ADAGIO

“It’s so curious: One can resist tears and ‘behave’ very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... And everything collapses.” - Colette


For Song Saturday a sad and sweet adagio by Albinoni. No, not THE adagio by Albinoni which is so very well known (and not by Albinoni in any case – it was composed by Remo Giazzotto in 1958).

Here is a genuine Albinoni adagio, a short second movement from his Oboe Concerto in C Major, opus 9, No 5. It is a delicious morsel, short and poignant containing within it distilled the essence of sorrow and melancholy, but so sweet!

CHICKEN PIE

“Antisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered, and after some time then thaw and become audible, so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer…” – Plutarch

It’s still cold and wet here Downunder and we are staying inside with the heater on and lovely warm winter food to keep us going. It’s time for baking and frying and stewing all those rich, hot dishes that are packed with energy and taste wonderful. I can feel my cholesterol going up just thinking about them! However, we are also having lots of citrus, lemons and grapefruit, mandarins, tangelos and oranges. They supply the vitamins and the fibre, but also boost the metabolism of fats.

Tonight we are having a Quick Chicken Pot Pie. Easy to prepare with a supermarket roast chicken, although you could roast your own if you are a purist!

Quick Chicken Pot Pie
Ingredients

•    1 ready bought supermarket roast chicken, boned and cut into small pieces
•    2 medium peeled potatoes, cut into 2 cm chunks
•    3 medium carrots, cut into 2 cm chunks
•    2 celery ribs, cut into 1-inch chunks
•    1 leek, cut into 1 cm rings
•    1 large onion, diced
•    8 fresh mushrooms, quartered
•    2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley
•    3 tablespoons olive oil
•    1/2 teaspoon dried rosemary
•    1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
•    1/2 teaspoon dried tarragon
•    1/2 teaspoon dried sage
•    1 cup peas
•    Salt and pepper to taste
•    4 cups chicken broth
•    1 shot glass of dry sherry
•    6 tablespoons butter
•    6 tablespoons plain flour
•    1 egg yolk
•    1/2 cup cream
•    2 sheets frozen puff pastry

Method
•    Toss the potatoes, onion, carrots, leek, celery, mushrooms with olive oil, parsley and herbs. Place in a roasting pan and bake at 190° for 35-40 minutes stirring occasionally until the vegetables are cooked.
•    Remove the vegetables with a slotted spoon and set aside with the peas. Pour pan juices into a measuring cup. Spoon away the fat from the juice, reserving the fat. Add the juices and sherry to the chicken broth. Measure out the fat and add enough butter to make 6 tablespoons.
•    Put the roasting pan on the stove over medium heat. Pour in the 6 tablespoons of fat and butter, when it’s melted add the flour and stir to make a roux. Cook the roux till lightly browned, add the chicken broth and bring to a boil. Simmer the gravy for at least 15 minutes or till it is the consistency of heavy cream.
•    Mix the chicken pieces with the baked vegetables, peas, add the gravy.
•    Heat oven to 200°. Choose four 350 mL ovenproof ramekins or a two-litre casserole.
•    Remove the dough from the refrigerator. Roll it out till it is 3 mm. thick. Cut out the pastry for each bowl leaving the pastry a little larger than the top of the dish.
•    Divide the chicken mixture, vegetables, and gravy among the dishes. Place the dough on top, pressing along the edge of the dish to seal.
•    Combine 1 egg yolk and 1/2 cup cream. Brush the mixture onto the top of the pastry with a pastry brush. Put the pies on a baking sheet to catch any drips. Bake on the centre rack in the oven for 40-50 minutes or till the crust is thoroughly browned and puffed.

POLITICS

“All of us who are concerned for peace and triumph of reason and justice must be keenly aware how small an influence reason and honest good will exert upon events in the political field.” - Albert Einstein

We have a federal election looming ahead, all set for August 21st. The electoral rolls have closed already and our politicians have started the usual circuses and sideshows: Making statements, giving interviews, suddenly becoming oh-so-visible around their electorates, kissing babies, pressing the flesh. It’s all so predictable and so distasteful…

And then of course we have the debate! The Labor Party, currently led by Julia Gillard, and the Liberal Party, currently led by Tony Abbott, are the two main parties in Australia. The smaller National Party is led by Warren Truss. In the 150-member Australian House of Representatives, Labor won government with 83 seats, with the coalition on 65 seats (55 Liberal and 10 National), with two seats held by independents. The Australian Greens won 8 per cent of the 2007 vote, and the Family First Party won 2 per cent, but neither party won any seats in the lower house.

The debate will take place on Sunday night and already concern has been voiced about the one debate granted by Julia Gillard versus the three requested, and also the refusal to allow other parties to be represented. So we shall have to be content with the two leaders of the two major parties to do battle (not only with one another, but with the popular programs they are pitted against on TV)! The leader rating is polled at about 57% for Gillard versus 27% for Abbott, presently. They represent the left and right wings of politics respectively (although both of them are so close in their policies and both are so pro-capitalist, that they really differ little from one another).

