tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5913604557732361082024-03-13T03:10:48.673+00:00she needs a little sparkleeleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.comBlogger136125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-75253747724264981802012-03-11T21:31:00.000+00:002012-03-11T21:31:07.396+00:00one hundred and thirty-five<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is spring. I spent the morning with a bunch of strangers at the British Library, peering at illuminated manuscripts, and the afternoon with Hannah in the park, peering at nesting herons.<br />
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This is the church is at the end of my street; I love the blues, purples, greens of the windows against those very red bricks (especially on days like today, when the sky was clear and light).<br />
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</div>eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-87426659159927657362011-09-18T21:38:00.000+01:002011-09-18T21:38:10.261+01:00one hundred and thirty-four<blockquote><b>Woods - Louis MacNiece</b><br />
<br />
My father who found the English landscape tame<br />
Had hardly in his life walked in a wood,<br />
Too old when first he met one; Malory's knights,<br />
Keats's nymphs or the Midsummer Night's Dream<br />
Could never arras the room, where he spelled out True and Good<br />
With their interleaving of half-truths and not-quites.<br />
<br />
While for me from the age of ten the socketed wooden gate<br />
Into a Dorset planting, into a dark<br />
But gentle ambush, was an alluring eye;<br />
Within was a kingdom free from time and sky,<br />
Caterpillar webs on the forehead, danger under the feet,<br />
And the mind adrift in a floating and rustling ark<br />
<br />
Packed with birds and ghosts, two of every race,<br />
Trills of love from the picture-book---Oh might I never land<br />
But here, grown six foot tall, find me also a love<br />
Also out of the picture-book; whose hand<br />
Would be soft as the webs of the wood and on her face<br />
The wood-pigeon's voice would shaft a chrism from above.<br />
<br />
So in a grassy ride a rain-filled hoof-mark coined<br />
By a finger of sun from the mint of Long Ago<br />
Was the last of Lancelot's glitter. Make-believe dies hard;<br />
That the rider passed here lately and is a man we know<br />
Is still untrue, the gate to Legend remains unbarred,<br />
The grown-up hates to divorce what the child joined.<br />
<br />
Thus from a city when my father would frame<br />
Escape, he thought, as I do, of bog or rock<br />
But I have also this other, this English, choice<br />
Into what yet is foreign; whatever its name<br />
Each wood is the mystery and the recurring shock<br />
Of its dark coolness is a foreign voice.<br />
<br />
Yet in using the word tame my father was maybe right,<br />
These woods are not the Forest; each is moored<br />
To a village somewhere near. If not of to-day<br />
They are not like the wilds of Mayo, they are assured<br />
Of their place by men; reprieved from the neolithic night<br />
By gamekeepers or by Herrick's girls at play.<br />
<br />
And always we walk out again. The patch<br />
Of sky at the end of the path grows and discloses<br />
An ordered open air long ruled by dyke and fence,<br />
With geese whose form and gait proclaim their consequence,<br />
Pargetted outposts, windows browed with thatch,<br />
And cow pats - and inconsequent wild roses.</blockquote>On woods, and the way childhood lingers in certain spaces; on wilderness and domesticated landscape; on being of two places (in MacNeice's case, Ireland and England), and of always being an outsider.<br />
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And finally, of learning and growing up: 'And always we walk out again.'<br />
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In other (less literary) news, Louis MacNeice is a new addition to 'Poets I fancy' list.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yDKpPvZiPI4/TnZS6WRt-mI/AAAAAAAAAek/rgW_9LwlJmQ/s1600/louismacneice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yDKpPvZiPI4/TnZS6WRt-mI/AAAAAAAAAek/rgW_9LwlJmQ/s1600/louismacneice.jpg" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7_iyHUsgcY4/TnZTcWveDHI/AAAAAAAAAeo/K-X2sKkDbC0/s1600/macneicelouis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7_iyHUsgcY4/TnZTcWveDHI/AAAAAAAAAeo/K-X2sKkDbC0/s320/macneicelouis.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-85217787391327651112011-09-09T19:38:00.002+01:002011-09-09T19:39:09.728+01:00one hundred and thirty-threeA (very almost disgustingly) lovely version of one of my favourite songs.<br />
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<iframe width="400" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fkg4W-k3eUA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-63736378028286348152011-09-08T20:50:00.000+01:002011-09-08T20:50:15.072+01:00one hundred and thirty-two<style>
