I have never read an Anthony Trollope book, and I know there are many of them. I have however seen the series ‘The Way we Live Now’ starring David Suchet and greatly enjoyed it. So when I spotted ‘The Barchester Chronicles‘ DVD I was quite looking forward to watching it. The series was first shown in 1982 and is an adaptation of Anthony Trollope’s first two Barchester novels (The Warden and Barchester Towers).
The stars are Susan Hampshire, Donald Pleasence as Mr Harding (a central character), a very young Alan Rickman as adversary Obadiah Slope and Geraldine McEwan as Mrs Proudie the Bishops wife.
The plot centres around a zealous Mr John Bold an over zealous young reformer, discovering that the unworldly Mr Harding is in receipt of a very good wage for doing next to nothing takes it upon himself to point this out to Mr Harding, who is by turn horrified and mortified as he really has no idea about financial matters. The newspapers get hold of this story and life for Mr Harding, from that point on, becomes intolerable.
I found this series a slow burner and didn’t think that I would like it, but the appearance of the slimy slithery Mr Slope (a kind of evangelical Uriah Heep with an eye for the ladies and not at all ‘umble’) played mesmerisingly by a very young Alan Rickman really livens up the series. Slope foolishly makes the mistake of making an enemy of the weak Bishops wife Mrs Proudy - and pays for it! Mrs Proudy (Geraldine McEwan) and Mr Slope provide a lot of comedy. The love interest is provided by Mr Hardings daughter Eleanor Bold.
The series was filmed in and around Peterborough Cathedral and on a BAFTA in 1982 for Design.
I really must catch up with reviews of all the books and films I have seen! The list is long, and although I do find myself taking notes (on the films) there never seems to be enough time to write it all down. So, in a nutshell here’s a pile of books which I have read this year alone and which I SHALL review!
Grayson Perry – Portrait of the artist as a young girl by Wendy Jones
The Shrouded Wall by Susan Howatch
Lancashire – Where Women die of Love by Charles Nevin
My Fault by Billy Childish (reading at the moment)
Some of these books aren’t finished though and I can’t review them until they are. Somewhere, I have acquired the habit of starting one book then after a few chapters, acquiring another book which I also start. Depending on which book is the most interesting – well, that’s the book will get finished at the time.
When I am in between any new books being bought, then these unfinished books will come out. The difficulty in the continuation of reading them lies in my memory of what they were about in the first place! What I mean is that although I can remember what the book is about, to actually get engaged or immersed in the book means retracing my steps and starting yet again, at the beginning! There are several books this has happened to (Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel is one of them) The list above shows just a few of the books I have read lately and some of these are re reads.
This poetry challenge is based upon a poem (well a bit of tomfoolery) I wrote ages ago and forgot about. But the idea for the challenge was inspired by Jesssica’s Japeswonderful poem ‘My Least Favorite things’. The challenge is simple – just write a poem to the tune/rhythm of the song from ‘The Sound of Music inspired by your favorite or least favorite things. To start you off, here’s the first bit of the Julie Andrews version. In case you don’t know how it goes – here it is on video.
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things!
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things!
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eye lashes
Silver white winters that melt into spring
These are a few of my favorite things!
When the dog bites, when the bee stings
When I’m feeling sad,
I simply remember
my favorite things
and then I don’t feel so bad!
Priests in white dresses With black satin lashes Rogan Josh curry In splishes and splashes Old folks that croak When they;re trying to sing These are a few of my favorite things
Figs and leaves soap and Lush bath ballistic People who bounce and remain optimistic Sober striped wasps that fly past and don’t sting These are a few of my favorite things When the shoes pinch and the roots show When I’m seeing red I always remember my favorite things And then toddle off to bed
Write your poem and link it to Bookstains (and a mention). You can include the button if you want. All poems are themed so make sure that your poem is appropriate for the Bookstains Poetry challenge if you are also entering it in a challenge elsewhere.
For example; ideally Van Gogh would relate to that artist and his life or his paintings in some way and Favorite things would be set to the tune ;Favorite things.
In return for linking with me I will put your poem on Bookstains, mentioning your site and Tweeting your poem. I will also promote your poem at the end of any post I write on my art based blog echostains.
All poems will be copyrighted to you of course.
The poems can be in any form including Haiku. They can be as serious or as humorous as you like. One liners shall not be accepted
Here is the post which inspired the challenge – it’s from the delightful Jessica’s Japes – a blog filled with witty poetry and prose. Always a delight to visit!
Raindrops on dry hair and whiskers on granny
Dull boring lectures and warm lager bubbly
Soppy and gossipy girlfriend who clings
These are a few of my least favourite things
Cream colored knickers and burnt peach turnovers
Cheesy ringtones and cold pizza leftovers
Old bra strap which at the worst moment pings
These are a few of my least favourite things
Slim girls in cute dresses with model like wiggles
Red spots that sprout on my nose and brown freckles
Dark hairy hunks who bore me in evenings
These are a few of my least favourite things
When the cat purrs
When the bird sings
When I’m in a fine mood
I simply remember my least favourite things
And then I don’t feel so good!