The character of the leaders will also be a consideration at the polls, as will their personal life and religious beliefs. Officially, Australia is a secular state, but in many groups of the population religious feelings run high and religious groups can be very influential. Ms Gillard is a declared atheist and a single, childless woman, “living in sin” with her partner, while Mr Abbott is a good Catholic, married with children and a fine exemplar of all that a good politician should have in the family and character stakes. We also now have the added bonus of a woman versus man battle. The electorate will decide on whether they really want the PM that was thrust upon them when the party room slaughtered our elected PM, Kevin Rudd a few weeks ago to put Ms Gillard in his place. He is still tight-lipped about it all and on the campaign trail in his own electorate on the quiet…

The campaign has been rather lacklustre so far, but there is till time for things to spice up, for scurrilous comments, blows below the belt and for all sorts of skullduggery. In the last election I voted for one of the smaller parties that seemed to have a conscience, had a policy on sustainability and conservation, was fair in its approach to social issues and was represented by a candidate in my electorate that I knew and respected. Alas, he was not elected and the party was only elected to the Senate not the House of Representatives. Some people may think that my vote was wasted, I believe not as my conscience was quiet. I suspect that I shall make a similar decision this election. Hence the spiel of the major parties will not interest me much, as after all it is much of a muchness dictated by the spin doctors and the professional policy writers upon study of the latest trends in the population.

Election 2010? Wake me when it is over, please…

debate |diˈbāt| noun
A formal discussion on a particular topic in a public meeting or legislative assembly, in which opposing arguments are put forward.
• An argument about a particular subject, esp. one in which many people are involved : The national debate on abortion | There has been much debate about prices.
verb [ trans. ]
Argue about (a subject), esp. in a formal manner: The board debated his proposal | The date when people first entered America is hotly debated.
• [with clause ] Consider a possible course of action in one's mind before reaching a decision: He debated whether he should leave the matter alone or speak to her.
PHRASES
Be open to debate: Be unproven; require further discussion.
Under debate: Being discussed or disputed.
DERIVATIVES
debater noun
ORIGIN: Middle English : via Old French from Latin dis- (expressing reversal) + battere ‘to fight.’

HAPPINESS IS...

“The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise grows it under his feet.” - James Oppenheim

I was reflecting on the meaning of happiness today. It is such a relative state and people the world over will define it differently depending on their circumstances, their current needs and wants, their experiences and their stage of life. Happiness may simply be health to a sick person, or finding a soulmate to someone who has been alone for years and years. More prosaically, having food and water may be happiness to someone who is dying of hunger; living in a home with a loving family may be happiness for an orphan in a state institution; or peace to an unfortunate citizen of a war-ravaged country.

The following poem written in gratitude of the happiness I enjoy on a daily basis and which I often don’t reflect upon. I often don’t appreciate, or recognize or acknowledge. We engineer our own happiness by considering our own good fortune…

Happiness

The simple joy of winter sunshine,
Drying the rain-soaked earth.
The warmth of freshly-laundered clothes,
The dryness of shoes without holes in their soles.

The knowledge that a light will be on at home
When I return there after work.
A greeting, a kiss, a smile when back,
And the glow of being loved and loving in return.

The satisfaction of knowing that a sprain
Is the extent of my ill-health.
The smell of a simple tasty meal on my table,
Its appetising sauce the fact that it was cooked with love.

That I turn on the tap and have running water,
That I have warmth in my home in winter.
The knowledge that when I listen to the news
All bad news will be from far away.

The simple contentment of the ripe oranges
Hanging golden on the tree in my winter garden.
The fresh flowers in the vase,
The music that I can play when I want to.

My job, my friends, my colleagues, my associates,
All of my life, so gratefully being lived.
The tears that flow, being tears of joy
Compassion, sympathy, not of sadness…

AESOP IN ADELAIDE

“The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows.” - Sydney J. Harris

I am in Adelaide today for work. We have had a site visit and an audit, which went very well. This meant that I was inside all day, preparing material, briefing and debriefing people, being interviewed, providing information, gathering data and other materials that they had requested and generally looking after the whole process. Fortunately at the end of the day all was well, but now I am exhausted.

It did not help that last Sunday I sprained my ankle rather badly which had become swollen and has been bandaged since then. Having spent the whole day running hither and thither, did not work healing wonders for it and I can feel it throbbing now. At least I did not break a bone and that’s the main consideration, sprains will heal relatively quickly.

The weather was cool and rainy today so at least, being confined indoors had its advantages. I enjoyed the day although it was hectic and it was good to work with my colleagues as members of a team in order to bring about the successful completion of a project. That’s what teamwork is all about, depending on your team-mates and being depended upon by them yourself. The sum is greater than each of the component parts…

My grandfather had favourite fable of Aesop that he used to recount to me:
“An old man on the point of death summoned his sons around him to give them some parting advice. He ordered his servants to bring to him a bundle of sticks, and said to his eldest son: “Break it.” The son strained and strained, but with all his efforts was unable to break the bundle. The other sons also tried, but none of them was successful. “Untie the bundle,” said the father, “and each of you take a stick.” When they had done so, he called out to them: “Now, break,” and each stick was easily broken. “You see my meaning,” said their father, “Union gives strength.”

I also told the tale to my team of colleague at one stage and I was surprised that none of them had heard it before. When I mentioned it was one of Aesop’s fables, blank stares in my direction ensued. None had heard of the famed fabulist. I admit, they were younger than me, but my point is, there’s something very wrong with our education system.

Another busy day tomorrow, with the continuation of our staff workshop that I had to abandon today in order to visit Adelaide. Busy, busy, busy. All work and no play makes Nicholas a dull boy…

MUSIC HATH CHARMS...

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.” - William Congreve

We saw a wonderful French film at the weekend, Christophe Barratier’s 2004 film “The Choristers”. It was a very understated, simple film,  told quietly and with restraint, yet it dealt with some potent issues and packed quite a punch in the end. The film was nominated for the Oscars as “Best Foreign Language Film” for 2005, but lost to “Tsotsi”.

