Gillian Polack's Blog, page 251
May 6, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-05-06T23:41:00
Tonight was astonishing.
My mother and sister arrived in the late afternoon, bearing gifts.
We said to each other "What should we do for dinner." I was happy to cook something, but explained that we would have to pick up ingredients first, since anything other than basic shopping this week has simply not been done*. I have much meat and milk and cheese, but meat and milk and cheese do not a dinner make. I should have done the shopping on the way home from the cardio, yesterday, but I was worried about my birth certificate and I forgot.
Jenny said "I would like to see Tony." I wasn't sure who Tony was, but a lot of Jen's friends are in hospitality, because that's where she herself has worked for many years (this is my-sister-the-wine-and-olive-oil-expert) so I assumed this meant dinner out. Mum thought that a dinner out sounded good. I asked where Tony worked and she said "Italian" and "Braddon" and I said "I have to change into something respectable then." Immagine, wearing decent clothes several times in a fortnight. It's so out of character.
My family went to dump their things (and have discovered a good cheap place for Conflux attendees, just a few minutes drive from the convention hotel - sleeps up to five in a room) and had a bit of a rest, while I frantically did bunches of work to make up for the last two days. I'm almost caught up now, and will still be fine for a day off tomorrow. Just a bit more tonight, and I'm done. And I won't be able to sleep for two hours anyway. Which brings me back to...
Jen's friend works at Shop 6, Italian and Sons. Tony fitted us in for the second sitting.
It was quite an extraordinary evening. It always is a learning experience, being at a table with someone from the industry. It's simply not the same as normal dining. Tonight was the same, but with knobs on. Everyone chatted for the three seconds as they passed on the way to elsewhere. We got comments on where this new wine was found and given dishes that we definitely hadn't ordered because we had to taste them. The staff were awesome about my allergies (were told once and handled everything thereafter). Tony didn't spend much time with us (second sitting was completely full) but the few words every time he passed were the most interesting of all. He showed off his favourite wines to Jenny and they discussed the wine list, for instance.
We ate some exquisite food. The focaccia was sublime, the beef cheeks were beautiful, and I think I've found a direct descendant of an ancient Roman deep-fried filled doughnut. It was familiar food, but beautifully, beautifully cooked. My expert sister thought so, too, and proposed marriage to the cook who made the eggplant lasagne. The textures of that lasagne were perfect, all the way.
I don't get to see Jen very often, and I am so grateful that she and Mum drove up for tomorrow. In the back of the car is a rather interesting birthday cake, covered with ganache, made for me by Sharyn.
The year might be a difficult one, but this birthday is the best I have ever, ever had.
*I cooked something historical for tomorrow regardless, using ingedients I had to hand, but dinner needs vegetables and vegetables I lack.
My mother and sister arrived in the late afternoon, bearing gifts.
We said to each other "What should we do for dinner." I was happy to cook something, but explained that we would have to pick up ingredients first, since anything other than basic shopping this week has simply not been done*. I have much meat and milk and cheese, but meat and milk and cheese do not a dinner make. I should have done the shopping on the way home from the cardio, yesterday, but I was worried about my birth certificate and I forgot.
Jenny said "I would like to see Tony." I wasn't sure who Tony was, but a lot of Jen's friends are in hospitality, because that's where she herself has worked for many years (this is my-sister-the-wine-and-olive-oil-expert) so I assumed this meant dinner out. Mum thought that a dinner out sounded good. I asked where Tony worked and she said "Italian" and "Braddon" and I said "I have to change into something respectable then." Immagine, wearing decent clothes several times in a fortnight. It's so out of character.
My family went to dump their things (and have discovered a good cheap place for Conflux attendees, just a few minutes drive from the convention hotel - sleeps up to five in a room) and had a bit of a rest, while I frantically did bunches of work to make up for the last two days. I'm almost caught up now, and will still be fine for a day off tomorrow. Just a bit more tonight, and I'm done. And I won't be able to sleep for two hours anyway. Which brings me back to...
Jen's friend works at Shop 6, Italian and Sons. Tony fitted us in for the second sitting.
