that they may face the rising sun…

I went along to the Watershed again this afternoon to watch Pat Collins’ film “That They May Face The Rising Sun”… based on John McGahern’s final novel (which I’ve yet to read – but I HAVE read and loved four of McGahern’s other books).
The film captures a year in the life of a rural, lakeside community in late 1970s Ireland.
Joe (Barry Ward) and Kate (Anna Bederke) have returned from London to live and work in a small, close-knit community in a remote lakeside setting in rural Ireland, close to where Joe grew up. He’s a writer and she’s an artist who retains part ownership of a London gallery. Can the harsh, simple farming life (shoehorned into their writer/artist lives) sustain them?
The film rather beautifully explores their lives (and those of their neighbours) and the rituals of work, play, community bonds and the passing seasons.
The Irish scenery is stunning (of course) and I loved the accompanying simple piano music/sounds of nature. The additional characters – Lalor Roddy (Patrick), Sean McGinley (Johnny), Phillip Dolan (Jamesie), Ruth McCabe (Mary), John Olohan (The Shah) and Brandan Conroy (Bill) are all rather wonderfully played.
I very much enjoyed the film – I thought the pace was beautifully apt… and somewhat similar to my experiences of reading McGahern’s impressive books.

polling day: ID required (and other political devices)...

I’m currently reading Ferdinand Mount’s book “Big Caesars and Little Caesars” (“how they rise and fall – from Julius Caesar to Boris Johnson”). As a former editor of ‘The Spectator’ and head of Margaret Thatcher’s think-tank, rest assured that he’s no liberal-lefty!!
It’s a fascinating book and well worth reading if you are ‘politically inclined’(!)…
But, with local elections taking place tomorrow (2 May), I thought his comments about the need for the electorate to produce photographic ID at the polling stations in order to cast their votes were timely reminders of one of the ways we’re being manipulated by the Conservative government - just one of five measures* he highlights (apologies for quoting at such length, but I think it’s important):
“Voter suppression:  
But of course in order to exercise power in this exuberant style, the Tories have to acquire power and hang on to it. The first priority is to win the upcoming general election, and prepare for the election after that. What is the best method of improving your chances? First, to adjust the boundaries of the constituencies to maximise the impact of your votes... Then, not only to encourage your voters to turn out by every possible means, but also to discourage the potential voters for the other side, either by preventing them from registering on the electoral roll or to make it difficult for them to cast their votes – so-called ‘voter suppression’. Thirdly, most flagrantly, by stuffing the ballot boxes with votes by people who don’t exist or have already voted or are not qualified to vote…
British general elections… have been remarkably free and fair for a long time – ever since voter personation and other dodges were finally eliminated in Northern Ireland. There has been no substantial evidence of fraud at any recent general elections. Yet the Tories’ 2019 election manifesto included this pledge: ‘We will protect the integrity of our democracy by introducing voter identification to vote at polling stations, stopping postal vote harvesting and measures to prevent any foreign interference with elections’.
All this, now contained in the Elections Act, is an egregious solution to a non-existent problem. It can have one purpose only: to suppress the votes of the poorer and less organised voters who are less likely to possess photo ID. When voter ID was made mandatory in Northern Ireland in 2002, the number of voters on the new register dropped by 120,000 or 10 per cent. This suspicion is confirmed by a second pledge, to make it easier for British expats to vote in parliamentary elections, expiates being plausibly thought far more likely to vote Tory, just as the worst off are more likely to vote Labour. Thus one set of voters whose fortunes do not depend on the actions of the UK is to be encouraged, while a far larger number of voters who do depend – often desperately – on what the British government does or does not do for them is to be discouraged. It is hard to imagine a more flagrant strategy to rig the result. It may be that as holding voter ID becomes more universal over the years, the adverse effect will diminish. But what is clear is that the MOTIVE behind the Elections Bill is to secure party advantage under the cloak of fairness.”
Believe me, I COULD have quoted far more extensively on this and other related subjects (eg. Trump and Johnson don’t emerge in Mount’s book in anything like a ‘good light’!).
Be afraid. Be very afraid!
PS: * The other measures Mount refers to (arising out of the Conservative manifesto for the  2019 general election) relate to the following: ‘Dissolving Parliament’; ‘Sacking MPs’; ‘Sacking civil servants’ and ‘Taming the judges’.

cricket: our summer game…

Yesterday, I went along to watch the final day of the county championship game between Gloucestershire and Middlesex at Bristol (just a 75 bus ride away from home).
It was very good to back watching some cricket again (my first game of the season) but, in truth, it felt a somewhat dispiriting game in so many ways.
Although the odds were clearly on the game ending in a draw, I’d actually thought there was a chance of an exciting finish… say with Gloucestershire chasing 250 runs to win in the afternoon?
Sadly, both captains seemed intent on NOT LOSING rather than pressing for a victory. Gloucestershire (admittedly minus one of their bowlers due to injury) set defensive fields all morning and Middlesex batted on far too long into the afternoon (why on earth didn’t they declare at lunchtime, some 280 runs ahead?). In the end, they left Gloucestershire to score 331 runs to win in 58 overs (5.7 runs/over)… Gloucestershire opted to simply see out the game and finished on 127-3.
Clearly, the cricket authorities see the one-day, 20Twenty and The Hundred games as their main opportunities to make money… which means that the traditional county championship games are horse-shoed into the start and end of the cricket season – which essentially means playing the bulk of championship games in April, May and September – reserving most of June, July and August for the money-spinning games.
Yesterday’s game at Bristol highlighted the stark reality (and perhaps the eventual demise?) of the 4-day game… there were fewer than 100 spectators (it might even have been as little as 50!?)… all wrapped in their waterproofs, fleeces, woolly hats (and even gloves)!
Whatsmore, so far this season, the county championship (in part because it’s being played during the worst weather months) has hardly set the sporting world on fire (understatement!). Out of the 34 games played in the two Divisions, 27 of them have resulted in draws!
Unless changes are made, I can’t see the county championship surviving another 10 years (at most!?).
It might just ‘see me out’, but it’ll mark the sad end of an era… and cricket will never be the same again.
PS: But, hey, on a positive note, I was delighted that I only had to pay £10 for my ticket (I think it’s usually £18-20)… Was this because it was the final day’s play? Whatever the reason, I commend Gloucestershire for the gesture.
Photograph: Your cricket correspondent captured the moment when Gloucestershire started their second innings: Dent c Davies b Helm 0!