The story is set in 1949 France, in a small provincial town where in the outskirts there is a boarding school for “problem children”. The principal Monsieur Rachin, is an strict disciplinarian whose policy for the school is “action – reaction”. Any misdemeanour is quickly followed by harsh punishment. His approach antagonises the young inmates even more and this causes ever more new problems.

On January 15, 1949 M. Clément Mathieu arrives at the school, to assume duties as a supervisor. He is a middle-aged man who is struggling to find his place in the sun after a series of failures. Although he finds the boys an unruly bunch, Mathieu sees the adverse effects of the “action – reaction” policy, and clashes with Rachin, while undermining the policy.

Slowly, Mathieu's fairness and his love for the students does have a positive effect on a group of them. Mathieu approaches the headmaster to obtain permission to start a choir in the school. His move is a courageous one for him as a failed musician, as well as for the initially reluctant and “tough” students. During his efforts, Mathieu comes close to two different students for two different reasons. Pépinot, a sad little boy, who is withdrawn and is constantly awaiting for his father to visit, and Pierre Morhange, an older student, who is introverted, but likely to burst out periodically in episodes of subversiveness (“the devil with the face of an angel” as the other teachers describe him). However, Morhange also has a love of music and is truly talented as well.

The film is very engaging and enjoyable, with many poignant and memorable scenes. The acting is excellent, especially the children who give magnificent performance. An integral part of the film is the beautiful music, which won several awards for Bruno Coulais, the composer. I highly recommend this movie which is an absolute delight.

BRUEGHEL FOR SUNDAY

“One of the best things about paintings is their silence - which prompts reflection and random reverie.” - Mark Stevens

For Art Sunday today a painting I love not for its foreground, but for its background. It is Jan Brueghel the Elder’s (1568-1625) “Large Fish Market” of 1603 presently in the Alte Pinakothek in Munich. Jan Brueghel was the youngest son of the brilliant and idiosyncratic Pieter Brueghel. His older brother, Pieter II, is mainly known as a copyist of his father's works, but perhaps because his father died when he was an infant, Jan developed a very different style. He was a skilled landscapist and still-life painter, often collaborating with other artists when there was a need to put figures into the foreground of a scene.

This particular painting is extremely busy and contains an inordinate amount of detail. The foreground is awash with people and fish, animals, bits and pieces. One is at a loss to try and determine where to look first. Many small details are picaresque or humorous, some poignant others amusing. The pullulating mass of humanity at the market attracts the eye and then repels. The glory of the picture is in the middle and background where a seascape to the left and a cityscape to the right attract the eye with their mystery.

The glorious ultramarine tones of the distant mountains and sky contrast with the warm yellow of the sunlight to the left and once again one immersed in the details of ships, buildings, distant figures. There is an invitation to escape into this window into the past and discover the hidden mysteries of the alleys and laneways, climb the steps of the fortress, seek out some distant rooftop and gaze out into the sea and the ships of the harbour.

Because of his fondness of certain subjects and glowing enamel paint, Jan Brueghel was given the nickname “Velvet” or “Flower” Brueghel. Besides historical scenes, paradisiacal images of animals, and genre scenes, he was above all a painter of landscape and of flower pieces. Brueghel was well-to-do and respected, owning several houses in Antwerp as well as a considerable art collection. His sons and grandsons continued the family artistic tradition.

MELANCHOLY MOOD

“One often calms one's grief by recounting it.” - Pierre Corneille

I am in a rather melancholy mood tonight and usually Bach is what I listen to when I feel like this. It is soothing and introspective music that helps me think and meditate.

Here is the Bach Prelude for Lute in D Minor BWV 1008, played by David Tayler on the archlute.

THE GOLDEN APPLE OF THE HESPERIDES

“If junk food is the devil, then a sweet orange is as scripture.” - Terri Guillemets

Our orange tree is laden with wonderful, ripe, bright oranges. They shine like beacons amongst the glossy dark green leaves and the tree is more beautiful than a decorated Christmas tree. The taste of the oranges is rich, sweet and sour and the flavour is wonderful: The essence of winter that encloses within it the promise of spring. We eat them, juice them and cook with them. Here is a winter recipe:

CRÈME BRÛLÉE A L’ ORANGE
Ingredients
•    Finely grated rind of 1 orange
•    Juice of 1 orange
•    6 egg yolks
•    300 g caster sugar
•    600 ml thickened cream

Method
1.    Preheat the oven to 160°C.
2.    Place the orange rind, juice, egg yolks and 150g caster sugar in a food processor and process until combined.
3.    Place the thickened cream in a saucepan over medium heat and bring to just below boiling point. Stir the orange mixture into the heated cream, then divide the mixture among six 120 ml ramekins. Place the ramekins in a large roasting pan, then pour in enough boiling water to come halfway up sides of the ramekins. Place in the oven and bake for 30 minutes until the mixtures have just set.
4.    Remove the roasting pan from the oven and carefully remove the ramekins from the water. Cool for 20 minutes, then chill in the fridge for 2-3 hours until firm.
5.    For the topping, have ready a large bowl or sink filled with cold water. Place the remaining sugar and 130 ml water in a pan over low heat, stirring to dissolve sugar. Increase heat to medium - do not stir. Cook for 3-4 minutes until a light caramel colour.
6.    Remove from heat, then plunge the base of the pan into cold water to stop cooking process. Pour a thin layer over the custards and leave to set.