It was quite an extraordinary evening. It always is a learning experience, being at a table with someone from the industry. It's simply not the same as normal dining. Tonight was the same, but with knobs on. Everyone chatted for the three seconds as they passed on the way to elsewhere. We got comments on where this new wine was found and given dishes that we definitely hadn't ordered because we had to taste them. The staff were awesome about my allergies (were told once and handled everything thereafter). Tony didn't spend much time with us (second sitting was completely full) but the few words every time he passed were the most interesting of all. He showed off his favourite wines to Jenny and they discussed the wine list, for instance.
We ate some exquisite food. The focaccia was sublime, the beef cheeks were beautiful, and I think I've found a direct descendant of an ancient Roman deep-fried filled doughnut. It was familiar food, but beautifully, beautifully cooked. My expert sister thought so, too, and proposed marriage to the cook who made the eggplant lasagne. The textures of that lasagne were perfect, all the way.
I don't get to see Jen very often, and I am so grateful that she and Mum drove up for tomorrow. In the back of the car is a rather interesting birthday cake, covered with ganache, made for me by Sharyn.
The year might be a difficult one, but this birthday is the best I have ever, ever had.
*I cooked something historical for tomorrow regardless, using ingedients I had to hand, but dinner needs vegetables and vegetables I lack.
gillpolack @ 2011-05-06T15:03:00
I'm alive! Or have been born! Maybe both! What's more, my new birth certificate has been copied and stamped by the post office and is on its way to the passport people.
While the copying was being done, I read the letter from the passport people, requesting a new birth certificate. It was there, in front of me, after all, and if a paper has print on it (whether upside down or not) it must be read. My passport was going to be delivered on 4 May (the Fourth was not with me, obviously). This means, I think, that I should look for it after 18 May.
While the copying was being done, I read the letter from the passport people, requesting a new birth certificate. It was there, in front of me, after all, and if a paper has print on it (whether upside down or not) it must be read. My passport was going to be delivered on 4 May (the Fourth was not with me, obviously). This means, I think, that I should look for it after 18 May.
gillpolack @ 2011-05-06T11:41:00
I'm caught up in town vs country in my research right now. There are neat formal definitions of what makes a town in the Middle Ages, and Saint-Guilhem-le-Desert is missing some elements. Yet when I looked into the sparse (but good) studies of the place, what I saw was a focus on the place by surrounding hamlets and town-like behaviour in dispute resolution.
I don't really care if I call it a town or a village in my novel and dissertation, but I care very much about how its structure and politics and yearly cycle affect the lifestyle of its residents. And in this aspect, the grand studies of place are failing me. They don't seem to allow for tourism (pilgrims, taking a stop on the way to Santiago de Compostella), trade (wine and olive oil going out, other stuff coming in, pedlars going through on their way to the isolated places north), major relics (William's bones and a piece of the True Cross) and other factors that bring a place that looks small and isolated into contact with the wider world in ways that would definitely undermine the poor-peasant-scrabbling-for-basics kind of lifestyle. Also, there's an abbey, two churches and a castle. If I assume 300 parishioners for each parish, then Saint-Guilhem could have around a thousand people in season. No less than 600 out of season. That fits the housing, I think.
What I suspect is that Saint-Guilhem is neither village nor town, but has some characteristics of each. This would affect lifestyle and it would affect life choices and it would affect outlook. All of this is going to affect my novel.
Peasants and hamlets give quite a different environment for time travel to a town - the people in the town are going to have to be very active players. I've been thinking this for a while, and have started to develop that side, but I have so many gaps in my understanding of everyday life in somewhere smaller than Winchester and bigger than a hamlet. And I'm not the only one. This size place, with seasonal activity, isn't that uncommon in the Middle Ages, but it's not been the focus of much study (or if it has, I can't find the studies!).
Last week I began to factor in that there have to be more technical experts (blacksmiths, coopers, notaries) than a small village would need. This isn't a bad beginning. I'll continue to research (although I've almost run out of sources for the place itself) but I'm going to have to walk the streets and work out my remaining issues from there.
The great advantage of the nature of Saint-Guilhem is that I now have yet another place to put young men who get up to mischief. This novel seems to have a lot of young men who get theselves into slightly sticky situations. I blame my nephews.
