Tiny Pink Stars

The Lost Hotels of Paris

Wed, 01 Apr 2009 21:17:00 GMT

The Lord gives everything and charges
by taking it back. What a bargain.
Like being young for a while. We are
allowed to visit hearts of women,
to go into their bodies so we feel
no longer alone. We are permitted
romantic love with its bounty and half-life
of two years. It is right to mourn
for the small hotels of Paris that used to be
when we used to be. My mansard looking
down on Notre Dame every morning is gone,
and me listening to the bell at night.
Venice is no more. The best Greek islands
have drowned in acceleration. But it's the having
not the keeping that is the treasure.
Ginsberg came to my house one afternoon
and said he was giving up poetry
because it told lies, that language distorts.
I agreed, but asked what we have
that gets it right even that much
We look up at the stars and they are
not there. We see the memory
of when they were, once upon a time.
And that too is more than enough.
- Jack Gilbert

Five things I've gotten from Rachael

Thu, 26 Feb 2009 23:30:51 GMT

Today is meme day. impishredhead wants me to talk about these thing...

1. Comment to this post and I will give you 5 subjects/things I associate you with.
2. Then post this in your LJ and elaborate on the subjects given.

1. Travelling
I've always wanted to travel. I love arriving somewhere completely new and exploring it until it takes on degrees of familiarity. I love the transformation in my head from a two-dimensional picture to a whole array of other images - knowing what Machu Picchu looks like when you're having a pee in a clump of trees not far away, for example, or the way it smells when you're inside one of the pyramids (not very nice, really). And having been somewhere has an effect on the way I read books or news or see a film featuring that place afterwards - though this was quite unnerving with the recent bomb in Cairo. We had been sitting on a wall only a few metres from where the bomb exploded a few weeks before hand.

2. Tattoos
I have six tattoos. Ivy running down the back of my neck and across my foot; my beautiful sacred heart on my right shoulder, with a band of roses and barbed wire running underneath - though this is badly done and I've got plans to get it re-worked, possibly getting a smidgeon of colour put into the roses; an ankh on my left shoulder; and three pink flowers of unknown variety on my left wrist.
This is the picture my flowers were taken from:

And this is how they turned out, though this picture was taken just after it was done so it still looks quite fresh and swollen:

I've always loved the idea of collecting images on my body, possibly with the same instinct that drives me to live in a space surrounded by things I've gathered. Obviously, having worked in a tattooists' , I know a lot more about tattoos than when I first got my ankh done when I was 19, and I think were I to go back to having a completely blank body I would go for three-quarter length, full-colour oriental sleeves. As it is I plan to (eventually) get my ankh covered up by the Subirach drawing of Veronica holding the veil of Christ from the Segrada Familia in Barcelona. I do worry that this might be an overload of very Catholic tattoos though.

3. Audrey Hepburn
Audrey Hepburn is the most beautiful woman ever. Obviously. Closely followed by Cate Blanchett.

4. Writing
I have a love-hate relationship with writing. I do it a lot. I wrote lots of excruciatingly bad poetry when I was in my teens and early twenties, and I have my 'novel' which I abandoned when I realised that basically I had stolen all my themes from John Fowles' The Collector. A lot of what I seem to write at the moment (and, alas, for quite a while. I really need to get more focus into my writing) is very short vignettes and fragments. I'm sure I have more first lines than anyone else. Writing is also an intensely private thing for me, and while I harbour ambitions of being the next winner of the ManBooker prize should I ever actually manage to finish a novel that isn't plagiarised, I might cry if I had to show it to anyone.

5. Eclectic dress sense
Erm. I don't think I have an eclectic dress sense. I tend to wear a lot of black. This isn't out of any kind of style mission or gothiness, it's just quite practical really. I tend to feel self-conscious in bright clothing, though I'm starting to wear a lot more non-black things. I like flowery dresses. I hate trousers.

I always find it weird that people seem to think my furry boots are odd, though I guess from the amount of comments I get about them that they must.

Oh, completely unrelatedly, I may have a present for some bunnies...

When the Trickster Starts a-Pokin'...

Sun, 21 Dec 2008 15:02:05 GMT

Having seen both Gogol Bordello and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds in the space of a month, I've come to the conclusion that a truly spectacular band requires two important elements.

1. A Really Big Moustache

2. A Crazy Violinist

So obviously any of you out there with a band that doesn't have a very big moustache and a crazy fiddler in it is just going to have to try harder. And no, a beard isn't good enough!

