There are a number of things I like about life but right at the top of the list is the fact that it’s no longer the beginning months of 2011. Hurrah.
Sylvia Plath, 1953
In recent months, I’ve almost completely stopped posting on here. I do always like to take a look back at the past though, at things I’d forgotten I ever knew or had ever felt. It occurred to me earlier that, in a few months or years, I won’t have anything similar from this time to look back in. So, with a backwards kind of logic, maybe this blog - although I’m hesitant to call it that - will come back to life this year.
The gods, they say, give breath, and they take it away. But the same could be said — could it not? — of the humble comma. Add it to the present clause, and, of a sudden, the mind is, quite literally, given pause to think; take it out if you wish or forget it and the mind is deprived of a resting place. Yet still the comma gets no respect. It seems just a slip of a thing, a pedant’s tick, a blip on the edge of our consciousness, a kind of printer’s smudge almost. Small, we claim, is beautiful (especially in the age of the microchip). Yet what is so often used, and so rarely recalled, as the comma — unless it be breath itself?
Jean Shrimpton in New York City, 1962. Photo by David Bailey.
I haven’t posted on here since god knows when so this is perhaps a little cheeky, but I have a new blog to document Swedish adventures and other such observations. I am still getting into the swing of proper paragraphs and no reblogs, but hey ho.
weronika of raspberry and red
There is divine beauty in learning… To learn means to accept the postulate that life did not begin at my birth. Others have been here before me, and I walk in their footsteps. The books I have read were composed by generations of fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, teachers and disciples. I am the sum total of their experiences, their quests. And so are you.
I haven’t written here for a pretty long time but I have a whole month of summer in Northampton to content with and let’s just say that I’m at a bit of a loose end. I’m yet to even begin unpacking because that just feels like admitting defeat and saying yeah, I do actually live here (which I don’t, not mentally anyway).
At long last, summer has arrived, and somewhat unfortunately it has coincided with me deciding, once and for all, to stop being such a massive chub. This means that I have just spent fifty minutes battling through the hottest - and longest - run of my life in the midday sun because I couldn’t get myself out of bed early enough to avoid it. I am probably the reddest and sweatiest that I have ever been… oh, what an attractive picture I am painting of myself here!
I am now going to have a very cold shower, then spend an afternoon in the garden evening out my slightly dodgy tan and beginning on the stack of books I’ve been building in a ‘to read’ fashion for about a year.
Have fun everybody and I sincerely hope that you are somewhere more pleasant than the Northamptonshire desert.