Marriages and mobiles

Porno torture with techno overtures

Christmas

"Two Tumbles" and "Home Within an Hour of Sunset - NOT!"

Daisy reveals her lineage

It was not so long ago I posted pictures with some excitement of the new tandem, acquired at the start of the summer holidays.  It took a little while to get everything sorted out for active and regular riding, because the logistics are more than twice that of two bicycles really and you feel as though everything is really very new, even to an experienced rider. Perhaps in large part that is because my riding partner (called the "stoker" in tandem parlance!) is returning to cycling after a gap of many years.

There is a very obtuse link with the reading group book selection here; since "When we were Romans" is written as the first person narrative of a child and this point of view transforms the way we see the adult storyline shown to us (I shall blog this separately and the jury is out as to my opinion and comfort with the device, one famously employed in "the Story of the nighttime....".  I really want to check if it was employed much prior to recent times!).

But back to Daisy....  And by now I hope you realise that we have (sadly?) developed the habit of referring to the tandem by this name.  Then again we do not even have a manufacturer to name the thing by, although we have discovered she is highly unlikely to be a Santana brand and is very much of the seventies era cycle technology but souped up with added components to keep her going as time went by.  She could have been a Crestline, according to "tandem-geek" (a helpful member of a USA cycling forum).  She might, I suspect, have rather humble origins.
There is a host of new terminology that comes with tandem riding, and it can rapidly start to dazzle you as you find out more.  Turning to wikkipedia for tandems I learned just now that there is a "four bang technique" which can be employed in aligning one's pedals to apply pressure in a different way to the drive.... Even more scarey for me as the "captain" is the prospect of commencing cycling with the "stoker" clipped on to help me to get underway and clip in my cleats!  I am not sure we shall ever get that advanced, it is still quite a big step for me to contemplate open, MBX style toe clips for my partner to trial.... and for the forseeable future anything less than the "one bang per cycle" technique is strictly for when we suffer transmission derailings, and not anything I intend us to explore just now.  Stoker may be the one to decide any moves on this score...

I am reminded directly of the Raleigh "Palm Beach" which was my first bicycle with gears (Sturmey three speed, of course!).  It is particularly noticeable in the crank sets, which are both driven on the right side (very old fashioned, for a tandem) and in the frame fittings and handle bars.  Also the seat posts, and I can tell right away that the wheels are not original to the bicycle as these big fat ATB tyres have literally two or three milimeters clearance from the forks, particularly noticeable on the rear wheel which is always the more crucial and stressed and appears to be slightly out of true.

So I rather see Daisy as a seventies Disco chick who never quite glammed herself up and moved on, she still loves to get out there and make the moves but has had to concede to modern times and lose her tank-top and flares!  And what do I want to do?   Well if I can find her road tyres, new wheels, and sort out the derailing drive with some sort of tensioning or anti-jump plate (we mashed up her original and had to cut it away with tin snips!  A bit like losing her platforms!  If I can do all that and we can find the time to get our technique and fitness to a level where the six speeds and maxi-drive do the trick, then she'll yet wow them on the dance floor again!  And if we get to that level, I shall take my partner to the Herne Hill Velodrome for the "ride of her life" and see if she can make it up the wall and hit thirty on the flat, a taste of what track riding would be like for her, it would be such a thrill!

Categories of Engagement

It is not too often the personal intrudes on this blog (I hope!) But today I would like to indulge myself a little.  Anyone who has been here before will perhaps notice that there are a couple of new categories creeping in here.

One is cycling - and the tandem features (Now enhanced with lights and super bell and ready to roll!).

The other is marriage - and this is because I am now engaged to be wed, I have plighted my troth!  It will be a long engagement, but if any matters come up which I think I can talk about here (or even if I read anything which seems connected) then I may post to this category.

On which subject my fiancee thinks this blog would reach a much wider audience and I can see what she means (though am uncertain I really want the world and it's brother to be reading this - my hosting could not cope for a start!).  BUT I have decided to see if I can register the domain "eclectic.me" as a possible alternative.

UNLESS anyone has any better ideas for the name of this blog?  AND YES; I do realise the heading banner and design would be due for a complete overhaul as a result, then again I am quite keen to improve the site's accessibility and so should not mind this.

A post should be forthcomng to review the book "Chicago" soon and not sure what will follow from that, perhaps a thrilling account of the first tandem tour involving panniers and distance!

Tandem thoughts

I have filed this post in the category of Poetry, though whether the verse below deserves that accolade is a little debatable.

It's the entire lyrics to "Bicycle Built For Two (Daisy Daisy)" written by [[Harry Dacre]] (Copyright Unknown) and I remember it fondly from the movie "2001: A Space Odyssey" when HAL is being unplugged it seems to be one of his last memories to go, which is sad but necessary.

Something not at all sad is that by some miraculous turn of luck I yesterday became the proud owner of a tandem!
Pictures posted above also, I couldn't resist!

