last night that the age range of the audience was significantly younger. Was it something to do with the cost of the tickets perhaps? Last night, tickets were available from £14, whereas they’re often double that... and there was a full house. 

january/february 2023 books…

Tin Man (Sarah Winman): This is the third Winman book I’ve read and I have to admit that I’ve become a huge fan. There are LOTS of reasons I loved this book, namely: a) it was set in Oxford, b) much of the ‘action’ takes place a mere half mile from where we used to live, c) the story takes place at the time when we were actually still living in Oxford, d) the two male characters were pretty well my age… but also e) it is a beautiful story. Ellis, Annie and Michael form a tight friendship and they absolutely adore one another. The novel is about sexual identity and the 1980s Aids epidemic, love, loneliness and loss (heartrending and emotional)… but also about celebrating life and even relinquished dreams. It evoked wonderful memories of our own time as students in the city at that transition stage in our lives… away from home for the first time, full of wonder at finding ourselves in beautiful Oxford, making mistakes but still feeling keen to discover new things, forming new friendships… and still naïve enough, perhaps, to think we could probably change the world. I loved this book.
Pew (Catherine Lacey): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book. It’s a haunting, mysterious fable about a silent stranger of indeterminate age, gender and ethnicity who wakes up on a pew during Sunday morning service in a church in a small American town. The individual – who for want of a better name is called ‘Pew’ by the family who discover him/her – is unwilling to speak, has no memory of who they are or where they came from (although the opening chapter indicates something of a recent life of rough sleeping). It all takes place in a small, sinister, devout town in the Bible-belt American south and book describes the events of the next seven days in seven chapters. The family who finds Pew decides to ‘do the Christian thing’ and take him/her in. The narrow-minded townspeople can’t agree on anything about Pew (Pew isn’t really given any choice in the matter): some think he’s a child, others believe she’s a young woman… and even the colour of their skin is confusing. To complicate matters, the story takes place over a week leading up to an ominous-sounding ‘Forgiveness Festival’. The fact that Pew doesn’t correspond to community’s conservative Christianity principles presents an intolerable challenge to the town’s ‘leaders’. At times, it almost felt like reading ‘1984’ – where society was insisting on compliance to its rules by all members, without question. A sinister, disturbing and somewhat depressing read.
The Trees (Percival Everett): This is another of the shortlisted Booker Prize 2022 books. It’s potent satire of US racism involving the investigation of gruesome murders in Mississippi (more murders, it seems, than the opening frames of a Clint Eastwood ‘Spaghetti Western’?). The book is, somewhat ridiculously, brilliantly funny (and horrific). It’s set in the small town of Money in deep south Mississippi… and begins with the bizarre murders (and brutal disfigurement) of three members of a dysfunctional white family… but, as one critic points out, unit with its morose matriarch Granny C, her son Wheat Bryant, and her nephew, Junior Junior. “this time it’s the white folks’ turn to be rendered in grotesque caricature, and the actions of this feckless clan are played as broad knockabout, almost like a reverse minstrel show”. It transpires that the family had been partly responsible for the death, by lynching, of a 14-year-old black boy in 1955, after being wrongly accused by a white woman (from the family) of making suggestive remarks. The 105-year-old black grandmother character points out that “Less than 1 percent of lynchers were ever convicted of a crime. Only a fraction of those ever served a sentence… No one was interviewed. No suspects were identified. No one was arrested. No one was charged. No one cared”. The latest murders lead to a gruesome series of copy-cat murders around the country and the plot escalates as the lynched dead begin to rise up. The initial crimes are investigated by (among others) two hilariously funny black officers of the Mississippi Bureau of Investigation. It all gets very complicated(!), but the central focus of the book (taking a direct aim at racism and police violence) leaves a lasting, powerful impression.
Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe): This is our Blokes’ Book group’s next book selection. The novel is set in the late 19^th century (first published in 1958) and tells a story of the colonisation of Africa at the height of the ‘scramble’ for African territories by the great European powers. It focusses on Okonkwo, a proud and highly respected Igbo from Umuofia, somewhere near the Lower Niger. Okonkwo's clan are farmers, their complex society a patriarchal, democratic one and where village life has not changed substantially in generations…  but then the English arrive, with the Bible and the gun. The white man is allowed to stay, but he essentially regards the incumbents as a primitive people who need to be educated and brought to faith. The story is set against the background of Ibo culture and the complexities and traditions of Umuofian society. It represents something of an embarrassing, shameful indictment of the colonisation of Africa. It’s a stark, beautifully-written, tragic story and I found it profoundly impressive.
Ink (Alice Broadway): This is our daughter’s first book of the ‘Ink Trilogy’ (published in 2017) and, obviously I’ve previously read it (twice)! I re-read it AGAIN while recently staying at Alice’s – having finished the book I’d taken with me. The words on the book’s cover set up the story: “Imagine a world where your every action, your every deed, is marked on your skin for all to see…”. It’s a powerful, quite brilliant, YA novel (me? biased?) written in the form of a fable which in some ways, perhaps, reflects what’s happening in the world today. It’s about truth, wisdom, loyalty, justice, love… it’s about fears and taboos; it’s about greed and power; it’s about belief and conformity; it’s about integrity and honesty… Our daughter has a real gift for storytelling!

two-tier health...