march-april 2024 books…

The Farmer’s Wife (Helen Rebanks): I’ve previously read James Rebanks’ brilliant two books about his family’s lives, over several generations, as sheep farmers in the fells of the Lake District. This is his wife’s ‘take’ on their farming life… about the love and pride for the land they farm; for her family (they have four young children); for their way of life and all its trials, tribulations, frustrations and joys. She writes quite beautifully and honestly about the difficulties of keeping things going despite the lack of money, but also about the endless improvisation and determination to achieve their dreams. She’s a full-time mother (with an art degree) dealing with all the day-to-day responsibilities of the school run and school liaison, caring for the domestic animals, cooking, farm administration (including all the form-filling, licences etc) and much, much more. There’s a section in the book in which she describes when the family were effectively ‘cut off’ for several days (no electricity, internet etc) during heavy snowstorms and their resourceful in staying safe/warm and nourished – whilst, at the same time, ensuring that their animals are tracked down and fed – a sobering reminder of what a hard life farming can be. Although I only briefly thumbed through them, the book also contains a whole host of recipes! A very impressive, powerful and frequently quite moving book.
Piccadily Jim (PG Wodehouse): I’m a great admirer of Wodehouse’s writing but must admit that I found this novel (first published in 1917) someone disappointing. The story combines English and American settings and characters (I never find his ‘take’ on Americans anything like as amusing as his descriptions of the English upper classes) and the plot is farcically complicated and, to my mind, unconvincing. It involves impersonations, spies, explosives and kidnapping plans that go awry. As you would imagine with Wodehouse, it’s frequently funny… but also ridiculously far-fetched. Not one of my favourites.
Not A River (Selva Almada): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s next book (theme: a book from this year’s International Booker Prize Longlist). This from the cover’s blurb: “Three men go out fishing, returning to a favourite spot on a river in Argentina, despite their memories of a terrible accident there years earlier. As a long, sultry day passes, they drink and cook and talk and dance, and try to overcome the ghosts of their past. But they are outsiders, and this intimate, peculiar moment also puts them at odds with the inhabitants of this watery universe, both human and otherwise. The forest presses close, and violence seems inevitable, but can another tragedy be avoided?”. In some ways the men’s pursuit of a massive ray reminded me of Hemingway’s “The Old Man And The Sea” – the book has a similar foreboding atmosphere and sense of anxiety; here, we’re slowly shown glimpses back to the previous tragedy, one that has left its disturbing scars. The novel’s pace is somewhat leisurely (it’s certainly not relaxed!), but its setting of the calm river and the ominous woods simply reinforces the tension. I found it a very impressive book.
The Memoirs Of Sherlock Holmes (Arthur Conan Doyle): I’m no great admirer of Sherlock Holmes’ books, and certainly haven’t read one for some 20 years or more (and actually find the character consistently annoying!), but found this on the shelf of the Oxfam bookshop… This book, first published in 1950, consists of eleven ‘exciting adventures’ (according to the book’s cover!). It’s all very dated, predictable in style and general content (and, at times, somewhat ridiculous), but it makes for easy reading.
Madness Is Better Than Defeat (Ned Beauman): This is our next Blokes’ Bookgroup book. I take an awful lot of pleasure from reading but, after completing just the first 100 pages of this book (it’s 408 pages long), I decided that I’d ‘had enough’ and gave up (over the past 10 years or so, there is just ONE book I didn’t finish… so this will be the second!). The story relates to two rival expeditions, in 1938, setting off for a lost Mayan temple in the jungles of Honduras – one intending to shoot a ‘screwball comedy’ on location there… and the other to disassemble the temple and ship it back to New York. By all accounts, Bauman is a successful and popular writer (reviewers’ quotes on the book’s cover talk about him being ‘clever’, ‘seriously funny’ and ‘almost recklessly gifted’) but, frankly, I’m not a fan. I don’t doubt that I’ve probably missed out on lots of clever storylines and colourful characters, but my spirits have been raised merely by taking the decision to stop reading the book! Due to my impending hip operation, I’ll be unable to attend our bookgroup’s review evening of the novel – which is probably just as well!

february-march 2024 books…

Religion For Atheists (Alain de Botton): This might seem a rather strange additional book to help me in my Lenten reflections, but it was actually referred to in 2012 by Rowan Williams in one his Easter sermons during his time as Archbishop of Canterbury. I’d previously read a couple of de Botton’s books and he’s clearly a clever bloke and an excellent writer and this book didn’t disappoint. Don’t get me wrong – I certainly don’t consider myself to be an atheist (more of a struggle Christian-cum-occasional-agnostic!?). But, in fact, I found the book far more thought-provoking and helpful than a lot of previous books I’ve used during Lents over recent years. He starts by pointing out that secular society has been “unfairly impoverished by the loss of an array and practices associated with various religions”, such as: music, buildings, prayers, rituals, feasts, shrines, pilgrimages, communal meals and illuminated manuscripts of the faiths – primarily, for the purposes of the book, Christianity, Judaism and Buddhism. I found it quite a stimulating, thought-provoking read (even the Church Times apparently found it “surprisingly illuminating”!).
Antarctica (Claire Keegan): These days, I’m a glutton for Keegan’s short stories. Quiet, unfolding, hauntingly beautiful tales (first published in 1999) set in Ireland, USA or Britain. The subject matters vary and don’t always make comfortable reading - murders, betrayals, orphaned children, madness, suicides are just some of the themes in between… with offbeat characters, convincing dialogue, rituals, secrets, seasons and a strong sense of place. I’ve bought a number of her books over recent weeks/months and this (her first collection of short stories) and this is the last one from my bedside table. I’m going to miss my regular Keegan reading sessions… and think I might need to keep dipping into to some of them on a regular basis.
Before The Coffee Gets Cold (Toshikazu Kawaguchi): I’ve read a number of Japanese novels over the past couple of years and they’ve all had a certain ‘quirkiness’. This one was no exception. In a small back alley in Tokyo, there is a cafe which has been serving carefully brewed coffee for more than one hundred years. But this coffee shop offers its customers a unique experience: the chance to travel back in time. We meet four visitors, each of whom is hoping to make use of the cafe's time-travelling offer, in order to: confront the man who left them, receive a letter from their husband whose memory has been taken by early onset Alzheimer's, see their sister one last time, and meet the daughter they never got the chance to know. But the journey into the past does not come without risks: customers must sit in a particular seat, they cannot leave the cafe, and finally, they must return to the present before the coffee gets cold… It’s a rather beautiful, moving story and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.
Their Eyes Were Watching God (Zora Neale Hurston): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1937). Zadie Smith has described it as “one of the very greatest American novels of the twentieth century”. My book’s cover summarises the story pretty well: “When, at 16, Janie is caught kissing shiftless Johnny Taylor, her grandmother swiftly marries her off to an old man with 60 acres. Janie endures two stifling marriages before she finally meets the man of her dreams – who offers not diamonds, but a packet of flowering seeds”. It’s an impressive book, written by a remarkable writer who was born in Alabama at the end of c19th. I found the African-American Vernacular English dialect hard to read (I’m glad I persevered!), but it’s an impressive, powerful, feminist book about a young black girl finding her way into womanhood in the rural, black South. I enjoyed it.
Somewhere Towards The End (Diana Athill): I really like Athill’s writing. I think this is the fifth book of hers I’ve read (first published in 2008, she died in 2019, aged 101) and this one is ‘what it says on the tin’, as it were – a reflection, written in old age, of things she’s experienced through her lifetime. I like her wisdom, fearlessness and her humour… the same sort of feeling I get from reading Jan Morris’s books, for example. I found it a wonderfully optimistic book – marvelling, as she does, at the fact that she only became a writer in her 70s – covering a wide range of topics, including: love; sex; never having been a mother; not giving up driving (despite realising she should); religion (she had no faith); the prospect of death; discovering new enjoyments/skills in old age; non-fiction books; climate change; laziness; oversights… and much more. Rather lovely. 

