I frankly thought this book was silly. It’s very light and took almost no time to read which is the only reason I bothered to finish it. The story is about Queen Elizabeth II deciding to leave home and move to the Caribbean. The “Press” reviewer called it a masterpiece of wit and drama, but all this passed me by.
“A silly fantasy, I thought
The Queen heads to a far off port.”
It’s not often that items in the “Press” move me to tears or make me shout for joy, but there were two items in today’s edition that provoked those reactions.
The first on page two was the victim impact statements of the parents of Jane Young who was killed in last year’s Edgeware Road tragedy. Seldom have I read such heart-rending compelling words. I would have put a link, but they don’t seem to be on the “Press” website, presumably because they were not written by reporters. A friend suggested that it was prurient of the “Press” to print them but I strongly disagree. No-one reading of the incredible grief these two have experienced could fail to be moved, or treat their stories with less than respect.
One outcome of the tragedy is that the parents no longer live together. Her father talks of surviving on grim stoicism and anti-depressants. He worries all the time about his wife and sons because who can be sure that another person won’t kill one or more of them? One son has left the country to avoid the place where he is known as the murder victim’s brother.
Jane’s mother talks of the agony of being forbidden to touch her daughter’s body because she was a homicide victim, and how the man responsible not only killed her daughter, he broke the mother’s heart, crushed her soul and extinguished her spirit.
These impact statements shock with their raw emotion, and leave an impression that far outweighs any of the articles about crime which the “Press” has recently been featuring. While I can barely imagine what these parents are going through I do take comfort in the fact that my work is focussed on building supportive communities, perhaps the only effective way that we can hope to reduce crime.
It was a relief to read on page five the report of the valedictory speech of Green M.P. Nandor Tanczos. Nandor would not have had a third parliamentary term if it hadn’t been for the premature death of Rod Donald, and serving these last three years has meant sacrificing time he might rather have chosen to spend with his infant child. Nandor spoke of how many politicians who entered Parliament with the best of intentions often lost their principles. He said Parliament ran on unnatural rhythms that did not take account of the living and breathing world. “When I look at the state of our rivers, and our people, and our lives, I don’t need a watch to tell me what time it is.” Saying this, he took out a hammer and smashed a pocket watch to pieces, earning a standing ovation. “After nine years it’s time to cleanse my soul” he said - and I whooped with delight at his honesty and real-ness.
“Two stories touched me deep today
Each honest in a different way.”
With regret I’ve decided to forgo my yoga class until spring. I’ve not missed a Wednesday morning for the past five months, but this morning’s experience led to my decision.
I left my warm bed soon after six, got myself ready and went outside. My old Honda Shuttle is parked on the roadside and as usual the windows were iced up. I filled a watering can, de-iced, them and started off. The windscreen immediately iced up again, I pushed the washer button, and nothing happened - presumably the washer tank was empty, or maybe iced up. Feeling quite unsafe I stopped, got the emergency water bottle out of the boot, and sloshed the windscreen with that. It cleared briefly but was soon re-icing, and I decided the best thing was to turn and head cautiously for home. I do have a de-mister, but it takes more than five minutes to warm the windscreen. I guess yoga will just have to wait until the sun starts to rise before 6.30 a.m.
“I’ve been a constant yoga buff
But icy mornings are too tough.”
This fascinating book is well written and thoroughly documented. The author has researched the social customs of the times in a way that few Shakespearean scholars have before.
I was fascinated to learn that Ann Hathaway came from a family who used Gardner as an alternative name. Perhaps we may be related? It’s wonderful to get a feminist perspective on matters such as the fact that William Shakespeare’s mother Mary “was the person who taught the most eloquent Englishman who ever lived the use of his native tongue.”
There’s a whole new perspective on the background to Shakespeare’s marriage and the influence it had on his writing. As a celebrant I was particularly interested in the details about Elizabethan marriage customs, and I enjoyed the snippets from Shakepeare’s writings.
