Archive for the ‘boaz & moriah’ Category
I went on an unplanned stroll down memory lane. Yesterday I cleared out my paperwork! Big deal, you’ll think; well it is for me. I don’t open my post – only stuff that looks interesting – everything else waits in a quiet corner. So now I feel virtuous ‘cos four months of filing has been done, in real files as well as the wpb. Then I thought why not collate the notes and writings from my class – that shouldn’t take too long except I spent ages reading and admiring the rest of the group’s work – I was privileged to be with some serious talent. I also found reams of old poetry that brought back mixed memories – they need tidying and/or destroying.
As part of my crusade on paper, this morning I dug out from a deep old storage box, a pile of older battered crinkled notebooks. Between pages and pages of poetry and prose scribblings was so much else: Menus and recipes and related shopping lists. Plans for my children’s engagements and weddings, costs, guestlists, possible venues, flowers, music, more menus, music, etc. Recommended book lists and reviews. Doodles. Quotes from books and my own one-liners. Words I didn’t know their meanings, meaning to look them up. Numbers, lots of them – telephone numbers without names and what could the others be? Pictures of my babies… and Goren! Flight details, times, airports, costs, lists of hotels, itineraries. Home shopping lists and to-do lists and moving costs; not for this one but from spring 2004. (Yes this one is still gonna happen – the house will go on the market this week. Wish me luck)!
The next part of my journey shocked me (slightly). Those who have been around the block with me here will remember At Home With The Goren’s. That blog is long gone and the stories I first drafted in word – all deleted. In my hands I held chapters written, I think, in my lunchbreak, on a train or a plane or a cafe. What was I thinking then? Was I pleasing a particular audience? What was it with those two? I cringed as I read. Puerile and pathetic; the characters, the content and the quality of writing. I’m not sorry the blog is lost to posterity. However, thanks to dear Val she had the bright idea to invite anyone to contribute to her new blog After Major Case and in a moment of sentimentality I resurrected them. What was I thinking? Again! The couple have since matured (and the writer); they have a son Robert, Bobby is out of work and anything can happen.
As for all the notebooks – I kept the photos, pulled out the recipes, one-liners and a few poems – the rest, including mrsbg, are now languishing atop my recycling box awaiting an uncertain, but i’m sure a more useful future.
So wassup? My last post said I was going to Israel with mother and we did – it was a fabulous trip. Jamie joined us for a long weekend; he bunked at Jon and Bridgitte’s whilst ma and I stayed in an apartment in Herzliya two minutes from the Marina. There was a massive pool and the little ones had a lot of fun. It worked out brilliantly and friends were coincidentally staying in the same place and mother and I also met up with other friends who live there. Not sure when my next trip will be, the summer months are way too hot for this English rose, but hot off the press, they’re all coming to stay at the end of September for about ten days. Can’t wait to see my little ones again – I miss them so much – thank goodness for webcams and skype!
Rachel and I are still planning our trip to the big apple in October – flights are booked – wooo hooo. I am so excited. I’ve never been and it really is the only place on my wish list at the moment. I’ll never say no to other places, but right now I am fixated on going there. I’ve been researching accommodation – the choice is endless and I so want to get it right, but the prices are unbelievable. Coincidentally my boss is going in a few weeks and we were checking out the same hotels – they are half the price in August compared to the dates we’re going. I also checked to see if it was a public holiday or something, but no, and it’s not Chelsea’s wedding! Still searching – all recommendations welcome.
What else? Oh yes, Bon Jovi at the O2… cool. No, HOT!!!! He was fantastic, but boy I could hardly move the next day. It hurts to confess, this old hen is past being a rock chick. More on music… got blown away seeing (sadly only on tv) the awesome and talented Carole King and James Taylor at the Troubador’s 50th anniversary, although Jamie bought me the DVD & CD. They’ve been doing a sell-out tour in the States – it would be awesome if they brought it to London. Some music is timeless – Tapestry – 1971 – still listening.
I also got blown away by a television two-part drama written by Kay Mellor, based on her mother’s revelation that she’d had an affair when Kay was a baby. It’s called A Passionate Woman and received mixed reviews – I liked it. It also introduced us to a beautiful and talented young actor called Theo James. I shall be keeping an eye out for him and wish him a glittering career.
Trying to remember what books I’ve read since I last posted; I recall raving about Suite Francaise – since then I had the opportunity to hear her biographer, together with the Cambridge professor who translates Irene Nemirovsky’s writing, and Irene’s daughter (who is now 80). After the talk hoards of people queued for book signing; my friends and I had a coffee while we waited and then joined the end of the line – in my limited french we exchanged a few words and as I was the last one they signed the books to me personally, which was rather nice.
