It rained.
It rains.
It will rain.
Not a good couple of days these lat couple of days, but there is always a band of light somewhere shining on the sea; that gleam of sun which Wales so often denied for weeks on end!
As if to match the weather the pollo from the place that we get Sunday lunch was sub standard as well.
And we didn’t win the Once.
There is just so much one can take; as long as one can dilute it with a little Rioja!
The good news, as relayed on my internet radio was the astonishing news that Wales had beaten England at Twickenham in the opening game of the Five, sorry, Six Nations Championship! I don’t want to be defeatist, but the tried and test scenario is now for Wales to burgeon with impossible self confidence, start talking immediately of The Triple Crown and convince themselves that the winning of The Grand Slam is a mere formality. Then comes the period of bitter recrimination when it doesn’t happen. I can imagine it all!
What this victory does do is that it allows me to enter school with head held high and look my English colleagues in the face. As we have Scots and Irish among the staff I feel there will be a group feeling of solidarity!
‘The Lovely Bones’ by Alice Sebold was en engaging read. The opening sentences: “My name was Salmon, like the fish; first name Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered on December 6, 1973,” are arresting. This is one of those few times that it is worth reading the epigraph, or preface where the girl Susie worries about the penguin in a snow globe. “Don’t worry, Susie,” says her father, “he has a nice life. He’s trapped in a perfect world.”
These two quotations give the reader the gist of the book. It is a realistic fantasy if that sort of description makes any sense. Told from the point of view of the murdered girl as she describes her life in her own developing Heaven and her excursions to earth to watch her family, friends and murderer.
The book’s concerns are those of loss, guilt and coping within the relentless narrative of life.
This is a modern fairy tale, but one in the tradition of the Brothers Grimm where killing, maiming and unbearable pain are an essential part of the story. I recommend it as an uncomfortable book which is not unnecessarily cruel. A most enjoyable read.
The weather does not encourage me to go to an overcrowded Sitges and spend an age trying to find a parking space for the car.
Perhaps Tuesday.
It rains.
It will rain.
Not a good couple of days these lat couple of days, but there is always a band of light somewhere shining on the sea; that gleam of sun which Wales so often denied for weeks on end!
As if to match the weather the pollo from the place that we get Sunday lunch was sub standard as well.
And we didn’t win the Once.
There is just so much one can take; as long as one can dilute it with a little Rioja!
The good news, as relayed on my internet radio was the astonishing news that Wales had beaten England at Twickenham in the opening game of the Five, sorry, Six Nations Championship! I don’t want to be defeatist, but the tried and test scenario is now for Wales to burgeon with impossible self confidence, start talking immediately of The Triple Crown and convince themselves that the winning of The Grand Slam is a mere formality. Then comes the period of bitter recrimination when it doesn’t happen. I can imagine it all!
What this victory does do is that it allows me to enter school with head held high and look my English colleagues in the face. As we have Scots and Irish among the staff I feel there will be a group feeling of solidarity!
‘The Lovely Bones’ by Alice Sebold was en engaging read. The opening sentences: “My name was Salmon, like the fish; first name Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered on December 6, 1973,” are arresting. This is one of those few times that it is worth reading the epigraph, or preface where the girl Susie worries about the penguin in a snow globe. “Don’t worry, Susie,” says her father, “he has a nice life. He’s trapped in a perfect world.”
These two quotations give the reader the gist of the book. It is a realistic fantasy if that sort of description makes any sense. Told from the point of view of the murdered girl as she describes her life in her own developing Heaven and her excursions to earth to watch her family, friends and murderer.
The book’s concerns are those of loss, guilt and coping within the relentless narrative of life.
This is a modern fairy tale, but one in the tradition of the Brothers Grimm where killing, maiming and unbearable pain are an essential part of the story. I recommend it as an uncomfortable book which is not unnecessarily cruel. A most enjoyable read.
The weather does not encourage me to go to an overcrowded Sitges and spend an age trying to find a parking space for the car.
Perhaps Tuesday.
No comments:
Post a Comment