I have to admit I didn’t finish this book. It was due back at the library, and while I’d have been willing to pay the fine for a few extra days, it would have taken longer than that. I do recommend it for anyone who enjoys language and/or history.
“Hist’ry’s been hard on Shakespeare’s wife
This book reveals her truer life.”
At the Art Gallery today Ariana Tikao performed in celebration of Matariki, the Maori New Year. She is incredibly talented, writing and singing songs which are specifically local, yet many have a universal theme. She and her accompanists played some Maori instruments, two women danced with long poi, and there was a backdrop of video images from around Banks Peninsula by Louise Potiki Brown.
It all made for an amazing experience. No-one could fail to be moved by her lament for a friend who’d taken her own life. This was followed by a song and graceful dance that were a plea for the protection of Canterbury waters to be protected - highly topical at present.
During March and April of this year Ariana was musician in residence at the University of London Centre for New Zealand Studies. We could surely have no better ambassador.
“Her music - different and sublime
Should not be missed at any time.”
Last night we went to see Prince Caspian, the second in the Narnia series.
Although it wasn’t my choice, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Sometimes it’s nice to see something simple where you absolutely know the goodies will win in the end. There were lovely shots of a New Zealand beach (Cathedral Cove on the Coromandel Peninsula), and some good animation. I just loved the mousketeers! There’s a message about the rewards of having faith that appealed too.
This skull caught my eye on the beach this morning - it reminded me of one of the characters in Prince Caspian.
“The good folk win out in the end
Because on faith you can depend.”
This book relates the stark reality of supporting a friend who is dying of cancer. Although the book is referred to on the cover as a novel, I heard the author interviewed and understand the story is a true one.
The love of the author for her friend shines through it all. She performs the most intimate practical tasks and manages to keep a sense of humour despite the desperately hard work. I would have liked to read more of the emotional side, but decided the book mirrored the need to concentrate on just getting through the days.
Reading this has made me appreciate even more the dedication of those who nurse the terminally ill. Real understanding of this part of life can come only with experience.
“When her friend came through her door
She knew not what she was in for.”
For the past ten days we’ve been in a state of chaos while the ceilings in our lounge and dining room were renewed. All the furniture from those two rooms had to be moved to other rooms, and that’s not easy in a tiny cottage.
These ceilings hadn’t been touched since the 1950’s, and they were covered in a heavy wallpaper which looked like pressed steel, but wasn’t. There were thin wooden battens over the paper.
Once this was stripped away, you could see the wood underneath, and we were able to have Batts (insulation) inserted.
The next day the gib board was up. This needed to be plastered and sanded, and the dust was terrible!
By yesterday it was all done, painted, and mouldings replaced. We’ve cleaned away most of the dust and are slowly restoring pictures, ornaments etc. It is such a relief to have our cottage almost back to normal, and we feel sure it’s warmer. Cleaning the dust off the books on the bookshelves may just have to wait a while.
“The whole place has been filled with dust
But proper ceilings were a must.”
‘The power to accurately observe is called cynicism by those who can’t do it.’ - a saying I heard today that appeals to me. I’ve no idea where it comes from.
“Sometimes a cynic I’ve been called
When I have made a statement bald.”
Next Saturday is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year.
This is the time when Persephone is in the underworld, and Demeter, the grain mother, has withdrawn her power from the crops, while she mourns her daughter.
At this time of year we draw inside ourselves. It is a time for waiting, dreaming, and planning.
You might light a candle to symbolise how our inner light shines in the darkness of winter. Gaze into the flame, and think about what you wish for the earth.
Perhaps you might echo this prayer to the sun, which comes from the Zuni, a native American tribe from the area of New Mexico:
‘Who among all creatures could live without the sun?
For its light brings day, warms and gladdens the Earth Mother.
The rain brings the water we drink
Together they cause the Earth Mother to yield abundantly.’
“Demeter turns her face away
But she’ll be back one fine spring day”
A suggestion for this time of year is to light a candle and