ST SWITHIN

“Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.” - John Ruskin

The last few days at work have been a whirlwind. I have been doing ten million things at once, have had meetings, working on submissions that are due to be lodged, entertaining interstate visitors, making preparations for a staff workshop next week, dealing with network outages, attending to several crises and numerous troubleshooting interventions. I didn’t have time to have lunch yesterday and even going in at 7:00 a.m. and leaving at 6:00 p.m isn’t enough to deal with the work that is accumulating. I have brought home some work to be done at the weekend, but I am too tired to work in the evening. I think that 11 and 12-hour work days are long enough. I certainly hope that by the end of the month the workload will ease…

Today is St Swithin’s Day in the Anglican calendar. St Swithin was a Saxon bishop of Winchester, well-beloved of his flock, who is believed to have died in 862 AD.  As his last wish before he died, he stipulated to be buried in the common churchyard amongst his poor parishioners.  His wish was granted, but so many miracles occurred at his grave that monks moved his remains to a magnificent shrine in Winchester Cathedral.  The Saint wept in protest causing a downpour that lasted for forty days:

St Swithin’s Day, if thou dost rain
Full forty days it will remain.
St Swithin’s Day, if thou be fair
For forty days ‘t will rain no mair.

In Buckingamshire the following variant of the weather oracle exists:

If on St Swithin’s day it really pours
You’re better off to stay indoors.

However, it was also believed in some parts of Britain that rain on St Swithin’s Day “christened” the apples which still should be unpicked on the trees.  No apples should be picked before St Swithin’s blessing is bestowed upon them; only then are they to ripen fully and reach their maturity. St Swithin is invoked in droughts, when it is thought that his intercession will bring about rain.

oracle |ˈôrəkəl| noun
1 A priest or priestess acting as a medium through whom advice or prophecy was sought from the gods in classical antiquity.
• A place at which such advice or prophecy was sought.
• A person or thing regarded as an infallible authority or guide on something : Casting the attorney general as the oracle for and guardian of the public interest is simply impossible.
2 a response or message given by an oracle, typically one that is ambiguous or obscure.
ORIGIN: late Middle English : via Old French from Latin oraculum, from orare ‘speak.’

BASTILLE DAY 2010

“Most men are more capable of great actions than of good ones.” – Montesquieu

It is Bastille Day today, the National Day of France. France is a Western European country with shores on the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea. It has an area of 544,000 square km and a population of 60 million. Its terrain is varied with high plateaux, mountain ranges and lowland basins. Its climate is mild ranging from typical Mediterranean in the South, to mild and wet further to the North. Agriculture is favoured by both land and climate making France one of the major European exporters of wheat, barley, sugar beet and wine. Manufacturing is the other major employer with rich reserves of oil, gas and coal assisting greatly the economy. French perfumes and other luxury goods are a major income earner while tourism is also a major industry. Paris is the capital city with other major cities being Lyon, Marseille, Bordeaux, Lille, Grenoble, Rouen, Nantes and Toulouse.

The Bastille was an infamous prison in Paris, which the people stormed and seized in 1789, thus starting the French Revolution that toppled King Louis XVI and the aristocracy, ushering in the Republic. The revolutionary French song, “La Marseillaise” was composed by Claude-Joseph Rouget de Lisle in 1792 and soon became the rousing song of the revolution and later, the national anthem.
The first stanza is:

    Allons enfants de la patrie,
    Le jour de gloire est arrivé.
    Contre nous de la tyrannie
    L'étendard sanglant est levé.
   
    Arise, children of the nation!
    The day of glory is here.
    Against us we see raised
    Tyranny’s bloody banner!

Hector Berlioz in the 19th century arranged the anthem for chorus and orchestra. In true French style, where the composer would normally instruct “tenors and basses” to begin singing, Berlioz wrote “everyone with a voice, soul, and blood in his veins, sing!” After another revolt in 1830, there was new interest in La Marseillaise. De Lisle wrote Berlioz a letter of appreciation for his arrangement, and invited Berlioz to discuss a libretto that de Lisle had written, but de Lisle died before they could meet.

The Bastille Day holiday in France symbolises the overthrow of the old monarchy and the beginning of the French Republic. Not only was the French monarchy undemocratic, but the king and aristocracy also owned most of the arable land and extracted not only the rent but imposed taxes and restrictions on the people. The Bastille with its many poor prisoners, many of them debtors and political prisoners, symbolised all that was bad in the corrupt, greedy and profligate monarchy. Economic injustice caused the French revolutionaries to storm the Bastille. Economic injustice still remains in today’s world. Many third world countries still do battle with unjust systems and have to do daily battle with corrupt, greedy powerbrokers in power. The spectre of the Bastille still haunts many an unfortunate land…

As we are looking at France today, here is a poem by Paul Eluard:

The Deaf and Blind

Do we reach the sea with clocks
In our pockets, with the noise of the sea
In the sea, or are we the carriers
Of a purer and more silent water?

The water rubbing against our hands sharpens knives.
The warriors have found their weapons in the waves
And the sound of their blows is like
The rocks that smash the boats at night.

It is the storm and the thunder. Why not the silence
Of the flood, for we have dreamt within us
Space for the greatest silence and we breathe
Like the wind over terrible seas, like the wind

That creeps slowly over every horizon.

                                        Paul Eluard (14 December 1895 – 18 November 1952)

OBON FESTIVAL

“You are invited to the festival of this world and your life is blessed” - Rabindranath Tagore

Obon is one of the most important cultural traditions of the Japanese. It is a Buddhist festival and is traditionally a period of praying for the repose of the souls of one’s ancestors. Prayers are said especially for anyone who has died in the previous year as it is believed that they need more guidance to find their way. People believe that their ancestors’ spirits come back to their homes to be reunited with their family during Obon.

