Still Tired - for Now

Sorry I have not been in touch much. I haven't been following many blogs - including my own. And, my Blogger site's been buggy lately, taking up to half a minute to post a comment. 

Talking of buggy, the bug I've had makes its victims feel tired for weeks after the symptoms have disappeared, or so the doctor says.   Am I sitting around because of that, I wonder, or because inactivity has fed on itself and turned me lazy?   T.'s been more energetic than me, so that's encouraged me to go out, visit a few people, and take a few photos, including these art deco style tree-trunk shadows.     

Sending so much time indoors means I've been too much on Twitter, and I hate it because everyone's become so political - including me. Every day some new mad and disturbing thing seems to happen and I can't help wondering where it will all end.   

I'm glad to say, though that we've begun doing a little Tai Chi. One of our daughters is an expert and just made us a little video of 8 minutes-worth to practice each day. It doesn't sound much but feels surprisingly good, with the graceful,  purposeful movements helping one's focus on the here and now.  Burning incense has been a pleasant discovery, too - the smoke makes endlessly fascinating shapes.

Oh, and I've finished Helen Dunmore's "Birdcage Walk" which I mentioned last post.  Great characters, story and plot - but what I liked best of all was the vivid picture it gave of 18th century life in Bristol.  I've been trying to write some historical fiction myself so I know how hard it can be to include period detail without seeming to give a history lesson.  Life over 100 years ago was so comprehensively different from now that unless you explain the background, you risk giving quite the wrong impression.   

For instance, lets say your plot needs your 3 year old son to drink a large glass of beer.  In a modern novel, this might seem like a problem for your little lad, and probably a problem for you, too. But in the late 18th century, right into the 19th, it was common for children to drink alcoholic drinks.  They often drank large quantities a weak type of beer known as "small-beer" which was more wholesome than the fresh water then available.  Not only is beer more nourishing than water (for as we know, alcohol contains a lot of calories) but the alcohol content made the beer healthier than water from a sewage-laced stream or rubbish filled well.    

But ... would you really want to explain all that background just to move your plot on?  The temptation is to change the storyline so that you're the one drinking the beer - or cut beer out of the plot altogether!  So, if you read Dunmore's novel, notice how cleverly she's worked in the period detail.  

My current reading is quite different. It's  Mohsin Hamid's "The Reluctant Fundamentalist."  The text consists of a conversation the Arab narrator has with an unknown Westerner in an Arab town.   In fact, it's one half of a conversation, because the only person we hear is the narrator himself, talking about his life, what has happened in his past and what is going on around him now.  

As he speaks, pleasantly, politely and gently, we start to see how a bright, thoughtful and successful young man might give up everything to be a fundamentalist.  We can't hate him, and everything that happens during the conversation seems quite innocuous, easily understandable, easily explained.... And yet.... and yet.... 

Well, let me just say that I ended up thinking pretty hard about the book after I had finished it. I'd better not say more, in case you decide to read it. 

We had tickets booked for a concert at London's Roundhouse, and of course we went along to that. This well known venue was a steam locomotive turntable shed in ye olden days before first falling derelict and then being restored.  We saw a somewhat peculiar performance of Monteverdi's "The Return of Ulysses." It was interesting, though, and the Roundhouse is a fabulous venue. Here is a picture of its interior in railway days, complete with tracks and engines. 

This is how the ceiling looks now, complete with theatre fittings and lights. Can you see that the wrought iron pillars dividing the tracks in the old picture, are still visible in the modern picture? 

This is a view from the bar showing some of the exterior with a view down the road - lots of atmosphere. I wonder what those engine drivers would think to see it now. 

I hope I've saved up enough energy for a house guest arriving tomorrow, and Middle A coming to stay overnight for a birthday outing at the weekend, plus another house guest next week.   I think it'll be fine. And I am gradually making my way around blogs, and I'll try to reach yours soon.  Have a good weekend!  

