to my shame i'd never actually read it before, despite my love of middlemarch. i don't think any other writer manages a tone which achieves this effortless balance of mockery, empathy, humour, seriousness, insight and sheer delight in language. and i really don't think it's worth writing fiction unless you make some small attempt to write prose with this density and this grace: 

Mrs. Glegg had both a front and a back parlor in her excellent house at St. Ogg's, so that she had two points of view from which she could observe the weakness of her fellow-beings, and reinforce her thankfulness for her own exceptional strength of mind. From her front window she could look down the Tofton Road, leading out of St. Ogg's, and note the growing tendency to "gadding about" in the wives of men not retired from business, together with a practice of wearing woven cotton stockings, which opened a dreary prospect for the coming generation; and from her back windows she could look down the pleasant garden and orchard which stretched to the river, and observe the folly of Mr. Glegg in spending his time among "them flowers and vegetables." For Mr. Glegg, having retired from active business as a wool-stapler for the purpose of enjoying himself through the rest of his life, had found this last occupation so much more severe than his business, that he had been driven into amateur hard labor as a dissipation, and habitually relaxed by doing the work of two ordinary gardeners. The economising of a gardener's wages might perhaps have induced Mrs. Glegg to wink at this folly, if it were possible for a healthy female mind even to simulate respect for a husband's hobby. But it is well known that this conjugal complacency belongs only to the weaker portion of the sex, who are scarcely alive to the responsibilities of a wife as a constituted check on her husband's pleasures, which are hardly ever of a rational or commendable kind.

stay tuned, 2010

super 16, 2010

misfits / mill on the floss / firefly / the mawddach estuary

photo of mawddach estuary by benefit of hindsight under creative commons on flickr

we don't it so much now, but once upon a time, i.e. a year or so ago, when alfie and i were sitting in cafes and he'd finished his apple juice and millionaire's shortbread we'd sometimes do what we called together pictures where we both had to draw simultaneously from either side of the notebook.

only when i was reading through the eyes of a child in the latest edition of tate etc. did i realise that together paintings have a short and honourable tradition...

this one's by pablo picasso, his children paloma and claude and his wife francoise gilot.

this one's by michel basquiat and cora bischofberger

i have been profoundly frightened of flying for a long time (about which i'm writing elsewhere at greater length). it's given me many undeserved greens points but it's stopped me seeing places and people i really must see before i die. i also hate the idea of having my life restricted by fear. If i'm not going to fly i want it to be a choice not a relief. to which end i've been grabbing the bull by the horns over the last year, with a lot of help from carol, tim, peter and others at aviatours and pilot flight training in oxford. unseen to my right is my instructor, john, and through the windscreen you can just about see the runway at kidlington airport. it was almost fun...

aviatours

pilot flight training