Maria Donovan's Blog, page 9

Botanical Gardens Fresh Air and Sunshine

As the Northern Hemisphere leans into spring, I enjoyed this post about autumn in Brisbane so much I chose it for my first ever reblog. Thanks to Gretchen for giving us the tour of the lovely Mt Coot-tha Botanic Gardens.

Thinking locally to me (in Dorset, SW England) a visit to Abbotsbury Sub-tropical gardens might be in order. Curious to know what they have in common and what the differences will be.

What’s March like in your part of the world? Come back and leave a comment!

Thoughts Become Words

Coming out of a hot dry summer, March weather is beginning to soften the sky and offer the cooler, more gentle mornings of autumn.  There is no definite change of season, just a calmness, almost a feeling of relief after the insistent tropical heat.

Apart from, whack, an insect, there’s something serene and relaxing about strolling through a garden, touching leaves, sniffing flowers, following a creek and hearing the splash of a small waterfall through the trees.

To quote Rudyard Kipling “The Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away!” so…

Here’s what I experienced one lovely morning…

Arriving early at the Brisbane Mt Coot-tha Botanic Gardens, I strolled through a cool, green gully and thought it was strange to be in a capital city yet hear no traffic sounds.  I floated along, enjoying the stillness, until my personal calm was shattered when the garden crew came on…

View original post 622 more words

600 days of Duolingo – Wordless Wednesday #1

Does a photo of mainly words count for #WordlessWednesday?

The idea behind Wordless Wednesday is that every picture tells its own story. But then people needed to add text so Google wouldn’t think their post was spam.

[image error]600-day streak on Duolingo.

Typical writer. For my first ever Wordless Wednesday post I’ve put up an image that is mostly words. It’s about language too: representing 600 consecutive days of learning Cymraeg with Duolingo. The lingots tell their own story.

Feel free to share a link to your posts for #WordlessWednesday!

February fools

Spring has come early in 2019 in the Northern Hemisphere. It’s a wonderful thing to enjoy some sunshine and warmth. Such are the fleeting pleasures of unwanted climate change.

Snowdrops in January and February are something we can expect to enjoy after Christmas. A brightening of the new year.

[image error]Snowdrops in Netherbury 15 February 2019

There are the beautiful colours of bare branches against a blue winter sky.

[image error]Beautifully bare

Here in West Dorset there always the delights of being near the seaside. When I see these bleached rushes on the River Brit as it nears West Bay it makes me think of times long ago, before there were houses here, and centuries before the harbour was built.

[image error]Bleached rushes River Brit at West Bay
27 February 2019

With so few landing places along this coast, it’s not too hard to imagine Viking invaders finding their way inland. Or traders heading for the Roman road.

[image error]Mouth of the River Brit
27 February 2019

(At one time I was interested in buying that blue cabin until a friend pointed out that the wall appeared to be made of sandbags. After that it was the home of David Tennant’s character in ‘Broadchurch’ and became a tourist attraction.)

One of the things I like best about the dead of winter is the feeling that time stands still – even if that’s only a feeling.

But this year, the warm weather has hastened the coming of Spring.

[image error]Crocus and solitary bee 20 February 2019

I’m glad we planted crocuses in the autumn so there’s something open now for those early solitary bees and hover-flies. Every year, with small changes, we try to help the wildlife along. I would love to see more flowers on the verges everywhere.

The view from my writing window is always changing. Here it is at the beginning of February.

[image error]Allington Hill 1 February 2019

Since then we have had the warmest February since records began. Despite the frosts mornings, the magnolia tree in front of the house in this picture is showing white tips that grow bigger by the day.

[image error]Allington Hill 27 February 2019

Could it be that the magnolia is already in bloom? It’s usually due out in April. I had to take a closer look.

[image error]Magnolia flowers 27 February 2019

Gorgeous as they are I hope these don’t suffer if we have the same kind of March as last year, with two lots of snow and an assault from the icy wind known as ‘The Beast from the East’.

