Petrina Binney's Blog, page 72
January 27, 2019
Day #27 Rain Falling From Trees
Day 27 – and it’s time for trees.
Trees are the very reason why it always seem to be raining in Devon. The rain falls, as it would anywhere else, and then it takes a good few hours for the water to fall from the trees. I maintain it’s the reason why people in Devon have such soft skin. We’re permanently hydrated because of the trees.
[image error]
Now, don’t get me wrong: we had trees in Croydon. Lots of them. True, some of them had carrier bags trapped in them, but they were definitely there. Thing is, the trees in Devon have a way of looking like overgrown broccoli and it’s somehow comforting.
[image error]
As I type this, I can hear the rain coming down on the roof of my conservatory. It’s quite late on Saturday night right now, but the fact is, whether it’s still raining when I publish this blog or not… it’ll still be raining from the trees.
That’s it. Day 27 – Rain falling from trees.
January 26, 2019
Day #26 – Spanish Architecture
Day 26 – Spanish architecture. Now, I am thinking specifically of the Sagrada Família designed by Antoni Gaudi, but as I’ve never been to Spain, I may have romanticised the whole thing. Except for the joy that is photographic proof. Dear Lord, but look at these.
[image error]
And I’ve got to say that going to Barcelona is on my list of things I simply must do, largely because of this building. Truthfully, I think if I ever get there, I’ll barely make it through the door without fainting. I have yet to swoon to the point of unconsciousness at the sheer beauty of something, but I truly believe I have it within me to do so.
[image error]
The history of the Sagrada Família in Book One – I needed a place for Joaquin and Susannah to meet. I wonder to myself how many hours it would have taken me to flip through books and harass travels agents if I didn’t live in such a technological age. I would have done it of course. Little trip into town with a notebook and a list of queries, probably one question fewer than I’d need. Thankfully, Google has made my life so much easier. Anyway, I was looking for somewhere classy in Barcelona, somewhere pretty which would lead people to fall in love simply because of where they were. And boom – there it was, in the images section, and my heart tore open.
[image error]
Construction began in 1882, and its projected completion date is somewhere between 2026 and 2032. I think the fact that its not yet finished makes it even more beautiful.
Okay. There you have it – Spanish Architecture.
January 25, 2019
Day #25 – Black and White Photography
Day 25 – black and white photography.
With regard to the pictures in this post, aren’t they gorgeous? All found on Pinterest, which has become a new minuscule passion, although I can’t be certain that I actually know how it works. I’m at that point where I’m getting a lot of unique monthly viewers but I have no idea how to attract them as readers. But, really, who cares when this is the sort of image they exhibit?
[image error]
Frankly, I love all kinds of photography, but black and white has a special place in my heart. There’s something about a photo devoid of colour. Perhaps the contrast creates something deeper. A sort of reality which is stark, and kind of like a noir film. I adore noir drama. Noir dramas make extraordinary use of light. An interesting shaft of light can tell its own story. So much can be conveyed by the right lighting. I’m a former electrician, I know what I’m talking about here. Finally.
[image error]
We live in a woodland. Lots of trees. When the sun decides to shine, the light spills through the branches and occasionally finds a person. When it found her, my mother used to say, “Sun shining on the righteous.” It didn’t really count when the sunshine found a puddle, but when it crossed her face, she took it as a sign of good things to come.
So, there you have it. Black and white photography. Worth dissolving into.
January 24, 2019
Day #24 Books, Books and Additional Books
Day 24, and we come to books. Well, it took me long enough, you might be thinking.
And you’d be right.
Okay, so, books. It’s not just what we learn from them, or the echoes that call to us from the page and remind us of things we might have almost completely forgotten. It’s the smell of books. The feel of the pages. The need for them.
[image error]
I have bookcases, like anybody else – I don’t pretend to be special here – but the fact is, there was a time, long ago, when an ex of mine suggested that to make more room in my house, I could just… get rid of all the books. That should have told me everything I needed to know about her.
[image error]
(That is a very important quote. I wish I knew who’d said it. Whoever it was, I love it.)
I have books on ballet, yoga, chess, woodworking. I have books on travelling through France in the 1980s, and antiques guide from the 70s. I have a book called ‘How To Build Your Own House’. No kidding. And I can’t let any of them go.
[image error]
A time will come when I’ll have read them all. I suspect I’ll be very close to death by the time that happens, but the fact is, I need to read them all. There are so many things I don’t know. But I will.
So, there you have it. Day 24 – Books, and the ambition to read them all.
January 23, 2019
Day #23 Sudden Realisations
Day 23 of the 365, and this is a new-found wonderful thing…
That moment when you recognise someone, and you don’t know why, and then, quite suddenly, you remember everything about them. Sometimes, of course, this can be awkward, which sits with me quite well. But, since this project is to do with happy things, let’s start with actors.