continuing faith journeying…

This will be something of a rambling blogpost (understatement!)… some reflections, frustrations and acknowledgements.
Having faith. Obviously, the key is in the word ‘faith’. The trouble is I’m lacking it and I’m struggling in something of a continuing spiritual wilderness.
In theory, I remain part of the Community of Saint Stephens in the heart of the city but I’m struggling faith-wise (which has been the case now for several years). So much so that, for the past 18 months or so, I’ve taken a ‘sabbatical’ from attending church services (apart from attending the Midnight Mass at Saint Stephen’s on Christmas Eve). How long this will continue, only time will tell (indefinitely perhaps?).
In the meantime, I’m still trying to find a way of reflecting on the spiritual stuff in my life (albeit far from convincingly!). I continue to go along to our weekly 7.30am café gatherings for Blokes’ Prayer - which has effectively become my ‘church’.
What DO I believe these days?
I was confirmed in the Anglican Church over 50 years ago. I’ve been a Christian ever since but throughout this time, like so many people, my own spiritual journey has been a long and winding road - often fruitful and compelling, but frequently bumpy or feeling as if I’m in a cul-de-sac. At present, I feel as if I’ve come to yet another crossroad on the journey.
 
I still have a faith of sorts… I still believe in God (but maybe ‘my’ God is different to other people’s understanding of the word?). I believe that Jesus did live and was crucified (but I struggle with the virgin birth and even the resurrection)(I know!). I believe that the New Testament stories in the Bible are essentially true (or in part happened?), but I get very frustrated by many of the interpretations (and added details) that have accrued between when the events took place and when they were eventually written down (the same applies to the ‘actual’ words used by Jesus and his disciples etc… and, for instance, exactly what Jesus was thinking when he was in the Garden of Gethsemane or during his 40 days in the wilderness).
Because of these frustrations, I’ve almost stopped reading the Bible (for instance, a lot of Paul’s New Testament letters – or at least some of the interpretations I’ve heard given them in various sermons I’ve listened to – just make me angry!). To take just one example, I followed one of ‘our’ church services online (about a year ago). The Bible text included the following: “For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either” and “Now if there is no resurrection, what will those do who are baptized for the dead? If the dead are not raised at all, why are people baptized for them?” - and this message was duly endorsed/repeated in the morning’s talk/sermon. It left me shouting at my laptop screen!
These days (perhaps unfairly, I know), I find other people’s enthusiastic ‘certainties’ when it comes to faith incredibly off-putting (it leaves me feeling both annoyed and exasperated). I don’t believe in an ‘afterlife’ but, somehow, feel that we need to build a ‘heaven’ here on earth (ok, that probably sounds a bit ridiculous to most of you). I can’t really justify or rationalise this, but I do have a sense that our spirits ‘live on’ (again, you’ll probably think I’ve lost my marbles).      
It’s interesting (well, for me at least!) to read some of my blogpost ‘spiritual reflections’ on faith over the years – some dating back 15 years (although my ‘doubts’ go back much further than that).
I’ve been struggling for a long, long time!
I posted the following on my blog in February 2022:
So, on this basis, can I REALLY call myself a Christian? Well, no doubt there will be many who would answer “no” but, interestingly, the BBC commissioned a survey in 2017 (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-39153121) and found that a quarter of people who describe themselves as Christians in Great Britain do not believe in the resurrection of Jesus.
The survey also suggested that:
·         17% of all people believe the Bible version word-for-word (not me)
·         31% of Christians believe word-for-word the Bible version (not me), rising to 57% among "active" Christians (those who go to a religious service at least once a month, as I do)(not me)
·         Exactly half of all people surveyed did not believe in the resurrection at all (not me)
·         46% of people say they believe in some form of life after death (not me) and 46% do not (me)
So, I’m not alone.
I appreciate that I could be accused (with some justification) that I ‘cherry-pick’ what I believe in. But what I find really difficult is being ‘told’ by some leaders of our church communities what my faith should consist of – with, apparently, no room for doubt. Effectively, the message seems to be: “this is what the Bible says, so it must be true (or pretty close)… and if you’re not prepared to accept this, then you can’t really call yourself a Christian”. They might not think that’s what they’re regularly telling me, but that’s message that I receive and/or perceive.
Over the course of Lent 2024, I’ve been continuing my faith exploration. I’ve been reading Rowan Williams’s Easter sermons from his time as Archbishop of Canterbury 2002-12 (book: ‘Choose Life’). I regard Williams as someone worth listening to/reading, but even he says things that I find difficult to accept.
He refers to the Acts of the Apostles, where we are told “God raised Jesus to life”… If it did happen, how do we know it was down to God? Williams goes on to refer to the things Peter, John and Mary Magdalene witnessed on Easter morning (which I can accept), but then continues with the words: “When the universe began, prompted by the will and act of God…”. Again, I would ask how do we know this was down to God?
In another of the sermons, Williams refers to Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians where Paul says “that we shall die and that we shall be raised as Jesus was raised”.
Really? Is this based on something that was, some considerable time later, promised in the Bible?
Obviously, it all comes down to faith… but perhaps it’s just a case of “me of little faith”?
The other book I’ve been using this Lent is Alain de Botton’s book ‘Religion for Atheists’. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t consider myself to be an atheist – but Rowan Williams did actually refer to the book in one of his Easter sermons. I duly bought myself a copy and found it surprisingly helpful, optimistic and illuminating. I won’t go into academic detail here, but the chapter headings give a sense of what is discussed: Wisdom without Doctrine; Community; Kindness; Education; Tenderness; Pessimism; Perspective; Art; Architecture and Institutions.
I’m not a mad keen follower of Rob Bell, but I have found his writing incredibly thought-provoking and relevant (for me, at least). Take this passage from his book ‘Velvet Elvis’ (which, in many ways, touches on the things included in Alain de Botton’s book):
As a Christian, I am simply trying to orient myself around living a particular kind of way, the kind of way that Jesus taught is possible. And I think that the way of Jesus is the best possible way to live.
This isn’t irrational or primitive or blind faith. It is merely being honest that we are living a ‘way’.
I’m convinced being generous is a better way to live.
I’m convinced forgiving people and not carrying around bitterness is a better way to live.
I’m convinced having compassion is a better way to live.
I’m convinced pursuing peace in every situation is a better way to live.
I’m convinced listening to the wisdom of others is a better way to live.
I’m convinced being honest with people is a better way to live.
I would say ‘Amen’ to that.
 
