My day is defined by swimming and lazing. Isn’t that the definition of a holiday?
I can remember when my holiday days were filled with frantic culture, packing in as many museums, art galleries, concert halls and anything else that could count as Culture. I remember a string quartet in Santorini with billowing net curtains; a concert in the church next to the church of the Holy Wisdom in Byzantium; the Messiah sung apparently in English in a church outside St Tropez; a concert in a courtyard of a sculptor in Oslo which took three days to complete because it had to be postponed after each item because it was so cold the violinists couldn’t feel the strings – in August!; a harpsichord recital in Rotterdam where the seats were high backed aircraft type seats – an open invitation to repose; a balalaika orchestra in Moscow – I lasted until the interval and then fled; a performance by the Orchestra of the Mediterranean of the Organ Symphony with a portable organ!; a wonderful performance of the Kullervo Symphony by Sibelius in the Proms on my return from a visit to Scandinavia in which I didn’t hear a single piece of Scandinavian music; a free concert in Central Park in which the sound of the music was not good, but the antics of the listeners made up for it and in the cramped confines of a painter’s house/museum in Sitges a performance of a Lorca reciting Flamenco dancer who gave me a carnation.
And nowadays I lie in the sun. Now say that there hasn’t been a dumbing down in modern society!
My swimming is progressing nicely as I follow my watery groove up and down our tiny pool. I generally manage to intimidate people out of my way, but I am sharpening my nails so that anyone who does have the impertinence to obstruct my passage will have a reminder to encourage better behaviour in the future.
I have finished the Shulman book on television and I share his concerns about the belittling effects of the medium and I am almost convinced about some sort of connection between TV violence and behaviour in the real world. The book has encouraged me to find something more modern but just as polemical.
I solved the problem of what to read after a book on television by picking up my copy of “Howards End” and looking at the spine and wondering if I had ever read it.
The word is divided into spine breakers and smooth spiners: I am a breaker. I like flat pages and cannot imagine how people can abide reading sideways. I was loaned a book which had a perfect spine and looked as though it was unread. It was a perfect misery to read as I felt that I couldn’t do what I normally do and crack it in four places before I started reading. I was glad to give it back!
I was wrong about my lesson; it is tomorrow. I will take the car to the station and go in my train as I have no desire to repeat the horror of bus travel.
I really should try and visit MNAC or another gallery to catch up on the exhibitions that I am missing.
We’ll see.
I can remember when my holiday days were filled with frantic culture, packing in as many museums, art galleries, concert halls and anything else that could count as Culture. I remember a string quartet in Santorini with billowing net curtains; a concert in the church next to the church of the Holy Wisdom in Byzantium; the Messiah sung apparently in English in a church outside St Tropez; a concert in a courtyard of a sculptor in Oslo which took three days to complete because it had to be postponed after each item because it was so cold the violinists couldn’t feel the strings – in August!; a harpsichord recital in Rotterdam where the seats were high backed aircraft type seats – an open invitation to repose; a balalaika orchestra in Moscow – I lasted until the interval and then fled; a performance by the Orchestra of the Mediterranean of the Organ Symphony with a portable organ!; a wonderful performance of the Kullervo Symphony by Sibelius in the Proms on my return from a visit to Scandinavia in which I didn’t hear a single piece of Scandinavian music; a free concert in Central Park in which the sound of the music was not good, but the antics of the listeners made up for it and in the cramped confines of a painter’s house/museum in Sitges a performance of a Lorca reciting Flamenco dancer who gave me a carnation.
And nowadays I lie in the sun. Now say that there hasn’t been a dumbing down in modern society!
My swimming is progressing nicely as I follow my watery groove up and down our tiny pool. I generally manage to intimidate people out of my way, but I am sharpening my nails so that anyone who does have the impertinence to obstruct my passage will have a reminder to encourage better behaviour in the future.
I have finished the Shulman book on television and I share his concerns about the belittling effects of the medium and I am almost convinced about some sort of connection between TV violence and behaviour in the real world. The book has encouraged me to find something more modern but just as polemical.
I solved the problem of what to read after a book on television by picking up my copy of “Howards End” and looking at the spine and wondering if I had ever read it.
The word is divided into spine breakers and smooth spiners: I am a breaker. I like flat pages and cannot imagine how people can abide reading sideways. I was loaned a book which had a perfect spine and looked as though it was unread. It was a perfect misery to read as I felt that I couldn’t do what I normally do and crack it in four places before I started reading. I was glad to give it back!
I was wrong about my lesson; it is tomorrow. I will take the car to the station and go in my train as I have no desire to repeat the horror of bus travel.
I really should try and visit MNAC or another gallery to catch up on the exhibitions that I am missing.
We’ll see.
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