What have I been reading? I loved the first two of the Stieg Larssson Millenium books – the third sits teasingly on my bookshelf, but it is 700 pages long and I haven’t found time to dive in. They are such thumping good yarns; I’ve bought them for friends who also can’t put them down.
Am in the middle of Andrea Levy’s Small Island which is brilliantly well written – more of that when I finish it.
A quick read by the pool was Alexander McCall Smith’s latest in his No.1 Lady Detective Agency series of books set in Botswana – they never disappoint, but don’t expect too much – just easy reading filled with wisdom and insight.
What else? A return to Yann Martel’s Life of Pi. I loved it first time round – loved it even more the second. The first outing I was totally raving about his surreal adventures at sea and the fact it was so original; the second time I found myself more absorbed by Pi’s fascination and search for religion. The ending is clever, very clever. There are some beautiful lines and descriptions. If you’ve not had the chance, this is one I heartily recommend.
Couldn’t put down Marcus Zusak’s Book Thief. Set in Munich during the war the story of a German family harbouring a young Jewish man – the story is narrated by Death yet it is not in the least morbid. It is written in an unusual format where the contents of each chapter are listed at the beginning so you know what to expect. Another one I recommend.
The Ghost by Robert Harris – a political genre loosely (or not so) based on Blair – it had some great reviews and I hear the film is good, but not seen it yet. I should ‘cos I believe it stars the cute Pierce Brosnan and cuter Ewan McGregor. The book is 400 pages long; I didn’t find much to excite me until p.300. The timing was good – I was on a flight. The last 100 pages were pageturners; at the very last line it dawned on me that we never knew the name of the ‘ghost’ – of course we were never meant to. Friends who enjoyed it more than I didn’t notice my observation – they all went “Oh yes!” – still worth giving it an airing.
I’ve tried to read other books by Marina Lewycka, but gave up not even halfway. I completed the task with A Short Story of Tractors in Ukranian. Not sure what to make of the book – think it may be a little like Marmite – you either love it or hate it. It has been labelled comedy, when in fact it isn’t at all and nor was that the author’s intention. There are a few smart one-liners and it was poignant in parts. It’s about two distant sisters (in more ways than one) whose recently widowed, 80+ year old father is about to marry a buxom blonde Ukrainian in her 30’s. The father is writing a book about, yes, tractors in the Ukraine; he is an intellectual man, when he’s not being stupid. Some skipped those sections, but I actually found them enlightening as you saw the progress (and not) of communism in Eastern Europe. You can imagine the rest about him and his trophy – or read the book.
Finally Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis I & II. She is a graphic novelist living in France and her cartoon book is autobiographical. The title is the old name for Tehran. It was different. I found the pages hard on my eyes. It has been made into a film and I caught it this week on the television. Having recently read the book, it was exactly the same but animated so I switched off. I think I was less enthusiastic than my friends – I did not like the format (think Maus) but she is a graphic novelist so obviously this would be the way she would tell her story. Her story encompasses her life from childhood in Tehran, to being a student in Austria, back to Tehran and more studies and marriage, then divorce all with the backdrop of the different regimes and rules and regulations and war. It left me cold – I forced myself to read it – the story is true and heartbreaking and I wanted so much to sympathise and empathise; I’m sure I would have done if it was conventionally told .
Sorry I’ve been gone so long – I may be back (don’t hold your breath) 🙂
pics as promised — warning — some may find these offensive 😉
sorry about the poor quality, these are off jon’s phone and i’m too excited to wait for the better quality stuff — i’ll bore you with those another time 🙂
Monday I dragged my feet like a reluctant and recalcitrant schoolgirl back to my writing class – a new term, a new class, a new teacher. I was trying to justify every good reason for a no show – the course had been paid for, the money long gone, but the bottom line was that I simply could not be bothered. Shopping lists, christmas cards, cheques, sporadic posts here and an odd (in every sense) comment there, just about sums up the extent of my writing since breaking up last November. You’d think with the number of vegetative days since the snows began I would have taken the opportunity to knuckle down and be creative – huh – it don’t work like that!
The fact is I felt I’d lost my mojo and couldn’t face sitting in a class of talented wannabes, my pen frozen in the air above the snowy white virgin sheet of paper and everyone else keen eager beavers. Still I did make it ; the new teacher is a darling, it was great to see friends from last term and some newbies. It was rather amusing seeing their young and enthusiastic faces enter the room – you could tell there was an element of shock when they saw the number of wrinklies and thought they were in the wrong place. However as for not writing, I was not alone – no one else had and we all felt the same!