This summer, the NHS will be celebrating its 75^th birthday.
I was one of the first individuals who benefitted from the service and it’s something I’ve treasured throughout my life.
Increasingly, there’s talk that the Tories are wanting to introduce a privatised version of the NHS (and they’ve been pushing such policies over the past 10 years or more)… making people pay for doctors’ appointments; encouraging people to ‘go private’ in order to jump the lengthy waiting times for operations; making things so bad that they maintain that introducing a privatised system is the only solution to health service needs.
Frankly, I’ve long argued that higher taxation is the only appropriate (and essential) way to ensure that our public services are maintained and developed. By contrast, the Tories constantly talk about cutting taxes.
 
I am hugely fearful that we’re becoming a two-tier society… the haves and the have-nots. The rich who can afford to pay and the poor who can’t. Those families who don’t have sufficient resources to maintain a decent standard of living and who, in these days of cost-of-living and energy crises, are being forced into making desperately difficult decisions (eg. heat or eat). By the same token, if people are forced into making decisions about their (or their family’s) health based on whether or not they can afford to do so, I genuinely fear for the society we would have become.
It doesn’t take much to imagine a situation where a family member is in need of health treatment, but is forced to opt out for reasons of cost… parents who understandably focus on their children (or perhaps elderly relatives) because they feel unable to justify being treated themselves. People with special needs or disabilities struggling because the appropriate services have been ‘run down’ due to lack of finance/political decisions. What are they expected to do if they can’t afford to pay for a replacement?
 
I genuinely fear for what lies ahead if the current political mindset doesn’t change. Yes, of course, our NHS is far from perfect but, frankly, from what I’ve heard of several people’s experiences, neither is the privatised version.
I think that the time has come when we have to take a stand for certain important principles… but time is running out. 

empire of light…

Moira and I went to the Watershed yesterday to see Sam Mendes’ film “Empire of Light”.
Set in 1981, the Empire is a fictional Margate cinema. The key characters are Hilary (Olivia Colman) - depressed, middle-aged and lonely - and Stephen (Micheal Ward) - a young black man facing the daily trauma of a racist England. They both work at the cinema.
Mendes both directed the film and wrote the screenplay. He’s apparently described it as a tribute to his own mother (but I’m not sure if this relates to her mental health or her love of cinema?). The Empire cinema is one of those beautiful Art Deco buildings that has seen better days. Cinema attendance had declined markedly; the Empire used to have four screens, but now uses only two.
It’s a wonderfully acted drama about love, life and films. Colman and Ward are excellent (Colman is outstandingly good) – as is Toby Jones as the dedicated projectionist Norman.
I found it a hugely impressive, heartfelt film (and beautifully shot by Roger Deakins) and yet I came away feeling that there had been just too many storylines (Hilary’s mental health; Stephen’s racist experiences; the sexual demands of the self-important, pompous cinema manager (Colin Firth); the Empire as the venue hosting the regional premier of ‘Chariots of Fire’; England’s widespread racism; the uplifting cinema-going experience; the romance of films; the UK’s struggling film industry).
Nevertheless, I think you should see it – if only for the cinematography and Colman’s wonderful performance. 