Canal Distraction

My older daughter's decided to ignore the EU referendum, since she feels her peace of mind is worth more. The torrents of emotive words cascading from  TV, radio, emails and the internet are quite disturbing, but thank goodness most people I meet face to face are fed up of it all too, so it doesn't get discussed much.      

Exercise is a good distraction, but the weather has not smiled on us - mainly dark clouds or torrential downpours - ah, the English summer!  But one day it was sunny and we got in a bike ride from Camden Lock to Hackney Marshes via the Regents Canal.  And how nice it was! This canal has always been full of quirky things to see, and has been rapidly changing of late.

Anyway, this time, the first new thing that met my eyes at Camden Lock was Amy Winehouse and God, (I suppose), who was directing angels to carry Amy up to heaven.

She looks relieved, I'd say.

She looks happy about it, which is good.      A little further down the canal, I reached a canal bridge.  The picture below was taken in 2010, and shows the view as it was then. These evocative gasometers were seen beyond the Camley St. wildlife park, with the pinnacle of St Pancras to the right.

In 2012 the same scene looked like this (below). The gasometers were gone, they were being moved over to the other side of the river  to have - yes - luxury flats, of course,  built inside them,  

And NOW, here's the photo I took the other day showing that those flats are complete. To me they seem to make nothing of the wonderful shape of the gasometers.  

.

However, a tiny circular park has been built inside one of the gasometers.  You're not allowed to sit on the grass - well, I hope THAT will change!  and it is surrounded by mirrored pillars and a pierced roof covering the path. I quite liked it but couldn't help wondering whose job it will be to polish all the mirrors after they've been out in the rain for a few months!

It's always fun seeing the narrowboats on London canals.  A nice thing about them is how you can use the roof as a sort of garden, like this blue haired lady relaxing with her book.

Maybe she got it from the boat bookshop

It has a cosy old fashioned feel to it, inside, and the books aren't expensive.

A bit further down, there was a mini garden for mini children, their tiny shoes were neatly ranged along the side, with a washable Astroturf lawn.

These plants were growing in boots and shoes. I was trying to decide what I'd plant in the ladies shoes on the right but then discovered that I don't actually like the idea of plants growing in shoes. I don't know why, really.. 

Had to smile at these kids, it was obviously their first time on the water and they were paddling themselves into walls and into the side of bridges, and into each other, but having a great time.  

They probably came from the Pirate Castle.  (this mosaic was snapped in 2012, I hope it's still there)

Their HQ is actually shaped like a castle..

There are some fabulous mosaics along the canal, but my favourites were always the Laburnum Rd School mosaics. When I first went down the canal, they were intact and glittering.  Over the years, they fell into disrepair, and the wall on which they were mounted has started to fall to bits and get overgrown. I've searched for photos of them in their prime - I know I took some - but even though my filing system is good, I can't find them.  I felt a bit like an archaeologist  uncovering the ruins of some wonderful civilisation.  These are two of the Laburnum Road kids, still just about visible.

The mosaic pieces were particularly beautiful, all kinds of shades and mother of pearl.

Trees have grown on top of these walls, so their roots run right along the wall, looking weirdly like the trees have feet....  or tentacles

like Kang and Kodos in the Simpsons...

At Islington, the canal goes through a long tunnel. 

Two narrowboats can pass each other in the tunnel with a few inches to spare.  In the days when the boats were pulled by horses, the boy that led the horse would lead the horse to the other end of the tunnel, and the boatmen would leg it through - lying on their backs on the top of the boat, pushing at the roof and/or sides of the tunnel with their legs. 

I've always liked old forgotten places, and I'm fond of this mostly derelict group of houses as you approach Hackney.  

The bow fronts of the ones on the right show that they were once part of a bow fronted Regency terrace

It would have looked a bit like these houses (they're not in London but are built in that style..)  I think they'd have been charming in 1825. Very Jane Austen. Now the place is a coach depot. I think it's beyond rescue, though there is always hope (and pizza)

We left the Regents Canal at Victoria Park, Hackney.  It's a good park, but I'll write about the onward journey some other time.  We did spot someone settled in for the day in the park with his laptop, papers, phone and in fact entire office. He said that he preferred working in the park to being inside.