As I write a bumble bee is battering itself against the window. I can only hope it hasn’t used up too much energy trying to fly through the building instead of around it. At least there is a chance of finding food.

So many flowers are out early. As well as lesser celandines, daffodils and primroses, the grape hyacinths and even the camellia in its sunny spot (not pictured here) are coming into bloom.

[image error]Celandines 27 Feb 2019[image error]Dorset daffs 27 February 2019[image error]Primroses in the garden 27 February 2019[image error]Grape hyacinth with solitary bee 27 February 2019

The birds are busy courting and finding their nest sites. This morning I watched two blackbirds vying for one female. There are daily battles. The blue tits meanwhile are considering the nest box that was home to a brood last year. What a proud achievement that was for this tiny garden!

[image error]Last year’s nest

Six babies fledged and flew, leaving behind this one egg in the nest, unhatched. The nest box is back in place, ready for a new brood – if we should be so lucky again.

It’s all as uncertain as the weather and the future: so we enjoy the sunshine while we may. The first blossoms fading remind us of time speeding on, but while we can, let’s experience the glory!

[image error]Prunus by the old railway line
Bridport-West Bay
27 February 2019

What has February been like in your part of the world? Are you noticing the effects of climate change?

Is there anything you’re doing to help wildlife, particularly birds and insects?

Do you have tips or experiences to share?

A year through my window

Where I write

My favourite place for writing is in bed. When up and dressed I sit in a doorway.

[image error]My ‘office’ on a tidy day in Spring

The doorway leads from the kitchen to the utility room in my first floor flat. The seat, a folding garden chair, is sturdy, with improvised lumbar and neck supports; the screen sits on the worktop and the keyboard on my lap. It’s the most comfortable position I can muster. Both writing places are clean and out of the way of building work; both have a distant view on which to rest my eyes when I look up. Such things matter when you spend hours at the writing job.

The View

Allington Hill is the focus of the picture in the window. The distant treetops are stroked into shapes by the wind. The outline of the hill against the sky reminds me of the upturned face of a sleeping giant lying on his back. I say ‘he’ because I think he looks like Homer Simpson, sleeping with his mouth open.

I love to see the changes: blossoms; the clothing and unclothing of the trees; the disappearance and appearance of nearby houses, the sky between the branches, the bones of the landscape.

Here is a gallery: 12 photos of the view from my writing window – just one from the many taken each month. Round and round go the seasons, the months of the calendar and all the writing days of the year.

[image error]January Rainbow[image error]February Volcano[image error]March Snow[image error]Leafing the giant: end of April[image error]Apple Blossom in May[image error]Fully dressed in June[image error]Dry in July[image error]Sleeping Summer Giant: dark green in August[image error]September shadows[image error]October sun[image error]November morning: flying past[image error]December: See the giant’s breath

December – White Christmas or Fake Snow?

December: once upon a time the tenth month in the early Roman calendar. If you have read any of my posts covering the months of the year this will come as no surprise.

From Jan-Dec I’ve been challenging my own assumptions about the months. I have been surprised and then surprised again at how quickly I became used to my new knowledge: I can no longer think of the months from September to December without noticing that they are numbered 7-10.

Now the year begins in January instead of March, the names of the last four months of the year are detached from their original significance. The names are just names. That is another wonder of language and our understanding: the transference of meaning from the literal to the customary and familiar.

Something else I’ve added to these posts, to give a sense of time passing, are photos of the view from my window.

Some months have needed more than one photo – to capture just how quick the changes can be. May began with apple blossoms, which by the 19th had all but disappeared leaving the trees fully dressed in leaves of light green.

December too, is a month that can show itself in various guises – such are the blessings of changeable weather and a low angle of sunlight. Three days in a row:

[image error]Allington Hill December 3 2018



[image error]Allington Hill December 4 sunrise



[image error]Allington Hill December 5 2018

It just shows how hard it is to sum up one month in a photograph or a paragraph, that there is no one ‘truth’ about the way December ought to look.

