...Ever get that feeling that you have Things to Do but are completely lacking the motivation to Do them...?
I have Sunday Evening Ennui, today, friends -- I have a choral evensong rehearsal in two hours followed by an hour's service (thereabouts), sopping laundry to hang up, hair to wash, papers to file, a book to keep editing, a book to keep writing (which is being sorely neglected these days) ... And what am I doing now? Complaining on here. Sorry. Enough of this. I do think my life balance needs to be redressed again soon though... Ooh, Bank Holiday next weekend. Yeah, that'll do it.
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This week, I have mostly been...
Reading | Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton
Because sometimes a gal needs a slimline classic.
I love Wharton's writing, it's both classic and accessible. I'm yet to read The Age of Innocence but I loved The House of Mirth, not to mention the film adaptation (although I'll watch anything Gillian Anderson rocks up in, in all honesty).
I'm also reading and editing my friend Georgina's account of her life in Spain, which is a terrific exercise for me as an editor more used to children's books.
Playing | Tetris Blitz on the tablet
It's my guilty pleasure. It's also massively therapeutic. To quote Sex and the City's Miranda Hobbes, "It's my thing, let it go." It's my Candy Crush Saga. But about twenty years behind the times. Of course.
And speaking of,
Rewatching | Sex and the City
I'd like to say this is primarily research for the NYC trip in... squee, just under four months! And it is. But it's also delicious, indulgent brain candy.
Who doesn't want to deliver Carrie a swift slap for cheating on Aidan with Big though? Even now?! Who cheats on Aidan, possibly the loveliest man ever committed to the small screen?! Devoted and creative... and the straggly mullet did disappear eventually.
Singing | a cappella
Yesterday we finished learning the a cappella piece we've been learning in a subset of Voicerox Choir. It really is quite a discipline to sing unaccompanied and maintain the tuning and dynamics.
Recovering from Easter
Maybe it's old age (...it's almost definitely old age) but I came away from a particularly gluttonous weekend (in a good way) hankering, actually physically craving,greens. I've always been pretty good on the green-eating front -- with the exception of those 20 years of my life in which I took after my father and refused to eat peas (I still won't touch the mushy variety but I'm partial to petit pois). But craving veg to the point where I ran to Sainsbury's and stocked up on all the greenery I could fit in my trolley? That's new.
I've been loosely following David Bez's admirable Salad Pride blog recently, and it's very tempting to follow his example and go green/raw especially when you see a tasty treat like this posted:
But then I find one of these little blighters in my treat tin and all resolve goes out of the window:
Eh. Everything in moderation.
That said, in just over two months (egads) I'm performing onstage in my rock 'n 'pop choir's annualcelebration of awesomenessconcert (OK, ignore that strikethrough, it really is going to be awesome). And I'd like to look 'stage-ready' (i.e. slightly less stumpy than I did last year).
So maybe subbing in one of those Creme Eggs for one of these:
{I'm really trying to like these blighters but they're so temperamental...!}
wouldn't be a bad idea. Except Creme Eggs are so much easier to get into.
Watching | Jamaica Inn-comprehensible
The Beeb in all its wisdom crammed the entire novel into three consecutive days' viewing so I missed episodes two and three as broadcast, but have since caught up with episode two and am going to delve into ep three later...*.
The BBC came under considerable criticism after it was deemed that much of the dialogue was incomprehensible -- here and here :
I found this wasn't necessarily the case for all the actors, mostly just the drunken menfolk (notably Joss Merlyn). I'm sure Sean Harris is a fine actor but he was just not right as Joss. Joss is supposed to be a huge, swarthy, commanding brute of a man with a mop of dark hair, bright white teeth and dark, leathery skin. Not a mumbling, shaven-haired next-coming-of Robert Carlyle.
Likewise, Mary's Aunt Patience is supposed to be a limp, grey-haired, brutalised mouse of a woman but Joanne Whalley plays her with a lot more gumption -- and red hair -- than she ought to be credited with. (Not that Patience having more gumption is a bad thing but it negates the influence Mary has on events and the frustration she feels that her aunt is being maltreated.)
The BBC have taken some considerable liberties with du Maurier's text in this adaptation, not only in the casting but also the plot, undoubtedly to move the story along within a limited time frame, but oftentimes this has meant compromising key plot points.
That said, there was definitely some lovely, filthy chemistry between Mary Yellan (a nicely ballsy Jessica Findlay Brown latterly of Downton Abbey) and Jem Merlyn (a splendid Matthew McNulty). And where the Mary of the book is also quite limp and a little passive, Mary in this adaptation knows her own mind.
You go, girlfriend.
Reading | The Trial.
STILL. This book won't go away.
But I've also started reading Leanne Shapton's memoir, Swimming Studies,after seeing a recommendation for it, randomly, on artist Lisa Congdon's Instagram (quick segue: check out Congdon's blog, artwork and Instagram):
In Swimming Studies (which I'm only a short way through) Shapton documents her time as a competitive swimmer -- a very different lifestyle from that of the casual swimmer (hello, that would be me) and features some of her swim-inspired artwork.