january 2023 books…

Small Things Like These (Claire Keegan): Moira gave me a batch of books shortlisted for the Booker Prize 2022 and this is the first one I’ve read. The novel is a mere 114 pages long but is simply stunning… haunting and yet hopeful. It’s set in 1985, just before Christmas, in an Irish town in County Wexford. The story’s main character is Bill Furlong, a coal merchant with a wife and five daughters. As an infant, Furlong and his mother were taken in by a wealthy Protestant woman living just beyond the town. I’m loathe to say too much, but there is a convent at the edge of town and, attached to it, a training school and laundry where young women live and work. There are all kinds of rumours about those in attendance. It’s a beautiful, breath-taking and tender book that will remain with me for a long time. You need to read it.
Treacle Walker (Alan Garner): Another from the Booker Prize 2022 shortlist. I read Garner’s memoir “Where Shall We Run To?” a couple of years ago, but can also recall reading (or at least starting to read) his novel ‘The Moon of Gomrath’ to our daughters when they were young (a long time ago!)… but I don’t think I was ever captivated by his world of myth and magic. ‘Treacle Walker’ is a strange, mystifying, clever book (of just 150 pages). Joe is a child living a somewhat strange existence; his parents are not in evidence. He wears a patch to correct a lazy eye. One day a rag-and-bone man, named Treacle Walker, appears and offers Joe a cup and a stone in exchange for an old pair of pyjamas and a lamb’s shoulder bone. The cup has Joe’s name written upon it. Joe later comes across Thin Amren, a naked, ‘bog-man’ who informs him that his lazy eye is the result of “the glamourie” – a gift that enables him to see time collapsed, to perceive the eternal in the now – and is drawn into the mirror-world of a comic book battles (aided by the visits of the genial Treacle Walker). For me, it felt like a cross between Max Porter’s book ‘Lanny’, Lewis Carroll’s ‘Alice in Wonderland’ and Roald Dahl’s ‘The BFG’! I subsequently read a review by Alex Preston (in The Guardian) in which he described the novel as “seeking to ask how we would experience the world if we were able to step out of the straitjacket of time” and that it was “about quantum physics as well as ancient lore” – which might explain why, at times, I struggled to make sense of it all! Fascinating nevertheless.
The Bullet That Missed (Richard Osman): Osman is one those highly intelligent people who are capable of being simply brilliant at anything they choose to do. This is the third of his ‘The Thursday Murder Club’ mysteries - set in a peaceful retirement village, where “four unlikely friends investigate unsolved murders”. The plot is very clever (even if I did find myself saying “oh, really!” a couple of times out loud) and Osman just has a knack for writing – completely engaging, humorous and with characters who you genuinely get to love (each one of them!)… and the book is ridiculously readable (400 pages, but easily finished within 3 days). Can’t wait for the next one… you just hope the elderly characters can go on living for a fair few more years yet!
Plainsong (Kent Haruf): I’ve selected this as our next Blokes’ Books book. It’s a bit of a cheat really because it’s only 3 months ago that I first read it… but I just felt it would be an excellent book for us to discuss (we’ll see!). It’s set in a small town, Holt in Colarado, and recounts the lives of individuals who share little else than belonging to fractured families – including a schoolteacher struggling to bring up his 8+10 year-old sons alone; a pregnant, homeless schoolgirl and two old bachelor rancher brothers who take her in. Colarado life can be cruel at times. Some people’s actions are appalling but, at the same time, there are some wonderfully gentle, decent individuals. The writing is magical - graceful and almost poetic – with a quiet, understated way I found absolutely captivating. I loved it… and loved re-reading it.
Oh William! (Elizabeth Strout): This novel is another book shortlisted for the Booker Prize 2022 and features successful writer Lucy Barton (apparently Strout has written two previous novels about Lucy Barton) and her relationship with her ex-husband, William. They are both at a late-life crossroads (Lucy is 63 when the book opens). Lucy’s beloved second husband has died a few weeks earlier, and William’s third wife has left him. William asks Lucy to join him on a trip to Maine in search of a long lost half-sister. The book isn’t so much a tale of this search, but about the nature of Lucy and William’s relationship. Indeed, it’s a novel about relationships but also about class; about memories; about feelings and emotions; about ageing; about tolerance and intolerance; and, sometimes, about the quiet forces that hold families together. I very much enjoyed Strout’s writing – intimate, wise… and managing to capture empathy without sentimentality. 

new year reflections: december 2022

I’ve been scribbling New Year Reflections on my blog for a number of years now (as always – just a reminder for ME… because I forget stuff so easily!). This now all seems a little tedious and repetitive, so I’ll keep it much shorter than in the past!
 
WONDERFUL BOOKS:
The Storysmith Book Group (run by our lovely local bookshop) has continued to be brilliant - interesting books, lovely people and good fun too… and I’ve also been part of the ‘Blokes Books’ bookgroup involving some great mates (but it seems to take ages to read each book/organise a meet-up!). I continue to read a LOT of books (70 this year) and here are some of my favourites (in no particular order):
What Just Happened? (Marina Hyde); Walking Back Home (Ricky Ross); The Diary Of A Provincial Lady (EM Delafield); Plainsong (Kent Haruf); Eventide (Kent Haruf); The Help (Kathryn Stockett); Let Me Tell You What I Mean (Joan Didion); The White Album (Joan Didion); Back In The Day (Melvyn Bragg); Being Mortal (Atul Gawande); Saltwater (Jessica Andrews); The Beekeeper Of Aleppo (Christy Lefteri); Bad Apples (Will Dean); I Am I Am I Am and The Marriage Portrait (Maggie O’Farrell); plus I’ve enjoyed reading lots of Donna Leon’s Commissario Brunetti Mysteries.   
 
GREAT FILMS:
I’ve been to the Watershed rather more frequently in the past year (compared with ‘Covid years’). These were among my favourites:
The Worst Person In The World; Moonage Daydream; Belfast; The Banshees Of Inisherin; Brian And Charles; Vortex; Living; The Duke; and Eric Ravilious: Drawn To War.
 
