Tales From The Crypt - Saturday 23rd and Sunday 24th April 2022

[Saturday]

Son #2 is flying to Costa Rica, an 11-hour flight, where he'll be met by his gf and her mum, at least.  Naturally, I'm watching his progress on FR24, as he heads out over the Atlantic and the east coast of the United States of America. he should arrive between 8 and 9 p.m. this evening.

There's not much to else say about the day as I spent most of it organizing and planning, but at least there wasn't much housework.  For some inexplicable reason I didn't get around to reading the papers, so I'll have to save that until tomorrow or Monday.

It's the French presidential election today and I have my fingers crossed that the evil Putin-apologist, Marine le Pen, doesn't get elected, nor does she get too big a share of the vote. Fingers crossed.

Son #2 has arrived in San Jose and the first messages and pictures are emerging. He's with his gf and her mum; I hope he has a great time and I'm sending much love across the ocean.

TV in the evening then to bed and sleep.

[Sunday]

Books, bookshops, and coffee.  I have finally started reading the book club book for May, 'Reservoir 13', by Jon McGregor, and am making a little progress. Will I finish it in time for book club? I think it's safe to say that one's balanced on a knife edge.

Today is my big sister's birthday, so I call to wish her a happy birthday and chat about her plans for the day.  She and her husband are going out for a meal in the evening, though it seems not many restaurants are open on a Sunday in their area.  This is where I should write, 'It's grim up north', but as I'd be lynched if I wrote that, I'm not going to. Glad that's cleared that up.

Amongst all the doom and gloom there's one bit of good news (though I guess there's an undercurrent of not such good news); Macron has been re-elected as French president.

The eagle-eyed among you may have spotted a couple of tunes selected from Microdisney's Virgin albums, 'Crooked Mile', and '39 Minutes'. It looks as if UMG might be giving them a long-overdue re-issue on CD; they've already re-issued both albums digitally, so I have my fingers crossed for something physical.  This is also a heads-up that more tracks from both albums might appear here, though I'll try and break them up with some new stuff.  There's always more!

I'm still reading a poem a week (making my way through 'The Fire Of Joy'), but it's been a while since I've posted one here.  Some of the lines in this poem, resonate and have landed in my brain. 

Shadows grazing eastward melt

from their vast sun-driven flocks

into consubstantial dusk.

A snow wind flosses the bleak rocks,

strips from the gums their rags of bark,

and spins the coil of winter tight

round our last meeting as we walk

the littoral zone of day and night,

light's turncoat margin: rocks and trees

dissolve in nightfall-eddying waters;

tumbling whorls of cloud disclose

the cold eyes of the sea-god's daughters.

We tread the wrack of grass that once

a silver-bearded congregation

whispered about our foolish love.

Your voice in calm annunciation

from the dry eminence of thought

rings with astringent melancholy:

'Could hope recall, or wish prolong

the vanished violence of folly?

Minute by minute summer died;

time's horny skeletons have built

this reef on which our love lies wrecked.

Our hearts drown in their cardinal guilt.'

The world, said Ludwig Wittgenstein,

is everything that is the case.

- The warmth of human lips and thighs;

the lifeless cold of outer space;

this windy darkness; Scorpio

above, a watercourse of light;

the piercing absence of one face

withdrawn for ever from my sight.

It's by Gwen Harwood, who I'd not heard of before, and is titled, 'Last Meeting'.  I rather like it, and I'm glad it isn't.

The usual end to the day, not much else to say.

Cate Le Bon / 'Harbour' / 'Pompeii'

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