What a surprise!

During one horrific winter of savage weather we, in Cardiff, had approx-imately 1mm of ‘snow’. It was so thin that the black surface of the road was clearly visible. The entire traffic system of South East Wales ground to a halt. Newport Road was one solid line of unmoving traffic. Traffic filled with incredulous commuters audibly questioning their perception of reality when a mere dusting of snow (during the winter) was able to disable the life of the capital city of a country by its simple unexpectedness. Who would have thought that winter could bring snow? How could anyone predict that snow would fall on roads? What gullible innocent would expect the city council to have machinery to help deal with adverse weather conditions? We have to remember that this is the country that brought you the excuse of ‘the wrong sort of leaves on the track’ to explain our lousy train system and its surrealistic time keeping!

Today was windy. Eight people have died in wind associated accidents. Air, Sea, Rail, Road and Canal have all been affected. Some wind speeds in Wales have reached 80 mph which is strong, but not that strong. We are constantly surprised by our weather and our surprise takes away our ability to cope. But, bad weather does give you the opportunity to stay comfortably indoors and sip a cup of tea and read and pretend that the weather outside does not exist. Just like the council!

In my reading Nickleby has attacked and thrashed Squeers and has decided to make for London with Smike in tow. I am constantly surprised how involved I am in the narrative when I know the book quite well already. Each re reading of Dickens points up different aspects of the story and you notice different details in the writing. Like a Giles cartoon there is always a telling detail which you have missed in the past.

My interest in Ralph Nickleby increases. His pathological hatred of disinterested philanthropy and his terror of emotional claims are fascinating. He is obviously contrasted with Nicholas: the difference between innocence and experience. But the younger man is going to have to depend on the kindness of strangers (the old deus ex machina) and his good looks, while Ralph lives in the world as it is and uses the realities of human frailty to survive. I am aware that I seem to have set off on a course to justify or exonerate his actions.

I will see how far I am able to maintain this stance: allowing the novel to dictate my response.

Of course!