LOVELY LIVE PERFORMANCES/EXHIBITIONS:
We’ve gradually been getting back into the ‘swing’ of going to the theatre, concerts and exhibitions this year – but still a long way to go! Here are a few favourites (I feel sure there are some exhibitions I’ve forgotten):
THEATRE:
Doctor Semmelweis (Old Vic, featuring Felix – had intended to see Belle and Sebastien but ended up having a hospital appointment on the day!).
CONCERTS:
Ricky Ross; Steeleye Span; Ellie Gowers; and Chineke! Orchestra with Evelyn Glennie (all at St George’s).  
Also: Maggie O’Farrell (interview, St Mary Redcliffe).
EXHIBITIONS:
Me, Myself, I: Artists’ Self-Portraits (RWA); Earth: Digging Deep in British Art 1781 – 2022 (RWA); 169^th Annual Open Exhibition (RWA); ‘Practice Assembly’ (Association of Unknown Shores at Saint Stephen’s); and 20^th Century Scottish Art exhibition(?)(Edinburgh City Art Centre?).
 
SPORTING MOMENTS:
Once again, this year has been pretty sparse in terms of watching first-class sport. Again, I didn’t renew my season ticket for the Bristol Bears (rugby), but did manage to get to 3 or 4 matches (thanks to Robin’s generosity – eg. handing me his season ticket while he was away in Australia/New Zealand). I watched three (I think) first-class cricket games at Bristol… plus a couple of games at Bedminster Cricket Club.
 
ART STUFF:
Following our house move and after participating in the last 15 consecutive South Bristol Arts Trail, we’ve now officially retired!  
Another busy year as we try to get back to pre-Covid times, including:
1. I’ve continued to post a drawing or photograph every day as part of my “One Day Like This” blog (now over 3,750 consecutive days – that’s more than 1,875 drawings and 1,875 photographs - since I started in September 2012, more than 10 years ago)!
2. Urban Sketchers, Bristol: I’ve continued to really enjoy this wonderful group (which I joined in March 2018)… it’s a worldwide organisation and, here in Bristol, we meet up every month and regularly get more than 20 people coming along. After the pandemic, it’s been great to be able to meet up with lovely friends again. It’s a real highlight and joy.
5. Blurb book (‘Ten Years Like This’): celebrating 10 years of my daily blog postings.
 
HOLIDAYS/LEISURE:
No proper holidays again this year (for the third year running) – although we did have a couple of lovely 3-day trips to Cardiff (June) and Edinburgh (September).
 
SPIRITUAL LIFE:
We continue to be part of the Community of Saint Stephens in the heart of the city but, rather like the previous couple of years, I’ve been struggling faith-wise. So much so that, in late October, I decided that I would take a ‘sabbatical’ from attending church services. How long this will last, only time will tell (indefinitely?). In the meantime, I’m trying to find a way of reflecting on the spiritual stuff in my life (not always convincingly!) – although I did take part in a thought-provoking, fascinating joint Advent blog with Chris Goan and a couple of others. Meanwhile, I continue to go along to our weekly 7.30am café gatherings for Blokes’ Prayer and attend the fortnightly Resonate sessions on Tuesday evenings.
 
HEALTH:
My health has been pretty good this year… apart from the normal ageing process. My teeth continue to fall out; my left hip keeps telling me it’ll need replacing fairly soon (jealous of the previously-replaced right hip?); I’ve now got two hearing aids (Moira’s delighted!); I take tablets for my atrial fibrillation plus blood thinners and statins; I’ve finally (after 5 years) been discharged from my annual check-ups at Southmead Hospital in connection with lung fibrosis concerns; I take eye drops to deter my glaucoma; and I’ve been attending ‘Leg Club’ (I know!) on a weekly basis for the past few weeks in an effort to sort out my on-going leg ulcer issues (the staff there are brilliant; they sorted me out over a couple of months and I was discharged just before Christmas).
Meanwhile, Moira has been diagnosed as having Parkinson’s Disease (first suspected in May 2021 – so it didn’t come as a particular surprise). She’s generally pretty well (puts up with some shaking, the fact that she’s ‘slowed down’ and that gets tired more quickly) and her medication seems to have been pretty effective.
Having lived with the uncertainties of a pandemic over the past couple of years, we’ve become rather used to living with uncertainty!
 
OTHER STUFF:
We continue to be a no-car household (we gave up the car 5 years ago)… and, during the course of the year, I made a decision to stop driving altogether (I’d previously used a local car club very occasionally) – so buses and trains are now our default modes of transport.
During lockdown, I used to take regular ‘dawn walks’ to and around the harbourside but, strangely (given that we now only live 5 minutes from the harbour), my walking has probably reduced a little over the past 12 months – a combination of laziness and old age perhaps?

