Weekly Photo Challenge
When I first learned the prompt for this week’s challenge couldn’t think clearly let alone think about an image that encapsulates such a flighty subject.
Over the years have found making friends a serious business. I have never been sure how some friendships last and others fail. Until recently when I discovered that ‘making’ friends is not the answer. The secret is to ‘be’ a friend and then leave the rest to fate. Also, having a true relationship with anyone is not possible unless we can achieve a loving relationship with ourselves.
In a photograph we can only capture a moment of friendship and then we experience a ripple as when a pebble drops in a pool.
I would like to have taken such a photograph; but I will settle for this
this very friendly gesture …
Silent Sunday ….
What do we wear for lounging; to look cool just in case we have to ‘pop out’ for a Pimms, the Queen drops in; just in case we have to dead-head the roses or we do feel proper poorly?
So let me explain why I find myself in a position to ask such a question.
During and since the extra Bank Holiday I have been unwell; not just under the weather but proper poorly, with fluctuating temperature and headache. I should not have gone to work. One, for my own well-being and two, the health of others; spreading germs to the rest of the working team is not good practice.
As library assistant my weekly attendance in the Reading Room is paramount. The Reading Room rota is guarded by the archivist and it is a tight ship. Should I be absent or indeed anyone else during holiday time her job to fill the empty slots would be difficult and I was not going to rock any boats. I was not going to be responsible for the downfall of the Reading Room rota, this was again is ‘not healthy’
Also, I have an unhealthy regard for my job (along with most of my colleagues whom I respect utterly) I think I am the only person who can do it! For instance my new found task ‘twitter monitor.’ Each Tuesday and Wednesday, it is my duty to select an item and make a contribution or start a conversation in cyberspace; which I enjoy but take very seriously. Although I had been cut short because of the Diamond Jubilee; I was able to show a book, that had been recently acquired for a forth coming exhibition of Lady Bird Books, with a beautiful dust jacket. At Special Collections we love dust jackets. I thought about doing something regal but that was only fleeting as I am not a royalist. I was pleased to have the extra day’s holiday; so to Queenie I give halfhearted thanks. So nice to have a day’s leave but the work still needs to be done either before or after. So as a result I become so exhausted my resistance to infection was lowered and I fell foul to a dirty cold.
So on Friday I succumbed to the fever and stayed in bed. However I did get better. Which brings me rather late to the point of the exercise; being a lady of fashion …
What does one wear while lounging in June when it feels as if it is November?
Are well, I feel the temperature rising and the need for yet another cup of tea and to be tucked up in bed.
To be discussed.
Friday’s library snapshot (s)
It was quiet in the Reading Room on Wednesday afternoon it was half term and there were a few children enjoying the break in the weather and running around the garden after visiting the museum. Inside there were a couple of students doing what they needed to; perhaps making finishing touches to end of term essays. There were some people looking at books about land tax and hearth tax; they too didn’t need me. So I did something I had been meaning to do for ages. I took a couple of pictures of the tiles that surround the two fire places in the Reading Room. Although they are tucked away in the reading room they do attract a bit of attention.
And you can see why:
These tiles in the fireplace were designed by William de Morgan (1839-1917) who was the most important ceramic artist of the Arts and Crafts Movement. A life-long friend of the designer and writer William Morris, designed tiles, stained glass and furniture for the firm Morris and Company. His tiles were based on medieval designs or Persian patterns, he experimented with innovative glazes and firing techniques. These tiles feature an Islamic- inspired design.
These tiles surrounding the fire place in the staircase hall are 19th century tin-glazed hand-painted Dutch tiles imported by Thomas Elsly of Great Portland Street, London.
These tiles in the fireplace behind the reading room desk are also by William de Morgan and are known as New Persian.
A Poem ….
With the memories of a holiday fresh in our mind.
With all its foreign ways its beauty and intrigue
The taste, lustre and fatigue
The monuments, museums libraries
And kilo cafes
We cannot repeat Carmen or Tarsila can we?
The people watching;
Learning of the cariocas; the flip-flop brigade
Of the havaianas variety only.
While they are undressed for the sun’s harmful rays
Their dogs are dressed to kill
The poorness the richness,
Of Rio Sul and Rio Norte
The sipping of coconut water and delicious manioc cake
When do we put the memory aside and plan the next foray?