You see I blame the weather. It’s odd how it changes one’s psyche. We’ve all heard of SAD, seasonal affective disorder – not that it particularly affects me apart from my usual moan that it goes against nature to get up from a warm cosy bed when it’s still dark out there. It’s the psychological affect of snow; the feeling of being cut off and isolated that equates with hibernation; the desire to hole up and hide away and basically do nothing. Now I live a fairly solitary life in any event, but somehow this is different.
Last Wednesday was horrendous and my plans were scuppered so I chilled indoors, cooked and wrote a post. By the time I got home from work last night, my road was ice free – the garden still pretty as a winter wonderland and the underlying perils gone.
Today is another Wednesday – another non-working day – another night of snow and we’re back to square 1!
As I’m typing, I’m watching it coming down from the warmth of my bed, the sky the same colour as the housetops and the road an ice rink again, but today I will not give in so easily. Wisdom dictates I don’t do the North Circular, so sorry mother, another day not taking you to Brent X – it wasn’t so much the getting there, but the getting home. Still this vegetating has to stop. Life has to go on.
Tonight I have a meeting about my next official trip to Israel – driving on icy roads is one thing, doing it at night and I’m a real wimp, but it’s important. Many of you will remember last year’s trip well I’m doing it again. I’m looking forward to finding out this year’s itinerary and meeting my fellow travellers. I should like to revisit Rachel’s Tomb and pray harder this time – I’ll leave it at that for now. I heard we’ll be visiting Sderot, rocket attacks permitting. I know this time round it will be a larger group, so I expect we shall have an armed escort and travel on a bullet-proof bus and I know we shall be seeing Liore again – I am very excited. If you have time, please see the video on her link – Liore shines with inner beauty, she is modest, she is brave, she is an angel.
No trip to Israel goes without seeing my family, so of course I shall be staying on. Actually most trips are only about seeing them and weddings, talking of which, Jon and Bridgitte celebrate their 6th anniversary tomorrow, the baby is due very very soon – like around Boaz’s birthday and he’s gonna be 5 next week – I can’t wait to see them all – so many wonderful blessings. Coincidentally Jamie was due on Jon’s birthday, a long long time ago, except he came early – my husband wanted me to hang in there so he would then be born on his birthday the following day – yeah right! As it was I ended up living in a household with three typical Aries men!
Now I really am gonna move myself – the chores and errands won’t go away and they don’t do themselves!
HOT OFF THE PRESS — just heard that probate has been granted on the home jamie and lucy want to buy – guess it looks like I really will be moving – heeeeeeelp!!!!!
One resolution I have made, and try always to keep, is this: To rise above the little things ~ John Burroughs
New Year’s Day: Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual ~ Mark Twain
Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right ~ Oprah Winfrey
Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true ~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850
Many people look forward to the new year for a new start on old habits ~ Author Unknown
A New Year’s resolution is something that goes in one year and out the other ~ Author Unknown
I know Christmas is not my festival, but it still ended up a very busy time indeed as my home turned into Hotel Chez Raven – again – bless my darling dearest and nearest – and I love it. Anyway although it’s not my holiday I want to thank all of you who included me at this time, for your thoughtfulness in sending me beautiful snail mail and email cards and good wishes; all gratefully and graciously appreciated – your friendship means a lot to me – thank you.
I’ve not been in the right frame of mind to write – my creative juices are just not flowing – the way I’m feeling right now I could simply regurgitate some of the old stuff – boring boring boring. Maybe it is all written in the stars and the waning moon and the flow of the tides. I remember much debate about the effects of a new millenium and boy did my life change then.
New Years Eve ten years ago, 1999, strolling along Fort Lauderdale promenade, my husband puffing on a cigar having just bought ‘us’ an apartment – little did I know what was in store. The last ten years saw many losses; my marriage, my home, my job, my father and many friends who passed far too young, but despite the sadness, I am still blessed and for that I am eternally thankful. I can’t say my cup is brimming over with happiness, but I’m not unhappy either – rather a sense of contentment and fulfilment. The joy for a mother to see her children happily married to loving, caring and respectful partners and the wonderful gift of a loving family and friends and the highlight of grandchildren cannot be underestimated or adequately measured and as long as they are all well and happy, what more can I ask for?
So what’s new for 2010? It’s probably just as well we don’t know what tomorrow brings, but for me I feel the time is right for a change of scene – they did it in Israel!
