Early Break
10 February

This year, I've decided to take an early break from work and so, avoiding next week's half term, I've been away from work this week.

As well as a few little treats as detailed below, there has been a serious purpose to having the week off.

It is now over a year since we had our sash windows seen to. On the principle of eggs and omelettes, some damage was done to the surrounding gloss paintwork. In other cases, new wood was added in and primed but not glossed. So, in other words, there has been a painting job that has been waiting to be done for twelve months. Well, I finally got round to doing it.

I've totally re-painted the bathroom (and it's interesting to think that it's only just over two years since I last decorated in the bathroom under very different circumstances when I was still feeling low and depressed). I've also sorted out all of the sash windows on the ground floor - front and back. There's only the sash window in the back bedroom to see to and I feel comfortable about doing that in the next few days.

There's no point in me tackling the sash windows in the two front upstairs rooms as we have just sorted for this year's big job to be done. The plaster and lathe work on the upstairs ceilings is shot. And I do mean shot. It is only the wallpaper and goodwill which is keeping the whole thing up. So the ceilings in the two bedrooms and the box room need to be dropped and replaced. At the same time, we will have the loft insulation replaced with something more modern (what's up there currently could easily be pre-war).

It's going to be messy work and once it's done we shall decorate the two front rooms. The windows can be glossed then.

Preparation for this major piece of home improvement also requires us to box up all of the books and ornaments and so we've been doing some of that as well.

And, of course, there has been the snow. Our pond froze over for something like four days consecutively and we had snow on the ground for two days. In fact it's almost like a proper winter.

As a result, I did not go to my reiki session on Thursday as planned and I snuggled up at home and did not go yet another Philharmonic concert thus missing Elgar's Second Symphony this time. Critical comment has been excellent so it seems that I missed a treat - well so be it.

It's been more than pleasant getting out of bed at times to suit me and doing yoga in the gathering morning light as 7am approaches.

I've been taking the opportunity to listen to a little music. In particular, I've been re-acquainting myself with the downloads I made of opera performaces by Juan Diego Flórez. So far, I've listened and semi-watched him in a performance of La Fille du Régiment from Las Palmas in 2001, his Covent Garden performances of La Cenerentola which Ross and I saw in 2001 and Il barbiere di Siviglia from Madrid in 2005. All quite excellent entertainment.

On Tuesday we took a trip out to Tate Liverpool to see Jake and Dinos Chapman's Bad Art for Bad People. I was all prepared to dislike this immensely but, in the event, I have to say that, although some of the chosen targets are a little too easy, I can appreciate the craft and thought behind what they do. I just don't find it enormously engaging or stimulating. Compared with other shows I've seen I'd have to give it just two stars.

We took advantage of the DVD lending service at our local library to view Red Eye, a moderate thriller from Wes Craven, he of Nightmare on Elm Street and other such seminal horror films. It was effective within its limited parameters but that's about as far as I can go in my appreciation.

The Departed arrived at the Plaza cinema all covered in glory with all sorts of awards and nominations for awards. Basically a re-make of the Hong Kong crime drama Infernal Affairs, Martin Scorsese conjures a remarkably bloody, tense, funny and exciting film. It's probably one of his most accessible works and has taken oodles at the box office. There are absolutely stellar performances from Jack Nicholson and Leonardo DiCaprio with great support from Mark Wahlberg, Martin Sheen, Ray Winstone and Alec Baldwin. Matt Damon is alright and at least doesn't let the side down. Three stars.

I've raced through The Interpretation of Murder by Jed Rubenfeld. It's a classic, modern middle-class entertainment. A little learning (in this case, interpretations of Freud's theories and Hamlet). A little naughty sex (in this case, bondage and whipping). A little violence (in this case, a very nasty death by incarceration). A little Gothic (in this case, secret passages). A neat twist (in this case, the murder that never was). An exotic setting (in this case, Manhattan High Society in the first decade of the twentieth century). The characters are cardboard. The plotting has the film rights firmly in view. And yet, it's very efficient at getting you to keep turning the pages. Two stars.

So, it's been a pleasantly relaxed week.

One final thing.

At yoga, on Tuesday nights, Barbara usually starts the session by getting us to lie on the floor and spend a moment or two letting the cares of the day drift away. She often reads a passage from on of the classic Indian yogic texts. She often also reads sort of well-meaning doggerel poetry. This week's offering, however, struck a chord. I thought that I remembered it being by Hilaire Belloc but the magic of the Internet tells me that it is by Joyce Kilmer, an American who lived 1886-1918.

This is the poem.

Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.