As for the featured photo it is neither a White Christmas nor Fake Snow.

[image error]Snow in March

The photo was taken in the second snowstorm of March 2018. Could you tell that from the photograph?

All a photo needs sometimes is a fake caption to give it a new meaning. Even if it’s only a harmless ‘Merry Christmas’.

Perhaps the way forward into the New Year is to be wary of taking things at face value, to go on questioning received wisdom (even if it’s your own) – and to keep an open mind.

Enjoy the year as it turns! If the planet stopped spinning, we’d all fall off. Wouldn’t we?

UK Talk Radio

Massive radio fan as I am, it was a great to be asked to record an interview with Geoff Carter of UK Talk Radio. He asked me how I got started as a writer, where that led, and about my debut novel, The Chicken Soup Murder. 

[image error]Geoff Carter and Maria Donovan recording an author interview for UK Talk Radio

There are just two chances to listen. Both are Listen Live only! There will be no opportunity to listen again.

The interview goes out on Thursday 27 December 2018 between 12 noon and 1 pm approximately. The second chance to hear the interview is the following Sunday, 30 December.

Suggestion is to tune in from 11.45 to 13. 15 – although as it’s online there will be no twiddling of dials. Instead, please follow the link https://uktalkradio.org/listen-live-to-uk-talk-radio/ at the appointed time.

[image error]Chatting on after the interview

Here follows a list of 10 tips for talking on the radio: you might like to compare my aspirations and intentions with the result and let me know what you think!

1. Remember to smile. It makes your voice sound brighter. Unless you want to sound like Jack Dee … but for once was not my aim.

2. Be prepared. If you don’t know what the questions are going to be, suggest something. Know how long the interview will be and have a listen to other author interviews by the same presenters to get a feel for the style and range of questions.

I find preparation soothing: it helps me feel more confident. Though I took the notes in with me just in case and laid them out on the table so there would be no rustling of paper, I didn’t need to look at them once!

Another thing I did was record my voice at home and listen back for any verbal tics, coughing, hums and ums etc.

3. Relax. Once you’re there, go with the flow. I thought I was going to be interviewed by Jonathan Hines but Geoff Carter and I had such a good chat beforehand that he did the interview instead. We didn’t get around to talking about the main topic I had prepared for, which was about how I had tried to write about such difficult subjects as bereavement and loss and still give the reader moments of warmth and humour. There was plenty to say and yet I think I learned that it’s up to you to:

4. Make your point. If there’s something you really want to get across do keep it in mind. The presenters just want to put out a great piece of radio – you might have additional objectives: like mentioning the title of your novel. I feel I owe it to The Chicken Soup Murder and all the hard work that went into it, not just from me, to stand up for it in public.

5. Don’t shout at the mic. They will ask you to say something to test for levels so sit comfortably in a position you can maintain for several minutes and talk in the way you’re going to talk and stick to that. It’s important to get this bit right (the mic looks huge and they like you to be almost kissing it so pull your seat close and be comfy).

6. Keep going. If you stumble or say something completely wrong just wait a second and carry on. If it’s really terrible they might edit it out of a recording and if it’s live don’t worry about it. Everyone fluffs sometimes.

Another thing you might have to do is carry on talking in what is not exactly a natural situation. Although Geoff was a great interviewer he had to look at his screen from time to time and it felt odd to keep speaking as if we were still making eye contact. I expect you get used to that.

7. More preparation! Some physical preparation is helpful. You can warm up your voice, do breathing exercises to calm you down and help you focus, whatever you need.

Practicalities: have a bottle of water with you just in case and take sips beforehand to avoid a dry throat. I also had some throat sweets in my bag in case a tickle needed soothing before recording started.

Make sure your clothes are comfy and presentable (there will be photos) – or whatever else your image dictates. I like to decide on a full outfit beforehand and get it ready so I don’t have to think about it on the day.