Judith Roberts. Now, Aimée and I watch a lot of box sets. This is because the weather’s lousy and we’re not very much for the outdoors when the bird bath has frozen over. So, we’ve been rewatching True Blood and Orange is the New Black. Usually, we have the break of a film between box sets. Frankly, if we didn’t, we’d just melt into the furniture and it would become a matter for environmental health.
[image error]
It’s not as if we go without sleep for these things. However, between True Blood and Orange is the New Black, we watched Dead Silence, a creepy-leaky horror film with ventriloquist’s dummies and the legend of Mary Shaw. We decided to watch it because it stars Ryan Kwanten, who played Jason in True Blood. What we didn’t realise, and now startles me quite completely, is that playing Mary Shaw is one of the Golden Girls, the gaggle of older lady-lifers from Orange is the New Black – Judith Roberts. Now, every time Taslitz comes on screen, I start reciting the poem. “Beware the stare of Mary Shaw. She had no children, only dolls…”
[image error]
Okay, that’s enough creepy for one day.
Going back to the real world, just for a moment… there was a time, twenty-something years ago, when a knock came at the front door. We hadn’t long been in Devon, and my dad answered the door and chatted warmly. I didn’t follow the conversation, largely because I was watching Absolutely Fabulous, and nothing would move me from the sofa when Eddie and Patsy were an option. Quite quickly, I heard footsteps in the hallway, and a voice I seemed to know. It wasn’t til I heard myself say it, that I realised exactly who it was. It was my old science teacher from Croydon, Mr. Lloyd.
[image error]
Yes. I named a policeman character after him.
The other policeman is named for my maths teacher, Mr. Couchman.
Okay then, day 23 – sudden realisations in everyday life.
January 22, 2019
Day #22 Roses
Day 22, and here we go – roses.
A lot of the women in my family have Rose as a middle name. I’m one of them. My parents had this romantic little idea of the countryside, which, of course, included roses.
[image error]
So many of the images we hold as part of the countryside idiom and of love include roses. Roses around the door, taking time to stop and smell the roses, love is like a red, red rose. All that stuff.
I seem to recall that my grandmother had climbing roses growing against her house in north London. I suspect they were the sort my parents had in mind, but, you know, with less traffic.
Of course, I’ve held the idea of my name on a film poster in a special little pocket of my brain for quite a long time. I thought it would be ‘Screenplay by’, perhaps even ‘Based on her Novel’… Some years ago, there was a horror film called ‘The Exorcism of Emily Rose’. That wasn’t quite what I had in mind. Still, that’s only the middle bit. Naturally, if there is ever a film by me, I’ll show it at Movie Night.
Anyway, it’s important to give yourself a break occasionally. And why not fill that break with flowers?
[image error]
Okey-cokey – day 22 – from time to time, give yourself a break to stop and smell the roses.
Incidentally, Sex, Death & Canapés https://amzn.to/2MXOaXL is currently on a countdown deal, so the price has dropped from £2.99 to 99p, for a limited time only. Have at it.
January 21, 2019
Day #21 Family History
And here we are: Day 21. Well, we’re three weeks into the year and I don’t know about you but I’m feeling pretty chipper.
Book three is out, alive and well. I haven’t had a huge number of reviews but the ones I’ve had have been pretty great, so it’s all good.
Book one is in my local library. I had a lovely chat with the librarian down there. Like me, she has a Greek name, so I think we’ve bonded a little over that.
Anyway, getting back to the point. The subject I picked for today was Family History. Now, I don’t necessarily mean the sensible, well thought through, proper genealogical investigation stuff. I mean the stories we’re told from one generation to the next which might have nothing to do with reality. I am the latest in a long line of eccentrics.
My mother was a sweet-smiling nurse who skied the length of Norway. Now, I’m not entirely slow of wit. I know Norway isn’t one long ski run. The fact is though, if you tacked together all the miles she skied in Norway, it would equate to the length of the country.
Her mother was a small, buxom, Irish radiographer, who had three children and gave the longest name in the family to a small cat.
All I know about this cat is this: he was no bigger than a kitten even when he was full-grown, he was black as night, and his name was Digby Mortimer Dehilimer Fairclough Vincer. Because, of course it was.
[image error]
The other cat was called Jess, and I imagine she felt rather left out.
One of my uncles nearly shot my grandmother once. The baby of the bunch, he was at least five years younger than my mother and her middle brother, and so, he spent a decent amount of his childhood playing alone.
[image error]
One day, he decided to play cowboys, and was unlucky enough to find his older brother’s loaded air rifle. Using his mouth for sound-effects only went so far and in running through the house, yelling “bang-bang”, he accidentally pulled the trigger and shot a small hole through the kitchen door. His mother, standing only about an inch out of the line of fire, survived the accidental assassination attempt, and helped her sons to patch the hole in the door with balsa wood and entirely too much glue.
When their father came home, exhausted after a long day at work, my youngest uncle apologised profusely for nearly killing his mother. My grandfather didn’t hear a word of it, but sometime during dinner, he looked up and insisted on knowing what had happened to his door.