The Year in a Meme.

Thu, 11 Dec 2008 12:02:44 GMT

I haven't written very much here this year. So here's a meme instead.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before?
Went to South America and experienced high altitude. Drove over the Skye Bridge. Went to the cinema with a very heavily pregnant woman. Wore flipflops. (I'm a bit ahsamed of the last one).

2. Where did you study/ work?
Still at OPFS and the Bike Station

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Helen and Katherine

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No

5. What countries did you visit?
Germany, France, Peru, Croatia, Montenegro and Bosnia (and Holland if Schiphol airport counts!)

6. Did you move anywhere?
Nope

7. What sporting events did you go to?
Absolutely none. Thankfully.

8. What concerts did you go to?
Portishead, Goldfrapp, Siouxsie, Nick Cave, Amanda Palmer, Kristin Hersh, and of course, the inimitable Wraiths! Lots of wonderful local bands like EagleOwl, My Kappa Roots etc. Some others that I can’t think of right now. Off to see Gogol Bordello next week.

9. Who was your Valentine in 2008?
Dan, obviously.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Only the chronic illness so far. Touch wood, and all that.

11. What was your best month?
Not sure about that. It’s been a pretty good year.

12. Where did most of your money go?
Travelling. Eating and drinking. Books.

13. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Travelling.

14. What song will always remind you of 2008?
I don’t know about the whole of 2008, but after the Morrissey Disco at the weekend, I’ll probably think of our trip to visit Nathan and Emma in Manchester whenever I hear Morrissey.

15. What did you do on the 4th of July?
No idea. It was a Friday though, so I was probably working, and then did the Friday Thing of watching films and drinking wine.

16. What were the best...

i. books you read?
The Diving Bell and the Buttefly (Jean-Dominique Bauby), a biography of Samuel Beckett by Deirdre Bair, On Chesil Beach (Ian McEwan), The Diving Pool (Yoko Ogawa), A Confederacy of Dunces (John Kennedy Toole).

ii. movies you saw?
Eagle Vs Shark, Paris, No Country for Old Men, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, There Will be Blood

iii. CD's you listened to?
I love Who Killed Amanda Palmer, and I’ve been listening to a lot of Gogol Bordello.

17. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Writing. Or at least writing more than fragmentary things.

18. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Can’t think of anything. I should probably have drunk less.

19. How will you be spending Christmas?
At home, eating too many sprouts.

20. Did you fall in love in 2008?
Still very much in love.

21. How many one-night stands?
none

22. What was your favorite TV program?
Still no TV, but we have watched Flight of the Conchords on DVD more than is possibly healthy recently.

23. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? I’m still very happy.
ii. thinner or fatter? I think I’m about the same.
iii. richer or poorer? Right now, poorer, given our travel plans for next year…

24. What was your favorite summer memory of 2008?
I think if we’re talking about the summer rather than the entire year, the thing that will stick in my mind most will be the huge storm the night Dan, Kathryn and I stayed in Buxton, and walking up the hill to the campsite along a road that had been turned into a river.

25. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
29, and I had a quiet day with Dan, and then met some lovely people at the Sheep’s Heid for a few drinks.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Can’t think of anything.

27. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Still Cate, in spite of how terrible the Indiana Jones film was.

28. Who was the best new person you met?
Malc’n’Helen’s baby, Rowan. He farted on me.

29. Where were you when 2008 began and who were you with?
At the scariest fireworks display in the world in Hamburg with Dan, Christian and Kristina.

30. What are your plans for 2009?
Going to Egypt (in 6.5 weeks!!) and Borneo. Hopefully starting an MSc, if they ever decide whether or not they’re going to give me a place. And we have tickets to see Waiting for Godot with Ian McKellan and Patrick Stewart.

That would be a world gone topsy-turvy...

Mon, 10 Nov 2008 21:54:30 GMT

I've just had a phone call from my very drunk Mother, who is currently at home in Peebles with my very drunk Father.

One of the things Mother said on the phone was that I shouldn't phone her on her landline just now, because there's a crossed line and all her calls go somewhere else. In a novel, that would be a wonderful piece of symbolism.

I have no idea what's going on anymore.

Slightly boggled...

Thu, 23 Oct 2008 13:17:07 GMT

My parents divorced sixteen years ago. The only time I've seen both of them together since then was at my graduation, which was strained, to say the least.

