On Becoming a Hermit, Sort of ... Day 56

Day 56
(Monday, 11th May 2020)

A relatively lazy day, although a brisk walk up the lane and across the four fields with the GDP Taz was, as ever, a spirit raiser. B and I had a long FaceTime call with my brother-in-law in the afternoon, for the first time in, well, ever! He in his capacious home in the Deep South of rural France and we in ours, in the not so deep North of semi-rural England. It was a good catch up and we have vowed to do it again.

Boris Johnson’s announcement of a phased and conditional easing of the lockdown status was met with immediate criticism. It was vague and lacked clarity. On the face of the left of the political spectrum, it appears biased towards the ‘middle class’, who can continue to work at home and against those (dare I say ‘working class’ - aren’t nearly all of us?), who can’t, who are now being encouraged to return to work to get the economy going again. On the right of the political spectrum, there are cracks and divisions appearing inside the Conservative party about balancing the need of the economy with then health of the nation. As Chancellor Rishi Sunak said: “the single most important thing is that in order to look after the health of the economy, we need to look after the health of our people”; words to that effect.

That, I feel, is a good point at which to conclude today's post at the end of the eighth week of isolation.

Clemency's choice of music for today is as upbeat as you could want for a Monday: Harlem Syphony 3: 'Night Club' by James P. Johnson (1894-1955). James P. Johnson was known as a jazz pioneer. Father of the technique known as 'stride piano' and significant influence on the likes of Fats Waller. George Gershwin and Maurice Ravel would allegedly pop to Harlem to hear pianists like Johnson and would clearly learn from him. Sadly, despite that fact that he wrote sixteen musicals, more than two hundred songs, a symphony, a piano concerto, two tone poems and an opera, Johnson received little recognition from the classical world, at least until recently. I could prefer a reason fro this, but I'll leave that to the reader's own conclusion. 


However you may be affected by anything I've written here, do let me know by leaving a comment below or, if you prefer not to, talk to a loved one, a friend or someone you trust.

On Becoming a Hermit, Sort of ... Day 55

Days 55

(Sunday, 10th May 2020)

Ten years ago, I opened the April 2010 edition of ‘The Oldie’ magazine and some advertising flyers fell out, one of which was from the Royal British Legion. It was promoting fundraising for the celebration, on 8th May, of the 65th anniversary of VE day 1945, nicknamed ‘VE65’. There was also an invitation to write a message on a triangular card “to our heroes of 1939-1945” and return it the the RBL.

This made me think of the eulogy for my Dad that I wrote for delivery at his funeral five years ago. He was an RAF fighter pilot in WW2 and flew the Spitfire, amongst many other aircraft. He was shot down early in the war, but mercifully survived. I also fell to thinking about the meaning of what it is to be a real hero with real courage. For me, he was a real hero, because after recovering his shattered confidence, he got back in the saddle again, in the glaring light and full knowledge of the high risks all WW2 fighter pilots took with their lives, each time they climbed into the cockpit, even of that iconic fighter plane.

I returned this poem in the envelope, with reference to it on the provided triangular ‘flag’ along with a donation for the RBL.

This poem is also dedicated to my Uncle John, a medical doctor, who like his younger brother, my Dad, joined the RAF, but tragically died in Ceylon following a plane crash when he selflessly tried to save the life of the pilot but ended losing his own; he was posthumously recommended by his senior officer for the George Medal, but my grandmother told them not to award it posthumously, rather save it for another, who survived and lived to receive the medal in person.

In writing this poem, my muse reminded me of the glorification of war in so many films (movies), of which I saw my fair share in the 1950's, which may have been post war, but their sentiment was still a little propaganda-ish, at least until films like Steven Spielberg's "Saving Private Ryan". So, I was minded to draw a clear line between the handsome heroes, cast in neon lights by Hollywood, and the raw reality of war.

"Think"

(for Real Heroes)

Think nothing of your movie heroes

plastic coated with perfect noses

chiselled jaws and smelling of roses.