I love reflecting back on the things that have happened over the previous twelve months and, each year, it’s a reminder that there WILL be some very special things that they will happen in the coming year – even though, at this moment, I don’t know what 2023 will bring. Clearly, I’m also aware that there will inevitably be some sad stuff too… and perhaps challenges we feel ill-equipped to face? In such times, families and friendships will, once again, see us through.
Over the past couple of years or so, I sense that our activities have become rather less adventurous and our ‘horizons’ set much closer to home. Another case of laziness and old age perhaps?
Moira and I certainly think we made the decision to move house (in August 2021) at exactly the right time for us – the idea of us down-sizing in say 5 years’ time feels hilariously beyond us now! We’ve certainly settled into our new location really well and city centre living suits us very nicely.
For us as a family, it’s been another good year (despite its challenges)… and we continue to count our blessings.
I wish you (and all yours) a very happy, healthy and peaceful 2023. 

november-december 2022 books…

Drawing Conclusions (Donna Leon): I’ve read and enjoyed a lot of Commissario Brunetti mysteries this year, but I have to admit that this was perhaps the least satisfactory to date. An elderly woman is found dead in her Venetian apartment, apparently having suffered a heart attack… although Brunetti suspects there’s more to it. Brunetti discovers that she had been part of an organisation that cares for abused women and that her apartment was a safe-house… and so he begins his search for answers. As usual, I loved the characters (although I could have done with more of his own home life – always entertaining) but, this time, I found the story somewhat pedestrian in nature and the storyline lacking Leon’s usual spark. Disappointing.
The Marriage Portrait (Maggie O’Farrell): I’m a great lover of O’Farrell’s books (Hamnet was probably my favourite book of 2021). The novel is essentially set in the years 1552-61 and tells of the real-life Lucrezia, aged 13, being married off to Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara, as a last-minute substitute for her older sister, who died just before the wedding. She left Florence in 1560, aged 15, to begin her married life but, less than a year later, she would be dead. O’Farrell’s story was inspired by Robert Browning’s famous poem ‘My Last Duchess’ – a monologue which takes us inside the mind of the Duke of Ferrara, as he shows a painting of his former wife (Lucrezia) to a representative of the family of his next bride-to-be. When the novel opens, in 1561, Lucrezia is one year into her marriage, newly arrived at a ‘hunting lodge’ belonging to the duke. She becomes convinced that the vindictive Alfonso intends to kill her because she has failed to fall pregnant with the heir needed to secure his hold on the kingdom. It’s a rather disturbing, unsettling story of a time when ‘ladies’ were forced to follow the whims and dictates of their fathers (and mothers) and husbands. From the very beginning, you KNOW Lucrezia will die within a very short space of time and so the book is a tense re-imagining of the young Duchess’s inevitable demise. For me, not quite in the Hamnet category but, nevertheless, an impressive, beautifully-written, compelling book.  
The Heart Of Things: An Anthology of Memory and Lament (Richard Holloway): Holloway is one of my favourite writers/thinkers. He’s a great lover of poetry (in his own right) and poets and this anthology includes perhaps 50 poems, from both well-known and not-so-well-known poets, plus several of his own. In the book, he uses poetry as a link between various subjects – such as Mourning, Regretting and Forgiving. Although I frequently found his intellect left me desperately trying to play catch-up(!), again and again there were words that made me stop and think. For instance, I loved his reference to these words from Isaiah Berlin: “If you look… for some other goal, the moment will come when the singer stops and then you will only have memories and vain regrets because, instead of listening, you were waiting for something else…” (instead of listening, you were waiting for something else…). Holloway is somewhat older than me (he’s 89), but so many of his recollections resonated with my own, such as: “What I most regret is not paying enough attention to my children when they were young” (in my case, I thought I was paying attention at the time, but now realise I could have given them so much more). A rather lovely book. 
Sleepers Wake: Getting Serious About Climate Change (Nicholas Holtam): This is one of the resources I’ve been using during Advent; it’s the Archbishop of York’s Advent Book 2022. Holtam (he retired as Bishop of Salisbury in 2021) was the Church of England’s ‘lead bishop’ on the environment (and chaired the Environmental Working Group 2014-21). As one might imagine, given that background, the book is well researched and an excellent source for both information and reflection. I found it a challenging read, but a very apt subject for Advent… and, for me (currently struggling on my spiritual journey), one that provided me with a helpful focus leading up to Christmas. He doesn’t pull his punches and acknowledges that there’s been an awful lot of talk about the environment (and targets laid down) but, in practical terms, far too much lip-service and a disappointing lack of results. For example, in 2020, the General Synod of the CofE recognised the climate emergency (a little late in the day, one might think?) and committed the Church to becoming ‘net zero’ by 2030. Holtham was quick to point out that this constituted “an impossibly ambitious target”. It’s an excellent book and provides MUCH food for thought.
Beautiful World Where Are You? (Sally Rooney): I read Rooney’s first two novels in 2019, but it’s taken me a little time to get down to reading her third. I completely acknowledge that she’s a brilliant writer and this book, like the previous two, is full of dazzling (frequently funny, often cutting) dialogue. But, for all its literary delights, I found myself struggling with the book at times – or rather with the four characters (I really didn’t like any of them). The book focusses on the sexual entanglements of a prize-winning (but somewhat burnt-out) writer, Alice, and her old university pal, Eileen, both turning 30… and Simon, a political adviser, and Felix, a warehouse worker. At times, I found myself thinking that the book was simply Rooney’s excuse for expressing her opinions/frustrations/pleasures with the world/life/planet via a series of lengthy (they frequently ran to five pages), high-minded emails between Eileen and Alice – dealing with the sort of things that Rooney might well have simply extracted from her own personal diaries! I frequently found myself thinking “oh, for goodness sake!” (afterall, I’m just an old, intolerant codger!) at the behaviour and attitudes of these up-starts!
So, it’s the end of the year and I’ve just worked out that I’ve read a total of 70 books in 2022 (compared with 64 in 2021, 74 in 2020 and 94 in 2019).