Obon is an important family gathering time and many people return to the place they were born or where their family resides. Traditionally, Obon was originally celebrated around the 15th day of the seventh month of the lunar calendar. However, with the introduction of the Western solar calendar to Japan, Obon periods are nowadays different in various regions of Japan. In most regions, Obon is celebrated around August 15th on the solar calendar. It starts from August 13th and ends on 16th. In some areas in Tokyo, Obon is celebrated around July 15th on the solar calendar, and it is still celebrated on the 15th day of the seventh month of the lunar calendar in many areas in Okinawa.

The festival was started in the 7th century although many of the events have changed and it is one of the most significant and enjoyable of the Japanese festivals. It goes by a variety of names, the most popular of which is “The Festival of the Dead”. People clean their houses and offer a variety of food such as vegetables and fruits to the spirits of ancestors in front of the butsudan (Buddhist family altar). The butsudan is decorated with flowers and chouchin (paper lanterns). On the 13th, chouchin are lit inside houses, and people go to their family’s graves to call their ancestors’ spirits back home. This custom is called mukaebon. In some regions, fires called mukaebi are lit at the entrances to homes to guide the ancestors’ spirits.

On the 16th, People bring the ancestors’ spirits back to graves, hanging chouchin painted with the family crest to guide the ancestors’ spirits. This is called okuribon. In some regions, fires called okuribi are lit at entrances of homes to send the ancestors’ spirits away. During Obon, the air in houses and cemeteries in Japan are filled with the smell of incense called senko. Toro Nagashi (floating paper lanterns) is a custom often held during Obon. On the evening of the 15th, people send off ancestors’ spirits with a paper lantern inside which is a lit candle. The lanterns are floated down a river to the ocean.

Bon odori (folk dances) are customary during Obon. The kind of dance varies from area to area. People wearing yukata (summer kimono) go to the neighbourhood bon odori hall and dance around a yagura stage. Anyone can participate in bon odori, and everyone is invited to join the circle of dancers and imitate what others are doing. Usually, taiko drums keep the rhythms in bon odori.

MOVIE MONDAY - FIRST KNIGHT

“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge - myth is more potent than history - dreams are more powerful than facts - hope always triumphs over experience - laughter is the cure for grief - love is stronger than death” – Robert Fulghum

We watched Jerry Zucker’s 1995 film “First Knight” at the weekend. I had already seen it once when it was first released and I remember that I had not liked it much then. However, we had it given to us on a Bluray disc so we watched it. I must say that I was pleasantly surprised, as not only it did not grate, but it was quite entertaining. The picture quality was stunning and the sound magnificent, and this time round I did not concentrate too much on the departure from the “standard” Arthurian legends, nor did pay too much attention to the daggy costumes. The film was entertaining because of the restrained performances, the good dialogue and the winsome actors.

The first thing to say to the detractors of the film (including me many years ago!) is that the Arthurian legends are simply that – legends! There is no historical King Arthur, nor is there a Merlin or Morgan le Fay or a Mordred or an Excalibur! So if a film does not follow the “legend” it is not a departure from history, it is an interpretation, an alternative story, a retelling, if you like. This particular film does not have an ounce of the supernatural in it and as such, appears more authentic than the “usual” Arthur legends. There is a good action story behind it all and it feels more like a historical romance than a grandiose blockbuster epic reworking of a legend. However, despite the romantic story, there is action in and battle scenes and swordfights…

The story concerns an ageing King Arthur who is just returning to Camelot after having won some battles and is looking forward to a content “retirement”, deciding to marry Lady Guinevere of Lyonesse, the neighbouring kingdom. Lancelot is an orphaned young man who lives by the sword, fighting for money with his swordmanship, which he has honed to a fine entertaining art. Lady Guinevere, on her way to marry King Arthur is ambushed by the evil Sir Malagant, a fallen knight of the Round table who now wishes to subjugate both Camelot and Lyonesse, as well as making away with Guinevere. In the ambush Guinevere is captured by Malagant’s men and Lancelot who chances to be in the forest, rescues her. They fall in love, but Guinevere is honourable and sees in Arthur not only a noble a husband, but also a protector for her beloved Lyonesse. Lancelot and Guinevere part, but only temporarily because Lancelot turns up in Camelot on her wedding day and earns the right of a kiss, which he gallantly foregoes and makes a friend of Arthur. Many more adventures follow in which Malagant, Arthur and Lancelot feature prominently. Who will win the heart of Guinevere in the end?

The movie is filled with incident and there are some gorgeous landscapes. My favourite is the view of Lyonesse with a windmill in the foreground which looks like an old Flemish painting, with due credit to Adam Greenberg, the cinematographer. Camelot is rendered nicely, although looking rather fake and I have already mentioned the shortcomings of the costumes. The music is suitably rousing and tender as befits the scene but one expects that of a Jerry Goldsmith score. Jerry Zucker does a good job with directing this movie, considering his forte is really comedy (“Flying High”, “The Naked Gun”, “Ruthless People”, etc).

Overall, the movie was more enjoyable this second time around and I am glad that I gave it a second chance. If you are a purist and seek a true to the legend Arthur, this film is not for you. Rather it is a good “film inspired by” the Arthurian legends and should please both boys and girls...

