Thursday 27 November 2008

My favourite Claude Monet paintings

Such a beautiful garden...it makes me wish that I was there... *sigh*


Garden Path, Giverny by Claude Monet




The Artist's Garden at Giverny - Claude Monet (1900)

Artists Bio...
Claude Monet

Troilus and Crisyde

by Geoffrey Chaucer

`If no love is, O god, what fele I so?
And if love is, what thing and whiche is he!
If love be good, from whennes comth my wo?
If it be wikke, a wonder thinketh me,
Whenne every torment and adversitee
That cometh of him, may to me savory thinke;
For ay thurst I, the more that I it drinke.

The full version...
Troilus and Crisyde

Poet info...
Geoffrey Chaucer Bio

In Three Days

by Robert Browning

So, I shall see her in three days
And just one night, but nights are short,
Then two long hours, and that is morn.
See how I come, unchanged, unworn!
Feel, where my life broke off from thine,
How fresh the splinters keep and fine---
Only a touch and we combine!

Too long, this time of year, the days!
But nights, at least the nights are short.
As night shows where ger one moon is,
A hand's-breadth of pure light and bliss,
So life's night gives my lady birth
And my eyes hold her! What is worth
The rest of heaven, the rest of earth?

O loaded curls, release your store
Of warmth and scent, as once before
The tingling hair did, lights and darks
Outbreaking into fairy sparks,
When under curl and curl I pried
After the warmth and scent inside,
Thro' lights and darks how manifold---
The dark inspired, the light controlled
As early Art embrowns the gold.

What great fear, should one say, "Three days
"That change the world might change as well
"Your fortune; and if joy delays,
"Be happy that no worse befell!
''What small fear, if another says,
"Three days and one short night beside
"May throw no shadow on your ways;
"But years must teem with change untried,
"With chance not easily defied,
"With an end somewhere undescried.
''No fear!---or if a fear be born
This minute, it dies out in scorn.
Fear? I shall see her in three days
And one night, now the nights are short,
Then just two hours, and that is morn.

poet info...
Robert Browning Bio

Wednesday 26 November 2008

Lucy Gray [or Solitude] by William Wordsworth


In memory of my maternal grandmother
(this was one of her favourite poems)

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray,
And when I cross'd the Wild,
I chanc'd to see at break of day
The solitary Child.

No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wild Moor,
The sweetest Thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!

You yet may spy the Fawn at play,
The Hare upon the Green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

"To-night will be a stormy night,
You to the Town must go,
And take a lantern, Child, to light
Your Mother thro' the snow."

"That, Father! will I gladly do;
'Tis scarcely afternoon—
The Minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the Moon."

At this the Father rais'd his hook
And snapp'd a faggot-band;
He plied his work, and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.

Not blither is the mountain roe,
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse, the powd'ry snow
That rises up like smoke.

The storm came on before its time,
She wander'd up and down,
And many a hill did Lucy climb
But never reach'd the Town.

The wretched Parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;
But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlook'd the Moor;
And thence they saw the Bridge of Wood
A furlong from their door.

And now they homeward turn'd, and cry'd
"In Heaven we all shall meet!"
When in the snow the Mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.

Then downward from the steep hill's edge
They track'd the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn-hedge,
And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they cross'd,
The marks were still the same;
They track'd them on, nor ever lost,
And to the Bridge they came.

They follow'd from the snowy bank
The footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank,
And further there were none.

Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living Child,
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome Wild.

O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.

Some Sam West Videos

Here are two videos I have on my youtube page...

One of my favourite scenes in Howard's End...
Leonard Bast reciting poetry

My edited version of Sam's brief role in Van Helsing...
Victor Frankenstein

Bush Visit Descends into Violence

I was at this demonstration and I witnessed the Police brutality first hand and have pictures and video to prove it. Thankfully I wasn't attacked, but I didn't feel safe. I saw people get jumped upon and rugby tackled and flipped up into the air with the force of impact by riot police who used photograph identification to pick out those who screamed and shouted their frustration when being hit by metal batons near the front of the barriers. Where I was standing with some journalists a line of riot police stood on the other side of the barrier and raised their batons ready for the order to attack us. It was very frightening indeed.

