dovegreyreader scribbles

Reading Journeys...

A lot of writers were kind enough to take me along with them on their journeys last year...

It is by chance that I seem to have been on a journey each month (more or less) with these twelve amazing books. Links back to original scribbles with just my thoughts on paddling down the Yukon still to come...

The Mighty Dead ~ Adam Nicolson

In Pursuit of Spring ~ Edward Thomas

The Salt Path ~ Raynor Winn

St Kilda - The Silent Islands ~ Alex Boyd

Coasting ~ Jonathan Raban

Swimming With Seals ~ Victoria Whitworth

A Single Swallow ~ Horatio Clare

The Odyssey ~ Homer (trans. Emily Wilson)

The Rings of Saturn ~ W.G. Sebald

At the Loch of the Green Corrie ~ Andrew Greig

Something of His Art ~ Horatio Clare

 

Central to all the journey reading before and since has to have been that June read of The Odyssey. I really wasn't prepared for the impact of this book. The understanding of all that had gone before and all that I have read since. I see it everywhere to say nothing of now being especially appreciative of a 'rosy-fingered dawn' when it happens. I'm hoping to read it again through next June too; it's a book that set the seal on summer.

I've been scouring the shelves for a few more journeys that might take my fancy this year. A sort of counter to all the holiday adverts that proliferate about now and knowing that we have committed ourselves to a project nearer home that will preclude much journeying for a while. It will be spur of the moment if we do.

Meanwhile nothing is certain in the journey reading either. Much depends on mood and whim but these seem like a good starter for some virtual packing and setting off...

Hungary and Transylvania with Patrick Leigh Fermor in Between the Woods and the Water

Stones of Aran - A Pilgrimage with Tim Robinson

Dublin to Tibet on a bicycle with Dervla Murphy in Full Tilt. (I do still have the padded attire from that 100 miles plus in New Zealand, might as well get the wear out them.)

From Wales to New Zealand and the Himalayas with Rebecca Loncraine's post-humous memoir Skybound about learning to fly a glider.

And perhaps a tramp around the Lake District with Samuel Taylor Coleridge in O Joy For Me! an account of the origins of fell-walking in the late eighteenth century by Keir Davidson.

And at the last minute I feel I must add another by Adam Nicolson as it was thanks to his patient, diligent and accessible explanation of Homer that I set off on The Odyssey in the first place, so Sea Room is added to the pile of potentials.

Meanwhile please do share any of your own journey-reading recommendations, because nothing is booked yet, I am armchair-ready for the off ...

 

Reading gallimaufry.

A round-up of recent good reads which includes extracts from my reading journal notes...

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

When a group of volunteers gather in a 'haunted' house as part of an experiment there's bound to be trouble. Vulnerable Eleanor Vance, until recently full-time carer for her mother, the enigmatic but seemingly confident Theodora, Luke Sanderson, nephew of the owner described as a liar and a cheat and overseeing the project Dr Montague. Everyone gives a false and slightly ethereal account of themselves, nothing seems true, not house nor people. With the narrative comes all the uncertainty as to whether what we witness is for real or a distortion through the eyes of  Eleanor in particular who, having arrived both depleted and susceptible, will encounter the most terrifying of the group's experiences. 

This all made me look into the background of Shirley Jackson a little more closely...what a strange life she led. I will certainly read more.

 

Every Man for Himself ~ Beryl Bainbridge

Our choice at Endsleigh for our 'One Author One Book' themed evening was Beryl Bainbridge. We choose an author and each read whatever we like. At this point I have to admit to owning a shelf full of Beryls but only having read one, well make that two now. She really is an author I feel I want to love and read them all voraciously but somehow it has never quite happened.

