a little bit of magic....

"a story was a form of telepathy.
By means of inking symbols onto a page, she was able to send thoughts and feelings from her mind to her readers.
It was a magical process, so commonplace that no one stopped to wonder at it."
Atonement by Ian McEwan

I started reading this book a couple of days ago. I like this thought that reading is something magical, sometimes i know that it is.....

Countdown....

As a person who quite often burst spontaneously into song, back in May/June-ish time a couple of my friends put a ban on me from singing Christmas songs out loud until the month of December, and until then i had to contain them to the inside of my head.

Perhaps they did not think that they would still be friends with me by then....

perhaps in a few days they will soon stop answerining my calls....

perhaps this is because i keep reminding them how well i have been behaving concerning 'The Ban' and how i have warned them i will call them up each day of December to sing them a different Christmas tune...

Perhaps.....

Until then i'm countng down the days....

my mummy and the moon....

When i was a little girl my mum used to tell me

I love you up to the moon
around the stars
and back again.

Now that i'm a grown up girl, she tells me the same thing.....

on the subject of beavers.....

so talking of Mister Bartholemew, i came across a short something i wrote in my notebook about this time last year. i remember writing it after coming home from....well...i suppose it was a date....


"You dont believe me"
"No, i do not"
"How mightily rude, when have i ever lied to you?"
"Well....seeing as you just told me you spent the afternoon conversing on the subject of beaver politics with three beavers who live under the bridge near your house....No, i do not believe you"
"Fine, i ll prove it to you, turn left here"
He is amused, "your kidding right?"
"Nope, lets go there right now" I check my watch, "although it is after 11 on a saturday nigh Little Humpernickle will probably be in bed and Betsy really isnt much of a night owl but Bartholemew might still be up"
He gives me a look and then turns left.
Uh oh. "You know it is a bit dark out"
"Ha! Now your making excuses"
"No no no, I'm just saying that with your poor night vision you might have a little difficulty spotting them, they're so well camoflaged even during the day its going to be exceedingly dificult with this poor lighting" He laughs and shakes his head, apparently at a loss as of what to say any more.

We arrive at the bridge. Its cold as leave the warmth of the car. He puts his hands in his pockets and stomps his feet, "This is ridiculous" . I ignore him and lean over the railing trying to spot one.
"Don't be so pessimistic, they're not going to come out if your being like that are they now."
"There are no beavers in this country. I think you saw a rat"
"Shhhh, how can you be so mean" I come up close to him and whisper, "Beavers are descended from the rodent family but they don't like it mentioned, it offends them." I call out loud, "He's sorry he didnt mean it! He really wants to say hello!"
A passer-by passes us by and pretends not to notice us. I lean further over the rail and call out, "Bartholemew! Bartholemew! Are you still up? Matt wants to say hello, I promise we wont be long"
I cross over to the other side of the bridge and start calling over that side. Meanstwhile he looks on at me in awe but also as if i'm crazy. He is unsure as of how to react but is amused. He decides to play along, "Why dont you call to them in Beaver-ish"
"Oh, good thinking" I start to click away in my Beaver language i had demonstrated to him earlier in the evening. "You know they might come if you call them" I turn to him and lean back on the rail. He comes closer.
"Dont be absurd, I'm not calling them"
"Well then, its your own fault if they dont come. I have tried my darndest"
He smirks.
"Just face it. No beavers"
"Bartholemew!"
I shout excitedly as i spot a beaver being pulled down the river by the current.
"Aha!" I raise my eyebrows at him. I turn my attention back to the beaver who scrambles up out of the water onto the bank and then stands on his hind legs and looks up at us.
"I'm so glad you came to say hello, I hope we didnt wake you. Oh sorry "I say lowering my voice. I turn to Matt, "He asks if we can be a bit quieter as he has just got Humpernickle to sleep" Matt is shaking his head in disbelief, smiling. "This is my friend, he just wanted to say a quick hello, we'll leave you now."
I look at Matt basking in my glory.
"I cant believe you got so lucky!
Neither can I, how fantastic!
"Lucky? I don't know what you mean, I called him and he came"
"You Jammy Dodger"
"I'll have you know I'm a Custard Cream"


So actually, there is probably more non-ficiton than fiction in that story....could this be the reason why i rarely get asked out on second dates....methinks perhaps.....

My neighbour Bartholemew.....

i was very excited today to see that Mister Bartholemew the Beaver has returned to his winter quaters, underneath the bridge on my way to the bus stop, after being away at his summer home.

last year i learned to speak Beaver-ish to him and we had many a late night conversation. i didnt see his wife Betsy or Little Baby Humpernickle (who must be quite big now).....i cant wait to find out how the family has been doing!

the conduct of conductors....

for the last few performances we have been doing we have had an exceptionally good conductor. not only did he actually watch us whilst we danced....in fact i'm pretty sure that he didnt even look at his orchestra one bit, but he came up and thanked us afterwards for dancing so well to his music....trust me no conductor has ever done that before!

it turns out that his wife is a dancer and he has spent a long time studying how to conduct for ballet, which is completely different from conducting for operas or concerts. its amazing how you can feel the difference.

i had the experience of dancing for a conductor once who hadnt studied for the performance at all, he didnt even know when our cues were and started playing the music a few times when we werent even on the stage yet, not that he noticed, he didnt look at the stage once to see us running rond like headless chickens.....when he came on stage to bow we booed. it may sound rude but he really disrespected us.

when i was in chicago in the summer i came across this painting in the Chicago Art Institute that made me smile...i felt like i connected with the painting.....isnt that what art is meant to do?

happy endings.....

she attempted a smile. "don't fairytales always have a happy ending?
"that depends"
"on what?"
"on whether you are Rumplestiltskin or the Queen"

briar rose by Jane Yolen