SAPPHO AND AVATON

“Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables” - Sappho

A quiet day today and an even quieter evening tonight. For Music Saturday, something old and new at the same time. Something exotic and something indigenous… A curious mixture of the genuine and the imagined. A Greek progressive music group of the 1990s that took inspiration from ancient poems and imagined ancient music. The group is called “Avaton” and here is their rendition of one Sappho’s poetic fragments:

Αεριων επεων αρχομαι αλλ’ονατων [ε] γω το καλλος επιτ[μεζον]…
οφθαλμοις δε μελαις νυκτος αωρος και ποθηω και μαομαι ουκ οιδοττι θεω
διχα μοι τα νοηματα κατ’ εμον σταλαχμον
ου τι μοι υμμες ας θελετε υμμες [ο] ττινας
γαρ ευ θεω κηνοι με μαλιστα παντων σινοντα[ι]
εγω δ’εμ’[αυται τουτο συ]νοιδα
μη κινη χεραδος ου γαρ θεμις εν μοισοπολων οικιαι
θρηνων εμμεν
ου κ’αμμι ταδε πρεποι
ΣΑΠΦΩ (≈620 BC - 570 BC)

I start my song with ethereal soft words. In my life I served beauty.
Along the night, when dark sleep captures my eyes and desire burns me and excites my body,
I know not what to do: my mind is divided drop after drop the pain within me…
No, it’s not you who for me, as much you want it,
For they whom I benefit injure me most...
Yes, I have placed this deep in my mind and I know it.
Leave the pebbles and don’t mix them up. Lamentations are not be heard into poets’ homes.
Such things are not appropriate for us.
SAPPHO (≈620 BC - 570 BC)

GOULASH

“Every man who possibly can should force himself to a holiday of a full month in a year, whether he feels like taking it or not.” - William James

Well, I took Wiliam James’ advice and forced myself to have a holiday. I shall have eight days off rather than a month, but already I am greatly looking forward to it. We have nothing planned, but who knows, we may go away or we may stay at home. It all depends on what is available and how we feel. One thing is for certain, I shall not be at work on Monday!

Another wonderful winter dish for today’s Food Friday. I remember visiting Budapest many years ago, now and tasting the authentic version of this dish in a little tavern in the suburbs – it was delicious!

HUNGARIAN GOULASH
Ingredients
60     g butter
2    tablespoonfuls of oil
1    kg lean stewing steak cut into 2 cm cubes
1/2    kg onions
1    clove garlic, crushed
2    tablespoonfuls paprika
150    mL water
1    bay leaf
1/2    kg small new potatoes, peeled
salt and ground pepper to taste
sour cream.

Method
Melt the butter with the oil in the cooking saucepan and add the beef cubes when the fat is very hot, browning quickly on all sides. As the meat is sealed, remove from the pan and reserve. Add the chopped onion and cook until golden. Add the paprika, salt, pepper and garlic, the water and bay leaf. Return the beef cubes to the pan and stir to coat them thoroughly with the sauce. Bring to the boil, cover and simmer for about an hour. Stir in the potatoes and continue simmering for a further hour until cooked. Remove the bay leaf and spoon goulash into warmed bowls, spooning the sour cream on top. Serve with a gutsy shiraz or cabernet.

TIME

“It strikes! one, two,
Three, four, five, six. Enough, enough, dear watch,
Thy pulse hath beat enough. Now sleep and rest;
Would thou could'st make the time to do so too;
I'll wind thee up no more.” - Ben Jonson


I can’t believe it will be August in a couple of days time! The year has flown past and before not too long it will be December again. Time and our perception of it is an amazing thing. Sometimes it drags and hors seem like centuries, while other times months whiz past as if they were seconds. I have been so busy at work this year that I think this is what has made me believe the year has flown by. I guess growing older may also have something to do with it…

The older we become and the great our age, the shorter each year becomes relative to those we have lived through. Someone 80 years old sees one year as one eightieth of their life, whereas a child of eight would see one year as one eighth of its life. For a child the year drags on and on, for an older person it flies past. For a lover waiting his beloved, seconds dilate into hours. For a condemned man waiting execution, days become seconds as the day of death draws closer.

The more one thinks of time the more one becomes fascinated and perplexed. It can be seen as a ribbon unwinding and moving ever forward, our finger following it along sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Some say it can only go forward and certainly that is what our ordinary every day experience seems to indicate as the logical thing. However, moving backwards in time is something that has fascinated humans from time immemorial. Fast forward and fast reverse like a video player, perhaps? The typical time machine experience…

Einstein’s relativity theory and the various experiments that have been done to test it out have proven that time is elastic. Time goes slower in heavier gravitational environments. Space-time is curved and the universe is expanding… There is some evidence that time travel may be possible, but not within our lifetime surely!

relativity |ˌreləˈtivətē| noun
1 The absence of standards of absolute and universal application: Moral relativity.
2 Physics the dependence of various physical phenomena on relative motion of the observer and the observed objects, esp. regarding the nature and behavior of light, space, time, and gravity.
The concept of relativity was set out in Einstein's special theory of relativity, published in 1905. This states that all motion is relative and that the velocity of light in a vacuum has a constant value that nothing can exceed. Among its consequences are the following: The mass of a body increases and its length (in the direction of motion) shortens as its speed increases; the time interval between two events occurring in a moving body appears greater to a stationary observer; and mass and energy are equivalent and interconvertible. Einstein's general theory of relativity, published in 1915, extended the theory to accelerated motion and gravitation, which was treated as a curvature of the space-time continuum. It predicted that light rays would be deflected and shifted in wavelength when passing through a substantial gravitational field, effects that have been experimentally confirmed.