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<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;"> As part of <a href="http://www.themyths.co.uk/">Canongate's Myths series</a>, Margaret Atwood tells the story of the Odyssey from the point of view of Odysseus' wife Penelope, who remained in Ithica while her husband fought in the Trojan War and afterwards roamed the seas trying to get home, and her twelve hanged maids, whom Odysseus ordered killed on his return. (In case you want to know, the maids had slept with the suitors who tried to steal Penelope and the kingdom away in Odysseus' absence; so their crime was to be desired - or maybe even have desire themselves.)</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">Reading <a href="http://www.themyths.co.uk/?p=9">The Penelopiad</a>, I think back to how we were taught about Penelope at school: where Odysseus and smart and quick, so was she, making and unmaking a shroud to keep the braying, greedy suitors at bay; testing the returned Odysseus to make sure it was her husband. She was her husband's equal, our teacher said, to remind us that a person does not need to prove themselves with exaggerated feats and outrageous deeds.</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">Other than that, it was all faithfulness, fidelity, modesty and endurance: the ideal wife, I guess.</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">But I realise now that we studied one text of a poem conceived in a culture of oral storytelling. We didn't look past a particular version of Homer's Odyssey, did not explore the tales and stories that have been changed with region and time. Stories shift, are cut or lenghtened depending on the teller and audience. What else was there to know about Penelope? What hadn't made the version that sits bound on my bookshelf?</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;">Who makes myths? Is there ever a final version? And when we study them, what good does it do us to take one book and read it, like that is the whole story? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-53160259376704065392011-09-08T20:26:00.000+01:002011-09-08T20:26:19.906+01:00one hundred and thirty-one<blockquote>'So by the time the morning came, Odysseus and I were indeed friends, as Odysseus had promised we would be. Or let me put it another way: I myself had developed friendly feelings towards him - more than that, loving and passionate ones - and he behaved as if he reciprocated them. Which is not quite the same thing.'</blockquote> Margaret Atwood, <i>The Penelopiad</i><br />
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Odysseus, still dangerous when long-dead and on paper, he stole the hearts of some of my best girl friends; the wily, clever Odysseus, tangling men and women alike in his words, tricking and cheating and thinking his way out of (and into) trouble. A hero of invention; a hero of lies.<br />
<br />
There is a gap - a gulf- between what is said and what is felt. How can we be sure someone's words accurately represent what they feel (especially if you love a silver-tongued trickster)? The significance of faith in our lives is huge, even if we are meant to worship the rational, the empirical now. <br />
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Every day, we trust that the words of those we love are true. We hope to never discover a disjunct between language and feeling, to feel the world twist around us and finish upsidedown and off-kilter.eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-60584993810563512582011-08-21T23:48:00.000+01:002011-08-21T23:48:00.194+01:00one hundred and thirty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GMf5RCIu80c/TlGKy8oP91I/AAAAAAAAAeY/hakmk8m3rMg/s1600/tumblr_l2pia7SvSc1qaqsoco1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GMf5RCIu80c/TlGKy8oP91I/AAAAAAAAAeY/hakmk8m3rMg/s320/tumblr_l2pia7SvSc1qaqsoco1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
There is nothing about this picture that I don't love. I do not know the original source, sigh.<br />
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eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-79707932857710687152011-06-24T22:57:00.000+01:002011-06-24T22:57:12.144+01:00one hundred and twenty-ninehow many owl tshirts is too many?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.grizzlynights.bigcartel.com/product/o-w-l"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hyW3pCd8SIU/TgUHvQKMDSI/AAAAAAAAAc0/0rC8rCeAiEs/s320/ELLIE-CLOSE.jpg" width="219" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://supermarkethq.com/product/here-is-a-parliament-men-s"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e7G8ZCf9tDc/TgUHv0w5YPI/AAAAAAAAAc4/YDia7f9RtY8/s320/owls.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Because I want both of these.</div>eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-50511106088459282452011-06-05T19:34:00.000+01:002011-06-05T19:34:11.081+01:00one hundred and twenty-eightAn excellent way to spend eight and a half minutes:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/G7dnyedABYE" width="380"></iframe><br />