So, there you go, day twenty-one, a celebration of oddness in the blood.
January 20, 2019
Day #20 Tumble Dryer Sheets In Winter
I’ll admit, it’s a strange title but…
You never notice the smell in your own house, do you? You can guess at it, but it’s never as obvious as you find in other houses.
When my parents were planning the move down to Devon, they were advised by the estate agent to bake banana bread to coincide with the arrival times of people viewing our house. I’ve heard since that fresh coffee, flowers and ordinary bread work in much the same way.
When I was a kid, other people’s houses smelt of cats or bleach, sometimes Shake ’n’ Vac, nail polish remover, that sort of thing.
These days, I imagine my house to smell of – dog. I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t. There are four of them. But, especially at this time of year, there’s another smell that fills the air. And I notice it, only because it’s not there all the time. It’s like a visitor, someone from years ago, who I almost remember.
It’s been chilly, and so the radiators have been more on than not.
[image error]
When I was a kid, my mother used to clean the radiators with furniture polish. When the radiators came on, the hot air would rise, and push the smell of polish out across the room. She didn’t hold with the plug-in air fresheners. Liquid that close to an electrical outlet seemed a shade too risky to be worthwhile. So, furniture polish it was.
[image error]
Years later, when life got busier and convenience took over, the furniture spray was thrown over in favour of tumble dryer sheets. A couple of spring-fresh tumble dryer sheets stuffed down the radiators make the world a better place. At least, they make the sitting room a better place. As the heat kicks in and the scent bursts forth, I feel content.
And there you have it, my friends – day twenty – tumble dryer sheets in winter.
January 19, 2019
Day #19 Guinness
Oh, and it’s the good stuff today.
Guinness.
Packed with iron, the same number of calories as you’d find in a pork chop, and life blood to the poetically inclined.
There’s a very particular taste to Guinness – nutty, caramel, oaky stuff. Fabulous. Couldn’t possibly be mixed up with the Shoot-The-Horse or Sedate-The-Patient tones of lager or cider. (Both of which are fab, but don’t begin to compare).
It runs through my family like a black, frothy river.
[image error]
My mother’s mother used to drink it. Perhaps half a pint a day. It was her nod to her own health and heritage.
My dad used to drink a pint or two a week. My mother couldn’t stand the sight of anyone drinking from either bottle or can, because, and I’m quoting, “They store them in crates in warehouses and alleyways. Warehouses and alleyways, which are frequented by rats. And rats can’t hold their bladders, you know.” As such, my dad used to drink his Guinness from the glass, smoky mugs they used to sell at Woolworths.
[image error]
There’s a particular sigh which will forever be associated with Guinness for me. A thin, back-of-the-throat sigh. Every Guinness-drinker I know (and I know all of them) makes that sound on the first or second sip.
[image error]
So, when I was about seven, maybe eight, my dad was having a Guinness from his glass Woolies mug, and he let out the Guinness sigh. And I asked, fully expecting a lowered brow and a shake of the head, whether I could have a sip.
He didn’t even pause for breath. “Sure,” my dad said, “go ahead.”
I was certain he was joking but I took a sneaky sip before my mother could start what might have been a twenty minute lecture.
I’m sure I read somewhere that kids have different tastebuds to adults. That makes sense to me because, at the time, it was the foulest thing in all creation. One small sip and it put me off alcohol for the next fifteen years. I can only congratulate my dad. Very well-played.
So, there you have it: day nineteen of 365 Happy Days. Guinness and all the memories that come with it.
January 18, 2019
Day #18 Starlight
And we come to the subject of starlight.
Terribly obvious, oh so predictable, very girly to even mention it but whatever – starlight.
And I’ll tell you why. Because heaven forfend that I just leave something as it is. Firstly, starlight is completely awe-inspiring, mind-expanding, person-shrinking wonderment. And who doesn’t want that?
More though – I saw my first really clear moon halo the other night. Lacking the right camera and, indeed, the skills to use it if I had had it, I did a little Googling. This is as close as I can find.
[image error]
It was amazing. I made Aimée go out into the garden at three in the morning to look at it. Okay, I sound like a monster. To clarify: she was about to take Pumpkin out for a late-night whizz in any case. All I did was encourage her to look up. She agreed, it was incredible. Pumpkin did what a dog will do, which took the edge off, but it was still tremendous.
[image error]
I have three stars tattooed on my right wrist.
Years ago, I went out to lunch with a very dear friend who, in all honesty, wasn’t totally keen on the idea of women with ink. He was polite and asked, very gently, what had compelled me to get them. I told him they represented people I had lost who had become starlight. I was younger, and found it easier to think of it that way. I hadn’t expected to say it aloud, but there it was. Out there. Hovering over the salmon mousse. He smiled, and bought me another drink. It was a good lunch. There might have been whisky.
So, there you go, lovelies. Day eighteen of things to be happy about – Starlight.