Let them instead remind you of reality

a reality that is raw

that’s in your face and now and more

it’s deprivation pain and blood

and fear, real fear, a taste of mud,

of fire or brine and feel the sweat

that chills your skin like death and yet

just when faced with their mortality

real courage let them go again

and go again, and go again!

Think only of Real Heroes, then.

© 2010 John N Anstie

All rights reserved

Today's choice of music from Clemency Burton-Hill's "Year of Wonder" ... Piano Concerto No.2 in F major, Op.102 2: Andante by Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-75). Compared with his other music, this is quite charming and beautiful and moving. He wrote it for his son, Maxim, who turned 19 years of age on this day in 1957.

However you may be affected by anything I've written here, do let me know by leaving a comment below or, if you prefer not to, talk to a loved one, a friend or someone you trust.

On Becoming a Hermit, Sort of ... Day 54

Day 54

(Saturday, 9th May 2020)

Three Zoom conferences today! Firstly, the meet up with our family at 11:00 for an hour and a half. It feels so good that we can do this now. Hallmark Horizon rehearsal at 1:00 pm for and hour and three quarters when we ran through “I’m Walkin’” with moves as well as “Call Me”, then the big reveal of the video we’ve been making for the past three or four weeks, Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in The Dark”. Tim has done a superb job of editing this together from our individual audio tracks plus video of all of us doing crazy things to camera. Can’t wait to share it in a couple of weeks after the BABSLive event on the weekend of 23rd/24th May. Finally, I managed to get Dave to collaborate in singing a four part harmony I’d arranged to sing happy birthday to Jessica, who is 11 years old tomorrow. So we had a one-to-one at 3 pm to agree how we’d do it. It turned out to be a success, I think, barring one chord which wasn’t quite right, but hey-ho, perfection can wait!

Now, that prose poem I threatened I’d post this weekend ...

"Waiting for God ... Oh Happy Days"

How long is it since I set out on a quest, my 

life’s mission, it seems like an age since I 

realised my first ambition to own a car, to 

drink a pint, legally, but not at the same time, 

obviously! Each step was like - I imagine - 

a fix of drugs, the only thing that I ever wanted, 

that brings the ultimate pleasure that cannot 

possibly be surpassed by anything other than

another fix of something newer, stronger, more in 

keeping with my current desires, my present, 

my expectation, my self-image, and when was it 

that I was introduced to Status, that fickle friend, 

who always taunts me, the little demon, who 

also seems to be up to their neck in sand and 

knows so much about me, too much, and 

strangely seems to have acquired me, as a 

chattel without so much as ‘by your leave’, but 

Ego and I are old friends, even though I didn’t 

know, it turns out, he has also known my new 

friend, Status, for longer than I, partners in crime 

it seems, strange how small and large the World is 

and that feeling I’m not in control, but damn! who 

had the audacity to tell me I’m not in control, of 

course I am fully in control of my thoughts, and 

actions are completely my own invention, all my 

own, I know who I am, what I want, where I’m 

going so don’t tell me I’m not in control, my 

friends all like me, for who I am, or are they really 

a reflection of my own missions, ambitions, and 

do I support them against their enemies, who 

they perceive, think, guess, assume I am against

... before another me arrived stage left, with 

thoughts that are different from anything I had ever 

espoused. Before this moment all I ever wanted

was the next portion of life served up at a price.

Now, whilst ego may still be important to us, the 

only status we need is to be alive, to live, to be 

living. All else is immaterial. So, where is God? 

Where is salvation for these sorry souls, faced 

with their mortality? I’m now remembering Samuel, 

who wrote of Him, or someone, who sounds like Him, 

about people, who wait for ever, for a pot of gold, 

for a favour, apparently owed, for an expectation 

assumed, an entitlement thought to be a right, 

to enable a mission, want, desire, dream, 

right of passage, an explanation of it all. 