ART SUNDAY - LUSHPIN

“I am essentially a painter of the kind of still life composition that communicates a sense of tranquillity and privacy, moods which I have always valued above all else.” – Giorgio Morandi

When I was younger I really detested modern abstract painting. For example, Jackson Pollock and his “Blue Poles” or Kasimir Malevich’s pathetic and insulting “Black Square”.  I still dislike most of it, but have developed a liking for some abstract art that generates some sort of positive emotional response, rather than a negative one of abhorrence, anger or bamboozlement. On the other hand, I dislike modern pretty paintings of most realists that comes under the umbrella of “kitch” or “kiss-me-pretty” type of art. You know the kind that Thomas Kinkade glorifies in and is a Christmas-card perfect, saccharine-sweet and pastel-coloured view of the world.

I am still to be convinced about some artists that dabble in neo-realism, but in any case one has to wonder at their technical expertise and wonderful rendition of the world in glorious, technicolour photorealism. Generally, their paintings sell well and they sell at a pretty price too. Admittedly, given the choice I would rather a photorealist painting rather than an abstract one. They are less obtrusive and jar one’s senses less... I typically prefer my art more painterly, more expressionistic, more emotional and sensuous painting that grips one and draws one into the canvas.

For Art Sunday today, a photorealist who started out with a sense of painting in an academic style that was almost surrealistic in its realism and who in his later world has begun to approach the commercialism of Kincade. It is Evgeny Lushpin, who was born in Moscow in 1966. He graduated from Art-graphic department MGPU and Stroganov Moscow State University of Arts. Lushpin’s work follows the traditions of representational art of both Russian and West European pictorial art. Virtuosity and technical excellence in handling the medium, a good sense of color and form, and good composition are all found in his art.

Lately Lushpin paints landscapes and cityscapes, which he paints in a realistic manner that can err into the prettification and idealism of a plastic kitch universe. The dramatic lighting of sunset or dvanced twilight is a favourite of his, with contrasting blues and yellow-oranges of natural failing light and artificial light. His works are popular and can be found in many private collections in the USA, Europe and Russia.

Above is a painting of his that I really like. A study of bottles and other stock “still life” items that have been assembled together to highlight the painter’s skill in handling colour, composition and supreme mastery of his medium. This a calming work that can have a Zen-like effect on one’s consciousness. It dates from 1999.

On the other hand, here you can find a painting of his that I don’t find particularly appealing and is typical of his later work: The Kincade-like cityscape of dramatic lighting and saccharine sweetness of his “Evening Journey”. The jury is still out on Mr Lushpin…

SONG SATURDAY - BERLIOZ

“Death is a delightful hiding place for weary men.” – Herodotus

A delicious song from Song Saturday from the pen of Hector Berlioz, being inspired by William Shaekespeare. It is “La Mort d’ Ophélie” – Ophelia’s Death, his opus 18/2, sung perfectly by Cecilia Bartoli and accompanied faultlessly and sensitively by Myung-Whun Chung on the piano.





“There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death…”

WARM HOMEMADE BREAD

“Good bread is the most fundamentally satisfying of all foods; good bread with fresh butter, the greatest of feasts!” - James Beard

I love the smell of fresh bread baking in the oven and there’s nothing like having a slice of it hot out of the oven with lashings of butter melting over it. Fortunately, nowadays we have the convenience of dried yeast, warm places for it to rise even on the coldest winter day and a reliable oven that will bake it evenly and thoroughly. The following recipe is one we use often and it is remarkably easy to make this bread, even without using any machinery, mixers, bread makers and the like.

EASY BREAD

Ingredients
•    Melted butter, for greasing and brushing
•    250g plain white flour
•    250g plain wholemeal flour
•    2 tsp (7g/1 sachet) dried yeast
•    1.5 tsp salt
•    375mls (1 1/2 cups) lukewarm water
•    ½ cup oil
•    Extra water, for brushing
•    1 tsp poppy seeds, for sprinkling (optional)

Method
1.    Brush a 10 x 20cm loaf pan with the melted butter to lightly grease. Measure all your ingredients.
2.    Place the plain flour, yeast and salt in a large bowl and mix well to combine. Make a well in the centre and add the lukewarm water and oil to the dry ingredients and mix well.
3.    Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8-10 minutes or until smooth and elastic.
4.    Shape the dough into a ball. Brush a large bowl with the melted butter to grease. Place the dough into the bowl and turn it over to lightly coat the dough surface with the butter. Cover the bowl with a damp tea towel and then place it in a warm, draught-free place to allow the dough to rise.
5.    Leave the dough to prove until it is double its size, between 45-75 minutes at 30˚C. When the dough is ready, it will retain a finger imprint when lightly pressed.
6.    Once the dough has doubled in size, punch it down in the centre with your fist and knead on a lightly floured surface again for 2-3 minutes or until smooth and elastic and returned to its original size.
7.    Preheat oven to 200°C.
8.    Divide the dough into 2 equal portions and shape each into a smooth round. Place the portions of dough side by side in the greased loaf pan. Brush lightly with the melted butter. Stand the pan in a warm, draught-free place, as before, for about 30 minutes or until the dough has risen about 1cm about the top of the pan.
9.    Gently brush the loaf with a little water and then sprinkle with the poppy seeds if desired. Bake in preheated oven for 30 minutes or until golden and cooked through.
10.    Turn the loaf immediately onto a wire rack and allow to cool.
11.    Once cool, store the loaf in a well-ventilated place at room temperature.

KNOWLEDGE & WISDOM...

“History is philosophy teaching by examples.” - Thucydides

I am preparing seven lectures that I shall record for our online learning students. I had forgotten the greatly stimulating intellectual activity this is, since I took up my new job exactly two-and-a-half years ago. As my work currently involves no actual teaching but more higher adminstrative, strategic and executive duties, it is rather refreshing to be invited to do these lectures. However, the problem is that I am continuing with all of my other tasks while preparing these lectures, which as is usual with me I have left till the last minute. Nevertheless, the lectures will be done and done well, even if they are got ready at the eleventh hour.