I am an early riser. I’m usually up by 5am.
At various times in my life, I might have used this time for prayer and/or reading daily reflections/Bible passages.
I no longer do such things.
I can no longer be bothered.
And yet, since moving house, I now frequently find myself in my ‘Thinking Seat’ staring out of the window at the dawn of a new day.
It’s something of a magical time.
Maybe this is part of the journey to rediscover my faith?
“Caught by the light of some small heaven” (as my good friend Ian has described it) perhaps?
Who knows?… I’ll keep searching.

perfect days…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Wim Wenders’s film ‘Perfect Days’. On the face of it, the film’s subject matter is pretty uninspiring (understatement!) – it features the solitary life of a 60-something Tokyo public toilet cleaner, Hirayama (played by the rather wonderful Kōji Yakusho). Every day is the same. He lives in a frugal apartment; he puts on his overalls; he takes a can of coffee from a street vending machine; he drives to work in his modest little van; he works diligently and with a sense of pride; he exchanges words with very few people; most just don’t notice him…
It all seems pretty bleak… and yet the film proved to be entirely the opposite.
Hirayama finds quiet joy in the world around him… in the apparently insignificant things… the sunlight through the trees (and the trees themselves)… taking time to pause and take in the tiny details. His life is full of routine… he regularly takes his lunch breaks in a small landscaped square; after work, Hirayama he often bathes at a public bathhouse; he dines at a casual restaurant in a subway mall where he’s greeted as a regular; he often goes to the budget section of the local second-hand bookshop; he carefully rescues fragile Japanese maple seedlings and nurtures them in his apartment; he has an old point-and-shoot camera with which he captures the things that please him. All small, but important interactions. We all have the ability to look, but how many of us actually see?
Essentially, this achingly lovely film is an argument in favour of an alternative way of being… and I think we could all do with learning such a lesson.
I thought it was a rather wonderful, heart-warming, uplifting film and I think you should see it for yourself.
PS: And, as a bonus, Hirayama chooses to listen to 60s and 70s American and British rock songs (on cassette tapes), driving in his van, from the likes of the Velvet Underground, the Kinks, Otis Redding, Patti Smith, Nina Simone and Lou Reed.
PPS: The rather beautiful public toilets are film stars in their own right! 

february 2024 books…

So Late In The Day (Claire Keegan): Since publishing her first book in 1999, Keegan’s total work to date amounts to just five books - running to just 700 pages and some 140,000 words. In an interview for the Guardian (last September), she said: “I love to see prose being written economically… elegance is saying just enough. And I do believe that the reader completes the story.” Well, as long as you can write like Keegan, I absolutely agree. This short story follows
Cathal, a civil servant in Dublin on a summer Friday. He’s sad as he reflects on his relationship with a woman, Sabine. Gradually, we become aware that Sabine was his fiancée but that she has now left him… essentially it seems because of his attitude towards women and marriage in general. We start off feeling a little sorry for Cathal and there are occasional glimmers of awareness; his work colleagues seem worried about him and his boss encourages him to go home early. There are occasional glimmers of self-awareness, but does he fully comprehend the depth of his failure and the need to change? Keegan reveals all this in a quiet, beautifully subtle way… and, finally, the reader understands the significance of the day.
Joe Country (Mick Herron): This is the second of Herron’s ‘Slough House Thrillers’ I’ve read (it’s actually the 7^th in a series of 8, so far… I’d previously read the 1st). These novels are essentially all about British espionage; they’re clever, detailed and intriguing but, for me (and I readily acknowledge that I might be the exception), they were just TOO clever and complex. For a start, I felt there were far too many characters (and, confusingly for me, some of them were referred to by ‘other’ names or nicknames?)(would I have found things easier if I’d read books 2-6?)… I longed for a descriptive list of characters attached to the book’s inside cover – so I could keep being reminded who they all were. The novel was full of ‘spy shorthand’ (Herron trying to show off his apparent in-depth knowledge of the world of political intrigue and shadowy organisations?). It took me a long time (some 150 pages?) to get my head around stuff and, even then, I felt my level of intelligence was constantly letting me down! It’s quite a long book (nearly 350 pages) and, although I did eventually ‘get into it’ – one of the story plots involves some of the Slough House ‘crew’ being dispatched to eliminate a man responsible for killing a crew member - I really longed to finish it and start something new. Sorry!
A Room With A View (EM Forster): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1908). Strangely, although I’ve read a number of Forster’s books, I’d not previously read this one… and I really enjoyed it. It’s been described as a ‘social comedy’ – with English middle-classes holidaying in Florence… it’s about a young woman who finds her senses awakened by her experiences in Italy – her stifling Victorian propriety (personified in her pretentious fiancé) being eventually overridden by un-English passion. In Italy, she discovers life and marks her journey from adolescence to adulthood. I think all young people should experience Italy early in life! Our bookgroup is combining its discussion with a viewing of the film at 20th Century Flicks on Christmas Steps (and a visit to a local pub!).
Choose Life (Rowan Williams): The book consists of a series of Christmas and Easter sermons given during his time as Archbishop of Canterbury (2002-2012). I used the Christmas series for reflection during Advent 2023 and now for Lent 2024. Williams is someone whose wise views and reflections I’ve found helpful in the past… and, given my ongoing journey in the spiritual wilderness, hoped that these Easter sermons would prove beneficial. Well, in all honesty (and perhaps no surprises here!), I found them helpful, insightful and yet also somewhat frustrating. I frequently found myself questioning matters that Williams clearly felt were taken as read (but perhaps that’s just me in my current ‘mindset’?). I finished reading the sermons half way through Lent – on the basis that I wanted to read a second faith-related book before Easter (on which I hope to post some thoughts next month?). It’s somewhat sobering to realise that these sermons - from more than 10 years ago – frequently refer to wars, environmental concerns and financial crises. Nothing has changed… they only seem to have considerably worsened.
Walk The Blue Fields (Claire Keegan): As you will appreciate if you’ve been reading any of my recent book ‘reviews’, I’ve latterly become a huge fan of Keegan’s writing. This collection of short stories (first published in 2007) – mainly set in Ireland – represent yet more proof of her beautifully-crafted writing abilities, her use of language and her skill as a brilliant story-teller. I read each of the stories quite slowly (and often out loud to myself) and found them captivating, thought-provoking, imaginative, frequently funny and utterly mesmerising. You won’t be surprised to learn that I have yet another book of her stories on my bedside table!

