- 68,690 hits
- Still Taking the Anti-Dote (to the Poison of Chaos) And an Art Note February 17, 2020
- Tricks of Light I January 3, 2020
- Covehithe Ochres and Gissing Whites: Hand-Made Paints from Foraged Pigment November 2, 2019
- Indeterminacy: The Blueberry Interlude: Cold Dyeing with Blueberry Stems October 15, 2019
- More Notes from a Melody Not Yet Written October 14, 2019
- Aesthetics Allotmenteering Art Artist Books Artist Sketchbooks Art Journal Christian writing Collage & Assemblage Creativity Dialogue Drawing Eco/Natural Dyeing and Printing Ecology Encaustic Art Folklore & Mythology Inspiration Mixed Media Music Nature Journal Photography Printmaking Research Reviews Science Short Story Writing Singing spirituality Stitch Walking Writing
Monthly Archives: November 2013
The You Tube video above is a selection of folk dances from the repertoire of the folk dance group la Pastourelle d’Auvergne de Romagnat. I’m listening and watching to get myself better into the rhythmic mood of the song I’m … Continue reading
“It isn’t over till the fat lady sings”
I won’t get time to write tomorrow, so I’m doing it today. Tomorrow I have a singing lesson in the morning and then in the evening, a rehearsal for the concert on Saturday. In between, I’ll probably need to lie down … Anybody who thinks singing isn’t a physical activity, … wrong! I know, it isn’t over till the fat lady sings – there is this lingering image of sopranos as large ladies. Continue reading
time to move on
leave another murdering
herd, unsheepishly, unconforming
– I don’t strike
back, just because
I am struck just because
mud makes me curious Continue reading
If you’ve read yesterday’s NaBoPoMo blog post you’ll have learnt that I’m singing solo on Saturday and I’ve decided to write a morning journal every day to help me with performance nerves. I’ve just done this morning’s. It was revealing what poured forth! Continue reading
I’m singing solo next Saturday (for the second time) and if you’ve been reading my blog you’ll know I had stage fright that wrecked my début (though there were others who felt it wasn’t that bad). What to do? Well, I’ve decided to do a diary for the rest of this week, right up until the event. Not here. I don’t want to bear my soul to that extent in public (however small the public). Continue reading
I’ve recently joined Pinterest, though haven’t found the time to engage much with it yet. But I stumbled upon a fellow NaBloPoMo-er the other day who has created a Pinterest board of her NaBloPoMo blogs, so I did the same last night – well, unto the wee small hours! Here’s a link to the collection so far:
“Two blokes fighting and a statue?”
“Read the handouts before the lectures! Watch!” Hilda whispered.
Rich watched. One of the blokes bludgeoned the other.
The lights went up in the auditorium.
Professor Pound rounded on Rich. “Enlighten us, do, on the relationship between the film and Imagism.”
Sarcastic old git! Rich peered short-sightedly – wanting to impress Hilda, he’d left off his specs. “Matthew:18.9” Continue reading
NaBloPoMo XXII: Walking on the Edge of the World, Capturing Rainbows: (What I’ve Been Singing This Week)
Isn’t this a lovely lullaby? You can’t have a repertoire without a lullaby or 20 in it, can you?
Secret Garden is the duo of Irish violinist Fionnuala Sherry and Norwegian composer and pianist Rolf Lovland. They’ve won Eurovision twice (for Norway) and are the originators of the song You Raise Me Up which everybody on the planet has recorded (this is only a slight exaggeration). I sing it myself. (Why let the professionals have all the good tunes)?
I walk to my singing lessons. It’s a steep uphill climb all the way. My walk takes me past a cemetery, but on the other side of the road. Yesterday, icy rain was falling on the cemetery, but not on my side of the road, or me, where the sun had come out. I felt like I was walking on the edge of the world. Continue reading
I promised yesterday to reveal what the blooper was in the extract I posted from a book I’m reading on my Kindle/iPad. Here’s the text again:
He held out a hand. “I’m John Smith.”
“Jane Brown,” said Jane, …
“Are you on holiday?” asked Jane.
“Yes. I … excuse me.”
I didn’t get his name, thought Jane. He’s very attractive.
I don’t suppose I need to point it out, as it’s such a glaring mistake, but for the record – in the first line character A tells character B his name. In the last line, character B is telling us that she didn’t get his name!
Reading on, I soon came across another error in this book, a spelling error this time. Here’s the text:
“… What about [Teresa Trimmington]? She leant [Frederica] her diamond necklace and …” Continue reading