peter and the wolf

Merry Christmas, everyone!

I watched 'Peter and the Wolf' on Channel 4 yesterday. It was a recent animation by Suzie Templeton, with no dialogue, just the music by Prokofiev to tell the old Russian story of a boy, his grandfather, a bird, a cat, a goose, a hunter and, of course, the wolf.

When I was young, I used to listen to the record with a narrator telling the story, and it used to scare me silly. The wolf's theme was dark and menacing, and I hated the insidious creeping up on the unsuspecting creatures.

The version on television was arresting, interesting, clever, unusual and, in places, amusing, but it wasn't scary. I don't think it was just because I'm so many years older. I can still be scared by wolves and vicious dogs (and consequently werewolves, but that's different). The wolf here was just doing what wolves and indeed all creatures do - eating to stay alive.

Darkmatters has several posts about this film, starting here, then here and here, for an alternative, thorough and enthusiastic interpretation.

'twas the night before

I drove up to Edinburgh yesterday, to spend Christmas with my parents. I'm glad I arrived last night, because it meant I was able to decorate the tree today on Christmas Eve, which is the traditional, and in my view, best time to put up decorations.

Some of the decorations are new, but some I recognise as favourites when I used to decorate the tree as a child. Indeed, one box is marked "6d each, 1/- for the centre" (2.5p and 5p for post-decimalisation babies), the centre decoration being a long, thin spike for the top of the tree. They were probably bought sometime soon after the war (World War 2, I should say, to distinguish it from the others since).

Some of the decorations are a bit bedraggled, and some are definitely old-fashioned, but I love this connection with the past. For me, the tradition of Christmas is not putting up ornaments, but putting up these particular ornaments. Yes, the collection changes over time, as some are damaged and have to be replaced, but that's a gradual process. Buying a completely new set might be more in keeping with what other people are doing, but it would have no meaning.

I believe strongly in the importance of individual myths/traditions/stories. Without wishing to sound in any way like a Daily Mail reader, I bemoan the decline of such things in favour of mass, impersonal ... I can't think of the right word, so I'll have to call it 'stuff', but I don't mean objects or products. I suppose I mean 'culture' but not the highbrow sort. Does anyone understand what I'm on about, or am I just talking nonsense?

farewell, Geraldine

Continuing yesterday's topic of our outside toilet, the main (probably only) thing I'll miss about it is Geraldine. She's the orb-weave spider in the top-right corner of the doorway.

It was fascinating watching her slowly and steadily weave her web, circling the centre and using each of her back legs to pull, hook and place the thread. The web was often in tatters, and sometimes it wasn't repaired for several days, but she kept replacing it.

Over the summer, Geraldine frequently disappeared, and when she returned she was usually larger. When not on her web, the tips of her legs could sometimes be seen peeking out of the dark shadows in the doorframe.

As November progressed, she slowed down, and looked decidedly unsteady while she weaved. I looked up websites about the life-cycle of spiders, but there was conflicting information about whether orb=weavers look after their young or not. Certainly, November seemed to be the time when they tend to disapper from the garden, perhaps to return in the spring, perhaps not.

I last saw Geraldine a fortnight ago.

brass monkeys

With the recent and sudden plunge in temperature outside (at least in UK terms), I am particularly pleased that our bathroom is now fully functioning. It is already hard to remember that only last week that we had no shower and were still using the outside toilet.

That wasn't a problem during the summer, but as the work on the bathroom dragged out over the months (don't ask), the prospect of having to contend with frost or even ice in the middle of the night became a distinct possibility. I am so glad we finished in time.

morning pages

I was reminded yesterday of The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. I first posted about it over a year ago, and it's interesting looking back on the results.

I kept up the task of morning pages for a couple of months, which is longer than I expected, and I did feel better for it in all sorts of ways. The remembering of dreams didn't continue, but I've recently started doing that again anyway.

Occasionally I tried to write morning pages after driving up the M6 to college, but it never really worked. It was far better to do it as soon as I got up (after making a cup of tea, of course).

I was less successful with the weekly task of the artist's date, where you treat yourself to some form of creative experience, whether buying crayons or going to a gallery. It sounds silly, but I found it harder to treat myself than to get up half an hour earlier every day.

I also found the sessions hard where you have to ponder, not because the questions were difficult, but because they were designed to help people get out of whatever was trapping them. I had recently quit my job to retrain, so I'd already escaped, and the questions seemed unnecessary for my circumstances.

Despite these qualifications, I strongly recommend The Artist's Way (though I'm wary of the related books she's published - they smack of milking the cash cow). Now that I've been reminded of it, I intend to resume those morning pages.

television and mental well-being

Has anyone been watching 'Growing Out of Trouble'? It's a short series following Monty Don's project to encourage a small group of people addicted to drugs to change their lives by gaining skills and reconnecting to the soil.

