Thoughtful Dog Walker

2007-12-05T07:57:00.000Z

Miss A and Miss M

I thought this was a fascinating story, beautifully written. It is a very English story. Set in the twenties between the wars, Taylor takes a coming of age story and by using a narrator with forty years of knowledge and experience from after the events, creates a story with deep undertones. We are given a story about the approach of change, of progress and of the fragmentation of the remembered landscape of the past. It is about the way in which women in an age where male company was scarce developed friendships and found companionship with other women. It echoes time past and time future.

A woman, now in her fifties, looks back at the events of her childhood and sees herself as an adolescent, fatherless city child, spending her summers in the country staying, with her mother, at a guest house. What does she see? A world of women: Miss Louie and Miss Beatrice, two elderly ladies, they could be sisters but we are not told that they are. They are known by their Christian names in contrast to Miss Alliot and Miss Martin. There is Mrs Price and her daughter Muriel. Mrs Mayes, who gives Shakespeare recitals, and various elderly spinsters. We are told little of their past histories and only Mrs Price’s husband is mentioned. Of all the women it is Mrs Price who is slightly out of sync, her topics of conversation and her copies of the Illustrated London News hint at another way of living. In this existence the girl has the freedom to roam, to grow and to discover. Although she spends more time in the town it is in this country landscape that she puts down roots.

Taylor contrasts the school term, traffic and leaflessness with the cherry orchard and croquet-lawn and walks through the leafy valley. This is balanced by the contrast between Miss Alliot and her inclination for ‘orange and yellow and grass-green’ and Miss Martin who ‘liked misty blues and greys’. It is Miss Alliot for whom she develops a school girl crush, who she wants to impress during the summer, but it is Miss Martin who replies to her letters during term time, Miss Alliot who sees her as ‘the child’. It is Miss Martin who she befriends when Miss Alliot abandons her at Christmas.

The story reverberates with echoes, there are the real echoes shouted across the valley; her declaration of love for Miss Alliot mockingly returned is echoed by her visit with Jamie at the end of the story, when they shout one another’s names, which are clearly returned. There are more subtle echoes too. Could Miss Alliot and Miss Martin become Miss Louie and Miss Beatrice? Mrs Mayes recites the Balcony Scene from Romeo and Juliet where she plays both male and female parts, this is echoed by Miss Alliot’s discovery of Rosella Byng-Williams, the girl who is playing Sidney Carton (himself a ‘double’) in the school play, which in turn is to be echoed by women taking the role of men in industry and in the fields during the second World War. The narrator runs off to Breezy lodge and echoes the sayings of Mrs Price, and in turn echoes Miss Alliot’s sayings in her diary. What is Taylor saying here? That what goes around comes around, that things don’t change?

The events of the story unfold over a number of years, we are not told how many years but the reference to the five year diary at the end is a possible indication. We are given glimpses only of the girl’s relationship with the two women, who are both central to the story but also removed from everyday life at the guest house. They have lunch and supper at the guest house but stay at the cottage at the bottom of the garden. The girl is not invited to visit after supper, she is not part of their relationship but an appendage, in the same way that she is not yet a part of the adult world. We may consider her acceptance of Miss Alliot’s cruelty as callous by today’s standards, but as she says: ‘I considered myself sharp for my age: now I see that I was sharp only for the age I lived in’. At the time she welcomed the attention from her idol and did not truly understand the hurt being inflicted, later in the story she becomes more aware of Miss Martins feelings. When she visits Breezy Lodge during the half term holiday she waits for the door to open wondering if Miss Alliot is going to be there: ‘I feared my own disappointment as if it were something I must protect myself and – incidentally Miss Martin – from.’ It is during that visit that her innocence begins to fall away, her very presence in the cottage means that she has been admitted to the part of their life that she has previously been excluded from. When Miss Alliot watches her undress for bed she feel ashamed of her underclothes with there Cash’s name tapes – a symbol of school days – and then she turns her back on Miss Alliot’s gaze. I think this is the first time she is even vaguely aware of the physical relationship between the women, and it is Miss Martin who steps between them giving protection.