When Dan and I visited my Dad at the weekend (where he mentioned that he'd been in hospital, but hadn't bothered letting us know at the time because 'it was only a mild heart attack') he asked if I could check the divorce date with Mum because he needed it for a pension document. So when we saw Mother last night I dutifully asked. Mother's just became unemployed once more after an altercation at work where she swore at a pregnant woman, and she really hates not working so she said that she'd look it up, and phone Dad herself to let him know.

The upshot of all this is that my father is taking my mother out to lunch on Monday.

It's all very weird.

Good Taste!

Wed, 22 Oct 2008 11:43:20 GMT

A meme from poor, coughing sakirmo, which seems quite appropriate as I'm currently filling in an application for a gallery job, which I probably don't have a hope in hell of getting as it's stretching things a bit to class anatomy as 'an arts-related subject' (even though my engineer ex-flatmate thought that biology wasn't a proper science).

Your result for What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test...

Simple, Progressive, and Sensual

Ukiyo-e (浮世絵, Ukiyo-e), "pictures of the floating world", is a genre of Japaneseand paintings produced between the 17th and the 20th centuries. it mostly featured landscapes, historic tales, theatre, and pleasure. Ukiyo is a rather impetuous urban culture that has bloomed in popularity. Although the Japanese were more strict and had many prohibitions it did not affect the rising merchant class and therefore became a floating art form that did not bind itself to the normal ideals of society.

People that chose Ukiyo-e art tend to be more simplistic yet elegant. They don't care much about new style but are comfortable in creating their own. They like the idea of living for the moment and enjoy giving and receiving pleasure. They may be more agreeable than other people and do not like to argue. They do not mind following traditions but are not afraid to move forward to experience other ideas in life. They tend to enjoy nature and the outdoors. They do not mind being more adventurous in their sexual experiences. They enjoy being popular and like being noticed. They have their own unique style of dress and of presenting themselves. They may also tend to be more business oriented or at the very least interested in money making adventures. They might make good entrepreneurs. They are progressive and adaptable.

Take What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test at HelloQuizzy

A Home at the End of the World, Michael Cunningham

Fri, 17 Oct 2008 21:49:41 GMT

As the salesman worked through his spiel, a lender woman walked by, carrying twins in a knapsack-like contraption. She was less than beautiful, with shaggy matte brown hair, and a sharp, shrewd little chin. Her eyes – her whole body – looked tired in a profound, almost permanent way, as if no amount of rest would ever quite restore her. Still, she possessed a sure-footed self-assurance that lent weight to the bright aisle she walked in search of the correct yard tool. Her twins stared with puzzled absorption at the empty air directly in front of them. As she made her way along the aisle, I thought of how firmly anchored her life must be, for all its domestic hardship. A year from today, her twins would be walking and speaking. A year from today she would know exactly how much time had passed.

Public Service Announcement for the Citizens of Edinburgh

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 11:33:58 GMT

Kristin Hersh is doing a show called 'Paradoxical Undressing' at St Cecilia's Hall on the Cowgate until the 23rd. It's a mixture of music, spoken word and film, and it's brilliant, intense stuff to give you the shivers. An amazing venue too - an oval room with chandeliers, and a display of old instruments downstairs to look at before you go in. There were only 20 people there last night.

My other festival recommendation is 'Feast of the Ants', a Japanese play using Noh and other elements of traditional Japanese theatre. You'd have to see it to understand.

Off!

Thu, 15 May 2008 12:13:54 GMT

Tomorrow we go to Peru. I think I'm all ready. Our training has gone well, including our triumphant climb of Ben Nevis last Monday. I now have calves of steel! So hopefully I should manage the Inca Trail, though there is that pesky little problem of altitude sickness to worry about... apparently our hotel in Cuzco serves free hot beberages [sic], including coca tea - apparently the best thing for it. I told my mum that, and she asked if we would be getting some in advance to take with us. I had to explain that that's not really legal.

I'm a wee bit excited. Even though we have a night sleeping in Heathrow airport to look forward to (not terminal 5, I might add!). And the book I'm planning on taking with me to read possibly doesn't have the best title...

Inside my mind...

Mon, 28 Apr 2008 11:23:46 GMT

From sakirmo

It sounds quite a lot like me. Particulalrly that 'not a patient teacher' bit...