YANNIS RITSOS

“Force is all-conquering, but its victories are short-lived.” - Abraham Lincoln

For Poetry Wednesday today, Yannis Ritsos (1909–90), a Greek poet. He is one of modern Greece’s most widely translated poets and moved from an early concern with classical themes and style to a more deeply personal lyricism. His writing reflects family tragedies, a stay in a tuberculosis ward, and his political engagement against dictatorship that earned him periods of deportation and house arrest. He served time in prison camps during 1947-1952 and after the 1967 coup, thence living under house arrest or surveillance. He took moral power from his poems, and spoke of political enemies with compassion rather than bitterness.

Some of his best known works include: Tractor (1934), and Pyramids (1935). These two works  achieve a fragile balance between faith in the future, founded on the Communist ideal, and personal despair. Epitaph (1936). This was a lengthy poem which uses the mechanics of traditional poetry but expresses in a clear and simple language a message of fraternity and brotherhood. Vigil (1941-1953), and  Districts of the World (1949-1951). These were written from his experiences in prison camps, which occurred because of the Greek civil war and his stance against the Fascists

Later works marked Ritsos’ development and maturity as a Poet: The Moonlight-Sonata  (1956) – When Comes the Stranger (1958), The Old Women and the Sea (1958),  The Dead House (1959-1962) This is a long monologue partly inspired by the ancient Greek mythology and the ancient tragedies:  A characteristic of his latest poems such as: Late in the Night (1987-1989) is that they are filled with sadness and the awareness of suffering. But in a humbly poetic way Ritsos preserves a gleam of hope in his creative tragedy.

With These Stones
Yannis Ritsos

An unexpected wind blew. The heavy shutters creaked.
Leaves were lifted from the ground. They flew away, flew away.
Until only stones remained. Now we must make do with these –
he kept repeating – with these, with these. When night descended
the great, inky mountainside, he threw our keys into the well.
Ah, dear stones—he said—one by one I'll chisel
the unknown faces and my body, with its one hand
tightly clenched, raised above the wall.

May 30, 1968

Ageing
Yannis Ritsos

Saturday, Sunday, Saturday again – and before you know it, Monday.
A quiet dusk without colour, or trees, or chairs.
We have nothing to spend. The old pitcher on the dinner table;
the plates, the glasses, the sad hands, the deserted –
the spoon rises; another mouth finds it – but which mouth?
Who eats? Who grows quiet? In the open window
a small, forgotten moon swallows its own spit.
It's not that we're no longer growing fat, but that we're no longer hungry.

June 4, 1968
Partheni concentration camp
Translated by Scott King

CORNFLOWERS OF ST PANTALEON

“To me the ideal doctor would be a man endowed with profound knowledge of life and of the soul, intuitively divining any suffering or disorder of whatever kind, and restoring peace by his mere presence.” - Henri Amiel

We had a disastrous day on the train system today, after a power fault in the city about 5:00 am was caused by an overhead contact cable that broke at North Melbourne train station and triggered a short circuit, affecting the viaduct between Southern Cross and Flinders Street stations. The outage plunged part of the Southern Cross station into darkness and stranded more than half of Melbourne's commuters travelling in and out of this major station. About 400,000 people were affected, but fortunately my train at 7:00 a.m. went through. I was wondering why the Southern Cross station was dark as we were going through it, but I didn’t think twice about it until later on that morning I started getting SMS messages from our staff who were stranded in various parts of the rail network.

Our public transport system is usually fair to good, but every now and then disruptions do occur and then chaos ensues, as happened today. Commuters will be hopefully be mollified on Friday as there is to be free public transport as an apology for the disrupttons today…

The cornflower (bluebottle), Centaurea cyanus, is the birthday flower for this day.  In Greek mythology, Cyanus was a young man who spent his days gathering flowers and adoring Chloris, the goddess of vegetation and flowers. When he died suddenly one day while in a cornfield, Chloris transformed him into the cornflower as a reward for his devotion.  The flower was used as a love oracle.  Carried in a young man’s pocket and surviving till the next day, meant that he would marry his sweetheart. If the flower withered and died, his sweetheart would leave him for someone else.  The petals of the flower yield a blue pigment that miniaturists used commonly in the past.  The flower symbolises delicacy and a dweller of heaven.  Astrologically it is Saturn’s plant under the sign of Libra.
In Faust, Goethe has Margaret speak:
    “Now, gentle flower, I pray thee tell
    If my love loves, and loves me well;
    So may the fall of the morning dew
    Keep the sun from fading thy tender blue.”