The last summer holiday arrives, Miss Alliot is preparing to marry – a marriage of convenience? Miss Martin is already beginning to fade as the two women empty the cottage. For the girl her age of innocence is falling away, she meets and spends time with Jamie who is also staying at the guest house with both father and mother (the nuclear family), his presence disrupts and she becomes aware of an alternative to the female world that she has lived in until now. ‘Time was racing ahead’ for her, she is ready to enter the adult world.

Is Miss Martin’s suicide a few months later symbolic of the end of an era, and the starting gun for war and fragmentation? I am left wondering whether Miss Alliot found happiness in her marriage and how the intervening years have treated the narrator and what has lead to this reminiscence. Memory is selective, can we really remember how we felt at a young age or does experience colour those memories?

2007-11-12T22:14:00.001Z

A couple of pictures from our walk last week around the village of Elsdon

2007-11-12T22:02:00.000Z

It is some months since I updated this blog. The most important thing to have happened since February is that we have moved from Leeds to Glanton, Northumberland. This has entailed me leaving my job and Neil transferring from Leeds to Alnwick and going from full time to part time. These are all pretty big changes for us. Moving to Northumberland is something we have wanted to do and talked about for sometime, we both love the area and I, as an only child, wanted to be nearer to my mum as she got older. Well we are nearer because we have moved in with her, and it is working out ok at the moment. It has meant a change of role for me, I am now chief cook and bottle washer whereas before I went to work and got home to a hot meal because Neil finished work before me, house work was shared and mostly done in a rush at the weekend. Now I am not working and Neil gets home about 2pm and I have a meal waiting for him.

Village life is different too, quieter but with more social gatherings. The beginning of November saw the start of the fox hunting season, and the first meet is always at the pub opposite our house, so we have a grandstand view of hounds, horses and red coats. Dozens of people from the area congregate to watch and meet one another, then some go off afterwards to follow the hunt by car. The Fox hunting ban does not seem to have made any difference, although I don’t know how many foxes they caught in the past or what happens now.

This was followed closely by bonfire night, as I have said in a previous post, in Guiseley this was like living in a war zone for two or three nights depending on which day of the week the 5th fell. There were about half a dozen loud bangs in Glanton, and I saw a couple of fireworks burst in the night sky while I was out walking with Trixi but did not hear the corresponding bang.

Trixi has adapted well to the change of routine and country life. She particularly enjoys the longer walks we try to take on Neil’s days off. Again things are a little topsy turvy, in Guiseley we could walk into the country, here it is mainly road walks from the house and we have to go further a field for a more country walk through the hills. Luckily we don’t have to go far as Glanton is situated on the edge of the national park.

So what do I miss from the old life? The people mainly, the reading group I set up and reading in general. I no longer have the 20minute commute twice a day when I used to do most of my reading and although Neil still goes to bed before me I tend to spend my evenings chatting or watching TV with mum rather than reading.

Are we glad we made the move? yes

2007-02-01T21:03:00.000Z

When I went out with Trixi last night, the full moon was flickering behind the clouds, there was a slight breeze and it was chilly. As I walked up towards the field I was amazed to see that the sheep, had settled themselves in a circle. There were no sheep outside the circle but there were some dotted within. This image made such an impression on me that when I got home I wrote:

Solid in their heavy fleece,
Discoloured by the wintry weather,
The sheep had settled
As if planted by ancient hands,
In henge formation,
Under the sway of the pregnant moon.

No sheep tonight – perhaps they were an apparition!!

2006-11-19T21:54:00.000Z

At the Bay
Katherine Mansfield

I enjoyed reading this story, Katherine Mansfield captures the feeling of summer freedom so beautifully. The story is full of well observed details, from the encounter between Florrie the cat and the sheep dog to the inhabitants of the bay and their daily rituals to the physical nature of the place. I love the description of Lottie getting over the stile, I felt I was a secret observer, and you can just picture the 'exhausted-looking bathing-dresses and the rough striped towels' hanging over the veranda drying. She concentrates on individuals with the exception of the Samuel Josephs, but they are treated as a single organism working together, or possibly against each other. I was curious about the absence of Mrs Trout, there is no mention of her at all. All the children have individual characters and are given the same weight in the story as the adults.

