Unthinkable Wings

When my grandfather was a very young man, not all that long after the Great War, he drove a grocer's van round the farms and settlements about the Gala Water. He carried all kinds of things - tinned goods, and string, and bits of agricultural supplies in a small way. And once a week, he had fish.

One day, he was driving up a steep hill and realised to his horror that the van doors had come open - he had been in a hurry the last time he had stopped - and the things gleaming in the road behind him were fish. His fish. So he went back and picked up the scattered and dusty haddock and herring, and then, for want of a better solution, went down to the burn and washed them.

The next place he had to call wasn't far off, and he presented the fish to a busy farmer's wife with some trepidation.

"Ach, laddie," she beamed. "What grand fresh fish! They look like you just guddled them oot the burn the now!"

Nonetheless, the flat is clean.

Mostly.

Anyone got any tips on getting pine needles from under laptop keys?

I encourage anyone who happens to be in Oxford to go and visit the free exhibition on Dante, Petrach and Boccaccio which is on at the Bod until October 31st. It's a typical Bodleian exhibition, in that it amounts to 'Some interesting stuff in Oxford on X'; but there are some very interesting manuscripts, early printed books and paintings (mostly DG Rossetti, most notably 'Dante drawing an angel' as Lizzie Sidal Gemma looks on). Among the books, I was particularly interested in the very early illustrated Dante (1350), open at the page showing Dante and Vergil entering Purgatory, and Dante being tattooed with the sharp end of a sword, and the first terrace - rather lovely, and high quality drawing, the early editions of Dante, showing the increasing respect with which the poem was treated; Petrarch's Suetonius and Ambrose, with his marginalia; some striking illustrated manuscripts of the Decameron; the 'after Vasari' of the six Florentine poets on loan from Oriel SCR, and the lock of Percy and Mary Shelley's hair (groping rather desperately for exhibits, there...)

... especially as I succeeded in getting back to Oxford from a very snowy Milton Keynes, where I had been to an excellent ceilidh the previous night. Hopefully photos later - take adavantage of the shiny new account!

.... not as an uphill, depressing struggle, but sheer bloody misery" Listening to the Minister's Old Year's Night sermon yesterday, other than being depressed by it, I had a nagging sense of familiarity.

Later that day, I watched a DVD of old Scotch and Wry (http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/guide/articles/s/scotchandwry_1299003554.shtml), and discovered the lugubrious Rev IM Jolly doing a remarkably similar reflection for Hogmanay. Except, obviously, that was supposed to be parody....

I've been having a splendid time in North Germany, despite truly disgusting weather, and taking the opportunity to enjoy many of my favourite things about life over there. Today, on the way home, I spent a wet day in Hamburg and among other things discovered an enormously dangerous shop which sells all kinds of things for the home, kitchen and office, chosen to combine beauty and utility, with an extra portion of old fashioned manufacturing or craft standards - though 'old fashioned' in this case includes modernism. All very German in an Anglophilic sort of way.

After being torn away by my friend from several gorgeous things I couldn't afford to buy - such as the Hastil fountain pen - or those for which I had no immediate use, such as the hat boxes - I reflected, with a mixture of sadness and relief, that they didn't have such things in Britain. (My friend, I think, was just relieved to get me away from the knives and axes)

Only it turns out that they do have such shops, or at least such catalogues in Britian. And with an internet shop, too.

http://www.manufactum.co.uk/

ETA: Gosh, they even have red indiarubber balls, like King John wanted for Christmas.

Thank goodness Oxford is back to normal after the animal rights demonstration at the weekend. I missed all the fun (sometimes living out of town is an advantage) but the even-earlier-than-usual-closure of the Bod meant there was no point going in anyhow.

Goal for the day: finish writing a paper before my supervisor turns nasty; buy a new bedside lamp as the old one, not content with a homicidal urge to throw itself off the bedside cabinet if I so much as looked at the cord, eventually turned its rage in on itself and died.

Of such is a postgraduate's life made.

I'm ignoring the plot bunnyish picture of Hermione as a grad student in Oxford (the Bod is remowned for its collection of mediaval magic manuscripts in certain circle, you know...) as I'm not sure what to do with it - and it wouldn't contribute to paper-writing, either.

On the other hand, at least Formal Hall has started up again. Hurrah for food, gowns and table talk.