Who knows, perhaps I need a new category to add to the blog now, cycling?  But for the time being I shall content myself with this posting and perhaps with a future one with a literary theme of cycling.  I have read "[[The Third Policeman]]" by Flan O'Brien (which definitely has a cult following) and the Autobiography of [[Henry Miller]], both of which feature bicycles prominently (though I cannot find the Millar work on Wikipedia and have lost the volume, was it called "New York Tales"? Be good to hear if anyone knows and cares to comment).  I wonder what other literary works I can find with bicycles as a theme or plot device or even, dare I say it, character?  In the modern age with scroogle at our fingertips it is entirely possible I suspect for me to contemplate many months of reading books exclusively centered around bicycles and cycling!

There is a flower
Within my heart,
Daisy, Daisy!
Planted one day
By a glancing dart,
Planted by Daisy Bell!
Whether she loves me
Or loves me not,
Sometimes it's hard to tell;
Yet I am longing to share the lot -
Of beautiful Daisy Bell!

Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer do!
I'm half crazy,
All for the love of you!
It won't be a stylish marriage,
I can't afford a carriage
But you'll look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle made for two.

We will go 'tandem'
As man and wife,
Daisy, Daisy!
'Peddling' away
Down the road of life,
I and my Daisy Bell!
When the road's dark
We can both despise
P'licemen and 'lamps' as well;
There are 'bright lights"
In the dazzling eyes
Of beautiful Daisy Bell!

Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer do!
I'm half crazy,
All for the love of you!
It won't be a stylish marriage,
I can't afford a carriage
But you'll look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle made for two.

I will stand by you
In 'wheel' or woe,
Daisy, Daisy!
You'll be the bell(e)
Which I'll ring you know!
Sweet little Daisy Bell!
You'll take the 'lead'
In each 'trip' we take,
Then if I don't do well,
I will permit you to
Use the brake,
My beautiful Daisy Bell!

Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer do!
I'm half crazy,
All for the love of you!
It won't be a stylish marriage,
I can't afford a carriage
But you'll look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle made for two.

Art ideas

conceptual - crate at comm-tech - call it memories

acrylic on canvas

at centre yin yang with eyes in

around that colour wheel

around that rays of the words for colours

some of these read some black and some struck through to varying degrees

For annie - try to involve yellow sausages!

Polar Bear

So last weekend we went to see "Polar Bear" by [[Mark Haddon]] and I was really looking forward to it.  I had been quite disappointed to hear initially that we could not get seats, which also surprised me because I had it on good authority that the reviews were quite mixed.  So all the more exciting to be going and even taking a friend along and dinner to follow after the matinee.  Sadly our friend's partner was called away to Mexico City, and I think he missed out on something he may very well have enjoyed a great deal.

There is no interval and the performance is an hour and a half, but after seeing it I can quite see how no break is a necessary part to the entire piece.  The narrative is not chronological and as a result a break could add to any confusion.  I loved the set and the way it worked, it was not quite "in the round" but it had that feeling to it.  No one actor "upstaged" any other, though [[Celia Imrie]]'s performance was masterful, if you can use that word in the context.  I was embarrassed on entering the foyer to get her name wrong and think it was Imelda Staunton.

If I had to single any one actor as impressing me it would actually be the female lead though.  She played the part of Kelly who as it turns out is the manic depressive in the play.  When the play starts she is in fact dead, or at least we are led to believe so. As the narrative moves along and back and forth in time I personally began to wonder if there was some ambiguity on that score, if in fact her husband had become deranged and she was actually in Oslo and not the body in the cellar.

Our friend noticed and we all agreed that since we realise bipolar disorder is a big part of the play then we all thought the husband was the person affected by it (and of course he was, but only indirectly).  It is not until the change in scene that it becomes apparent Kelly is the primary focus for the bipolar, though there is the shadow of her father and his depressive suicide hanging over the whole play menacingly.

Later we have a Jesus figure (several perhaps!), and I especially loved the scene where he said true love is when the person you love does not know your name and went on to itemise the stages of decomposition of a corpse and the associated "symptoms". This was interesting, the husband is a philosophy professor and I felt we were being played with for Mr Haddon to display a knowledge of the subject on a par with mine (IE very amateur!).  Mark Haddon always manages to irritate me at some level, and in this play it was the mention of a coach tour through the philosophers of the ages and the "stopping at Kierkegaard for someone to be sick" which I thought was a cheap laugh (I have a LOT of respect for the Dane).

On leaving the theatre none of us could understand the poor reviews - apparently it was slated by quite a few critics - but since we believed there were good reviews too we settled on the play having "bipolar reviews"!  Over dinner I asked everyone what they thought they would remember from the play (we had all enjoyed it thoroughly).  For me ultimately it is the subject of suicide, mental disorder, family, and the ensuing trauma from the act and ripples down the generations that shall be my abiding interest and memory.