The Greek Orthodox faith celebrates the feast of St Panteleimon (also known as St Pantaleon) today. He was the son of a wealthy but pagan father and a devout Christian mother. He was born in the late 3rd century in Nicomedia and his mother brought him up as a Christian. He became a doctor and migrated to Rome, becoming a physician in emperor Maximian’s court. The rich life of the court tempted him away from his faith but an encounter with Hermolaus, a Christian priest reawakened a new Christian feeling in him. He sold all his possessions and donated the money to the poor, giving his medical services to all the needy for free. His fellow doctors were amazed by the numbers of miraculous cures he seemed to effect and their envy was instrumental in his denouncement and arrest as a Christian in emperor Diocletian’s persecution of ca 303 AD.  He was to be executed and six times he was miraculously saved, finally being successfully beheaded. He is known as a martyr and healer, the patron saint of cripples and invalids. A Greek proverb proclaims: “All the blind and crippled go to St Panteleimon”.

JULIE & JULIA

“Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.” - Harriet van Horne

I was in Brisbane today for work and it was an exhausting day. It is not very good to commute over such long distances as the day becomes tiring and one’s body objects somewhat. I must be getting old! I spent the whole day in a small room with the auditors that we had around, but at least all went well and the trip was successful.

At the weekend we saw an interesting little film, which on reflection was mildly amusing, but otherwise nothing to write home about. It was Nora Ephron’s 2009 “Julie & Julia”. The film is a double biography of famous American cook Julia Child and the less famous Julie Powell, also a cook and author. Meryl Streep who played Child overacted somewhat, just to ensure that everyone knew who the star was in the movie, while the rest of the cast were fairly competent.

The film is a constant hashing backward and forward in time (and place), between 1949 Paris and 2002 New York. In 1949, Julia Child, the wife of a diplomat, tries to spend her days constructively while her hubby (played in a laid back way by Stanley Tucci) works in the embassy. She tries millinery, bridge, and then cooking lessons at the Cordon Bleu school. There she discovers her passion for food and we follow her life until she writes her first cookbook. In 2002, Julie Powell, a public servant and unpublished author, decides to cook her way through Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” in a year and to blog about it.

The stories and the two women’s lives become tangled as there many common elements: Good friends (mostly), loving husbands, and of course the food. The zest of French cooking is conveyed well and the 1949 Paris scenes are well shot. I began to watch the film with interest, but halfway through I started drifting off. It was too long, too repetitive and Julia Child was too much, while Julie Powell was too bratty and had too many tantrums.

Nothing much happens in the film except for cooking and people talking at  one another. I don’t know, maybe I wasn’t in the mood…

ART SUNDAY - MARGARET PRESTON

“The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.” - Henry Miller


For Art Sunday today, the art of Margaret Preston (1875–1963). She was Australia’s foremost woman painter between the wars, who with her vital art sent a series of shock-waves through art circles. Not to mention her spirited journalism and her belligerent enthusiasm for living, during a career that spanned over seventy years. Her vibrant decorative paintings and prints of distinctively Australian subjects (especially flowers) have bewitched the Australian public since they were first exhibited in the early 1920s and made her one of the most well-known female artists.

Margaret Preston studied art in Sydney under W. Lister Lister, at the National Gallery School, Melbourne, and at the Adelaide School of Design. In 1904 she went to Munich to attend the Government Art School for Women, then going to Paris where she studied at the Musée Guimet and exhibited still lifes. After a brief return to Adelaide in 1907 she left again for Europe, working with disabled soldiers in Devon. In 1919, after returning to Australia by way of North America, she married William George Preston, a businessman, and settled in Sydney. The couple travelled extensively throughout Australia, the Middle East, Africa, Europe and the Pacific Islands.

Although well-known for her decorative still lifes, she was also a skilful wood engraver and linocut printer. Her prints featuring Australian native plants have become very valuable in recent years. She was a writer and lecturer of art, being a champion of and influenced by Aboriginal bark paintings. She was a member of the Society of Artists, the Australian Art Association and the Contemporary Group, Sydney. At the Paris International Exhibition in 1937 she was awarded a silver medal.

She was quick-witted and a lively writer on art and travel, an accomplished lecturer and children’s educator. She delivered her ideas in short staccato sentences, which could explain simply difficult ideas. In 1927 when Art in Australia devoted a complete edition to her paintings, prints and writings, she not only paid for additional colour illustrations, but also wrote an autobiographical essay with the provocative title “From Eggs to Electrolux”. However research by many art historians (which began in the early 1970s), has shown that what Preston wrote, did not always tally with fact. On her marriage certificate, for example, she reduced her age by some eight years, making herself slightly younger than her husband! Her autobiography was in essence an entertaining piece of fiction based on her life…

This is her “Fuchsias” from 1928. The print medium lends itself to her epigrammatic pictorial style and her bold, bright and mosaic-like colours. The flowers are jewel-like and look as though they have been cut precisely by a saw. The hues are harmonious and complement well the busy but well-composed arrangement. This is a piece of art full of joie de vivre and exuberance.

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...