The subject is the historical development of medicine worldwide with the views of healing and health to be placed into social and philosophical context. It is a fascinating subject and my lectures look at two distinct periods: Prehistory to 3,000 BC worldwide for two lectures, and then the remaining five lectures on the development of Western medicine from its origins in Mesopotamia and Egypt to the 18th century. I am trying to make these lectures as engaging as possible and include much visual material as well as “case studies” illustrating how people lived, got sick and got better (or not!). My colleagues are preparing and delivering the remaining lectures that look at ancient China, India, Australasia and Europe from the 19th century until now. It will be a wonderful coverage and a good introduction to the students’ study of health.

One problem that constantly besets an educator is how to cover enormous quantities of material in the short time allowed for teaching. One has to be broad and all-encompassing, while at the same brief and germane. It takes a special skill to omit much and still keep the essential in what one present to students. One must stimulate and engage, tease and lead, interest and pique curiosity so that the student is tempted to go and read more afterwards. The job of the teacher is stimulate the students’ mind and to light the fire of the thirst for knowledge. Learning then becomes the job of the student.

While preparing these lectures, I am lost in byways of peripheral material that I read for my own interest, become fascinated by tangential information and learn much myself. How much there is discover, to learn and enjoy, while teaching others! I became fascinated by the prehistory and history of the Americas and learned much about the Inuit, the Amerindians, the Olmecs, Mayas, Aztecs and Incas. It is surprising how similar views of health and disease are worldwide when one goes back to several thousand years before today.

The slow development of supernatural ideas into empiricism, to philosophical considerations to the scientific approach is quite intriguing and the way the different cultures have coped with these changing perspectives at quite different rates is worthy of great study. The more one investigates a topic the more one learns the more one realizes the truth behind Socrates’ famous dictum: “I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance.”



Knowledge is easy enough to acquire if one has time and expends some of this time in active study. The trouble is to learn enough and be able to use it with one’s experience, soundness of action, and good judgment so that is becomes wisdom…

knowledge |ˈnälij| noun
1 Facts, information, and skills acquired by a person through experience or education; the theoretical or practical understanding of a subject: A thirst for knowledge | Her considerable knowledge of antiques.
• What is known in a particular field or in total; facts and information: The transmission of knowledge.
• Philosophy True, justified belief; certain understanding, as opposed to opinion.
2 Awareness or familiarity gained by experience of a fact or situation: The program had been developed without his knowledge | He denied all knowledge of the overnight incidents.
adjective
Relating to organised information stored electronically or digitally: The knowledge economy.
PHRASES
come to one’s knowledge: Become known to one.
To ( the best of) my knowledge 1 so far as I know. 2 as I know for certain.
ORIGIN: Middle English (originally as a verb in the sense [acknowledge, recognise,] later as a noun): from an Old English compound based on cnāwan [recognize, identify] of Germanic origin; from an Indo-European root shared by Latin (g)noscere, Greek gignōskein.

WINTER TWILIGHT

“A man’s age is something impressive, it sums up his life: maturity reached slowly and against many obstacles, illnesses cured, griefs and despairs overcome, and unconscious risks taken; maturity formed through so many desires, hopes, regrets, forgotten things, loves. A man’s age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories.” - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

A family friend is well into her 80s and lives alone. She has a son, but he has his own family and lives in another suburb, although he and his family visit her often. We often drop in too, as do some other of her other friends. In the last few months she is getting more forgetful, confuses words and may be in the early stages of dementia. Her health is otherwise good, but what a difference the decline of the brain makes on the ability to live a rich and fulfilling life. I think if ever I were to become demented I would want a rapid end as it would not be me anymore. If the brain deteriorates, then everything is over, what makes us a unique and individual person disappears. This poem is written for her on this wintry night…

Winter Twilight

A grey afternoon and leaden sky
Dies down into silvery twilight,
As the sun slips away in the west
And the last ray tinged with green, flashes.

My room dark, cold and empty
Waiting for night with resignation,
While I touch familiar things
Searching for reassurance.

Silence as the road becomes deserted
The birds long since roosted for the night.
The ticking of a clock, a rustle of wind,
My mind turning over thoughts restlessly.

The cloudy sky covers moon and stars
And kills all hopeful signs of morning.
The light still out, I watch the darkness
Creep around me, night falling hard.

Winter is long and harsh this year,
Spring thoughts hard to conjure up,
As years weigh heavily on my back
And warmth is only found by the fireside...

TO BIKE OR NOT TO BIKE?

“Get a bicycle. You will not regret it if you live.” - Mark Twain

I was going to work this morning and was nearly run down by a bicycle that was careening down the footpath. As readers of this blog know, I go to work early and at 7:00 am it is still dark. This fellow on the bike not only did not have his light on, but he also did not wear a helmet, was wearing dark clothing and was using the footpath to ride on even though there was perfectly good bicycle lane on the side of the road. As if to add insult to injury he started cursing me as he rode away (still on the footpath). Well I was clearly in the wrong, wasn’t I? Here I was, a pedestrian on the footpath getting in the way of a mad cyclist with no headlight who was riding like a bat out of hell on the footpath…

I am all for encouraging bicycle use in the city and I applaud all those people who are conscientious enough to be environmentally aware and use a bike instead of a car or public transport. When I was living in Holland, I used a bicycle constantly and it was a very efficient mode of transport (it’s great for keeping fit too!). However, lately the cyclists of Melbourne are getting very aggressive and uppity. Firstly, they need to wear the latest slinky gear (not always of high visibility) and ride race cycles that cost a small fortune and are not suited to commuter use. Secondly they have this “holier-than-thou” attitude that immediately turns me off and I am tempted to tell them that I ride a V8 fuel-guzzling tank to work and down the milk bar to buy milk instead of walking (well, I don’t, but I feel like inflaming their sensibilities). Thirdly, they so often break the law: Riding in the dark without adequate head- and tail-lights or reflective clothing; without a helmet; against red lights; on footpaths; abusing pedestrians, etc, etc.