I don't really care if I call it a town or a village in my novel and dissertation, but I care very much about how its structure and politics and yearly cycle affect the lifestyle of its residents. And in this aspect, the grand studies of place are failing me. They don't seem to allow for tourism (pilgrims, taking a stop on the way to Santiago de Compostella), trade (wine and olive oil going out, other stuff coming in, pedlars going through on their way to the isolated places north), major relics (William's bones and a piece of the True Cross) and other factors that bring a place that looks small and isolated into contact with the wider world in ways that would definitely undermine the poor-peasant-scrabbling-for-basics kind of lifestyle. Also, there's an abbey, two churches and a castle. If I assume 300 parishioners for each parish, then Saint-Guilhem could have around a thousand people in season. No less than 600 out of season. That fits the housing, I think.
What I suspect is that Saint-Guilhem is neither village nor town, but has some characteristics of each. This would affect lifestyle and it would affect life choices and it would affect outlook. All of this is going to affect my novel.
Peasants and hamlets give quite a different environment for time travel to a town - the people in the town are going to have to be very active players. I've been thinking this for a while, and have started to develop that side, but I have so many gaps in my understanding of everyday life in somewhere smaller than Winchester and bigger than a hamlet. And I'm not the only one. This size place, with seasonal activity, isn't that uncommon in the Middle Ages, but it's not been the focus of much study (or if it has, I can't find the studies!).
Last week I began to factor in that there have to be more technical experts (blacksmiths, coopers, notaries) than a small village would need. This isn't a bad beginning. I'll continue to research (although I've almost run out of sources for the place itself) but I'm going to have to walk the streets and work out my remaining issues from there.
The great advantage of the nature of Saint-Guilhem is that I now have yet another place to put young men who get up to mischief. This novel seems to have a lot of young men who get theselves into slightly sticky situations. I blame my nephews.
May 5, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-05-06T08:21:00
It was -4 last night. Now it's a sultry 1 degree. What am I doing out of bed?
gillpolack @ 2011-05-05T22:04:00
My useful information for the evening is that it's three degrees outside and not even ten pm. In May. I think we liked the English winter and want to copy it. We do that with English matters from time to time.
My less useful information is the cardioechogram today wasn't as bad as last time, just a bit more embarrassing. I've got my interim results already and have a proper consultation where I get told more Things I Must Do in a few weeks. Healing is going to happen slowly, but my cardiologist wasn't entirely unhappy with me. I have it all worked out: since he's younger than me, he has to keep me going into tremendously old age if he wants income from my condition. Killing me off early won't help either of us. I told him that last time. This time he told me he'd put on some weight and I told him that my cardiologist thought that it was better to lose it.
My virus has started to fade. It's left me tired and easily confused. To the outside gaze the confusion looks perfectly normal, but I know it's not. Normally, for instance, I can read the time.
Tomorrow my mother and sister appear. I don't know whether they'll sort me out or expect me to sort them out. This depends. Normally, when Mum comes, I do a bit of frenetic housework, to make her happy, but I'm too tired. I'll change all my linen first thing in the morning, though, and leave the washing drying all over the heater. That'll convince her I know what I'm doing with housework. Really. Truly. She will entirely overlook that blue cable that's sitting in the middle of nowhere from the computer rejigging the other day, and stray birthday presents, and things I need to give her, and the recycling (which I was going to put out tonight, but did I tell you it was three degrees outside and 75 steps to the recycling bin?), and the piles of books that represent work to be done, and the piles and piles and piles of paper that represent work in transit, and three apples (sitting mysteriously on the middle of the coffee table) and the unswept floor, and...it looks charming. I've determined this. It looks charming. Welcoming. Friendly. Warm and fuzzy. Ignore the nature of the fuzz and any strange growths. They're just part of the charm.
The truth of the matter was that I completely forgot that I had that appointment today and then it turned out to be a long one. I didn't mind lying down for two hours in the middle of the afternoon, although the half-naked in semi-public is still something I can't get used to (it's a small practise and they all walk in and out - nice people, very friendly and chatty, but there's a sense of my body belonging to several people for that period of time) but I had been going to do housework then. And now, as you can see, I'm beyond tired.
I'm really looking forward to an infusion of friends on Friday and Saturday. I've only talked about the most visible aspects of the iceberg on this blog, but this week has been a bit Titanic-like. I've decided that if all sorts of people are determined to die around me (three this week!) and if lives are going to carelessly fling themselves on that iceberg, then I shall be the Unsinkable Molly Brown, and am bobbing on my lifeboat amidst death and destruction. It's tiring. And it's cold outside. Although I did tell you that.