Here's a link to a conference about that event by Stop The War Coalition...

Press conference: demonstrators at Bush visit speak of violence and arrests

I just can't believe how bad this government has got. I remember the days when protesters were allowed to voice their grievances. I used to go on demos with my Mum and sisters as kids. We would travel the country to attend marches and by night we would be allowed to sleep on bare floors inside various buildings in our sleeping bags by the owners. It was an adventure. I remember once when a huge group of feminists including my Mum and us had a clash with police outside Margaret Thatcher's London residence. The tv cameras were there, and we had our pictures taken with banners hung around our necks. The police in those days allowed us to do that peacefully. My Mum was also friends of Celia Stubbs who was the girlfriend of Blair Peach. And she also took part in several tv documentaries about Womens rights too. A pity things have changed since then with the government. And to think I helped by voting them into office. Well never again! Typical that not much of this Bush demo was televised at the time which can only mean one thing. Dictatoral censorship. They are no better than the terrorists they point their fingers at. Far more dangerous than just hypocrites. God forbid we ever get on their wrong side again!

And in the famous words of William Wallace...

"There's a difference between us. You
think the people of this country exist to
provide you with position. I think your
position exists to provide those people
with freedom. And I go to make sure that
they have it."

Tuesday 25 November 2008

Ancient Greeks pre-empted Dead Parrot Sketch

Yahoo news Friday, November 14 11:21 am

For those who believe the ancient Greeks thought of everything first, proof has been found in a 4th century AD joke book featuring an ancestor of Monty Python's Dead Parrot sketch where a man returns a parrot to a shop, complaining it is dead. The 1,600-year-old work entitled "Philogelos: The Laugh Addict," one of the world's oldest joke books, features a joke in which a man complains that a slave he has just bought has died, its publisher said onFriday. "By the gods," answers the slave's seller, "when he was with me, he never did any such thing!" In a comedy act Monty Python's Flying Circus sketch, first aired in 1969 and regularly voted one of the funniest ever, the pet-shop owner says the parrot, a "Norwegian Blue," is not dead, just "resting" or "pining for the fjords. "The English-language book will appeal to those who swear that the old jokes are the best ones. Many of its 265 gags will seem strikingly familiar, suggesting that sex, dimwits, nagging wives and flatulence have raised laughs for centuries.

FAR-FETCHED CLOAK

In many of the jokes, a slow-witted figure known as the "student dunce" is the butt of the jokes. In one, the student dunce goes to the city and a friend asks him to buy two 15-year-old slaves: "No problem,' responds the dunce. "If I don't find two 15-year-olds, I'll get one 30-year-old.' In another, someone asks to borrow the student's cloak to go down to the country. "I have a cloak to go down to your ankle, but I don't have one that reaches to the country," he replies. The manuscript is attributed to a pair of ancient comedians called Hierocles and Philagrius. Little is known about them except that they were most likely the compilers of the jokes, not the original writers. The multi-media e-book, which can be purchased online (www.yudu.com/oldestjokebook), features veteran comedian Jim Bowen, 71, reviving the lines before a 21-century audience. "Jim Bowen brings them back from the dead. It's like Jurassic Park for jokes," Richard Stephenson, CEO of digital publisher YUDU, said in a statement. For Bowen, much of the material seemed very familiar: "One or two of them are jokes I've seen in peoples' acts nowadays, slightly updated: they put in a motor car instead of a chariot."Other one-liners in Philogelos may baffle a modern audience, such as a series of jokes about a lettuce, which only make sense in light of the ancient belief it was an aphrodisiac.

Monday 24 November 2008

Rats return to Hamelin, no sign of Pied Piper

Yahoo news Tuesday, November 18 05:08 pm

Just ahead of the 725th anniversary of the Pied Piper reputedly banishing a plague of rats from Hamelin, there has been an "explosion" in the German town's rodent population, officials said Tuesday. The spokesman for the northern town, known as Hameln in German, said the sharp rise at an abandoned garden allotment site on the edge of the town was because the rats had a plentiful supply of food from an adjacent rubbish dump. According to legend, a colourful or "pied" rat catcher lured all the rats out of town in 1284 by playing his pipe. When the townspeople refused to pay him, he did the same with Hamelin's children and they were never seen again.