<br />
Andy Goldsworthy is an amazing, intriguing man, and it's great to be able to watch him work.<br />
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This is an evening for watching art programmes with my sister, and wishing there was more like the above on television now.<br />
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Another of tonight's highlights was a clip of Anthony Caro gleefully exclaiming of his <a href="http://www.tate.org.uk/images/cms/13171w_i3_3_caro_ealryonemorning_l.jpg">Early One Morning</a> 'And then, I painted it green!' - before the interview cuts to his wife saying 'Tony really has no understanding of colour. He's a form man. He usually lets me make the decisions about colour'. <br />
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(As you can see, Early One Morning ended up red.)eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-333078542423916682011-05-22T21:46:00.000+01:002011-05-22T21:46:20.725+01:00one hundred and twenty-sevenBest bit of advice I've read today:<br />
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'Don’t worry if you don’t marry the first dude you fall truly and deeply for because no one ever does.'<br />
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I will forget; it is impossible to maintain the intensity of emotions once they're past. I know this because I am already forgetting, and it terrifies me. Nothing is permanent, nothing - even sturdy rock can disappear with the wind or sea - but it is nice to pretend it is.<br />
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Even if that amounts to setting yourself up for a fall.eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-38914927968202361782011-05-17T18:28:00.002+01:002011-05-17T18:29:52.286+01:00one hundred and twenty-six<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8OOTbOIYaew/TdKsr8Re-HI/AAAAAAAAAcw/L9FQabIihpI/s1600/foxes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8OOTbOIYaew/TdKsr8Re-HI/AAAAAAAAAcw/L9FQabIihpI/s400/foxes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
If I were to ever get a tattoo (sometimes I am tempted, but am so fickle that anything involving permanence freaks me out) I would want it to look something like this lovely little fox, <a href="http://www.bl.uk/onlinegallery/onlineex/illmanus/roymanucoll/m/zoomify77300.html">a marginal drawing in Gerald of Wale's 'History and Topography of Ireland'</a>.<br />
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(ps the British Library's <a href="http://www.bl.uk/onlinegallery/onlineex/illmanus/index.html">online gallery of illuminated manuscripts</a> in wonderful)eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-64571714802258094672011-05-14T07:35:00.000+01:002011-05-14T07:35:12.977+01:00one hundred and twenty-five<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bdiy-eAXJOE/Tc4iUsBXQKI/AAAAAAAAAco/ca1RfQV-xfw/s1600/jellyfish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bdiy-eAXJOE/Tc4iUsBXQKI/AAAAAAAAAco/ca1RfQV-xfw/s400/jellyfish.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2CKXAeSIs88/Tc4iVFcZ3SI/AAAAAAAAAcs/RjcsHBVTa8E/s1600/parachutes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2CKXAeSIs88/Tc4iVFcZ3SI/AAAAAAAAAcs/RjcsHBVTa8E/s400/parachutes.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Jellyfish by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/suraky/">Suraky</a></span>eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-6268417732544829302011-04-27T21:01:00.000+01:002011-04-27T21:01:59.480+01:00one hundred and twenty-fourI just wrote a long(ish) email to a friend about why I don't much like the word lame being used to describe things that suck, and now my brain is feeling all tired.<br />
<br />
o little blog, how i neglect you!<br />
<br />
I very much like this song and video:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/sFrNsSnk8GM" title="YouTube video player" width="440"></iframe><br />
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The odd, carnivalesque tune is so captivating. And that line 'remember how we shook shook' - rightly or wrongly - reminds me of falling for someone, and getting to know them (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jT3_UCm1A5I">nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more</a>).eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-90377930677369755862011-04-22T19:48:00.000+01:002011-04-22T19:48:03.919+01:00one hundred and twenty-threeTom Vek is back!<br />