living with nature and uncertainty…

Somewhat ridiculously, I watched two television documentaries a couple of days ago, back-to-back (I know… some people have to go to work!).
If you didn’t get a chance to see the BBC’s “The Great Mountain Sheep Gather” programme (first shown in 2020), it’s currently back on iPlayer and well worth watching. It’s a 100minute documentary about sheep farming on Scafell Pike, England’s tallest mountain. Every summer, half a dozen shepherds and perhaps 20 sheepdogs gather a flock of 500 native Hardwick sheep from some 1,200 acres(?) and bring them down the mountain to the farm for shearing. It’s an event that has taken place in the Lake District for over a thousand years. It’s a humbling account, seen through the eyes of Lakeland shepherd Andrew Harrison – the knowledge of the dogs, farmers and sheep passed down from generation to generation for centuries, the challenges of life in the fells, and the conflict posed by visitors and the 21st century… Some of the smaller farms have been sold and the farmhouses converted to holiday homes. There are less and less experienced farmers and shepherds remaining to pass on knowledge acquired over generations. Harrison talks movingly of the pride and respect he holds for the land and the privilege of doing what he does.
It’s absolutely mesmerising and quite, quite brilliant.
The second documentary was the first episode of Simon Reeve’s “Wilderness” programme - a journey into the Congo Basin (it’s taken me a long to get down to watching the series)… with its exotic wildlife, awe-inspiring landscapes, and terrifying rise of deforestation. It’s a powerful tale of the importance of conservation. Reeve and his ranger/conservationist guide
canoe along the Motaba River, before trudging through thick vegetation to meet the nomadic Baka (an indigenous people with very limited interaction with the western world). Reeve and his guide are warmly welcomed and the women of the village immediately proceed to construct impressive, elaborate huts to accommodate their overnight guests.
In the morning, they’re taken by the men in the village to gather honey. Like every Baka hunting haul, the treasure is, instinctively, equally shared. A telling remark from Reeve’s guide (“They take what they need, not what they want”) stayed with me long after the programme had ended.
Another hugely impressive insight into another world.
Of course, the two documentaries are very different – about lives on different continents and in very different circumstances – but there was something of a humbling connection between them… about how people live off the land with skills and knowledge passed down from generation to generation… and yet both with uncertainty about what the future had in store for the generations to come.

the zone of interest…

I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Jonathan Glazer’s film “The Zone of Interest”. It proved to be a tough, but very impressive watch.
The film focuses on the world of the true-life Nazi commandant of Auschwitz, Rudolf Höss (played by Christian Friedel), and his wife, Hedwig (Sandra Hüller) – both brilliant performances – and their five children. They live immediately next door to the death camp (which appears in the film merely glimpsed over the walls of their well-tended garden)… so it’s only the constant smoke and the film’s scary soundscape that gives a hint of the horrors that are taking place there.
The Höss family live a wholesome, idyllic life – enjoying the beauty of nature, swimming in a nearby lake, sunbathing in the long grass - but, every now and then, you’re hit by some horrific revelation… such as Hedwig picking out an expensive fur coat once owned by one the camp inmates or one their sons counting gold teeth (pulled from inmates) in bed in the middle of the night or another of the sons locking a brother in the greenhouse and making the noise of incoming gas for fun.
When Rudolf is transferred from Auschwitz to Oranienburg, Hedwig insists on staying in her dream house… but, in due course, the Nazi hierarchy decides that the number of camp deaths needs to drastically increase and Höss is re-called back to Auschwitz. In the phonecall to his wife announcing the decision, he talks about ‘murder’ without softening the language… but his words barely register with Hedwig, she just moans that it’s the middle of the night and that she needs to get back to bed.
In a film review by blogger Robert Daniels (isn’t the internet wonderful!), he says this: “Because how we remember history, how we make note of current events—through propaganda, photography, video, and the internet—is a constant interplay between the truth as it exists and as it has been edited. The fact that ‘The Zone of Interest’ arrives now, as world powers manipulate the narrative to sanitize their crimes, makes Glazer's images all the more chilling”. Let that sink in.
I think I’ll leave things there… there’s so much more I could add, but I think it’s a film you need to see you for yourself.
It’s a bruising, painful, brilliant film… and the sense of what’s happening behind the walls never leaves you. It’s one of those films that will stay with you for some time. 

january/february 2024 books…

Two Years Indoors (TeamSP): This is a book which tracks the Covid-related government actions, restrictions and decisions over a two-year period (January 2020-February 2022). Rather like the Blurb books I produced at the time (March 2020-March 2021), this book provides a fascinating and stark reminder of what we all went through. Not exactly bedtime reading, but hey!
The Forester’s Daughter (Claire Keegan): Keegan is my new favourite author! Her novella “Small Things Like These” was one of my favourite books of 2023 and this short-story is the second book of hers I’ve read this year. It tells of an Irish farmer-cum-forester (Victor) living in the heart of the Wicklow countryside… with his wife (Martha), ‘three teenagers, the milking and the mortgage’. The marriage followed a year of persistent courting… but it’s an unhappy marriage. One day, Victor stumbles across a gun dog, which he brings home and gives to his youngest daughter for her twelfth birthday. Martha is fearful/apprehensive… “The evening is fine. In the sky a few early stars are shining of their own accord. She watches the dog licking the bowl clean. This dog will break her daughters heart, she sure of it”. Keegan is a simply wonderful, mesmerising story-teller and this is a rather wonderful, poignant tale.
Politics, But Better (Tatton Spiller): This is the third Spiller book I’ve read this year. The cover claims it as “an A-Z guide to creating a more hopeful future” (my goodness, how we need some hopeful pointers these days!). But, for me, this book really didn’t do much to make me hopeful. Yes, Spiller talked a fair amount of sense (but, frankly, so I do I quite a lot of the time!), but it was hardly ground-breaking stuff and, inevitably perhaps, there were huge areas that he didn’t cover. I found it all somewhat disappointing (and, frankly, a bit boring!).
On Photography (Susan Sontag): This book, first published in 1977, is our latest Bloke’s Books selection. It takes the form of seven essays – with LOTS of references to lots of people I’d never heard of and lots of photographs that I had no knowledge of (not all that surprising!). For me, the key and obvious criticism about the book is that it didn’t contain a SINGLE photograph!! Quite, quite ridiculous. Sontag was clearly a gifted academic and, no doubt the likes of John Berger would disagree with me(!!), but I’m afraid I felt that it read a bit like a verbose student might write in order to impress their examiners – clogged full with quotations and references (but much somewhat out of context and not particularly interesting).
I thought the most noteworthy thing that arose from reading the book was that, because it was written before digital photography, the internet and the like, it absolutely highlighted how VERY different things had become in a matter of the last 50 years – the manipulation of images, photoshop, smartphones, edited/cropped images, fake images/AI etc. I love photography but I’m afraid I found this book quite boring.
Driving Over Lemons (Chris Stewart): I first read this book 14 years’ ago (it was first published in 1999). It tells the story of the author and his wife setting up home in a remote, dilapidated, peasant farm in the mountains of Andalucia, Spain – virtually on a whim, with no farming experience and little in the way of practical know-how. The scenery is clearly stunning; making a living is pretty tough, but the local characters are hilarious and endearing (even though some are a bit scary!); there’s an amazing sense of community – with people prepared to help each other. It’s funny, optimistic, beautifully-written and has a refreshing innocence. I have absolutely no desire to emulate him, but I found it absolutely enchanting… and I loved it just as much (if not more?) the second time around.

