Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles.
These were the opening words of Lady Chatterley’s Lover, apparently – I wouldn’t know, I’ve never read it – but happened upon the quotation recently and thought it apt for our current times. That they were initially part of a shocking text, but fifty years later perfectly represent the current situation, is a perfect example of how words can change meaning over time.
Talking of which, our washing machine packed in, and the engineer humorously discovered a rogue face mask was blocking the pipe in a symbolic sign of how the world has changed in twelve months.
The same week, this was in the ‘paper:
The extra time at home, then the trials of teaching, Carlo’s calm celebratory sip of what turned out to actually be tea (and inspired yet more kindness of strangers from Humberside) all led to a development in my understanding of coffee. My favourites, naturally, are Neapolitan. This investigation introduced me to the Cuore di Napoli project, where artists have reclaimed the city with beautiful red hearts and powerful statements, such as: ′′ Only survivors live in Naples. Living in the city is an act of resistance that requires method, organization, bonds, relationships and daily strategies” and this in turn connoted the volcanic eruptions which have taken place recently. This then transported me back to Easter 1994 and a school trip to Naples, Pompeii, the top of Vesuvius, too: Il vesuvio non uccide I suoi figli che gli dormono sul cuore’ (which translates as ‘Vesuvius doesn’t kill his children who sleep on his heart’) and that’s pretty lovely.
Talking of that part of the world… been doing loads of baking; got another burn on my finger from cooking pizza, to prove it. Had a go at Maggie May’s famous Scouse, for World Scouse Day. Perfected focaccia, did a great smoked salmon lasagne… but we’ve had to boycott Asda.
One Saturday night, a few weeks ago, I heard a strange scraping noise outside and went to investigate, but couldn’t see anything untoward. The neighbour then knocked: she asked if we’d seen the back of our car, as she’d seen an Asda van screeching off down the road.
Hours spent on the phone to police, insurance, local ASDA stores, were to no avail and at one point it looked like the car was a write-off. However, the power of words was highlighted again when a strongly worded e-mail to the upper echelons of ASDA UK’s offices led to wheels literally getting set in motion and the £2000 worth of damage getting fixed at ASDA’s expense and an apologetic gift card offer.
Next up, the first St Patrick’s Day when we could fully participate in the festivities celebrating he who drove the snakes out of Ireland, given that the DNA test I did last year stated I was 32% Celt. Elijah embraced the chance completely:
It reminded me of another beautiful statement, spotted on (and translated from) a friend’s t-shirt a few March 17ths ago: “mar na leitheidi aris ann” which basically means ‘we shall never see his like again’ – a powerful statement, with so much meaning and potential, often used in eulogies.
Lighter moments filled the month, too. The growing menace of Face Swaps and deep fakes via the Reface app, leading to lots of laughter (and some discomfort at how much I looked like the Mr Bean version of me, which really confused Elijah); myriad quiz shows, cookery shows, travel shows to offer escapism and dreams of finally getting to go places; the excellent start to The Falcon & Winter Soldier; the brilliant and absorbing The Flight Attendant; a reminder of pre-Covid times with the fantastic performance of Back to the Future – The Musical on Comic Relief, tinged with sadness for the great day out we had before everything changed.
I also rediscovered my childhood love of Subbuteo, and am pleased to learn not just that there is a whole new generation buying and selling vintage examples on eBay as well as the new versions, such as the women’s team and the VAR referees. I’m in good company, as the picture above shows… And, listening wise, I spent a large portion of the month accompanied by the haunting voice of Matt Berninger (of The National) I’ve just got onto the Keith Haring mixtapes so loved by Lauren Laverne on BBC 6 Music, an eclectic mix soundtracking the New York of forty years ago, so romanticised despite the seediness, violence and crime which engulfed it. I also have a new found love of Pavarotti, after hearing a performance on Scala Radio potentially even more powerful than Nessun Dorma, the anthem of the present author as a ten year-old, of Caruso. I don’t know that I’d ever heard it before, and found a translated version which made it all the more appropriate:
As if by MA-GI-CA (look it up), we arrive at Easter, probably my favourite time of the year – as Mr Sedaka sang, “the Easter Bunny, when you smile” – which this year is again a little different because of the social distancing and because of the work we’re having done on the house. Rebirth, new hope, fresh start… preparations for the renovations revealed a large hole in the wall – reminding us that bad things come in three, after the car and the washing machine, but also of the Shawshank Redemption which also came out in 1994, when I went to Vesuvius. You just couldn’t make it up.
Naturally, we covered it up with a (albeit homemade) Raquel Welch poster, just like Andy Dufresne did, in advance of the work starting.
Henry, the guy doing it ,accepted my offer of a coffee on the first morning, but explained that he prefers it with cream and honey. He settled for milk & honey, which reminded me of the hauntingly beautiful words of Rupi Kaur (a student introduced me to her poetry a few years ago) which were coincidentally probably the nicest things I read this month.
The power of words, indeed.