Your Thinking is Abstract and Sequential

You like to do research and collect lots of information.

The more facts you have, the easier it is for you to learn.

You need to figure things out for yourself and consider all possibilities.

You tend to become an expert in the subjects that you study.

It's difficult for you to work with people who know less than you do.

You aren't a very patient teacher, and you don't like convincing people that you're right.

What Kind of Thinker Are You?

The Goat Fell, but we didn't...

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 22:38:43 GMT

Dan and I have just spent a weekend hiking in Arran. We climbed Goat Fell. It was quite high. And very windy. There was snow. And you could see Ireland from up there.

It was also my first opportunity to use my new sleeping bag, which was wonderfully cosy. The only problem that's really occurred is that my walking boots have decided that now is the time to start splitting - not great, as it's less than four weeks until we're off to Peru. I popped out to the Army and Navy Surplus Store on Leith Walk today (along with impishredhead, who got some very funky wellies for beekeeping) and managed to find a pair of end of line boots reduced to twenty quid! The joys of having tiny feet... these are actually adult boots, so they're a decidedly sensible grey colour, unlike my previous kiddie boots, which were pink with fur trim... I think the children's ones were probably more me.

I've also put some pictures from our trip to Paris last month on Facebook, should anyone be interested. Paris was a combination of doing the usual tourist activities and sitting around in cafes drinking wine - I even managed to invent a new word. I know that the French for glass is verre. I know this. But somehow, when speaking to a waiter, between my brain and my mouth that became 'terre'... No one seemed to know what a terre de vin was. I also got very excited by buying this biography of Sylvia Beach in Shakespeare and Co. bookshop. For me, the literary connections were one of the major attractions of Paris, and so this was quite a moment for me... I don't think anyone else will understand though.

Finally, should anyone care to save me from madness: I have a film stuck in my head, and I can't for the life of me think what it is. All I remember is one section, I think it was just a subplot, possibly a flash back to a traumatic memory. A woman was kidnapped by a kind of hick farmer guy who drove her off in to the country to rape her. She had her hands tied up, but she managed to stab him, I think with a pocket knife she'd gotten from his back pocket. The police tracked her down and she was taken off to hospital in a helicopter. I think the policeman that found her may be the focus of the story, but really I have no idea. I don't know where I saw it, and I couldn't even tell you whether it was good, bad or indifferent. I think it was American. Any ideas?

Photo nostalgia

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 17:55:44 GMT

Keith posting some childhood pictures on Facebook reminded me of this picture of me back when I was a Small Child. I was quite disgustingly cute back then, even if I do say so myself (my dad always adds "what happened?" when ever he talks about how adorable I was as a kid)

...and then there's this picture taken when my hair was starting to grow back after that little incident with a bic razor:

And just so it's not all pictures of me, here's a picture of Dan at his most monkey like:

On the Advantages of having a Floating Head

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 12:12:42 GMT

I'm back to not being able to move my head properly to the left. This started in September, and after a couple of weeks it kind of faded to a kind of background stiffness which has been pretty annoying. Eventually I went for a massage at Napier's last week with the wonderfully-named Christina Lazarus, which was fantastic and made me really happy, and afterwards tramps commented on my smile. Then yesterday morning I awoke in a decidedly odd position, which I knew would be incredibly painful as soon as I moved.

It was.

I also woke up yesterday with hair very like Russell Brand's, so maybe the neck troubles have stemmed from all my crazy hair?

********************************

As both dan_monkeyhouse and nik_strychnine have reported, Glasgow did indeed implode on Saturday night, but I just sat across the road in Mono and read my book (except when Wraiths played, obviously). It was a wonderful day.

It's nice to be wanted,,,

Tue, 01 Apr 2008 19:21:43 GMT

Yesterday, I got an email offering me job at Oxford University. Curation and conservation of the wet collections of their zoology museum.

It's a shame Oxford isn't in commuting distance from Edinburgh.

Pottery and Willow

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 11:30:11 GMT

Today, Dan and I have been together for nine years. They've been good years.