john martyn project…

I can’t quite believe that British singer-songwriter John Martyn died as long ago as 2009. I first came across him shortly after we came to Bristol in 2003 – thanks to the recommendation from my great mate Si Smith. I got to know his music pretty well - although, sadly, I never got to attend one of his concerts.
So, last night’s gig at St George’s felt both appropriate and important (for me) – even though it obviously couldn’t be a substitute for the man himself – and it was spectacularly good.
This special project was started in 2018 when six musicians (Blythe Pepino, Kit Hawes, Pete Josef, Sam Brookes, John Blakeley and Jon Short) came together to celebrate the music of John Martyn at the Camden Jazz Café. The sell-out show inspired the group to take the project on tour around the UK and mainland Europe… as well as bringing Martyn’s music back to the festival circuit.
Last night’s show was also a sell-out… and rightly so. Each of the band members were wonderful in their own right (and I loved that Blythe Pepino sang some songs from her armchair!). They performed altogether, but often just two or three would join up for particular songs (Martyn’s music ‘catalogue’ of 23/24 albums meant there was lots to choose from!).
Fittingly, for their encore, the six of them stood together at the front of the stage and sang the Martyn classic ‘Over The Hill’ – and the entire audience joined in (beautifully!). Quite a wonderful end to a brilliant evening.
Photos: Some quick photographs from the evening (apologies that I managed to decapitate a couple of band members!).

january 2024 books…

A Memoir Of My Former Self (Hilary Mantel): This is a pretty lengthy collection (nearly 400 pages) of some of Mantel’s contributions to newspapers, journals and the like over the past four decades. The subjects are wide-ranging – Tudor England; revolutionary France; her childhood; her own health issues; Princess Diana’s legacy; her Reith Lectures; her years living in Saudi Arabia; various novelists; film reviews… and even cricket! I didn’t find all her work particularly compelling but, of course, she’s writes brilliantly well – and, often, with great humour and perception. I read it within a couple of weeks but, on reflection, think I might have enjoyed/appreciated it more if I had dipped into articles from time to time on a regular basis?
The Mystery Of The Blue Train (Agatha Christie): Start of another year… time for yet another Agatha Christie mystery! This one (first published in 1928) combines all the classic ingredients: murder, trains, lots of rich people… and Poirot. Typical clever, intricate plot. Good comfort reading(?) for the start of the year.
Breakdown (Tatton Spiller): Published in 2019 (the year of the last General Election – so we’ve had Mr Johnson plus two other PMs since then!)… it’s full title is: “We’re living through the Breakdown and Here’s what you can do about it”. It’s an attempt to provide guidance so that readers will “be able to see through some of the bluster, to communicate with people with whom you disagree… (and become) part of the solution”. Spiller recommended: following lots of different people on social media; following all party conferences; listening to podcasts; and talking to people. All very plausible, sensible stuff (and, at times, quite funny)… but, to be honest, I just found 225 pages of UK politics somewhat tedious… and I couldn’t wait to finish it. Sorry.
Foster (Claire Keegan): Keegan’s book “Small Things Like These” was one of the favourite books I read last year. This one (first published in 2010) might well be one of my favourites of 2024. This short story, which takes place in the hot summer of 1981 in rural Ireland, is narrated by a young girl… who is taken by her father to live with relatives on a farm, not knowing when or if she will be brought home again. In the relatives’ house, she finds affection and warmth she has not known and slowly, in their care, begins to blossom… but (in the words from the book’s cover), “there is something unspoken in this new household – where everything is so well tended to – and the summer must come to an end”. I think I’m going to leave it that… it’s a novel of a mere 88 pages, but it is profound, beautiful and utterly lyrical. I absolutely loved it – one of those books that stay with long after the final page has been read.
The Crime At Black Dudley (Margery Allingham): Another crime novel for the start of the year (perhaps in order to avoid all the depressing stuff that’s happening in the world at present?). This one, first published in 1929, was apparently the first one to feature one of Allingham’s beloved characters, Albert Campion (a pseudonym used by a man who was born in 1900 into a prominent British aristocratic family). I’m afraid I’ve never taken to Campion… (or Allingham's writing) but that’s probably just me. This novel features a weekend house party, a ritual involving an ancient dagger, a murder, stolen documents and house guests held hostage (a typical 1920’s house party then!). It’s full of twists and ‘suspense’ but, for me, not particularly convincing. Sorry.

the boy and the heron…

I went along to the Watershed again yesterday (that’s TWICE in one week!) to see Hayao Miyazaki’s film “The Boy and the Heron” (Miyazaki had apparently retired from making films back in 2013, but hey!...).
I have a passion for Studio Ghibli films, so this was a no-brainer. As you’d expect, the animations were pretty wonderful and the drawn characterisations somewhat ‘familiar in style’ – in keeping with lots of other Studio Ghibli films (which is absolutely fine by me). Like many of Miyazaki’s films, it deals with the classic themes of childhood pain and grief arising from his memories of the second world war.
The film is a something of a complex, mysterious fantasy (understatement!)… recalling the past/coming to terms with the past. The main character, Mahito, is a boy whose mother is killed in 1943 during an air raid. His father ends up marrying his late wife’s sister and, a few years later, takes Mahito to live at his wife’s country estate. To complicate matters, his wife is also pregnant and then disappears mysteriously and Mahito’s quest is to look for her in a parallel universe (I think!)… and, unsurprisingly for Miyazaki fans, this universe is full of strange and wonderful creatures (including a talking heron).
I have to admit that I came away from the Watershed desperately trying to fit all the pieces together… I’ve just read Peter Bradshaw’s review in The Guardian and now feel somewhat better ‘informed’ (those film critics are very clever people!)… he ends up by saying it’s “about confronting a terrible sadness and finding a way to replace it with wonder and joy”.
And I think Peter Bradshaw is right.
If you’re a Studio Ghibli fan, you obviously need to see this! 

