The Log Burner

The log burner is going full blast again.

Mary and her trusty rubber chicken lie warming themselves until they steam

The radiators are working again and the thermal store is full of boiling water 

The cottage has been properly warmed back into life again.

Tomorrow I’m off to London. 

Last year I bought Nu and I tickets for the Royal Ballet 

Romeo and Juliet at the Royal Opera House 

How lovely is that? 

I’m meeting her at Dishoom Covent Garden 

I’ve missed her recently

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Monopoly board

 Life right now

Looks like

A monopoly board

You don’t get to skip

And collect 

Two hundred dollars

I’ve not wanted

To share

What I don’t like

But doing 

What I don’t like

Is bringing peace

And a freedom

I’d feared 

I’d lost

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Getting to know moi

 In every Amazon order I have at least one book

I have six destinations on my bucket list

As a snack I like SmartSweets candy

I have music on when I write

I have so many clothes in my closet, but wear the same things every day

Share yours?

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“ Old Man”

 I’ve ventured down to Y Shed for one of their strong Americanos

The ones that blow yer tits off and and give you a zing

And I’ve taken the obligatory snapshot of my coffee cup to prove the fact.

I will have another one too, so I will be bordering of ADHD by the time I get home.

I’ve just had a row with two middle aged women joggers ( Quelle Surprise) but this time I was provoked ( again) 

They ran up behind me like two ninjas and surprised Dorothy who suddenly found herself in front of them before she and I realised and called her to heel. 

I called out “ I’m sorry” As Dorothy stopped and raised her head to say hello and one of the joggers, exasperated with the interruption yelled “ Oh God  GET OUT OF MY WAY “ as she waved her arms wildly

“ She has every right to be here as you do” I called out, irked that my original apology hadn’t registered 

And what only could be called a fishwives’ Bitch off ensued .

“Fucking dog walkers lording the path” 

“ What if a child ran out in front of you?”

“ Dangerous Dogs should be on a lead”

“ She only has a brain the size of a soddin peanut!”

“I could have broken my ankle falling over her “

“ Nazi Jogger”

“ You Should have called out you were coming past, what am I ? Fucking psychic ?”

I think you get the gist

The other Lycra covered jogger then decided to Wade in and with her hands on her hips yelled a somewhat   Surprising and simple “ insult” of

“OLD MAN ! “ which smarted somewhat

They jogged on

Another couple who had been walking behind me called out with a supportive “ Weren't they rude ? “ 

but of course they had a dog too, so they would wouldn’t they? 

“It happens to me regularly” I admitted and had to laugh at myself 

I wonder why….

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Obliqueness

Benedict Cumberbatch in "The Power of the Dog"

Last night, courtesy of Netflix,  I watched "The Power of the Dog" directed by Jane Campion. Set in rural Montana in the  1920's, it is a haunting, beautifully crafted and artful film.

I could summarise the plot quite easily but that would give the game away for readers who haven't yet seen "The Power of the Dog". Rough and ready rancher Phil Burbank is played brilliantly by Benedict Cumberbatch. He is the central character - a brooding, troubled figure who lives with shadows of the past - especially an old cowboy called Bronco Henry. Of him, Phil says, "Greatest rider I ever knew...He taught me to use my eyes in ways that other people can't."

What do we want from films? Do we want clarity, resolution, explanation, certainty? If that is what you crave, you won't find such fulfilment with this film. Ultimately what you find is suggestiveness, mystery, words unspoken and rope ends not tied up. There's a sense in which you have to make your own conclusions instead of having them presented to you on a plate.

I agree with film critic David Rooney:"This is an exquisitely crafted film, its unhurried rhythms continually shifting as plangent notes of melancholy, solitude, torment, jealousy and resentment surface. Campion is in full control of her material, digging deep into the turbulent inner life of each of her characters with unerring subtlety."

Visually, it is quite stunning. Though filmed in the Otago region of New Zealand, the imagery provides an authentic  "feel" of the Montana wilderness in the early twentieth century with crumpled hills in the distance.

There was something quite surreal about it all. I found I had to suppress some nagging practical questions - such as: Where is the creek and the green woodland in relation to the grand Burbank ranchhouse?  Why is the ranchhouse so big and why does it appear so uncluttered outside?  Where is the nearby town in relation to the ranch? But in the end such queries didn't seem to matter. Best to just go with the flow and accept the separate reality of this brilliant artifice disguised as just another cowboy western.

Kisten Dunst as Rose Gordon in "The Power of the Dog"

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