What's in a name...if it's the same?

I've been trying to sort out my Dad's side of the family research but I am now getting quite confused. I have just discovered that a lot of my late grandmothers paternal side have exactly the same name! Father and son...even uncles and cousins are named John Little. What on earth possessed them to not choose an alternative? Is it some sort of family tradition to see how many John Little's you can fit onto one family tree? The mystery deepens. A cousin of my fathers has tried to help me understand who belongs to what branch but my mind has gone all frazzled and I'm beginning to think it's best to maybe concentrate on the maternal side for the time being and hope that my Dad doesn't notice!

Saturday 22 November 2008

Family Reunion Review November 2008


Sam West as Harry Monchesney

Last night I went along to see Sam's new play 'Family Reunion' at the Donmar Warehouse here in London. From the moment I saw the stage layout I knew this was going to be some show. The set looked very eerie like a scene out of the movie 'The Others' with the sound of birdlike noises enimating from above the stage. The atmosphere made one feel like they were being transported inside someone elses dream, and the constant ticking of the clock in various scenes reinforced that feeling. The characters did a superb job, but most of all I thought Sam's character Harry was the best (and I'm not just being biased here) The story of Harry was a very interesting one. A person haunted by phantoms of the past. A troubled soul trying to make sense of things seen and unseen. I really loved the intensity of Sam's performance as well as his costumes...and the hair! This play 'Family Reunion' has a fantastic story. It's the 1st time I had seen anything by TS Eliot and I wasn't disappointed. I do have tickets to see this show again, and I am very much looking forward to it. I highly recommend this play to anyone who is thinking of going. It really is that spectacular. Well done to Sam...I hope this brings him much success.

Wednesday 12 November 2008

Waste Review and Q&A event 2008


The Almeida theatre poster of Waste

The play...

After a longish absence, I was pleased to learn that Sam West was to be directing another play in London. This time it was to be called Waste. A revival of the Harley Granville Barker play which was originally written in 1907 but then banned and wasn't performed on the London stage until 1936. It was about a Political sex scandal and the church. A good mixture for one of Sam's shows. I went to see it with an open mind not knowing what to expect. It was a very heavy play that made concentration difficult. So many words crammed into every sentence. I thought the story to be quite a tragic one, and I felt for the character Amy O'Connell. I also wanted to secretly wring Henry Trebell's neck...until that is he got all suicidal at the end and topped himself. I felt sorry for him then. The set design was very impressive and stunning to look at, and the costumes were intriguing.

The Q&A...

The evening of the Q&A was very ominous. On my way to the theatre I was soaked right through after forgetting my umbrella at home. *doh* There were thunder and lightening flashes in the sky which at some point turned into snow! I was glad to get inside the place where I met up with an old friend who I last saw in Sheffield. I felt chilled to the bone because the theatre wasn't very warm at all. I sat through another performance of Waste shivering. At the very end for some reason the staff forgot to remind the audience about the Q&A and at one point there were only a small amount of people left in their seats! I was half expecting to be turfed out of the building as well. But thankfully all was not lost. A woman (whoever she was) told us to sit back down etc etc. A few more people came back inside and soon the cast were joined by Sam onstage. The seats were in a long line and positioned to face the audience. I cannot recall everything that was said during the Q&A because by that point I had symptoms of hypothermia. (I hate the cold) The evening was very good despite that Minor hiccup, and lots of questions were asked. When it was finished I was surprised to see how late it was and I reluctantly ventured out into the slushy snow outside, where I bid farewell to my friend. I then managed to get myself to a bus stop in Essex Rd without falling flat on my face. My only regret was not being brave enough to ask any questions like...CAN SOMEONE TURN THE BLOODY HEATING ON NOW PLEASE! I did have other questions too...honest!