Every Man For Himself  a novel about the sinking of the Titanic and of course, as everyone boards the ship and I settled into First Class with Morgan, I knew exactly what was going to happen and when, so no surprises there, but our progress towards the disaster was very cleverly wrought. Drifting on from stage left and right would be the Guggenheims, the Astors, Lord and Lady Duff Gordon as well as Morgans closer circle of acquaintances with all their foibles. There is one hysterically funny incident which somehow epitomised the Beryl I expected...when Morgan finds himself trapped in the state rooms of a woman that he is particularly fond of only to hear her enter with a man he is not particularly fond of. The ensuing 'episode', and Morgan remembering a trip to a volcano as a child, needs to be read to be appreciated. Five star Bainbridge humour and I will read more.

Meanwhile if you have a favoured Beryl please do let me know which it is...as I say, I have a shelf full, it's odds-on that I have it sitting here.

The Distant Echo ~ Val McDermid

This was a listen rather than a read, but so excellent that I must include it.

Four students, slightly the worse for wear after a night on the town, stumble across a dying woman lying in the snow. They all know her as the barmaid from the pub they have just left and whilst one of them, a medical student, attempts to save her life another runs off for help. They are immediately considered suspects and placed in the frame for her murder. Fast forward twenty-five years when the crime is reconsidered as a cold case and once again they are in the spotlight. So cleverly plotted, and no I couldn't guess where it was headed for a very long time. Not too much gore by Val McDermid standards (The Mermaids Singing anyone?) and a  brilliant listen while I stitched.

All further suggestions for good Val McDermid reads gratefully received.

Every Good Deed ~ Dorothy Whipple

Sometimes nothing else will do but a jolly good Whipple. I picked up Every Good Deed & Other Stories one evening and read the 122 page story of the title in a single sitting. 

The gullible and naive but desperately kind sisters Emily and Susan take in a wily, scheming and utterly deceitful child from the local children's home..

'Every source of beauty they had opened to her ran dry in the sand of Gwen's nature. She turned all she knew to vulgar ends...'

And so she did. The sly and devious Gwen taking full advantage of the sister's generosity, they kind to a fault and trusting to the end... well almost. Every character and plot delineated with Dorothy Whipple's usual precision and attention to detail and the result a completely immersive story that has me thinking I must keep all my Whipples to hand for just those moments when all else pales.

Edward Thomas - A Life in Pictures ~ Richard Emeny

'Edward Thomas ranks as one of the foremost poets of the twentieth century, both in his own poetry and in his influence on subsequent poets. 'He is the father of us all,' asserted Ted Hughes.This book combines the story of his life until his death at the Battle of Arras in 1917 with numerous illustrations, including photographs, printed material and original letters, many of which have never been published before. The book will add to what is already known of Thomas and his family before and after his death by putting his biography into a visual and historical context.'

For anyone out there who is an Edward Thomas completist here's the book for you and how much I have enjoyed this one over the last few months, and especially given the Armistice 100 commemorations. Both Richard Emeny's full and thorough commentary on the life of Edward Thomas alongside the best collection of pictures of him (some previously unseen) have added to my knowledge and enthusiasm for a poet I return to often and the book is beautifully produced too.

As always, if you have read any of these please do share your thoughts, and of course  add your own recent reading gallimaufry in comments to give us all a starter for ten for 2019...

 

 

 

 

Couch to 50 yards...

It really was a mistake to whisper the words 'Couch to 5k' within earshot of Offspringette. Having added the Personal Trainer string to her bow whilst in New Zealand, she was on it in a flash and once I had downloaded the app there was no going back.

In fairness I had been considering it for a while. Whilst I do a fair few summer miles up on Dartmoor, the regular winter miles are more elusive, and I could definitely feel the lack of fitness creeping up and the pounds creeping on...but running...seriously?

For those that don't know what on earth I'm talking about, Couch to 5k is a running/walking fitness programme that encourages non-runners (like me) to work towards being able to run 5k in nine weeks time.

I can come up with myriad valid excuses when I put my mind to it...

Firstly what about the knees...