advent conspiracy 28

This from Chris Goan  https://thisfragiletent.com

And so the advent journey comes towards its apotheosis. Thank you to those who have made the journey with us.
 
We have not put up a tree this year...until today.
It will not be a traditional spruce, we will follow a recent tradition of choosing some bare branches from a birch or willow the woods at the bottom of our garden. Emily is always a little disparaging, calling it our 'twig', but I love it for several reasons.
 
I love the fact that we are bringing something inside the house from just outside.
 
I love the fact that no tree has died to make our Christmas celebration more decorative. Birch and willow adapted to the activities of large herbivores, mostly not here any more- the giant elk and the hairy elephants that tore through these parts when the woods were wild. removing a few branches just encourages these trees to coppice.
 
I love that we are doing this on Christmas eve, to mark both the first incarnation (creation) and the second one in the form of Emmanuel.
 
I love too that this is a tree in winter, without leaves, but with tiny buds. It is a tree that reminds me that what is now dark will find the light once more.

Everything was created through him;
    Nothing - not one thing! -
    came into being without him.
What came into existence was Life,
    and the Life was Light to live by.
The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness;
    the darkness couldn’t put it out.
 (John chapter 1, from the Message)
 
A couple of days ago, I tried to describe the first incarnation as the Great Becoming, starting with the great explosion of love that was the Big Bang.
 
Perhaps we might describe this second incarnation as the Great Compassion, in which what was zoomed out was now zoomed right in.
What was distant was now near.
What was heavenly was now human.
 
On this Christmas eve, it is appropriate to allow space for wonder.
 
It is appropriate to speak of this great mystery that we call God.
 
Let's hold those around us whilst we do it.

advent conspiracy 27

Today’s post is from Chris Goan https://thisfragiletent.com

Photo by The Humantra on Pexels.com

I hope you have enjoyed this little ‘conspiracy’ as much as I have. It has been lovely to share this space with different voices whose words took me places I would otherwise not have gone. Thanks so much to Bob, Graham, Steve B, Yvonne and Steve P for your thoughtfulness and companionship.

All of which made me think about how we encounter other voices, other thinking. It occurred to me that our social-media-shaped brains are increasingly inoculated against other views. Rather than freeing our brains for exploration and encounter, the internet seems to have set us up as oppositional avatars, whose purpose is to find the error in the ways of the other, not to listen and learn. Even when I try to NOT do this – to not engage – my brain still falls into familiar comfortable groves, thrilling to the failure of my intellectual/religious/political enemies…

…who are mostly not enemies at all, just people with different perspectives, doing their best to make sense of the complex broken world in which we live.

Advent could easily be a version of the same in which we wait only for what we know, from those who are from our tribe. This would certainly be a comfortable experience, but it seems to me that this would not do justice to the radical disruption that always seems to happen with the coming of the light.

An aurora blankets the Earth beneath a celestial night sky by NASA Johnson is licensed under CC-BY-NC-ND 2.0

I was thinking too about the head/heart thing.

Increasingly I appreciate how an encounter with anything that matters is whole-body. In other words, when I am fully engaged, I feel it in my bones, my gristle, my heart. This is a very different kind of engagement than an intellectual titillation, in which I strengthen my own ego by bolstering my sense of intellectual agency.

In my limited experience, these kinds of embodied encounters are typically about two things:

1. Compassion – when we feel deeply drawn to the heart of another

2. Mysticism – when we sense the undefinable mystery that I will call ‘the divine’

Head and heart. I often find it difficult to go beyond the first, but I am getting better at the second.

advent conspiracy 26

This from Chris Goan  https://thisfragiletent.com
 
Today we celebrate the first Christmas.