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This makes me very, very happy.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/aCfWUl5OvB0" title="YouTube video player" width="440"></iframe>eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-37868966589065633792011-04-22T13:30:00.000+01:002011-04-22T13:30:31.570+01:00one hundred and twenty-two<div style="text-align: center;"><b>I love Paris in the springtime</b></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ss9gvT63ukE/TbF0TKGxjtI/AAAAAAAAAcc/NkxBZjCCNWk/s1600/CNV00025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ss9gvT63ukE/TbF0TKGxjtI/AAAAAAAAAcc/NkxBZjCCNWk/s400/CNV00025.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3M1lPEBvIrI/TbF0WknDAjI/AAAAAAAAAcg/JnkVfdgxdDA/s1600/CNV00027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3M1lPEBvIrI/TbF0WknDAjI/AAAAAAAAAcg/JnkVfdgxdDA/s400/CNV00027.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XZ3quBezv6I/TbF0ZX5xeYI/AAAAAAAAAck/VGNd3sdnilg/s1600/CNV00028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XZ3quBezv6I/TbF0ZX5xeYI/AAAAAAAAAck/VGNd3sdnilg/s400/CNV00028.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-33617255350832129882011-04-17T22:04:00.000+01:002011-04-17T22:04:10.335+01:00one hundred and twenty-one<div style="text-align: center;"><b> a quick fragment of Paris</b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2dMrEqBcs0Q/TatU_TBjaVI/AAAAAAAAAcU/E1gA-hTIEWg/s1600/giantstrawb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2dMrEqBcs0Q/TatU_TBjaVI/AAAAAAAAAcU/E1gA-hTIEWg/s320/giantstrawb.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--hQmaigYzaQ/TatU9JgBgzI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/PTDbO2zH4Fg/s1600/monethair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--hQmaigYzaQ/TatU9JgBgzI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/PTDbO2zH4Fg/s320/monethair.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Turns out my hair is very much like a Monet. </div>eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-91090279510651445262011-04-13T21:52:00.000+01:002011-04-13T21:52:11.461+01:00one hundred and twentyThe hair on the back of my head is the length of my thumbnail; it is newly cut and for the next few days i will run my fingers through it absentmindedly, enjoying the soft scuff of it against my skin (like a brush you use to clean your nails or polish shoes).<br />
<br />
My fingernails are painted black. I once thought nail varnish too girly, but now I like the surprise of oddly coloured fingertips. I have no patience waiting for it to dry, though, and end up with it smudged and rippled. <br />
<br />
I am meant to be packing to go to Paris. I am slightly intimidated by the idea of the city. And i imagined my first visit would be with someone else.eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-44704146077371989562011-03-25T23:45:00.000+00:002011-03-25T23:45:48.889+00:00one hundred and nineteenold, but good:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-uMGw6awvUgg/TY0nxmp29NI/AAAAAAAAAcI/qBiWVBYpkv8/s1600/11-3-Grunge-Meisel-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-uMGw6awvUgg/TY0nxmp29NI/AAAAAAAAAcI/qBiWVBYpkv8/s400/11-3-Grunge-Meisel-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CBrU31ImxfI/TY0nyItVwCI/AAAAAAAAAcM/l8vwfc89QNw/s1600/11-3-Grunge-Meisel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CBrU31ImxfI/TY0nyItVwCI/AAAAAAAAAcM/l8vwfc89QNw/s400/11-3-Grunge-Meisel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I like the length of the dresses. Perhaps the time of the miniskirt has passed (I've been in them since 16).eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-69772111058381218842011-03-24T08:58:00.000+00:002011-03-24T08:58:32.205+00:00one hundred and eighteenI'm going to Paris in three weeks (for the first time). Eeeeee!eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-1536194461685037732011-03-23T22:35:00.000+00:002011-03-23T22:35:05.169+00:00one hundred and seventeenI had a big post planned, about gender brainwashing and how and where gendered rules are made and reinforced; instead, I watched Masterchef (it's not even very good! argh.)<br />
<br />
So in the meantime, here are some shoes I really, really want.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ZaMMk_NZRyE/TYpyy9lbTvI/AAAAAAAAAcE/f6-iTd7DdIQ/s1600/pups-jazzie5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ZaMMk_NZRyE/TYpyy9lbTvI/AAAAAAAAAcE/f6-iTd7DdIQ/s400/pups-jazzie5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>They are vegan, and handmade from recycled cotton and tyres. <a href="http://www.osborndesign.com/about">The company</a> claims to be sweat-shop free and worker driven. Also, cats.<br />
<br />