Really no excuse since my recent steroid injection, and the doctor did say 'Off you go then...get that well-oiled knee working.' I had the first injection back in March after a winter of painful discontent and it was nothing short of a minor miracle, so having been instructed to come back before it gets as bad next time I'd been in for a top-up.

So the knee is no excuse, and let's face it I'm not planning to pound out the mileage and run a marathon. If I EVER hint at such a thing, a half, or a quarter or an eighth of a marathon, please save me from myself.

And the the clothes...leggings? All this Sweaty Betty designer gear??

Really no. Just no.

And supposing someone sees me...

There really is the huge hurdle of feeling a bit of a self-conscious fraud to be overcome, but then the lane is very quiet, it's only going to be the postman who's in for a shock.

I've downloaded the NHS app and Offpsringette did the first week with me. You can select a choice of trainer who talks you through each well-timed session. We started with Michael Johnson, but that had me thinking I'd need to be setting a 400m record, so we swapped to Sarah Millican before settling on someone called Laura.  I'm just going up and down the lane in front of the house, early in the morning, in case Bookhound needs to call the air ambulance or anything.

The first week I had to run for sixty seconds at a time, and hell's teeth it was tough. I needed a lot of encouragement before staggering in for breakfast.

Three excursions a week, a day's 'rest' in between, but that was me running (sort of, I hesitate to call it 'running' just yet) possibly for the first time properly and intentionally since I was at school. Maybe one or two trots whilst a student nurse and there was a cardiac arrest, but then you were told off for running so I soon stopped that. However lurking, buried inside my legs, is the glory of holding the school record for 200 metres in 1969.

I dug out the school magazine for 1970 because of course I still have it...

Just in case this was a false memory, but no, there's the evidence, the previous year's sports day results...

200 metres...L.Chester...30.6 secs

Only about eleven seconds slower than Usain Bolt.

And there's my best friend June holding the 800 metre record.

I find it hard to believe that I was quite a good sprinter back in the day and enjoyed the competitive edge to racing, though I must confess I only held the 200 metre record by default. It was the first year it had been run and I just happened to win it. But life, career and motherhood intervened and running wasn't really something you did back then, nothing like the fashionable pursuit it is now. And certainly not distance running for me.

I did however once stand in for June who had been selected to represent the London Borough of Sutton in a 4 x 800 metre relay, but the race was on her birthday.

'Oh alright, I'll go along and pretend to be you,' I said when she begged and pleaded with me to do it.

My friend Gill lived near the running track in Ewell and invited me round for tea before the race.

Before the race...

I had done no training and how I ever thought I'd get round two laps I have no idea. Add in high English tea and Gill's mum's best chocolate cake ever, and I probably don't need to tell you much more. Sent off on the first leg 'to get us a good lead' I was well ahead at 200 metres but a clear lap behind the rest of the field when I came in with the baton 600 metres later, and very, very sick behind a bush soon afterwards. I didn't hang around for the wrath of my team-mates and I doubt June was ever chosen to represent the Borough again.

Talking of fashion, my perception of 'running shoes' apparently bears no resemblance to latter day requirements, and after three outings it was more than Offspringette could bear.

'Don't argue with me, I'm taking you out to buy you proper running shoes, you'll trip over in those...'

And so off we went laughing at the role reversal as she asked me if I could wiggle my toes, did they feel comfortable, did I like them...

In the end I had to close my eyes and choose the most comfortable pair, (plain black Nike) which I knew and felt were instantly right, whilst eschewing all the pretty, multi-coloured ones. No matter it's muddy out there, and quelle difference. Like running on nice soft springy marshmallows and with good arch support, which is all a blessing to the troublesome soles of my feet that seem to have lost all their padding with age.

Then there was the the whole thing about music...

I really have no idea what works for running and no headphones for me, it has to blare out because if I use headphones I won't hear tractors, but I cannot sit still under any circumstances if I hear Coldplay and Viva la Vida and so it has proved with scuffling along running. By the time I get to Perfect Day I'm doing my five minute warm down (get me) and the day does feel perfect, even if my legs feel slightly less so.

