Glorious

Yesterday I started my Catalan lessons. While going to the language school, this was playing on my iPod. I couldn't help smiling.

GLORIOUS
by Natalie Imbruglia

Walking down to Frith street,
Dawn is creeping up on me.
Some girl's tears in a taxi,
Five o'clock shadows drinking coffee.

So this is what it feels like.
This is how it feels now I’m finally smiling on the inside.
This is what it looks like.
This is how it looks from the outside staring in.

And it’s glorious just to laugh like us
And the world will turn and it'll never stop.
'Cos I’ve nothing to hide, we’ve got nothing lose, oh yeah.

And it’s glorious yeah it’s all I see on a day like this you know
it 's meant to be.
Yeah I’ve got nothing to hide I’ve got nothing to lose, but you
And it’s glorious

Drinking wine back at my house
Remember someone said your name.
I somehow lost the conversation
I’d fallen a million miles away

So this is what it feels like.
This is how it feels when you’re finally walking on the inside.
This is what it looks like.
This is how it looks from the outside staring in.

Keep wanting a little, a little more. Keep walking, keep walking
Keep getting a little, a little more. Keep running, keep running.

Mother's Boys

I bought quite a few books by Margaret Forster while we were in England. Yet the woman is and has been so prolific that I still have plenty of books by her left to get, not to mention read. Sadly, though, many seem to be out of print and hard to find. A quest.

I bought Mother's Boys not completely convinced. The name was familiar but I hadn't heard much about it or, indeed, looked it up online, etc. But it was there - a rarish book, and the plot didn't sound bad. Besides, it was by Margaret Forster! And despite that one fiasco, I like pretty much everything that is written by her.

I've been more than just pleasantly surprised at this book - I have loved every word of it. Despite the hard topic and sometimes hard descriptions. The prose and the insight into the characters' minds - the empathy - is unique to Margaret Forster.

A boy, Joe, is randomly and viciously attacked one evening and he, as well as his circle, have to learn to live with what happened. Everyone copes differently. Not only is it hard to imagine how one would cope in such a situation, but also it's hard to decide who is acting in the most 'beneficial' way. On the other hand, Leo - one of the attackers - has to cope with what he's done too, as well as his family. Leo was brought up by his grandparents since teh age of three and it's not easy for them to adapt to this new situation.

The real story focuses on both 'mothers'. The grandmother has been like a mother to her grandson Leo and so the generation gap between them is not always that evident. There are parallels in their stories, but there are also huge differences. However, at times it's hard to see wo the victim really is. These two women have ended up in a place where they didn't expect to be and are now doing the best they can to just keep their heads above the water.

I wonder if the characters were named the way they were on purpose. The 'mothers' are called Sheila and Harriet, the 'fathers' Alan and Sam and the boys Leo and Joe. Each character's name shares vocals with its corresponding opposite.

Also, there are traces of Margaret Forster's own real life. Her daughter did indeed go to live in Africa and had a child there - although she returned home. And Sheila's father - after reading a couple of non-fiction books on Margaret Forster's family, is all too similar to her own father.

All in all, one more exceedingly satisfactory read courtesy of Margaret Forster.

Distribution of time

I obviously hadn't realised that things weren't exactly back to the normal I used to know. The normal I now know has a totally different distribution of my time and energies. So I think I spoke too much when I said I'd be posting pictures from the honeymoon regularly, as done in previous years. And the thing is, even if I did have the time and even if they're only landscapes and pictures of towns I'm not so sure I want to share them as in previous years either. I might post the odd picture in the future, from time to time, as the memory of a few wonderful days in August, but that's about it.

I'd rather post here about whatever is on my mind - even if only from time to time - than feel obliged (by myself) to post pictures. It will be more natural.

I now realise that what I've written sounds pretty gloomy, when in fact I couldn't possibly be any happier (well, perhaps less heat would make me even happier).

Marrying libraries

My books and his books had become our books. We were really married.
~ Ex-Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader by Anne Fadiman

I know I have lots of pictures to post from our honeymoon but other things keep getting in the way of posting.