As others have already commented, the story seems to be dealing with freedom or the perception of freedom. Freedom of childhood, of youth, widowhood and age. It is the parents who seem to have a raw deal, as they are aware that the freedom they are experiencing is short lived. Linda relaxed, for a short time alone in the garden escaping from the dread of having children. Jonathan Trout escaping for two weeks from the dreary office job, however his freedom continues because he can dream and plan for his great escape. Stanley caught in his own insecurities and Beryl waiting for life to begin. Short lived freedom can be very unsettling. All this is set against the daily changes in the landscape around them, the tide comes in and goes out, the sun rises and falls, how insignificant we really are. Is it about having the freedom to find our individual place in the natural world, or was she trying to capture a time from her past?From Kates posting it would appear that the story was special too her.

I must admit that I didn't feel the darkness of the story, but as I read I was waiting for something to happen.

It is a story that with live with me.

As a post script you may be interested to know that Persephone Books have just published a new edition of Katherine Mansfields Journal which includes a reprint of Virginia Woolf's 1927 review.

2006-11-03T21:08:00.000Z

FireWorks

November 3rd and the house is surrounded by bangs, wizzes, shooshes and cracklings as people enjoy fireworks. Luckily Trixi is not too bothered by the bangs although she gets a bit spooked if she notices the lights. On our walk tonight I noticed that the sheep in the field we walk past were all on their feet and bunched together. They seemed to feel apprehensive about the loud and unusual noises.

I remember as a child being mesmerised by the Catherine wheels and roman candles, far tamer than the fireworks of today, they produced arks and fountains of coloured sparks. I used to try drawing them, one way I had was too cover a piece of paper in different coloured wax crayoning and then cover the whole piece in thick black paint. Once this was dry you could scrape off the black paint to reveal the colours underneath, like a scraper board. I never felt my efforts were satisfactory. I remember going to the village bonfire and having hot dogs and being well wrapped up. Communal bonfires seemed to be more popular, and we rarely had fireworks at home, although we were allowed sparklers. You could use them to write your name against the black sky.

At eleven I went away to boarding school, and we always had a big fire and spectacular fire works. Mr Ilife (froggy) the music teacher was always in charge of the fireworks. Baked potatoes wrapped in silver foil were cooked in the embers of the fire, one for everybody. It was always a good night, and I remember being in tears at the end of the night during my last year because it was the last firework night. It was the culmination of a fortnight of high excitement at school, which included the return to school from the half term break, and then we always had a Halloween party which was fancy dress followed by the fireworks on the Saturday nearest the 5th, a good start to the run up to Christmas. For Halloween the first year girls were given the job of hollowing out turnips, no pumpkins in those days, this task was done in the girls changing rooms and the smell of turnip lingered for weeks afterwards.

Since school I haven’t had much to do with fireworks, my last dog used to get terrified of any loud noises and since fireworks started to go off from the middle of October and continue well into November taking her for walks was a bit of a nightmare and I used to feel very stressed. In recent years though the letting off of fireworks appears to be concentrated to the weekend around the fifth.

2006-09-15T19:58:00.000Z

Jane Eyre

'Charlotte Bronte's tale of an orphaned girl who becomes governess to a precocious child. Staring Samantha Morton and Ciaran Hinds'

Radio Times listing Tuesday 19 September

That might be what the film is about, but it is not what the book is about.

2006-09-05T20:29:00.000Z

The Scarlet Shoes

I was standing on platform 2A at the gloomy end of the city train station the other evening at the end of a tedious day waiting for arrival of the 17:32 and thinking of nothing in particular, when a pair of scarlet shoes on the opposite platform grabbed my attention. It was like looking at one of those adverts where everything is presented in shades of muted grey except for the product being marketed. In this case the product was a pair of open toed, high heeled, slightly sparkling scarlet shoes. Apart from the striking colour and general style, so unusual for the time of day, the finer design points were lost over the distance of the two rail tracks, but what really drew my eye to them was the way they moved around. They could have been the red shoes of the fairy tale. They seemed not to stay in one position for more than a few seconds.
Of course they did not move around on their own. They fitted snugly around feet which were attached to a pair of shapely legs, a skirt that should have been 6cm longer, a mane of blond hair and a mobile phone.
A pair of toes faced me across the divide, one ankle wrapped around the other, then one shoe would fly into the air while the other did a neat pirouette and I would be looking at the heels both solidly planted on the ground hip distance apart ready for action. They would then turn to the right and take a few steps and then a few steps in the opposite direction. An extravagant knee high kick in the air, a twirl and the toes would be facing me again. It was like watching an aerobics exercise or line dancing. Ankles crossed and step to the right and turn and too the left and kick and twirl and ankles crossed and turn and forward and back and kick ...... Those shoes knew they were something special and they wanted to be noticed. I was transfixed for a good five minutes until my train arrived - on time and the shoes were blocked from view. I wish I had had my camera with me.