The series suffers from the same problems as similar programmes: voyeurism, naivety, patronising attitudes, and extremely high levels of time and money devoted to a few individuals. It doesn't even have enough about the growing to make it interesting or informative.

The only reason I mention it is because in last week's programme, Monty Don talked about the depression he suffers each autumn. His openness was unusual, although I don't think it was as extensive, from what I can gather, as the programme about Stephen Fry's mental health which I didn't see but I think was shown roughly three months ago.

Is mainstream television (well, BBC2) starting to cover these issues in a sensible way?

there's a first time for everything

Well, I was going to start summarising the events of the last few non-bloggagable days (yes, it's a typo, but I quite like it, so I'm keeping it), but somehow it doesn't seem worth it now. It's all merged into the past, which in a way is a shame because lots of interesting stuff happened, but hey, I'm sure lots more will happen too.

Today I'm introducing the "what I've done today for the very first time" slot. Chris Evans gets people to phone in to his Radio 2 show (just how have they managed over the last few years to get rid of that station's terrible image?) to tell the nation what new achievements they've managed that day, big or small, and it seems like a good idea to me. It certainly won't feature in every blogpost, and probably not every week - merely now and again.

So, today, for the first time, I used a power sander. What a strange feeling in your hands and arms! It's like they're much thicker and less sensitive, and the feeling continues for a while afterwards.

i'm back

You probably couldn't distinguish it from other gaps round here, but my most recent lack of posts was caused by a non-functioning telephone connection at home. A little carelessness while sanding woodwork near the junction box.

Not mine, I add, and since only one other person lives in this house, you might construe that as pointing the finger. My denial is not because I'm trying to shift the blame, though. I just don't want to claim credit for doing more decorating than I do. I'm not normally handy with a screwdriver, but reconnecting the broken wire was straightforward.

I'm surprised just how remote I felt while incommunicado, and annoyingly there seemed to be a lot to blog about. I might condense it into a couple of posts over the next few days.

the sound of music

We received a large boxful of music CDs at work today. Each one has several versions of compositions that you can use on a soundtrack when producing films. The CDs have titles like 'Ambient in the Heartland 2', 'Planet of the Breaks' and 'Noisekraft'.

Each track is described in fruity terms like (and I quote): "unusal trombone with 'cold' (cough, sneeze and catarrh) SFX".

Unfortunately, that particular track really did have coughs and sneezes used as samples.

I'm not sure if we'll ever actually use any of this, especially since it's not licence-free as we'd been led to believe, but it added to the Friday afternoon atmosphere today.

the stuff that dreams are made of

I rarely dream. Well, strictly speaking, I should say that I am rarely aware of dreaming. Who knows what goes on behind your back while you're asleep?

Yet every day for the past fortnight, I have woken up in the morning (and often during the night as well) with the remnants of a dream in my head. These remnants don't last long, but quite often I know that I've been dreaming about things that happened many years ago.

Could it be connected in some way to the short hours of daylight? I spend much less time outdoors, so my brain gets less variety of information to process. Perhaps while I'm asleep it has to turn instead to older memories. Alternatively, because I'm getting less physical exercise, perhaps my sleep patterns are lingering in the state where dreaming takes place.

Any suggestions, anyone?

painting with not very much light

Birmingham Botanical Gardens are open for a few evenings on weekends, with illuminations in the grounds and hot houses, and entertainment in the form of music, clown and juggler.

Lisa and I went on Saturday to try our hand at low-light photography, something neither of us has done before. The results were interesting, but could be improved, so we're planning to head back again for another go.

The photo on the right was a half-second exposure at f4.0 (800 ISO). The balls were lit up from inside, and flashed, hence the strange pattern.

Pride then fall

I had a couple of sobering experiences at work this week. One was quite general, so I've written about it on my other blog. The other, however, was more personal, so it seems more appropriate to write about it here.

I spent quite a few years in my previous career, and I became accustomed to knowing it thoroughly. I quite happily represented my organisation at all sorts of meetings, and I knew how to fulfill my role.

I decided to change career, however, and retrained in multimedia. My current job, which I've only been doing for a couple of months, involves using multimedia in the museum world. I know little about museums and I know even less about using multimedia in that specific context.

In my eagerness to get things moving, I forgot that, and acted as though I knew as much as I did in my old job. Fortunately, not many people were aware of this, and no damage was done. It was just a timely reminder that I have a lot to learn in my new role. Enthusiasm is good, but recklessness isn't.