sheldrake

Hello. I did hope to bring you another update on the Christmas cactus, which is now looking most impressive, but it always seems to be obscured by drying dishes whenever I think to take its picture... and by the time I've dried them and put them away, it's dark or I've forgotten.

My moods have been a bit odd lately - yesterday was a washout, but I've got a fair bit done today and enjoyed myself. Plus, new Doctor Who in an hour! Hooray!

I've been meaning to link to this for ages. Chimamanda Adichie: The danger of a single story. I love her writing and this is a really great talk, full of wisdom about the stories we tell ourselves about our world. Give it a watch/listen -- it's worth it.

I'm currently rereading Derek Jarman's Modern Nature -- one of my favourite books, and one I can read over and over (it's also full of underlining from when I used it for my dissertation back in college). I love it because it's so calm, full of meditations on gardens (it is in part a chronicle of the garden Jarman created in Dungeness) and history and memories, and yet there is anger and sadness there too. It's wildly romantic, and unapologetically subversive. The journal begins in January 1989 -- 20 years ago. Time flies...

I wanted to share this entry, because it made me smile.

( Dealing with tabloids the Derek Jarman way )

Yes, hello, I am back from the wilds of Sussex. It was lots of fun but now I am tired and very burnt. The campsite was quite strange, in a good way -- it had a sort of strange festival atmosphere without the bands. I think it might be the fact that campfires are encouraged -- the farmer drives around selling logs -- that brings out the party spirit in people. We saw lasers and fire-jugglers and hippies a-drumming and scouts and guitarists and those paper lanterns that float up into the sky and trailers all lit up like Christmas and, er, a caravan with a giant crucifix outside. That was odd. The site only had four rules: No fireworks; No music after 11pm; No dogs off leads; and No quad bikes or other recreational motorised vehicles. The only one we didn't see broken was the quad bikes, but there were motorbikes and the riders seemed to be having fun, so I'd say that counts.

Outside the campsite we did Bodiam Castle (endless steps, oh my legs, carp mouthing at us in the moat, National Trust doing the hard sell), Camber Sands (lots of brightly-coloured plastic, sand everywhere, bought a hat, too late, weird on-off weather), and some of us stopped off at Dungeness to see Derek Jarman's garden (see icon) and walk along the shingle looking for stones with holes in. The garden is really quite busy, considering it's absolutely in the middle of nowhere. I'd been there before, and once again I noticed the way everyone walked all around the cottage looking in the windows, then went up to the front door and read the tiny notice saying 'This is a private residence, please don't stare in at the windows'. There's also a bit warning you not to make pop videos or commercial films without permission ('This means YOU!) I think Dungeness is one of the weirdest places in Britain. Miles of bleak shingle stretch out, devoid of boundaries and dotted with small shacks, fishing boats, odd abandoned bits of iron and wood with sweet peas growing wild around them. Every so often a tiny steam train chugs by on the Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Light Railway, and out of it all rise the two lighthouses and the nuclear power station. Surreal.

Now it is Monday and (wonder of wonders) I am not at work. I will not be at work on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday either. galactic_jack just came round for a cup of tea and a chat and it was very lovely and civilised, none of this ridiculous 'being at work' business. Things should always be like this.

Right. Now for lunch. Apologies if all that made little sense -- I may have sat in the sun too long.