2006-08-29T20:28:00.000Z

More pictures from the weekend.

This is a very pastoral view. The tree is a very old and beautiful Oak tree. If only it could talk what tales it could tell. I am putting together some images for a calendar for Mum for next year and I think this is one of the ones I will use. The stone wall that you can see at the bottom of the picture runs along the road and it is covered in lichen which creates a wonderful texture.

I love the effect of dappled sunlight and this picture sums up the day for me. Looking at the image I can hear the wind rusling the leaves and feel the heat of the sun on my arms, see the blue sky and the big white clouds moving across. I love the pattern of the leaves that are silhouetted against the sky. I know that in years to come I will be able to look at this picture and remember taking it and remember the day.

I have been fascinated by shadows this summer, the most obvious ones have been of borders; walls, fences, hedges. When you first look at them they look sharp especially if the sun is very bright but if you look closely they are always slightly blurred. This has led to thoughts about borders, edges, rules, conventions. How many of these things in our lives have blurred edges, issues that at first seem black and white when examined closely are many shades of grey. Society creates rules and conventions to protect or make us conform, fit in. We create our own borders - our own personal space, our own rules to create a comfort zone where we can live comfortably. As a species, however, we have survived, become all powerful by breaking rules, crossing borders, stepping over the edge to see where it takes us. The trouble is once we have crossed the line we can not always get back, we loose our footing and are compelled to go forward, making away for others to follow, then we have to deal with what we have discovered and make more rules. There is a blurred line between calculated risk taking and foolhardiness. Without the risks we would not develop, the thing is to know where to stop - where to draw the line.

For individuals crossing borders or living by a different set of rules or conventions can lead to alienation, being an outsider. If you don't take risks and spend your time in your comfort zone stagnation can set in, you loose your 'get up and go'. You become an automaton following the rules, obeying commands - a golem? (the book is getting to me).

The risks I take are calculated ones, my Dad used to say 'if in doubt don't'. I am usually in doubt so I don't but every now and again I need a bit of excitement in my life. I need to break out of my comfort zone and expose my weaknesses and strengths to myself, even if no one else knows I am doing it. Actually when I think about it, it is when my comfort zone is becoming uncomfortable, when there are intrusions that I break out - rebel is probably a better word. The adrenalin is flowing and I am less aware of the risks I am fighting to re-construct my comfort zone.

The riskiest thing I have done so far this year? Probably starting this blog.

Do you know the spell checker does not recognise blog!!

2006-08-28T21:18:00.000Z

We have spent the weekend in Northumberland visiting my Mum, which has been very relaxing. The weather stayed fine, we only had one shower just before we left. Here are some photos taken this morning. The first is looking over towards Cheviot and the second is Trixi and Neil 'playing'
I seem to be having problems with everything I do tonight, so I will call it a day and add some more photos tomorrow.

2006-08-28T20:38:00.000Z

The Golem

What I have learnt so far.

A Golem is a creature created from the ground by man and given the form of man and given life. However it does not have the intellect of man and obeys its creators orders.
In the Jewish legend the ability to create and give life comes from a deep understanding of the Cabala, an important form of Jewish mysticism based on the writings of The Book of Splendor, (Sefer ha- zohar) written in Spain between 1280 and 1286 by the Cabalist Moses de Leon, although attributed to the 2nd-century rabbi Simeon bar Yohai.

By using the knowledge gained from the study of this book it was possible for a few rabbi to give life to effigies by the use of mystical words. The golem may look like a man, but it lacks personality and intellect and is unable to talk. It will obey its maker and only it maker can take away its life returning it to the ground from whence it came.
The most famous golem was created by Rabbi Yehuda Leow the Maharal of Prague. It is around the legend of this golem that the book by Gustaf Meyrink is based.