In reality I'd never eat at KFC (and other obvious fallacies)

Mon, 17 Mar 2008 12:30:50 GMT

A woman was going to get burned at the stake. She was a friend of mine. She escaped by changing in to a Talking Shower Curtain. I went to meet Paul in KFC. We were going to eat their vegetarian meal (some potato wedges, a particularly small packet of root vegetable crisps and a plate of fried seaweed. I didn't get my seaweed) and discuss the shortage of public toilets in central Edinburgh. I had also been going to bring along the Talking Shower Curtain, as Evs had been going to use it in a uni presentation the next day which she was going to do dressed up as a man, but I realised I had left it behind. I decided instead that I would take it to the Auld Hoose, and leave it behind the bar for her to pick up from there, but when I got there I realised that instead of picking up the bag with the shower curtain in, I had just brought along some dirty towels. I was very annoyed at myself, but then I got distracted by a new shop that had just appeared. It was filled with a whole array of bizarre items, and had stairs that led to nowhere. Dan and I bought baby clothes with ladybirds on for Rachael's impending child.

******************
...but in reality, I do have a fridge full of kale, which makes me happy.

A sunny Thursday morning in March

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 10:54:15 GMT

I got two more vaccines today in preparation for Peru. Rabies and HepB. I had my HepA booster on Tuesday, so now there are only 5 more to go... The Rabies vaccine apparently makes you feel quite spaced, so I have that to look forward to. At least I shouldn't have to worry about rabid vampire bats nibbling on my toes while I'm in a tent in the Andes, which is apparently where the biggest rabies risk comes from over there. I also got more money for the sponsorship pot by making cakes... I called it Cake Karma. There was a Buddha whose belly you could fill with money in return for him filling your belly with cake. I'm sure Brian won't be surprised to hear that my banana bread went down quite well - I had a request for the recipe, and a commission for an entire loaf.

While walking home from the clinic, I saw a sign on St Mary's Street (which is being dug up yet again) saying "NO DROP OFF'S IN THIS AREA, TAXI DROP OFF'S UP AHEAD". It makes my fingers itch just typing that.

On a completely different note, any Edinburgh folk know where I can buy some curly kale? I have a huge craving, and I can't find any!

Lightning Fast!

Wed, 05 Mar 2008 11:10:01 GMT

Today was my half day working at The Bike Station. The work load can be pretty variable. So this morning I dragged myself out of bed at about 9:05, had breakfast, washed, dressed, put some make-up on and walked out there. It takes about 20-25 minutes. I had finished working by 10am. The seven minutes of work I did included the time it took the computer to boot up.

While I suppose the time could possibly have been spent better doing something else, it's less irritating than the times I've turned up and nobody's there.

I did, however, manage to take some nice pictures of Siouxsie Sioux on Monday night...

When I grow up I want to be David Attenborough

Sun, 02 Mar 2008 14:47:45 GMT

One of the few bad things about not having a television is not being able to watch documentaries. However, there is the pleasure of getting the entire series of Life in Cold Blood on DVD and being able to watch it over and over again.

And having watched quite a lot of episodes at various people's houses over the last few months we've finally succumbed to buying The Mighty Boosh. Tonight will be spent with tea and toast and DVDs...

Anyway, this is what February contained prior to the DVDs:

Books
Andre Gide, The Immoralist

Marguerite Duras, The Lover
Just poetry. Beautiful.

Thomas Mann, Death in Venice
One of my favourite books, I think. It has many similarities to The Immoralist in its themes of Nietzschean dichotomy, but personally I prefer Death in Venice. And I prefer the book to the film. So there.

Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf
I was quite disappointed by this. There were some absolutely wonderful passages in there, and the scenes at the magic theatre were great, but the ideas seemed muddled and it left me cold.

Andrei Platonov, Soul
Stalin said that Platonov was ‘Scum’ who should be given a good belting… Soul creates a myth set in the deserts of Central Asia. It shows quite a bit of disappointment with Communism. Can’t think why Stalin didn’t like it…

Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince
If you haven’t already, READ THIS BOOK NOW. That’s all I’m going to say

Films
Ghosts of Cite Soleil
A documentary about gangs in Haiti. Scary stuff.

The Simpsons Movie.
Some very funny moments, but it doesn’t really work for 90 minutes.

Naked Lunch
How can you not love a film featuring a giant typewriter bug with an anus for a mouth?

Half Nelson.
Very good. Manages to avoid most of the clichés about teacher/student films

Stalker
It has a Wizard of Oz transformation to colour when they get to the ‘zone’ (a cause of fear, in case it turned out to be the infamous Grummm zone!) which was quite disappointing because the sepia toned stuff was gorgeous. The film as a whole is mesmerising, creating tension perfectly. And over the final scene there’s a poem which seemed to be very familiar… Bjork used it as the lyrics to ‘Dull Flame of Desire’

There will be Blood
I loved this. Just immense and apocalyptic, and the music is perfect.