8. Travel planning: also very important. You want to get there on time, but not too early. Definitely not late! Last minute hiccups before leaving home and traffic and transport hold ups wiped out a generous margin for delays.

I arrived 15 minutes before the recording was due to start, which was perfect, in this case, as it fitted their instructions. I had a few minutes to collect myself and breathe (etc) before the pre-interview chat.

9. Enjoy it. The way I do that is to commit whole-heartedly to the experience and to go with it.

As it turned out, I surprised myself by saying a few things in the recording I hadn’t mentioned to Geoff: how some years ago my husband nearly killed me when I was making chicken soup and I told him I would write about it one day (this is not a spoiler); how I didn’t know what to do with the story I had promised to write about that incident, until long after my husband died of mesothelioma – hence some of the novel’s observations of grieving and loss. I hadn’t planned on being so personal – but in the moment it just came out.

10. Learn from the experience. I learned not only a bit more about radio and recording, but also I learned something about myself and my novel.

The Chicken Soup Murder is narrated by a young boy struggling to prove that his neighbour has been murdered. It has much to do with responses to death: natural, accidental and unlawful. My husband died of mesothelioma, a cancer caused by exposure to asbestos. The anger I felt that he was robbed of so many years of life was definitely a motivation for wanting to write about an injustice.

[image error]

If you have a chance to listen to the recording, please drop me a comment and let me know what you think!

I’d love to hear about your experiences of being interviewed: what you did to prepare, how it went, what you might do differently next time. Feel free to share a link in a comment, too.

9+ things to like about November

Poor old November. Poems have been written about its lack of personality. Yet it’s a month full of ordinary magic.

1.   There’s the chance to revisit ‘No!’ (or  ‘November’) by Thomas Hood. 

November

No sun—no moon!      
No morn—no noon—
No dawn—no dusk—no proper time of day—
No sky—no earthly view—
No distance looking blue—
No road—no street—no “t’other side the way”—
No end to any Row—
No indications where the Crescents go—

No top to any steeple—
No recognitions of familiar people—
No courtesies for showing ’em—
No knowing ’em!
No traveling at all—no locomotion,
No inkling of the way—no notion—
“No go”—by land or ocean—       
No mail—no post—
No news from any foreign coast—
No park—no ring—no afternoon gentility—
No company—no nobility—
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member—

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,        
November!

Thomas Hood 1844

It’s a cry against dreariness – but as he was also a humorist it’s also clever and funny. Humour is one of our tricks for saving ourselves from gloom. 

The poem appears in different forms. This version includes all the lines I could find from various sources.  

Hood was writing about London in a fog, apparently. For me, though I’m still experiencing November from a Northern Hemisphere, European, UK (English, West-Dorset) perspective, things are not so bad.

Nature performs all kinds of magic. Here’s a colourful spot in the sky – part of a sun halo seen late afternoon in early November. Probably ice crystals in high cirrus clouds.  

[image error]‘Spot’ halo: the effect of sunlight through ice crystals

2. As the month begins, the trees are still undressing. 

[image error]Allington Hill not quite undressed 3 November

3.  It’s a month of exciting transitions, from the whiff of gunpowder to the prospect of Christmas. November begins with a bang. 

[image error] My Kind of Fireworks
Local tree by River Brit November 5

4. November can be modest too: it appears to have borne its shift from ninth month in the early Roman calendar to its current position as eleventh month without complaint.

5. November isn’t quite winter yet. It’s only late autumn. Not every day in November is sombre: we sometimes have bright and clear days. 

[image error]Mid-November early morning sunshine and shadows
– and a bird in flight

6. In November it’s easier to remember what a blessing it is to have warmth and shelter and enough to eat and drink. Perhaps that’s why we’re more inclined at this time of year to give to charities, to buy that copy of the Big Issue, or think about what it means to be homeless. I’ve slept in a tent in November and am grateful for solid walls and a roof that doesn’t leak. 

[image error]Tiny snail that came in from the cold

7. Sometimes you can wake to a morning when you don’t have to rush outside. You can keep dry and warm and enjoy a special breakfast. There are so many things to enjoy in just this one bowl: a total treat. 