So that was me sorted and on track. Offspringette left the country but with words of encouragement ringing in my ears, and she has been sending me messages at about 8.45 am to make sure I'm out there.

I am.

I'm not so sure I'll make the 5k in nine weeks, but I'm going to keep going, maybe repeat a week if the step up feels to hard, and if it snows I'll just have to do it round the house.

Any more Couch to 5k'ers out there...

Any school record holders out there...

Were any of you as mad keen as I was back then only to find the enthusiasm for actually doing it dissipating with the years...

Any advice, and words of wisdom and encouragement most welcome...

 

 

 

 

 

Ready....Steady...

Firstly here's wishing you all a belated but very happy and peaceful New Year; one that prospers where you need it too and is gentle where it needs to be too. I hope you have all had a restful mid-winter break too. We've had a splendid few family weeks covering Christmas, New Year and Bookhound's birthday, but now that Offspringette is flying home to New Zealand it's time to fire up the desktop, wake up the scribbles and get started on a new year of reading and other exciting projects.

We bade our farewells at 4am this morning. I waved Bookhound and Offspringette off to Heathrow, standing in the lane in my PJs and wellies whilst going through every emotion that you do at moments like that. Back into a quiet and empty house but one full of lovely memories, it proved hopeless to try and get back to sleep, so I eventually gave up and took the dogs for a walk, and as I looked skyward, and thought about Offspringette aloft for 11,000 miles, I just had to marvel at the gods for delivering exactly the sort of morning my spirits required.

I'm fairly into gods right now having settled on the read of a book a day from The Iliad through January. This is probably on a par for cheerfulness with January 2017 when I read Anna Karenina, but I am really enjoying it all and look forward to picking up my delicious Robert Fagles translation each day, in its floppy US paperback format. Bookhound gets a potted resume at some stage along the lines of...

'It's beyond me why anyone would pick a fight with the Greeks...'

before I recount the day's events and he tries to look interested.

And those naughty gods. Stirring up trouble on a whim it would seem.

Meanwhile my Christmas reading, apart from The Box of Delights, which was pure enchantment, was Reckless Daughter - A Portrait of Joni Mitchell by David Yaffe. Offspringette is a huge fan too, and one with little choice having grown up listening to Joni from birth. And so we listened our way through the various albums. Much more about that soon but it was a terrific and fascinating read.

'Where are the guitars?' asked Offspringette having grown up with those around the house too.

'In the loft,' we confessed, having felt some time ago that maybe they'd done their time.

Offspringette is a keen as mustard player (no surprise there either, she's tripped over guitars since she could walk) but is left-handed. This, however, and always to our amazement, has never stopped her playing our guitars upside-down and just reversing the fingering. It's all enough to frazzle my brain as I watch, but anyway the guitars were retrieved, she tuned them all and we cracked out a few strummings between us. Bookhound and I stopped short of our John Denver / Peter, Paul & Mary ' Leaving on a Jet Plane' routine, for which everyone was truly thankful, but we have been told we mustn't stop playing and they are not to go back in the loft...

Do your children tell you what to do as well?

But enough of us, how about you...

Christmas reading...

Bookish gifts...

Prolonged Monopoly sessions

We need to know...

....GO...

 

 

The day thou gavest...

...isn’t ended here yet either, but I’m nipping in to send good wishes your way and sharing my owl shelf in this year’s card department.

We hosted our usual family Christmas breakfast with three ‘children’ under one roof for once, and it was the mayhem of the olden days. It’s the homemade crackers that do it. Same toys year after year, the wind-up clockwork reindeers, the whoopee cushion, the false teeth and everyone recognising their favourites.

We’ve opened presents (there will be no shortage of socks in this family for the foreseeable) and I have scooped, lovely books, diary, pen, notebook, thermal tops (thank you New Zealand), scarf and so many other special things. 

Bookhound is labouring away at the Aga and dinner will eventually be announced.