We stand with our ancestors and mark the turning point when we turn towards the light. The darkest night has passed and now it is downhill towards spring. New life is coming.
 
I long for it in the same way as a man for his distant lover who avoids looking at her photograph lest the separation become too much to bear...
It is too soon to think about spring. First we must live fully in the season of waiting, firm in the hope that even in midwinter, we can dream of seedlings and spring lambs.
 
I use the word 'Christ' to describe this season unashamedly, not because I am trying to replace all those thousands (tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands?) of years during which humans made ritual around the solstice. I am not trying to redeem or convert. Rather I would stand in the midst of the teaching of Father Richard Rohr, as he encourages us to think about 'the Christ' in a totally different way.

Everything you need to know about the Christ is already written in creation. 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2zz9Do-n14 

But this teaching, emerging from a long line of thinkers starting with St Francis of Assisi and the Scottish 13th century theologian Duns Scotus, does a lot more than co-opt creation as a pretty backdrop for our narrow religious prejudices. Rather it proposes something that I encountered as a profound soul-deep yes.
 
What Rohr describes is the difference between the historical figure of Jesus Christ and the Christ, which is another name for everything. The Christ is the means through which all things have their being, the substance, the molecular, mycelial power behind the particles that make all of the universe. The thing through which all things 'live and move and have their being'.
 
There are other names for the Christ, but this grand-scale way of describing the life force that holds everything together, set against the context of kindness and love, breaks me down into awe (and often tears when it hits home.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FA1adN1rUmQ
 
So, this first Christmas, before the clamour of the more modern one hits us like a train, I am going to think bigger - much bigger. Not because I am dismissive of the stories of Jesus the man, even Jesus the incarnation of the Christ.
 
I am going to remember that I am woven together from the substance of the Christ, and consider how this changes the responsibilities I carry into the world. Above all, it seems that the responsibility is towards love.

The great Becoming
How small we made you.
How constrained by our constraints.
We wore you like a lapel badge,
Pocketed you like a personal passport, then
Raised you at our borders like a flag.
We locked you in the pages of
Our Book, then threw away the key.
 
But how we worshipped you.
How we pointed at you with steeples.
You asked us to follow you, to
Give away our second shirts, but instead
We made one million icons, each one framed in gold.
We swayed and raised our own egos, singing love songs
Not to you, but to idealised versions of ourselves.
 
How is it that still, you love things by becoming them?
How was it that this brown-skinned man with the heart of a woman
Took upon herself another name for everything, so we could
Encounter her in all these beautiful things and bleed with her when she
Lies broken? And just when all seems lost, she whispers still -
See, I am making all things new.
Even you.

advent conspiracy 25

Just below our house is a stand of ancient oak trees. How ancient I have no idea, but the presence of certain plants in the ground cover (particularly now I have cleared back much of the invasive Rhododendrons) indicates that the woods have been there for many hundreds, possibly thousands of years. The grounding effect of large trees on our fickle human existence is one that is well documented, and I have something of a love affair with these oaks.
 
I am perhaps not alone, because they are also home to a number of animals, notably red squirrels, tree creepers, woodpeckers and, most noticeable of all, a large colony of jackdaws. Or perhaps I should call them a 'band' or a 'train' to use their collective noun.
 
Even though they are there all year, for some reason, these beautiful, fiercely intelligent birds have become symbols of winter for me, and therefore, creatures of advent.
 A Roxburgh Jackdaw (Walter Baxter): licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0
These jackdaws are there all the time, but most notably in the winter, where they are ever-present, almost unnoticed in their ubiquiosity as they flap the sky on apparently pointless journeys from branch to branch, squabbling with each other or an occasional gull or buzzard.
 
Sometimes the croaking noise they make reaches a distant peak, as it did when the sparrowhawk lingered to close to their untidy stick-nests in spring, but for the most part, the rasp and clatter of their vocalisation is part of the backdrop of living. Because Jackdaws love buildings (in the past often blocking chimneys with their) often they will rattle over the roof tiles - a disturbance until we became acclimatised.
 
I put out some food once and set up a camera trap to try to capture images of a local pine marten that I knew from glimpses and traces had been scouting out our chickens. all I did was to feed the jackdaws.
https://videopress.com/v/IVIqCLTd?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&preloadContent=metadata&useAverageColor=true
Unsurprisingly, our jackdaws have been featured in some of our art work, including this piece that Michaela made featuring an old poem about the burdens of winter:Jackdaws are often featured in our stories and our folklore, creatures onto which we project meaning in our attempt to make sense of the world. To some they have been holy, perhaps because they often make their homes in the high church steeples. To others they are devil birds, associated with chaos and war. 