Plays
Equus
An amazing production. Gave me shivers.

Six Characters Looking for an Author
After seeing Equus two nights earlier, Six Characters seemed much more of an intellectual exercise, but it worked in spite of that. And in spite of the old lady behind, who gave us a commentary on the first 20 minutes of the play, and a run down or which actors she knew…

...and an Opera
Eugene Onegin
Not the greatest opera in the world, and it could have benefited from a more opulent production, but it was an enjoyable evening nonetheless. And I got to practice my Russian

A little bit of entertainment...

Sun, 24 Feb 2008 23:07:11 GMT

Film quiz. You know what to do. No cheating!

1. Sex is like pissing. People take it much too seriously.
2. I feel like a pig shat in my head
3. I was born on the side of a hill.
4. There will be no more talk of marriage.
5. Second shelf is mine. That's where I keep my rootbeers and my double-thick Oreo cookies. Nobody touches the second shelf but me.
6. You want me to seduce a dying girl? And what makes you think she'll just leave me all her money?
7. There was nothing I hated more than to see a filthy old drunkie, a-howling away at the filthy songs of his fathers and going blurp blurp in between as if it were a filthy old orchestra in his stinking rotten guts. I could never stand to see anyone like that, especially when they were old like this one was.
8. It's a pity you didn't sign the Smiths, but you were right about Mick Hucknell. His music's rubbish, and he's a ginger.
9. If I wasn't a transvestite terrorist, would you marry me?
10. At least you'll never be a vegetable - even artichokes have hearts.
11. I don't think she's a lesbian. She's pregnant
12. I guess it's about time for our William Tell routine.
13. The more you read, though, the more you'll see that literature is actually about losers.
14. It is a very plum plum.
15. Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night!

He blinded six horses with a metal spike...

Thu, 21 Feb 2008 23:01:00 GMT

Look… to go through life and call it yours – your life – you first gave to get your own pain. Pain that’s unique to you. You can’t just dip into the common bin and sat ‘That’s enough!’… He’s done that. All right, he’s sick. He’s full of misery and fear. He was dangerous, and could be again, though I doubt it. But that boy has known a passion more ferocious than I have felt in any second of my life. And let me tell you something: I envy it.

Equus is playing at the King's Theatre for another two days. Go. Now.

He showed me all the various scented treasures on the ground

Thu, 21 Feb 2008 12:00:38 GMT

I was on a big ship. There was a dog, a rabid dog, and I had to try and restrain it. I wrapped my hands around its muzzle and squeezed it shut as hard as I could. Sometimes the dog was an adult, a fully grown collie and it would look at me with liquid eyes that asked why I was doing this to him. And then sometimes it would be a foetus and the white, hairless skin would be swollen from my hands. All the while it thrashed madly trying to bite me.

Eventually someone else came to look after the dog, and as I ran away I looked back and wondered if they understood how serious the situation was. I arrived home, and opened the front door to find a troupe of dogs sitting on the stairs, all staring at me.

*****************************

When I awoke this morning I felt as if I really had spent the entire night wrestling a dog.

Berwick

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 18:48:44 GMT

I've been thinking a lot about Berwick recently, and not just because of the family arguments that flared up over Hogmanay, or the recent news that the citizens of Berwick have declared that they want to defect to Scotland. I think it started when we went down for Shuna's wedding in October. When we were walking into town for the bus the next morning we took the nice route across the golf course. Then when Dan's mum died, as we hadn't wanted to stay in Wales for another day to register the death, and we couldn't do it in Scotland, Berwick was the obvious place to make a dash across the border. After we'd seen the registrar, we went for a walk around the walls and I was reminded of the things that I had actually liked about the town. I guess the eleven years that have passed since I made my frantic escape have dulled the edges on the unpleasant memories that have always tainted the place.

I used to live in the third house along from the bridge, the one with steps leading up to the front door. It's a converted granary. Mum and I moved there when I was thirteen, when she and my dad split up. It seemed like magic living there after the council scheme I'd spent the previous ten years in, where my dad still lives. Our flat was in the attic, and my bedroom had five walls and no right angles. On one side the ceiling started to slope up from waist height and all the beams were exposed. I painted it Yves Klein blue.