I made a promise at the start of the year to stop buying from high street shops (and to not buy anything first-hand if I could avoid it). Footwear is difficult for me: I have big feet and charity shops have an abundance of size 6 shoes and little else. So these are probably perfect, except i probably can't afford them. Sigh.eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-33479090413921043702011-03-18T17:28:00.000+00:002011-03-18T17:28:51.050+00:00one hundred and sixteenAnother to add to the <a href="http://sheneedsalittlesparkle.blogspot.com/2011/01/eighty-one.html">songs that make you want to pick up a book list</a>:<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8dS8uy5fwfs" title="YouTube video player" width="400"></iframe><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">First love, Emmy the Great</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://smartshopbuy.com/images/books/first-love-and-other-shorts-beckett-samuel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://smartshopbuy.com/images/books/first-love-and-other-shorts-beckett-samuel.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">in other news, today i look like this:</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-5nO8brt8IkA/TYOVJCjgc8I/AAAAAAAAAb8/xvToLblHEHE/s1600/Photo+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-5nO8brt8IkA/TYOVJCjgc8I/AAAAAAAAAb8/xvToLblHEHE/s400/Photo+9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-60677143337824938752011-03-16T23:07:00.000+00:002011-03-16T23:07:06.597+00:00one hundred and fifteenThe Museum of London has made me want to buy an iphone.<br />
<br />
They've launched an app, StreetMuseum, which guides users to various points in London where, via the iphone screen, historical images of the city appear.<br />
<br />
Like this.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Gto_uyKGay4/TYFAh1_znuI/AAAAAAAAAbs/lTyRMxdpCgo/s1600/piccadilly_circus_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Gto_uyKGay4/TYFAh1_znuI/AAAAAAAAAbs/lTyRMxdpCgo/s400/piccadilly_circus_0.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-18rlmhxgbUo/TYFAi1fNFcI/AAAAAAAAAbw/RXKKNFOiSnk/s1600/west_india_quay_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-18rlmhxgbUo/TYFAi1fNFcI/AAAAAAAAAbw/RXKKNFOiSnk/s400/west_india_quay_0.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fyX1YC-QsgQ/TYFAqsd7jAI/AAAAAAAAAb0/pHLrXkD-3rY/s1600/buckingham_palace_gates_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fyX1YC-QsgQ/TYFAqsd7jAI/AAAAAAAAAb0/pHLrXkD-3rY/s400/buckingham_palace_gates_0.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div>The word palimpsest describes a manuscript page from which text has been scraped off, so that it can be used again. These images are reverse palimpsests, then: the past refound and layered again on the surface.eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-31982915786225111412011-03-16T21:58:00.000+00:002011-03-16T21:58:12.938+00:00one hundred and fourteenThe first, and so far only, time was when I was seventeen.<br />
<br />
I stood in the hallway outside my classics classroom, feeling sick and alone, trying to remember when exactly my period was meant to have started. Had it been just over four weeks since the last, or five? I never thought much about it. My nausea was only nerves - had to only be nerves.<br />
<br />
Until then, I had not realised what a joy it was to bleed. <br />
<br />
I have never wanted children - even less when still a child. Never been able to imagine myself a mother, nuturing a little being that was part-me and not-me at all. <br />
<br />
But I saw pictures of him when young, and he told me things he had made and done. And I wondered what our children would look like, what my son's hand would feel like in mine.<br />
<br />
<br />
<object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F11972479"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F11972479" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object><br />
<br />
<blockquote>'and i would have liked to,<br />
to have something above you<br />
to have something to hold<br />
and know i could choose to let it grow'</blockquote>(Emmy the Great, We almost had a baby)eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-56072358678109865152011-03-13T20:00:00.000+00:002011-03-13T20:00:55.768+00:00one hundred and thirteen<blockquote><br />
<dl><dd>'Westron wynde, when wilt thou blow,</dd><dd>The small raine down can raine.</dd><dd>Cryst, if my love were in my armes</dd><dd>And I in my bedde again!'</dd></dl></blockquote>Some things don't change, no matter how many hundreds of years go by.eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-39385059950515308932011-03-13T19:52:00.001+00:002011-03-13T19:53:00.788+00:00one hundred and twelveOn Friday evening Hannah and I curled up in <a href="http://www.vintageemporiumcafe.com/">The Vintage Emporium Cafe</a> (possibly for several hours longer than we initially intended). <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Fa91FJEtyHg/TX0ZY1nUKKI/AAAAAAAAAbI/c3qA8hO_G14/s1600/IMG_0345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Fa91FJEtyHg/TX0ZY1nUKKI/AAAAAAAAAbI/c3qA8hO_G14/s320/IMG_0345.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zmlKjxj8WUA/TX0ZZsRPeAI/AAAAAAAAAbM/fhf29L3QYLc/s1600/IMG_0348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zmlKjxj8WUA/TX0ZZsRPeAI/AAAAAAAAAbM/fhf29L3QYLc/s320/IMG_0348.