The Golem legend in Clay by David Almond

The golem legend plays a major role in this book.

In Clay the character Stephen Rose has a gift of being able to model clay into life like figures. He is a disturbed adolescent who doesn't seem to be comfortable among his peers. He has recently been expelled from the local Catholic seminary and has come to live with his Aunt who is known to the local kids by the name of Crazy Mary. His ancestors were show people who specialized in hypnotism. The local Priest encourages David and Geordie (who are altar boys) to befriend Stephen.

Stephen confides in David that he can give life to his clay models and persuades David to help him make a life size clay figure that they will give life to and who will protect the boys from the local bully.

David’s part is to take some if the consecrated bread and wine and put it in a locket which will be embedded into the clay figure.

The golem created that is given the name of Clay, has two masters Stephen and David.

2006-08-18T18:48:00.000Z

Here is a picture of Trixi our dog. She is about 11 years old, but we have only had her two years in November. She came from the Dogs Trust home in Leeds and has settled in with us really well. My husband spoils her, and she is completely devoted to him.

We live near the church, and bell practise has begun which is a sign that I should be getting ready to go for our walk. More when I get back, I am going to publish now because I want to see the picture.

2006-08-18T18:30:00.000Z

Written on Thursday

The snails are out again tonight after the torrential rain we had here this afternoon.

Had a really good day in Liverpool yesterday, it was so nice to be out of the office and to have no one to consider but myself. I took Clay to read on the train and read most of it. I enjoyed it. It covers some big concepts; good and evil, life and death, creation both artistic and godly. It is about adolescence, the no mans land between childhood and adulthood, and lost innocence. It is also about the Catholic Church. It covers the Golem fable, because a clay being is made and brought to life. It is a strange and mysterious tale, I would like to know what the children who read it think about it.

The book fitted in well with the photography exhibition I saw at OpenEye Gallery and the Henry Moore exhibition at Tate Liverpool. The photography was by Hellen van Meene, who photographs adolescence and captures their innocence. The photographs are difficult to put in any genre as they are not formal portraits or documentary photographs. She works with the models, ordinary people not professional models, setting the scene and sometimes providing the clothes that they wear. After the gallery talk and learning more about the images I was left wondering what was real and what was fiction, similar to my feelings when I finished Clay.

The Henry Moore sculptures at the Tate, were lovely, I really like his work. They are very much about creation and dialogue. I so wanted to run my hand over them, but that was not allowed. Although most were made of bronze or marble I could connect them to the clay used in the book to create the golem creature.

It has all given me a lot to think about. I have also found a couple of other books which use the Golem fable; The Amazing adventures of Kavalir and Clay by Michael Chabon and He She and It (Body of Glass) by Marge Piercy. Why do I have this interest in The Golem? Something for me to think about.

2006-08-15T20:37:00.000Z

On my way to work I pass by a canal, and this morning I saw a charming sight. There was a covered wire running along the side of the canal and then dropping into the water, as I walked passed there were three sparrows who were taking it in turn to land on the wire and then hop down towards the water and have a little drink and then fly up to the bank again so the next one could have a go. Charming may be looked upon as a quaint word these days, but the sight charmed me and put a smile on my face.

I was right about last night, it was a late finish. The book we were discussing was Happiness by Richard Layard; I would class it as Popular Science and not the normal sort of thing that we read. In the book Layard is putting forward a new social policy based on scientific evidence about happiness – I think, I must confess I only read half of the book and half of the conclusion. It provoked a good discussion, about what happiness is and what causes happiness. We all perceived happiness in a different way, I felt that it was an extreme emotion that is difficult to maintain, while someone else felt it was a much deeper emotion and what she described I would call contentment. When you start to think about it there are so many words to describe emotions and they can all be used in several ways.

The next book we will be sharing is The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole, and then The Abbess of Crewe by Muriel Sharp. We are a small group, eight in all, and we have been meeting for nearly two years now. I initiated things by putting posters up in some of the local shops, library and railway station asking people to contact me if they were interested in forming a group. I only got two replies, but we all knew someone else who was interested and so managed to get eight together. In the beginning the main concern was how to choose the next book, but now we rotate and bring three books and decide as a group which we should read next. We are going to look for a published reading list to try next. Over the two years a good and supportive atmosphere has developed, and although sometimes in our discussion we stray away from the book, we always have a good time.