I have yet to observe a police officer stopping a cyclist and giving them a ticket, although I have witnessed cyclists doing silly things on city streets in full view of traffic police. No doubt, cyclists also get tickets and fines, but I am not aware of any cyclist who has been fined. Some of my colleagues at work and some family friends regularly ride bicycles and I am glad to say that they are safe riders. So yes, there are good, law-abiding and safe cyclists out there. However, there are also the morons that give bicycle riding a bad name.

One may ask me, why don’t you ride a bicycle in Melbourne since you rode one in Holland? Well, I would, if I thought it was safe to do so. I am extremely wary of even thinking about riding a bicycle, as the car and truck drivers on Melbourne roads are not bicycle aware. Getting on a bicycle and confronting traffic at peak hour is taking your life into your own hands. There are some bike lanes on streets, but they are frequently obstructed or not well marked, or not observed by cars. One hears so frequently of cyclists getting struck down, injured or killed. In my previous job, a colleague was injured seriously when struck down by a truck who had not “seen him”.

So where does the solution to the problem lie? The state should ensure that bike riders are safe on our streets. Having safe and highly visible bicycle lanes is the way the Dutch have solved this problem. Cycling in Holland is both safe and enjoyable. Better road rules as they relate to cycling should be legislated and their enforcement carried out strictly. Cyclists should be licensed perhaps, in a similar way that car drivers and motorcyclists are licensed. Safe riding of bicycles should be enforced by traffic police and hefty fines should be given to law breakers. These and more measures in a similar vein would not only encourage more people to use bicycles, but it would also make it safer for cyclists and other road users to ride and drive on our roads. Not to mention walking in footpaths!

My views on cycling, approximate Elizabeth West’s when she says: “When man invented the bicycle he reached the peak of his attainments. Here was a machine of precision and balance for the convenience of man. And (unlike subsequent inventions for man’s convenience) the more he used it, the fitter his body became. Here, for once, was a product of man’s brain that was entirely beneficial to those who used it, and of no harm or irritation to others. Progress should have stopped when man invented the bicycle.”

Well, a touch of hyperbole never hurt anybody!

MOVIE MONDAY - DREAMCATCHER

“If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be the greatest prodigality.” - Benjamin Franklin

We watched a really trashy movie at the weekend and I can’t make up my mind whether it was a complete waste of time or whether we were entertained. I’d be inclined to say the former… The film was the 2003 Lawrence Kasdan adaptation of Stephen King’s “Dreamcatcher”. If you know nothing about this book or movie, it is an odd bird, part thriller, part sci-fi, part fantasy, part drama, part I-don’t-know-what. Although the production values are typically Hollywood and one can see that a lot of money was spent on the movie, the basic storyline is bilge that has been trawled up from the depths of bathos.

The title relates to the Ojibway American Indian tradition, who would tie sinew strands in a web around a small round or tear-shaped frame and hang this “dreamcatcher” as a charm to protect sleeping children from nightmares. Their legend relates that the bad dreams will get caught in the web, while good dreams will pass through it. Traditionally, Native American dreamcatchers are small (only a few centimetres across) and made of bent wood and sinew string with a feather hanging from the netting. Nowadays, they are made larger, with sturdier string and more decorations, obviously meant to last longer and appeal to the market.

The significance of the dreamcatcher in the film is obscure but trust me, that is not the only thing that is obscure. There is much pop culture and urban myth wound up in the plot but also lots of contemporary (colourful) language and the recurrent SSDD acronym that (innocent me) had to look up (not having read the novel). The acronym sets the tone for the movie and stands for “Same Shit Different Day”. Wow, that’s deep!

The plot centres on four childhood friends, Jonesy, Pete, Beaver and Henry who are now grown up and have kept close because of a special power they share – they can read minds. Once a year, they go on a hunting trip to the Jefferson Tract in winter. They find a sick man wandering through the forest in the middle of a blizzard. The man has red marks on his face and a bloated belly. And then the aliens come in! The man is harbouring an alien life form in his innards. A paramilitary force led by a slightly crazy veteran soldier (Morgan Freeman! How did he ever sign up for this movie) attempts to quarantine the area. It runs out that this commander has long experience with alien invasions and will stop at nothing to destroy the aliens (even kill a few hundred or thousands of civilians if he must). The four friends have to stop the aliens and the mad commander before they die themselves. Oh, and there is Duddits who is an intellectually disabled child with special powers who has a special bond with the four friends. Will they save the world and destroy the aliens? You have three guesses!

The alien life forms are quite horrid things with a complex life-cycle, but they are egg laying and go through a nasty larval phase with the adult forms not looking terribly beautiful either. This is a B grade (maybe F grade?) movie, which we nevertheless watched to the end. However, it left a bad aftertaste in ones mouth and yes, it was a bit of a waste of time. Watch only if you are really desperate…