Meanwhile, I hope your day is going well. If you are on your own...well you’re not really because we are all sending you much love and season’s greetings, and if your house is packed to the rafters I hope you can find a tiny peaceful corner somewhere to stroke the new books that I feel sure will have come your way.

Eggy Missmass everyone, as the baby Gamekeeper used to say, and toasting ‘absent friends’ as we always say.

 

Wishing you all...

I thought I'd better get my Christmas good wishes to you all on here before the mayhem begins with Offspringette's arrival from New Zealand and the scribbles go to 'as and when'. I'll be popping in and out, and at some point on Christmas Day as usual (because I am always aware that not everyone has a houseful) just not in a very organised, scheduled, pre-written way, until January 8th-ish. I have some very exciting reading and other projects lined up for next year and can't wait to get started and share them with you all, but for now it's time for family all under one roof (briefly) for the first time in three and a half years, hearth and home beckon. 

Meanwhile I wanted to wish you all a peaceful, gentle happy Christmas, and to thank you all for your reading and participation this year. Thank you for comments, for emails, for cards and letters, for support via the 'Donate' button, and thank you to those who I know read quietly but are out there and appreciating this place. Your presence in whatever form is valued beyond all measure.

In such uncertain times I think perhaps we could use a bit of feeling wrapped around and secure at the moment, and the best way I know to offer that to you is to share my very most favourite exhibit in the Stromness Museum.

Merry Christmas everyone xx

 

 

 

 

 

Christmas Reading..

It's that time of year when we must all declare our Christmas reading plans.

It doesn't matter if none of it gets read, it's the thought that counts, though I will read A Child's Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas as I do every year.

As usual I have resisted putting Bleak House on the pile again. One day, one day it will have its moment but this year my plans are modest as reading time may not be a top priority with Offspringette around, though we will probably continue our Boxing Day tradition of lighting the fire and hunkering down around it with a pile of books.

So I have three books lined up as well as The Box of Delights by John Masefield which we thought we'd read together. I have started it and am loving it. Complete and believable enchantment that seems not the least bit out of the ordinary to Kay Harker, so it's already a winner for me.

Has anyone else made a start?

On my stack, the latest book from Diane Setterfield Once Upon a River, due to be published in January.

'On a dark midwinter’s night in an ancient inn on the Thames, the regulars are entertaining themselves by telling stories when the door bursts open and in steps an injured stranger. In his arms is the drowned corpse of a child. 

Hours later, the dead girl stirs, takes and breath and returns to life.

Is it a miracle?

Is it magic?

And who does the little girl belong to? 

An exquisitely crafted multi-layered mystery brimming with folklore, suspense and romance, as well as with the urgent scientific curiosity of the Darwinian age, Once Upon a River is as richly atmospheric as Setterfield’s bestseller The Thirteenth Tale.'

It is a long time since I read The Thirteenth Tale, and for some inexplicable reason I missed Bellman & Black, but Once Upon a River is getting glowing five star pre-publication reviews so I am very intrigued.

Likewise The Skylark's War by Hilary McKay, about which I also hear very good things...

'The Skylarks' War is a beautiful story following the loves and losses of a family growing up against the harsh backdrop of World War One, from the award-winning Hilary McKay.

Clarry and her older brother Peter live for their summers in Cornwall, staying with their grandparents and running free with their charismatic cousin, Rupert. But normal life resumes each September – boarding school for Peter and Rupert, and a boring life for Clarry at home with her absent father, as the shadow of a terrible war looms ever closer.

When Rupert goes off to fight at the front, Clarry feels their skylark summers are finally slipping away from them. Can their family survive this fearful war?'

And finally I have been waiting all year to delve into Collected Ghost Stories by M.R.James. Happy Camper 'A' read it last Christmas and enthused so much that I have had my beautiful hardback copy on my Christmas 2018 shelf since January. On her recommendation I'm going in...

So over to you...

What Christmas reading do you have lined up...