A couple of other books I want to read soon are Clay by David Almond, it is set in Newcastle upon Tyne, my home town and writen for children. It sounds like a good read, 'A haunting and compelling novel' The Guardian. I also want to read The Gollum by Gustaf Meyrinck, which I think I am right in saying is a Jewish fable, but I may be wrong. I have wanted to read it for sometime and I think it will follow on well from Clay.

I am off to Liverpool for the day tomorrow, it is my 'cultural development' day. Although I work in a visual arts organisation I don't get out of the office much to see real exhibitions. So I get a cultural development day when I can get out to visit galleries. Last year I went to Newcastle, and this year Liverpool, I will be visiting the OpenEye Gallery, which is a photography gallery and Tate Liverpool. I am looking forward to it. I love photography and hope to put some photos on here soon.

2006-08-13T20:15:00.000Z

Trixi and I have just got back from our evening walk, there were a lot of snails about tonight after the rain this afternoon. They are amazing if you look at the way they twist around stems and climb up walls.

Another weekend drawing to a close, they go so quickly and I never have time to do all the things that I have planned to do, however we have not done too badly this week. We have posted our first Offer on the freecycle site for Leeds and already have 6 replies. We will have to draw the name from a hat tomorrow.

It is also my reading group meeting tomorrow night, which will mean a late night, as we tend to sit and chatter once we have finished discussing the book and choosing the next one. It would be good if we could build up reserves of sleep so that if we lost an hours sleep one night we could with draw an hour from the reserve to make up for it instead of trying to get through a day feeling tired. I am off to bed to prepare.

2006-08-11T18:43:00.000Z

Having worn short sleeved shirts during the heat of the last few weeks, I put a soft wool jumper on this morning. When I put it on I got that weird sensation on the skin, it is difficult to describe, I guess it is due to the skin being more sensitive after being bare. Anyway I find this feeling comforting and homely - snugly, perhaps it awakens some long forgotten childhood experience. A nice experience.

Summer is drawing to a close, there is a certain smell in the air first thing when I take Trixi out and I noticed this morning that the blackberries are beginning to turn, and some of the Rowen berries are already red. During the week we usually take the same route for our evening walk; up the road, round the park, down the snicket, along the road and through the town, up the road, past the church and round back home again. Sometimes we go over the stile and through the field after going past the church. In the mornings we only walk up the road and round the park.

Trixi has only two bad habits, one is attacking anything that comes through the letterbox and the second is grabbing hold of her lead when you set off for a walk. With lead in mouth she prances, dances and shires her way up the road until she comes to a really interesting smell. For some reason she can not smell with the lead in her mouth, having rid herself of the lead and had a good smell we continue in a more orderly manner. Because it is very quiet in the mornings I have tried to set of without putting the lead on, but she stands in front of me looking expectant and won't walk.

I have really enjoyed finding out about blogs this week - starting my own and adding comments to A Curious Singularity. It has given me a real buzz to a engage with other people about Chekhov's Lady with Lapdog. I have enjoyed reading other peoples views and it has made me think about the story in ways I wouldn't have done if I had read it in isolation.

I still have a lot to learn about blogs, but it is fun learning.

2006-08-10T21:09:00.000Z

Well this is my first posting, and I am not sure what to write, and I am still a bit unsure how everything works.

When I walk the dog, Trixi, morning and night I tend to use the time thinking, nothing momentous just random thoughts about the day ahead or what I have seen during the day and I thought it would be nice to make a note of these thoughts. I have never been very good at keeping a diary or journal so to begin with I have promised myself to try to update at least once a week. I also hope to add photos to the blogg, I often take a camera with me when I am out walking and I like to record the seasonal changes that show in the world around me.

Over the past couple of weeks I have been in contact with my local council about a dog bin that had not been emptied for weeks and was overflowing with plastic bags. I rang them three times and contacted my local councilors. Yesterday the bin was emptied, and I feel as though I have achieved something, which is a good feeling.