Ridership versus authorship

There seem to be word police inside my head sometimes, with a latent Mr Angry lurking to listen to them too!  This morning on Radio Four the head honcho of some coach company was spouting on about the launch of the Greyhound bus brand here in the UK.  I know what he intended to say.  I know what he meant. I listened to the Stephen Fry program on Radio Four which explained that saying "Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo" makes perfect sense, though somewhat puzzling and missing a possible conjunctive.

Yet it annoyed me intensely that he had used this word.

But anyone using authorship (v.) does not bother me at all and, more worryingly, I am prepared to accept the collective of a readership (n.) without the slightest qualm.... 

The Mr Angry seems to have gone away now, and I remember my earlier mention of the poetry book group, which turned out to only have TWO of us and the librarian.  I cannot remember if I was brave enough to read it out, probably not because it is so well known as an example of type. In any case I had read no Gerald Manley-Hopkins (more's the pity; my library was woefully inadequate in the poetry department and could supply me none of his work, not even anthologised).

Now the Mr Angry is coming back! Can you guess why?  Yes, it is that use of "anthologised"!

Funny business this language stuff!

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast;
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart;
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
   But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
   Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

For goodness knows what reason I had the idea Marvell was an American poet!

But I did know he was metaphysical, as we clearly see in this oft-quoted example. There's a link to a John Cooper Clark work here, sort of; see if you like it.

Since you have world enough and time
Sir, to admonish me in rhyme,
Pray Mr Marvell, can it be
You think to have persuaded me?
Then let me say: you want the art
To woo, much less to win my heart.
The verse was splendid, all admit,
And, sir, you have a pretty wit.
All that indeed your poem lacked
Was logic, modesty, and tact,
Slight faults and ones to which I own,
Your sex is generally prone;
But though you lose your labour, I
Shall not refuse you a reply:

First, for the language you employ:
A term I deprecate is "coy";
The ill-bred miss, the bird-brained Jill,
May simper and be coy at will;
A lady, sir, as you will find,
Keeps counsel, or she speaks her mind,
Means what she says and scorns to fence
And palter with feigned innocence.

The ambiguous "mistress" next you set
Beside this graceless epithet.
"Coy mistress", sir? Who gave you leave
To wear my heart upon your sleeve?
Or to imply, as sure you do,
I had no other choice than you
And must remain upon the shelf
Unless I should bestir myself?
Shall I be moved to love you, pray,
By hints that I must soon decay?
No woman's won by being told
How quickly she is growing old;
Nor will such ploys, when all is said,
Serve to stampede us into bed.

When from pure blackmail, next you move
To bribe or lure me into love,
No less inept, my rhyming friend,
Snared by the means, you miss your end.
"Times winged chariot", and the rest
As poetry may pass the test;
Readers will quote those lines, I trust,
Till you and I and they are dust;
But I, your destined prey, must look
Less at the bait than at the hook,
Nor, when I do, can fail to see
Just what it is you offer me:
Love on the run, a rough embrace
Snatched in the fury of the chase,
The grave before us and the wheels
Of Time's grim chariot at our heels,
While we, like "am'rous birds of prey",
Tear at each other by the way.

To say the least, the scene you paint
Is, what you call my honour, quaint!
And on this point what prompted you
So crudely, and in public too,
To canvass and , indeed, make free
With my entire anatomy?
Poets have licence, I confess,
To speak of ladies in undress;
Thighs, hearts, brows, breasts are well enough,
In verses this is common stuff;
But -- well I ask: to draw attention
To worms in -- what I blush to mention,
And prate of dust upon it too!
Sir, was this any way to woo?

Now therefore, while male self-regard
Sits on your cheek, my hopeful bard,
May I suggest, before we part,
The best way to a woman's heart
Is to be modest, candid, true;
Tell her you love and show you do;
Neither cajole nor condescend
And base the lover on the friend;
Don't bustle her or fuss or snatch:
A suitor looking at his watch
Is not a posture that persuades
Willing, much less reluctant maids.

Remember that she will be stirred
More by the spirit than the word;
For truth and tenderness do more
Than coruscating metaphor.
Had you addressed me in such terms
And prattled less of graves and worms,
I might, who knows, have warmed to you;
But, as things stand, must bid adieu
(Though I am grateful for the rhyme)
And wish you better luck next time.

       -- A. D. Hope

An effective rejoinder to a great poem requires a poet, ideally one who appreciates and respects the poet under attack. How surprising that an Australian poet was "up for it"!  And Mr Hope is a new discovery to me also, along with the "Wondering Minstrels" poem by email service, which could inspire future blogs whereby I tag them also; watch this space!

P.S. Oh dear!  Listening to the radio again after I posted and up popps a portmanteau! There is a media debate concerning [[chuggers]] and possible legislation.  Yet again, how strange that this term, newly minted, does not bother me in the least.  I shall have to think on this and make a spiritual psting, perhaps, someday.  Something to do with [[caritas]] and Greek no doubt.