PS: The Watershed now sell popcorn... As I'm a grumpy old codger, you won't be surprised that I struggle with the popcorn - not so much the distraction of hearing people eating it (someone sitting immediately behind me yesterday was VERY noisy!), but the smell of the bloomin' stuff!! But, as I say, I'm just a grumpy old codger!!

one life…

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see “One Life”, directed by James Hawes… my first trip to the cinema this year.
The film is based on the true story of a young British stockbroker named Nicholas Winton (played by Johnny Flynn, and in later life by Anthony Hopkins) who visited Czechoslovakia in the late1930s to see with his own eyes the humanitarian crisis emerging among the exiled Jewish community in that country.
He was so shocked by the scenes he witnessed that, with the assistance of his mother, Babette (Helena Bonham Carter) and others, he ended up helping to secure (against the most appalling odds) the rescue of 669 children.
In the later section, set in the 1980s, Winton has retired and, in the course of clearing out his study, comes across a battered briefcase containing the names and pictures of the children whose escapes from Prague he’d facilitated and realises its historical significance and that it probably needed to be passed on to an appropriate authority. Cutting a long story short, the Kindertransport is taken up by the media (thanks to Robert Maxwell of all people!), amongst others, including the “That’s Life!” television programme.
I was already familiar with the basic facts behind the story - and it REALLY is an amazing testament to Winton’s determination, compassion and humanity. It’s certainly a very ‘worthy’ film… but not, in my view, a great one.
What did strike me quite markedly was the fact that history was currently repeating itself – in terms of wartime child deaths.
My friend Penny has also seen the film and pointed out that some 15,000 children were killed in concentration camps in Czechoslovakia during the course of WW2… and that over 10,000 children are estimated as having been killed in Palestine since October 2023 alone.
A very sobering thought.
PS: Very weirdly, I noticed that our old friends from Thame (via USA), Cheryl and Clive Gissing, were ‘extras’ in the “That’s Life” sequence at the end of the film… and then had a vague memory that one of families might have a direct connection with the Winton story (or perhaps it was just that they make attractive ‘extras’!)?

1,000 paper cranes…

In December 2022, as part of our Golden Wedding Anniversary celebrations, our daughter Ru resolved that she was going to use the coming year to make 1,000 (yes, ONE THOUSAND!) paper cranes on our behalf. According to Japanese tradition/legend(?), such an act can bring a lifetime of happiness or good luck.
People who don’t know Ru might be forgiven for thinking that this was just one of those things people resolve to do… but either just give up or never quite get round to doing. Well, yesterday, Ru delivered her promise (literally)…
We now have 1,000 paper cranes adorning our apartment.
They make a simply stunning, magical sight.
I’ve found the whole experience quite emotional… the time that has gone into this venture; the generosity and love involved; the dedication and determination… and the beauty and size of the final piece.
Quite, quite overwhelming… and very, very lovely.
We are very lucky people. x 
Photo: It’s pretty tricky to photograph 1,000 paper cranes (and impossible to do them justice)… but the attached image provide an impression…

new year reflections: december 2023…

I’ve been scribbling New Year Reflections on my blog for a number of years now (as always – just a reminder for ME). Initially, I decided to drop this rather lame ‘tradition’ but then realised that, because I forget stuff so easily, it made sense to jot things down for future reference! I’ll endeavour to keep it relatively brief this year (some hope!)…
 
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, as ever, it seems to take ages for the group to read each book/organise meet-ups!). I continue to read a LOT of books (85 this year) and here are my FIVE favourites (in no particular order):
Small Things Like These (Claire Keegan); The High House (Jessie Greengrass); Devotions (Mary Oliver); Tin Man (Sarah Winman); and, I KNOW I’m cheating here, four ‘Lucy Barton books’ (Elizabeth Strout, my current favourite author): My Name Is Lucy Barton, Anything Is Possible, Oh William! and Lucy By The Sea.
 
GREAT FILMS:
Strangely, I’ve only been to the Watershed eleven times this year (a lot of post-pandemic films haven’t really appealed to me?) but, nevertheless, I saw some brilliant movies. These were my FIVE favourites:
Talking Heads: Stop Making Sense; Tish; Past Lives; Asteroid City; and Lunana: a Yak in the Classroom… (plus, of course, It’s A Wonderful Life!).
 
LOVELY LIVE PERFORMANCES/EXHIBITIONS:
We continue to enjoy going to the theatre, concerts and exhibitions (but, sadly, not many theatre trips in 2023 – although those we did make were excellent) – but still a long way to go! Here are a few favourites (I feel sure there are some exhibitions I’ve forgotten):
THEATRE:
As You Like It (RSC Stratford); Drive Your Plow Over The Bones Of The Dead (Bristol Old Vic); and Kathy+Stella (Bristol Old Vic).
CONCERTS:
Karine Polwart+Kitty Macfarlane; O’Hooley+Tidow; Three Cane Whale; The Metropolitan Orchestra: Mahler Symphony No.1; The Metropolitan Orchestra: Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No.4 (all at St George’s). 
EXHIBITIONS:
170th Annual Open Exhibition (RWA); Threads (Arnolfini); Force Of Nature Light Show (Bristol Cathedral); Found Cities, Lost Objects: Women In The City (RWA); Oil Fountain: Luke Jerram (Bristol Cathedral); Photography Exhibition (RWA); plus various art at The Ashmolean, Oxford.
SPORTING MOMENTS:
This year has been a sparse year in terms of watching ANY ‘live’ first-class sport (understatement!). I watched just ONE game of rugby (courtesy of Robin) and, I think, only TWO days of cricket at Gloucestershire CC!
Pathetic, I know! Determined to watch more cricket in 2024…
 
ART STUFF:
With no Art Trail participation these days, my ‘Art Stuff’ is fairly limited… and predictable (although it continues to represent a crucial and enjoyable part of my life):
1. I’ve continued to post a drawing or photograph every day as part of my “One Day Like This” blog (now some 4,120 consecutive days – that’s more than 2,000 drawings and 2,000 photographs - since I started in September 2012, more than 11 years ago)!
2. Urban Sketchers, Bristol: I’ve continued to really enjoy this wonderful group (which I joined in March 2018 and am now one of its three administrators)… it’s a worldwide organisation and, here in Bristol, we meet up every month and get anything from 15 to over 30 people coming along. It’s a real highlight and joy.
3. I think I need to paint a bit more than I actually do…
 
HOLIDAYS/LEISURE:
After three years of ‘no holidays’, we actually went away a couple of times this year. We spent a lovely 5 days in Oxford in July – re-living our student days; and then 6 days in Exmouth - it was lovely to see the sea again after so long (just a pity that the weather was pretty grim).
 
SPIRITUAL LIFE:
In theory, I continue to be part of the Community of Saint Stephens in the heart of the city but, as has been the case for several years now, I’m really struggling faith-wise. So much so that, for the past 15 months or so, I’ve taken a ‘sabbatical’ from attending church services (although I did attend the ‘Bethlehem Midnight Mass’ at Saint Stephen’s on Christmas Eve). How long this will continue, only time will tell (indefinitely perhaps?). Moira continues to attend pretty regularly. In the meantime, I’m still trying to find a way of reflecting on the spiritual stuff in my life (albeit far from convincingly!). Meanwhile, I continue to go along to our weekly 7.30am café gatherings for Blokes’ Prayer (which has effectively become my ‘church’) and also attend many of the fortnightly Resonate evening sessions.
 