I really do fancy a new start – a blank canvas – gutting out rooms and remodelling, redecorating and refurnishing whilst I still have the energy and strength, but not this house – I do love it now and it has served me well – if I could lift it and move it I would. It is so true what they say – location location location is everything and living on an uninspiring characterless development is not where I wish to end my days. I’ve had my HIP done (no not that kind – a Home Information Pack) and in the new year I shall get the ball rolling.
As for other resolutions – humbug – nonsense – we don’t need a date to change or reflect or think of what was, what is, what might have been. We can look into our hearts and souls any day of the year; it’s never too late to change. As they say, out with the old (and the bad) – in with the new (and the good)!
It has been an amazing few weeks – for the last four weekends house-guests and dinner-guests have graced my home and table; I loved every minute but the last ten days was the greatest pleasure of them all. I was on cloud nine, but now I am brought back to earth – they have gone home boo hoo 😦 and I miss them already.
Admitting I’m exhausted is an understatement, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. While the children were here my ma celebrated her birthday; lots of fuss sharing it with her greatgrandchildren turned it into a very special day and one to remember.
Sadly, at the same time we were commemorating the anniversary of my father’s passing four years ago yesterday. I was at jojo’s blog recently and read how she wanted to contact a facebook friend and was shocked to learn she had died. Just as shocked to see in the news yesterday the death of Stephen Gately… a waste of a wonderful talent. Death, the one thing we have in common – it will happen to us all one day. I think about it a lot, but not in a morbid way. I believe our physical lives here is a testing ground for our eternal spiritual life; we learn here, we learn there and so life goes on. What lives for ever is the impact we make on other people; hoping to leave a good name and good memories, a lasting legacy and that when we go our lives will be something to celebrate.
Having said that, we also suffered another loss. Some of you may recall my stories of ‘the Ferrari driving lech’ – he died – what a shock that was. He lived his life to the full and I imagine he has found a great golf course up there with an excellent nineteenth watering hole. Of course his passing meant I conveyed my condolences to his cousin, my ex, as they were very close like brothers and good friends. You’d think after all this time hearing his voice wouldn’t affect me; it did. I am still confused, still don’t understand how we are where we are, especially when he still calls me ‘doll’. This one’s for him!
We’re apart – for now
You’re doing your ‘thing’
But, when day is done
We’ll likely be together
In the world to come
You’ll think you’ve gone to hell
In heaven, I shall be
That, my love, is destiny
The v-vixens have also been suffering a shock and loss and reactions around blogdom can be likened to a bereavement. I’m surprised Kleenex sales haven’t boomed.
Detective Robert Goren is leaving lo:ci! Detective Robert Goren a fictional character, the creation of the brilliantly talented Vincent D’Onofrio and the most fantastic fantasy fodder ever. Vincent you naughty boy, you knew what buttons to push and that women would be swooning over gorgeous multi-talented sex on legs Goren. However, thank goodness Vincent D’Onofrio is real and lives on. Our detective is leaving the show and mercifully not in a bag or wooden box, which means the door is still open, but I won’t hold my breath!
I asked elsewhere, did he jump or was he pushed? I don’t think it would have taken much of a shove for Vincent to exit stage left and I am excitedly looking forward to his new projects, maybe much bigger parts for us to savour on the big screen (take that comment how you wish). Sure Bobby Bobby will be sorely missed; I’ve been watching the show again from the very beginning on Quest, not that I needed that to see the enormous changes in him, the storylines, the intros, etc. and not all necessarily to the improvement of the show. I don’t belittle Vincent’s acting talent; he had to do his best with lousy writing and no amount of decent direction could rescue that – I’m sorry, but to discover he was the illegitimate son of a convicted serial killer and his ‘on the verge of dementia’ aged puny mentor bumped off his nemesis and we didn’t actually get to see the happy event, were two threads too far off the radar. I always believe it’s better to leave on a high, so hopefully the powers that be will pull out all the stops so that the two hour special series opener will be Vincent, Katherine and Eric’s high notes. Imho, ITWSH was brilliant – it can be done again!
… guess this is how the vixens feel!
… which means the traffic to work will be horrendous – getting to work in 10-15 minutes the past six weeks has been a joy – now it’ll be back to the 30-45 minutes stop start stop start… yawn yawn yawn
Jonathan just sent me the pics and, of course, proud booba had to share. The exciting news is that they’re all coming to London in a few weeks for the whole of Sukkot. Originally I was going out there with my mother after the chagim (the jewish holidays) but when they suggested coming here I was over the moon. I shall be there again in January anyway for the birth of number three. Sorry, I blog so infrequently that I don’t think I got round to mentioning that exciting piece of news. In February there’ll be another special trip, like the one I took earlier this year, and PG I’ll do it again. We’ll likely visit different sites, but no doubt we’ll meet with the same angels and certainly the same victims of terror and their families to see how they’re getting on.