Then I realised I didn’t have a clue 

… what we are waiting for.

And now?    This!

We should never wait. We should absolutely not wait. Life is not going to be served up on a plate for us. I know now that I’ve spent far too much of my life waiting for something that I was lead to expect would happen, something that would change my life for the better, that would magically transform me into the person I longed to be, or thought I longed to be, thought that I should be, according to the expectations I had grown up to believe I should have for myself, or that someone else had for me, imposed on my mindset, that was apparently the key to success and happiness. 

And so it seemed to be … until, that is, I began to realise that I am, like every being, a unique organic entity, with a unique set of abilities and aptitudes. Then I started to believe I could make things happen for myself and stopped allowing myself to be influenced by the expectations of others, especially the — soon to be considered pariahs of modern materialistic society - the marketing and advertising people, who want to make us believe in the idealised person we think we’d like to be, so as to persuade us to buy that nectar of the Gods, the machine that will revolutionise our lives, the technology that will give us ultimate power of knowledge, those things that will make us the more attractive, that will pave the way to financial success, wealth, power and influence, simply by buying into their purveyance. How frail is the ego. How flawed is our search for status. How fragile is life and how much of a leveller is the Corona virus that will not select its victims according to status, but according to the fact we are all a certain species of organic being. We are all humans, in need of purpose, compassion and love.

Two plays by Samuel Beckett, "Waiting for Godot" and "Happy Days", provided the original inspiration for this text.

“Waiting for God, Oh Happy Days” was first published in the BeZine blog on 9th April 2020. This version has been subject to further editing.

Today's piece of music from the "Year of Wonder" is Act 1 'letter scene' from Eugene Oregon by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-93). There's a great story - personal to Clemency Burton-Hill's life - behind this piece, but you'll have to buy the book to read it :) 

However you may be affected by anything I've written here, do let me know by leaving a comment below or, if you prefer not to, talk to a loved one, a friend or someone you trust.

On Becoming a Hermit, Sort of ... Day 53

Day 53 - VE75 Day, Total Victory in Europe Day

(Friday, 8th May 2020) 

As mentioned yesterday, some of the residents in our street are having a small get together. I commend them for doing something in difficult times. I did however let them know some days ago, that my personal feelings about this mean that I shall not involve myself. This is not to say that I'm against anyone doing something to commemorate a very significant day. Quite the contrary. I truly believe that, if anyone wishes to commemorate the VE75 (the 75th anniversary of the end of World War 2), in whatever way they feel appropriate to their own feelings and circumstances, street by street, community by community, then they should be encouraged to do so. In my observation over the years, such occasions seem to be divided generally into two broad groups. 

The first may be what could be described as a party, with drinking and eating and music or whatever combination of these anchors of a social gathering, and in an atmosphere that may be created within the groupings that people form to achieve this. All of this is, in a sense, a celebration that can only be a reflection of the celebration, in the true sense of the word, that occurred on 8th May 1945, when peace was declared, when, it has to be said, I would have been the first onto the street and probably the last at the bar, having a right royal knees up. It was really something to celebrate. But, come what may, I defend the right of anyone to express their feelings and opinions in whatever way they are able. As reference, I offer you the philosophy of John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), which I wrote in this blog nine years ago.

The second group comprise those, like me, who prefer to spend the time in quiet reflection, contemplation, and commemoration of the lives lost and permanently scarred by war, not least their own family and ancestors. That is what I prefer to do. Always have. I still enjoy a party. I love singing and celebrating, when it is something I believe is worthy of celebration. I am not a depressive, although, in a strange way, I do 'enjoy' a little melancholy (in truth I believe we all need a little melancholy) at times, for reasons there is copious psychological argument for, but that may also be the inner poet's muse in me. I confess that, in response to words or music or sad news, I have choked up rather more frequently than usual in recent weeks. It is no bad thing to respond in this way. Big boys do cry. 