[image error]International Breakfast Art

A funny little face: 

apples came from a nearby treered hair: the last of the autumn raspberries from the gardenorganic oatmeal in delicious low-cal coconut milk topped with vanilla soya yoghurt – all available to buy within a five-minute walk of homethree little spice biscuits for eyes and nose – a seasonal Dutch treat from the store cupboarda beard of chocolate hundreds and thousands – Fairtrade, brought back from visits to the Netherlands.  the teaspoon is a pen sticking out of its mouth. Did you think it was a pipe? 

Though it’s always a little sad to eat the face, especially the eyes, it’s another reminder of life’s transitions. Also, it’s delicious. Feasting is another way to defeat the gloom! 

8. The birds return to the garden. Blackbirds seem to stay away in high summer, perhaps put off by the shrieks of nesting seagulls. In autumn, they return, flicking dead leaves across the path, enjoying fallen apples. This one has white feathers in its tail. 

[image error]White tailed blackbird – in front of blue pot

The messiness of the garden lends itself to searches for spiders and insects: visits from blue tits, long-tailed tits, the wren and the robin.

Changes and tidying up, if done slowly, allow the garden to adapt. That’s my theory! The territorial robin warbles its deceptively gentle winter song, singing up at the kitchen window from the top branch of the unpruned black elder. 

9. Rain refills small garden ponds and replenishes the ground with moisture lost in the long summer drought. A little gentle rain softens the soil – and makes it less likely for water to run off when the storms and downpours come.

Rain is notoriously difficult to photograph. In films they have to have ‘special rain’ that can be seen. But on a day when the rain lashes the windows it’s easier to see and easy to appreciate being indoors! 

[image error]Rain on the window

10. Number ten? Well it is nearly December! As the leaves fall, bare twigs and branches are outlined against the sky. The structure of things has its own beauty.  

[image error]Dark November Afternoon

On dark nights we can be cosy at home – if we are lucky enough to have one. Every day that is a little shorter brings us closer to the winter solstice and the turning of the year. Let’s enjoy every day as it comes. There’s no need to hurry things along! 

What’s November like where you are? 

What do you enjoy about November? 

If you need to keep your spirits up, what works for you? 

Big Heads & Others: an hour of comedy sketches

Review by Maria Donovan

An hour full of warm laughter and sharply-observed comedy was enjoyed by an enthusiastic sell-out audience at Bridport Arts Centre on Thursday 8 November.

The writing trio Three-she (Gail Aldwin, Sarah Scally and Maria Pruden) gave us seven sketches, brilliantly performed by Declan Duffy, Sally Hunt, Dewi Lambert and Lee Wyles, effortlessly switching roles and bringing all to life with just a few props.

The
venue was the café, transformed for the evening into a bijou
theatre. Maria Pruden introduced the evening and narrated, while Gail
Aldwin and Sarah Scally performed (mainly unseen) miracles to keep
the evening running without a pause.

[image error]Declan Duffy and Lee Wyles in ‘Sweet Charity’

Sweet Charity’ comes in four episodes and provides continuity and a kind of comic refrain as we catch up with Declan Duffy on his trail of woe. His performance elicits both sympathy and laughter (how we enjoy another person’s discomfort, when we know we’re allowed to be amused!). 

Declan plays a charity collector going door to door, negotiating the difficulties presented by an unseen man (Dewi Lambert with a god-like voice), who won’t open up, a small dog (brilliantly yapped by Maria Pruden) and a seemingly-sympathetic woman (Lee Wiles dispensing tea and increasingly-sinister offers of cake).

[image error]Lee Wyles and Declan Duffy in ‘Killer Ladybugs’

Sandwiched between these episodes come three separate sketches. The first of these is ‘Killer Ladybugs’, in which Lee Wiles plays a ladybird returning home after a visit to her nephew’s wedding. She finds herself in difficulties as a bug with ‘the wrong number of spots’ attempting to get round Declan Duffy as a border guard with a new set of rules. His accent places him in one of the southern states of the USA and we soon leap to make the political connections, played out in this surreal context.