HEALTH:
My health has been pretty good this year… apart from the normal ageing process (my teeth continue to fall out; I’ve got two hearing aids; I take tablets for my atrial fibrillation plus blood thinners and statins; and have eye drops to deter my glaucoma). My main frustration is my left hip (it’s gradually got worse over the past 3 years); I’ve been walking with a stick over the last 6 months (and my geographical range has vastly reduced!)… and I’m finding it increasingly debilitating. I definitely need a hip replacement (my right hip was replaced 9 years ago) and I’m currently scheduled for an operation in 6-9 months’ time (I’ve got a hospital appointment on 5 January – when, hopefully, I might be given an operation date?).
Meanwhile, Moira continues to deal with her Parkinson’s Disease (confirmed May 2022). She’s generally pretty well and her medication seems to be pretty effective… and she undertakes daily physical exercise via her PD Warrior links (I’m a little in awe of her). Her main frustration is the lack of contact with her Consultants (she’s seen them just once – in May 2022 – and was promised a follow-up consultation within 3-4 months). Despite pressure on the Consultants from her PD Nurse (Moira’s only way of contacting the consultants), she’s still awaiting ANY feedback – 19 MONTHS LATER!
Having lived with the uncertainties of a pandemic over the past FEW years, we’ve become rather used to living with uncertainty!
 
OTHER STUFF:
My early morning walking activities have dropped depressingly over the past 12 months (due to my ongoing hip issues)… but, as alternative dawn ‘activity’, I really enjoy watching the mornings begin… looking through our living room windows.
We gave up the car 6 years ago and, more than a year ago, I gave up driving altogether – so buses and trains are now our default modes of transport. Weirdly, I seem to have developed some form of ‘anxiety’ towards travel.
The world seems to be full of challenges these days (it was probably ever thus)… wars, the climate change, annoying politicians… greed, poverty, lack of funding for the NHS, mental health, education and so much more.
But I DO 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 2024 will bring. No doubt there will be some sad stuff too… and perhaps encounters we feel ill-equipped to face? In such times, families and friendships will, once again, see us through.
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 (hopefully) peaceful 2024. 

november-december 2023 books…

Tomorrow And Tomorrow And Tomorrow (Gabrielle Zevin): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (478 pages long – which, as we always skip meeting in December, allows time for us all to read it!). This is a book about video gaming. I know NOTHING about video gaming… but it didn’t matter. It’s a complex book about friendship, love, creativity, betrayal, rivalry and tragedy (but, as the book’s cover makes clear: “it’s not a romance”!). The key characters, Sam and Sadie, first meet in childhood – in a hospital games room (Sam had an injured foot, which becomes a long-term disability). Years later, they bump into each other at a train station when they were both college students (Sam, mathematics at Harvard and Sadie, computer science at MIT) and, cutting a long story short, end up making an incredibly successful video game together. Their non-romantic relationship is a joining of minds and of worlds but, such creative relationships can also cause rivalry and resentment… which is what happens with them (despite them both continuing to work in the Company they’d set up together at the very beginning). I don’t want to spoil things, so will leave it at that – apart from saying that the story ends with an abstract section set in a virtual world which, ultimately, reveals a means of communication and reconciliation for its real-life players. It’s a very clever, intriguing (and very enjoyable) book.
Uncle Fred In The Springtime (PG Wodehouse): I read this more than 6 years ago (first published 1939), but had forgotten most of it(!). Uncle Fred is Lord Ickenham - as with many of Wodehouse’s books, this one’s full of titled/upper-class characters – and he is urged by a Lord Emsworth to save his prize pig (an everyday story of country folk!). The plot is predictably complex and farcical and, just to complicate things further, many of the characters take on disguised personas during the course of the tale. Who could ever forget(!) people with names such as Pongo Twistleton, Horace Pendlebury-Davenport, Galahad Threepwood, Bingo Little, Oofy Prosser and Bricky Bostock? It’s an absurd storyline but, thanks to Wodehouse’s wonderful, posh descriptions and humour, it provides a hugely enjoyable respite to all the current troubles here in the UK and the world.
Mrs McGinty’s Dead (Agatha Christie): Resorting back to yet another Christie novel (I think we have something like 35 of them on our bookshelves!). This one was first published in 1952 and a village charwoman is murdered and her lodger is found guilty of killing her… but a local police superintendent has his doubts and seeks the help of a certain retired detective, Hercule Poirot. It’s a very clever, satisfying mystery – with lots of plausible possibilities and suspects.
Pessimism Is For Lightweights (Salena Godden): This is a book of 30 poems by a writer I hadn’t previously come across. One of the reviews I came across talked about them as poems “for courage and justice”… there are poems that salute people fighting for justice, poems on sexism and racism, class discrimination, period poverty and homelessness, asylum seekers, immigration and identity. I found them hugely impressive and read them out loud to myself each morning. Excellent.
Choose Life (Rowan Williams): This was my book for this year’s Advent. It’s a series of Christmas and Easter sermons Williams gave in Canterbury Cathedral between 2002 and 2012 (I’ve just read the Advert ones for now). Williams has always struck me as a wise and intelligent man and so I felt that, in my ongoing faith struggles, he might be a good person to read about Christianity at Advent. It proved to be a useful, thought-provoking book – albeit it didn’t quite haul me out of my spiritual wilderness. 

it’s a wonderful life…

Han, Fee, Ursa, Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday to see Frank Capra’s iconic 1946 fantasy Christmas film… starring James Stewart (George Bailey) and Donna Reed (Mary Hatch).
It’s a great favourite of mine and I’ve watched it several times (and own the DVD), but never at the cinema… and Hannah, Fee or Ursa hadn’t ever seen it.
You’re probably very familiar with the plot… on Christmas Eve 1945, in Bedford Falls, New York, George Bailey contemplates suicide. The prayers of his family and friends reach Heaven, where guardian angel second class Clarence Odbody is assigned to save George in order to earn his wings…
So starts a series of flashbacks of George’s life… he saves his younger brother from drowning; prevents the local pharmacist from accidentally poisoning a customer's prescription; his ambitions for travel and study are thwarted by his father’s death and so is required to take over the family banking business… he marries; ends up using their honeymoon savings to keep the bank afloat… and, of course, has to fight off a certain Mr Henry Potter who effectively controls the town through devious methods…
I’ll spare you the remaining gory details but, cutting a long story short, Potter steals money from Bailey without Bailey realising; the bank faces scandal and criminal charges… and George Bailey contemplates suicide.
Enter Clarence…
It proved to be a rather wonderful evening: a pretty full-to-capacity cinema; all members of our ‘party’ absolutely loved the film; and, perhaps for only the third time in my experience, the entire audience clapped at the end!
If you’ve never seen it, then I really thinking you need to!
PS: Apparently, at the Glasgow Film Theatre, it’s been the venue’s biggest earner for 12 of the last 15 years!