We need, not only to understand the impact of war and the horrific loss of life, the scars both physical and mental that are brought about by war, but also we need to feel it, emotionally. Only in this way can we ultimately stand a chance of being better truly motivated, so as to exert some democratic lobbying force, to influence those in power who would take us to war; to ensure that there is an undeniably compelling reason to do so, which I believe there was in 1939, as indeed there was in 1914, although I have a different objection to the way WW1 was prosecuted, which lies in the military strategy pursued by its military commanders. But that's not for here or now. I will only offer you something I wrote three years ago on the occasion of the centenary commemoration of Passchendaele: Big Questions. 

All too often the public official ceremonies and commemorations are gilded with a certain amount of jingoistic pomp and ceremony that increasingly jars with me. In my perspective, there is an imbalance. There is too much political Ethos and Logos and not enough genuine Pathos involved in these events; in remembering.

It is perhaps not surprising that the piece of music Clemency Burton-Hill chose for today's date is the prelude from "Spitfire Prelude & Fugue" by William Walton. This was, she tells us, extracted from the score for the 1942 film The First of the Few about the aviation engineer, R. J. Mitchell, who famously designed the iconic fighter plane that my own Father flew and that formed the backbone of RAF Fighter Command. The title of the film was plucked from Winston Churchill's famous speech 'Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few'. This piece delivers on its mission as the backdrop to a significant morale boosting film. 

Today, exceptionally, I shall add my own music recommendation. It is in recognition of that note I make on the need for reflection and contemplation. Thus I offer, that word again the 'iconic' sacred choral work composed by Gregorio Allegri in the 1630's. "Miserere Mei, Deus" is a more difficult piece to sing, than it might appear. Fox Valley Voices, sang its first section in concert four years ago, in which I sang the (first) solo lines in Latin, but the timings and demands on synchronicity of those Latin texts, particularly later on when the choir is required to sing them together, is tricky. Nonetheless, enjoy this beautiful piece, the second half of which is sung here by the chamber choir, Tenebrae. 

However you may be affected by anything I've written here, do let me know by leaving a comment below or, if you prefer not to, talk to a loved one, a friend or someone you trust.

On Becoming a Hermit, Sort of ... Day 52

Day 52

(Thursday, 7th May 2020)

The second online Puppy Class went well this morning. B had already sent photos of both Meggie and Taz in the 'settle' position, where they stayed throughout our daily half hour session of Tai Chi on Tuesday morning. It was very impressive. The 'settle' command is relatively new from Guide Dogs. It is designed to 'habituate' the dog to lying down on a specific mat or blanket, when they are required to be quiet and in the background, whilst their owner might be having a cup of tea and a meeting with friends, or even, I guess, when they are working at a desk. It is clear that both Meggie and Taz have tuned into this very well. Pleasing. Just another quality that attaches to the overall experience of owning a very biddable dog.

A global death toll of over 260,000 people; over 30,000 in the UK alone, now second only to the USA! Whatever that implies. It isn't good, whichever way you look at it, however government ministers spin their news ... that the daily death rate is coming down, which it isn't actually, even if it is on a 'plateau'. It is still not good. Thirty thousand individuals, with names, with grieving families and friends.

"Lest we forget". Lest indeed. Tomorrow I shall post a poem, not sure which, but a poem nonetheless. Those, who have known me for long enough in our on line literary World, will perhaps be surprised that I haven't posted much in the way of poetry, at least until this week. But, hey-ho, as some keep saying, "these are strange times". I shall also be posting a new piece on the weekend too. My first ever 'prose' poem, in fact.

I think some in our street are planning to have some kind of a street get together, if not a party. More of this tomorrow. 

Today's music from the "Year of Wonder" is: Violin Sonata No.1 in G major, Op.78 1: Vivace ma non troppo by Johannes Brahms (1833-97). 

However you may be affected by anything I've written here, do let me know by leaving a comment below or, if you prefer not to, talk to a loved one, a friend or someone you trust.