Other stories come to us from Greek mythology:

...The story of Princess Arne of the island of Siphnos describes a beautiful young princess who is ruined by her own greed. In this story, Arne is offered a bribe by the legendary King Minos of Crete to betray…

… to punish Arne. The punishment chosen is to turn her into a Jackdaw. In this form, Arne is forevermore condemned to chase after gold; her greed is translated into a Jackdaw’s fascination with shiny objects.

Once more, we do disservice to creatures of the natural world by attributing to them the character traits that are ours, but it seems to me that this bird of winter - this bird of advent - might be a useful reminder of the tautology of this dark season, in which we celebrate the mystery of the incarnation using such exterior excess. Like the jackdaw, we have no need for shiny things, but we chase them anyway.

advent conspiracy 24

Today Graham Peacock talks about joy...

I like sad songs; in fact, I'm prepared to argue on some days that the only good songs are sad songs.
I can't remember when I first heard this song, but it had an instant impression on me: many Christmas songs are full on sleigh bells and schmaltz- only a few like this one hint at the sadness that lurks inside all of us, however much we try and hide it or seek refuge in 'Christmas Magic' (sic). The first verse, in particular, seems so close to home and present experience. 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YATi-BzC-

It's a hopeful atheist/agnostic song, of that stance that is not harsh or searing about faith, but rather sorrowing that it is not there and still seeing that there's something...something... that might just give hope. In that sense I think it is an Advent song.
 
The song invariably makes me cry, but this time when I listened to it, this verse hit me: 
All that they destroy
And in their face we throw our
Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy
 
Faced with challenge, evil or nastiness, most of us- especially when social media is so accessible and can accommodate the darkest parts of our ego- attack back even harder. Those of us who consider ourselves informed, caring and on the side of the oppressed, despairing that things will ever change and sometimes overwhelmed with the reality of it all are often tempted to hit back with snark or mirthless condemnation. I know I have done. I know I do.
 
I don't think anyone is changed by our angry virtue, but I think they have a chance of change if they experience our joy. In any case I think that joy is one of the greatest acts of resistance.
 
As ever, Mary Oliver puts it better than me:
Don’t Hesitate
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case.
Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
From Devotions (Penguin Press, 2017).

advent conspiracy 23

This from Bob Fraser…

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com
A few years ago a friend invited me to go with him to see one of the Hobbit films. Lots of us love myths, legends, and stories of adventure. Especially epic stories of adventure, where there’s a struggle going on between good and evil, darkness and light. They hold a strange fascination for many of us.
 
We duly met at the cinema only to find that the schedule had been changed and it was not on that afternoon. And it wasn’t on anywhere else within striking distance that afternoon. Once we’d got over that disappointment, his ‘Plan B’ suggestion was to go ten-pin bowling. Now I’ve only played occasionally since school days and probably the last time I went was ten years previously as part of an office Christmas party. So I was a little rusty to say the least. However, amongst the many rounds where I didn’t get a strike at all, I had one when I got four strikes in a row! I knew three in a row and you were a ‘turkey’, but never before had I heard of anyone getting four. I’d never even had three strikes! So I was unprepared for the declaration that came up on the screen that I was a ‘four-bagger’. To me at least it was a story of epic proportions, albeit a short one. Me – a four-bagger!
 
All of this made me think about whether there is some sort of epic struggle going on in our lives and whether we have a battle on our hands against an unseen enemy who is determined to sideline us and cause us to lose heart. Is the story of our individual lives set within a much bigger epic story, which is still unfolding? As in most epic adventures, darkness holds both fear and fascination. Hidden dangers lurk everywhere. We go through a door out of curiosity and before you know it the door slams behind us and there’s no handle on the inside. We have no alternative but to go further and risk getting totally lost in unfamiliar surroundings. We can lose hope. What if we can’t find our way back?
 
Most of us have some consciousness of good and evil. We’re well aware of the many cruel things that happen to innocent people, and of the need for justice and truth. We’re utterly appalled at what’s happening in Ukraine. We’re desperately uncomfortable with the number of people living as refugees, trying to make sense of a life they never imagined they would be experiencing. We’re angry about the number of people living in poverty and the broken health and social welfare system in the UK.
 
When hiding in a dark cave seems better than facing the light of reality; when dwelling on our failures seems easier than getting up again and moving forward, when Advent darkness seems to overwhelm the light of the Christmas story, what do we hold on to that will give us courage and strength, and hope for the future? 

I wrote a song to capture something of that epic struggle and it’s helped me to embrace a bigger story where good triumphs over evil, where I don’t lose heart and give up. Where I find my way home again, and where love wins in the end.
 
There’s a video of the song on YouTube
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4MgzezwzFQ
 
Or audio on Bandcamp –
Holding onto Love | Bob Fraser (12 Tracks) | Bob Fraser (bandcamp.com)

Most of us can see that some things seem more associated with darkness than light. Yet we all have a strange fascination with the darkness, and can easily get drawn into it if we are not careful.