A Promenade in the Park, or Pretentious Perambulations

As I stated in the previous post, autumn's a great season - and it also tends to bring out the Artist in most of us. At least it does in me. On top of that, I find I'm more energetic and more organised at this time of year (although by November most of these fine qualities have disappeared, only to emerge again sometime in late August) - and so it's easier to start new projects and do general artsy stuff.

The pictures above belong to the latter category. As the weather was gorgeous today, I decided to make a trek to the local park. I actually discovered this little gem only a couple of months ago - and even then completely by accident.  It's quite far from where I live, but I think I'll be going there quite often from now on - at least when the cafe is open. 

So I got to indulge in artsiness among the old wooden houses, the wonky trees and fluttering leaves.  The only drawback is my camera, which refuses to take clear, focused pictures in cloudy weather (or what it regards as cloudy weather).  I'm trying to work with this handicap - at least it yields some interesting results, as can be seen in the middle picture. In general, however, I appreciate gadgets that do what I want them to do, and not just when it's sunny.

Next week, I'm finally getting back to teaching (oddly enough, I'm really looking forward to it...;) ) and I've been doing loads of back-up reading and planning lectures for some time now. This means that the PhD is definitely on the back burner - and will be until somebody tells me who my current supervisor is, and what's going on with my long-due Licentiate. But I've decided not to fret, and intead concentrate on the more motivating stuff.

Like updating my poor, neglected blog. :)

By the way, if you haven't yet noticed: the comments are (finally) on. Couldn't figure how to get them to work until yesterday evening, when it all came to me like a man on a flaming pie.

 

Things fall apart...or, everything comes back to Jane Austen

Why is it that when electric appliances decide to expire, they have to do it all at once? This morning I found out my battery charger had stopped working. Then, on my way to S-Market, the headphones of my mp3-player started acting funny. These are minor things, and easily (and quite cheaply) repleacable, but I'm waiting for the inevitable third casualty - I'm guessing it'll be either my computer or my freezer (just my luck it'd stop working while I'm on holiday).

Nothing much has been happening here. I've spent most of today reading Sicily-related web pages and blogs, trying to find out what to see, eat and drink while I'm there. I've also been listening to some more of Dowland's lute songs - and to my surprise discovered that 'Weep You No More, Sad Fountains' was originally written by him. Although I knew it was an old song, I had always associated with the famous pianoforte scene (below) from Sense and Sensibility.

For me, this is the definitive version of the song (with the melody composed by Patrick Doyle). I play it on the piano quite often, and each time I perform it, I imagine Alan Rickman walking through the door and stopping to listen, mesmerised.

If only...

My new best friend

What with my birthday coming up (well... soon enough), this year I asked my mum to buy me something practical, something I've wanted for a long time. And she did. Now I've got my own private sun.

It's one of those wake-up lamps that works like an alarm clock, only with an increasing amount of light. Apparently this fools your brain into thinking that the sun is rising and you wake up refreshed and happy even when it's pitch-dark outside. The darn thing even has different noises you can choose from; this morning I woke up to the most aggressive-sounding blackbird I've ever heard.

It does feel a bit creepy having a lamp that has a mind of its own, quietly (or not so quietly) glimmering into life next to you. Of course I was so excited about the thing that this morning I opened my eyes almost at the exact moment the lamp switched on (half an hour before the actual alarm time). Yet I think that it will be most useful in December.

And if the birdsong won't do it, there's always an insistent gong-sound, the expectancy of which will probably keep me awake all night.