Last night I dreamed that I was walking along the Quayside and came to that building to discover that it had been demolished and replaced with a modern concrete and glass monstrosity. I was devastated. I always thought that I would feel quite happy if I never had to go back to Berwick and its oppressive small town atmosphere, but I don't really feel that way now. Last weekend when we went to stay with my schoolfriend Ellie and her husband, it felt good to see Berwick.

The January Review

Sat, 02 Feb 2008 18:04:10 GMT

How I've entertained myself through January...

Books
See if you can spot the one that's been put immediately for sale on Green Metropolis

The World According to Garp, John Irving
A page turner that made me want the London to Edinburgh train journey to be longer.

The Heart of a Dog, Mikhail Bulgakov
Surreal transplantations as an allegory for the Soviet condition

Family Matters, Rohinton Mistry
Bleak on a more intimate scale than A Fine Balance. I loved the little dig he managed to get in at critics of his previous novel

Self-Made Man, Norah Vincent
Urgh. Urgh. Urgh. I know you’re never meant to judge a book by its cover, but this one, with its picture of her looking smug as a woman and really unconvincing as a man made me predisposed to dislike it (It’s all Evs’ fault: it’s her book group choice). The basic premise is that she’s a journalist who spent a year living as a man to try and get to the heart of the difference between the genders. The first problem is that it’s really superficial. I’m sure I could have reached the same conclusions without gluing stubble to my face every day and wearing a dildo down my pants. She also makes sweeping statements that make the genders seem like two homogenous masses, and doesn’t take into account that the way people react to you is based on a hell of a lot more than just your sex. Some of her statements about the way ‘women’ are certainly don’t apply to my experience of womanhood, so how can I trust her judgement on the way men experience the world? The real point of it seemed to be the satisfaction she took when she revealed herself: ‘Ha ha, I’m really a woman…’ I could rant on for ages about this.

Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert
Flaubert’s writing is just a dream. Even if Emma Bovary is an annoying bint.

Bonjour Tristesse, Francoise Sagan
A book about growing up and taking responsibility for one’s actions.

Hunger, Knut Hamsun
I love this book. Its vividness is astonishing, and it’s hard to believe it was written 120 years ago.

Black Snow, Mikhail Bulgakov
This is very different from the other Bulgakov novels I’ve read. It’s a fictionalised account of his experience of writing a novel, and then having it produced as a play. The focus of this satire is Ivan Vasilievich, based on Stanislavsky – he of the famous ‘Method’ beloved of Brando et al.

The Kite Runner, Khaled Housseini
It struck me that the first part of this was essentially the same story as Bonjour Tristesse. It also seemed heavily influenced by another French novel, Les Miserables. It certainly has that epic 19thC novel feel of pulling you forward – I couldn’t put it down. But after finishing it, I felt kind of… empty. It’s quite manipulative, and too neatly drawn to generate any real emotions.

Films
Kung Fu Hustle.

Code 46
Possibly the best performance I’ve seen from Samantha Morton.

I’m Not There
The idea was good, but it left me cold. And there was far too much Bob Dylan music in it…

Charlie Wilson’s War
Interesting… it managed to point out the flaws in the US intervention in Afghanistan without rubbing your nose in it too much

Goodbye Lenin
La Vie en Rose
Both superb films that I’ve seen before… Marion Cotillard’s performance as Edith Piaf is amazing.

Sweeny Todd
Really enjoyable, wonderful visually, but like most of Tim Burton’s recent work, it’s not something I’m likely to watch again and again.

...and a play
The Glass Menagerie, Tennessee Williams (The Lyceum Theatre)
The Southern accents were pretty up and down – though infinitely better than the strange Deep South-North Yorkshire hybrids from the production of A Streetcar Named Desire that the Lyceum put on a couple of years ago – but otherwise a very good production. The lady sitting next to me told me she didn’t like the ‘out there’ set they used – “not right for such a traditional play!” – but I though that the broken glass and the disconcerting shadows created the perfect atmosphere. However, it suffered, as most plays do, from Old Lady With Boiled Sweets Syndrome. Is there a law that demands that once you reach a certain age you get issued with boiled sweets whenever you purchase a theatre ticket? And is it some deep-down instinct that knows when the most inappropriate moment to s-l-o-o-o-w-l-y unwrap them to produce the most intrusive noise possible?