Had real trouble getting anything out of this morning’s meditation, but here it is – such as it is – anyway:
Too many words
for me to carve
a journey through;
the meaning buzzes
round my ears
but does not penetrate
I stand immune
to wax, honey
or any memory
of the glorious hive
and must walk, today,
And, while I’m thinking of words, I must say that yesterday’s programme about John Donne was glorious in the sense that you get the man and his poetry – but who the heck was the idiot who decided that Fiona Shaw would be the best person to read Donne’s work??? Don’t get me wrong – I love Fiona Shaw. She’s a marvellously intellectual actress and I have a lot of time for her. But that’s just it – she’s intellectual and a woman. Donne’s poetry (whilst of course being intellectual) is straight-down-the-line passionate, physical and out-and-out male. It should have been read by someone like Antony Sher. He could have given it the welly and oomph it needed. Sigh.
Anyway, this morning I have been photocopying for Britain and sorting out next week’s potential disaster areas. Apart from that, it’s been hugely quiet in the office – which is nice but dull: Chaplaincy Ruth and Andrea are on half-term as usual, the boss and Ruth are on courses, so in the big room there’s only me. I think I might do a Scottish jig at some point and see if anyone notices. Mind you, the builder is around putting up shelves and dealing with our clock, so I don’t want to frighten him away …
At lunchtime, I braved the rain and walked into town – mainly to get a key cut and try to see if I have any money left. Surely it must be pay day soon? Oh, tomorrow: hurrah.
Tonight, I’ll pop into Gladys on the way home and run the gauntlet of her existential but ultimately ineffectual fury that I should dare to visit at all, and then it’s the joys of Springwatch and a programme on Milton. I hope they get someone more suited to Milton’s poetry to read it this time. We live in hope, eh. In the meantime, I continue on with my strangely intense short story about letters and deceit. And I’ve written a poem about teaspoons, as you do. Hey ho.
Also this evening, I'm taking part in the Eternal Press authors chat at the Rites of Romance Yahoo Group, so I've posted various details about and an extract from Painting from Life there and hope they enjoy the read. Plus Sophia who runs the group has got some excellent questions for us all, so I've enjoyed answering those - thanks, Sophia!
Today’s nice things:
2. Programmes about poets (no matter who reads the work, I’m grateful it’s there at all)
4. Short stories
5. Chatting about Painting from Life.
Anne Brooke - pondering poetry
Cancer Research Race for Life - improving women's health