One thing we determined today, at my check-up. Even with everything that's going wrong around me, even with a virus, even with overwork, I'm doing a thousand times better than I was this time last year. For all my complaints, I can do a normal day's work. I can study *and* earn enough money to pay my bills (as long as I live frugally). I can (mostly) take care of myself. I can chat on the phone without having to sleep for two hours afterwards. I can even see friends. Compared with May last year, this is pretty wonderful, even in such a very Titanic-like week.
My less useful information is the cardioechogram today wasn't as bad as last time, just a bit more embarrassing. I've got my interim results already and have a proper consultation where I get told more Things I Must Do in a few weeks. Healing is going to happen slowly, but my cardiologist wasn't entirely unhappy with me. I have it all worked out: since he's younger than me, he has to keep me going into tremendously old age if he wants income from my condition. Killing me off early won't help either of us. I told him that last time. This time he told me he'd put on some weight and I told him that my cardiologist thought that it was better to lose it.
My virus has started to fade. It's left me tired and easily confused. To the outside gaze the confusion looks perfectly normal, but I know it's not. Normally, for instance, I can read the time.
Tomorrow my mother and sister appear. I don't know whether they'll sort me out or expect me to sort them out. This depends. Normally, when Mum comes, I do a bit of frenetic housework, to make her happy, but I'm too tired. I'll change all my linen first thing in the morning, though, and leave the washing drying all over the heater. That'll convince her I know what I'm doing with housework. Really. Truly. She will entirely overlook that blue cable that's sitting in the middle of nowhere from the computer rejigging the other day, and stray birthday presents, and things I need to give her, and the recycling (which I was going to put out tonight, but did I tell you it was three degrees outside and 75 steps to the recycling bin?), and the piles of books that represent work to be done, and the piles and piles and piles of paper that represent work in transit, and three apples (sitting mysteriously on the middle of the coffee table) and the unswept floor, and...it looks charming. I've determined this. It looks charming. Welcoming. Friendly. Warm and fuzzy. Ignore the nature of the fuzz and any strange growths. They're just part of the charm.
The truth of the matter was that I completely forgot that I had that appointment today and then it turned out to be a long one. I didn't mind lying down for two hours in the middle of the afternoon, although the half-naked in semi-public is still something I can't get used to (it's a small practise and they all walk in and out - nice people, very friendly and chatty, but there's a sense of my body belonging to several people for that period of time) but I had been going to do housework then. And now, as you can see, I'm beyond tired.
I'm really looking forward to an infusion of friends on Friday and Saturday. I've only talked about the most visible aspects of the iceberg on this blog, but this week has been a bit Titanic-like. I've decided that if all sorts of people are determined to die around me (three this week!) and if lives are going to carelessly fling themselves on that iceberg, then I shall be the Unsinkable Molly Brown, and am bobbing on my lifeboat amidst death and destruction. It's tiring. And it's cold outside. Although I did tell you that.
One thing we determined today, at my check-up. Even with everything that's going wrong around me, even with a virus, even with overwork, I'm doing a thousand times better than I was this time last year. For all my complaints, I can do a normal day's work. I can study *and* earn enough money to pay my bills (as long as I live frugally). I can (mostly) take care of myself. I can chat on the phone without having to sleep for two hours afterwards. I can even see friends. Compared with May last year, this is pretty wonderful, even in such a very Titanic-like week.
gillpolack @ 2011-05-05T14:10:00
Still not born, but I'm off to see the cardiologist and the library anyway. While I do not exist, yet still I must return books and get my heart checked. Ah, the mysteries of life.
May 4, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-05-04T18:45:00
Despite me not being born (if I'm not born by Friday, apparently there are problems but right now it's to be expected - the system is not nearly as fast as the post office lady encouraged me to think), today has been eventful.
More notgoodstuff, which almost goes without saying, this week. I'm not going to post about my state of physical well-being, for instance, nor that I really wish tomorrow's cardiologist appointment was over. I do, however, want to send a request out to the universe to all business owners to please, please never say "There are so many ways we can do this - we would love to have your custom and yes, we can do everything you need" and then find that a rather straightforward aspect of it is beyond your capacity when it's too late for your client to do anything but run with it (they're looking for solutions, but it could be a bit expensive, and, honestly, they shouldn't *have* to be looking for solutions).