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rus2W_W32ec/TX0ZagD3OdI/AAAAAAAAAbU/xeEqNG6blXw/s1600/IMG_0351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rus2W_W32ec/TX0ZagD3OdI/AAAAAAAAAbU/xeEqNG6blXw/s320/IMG_0351.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-b5eqKnHt5kc/TX0ZZ78QqTI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/8sjzh4eWiAI/s1600/IMG_0350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-b5eqKnHt5kc/TX0ZZ78QqTI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/8sjzh4eWiAI/s320/IMG_0350.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-zIQmz7x8yBk/TX0ZawzUbtI/AAAAAAAAAbY/WCL-vsGg278/s1600/IMG_0353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-zIQmz7x8yBk/TX0ZawzUbtI/AAAAAAAAAbY/WCL-vsGg278/s320/IMG_0353.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gx8hs4iX3Eo/TX0ZbSI2LqI/AAAAAAAAAbc/eG7w6g0TzDE/s1600/IMG_0358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gx8hs4iX3Eo/TX0ZbSI2LqI/AAAAAAAAAbc/eG7w6g0TzDE/s320/IMG_0358.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-cvuVJGyNuXg/TX0Zb56lWmI/AAAAAAAAAbg/-_Jf4VC_3cg/s1600/IMG_0373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-cvuVJGyNuXg/TX0Zb56lWmI/AAAAAAAAAbg/-_Jf4VC_3cg/s320/IMG_0373.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-emUFUq1csYc/TX0ZcbGrdxI/AAAAAAAAAbk/WSOQr4fsnzc/s1600/IMG_0382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-emUFUq1csYc/TX0ZcbGrdxI/AAAAAAAAAbk/WSOQr4fsnzc/s320/IMG_0382.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Anyone seen Up?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-j7Sc-PbVvEo/TX0Zc4rV0EI/AAAAAAAAAbo/aS4OpDs6t_k/s1600/IMG_0384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-j7Sc-PbVvEo/TX0Zc4rV0EI/AAAAAAAAAbo/aS4OpDs6t_k/s320/IMG_0384.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The cafe's dog - I didn't ask his name.</div><br />
It's a really lovely place. The staff are friendly (even if they didn't let me buy an avocado they had balanced on some scales by the till); they have soya milk (yay!) and some beautiful looking cakes and pastries (probably not so vegan, alas); and the place is packed full of intriguing little bits and pieces, books and even a scrabble board.<br />
<br />
<br />
If you are in the Brick Lane area, do go and while away a few hours there.<br />
<br />
On the train home I ate (still warm) bagels from Beigel Bake. Yum.eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591360455773236108.post-44631859067303394742011-03-10T22:21:00.000+00:002011-03-10T22:21:19.628+00:00one hundred and eleven<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n_Veu1oLZGU/TXlJm_9CkaI/AAAAAAAAAao/8gUYiQqkyVU/s1600/74large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n_Veu1oLZGU/TXlJm_9CkaI/AAAAAAAAAao/8gUYiQqkyVU/s320/74large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tungsten (W, atomic number 74). Also known as Wolfram. Derived from the German <i>wolf rahm</i> ('wolf soot') which is in turn derived from the Latin<i> Lupi Spuma</i> ('wolf's froth') - a reference to the large amount of tin consumed by the mineral during extraction.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TEspcb1MzbU/TXlJ6F8RCwI/AAAAAAAAAa8/2McdoA8U6Cc/s1600/110large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TEspcb1MzbU/TXlJ6F8RCwI/AAAAAAAAAa8/2McdoA8U6Cc/s320/110large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Darmstadtium (Ds, atomic number 110). A superheavy metal that decays after a fraction of a thousandth of a second.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-98bCw8lQbeY/TXlJ4oEoBgI/AAAAAAAAAaw/UMH2ZVd2PoA/s1600/38large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-98bCw8lQbeY/TXlJ4oEoBgI/AAAAAAAAAaw/UMH2ZVd2PoA/s320/38large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Strontium (Sr, atomic number 38). Used in flares and fireworks, and more recently in the treatment and prevention of osteoporosis.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-RuznjsSd_hc/TXlJ32mbx6I/AAAAAAAAAas/V_qkWLj1jDM/s1600/26large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-RuznjsSd_hc/TXlJ32mbx6I/AAAAAAAAAas/V_qkWLj1jDM/s320/26large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Iron (Fe, atomic number 26).</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hpC9_EFE9-g/TXlJ5BkN6tI/AAAAAAAAAa0/-Lk9OKOha7Q/s1600/69large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hpC9_EFE9-g/TXlJ5BkN6tI/AAAAAAAAAa0/-Lk9OKOha7Q/s320/69large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Thulium (Tm, atomic number 69). Named for Thule, an ancient name for a northern region (possibly Norway, Sweden, Iceland or Greenland). The term <b>ultima Thule</b> in medieval geographies denotes any distant place located beyond the "borders of the known world". </span></div><br />
All from <a href="http://azuregrackle.com/periodictable/table/">The Periodic Table Printmaking Project</a>.eleanorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09466530275814502469noreply@blogger.com0