As I mentioned before, we got through some crazy days of assembling furniture. The good thing about that is the outcome. We are totally in love with our new furniture and tend to stop and gaze at them. One of our best-loved items is - obviously - our bookcase.

While we were arranging our books I constantly had in mind Anne Fadiman's chapter on it. We went for an easier route than she did. Our books are all arranged alphabetically and - within the same author - chronologically. The big exception are the Brontës, who have a whole section devoted to them, with mini sections. We love looking things up now.

Reference books are elsewhere, though, in a rather free-for-all kind of bookcase.

Talking about Ex-Libris, though, that reminds me of a book I bought in York called A Book Addict's Treasury. It's this fantastic compilation of 'bookish' quotes. I guess I'll be posting some of them here in the future, because some are just great.

The joys of books indeed.

First Among Sequels

Reading, I had learned, was as creativea process as writing, sometimes more so. When we read of the dying rays of the setting sun or the boom and swish of the incoming tide, we should reserve as much praise for ourselves as for the author. After all, the reader is doing all the work--the writer may have died long ago.
~ First Among Sequels by Jasper Fforde

So here it is, my annual dose of Jasper Fforde. After a few years without the much-loved Thursday Next, she's made a comeback. And it feels great.

Although the characters in the Nursery Crime series were great as well and Jasper Fforde's imagination is never disappointing, Thursday Next was the very first thing and thus she's my favourite.

The book somehow builds up slowly, but leaving relevant clues here and there and with the kind of dialogues that I love. Full of winks at the classics and literature. Full of passing comments that any reader will appreciate and nod in agreement to.

The structure is similar to the one used in previous books. But that doesn't really matter. The originality of the book, the ideas, the situations, the descriptions... all make up for it and - even though you sort of know what's coming - make the journey truly enjoyable and you don't want to even miss a letter.

Great read, and as usual, impossible to describe. But once you read The Eyre Affair you get tangled in this alternative world and everything makes sense, even if you can never explain it properly to anyone else.

Back (sort of), and on DSL

Here I am, then. Back from a lot of things. And the good thing is that I'm now on DSL to be able to catch up with things as fast as possible too.

Things at home are now much less chaotic. Meaning that, even if there are still things to 'tweak' at least we're no longer afraid that they'll find our bodies under a mass of cardboard from Ikea. Actually, things are not only 'much less chaotic' but really quite pleasant and nice. I'll soon post a picture of our lovely bookcases, with our orderly books: in alphabetical order by author. Except for the Brontës, who have a whole bookcase for themselves. We can never get tired of looking at it.

Our room too looks like a small Brontë sanctuary, but a very lovely one. We're delighted.

I'll try and post - as usual - pictures from our journey. I took nearly 1,000 of them, so I will post a very select few. Only I'm not sure I'll be able to update the blog as frequently as I used to. But I'll try my best.

In the meantime I'm back with that beautiful picture on top. It was taken on from the train (moving!) on our way from London to York. We witnessed a gorgeous sunset and I consider myself very lucky to have taken this picture. That's not entirely accurate: I consider myself very lucky. Full stop.

Ikea-induced frenzy

I can't believe I ever thought things would sort of settle down after we returned from our honeymoon. Looking back now I realise that the days before the honeymoon were really quiet compared to what these days are! We keep going back and forth from Ikea, assembling furniture and throwing stuff away. All the time. We keep on hoping this trip will be the last, this trip will be faster... yet we never seem to keep our word.

But I love Ikea, even if I'm now somewhat tired of it. And the best of all is, we already have our love, much-awaited bookcases. We have joined our books and - despite some hilarious combinations that arise from ordering books alphabetically by author - I could just sit and look at them.

As for the honeymoon. I took like 663928638762 pictures, so I'll be posting some as soon as I have the time. In the meantime I'll only just say that we had a fabulous time in Yorkshire, as the pictures will show eventually, if things ever go back to normal, that is! We came loaded with books that are already placed in our bookcase.

Things are good, if crazy.