[image error]Declan Duffy in ‘Killer Ladybugs’

The references are just as topical today as they were when I saw this sketch in its infancy in the Marine Theatre, Lyme Regis a couple of years ago. As then, the disappearance of the ‘bugs’ from the stage engenders applause but there’s a sting in the coda with the appearance of a child, exuberantly played by Sally Hunt, to round things off.

The title sketch takes place on Easter Island with Dewi Lambert making a welcome appearance as he literally takes up a central role, flanked by Sally Hunt and a slantwise and silent Declan Duffy. These are the three ‘Big Heads’. 

[image error]Sally Hunt as ‘Puna’[image error]Dewi Lambert as ‘Hako’[image error]Declan Duffy as ‘Matua’

From their immoveable positions they observe what they can see of the world, each other’s behaviour and the visiting ‘oomans’. The contrast of their fixed positions with the mobility of their faces and (for Sally and Dewi) their nimbleness of voice and words is hilarious and proved a big hit with the audience.

‘Baby Love’ brings us to a bus stop, and a familiar Dorset scene, whereby two women of very different ages and aspects attempt a conversation while waiting for the arrival of the X51. Again, beautifully-characterised performances by Sally Hunt and Lee Wyles. 

[image error]Sally Hunt and Lee Wyles in ‘Baby Love’

An intervention by Maria Pruden, in her role as prompt, only seemed to add to the audience’s enjoyment, as what could have been a glitch was handled with humour and panache by all concerned.

In all, a very funny, sharply-written set of sketches resulting from the ‘Three-she’ collaboration. Such a marvellous variety of characters and themes, all held together by performances that were somehow relaxed as well as energetic and full of the confidence that immediately has a warming effect on the audience. Great comic timing in both the writing and delivery.

Encore!

[image error]Three-she: Gail Aldwin, Sarah Scally, and Maria Pruden

More about Three-she

Gail Aldwin

Paisley Shirt, Gail Aldwin’s collection of short fiction was long listed in the best short story category of the Saboteur Awards 2018. A novel and a pamphlet of poetry have been accepted for publication in 2019. You can find Gail @gailaldwin and at gailaldwin.com

Sarah Scally

Sarah has had radio plays broadcast on Bridport FM and Phonic FM. She has completed a fantasy novel for young adults and is currently writing a murder mystery set in the USA.  

Maria Pruden

Maria enjoys writing short stories, plays and sketches. She has had two radio plays recorded for broadcast on Bridport FM and is currently collaborating with four others on a screenplay. 

All images courtesy of Wessex Media by Peter Roe @mediachap https://www.wessex.media

October: a gallery of change

From sea-swimming to the threat of snow – October in the Northern Hemisphere brings dramatic changes





October is a month of contrasts.

In Dorset on the south coast of Britain, shorts and sea-swimming are exchanged for woolly hats and hurrying indoors – and back again – depending on which way the wind blows.

[image error]

Seatown and Golden Cap in a blue haze

Sometimes the light is bleached or blue. Sometimes slanted sunlight brings out the contours of the land and makes long shadows in afternoon sunshine.

[image error]
October shadows

At Seatown, the sky, alive with clouds and grey all day long, explodes into a glorious sunset, illuminating, to the east, the reddest of rainbows.

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It is a quality of low October light to enhance the red in the rainbow spectrum. A double rainbow appeared and even a full arc, not quite captured by the panoramic stitching together afforded by a mobile phone.

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Seatown 14 October 2018

In October, harvesting continues

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Blackberries ripe and unripe October 7 Seatown



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A basket of walnuts

The leaves on deciduous trees break down the chlorophyll that has fed them through spring and summer, changing from their darkest green to oranges, yellows and reds. Colours twirling or flying in the wind, to lie dead brown and trodden black.

