Listing / Learning

It would be nice to think that we are due an Indian summer, but at the moment I'm sitting in front of a light box, which will hopefully convince my body clock that it is not a time for hibernation.  September is a time of new beginnings, new stationery, new projects and excellent food, but this year it is feeling damp and cold.  I want to make pumpkin soup and knit, and not do much else.   

Over the summer I read "The Sword in the Stone":

"But in the Old England there was a greater marvel still.  The weather behaved itself.
In the spring, the little flowers came out obediently in the meads, and the dew sparkled, and the birds sang.  In the summer it was beautifully hot for no less than four months, and, if it did rain just enough for agricultural purposes, they managed to arrange it so that it rained while you were in bed.  In the autumn the leaves flamed and rattled before the west winds, tempering their sad adieu with glory.  And in the winter, which was confined by statute to two months, the snow lay evenly, three feet thick, but never turned into slush."  T.H. White, The Sword in the Stone

This is a great description of how we sometimes imagine the past to have been, although the winters certainly used to be colder in the Little Ice Age.  And this year there has been some kind of summer, albeit sporadically.  In 1816, 'the year without a summer', volcanic eruptions and low solar activity led to a cold, damp year.  Food shortages followed, leading to famine, civil disruption and disease.  Taking an umbrella on a day out is hardly that bad really. 

(The gardens at Arundel Castle, August 2011)

One of the reasons why I wanted to read The Sword in the Stone (apart from the Disney film), is that I read a quote from it in an interview on Gretchen Rubin's great site the Happiness Project.

"The best thing for being sad," replied Merlyn, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something.  That is the only thing that never fails.  You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds.  There is only one thing for it then - to learn.  Learn why the world wags and what wags it.  That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting."  Also T.H. White, The Sword in the Stone

And learning is what September is all about.   

Infrequently Asked Questions

In which I update my reader(s) and herald the dawn of a new era, or, at least, of Spring.

1. Would you like a coffee?
Why yes, thank you! But wait...... is it the afternoon? And I'm not out this evening? Then tea please.

2. Where are you and what have you been up to?
Hibernating.

3. What is the best way to stay cheerful in the winter months?
Plan A: Get hold of the biggest, fluffiest duvet possible, wrap yourself in it and wait for spring. Administer coffee at regular intervals. Dine on sausage and mash. Persuade a cat to sleep on your feet. Read.
Disclaimer - You may find this interferes unduly with your work and relationships. In which case:
Plan B: See the lemurs and marvel. Consider owls. Dine on sausage and mash. Read.

4. Aren't you a little bit obsessed with lemurs?
Yes.

5. Are you also obsessed with hibernation?
Yes. There will now be a ban on discussing this matter until Winter.

More grumbling about the cold

You may have gathered that I do not like January. It is cold, dark, and awash with "flu-like viruses" (i.e. "it's worse than a cold, it's not flu, your guess is as good as mine but I feel grim").

With the exception of some birthdays of lovely people, it's been a month best spent indoors, with a supply of DVDs, hearty food and a cat. Hibernation is also a good way to save £££, as noted previously, which is useful in the lean post-Christmas, post-early-pay-cheque wilderness of the end of a long month.

Still, February dawns, and although also cold, dark and pestilent, it at least has the decency to be short. And at the end of it: Spring (by my reckoning at least). My favourite fact (from this site) - "the Anglo-Saxons called February "Sol-monath" (cake-month) because cakes were offered to the gods during that month". Good plan. Cake-month it is then.

Meanwhile here are some notable February-themed events:

1. Candlemas - 2nd February
Notable for being the mid point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox, so we are 1/4 way towards midsummer already...... that was supposed to be a good thing, but now I read this and feel looming guilt at my lack of resolution progress. Tsk.

2. Groundhog Day - 2nd February also
In which a small mammal predicts an early spring or six more weeks of winter. According to the 13 groundhogs listed on Wikipedia, only five predict an early spring this year. Pants.

3. Valentine's Day
On which more another time.

4. Pancake Day
Which as a secular celebration is extra fun. Whereas in the past (or a stricter present) people would eat up all the fatty stuff before giving it up for Lent, now people (well, me anyway) eat all the fatty stuff and think "I'd forgotten how great pancakes are - let's do this again next week..."

5. New clothes in the shops
Are there blue and white clothes in the shops? Are some of them stripy? Do you look at them and think "Classic French resort wear, to be accessorised with a red handbag and a background of yachts", or even "Hmmm, perhaps it's time to stop wearing a duvet"? Then soon it will be Spring.

Two cheery thoughts for a cold, damp Sunday in January

In which I once again contemplate hibernation

Two Stephen-Fry-related gems

1. Immense gratitude to Stephen Fry for one of the most cheery moments of January - the mouse lemur, which he filmed as part of the 'Last Chance to See' series, is the best animal in the whole world. Here is part of his interview with Jonathan Ross on Friday - the mouse lemur bit is from 5.15. Its extreme cuteness may be one of the reasons for its being endangered - National Geographic says they are captured for pets - but may, I guess, also motivate people to prevent its extinction. The same may not be true of the very strange-looking aye-aye, despite its huge eyes. The 'Last Chance to See' BBC site has an amazing video of one finding its dinner in a tree.... Amazing wee creatures, both of them. Looking forward to the series.

2. Further cheers for Mr Fry also for the information, on this week's QI, that people in rural France used to sleep through the winter. This is just excellent. Previously my hibernating heroes were Moomins (who would fill up on pine needles before settling in for the long Finnish winter). This article ('Why Work When You Can Hibernate?') confirms the truth of this (French people, not moomins) and suggests tax incentives for hibernation.

More cider and less pine needles

So it’s been a while then eh? And in the meantime I have been (among other things):

1. Turning 30
Interestingly this more or less coincided with some articles comparing the current economic state with that of 1978, famous not only for great music, but also for strikes, unemployment and general economic peskiness. Which is one of the reasons why there are fewer 30 year olds about than you might expect (more on this later). Anyway, being 30 – excellent. Partly because……

2. Getting a job.
Which is very good indeed.

3. Reading ‘A Confederacy of Dunces’
Which was a birthday present. The characters were so great that at first I wondered if the plot was going anywhere and whether it mattered at all, but it was spiralling in to a series of marvellously satisfying conclusions where all the many people and events circled into each other and it all worked beautifully.

4. Going to Middle Farm
They have pigs and rabbits and ferrets and cows and horses and guinea pigs and about 50 types of chicken and some harvest mice, which are wee tiny things. There is also a cider shop in which there is Ashridge sparkling cider, which I have happy memories of drinking lots of and enjoying very much, so it’s good to have found it.

5. Listening to Jeffrey Lewis
Who is just great.

6. Unpacking the Big Duvet for the winter months.
Goose feathers. King size. Warm-coloured covers. Fluffy. Massive. Blissful.

7. Playing Mahjong.
Only once, and it is exceptionally complicated and requires further practice.

So that’s what I did on my holidays. That and a spot of early season hibernation (see 6 above). I think in a former life I was a squirrel, or a moomin, although moomins eat pine needles before settling in for the winter, which is a step too far for me.

Watch this space for bears, cats, winter, trees, resolutions, revolutions, hats, films and Hove. Hopefully.