If anything drives me back into the pool on a more regular basis it'll be this book. And maybe this Guardian Swimming blog, just discovered via my friends over at Did You Swim Today on Facebook.
Playing | with my new baby
No, not a flesh-and-blood offspring-type-baby, that'd be a step too far even in the realms of QB credibility -- but a technology baby.
A small (positive) change in fortune, plus five years of accumulating Nectar points, plus a well-timed special offer on the Sainsbury's website, meant I could treat myself to this little nugget:
This be the Samsung Galaxy Tab 3 (16GB, 8-inch, red edition). It's a beauty, it really is. I've always been about five years behind the rest of western society when it comes to embracing new tech and trends but this seemed too good to pass up. Start-up was far easier than I could imagine -- I synced the tablet with my Google account and it automatically downloaded all the apps I've bought on Google Play, even the paid ones. Nicely done.
I've downloaded the BBC iPlayer and 4OD apps so * (yes, that's the asterisk reference from above) I could watch Jamaica Inn on it (not to mention old eps of Nathan Barley and the excellent, stellar Easter episode of Rev. starring Ralph Fiennes as the Bishop of London, and, yes, apparently that was Liam Neeson as the jogging 'God'. Whoa. Mind blown.)
I'm hoping to download a few programmes to watch on the plane to New York in September (gosh, have I mentioned that lately?) -- for long-haul flights I can see the logic of e-books, but I still can't bring myself to read one. Paperbacks and in-flight films all the way, babies.
I've also downloaded the very sweet photo editing app by Elsie + Emma of the blog A Beautiful Mess:
Y...eah, I don't think I've exploited A Beautiful Mess app's full capabilities yet but it's so darn cute that, given time, I certainly will.
I had downloaded The Sims: Freeplay but after I couldn't even fathom out how to buy my poor Sim a toilet and get her to use it I gave up and uninstalled the game.
...Good job I don't have a flesh-and-blood baby, really.
Amusing myself on Photoshop
After my excitement over Frozen last week and after I'd finally exorcised Love is an Open Door from my earworm chamber (in spite of my friend Clare alerting me to this brilliant video -- this couple's little girl is priceless to watch):
...I was greatly amused to clock the name of a street near our office. And so I felt the need to create this little homage:
{Apologies to Disney... I had a quiet ten minutes earlier, thought this was a great idea. ...}
You are welcome.
Voici! Weekly Weblinks
Last week in my haste to post (post-haste?) I neglected to mention that thousands (90,000!) of archive British Pathé films have been added to YouTube. Some have been dubbed by John Humphrys, some are silent, but many still have their original soundtrack. Genuinely delightful to discover. Especially gems such as this:
Yes, 'fraid your weekly dose of Bethy's Brain Deposits has been shunted back a day but good things come to those who wait, n'est-ce pas, especially if you've been observing Lent and yesterday was the first day in two months that chocolate has entered your digestive system...
Anyway.
This week (and a bit), I have mostly been...
Reading | The Trial (still)
The clue to the ease of reading of this novel is in the title...
Finishing | The End of Everything
An enjoyable yarn, though everything fell into place around Evie's disappearance much too easily; and Evie's family needn't have got the police involved at all because Evie's best friend Lizzie was apparently psychic enough to dream and sense Evie's fate and whereabouts. Or something. Still, I recommend The End of Everything as well as Dare Me, Abbott's catty cheerleader novel which reads a little like Bring it On Gone Bad. But in a good way.
Watching | Frozen
and
Untouchable
Both very different films.
Both superb.
I don't need to roll out the plot intricacies of Frozen for your good selves, do I. ;-) It did remind me greatly of Return to Oz in parts -- the frozen landscapes, Sven the reindeer/the Gump, the lavishness of Elsa's/Mombi's palace..., Marshmallow/the Nome King...
And my heart belongs to Olaf the snowman. Sven's cute 'n' all, but Olaf won me over. (Closely followed by Oaken.)
Untouchable is something else. Based on a true story and a true friendship, it focuses on the unlikely friendship and mutual respect of two very different men: millionaire Philippe, paralysed in a skydiving accident, and his reluctant new live-in carer, Driss. It's French, subtitled, and its lead man, Francois Cluzet has more than a touch of Dustin Hoffman about him. It's also charming, funny, and has a delicious soundtrack by Ludovico Einaudi, one of my favourite contemporary composers. Win-win.
All right so maybe I did clock up my first live post in seven weeks at 8am on Easter Morning, as if I couldn't wait to break the Lenten fast. The post simply said Happy Easter -- I didn't try to encapsulate seven weeks in one post, don't you worry. What would be the point of that, eh?
And it was lovely to be welcomed back onto the platform! While my FB Fast may not have been the most enlightening move a person has ever made on a journey through Lent, it has given me some much-needed perspective. As has deleting every post and almost every photo I've posted in seven long FB years. I just don't need to be that present on Facebook any more.
And yes, admittedly, there is a dreg of truth in this meme:
but I see nothing excessively self-indulgent in making a pinboard of one's aesthetic pleasures. We're appreciating the inherent beauty and creativity in the world -- is how I justify spending hours poring over another 'Nostalgia from the 1980s' board that has somehow managed to unlock a gallon of suppressed memories.