Our next contribution comes from Adam Dustus of The Dustus Blog, Novelist, Poet and Graphic artist – a great site for poetry, prose and poetry challenges - and it’s all to be found HERE! Here’s his very original take on the challenge:-
My Favorite Things Sounds Like Life
Imagine an author rejected by agents Piles of manuscripts rot in the basement Trying to capture what’s lost through no means Sounds like life music through lines that he dreams
Expressing emotions through vectors and color Writing too much ’cause he can’t find a lover Many see Jesus as resurrecting Sounds like life music through lines that he dreams
Breakdowns through trauma; forever seems fleeting Bombardment of images won’t equal feeling Being original is poetry Sounds like life music through lines that he dreams
And when the avalanche comes down As our carnival leaves town We still search for a reason through time… Exhaling sad sorrow Don’t cry for tomorrow Sing onto death Sounds like life
What I love about these challenges are poets different interpretations. We are all so unique and this really shows when it comes to poetry (which makes it all the more interesting I think) Our next poem comes from Kavita whose wonderfully creative blog ‘How I write, is mine – How you read, is yours’ is well worth visiting!
Tough Weakners
White butter clouds hanging oh so playfully From silver chords wound ’round sky’s own old pulley Azure heavens crisp and pure as can be Kissed and nudged by weightless zephyrs on sea
Caramel swirls of a sweet salted delight Set off alarms, sizzle and make me feel light Milk chocolate layers that melt on my tongue From moody dungeons back now I have sprung
Voice so rich like deep bass amidst clamor Eyes that pierce right through my heart’s hard armor Dense shadows of lashes dark, curled and long And trembling transparent like some frail song
If I can do I sure will do All that’s in my power… To blow a few bubbles and indulge myself In this warm sinful shower…
Here’s a gorgeous soothing poem by Stephanie who has started a lovely poetry blog ‘The Attic’ which promises to be a great hit – so please check it out
I’m Leaving for Dreams
Curled on the blanket with tucked teddy Turtle sung wailsome worry and back breaking hurdle time is undone under silver moonbeams this is the moment I’m leaving for dreams.
Eyes bright with fervor and passionate longing heart beating harder and whispers imploring when slipping under the warm bubbling stream this is the moment I’m leaving for dreams.
When I go dreaming, relief’s that I’m leaving walking on clouds to the soft steady breathing granting, the silence invites me to scream still it’s the moment I’m leaving for dreams.
When the head aches, when the heart breaks when the day is done I simply remember I’m leaving for dreams and then I don’t feel so sad.
Today is the birthday of Irish poet Seamus Heaney (b. 1939 Northern Ireland) Born into a farming family, Heaney went to the Queens University of Belfast where he studied English Literature and the English Language. He was to graduate in 1961 with a first class honours degree. It was during this time that he became interested in poetry. His head master Micheal Mac Laverty was a writer and he introduced Heaney to Patrick Kavanagh’s poetry, encouraging the young Heaney to publish his own poetry in 1962.
In 1963 Heaney became a lecturer at St Joseph’s Teacher Training College in Belfast. Phillip Hobsbaum who was then an English lecturer at Queens University noticed him and as he had already set up a young poets group in London which was proving successful, Hobsbaum then set up a poets group in Belfast where he was to include Heaney, Derek Mahon and Micheal Longley. Heaneys’ long and interesting career can be read here. He has received many prizes for his poetry (including the T.S. Eliot Prize (2006) and the Nobel Prize in Literature (1995) and two Whitbread prizes (1996 and 1999). He is regarded as an elder statesman of poetry. His work sells very well - two-thirds of sales for the work of living poets in the UK are for Heaney’s poetry.
The poem ‘When all the others were away’ (featured above) is about a treasured memory the poet has of his mother. Sometimes the quite simple everyday things in life turn out to be the most treasured – and the most poignant.
Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down
Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging.
The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft Against the inside knee was levered firmly. He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep To scatter new potatoes that we picked Loving their cool hardness in our hands.
By God, the old man could handle a spade, Just like his old man.
My grandfather could cut more turf in a day Than any other man on Toner’s bog. Once I carried him milk in a bottle Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up To drink it, then fell to right away Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods Over his shoulder, digging down and down For the good turf. Digging.
The cold smell of potato mold, the squelch and slap Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge Through living roots awaken in my head. But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.
Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I’ll dig with it.
Just when I think that things just have to get better, and they couldn’t possibly be any worse along comes the Salford bard John Cooper Clarke with his ‘Things are gonna get worse poem’. This poem puts it all into hilarious perspective Love this man’s poetry!
