I'm not really sure I was fully in the mood for last night's concert, though I did think that the choir sang magnificently. Suffice it to say that Belshazzar's Feast isn't a piece I'd rush to turn the radio on for, but I have to admit it was a bold choice beautifully conveyed. Oh, and in case anyone's asking, I do think Delius is dull. Sorry, but that's just how I find him. If only A Walk to the Paradise Gardens could be remixed as a Jog to the Park, and I might be a tad less bored by it. Just a thought ...
Mind you, I did write a poem entirely based on a brief conversation between Lord H and myself while the applause was continuing, so the concert did have unexpected bonuses. It's still making us chuckle:
The varieties of men
The conductor turns
to take a bow.
"A wonderful homage
to the benefits
of Grecian 2000,"
you whisper.
"At least he has hair enough
for the attempt," say I.
"Ah, Death before Dishonour,"
you reply.
Anyway, this morning, Lord H and I have hit our way through a bucket or two of balls at the golf range, as per the Physio's instructions. And my shoulder is doing okay so far, I think. Shame the same can't be said about my golf swing. I was so enthusiastic about my first attempt with the wood that I knocked my own golf bag over in the backswing. Ah the shame ...
This afternoon, I have caught up on last night's wonderful "Outnumbered" (surely one of the best and most natural comedies on TV) and the glitter and pizzazz of Strictly Come Dancing. Wow, what a show! Austin's tango was truly shit-hot and the best thing I've seen on the programme so far. More than equal to Cherie's rhumba of a few weeks ago. Tom was pretty damn good too with his salsa, which was neat, bright and very very sharp. And even John & Kristina's American Smooth was his best dance so far. Very endearing indeed. I must say I didn't like Rachel's rhumba though - it didn't deserve all those 10s. To my mind. Certainly not a patch on Cherie's!
In the midst of all that, I've bumbled away with the continuing adventures of Ralph and his family emeralds in Hallsfoot's Battle. He's not fully in control of their mysterious power at the moment, but then again neither am I (haven't got a fecking clue, my dears ...) so I can't really blame him. Anyway, it now stands at 56,000 words, so we're getting there. Somewhere ...
Tonight, I was thinking of going to meet some of the people at Spirited Exchanges (a group of people who struggle with church, basically) as the venue is near Guildford for the first ever time. But I do so hate meeting new people, it's a Sunday night when I should be huddled up in front of the TV and I've a busy week ahead, so really I just can't face it. I might do better in the new year when the nights are lighter, but we'll see. So my Spiritual Points are at an all time low (again), but at least I've written another poem - based on this morning's brief Bible reading. I'm stuck in Moses' temple decor and the parable of the sower at the moment. Not an obvious mix for sure:
Meditation 1
My head is filled
by gold candlesticks
and silence;
measurements; regulations;
and the wild sowing
of untested seed.
The heart’s strange pastures
bloom yellow, unaccountably striped
with sin.
And, of course, I mustn't forget this week's haiku:
My neigbour's garden:
a sea of leaves, russet-gold.
More than trees may hold.
Today's nice things:
1. Golf practice
2. Poetry
3. TV
4. Writing.
Anne Brooke
Anne's website - getting into the rhythm ...
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