[image error]
October 2 Season of mists and bonfires
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In sunshine 19 October
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Cold wind 28 October

In the UK, clocks go back at 2am on the last Sunday in October, bringing British Summer Time to an end – but it might not be the end of sunny days.

October can bring us the heat of summer, the chill of autumn and a touch of wintry weather. Contrasts of colour, light and shade – and some spectacular sunsets.

[image error]

Golden sunset over Chideock, Dorset, October 24

The same sunset, pink and blue, seen from my kitchen window in Bridport, with the promise of sunshine tomorrow.

[image error]
Allington, Bridport. Dorset, 24 October







What’s October like in your part of the world?



Share a link in a comment so we can all take a look!

October – when did eight become ten?

October, now familiar as the tenth month – derives its name from its position as month eight in the ancient Roman calendar.

In the early form of this calendar, there were ten months and the year began in March.  

As the will tell you: 

octo is the Latin for ‘eight’ … Two months were added to the end of the calendar year around 713 BC, and the beginning of the year was moved to 1 January in 153 BC

But wait … Is this really when eight became ten? 

[image error] October: can’t quite see the whole rainbow

Live Science gives us a concise history of the evolution of the Western calendar. Briefly:

The ‘calendar of Romulus’ at the founding of Rome, 753 BC, had ten months. Check. 

The ‘calendar of Numa’, around 713 BC, added two months to the year (plus an intercalary month to account for the odd extra number of days). The two new months were what we now call January and February. March was still the first month. OK. 

But, the article continues:

By around 450 B.C. January was generally considered the first month of the year. 

Ah.

The first article states ‘153 BC’, the second ‘around 450 BC’. A discrepancy of about 300 years. Why is this? Is it the difference between ‘generally considered’ and a date fixed in law? 

In my post on time passing for January, I refer to the Encyclopedia Britannica with the quote:

January replaced March as the first month of the Roman year no later than 153 BCE

‘No later than’ allows for variation – reflects uncertainty. But still, I can’t yet say why these variations exist. 

By whichever reckoning, over two thousand years have passed since eight first became ten.

But for the British and those who dwelt within its one-time colonies, the name of the month of October has been distanced from its original meaning for less time than for others elsewhere in Europe and around the world. We were out of step for a couple of centuries, refusing to adopt the (Catholic) Gregorian reforms and sticking with the Julian calendar (the system of dating followed from 46BC onwards). During this time we sometimes thought of March as the start of the year and sometimes January.

The final legal definitive shift to considering January 1 as the beginning of the year only came, in Britain, in 1752, when we finally adopted the Gregorian calendar, which presumably brought an end to the practice of having to refer to Old Style and New Style dates. 

[image error]Prickly issues

If you’re keen on historical ‘facts’ or ‘facts’ of any kind, whether for their own sake, or for the sake of getting something right when writing historical fiction, where do you look for accurate information? Popular articles online tend not to disclose their sources. 

The difficulties with accurately dating events and documents due to the staggered nature of switching from the Julian calendar, might be helped by this article from the University of Nottingham, which states in which years different countries adopted the Gregorian calendar. Indeed, reading this article brings me to doubt the one I have cited from Live Science, where it is stated that, on adopting the Gregorian calendar in Britain, days were cut from October. I was merrily about to repeat this until I found that the University of Nottingham article says ‘September’.

Who are you going to believe?

Though the editors of LiveScience are scientists, what can we say about the way information posted by contributors is curated and assessed? 

Are you aware of any further relevant academic research? Please add a comment.

Or perhaps you have noticed sites that repeat ‘facts’ which are thought to be incorrect?

If you think there’s anything wrong with the information I have presented in this post, please comment!

What do you think about our acceptance of ‘facts’ today? Is there time for this kind of checking in today’s helter-skelter world of constantly-streamed information?

How often have you found yourself having to revise what you think because the ‘facts’ have changed?

[image error]Allington Hill: misty early morning Sat 20 October 2018