Wednesday’s wise woman … Odetta
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6iZj6P-bkcY
I was listening to Tom Jones on the radio recently promoting his latest album Spirit in the room; an album of covers. During the programme he sang two tracks from the cd one written by Leonard Cohen called Tower of love and the other song Hit and Miss by Odetta. Although I did not like Tom Jones’ versions particularly; it reminded me of musician that I had long forgotten; Odetta Holmes (1930-2008). She is often referred to as the voice of the American Civil Rights Movement. Martin Luther King Jr. called her the queen of American folk music. However I believe her musical gamut was much broader. She trained as an opera singer from the age of 13; and performed folk, jazz, blues and spirituals as well as songwriting and playing various musical instruments.
Odetta influenced many musical legends such as Harry Belafonte and Bob Dylan. Janis Joplin imitated her blues style. Carly Simons admitted going weak at the knees when she had the opportunity to meet her at Greenwich Village.
My first encounter of Odetta her was when Eric Clapton recorded Sometimes I feel like a motherless child on his album Ocean Boulevard in 1974 and Clapton made reference to her version of the song in an interview later. Although it had been recorded much earlier by Paul Robson in 1930. The song of unknown origin, dating back as far as 1870s is a traditional negro spiritual and possibly relates to the story of a child who had been born and then removed from her mother’s breast and sold into slavery. It might also be a song of a man or a woman sold into slavery and yearning for his or her homeland homeland or heaven. Either way a this poignant expression of grief and despair should not be so shabbily rocked, jazzed, popped or blues up!!
Although I am grateful to the likes of Ike and Tina Turner, Lou Rawls, and Richie Havens who sang it at Woodstock in 1969 and of course Odetta who made it her signature tune and sang it in 2008 just before she died – for the gentle reminder that violation of human rights is still happening.
Firewood … part 1
The fetching of the daily pinta, bread and collecting of firewood during the winter was among the most important daily tasks. Firewood was the vital life giving commodity for cooking, heating and fuel to run the generator that conducted energy into the radio battery. Each morning and evening my father would listen for any weather warnings so that he could ensure all the boats on the jetty would be safely moored, ropes too tight or loose could result in mayhem and wreckage. A daily foray was of imperative.
We would pull on wellington boots with a silent prayer ‘may they be warm or at least dry?’ Often our boots were wet from a previous expedition when we had missed a footing and got boot full of a frozen wetness –Yuk! It would take ages to dry thoroughly.
With a resigned grin we allowed our mother to button us up, tie a scarf over our heads and firmly under our chins. With the preparation complete and the idea for me became an adventure and my sister indignant at being withdrawn from the comfort of home soon warmed to the idea with the promise of tea and cake when we returned. My favourite was Battenberg, a pretty chequered pink-and-yellow sponge wrapped in marzipan but today it was a Joly roll a jam Swiss roll a poor alternative for the day before payday!
We heard my mother’s departing command ‘Don’t take long, be back before dark and don’t come back until you find some’ with no wasted affection, this was law; to disrespect the Hamble, her tides and our mother was to fail. The wind and tide was fearsome match for us girls – she warns again that the tide will be in soon and cut us off if we did not hurry back.
Like soldiers out on a sortie we two marched out into the late afternoon, as the pale sun moved lower in the sky. From our home, we took the familiar path with a positive stride one behind the other until it met the lane that ended on the fore-shore.
Weekly Photo Challenge … Today
I am a new blogger.
When will I stop saying that?
When will I come of age?
When will I no longer need to apologise in advance for my blogging misdemeanors?
Perhaps today?
I was planning a trip to find some light – silence yesterday today light!
To take a fine picture to encapsulate the day … a bank holiday!!
Some hopes I have a stinking cold!
I feel like a Zombie … I feel like a zombie looks!
Its raining, cold and there is no light
So here are some pictures I took this morning
Just in case I didn’t get further than the front gate.
The not so Silent Sunday
Point me to silence.
Show me silence.
This morning I tried to find silence.
To be silent
My mind chattered
My husband quietly didn’t snore for a moment.
The sleeping child next door
like the weeds in my garden grew.
We cannot grow silently
Did this rain drop – silently?
Did this spider spin -silently?
I think not.
Library snapshot on Friday
In preparation for an Exhibition to be displayed in the foyer of the Museum of English Rural Life I retrieved a few Dust Covers by Charles Mozley, Edward Bawden and Barnett Freeman.
Coat Hanger Doll's House 