In other news, the Conflux cookbook is progressing despite me. I taught this morning (mostly a revision class - and they all remembered every single rule for a sonnet! but we did manage a little history aside about the style of contracts in the Middle Ages and about indentured labour in 19th century Australia and how nasty it could be ie 'blackbirding' and why indentures were chosen to hide what was very close to slavery) and then I brought myself home and started to work, but I couldn't sit up straight and the rest of the day has been fudge. I have a couple of urgent things to do tonight, and then the rest of tonight will also be fudge. If I had a crystal ball, I would forsee much sleep in my near future.
Which brings me to the sad truth that a bunch of important things happened today and I have no recollection what they were. This is one of those times when I'm going to encourage friends to let me know what's happening in my life (preferably creatively - home truths are so not a good thing today) to replace my fudge brain.
More notgoodstuff, which almost goes without saying, this week. I'm not going to post about my state of physical well-being, for instance, nor that I really wish tomorrow's cardiologist appointment was over. I do, however, want to send a request out to the universe to all business owners to please, please never say "There are so many ways we can do this - we would love to have your custom and yes, we can do everything you need" and then find that a rather straightforward aspect of it is beyond your capacity when it's too late for your client to do anything but run with it (they're looking for solutions, but it could be a bit expensive, and, honestly, they shouldn't *have* to be looking for solutions).
In other news, the Conflux cookbook is progressing despite me. I taught this morning (mostly a revision class - and they all remembered every single rule for a sonnet! but we did manage a little history aside about the style of contracts in the Middle Ages and about indentured labour in 19th century Australia and how nasty it could be ie 'blackbirding' and why indentures were chosen to hide what was very close to slavery) and then I brought myself home and started to work, but I couldn't sit up straight and the rest of the day has been fudge. I have a couple of urgent things to do tonight, and then the rest of tonight will also be fudge. If I had a crystal ball, I would forsee much sleep in my near future.
Which brings me to the sad truth that a bunch of important things happened today and I have no recollection what they were. This is one of those times when I'm going to encourage friends to let me know what's happening in my life (preferably creatively - home truths are so not a good thing today) to replace my fudge brain.
gillpolack @ 2011-05-04T13:01:00
Still not born. If I'm not born by tomorrow, I might have to ring the Victorian Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages and ask what the problem is.
May 3, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-05-03T17:06:00
I just collected today's mail and, for the record, I still haven't been born.
May 2, 2011
Vale Brimstone
Another wonderful Australian small press is closing down. You can find all the details here, including information on how to get hold of the last books before they're pulped. This Saturday is when it all happens.
What's particularly sad about losing Brimstone Press is that Angela and Shane have been so important in nurturing new writers and making the current (pretty amazing) state of horror writing possible in Australia. I remember when Shadow Box came out and so many new kids were saying "I can do this." Those new kids are now writing and publishing regularly and making waves. I don't know who will take Angela's place, or Shane's. I don't know if anyone *can* take their place. Every publication of theirs is worth reading, and every single one of them will be missed. I can only hope and trust that they have other projects in mind and that their future holds more great horror writing for us.
People around me keep saying "You have to buy Macabre," because it's one of the best anthologies of last year. Because it's so very, very, very good. And because in a few days it will be out of print.
The bottom line is that, if we, as readers, don't talk about and don't buy the work of small press, then small press will not survive.
This is a tough week, isn't it?
What's particularly sad about losing Brimstone Press is that Angela and Shane have been so important in nurturing new writers and making the current (pretty amazing) state of horror writing possible in Australia. I remember when Shadow Box came out and so many new kids were saying "I can do this." Those new kids are now writing and publishing regularly and making waves. I don't know who will take Angela's place, or Shane's. I don't know if anyone *can* take their place. Every publication of theirs is worth reading, and every single one of them will be missed. I can only hope and trust that they have other projects in mind and that their future holds more great horror writing for us.
People around me keep saying "You have to buy Macabre," because it's one of the best anthologies of last year. Because it's so very, very, very good. And because in a few days it will be out of print.
The bottom line is that, if we, as readers, don't talk about and don't buy the work of small press, then small press will not survive.
This is a tough week, isn't it?
