“Rest in reason; move in passion
I’m writing this in the snug, sitting on my cosy armchair by the ancient Rayburn; you will often find me in here now with my two dogs and my cat for company. The washing is hanging from the beams, it’s reached the airing stage now. I look straight out on to the river and the field of sheep and beyond that, an oak wood, still green, not yet bare of leaf.
Five things I am into:
This is a piece of homework for Purplecoo. (I’m sure I’ve done this subject before?). The deadline is today so I am getting it in quick to avoid detention…… again.
I wish I was able to put 'worthy' things down like painting, sewing, decorating, gardening, exercising daily, cooking great recipes every night and writing wonderful works of literature. Doing Good Deeds would be a nice one as well. Hey Ho.
My list is like me at present, a bit feeble, but here goes:
Reading is always scrumptious, but even more so in the seasons of autumn or winter. I’m more likely to be found ‘living’ in a novel at this time, call it escapism if you like but I'm seeking out the unputdownable if possible.
A Good Book is a Good Friend. I had a leather bookmark with that on once, well I still do have it in my collection. Did I tell you I collect bookmarks?
I lose myself in a book if I can. I ‘cooch up‘ (as they say here in Wales)on the sofa and snuggle down, or in bed, or by the Rayburn, or in front of the woodburner - anywhere cosy. The woodburner is lit at around dusk every evening now and is definitely Something To Look Forward To.
Working in a library means that I am exposed to loads of books (absolute bliss for a bibliophile like me) and I also have many books recommended to me by borrowers. Good reads. I also recommend my much-loved titles to the borrowers of course, that is part of my job as a librarian. (Karen, please note the use of that word.... librarian).
Promoting reading and the love of books is a passion of mine.
I have just finished one such book, it was recommended to me by several borrowers. It is Eve Green by Susan Fletcher and I think it is an excellent novel. It did win the Whitbread First Novel award a while ago, you may have read it? There is Welsh local interest, quite by chance, and the quality of the writing is excellent, quite poetic in places.
Sleeping and napping become more enjoyable too as the nights start to draw in and the temperatures drop. (Full blown hibernation is not allowed unfortunately because it would definitely get my vote).
Now don’t tell anyone about this next one will you but I’ve even started …
Watching more TV. Perhaps it is because I am still feeling weak after the flu but I am currently into programmes like the One Show, Eggheads, Strictly Come Dancing, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, Antiques Roadshow and a few (loads?) more, others I can’t remember.
(Question Time I never miss).
I haven’t deserted dear Radio 4 though, that channel is still my Good and lifetime Companion, especially in the kitchen and the bedroom.
I intend to get into brisk walking again when I am fully better. I went on one last week but it was too soon after my bug and I felt bad again the next day. Possibly because on the same day I also cleaned the cottage from top to bottom and did a couple of hours in the garden and did some shopping and recycling etc etc. Will I ever learn?
My other passion at present is genealogy. I always turn back to this in the darker months and I am eagerly on the trail of dead people in Ireland, France and the East End of London.
Last but not least (I always have to stick in a cliché, I only do it to annoy you understand).
Writing…… of course! That takes up a lot of time. Blogging, reading others’ blogs, commenting, visiting Purplecoo, commenting.
I have my novel-in-the-making and as today is a day off I guess I had better dig it out. Reading good books with ’good writing’ always inspires me to write, are you the same?
And speaking of good writers, here’s one.
Silent is the house: all are laid asleep:
One alone looks out o’er the snow-wreaths deep,
Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze
That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees.
Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor;
Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door;
The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far:
I trim it well, to be the wanderer’s guiding-star.
Frown, my haughty sire! chide, my angry dame!
Set your slaves to spy; threaten me with shame:
But neither sire nor dame nor prying serf shall know,
What angel nightly tracks that waste of frozen snow.
What I love shall come like visitant of air,
Safe in secret power from lurking human snare;
What loves me, no word of mine shall e’er betray,
Though for faith unstained my life must forfeit pay.
Burn, then, little lamp; glimmer straight and clear—
Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air:
He for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me;
Strange Power! I trust thy might; trust thou my constancy.
Bye for now,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,