I feel a bit strange doing this rambling post, as it’s been so long. I’m stuck at home carless, since it’s gone in for a service and altho’ they offered me a courtesy car I couldn’t be bothered and thought I’d make the most of a day at home to make my honey cakes and kugels. As usual my home will be turned into Hotel Raven over all the festivals, but I wouldn’t have it any other way; I love it when they all come to stay.
Book Club is still going strong. I wasn’t enthralled with George Eliot’s pontificating in Daniel Deronda. If I had managed to get that far I’m sure the Jewish element of the book would have fascinated me as it was quite something for a sympathetic viewpoint to have been written in Victorian times – however after 300 pages and nothing happening, I confess to giving up. I don’t need the book for the knowledge it imparted, since that is marked in the archives of history and I know it well. Last night’s offering was Anita & Me by Meera Syal. This received mixed reviews mostly by those who criticised the writing style, which I had to agree was over-anecdotal and the description in parts was over-laboured. However I could forgive that because the book was semi-autobiographical and offered a good insight into the life of a young, bright, mouthy Asian girl brought up by well-educated and aspiring parents, the only coloured family in a small 60’s Midland’s mining village. Many regard the book as filled with humour, but it’s a bittersweet story and I think the humour used is a defence mechanism against a backdrop of desperately wanting to grow up and be like, and be liked by, her peers (“What do yow wanna be when you grow up chuck?” “Blonde!”) and her introduction to racism, both when she learnt about her parent’s struggles with partition and the dawning of racism in her village during the Enoch Powell years of “Paki-bashing”. The ending sadly was a big disappointment. It was like a fairytale, which I will not give away, miles away from the substance and depth of the book, and there is a depth to it. I know it’s a bugbear of mine, but why oh why, when I’ve enjoyed a book so much, do they always end so poorly? Next month’s read should be a hoot – Bill Bryson’s Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, so watch this space! I won’t go into everything I’ve read recently – enough’s enough!
Next week I start a new writing course and I am absolutely terrified! Although I love poetry, and I do need all the help I can get, the first part of the lesson is fiction – I used to think I had a book in me – in fact I think everyone probably does – but I lack discipline and motivation and am easily tempted away when someone says do you wanna do lunch or go shopping and my penchant for certain cop shows is a major distraction. A hobby is a hobby; my blog is as brave and as far as I’m prepared to go at sharing.
Did anyone see the latest adaptation of Wuthering Heights over the weekend? Sorry, did any Brits? It makes me want to revisit the novel, because I don’t remember hating Heathcliff as much as I did this time and how could Cathy not want the charming and handsome Edgar… and and and what about that scene in the coffin… ach! I didn’t know that the ‘wuthering’ of the title is a Yorkshire word for turbulent weather. This version was not true to the story but for all that it was a pleasant diversion for a bank holiday weekend.
Right back to the Kenwood – I’ve just taken one cake out the oven and it’s burnt – I was on the phone and I could smell it, but still waited for the oven to beep – duh!
A dear friend has suggested the reason I’ve not blogged for a while is because I don’t have a life – I think she may be right, especially when the highlight of my life this week was my excitement at filling my tank up for just under £40.00 – albeit with the benefit of 5p off a litre from a Tesco coupon – reducing the price to under 90p… wow! At first I was so excited to see petrol go below £1.00 a litre and am always comparing prices in my neck of the wood to those of North London where my car seems to go on autopilot round the North Circular, but it’s still an extortionate price so, excuse the pun when I say, they still have us over a barrel.
I’m still doing book club and last month’s read was my choice. I’ve always loved the writing style of Isabel Allende and hoping my friends would share my taste, I resurrected an old fav of mine, The House of the Spirits. Allende’s writing is so colourful and this book moved at a fast pace through four generations. One character who plays no great part, but is alluded to, is called the Poet and he was probably based on Pablo Neruda whose work moves me so much. When I had my London~Love~Vincent blog I felt his following poems perfectly mirrored Robert E Howard’s highs and lows in his relationship with Novalynne. As many of you know, I love poetry and I love Vincent D’Onofrio and I love TWWW; I shall never waiver from my belief that Vincent’s portrayal of REH was his absolute uber-best performance.
Write, for example, “The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.”
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes?
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses. Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
I do not love you except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it’s you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe January light will consume My heart with its cruel ray, stealing my key to true calm.
In this part of the story I am the one who Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you
Because I love you,
Love, in fire and blood.
Guess where I’ll be this time next week…