Perhaps it is just me, but a neighbour using high volume baby talk to her dog early in the early morning may justify being called by the noun because of her proximity, but she certainly doesn’t merit any application of the abstract noun. ‘Neighbourliness’ to me (as an ex-dog lover) now means slaughtering all your canine dependants to attain the level of peacefulness conducive to a tranquil existence.
The Howling Dogs of Hell who live next-door but three scream like emasculated wolves every time another dog passes their gateway – and in this neck of the woods passing dogs are legion, as having a dog is regarded in much the same way as having an identity card. Disturbingly, every time I pass these disintegratingly old doggy degenerates giving them a pointedly baleful look as I sweep by, they do not bark but one of them promptly mounts the other! I don’t know whether that is a brave statement of the sexual urge still alive and well in their decrepit bodies or some sort of elegant insult to counter my hostile stare!
Today and tomorrow I have vowed to read something which has some level of intellectual respectability to counter act the effect of Mrs Meyer’s popular though undemanding books! Alternatively I have to go shopping.
I pride myself on being more than averagely observant, so it came as something of a shock to me to see (for the first time) that the symbol for the National Lottery is also a face as well as crossed fingers!
A case of seeing without looking. This is the sort of experience which makes you panic for a moment and wonder just how much carefully crafted visual information is blithely ignored by what I can’t even pretend to myself was a casual glance. I mean, just how many thousands of times have I looked at the symbol and just seen the crossed fingers.
It reminds me of the staff entrance to James Howells Department Store in Cardiff on Saint Mary’s Street. I must have passed this entrance god knows how many times since I was a kid, but it was only when one of my students was doing work experience in the store and explaining how his day started that I walked down and actually noticed the entrance’s existence. Not that it was hidden or inconspicuous - it was just that it was irrelevant to my shopping experience and therefore, with no effort, it was ignored.
I remember easily going into the university library when I was in Swansea and idly looking through a shelf of new acquisitions and selecting “Mental Maps” by Gould and White for closer inspection. This amazing book gave visual representation to cognitive maps which showed vividly peoples’ preferences. One map which I still recall showed a map of the United States overlaid with contour lines of ‘desirability’ showing where people wanted to live. I remember too that one of the Dakotas was a ‘sink hole’ of desirability where even the inhabitants didn’t want to be there.
One of collections of ‘mental maps’ that was illustrated in the book was related to people from different social classes who were asked to draw a map of the same part of the city and their resulting drawings were revealingly different. It’s rather like someone giving directions via pubs or another via churches or yet another via shops. What people included and what they left out spoke volumes!
Even though this book was published over thirty years ago (sigh!) I recommend it without hesitation. I wonder why my copy is. Probably it will turn up in the Great Book Sorting which will take place this summer. Possibly.
I am now committed to going to see a festive dramatic entertainment on Sant Jordi in our newish theatre in Castelldefels. As this will take the form of improvisations on popular literature in Spanish I only hope that the actual acting will be interesting enough to keep me occupied for the duration.
Sant Jordi (Saint George) is the patron saint of Catalonia and his day is celebrated by the gifts of books and roses. Each street corner sprouts a little kiosk or bucket in which single roses are available for purchase: in Castelldefels, going on the horticultural saturation last year, there is no excuse for any young swain, ageing Lothario, faithful or faithless spouse to fail to produce the required rose!
In school we have an ‘Invisible Friend’ for whom we have to buy a book. This year I actually know my victim and I have a good idea of the book which I think would be appropriate. The only trouble is that I know the book in English and am not sure if it is available in Spanish or Catalan. Never mind; the buying of the book is of minor significance compared to the horror of thinking of a suitable comment to put inside it! Toni will have to be galvanized into translation mode to help me cope!
The Game is now on computer and I must try and find my Respectable Book to while away the time before dinner can be started!
Tomorrow Bach!
The Howling Dogs of Hell who live next-door but three scream like emasculated wolves every time another dog passes their gateway – and in this neck of the woods passing dogs are legion, as having a dog is regarded in much the same way as having an identity card. Disturbingly, every time I pass these disintegratingly old doggy degenerates giving them a pointedly baleful look as I sweep by, they do not bark but one of them promptly mounts the other! I don’t know whether that is a brave statement of the sexual urge still alive and well in their decrepit bodies or some sort of elegant insult to counter my hostile stare!
Today and tomorrow I have vowed to read something which has some level of intellectual respectability to counter act the effect of Mrs Meyer’s popular though undemanding books! Alternatively I have to go shopping.
I pride myself on being more than averagely observant, so it came as something of a shock to me to see (for the first time) that the symbol for the National Lottery is also a face as well as crossed fingers!
A case of seeing without looking. This is the sort of experience which makes you panic for a moment and wonder just how much carefully crafted visual information is blithely ignored by what I can’t even pretend to myself was a casual glance. I mean, just how many thousands of times have I looked at the symbol and just seen the crossed fingers.
It reminds me of the staff entrance to James Howells Department Store in Cardiff on Saint Mary’s Street. I must have passed this entrance god knows how many times since I was a kid, but it was only when one of my students was doing work experience in the store and explaining how his day started that I walked down and actually noticed the entrance’s existence. Not that it was hidden or inconspicuous - it was just that it was irrelevant to my shopping experience and therefore, with no effort, it was ignored.
I remember easily going into the university library when I was in Swansea and idly looking through a shelf of new acquisitions and selecting “Mental Maps” by Gould and White for closer inspection. This amazing book gave visual representation to cognitive maps which showed vividly peoples’ preferences. One map which I still recall showed a map of the United States overlaid with contour lines of ‘desirability’ showing where people wanted to live. I remember too that one of the Dakotas was a ‘sink hole’ of desirability where even the inhabitants didn’t want to be there.
One of collections of ‘mental maps’ that was illustrated in the book was related to people from different social classes who were asked to draw a map of the same part of the city and their resulting drawings were revealingly different. It’s rather like someone giving directions via pubs or another via churches or yet another via shops. What people included and what they left out spoke volumes!
Even though this book was published over thirty years ago (sigh!) I recommend it without hesitation. I wonder why my copy is. Probably it will turn up in the Great Book Sorting which will take place this summer. Possibly.
I am now committed to going to see a festive dramatic entertainment on Sant Jordi in our newish theatre in Castelldefels. As this will take the form of improvisations on popular literature in Spanish I only hope that the actual acting will be interesting enough to keep me occupied for the duration.
Sant Jordi (Saint George) is the patron saint of Catalonia and his day is celebrated by the gifts of books and roses. Each street corner sprouts a little kiosk or bucket in which single roses are available for purchase: in Castelldefels, going on the horticultural saturation last year, there is no excuse for any young swain, ageing Lothario, faithful or faithless spouse to fail to produce the required rose!
In school we have an ‘Invisible Friend’ for whom we have to buy a book. This year I actually know my victim and I have a good idea of the book which I think would be appropriate. The only trouble is that I know the book in English and am not sure if it is available in Spanish or Catalan. Never mind; the buying of the book is of minor significance compared to the horror of thinking of a suitable comment to put inside it! Toni will have to be galvanized into translation mode to help me cope!
The Game is now on computer and I must try and find my Respectable Book to while away the time before dinner can be started!
Tomorrow Bach!
No comments:
Post a Comment