And just where we left the canal, I spotted a moorhen flying along with a large orange carrier bag in its beak. By the time I'd go the camera out, it had returned to the water. It busily dragged the bag behind a boat and left it there.  I don't suppose moorhens really have a litter patrol, so  wondered what it thought it was doing!

I'll leave you with some music by Bela Fleck. I have a really ambivalent feeling about this music. I honestly don't know if I love it or hate it, so it suits my mood of uncertainty at the moment. I'll certainly be very glad when the referendum is over, so we know what we will be living with.

Camden Gothick

London's weather continues dark, and nights are drawing in more, but there are rewards.   Jon, who writes a wonderful quirky blog from Tennessee, has sometimes posted about the Victorian night-painter Atkinson Grimshaw but I don't recollect that Grimshaw ever applied his gothic skills to St. Pancras, above. It is one of the Borough of Camden's architectural gems, which we passed on the way back from the Old Queens Head in Islington.  He should have painted it, I thought, as I snapped this photo though the windscreen.

We'd met N. at the Old Queens Head to see the folk guitarist Martin Simpson. It is a very popular pub with lots of atmosphere, but if I said the decor of the Bell was weird in my last post, it was nothing on the Old Queen's Head. It is like a stage set, and represents a decaying Victorian hostelry, I suppose, though parts of this fireplace look hundreds of years older.  Note the antler chandelier.

The gig was up a flight of battered narrow stairs, apparently papered with the remains of old and hideous wallpaper, plastered over and peeling off.  Then N. pointed out that the design included the Gherkin office building (top left) and someone being mugged.  The paper is new. 

:)

Martin Simpson is a phenomenal folk guitarist and wonderful raconteur. Although I am not a particular fan of the type of music he sings, I enjoyed the evening a lot, and the gig was packed.  The Green Note (in the picture) which presented him, is actually a small music venue in Camden Town, which features many original and interesting singers.  

It is in Parkway, and coincidentally that area is right by the locations of two movies I also saw. Parkway adjoins Gloucester Crescent, the setting for  "The Lady with The Van" (an amazing Oscar-worthy performance from Maggie Smith). It's based on a true story of how a homeless woman parked her derelict van in Alan Bennett (the playwright)'s front garden in 1974  and stayed for 15 years. It is a touching, clever film with stunning sets and costumes.

I have a friend who used to live in Gloucester Crescent and she said that they all tried to be sympathetic to her, but the smell and fuss was sometimes hard to deal with - and when the film company moved their old van into the same driveway, there was initially a frisson of panic amongst the residents who remembered her!

The other movie, "Amy," was a documentary partly filmed in Inverness St, which runs into Gloucester Crescent.  It chillingly conveys how destructive fame can be.    Tony Bennett said in the film that she should have been cherished, to help her blossom as one of the world's great jazz singers - but as we know, that didn't happen, and she was exploited instead.

I thought my daughter, who watched the movie with me, had seemed a bit emotional during the film. After, she told me that when she was a teenager she'd hung out with Amy and several other people who appeared in the film, including Amy's boyfriend/husband, at the Good Mixer pub.  If she mentioned them then, I hadn't known, probably because Amy was just another singer in those days. 

   She said Amy was unpretentious and fun, but she mixed with some screwed up people. She said she once asked Amy's boyfriend if he thought he was a psychopath.  Not because of what ultimately happened with Amy, (that was still in the future.)  He said "Yes, I think I'm probably a psychopath." Hm.  

Anyway, seeing these faces from her youth in such a harrowing film had shaken her up. 

It got me thinking.  I had quite an interesting youth but somehow never managed to mix with anyone who became well known - not even the lady in the van, in the days when she was there and I used to live just 10 minutes walk from Gloucester Crescent myself!   

What about you?