anef

"Acedia" Noun, from Greek akedia, apathetic listlessness, a moral failing.

Crammed into a hot and tiny studio theatre over a hipster pub in the wilds of Clapham, I wasn't sure what to expect from the play, having signed up for it at the behest of tamaranth.  I was vaguely expecting something about pirates, but the piracy turns out to be a metaphor for war.

We are in a deliberately undefined place and time.  There are echoes of the Trojan War, echoes of the Balkans, echoes of the Middle East.  Our cast are all men, apart from the token woman, "Helen".  Token because she is what they are fighting about, and she has just been captured by "our" side, in a conflict that has been going on for a very long time.  The men range from the newest recruit, Jacob, through a number of older, more experienced soldiers, to their psychotic commander (Troy) who is clearly descended from Ajax, Agamemnon, Odysseus; the great heroes as described by Homer in their less exalted moments - looter, rapist, killer.

Is it saying anything new about war?  No.  These are the things that poets and playwrights (and journalists) have been saying about war for millennia.  But I thought the production was very strong.  In particular, being used to studio productions done by students, it was great to see a range of actors of all ages, who were fully committed to the drama. I thought the script was great, the dialogue clever and naturalistic, the scenario bleak but leavened by a lot of black humour.  It's the first play by Jay Taylor, and based on this I'll certainly look out for his work in the future

Michael and I were planning to go to a Baroque concert at Saffron Hall on Sunday evening. Unfortunately I have a cold and can't see myself getting through it without a coughing fit, which would not be a good thing.  If anyone would like to take the tickets I can send you the email - they need to be picked up at the concert hall.

Here are details of the concert:  https://saffronhall.com/calendar/the-english-concert/

Have spent some weeks telling myself that I should start swimming again, as I am doing basically no energetic exercise at the moment.  Finally got my act together to cycle over to Parkside this morning.  It is now under the control of some sort of social enterprise, and has been revamped with a "changing village" (not sure what this is but probably full of children).  Seems OK though I couldn't find any showers where you could actually strip off - only the poolside ones.  Pootled up and down the slow lane for half an hour, and now feel glowing with health and virtue.  Still redolent of chlorine, though - need a proper shower.

On a management course at Uni of Warwick. Slept badly and woke up at dawn. Below my window are raised beds of herbs and flowers. The sun is coming up. There are bees in the mullein and rabbits nibbling the sweet peas.

To the Junction last night to see Fred's House, a local band. We came in while the support act were on, and I immediately felt grumpy, as there were no seats free, due to the venue having taken out all the central seating and shut the gallery, which left a two row fringe of balcony seating, all occupied. My over 50 year old frame doesn't cope well with standing up for two hours. However at the break Michael managed to grab us a couple of seats (my hero!) and the evening improved dramatically.

We've seen Fred's House a couple of times in smaller venues, and their sound seems to have morphed from folk-rock to more of a 70's US-influenced sound. They've still got good melodies and harmonies, but there are fewer of the twiddly bits. "No, not Fleetwood Mac", I kept thinking. "Who do they remind me of?" The answer came at the end when for their last encore they launched into a storming version of Somebody to Love. We walked home singing and it's still going round in my head, mingling occasionally with strains from White Rabbit. Ah well, as they say, feed your head.

In January
Night falls early. Through soft dusk
The snow continues

I read 125 books this year.   While this seems quite a lot, I'm not sure that I've seen any films in the cinema, so all my spare time was spent reading.  My favourite books in various categories were (in order of reading)

Best fiction

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie - Americanah
Jenn Ashworth - The Friday Gospels
Elizabeth Wein - Codename Verity
Jane Smiley - Horse Heaven
Ellen Klages - White Sands Red Menace
Gillian Bradshaw - The Colour of Power
Hilary Mantel - Bring up the Bodies
Karen Joy Fowler - We are all Completely Beside Ourselves
Jodie Taylor - The Nothing Girl
Ernesto Mallo - Needle in a Haystack
Nicola Griffith - Hild
Sherwood Smith - Rondo Allegro


Best SFF

Jodie Taylor - Just one damned thing after another
Daniel Abraham - The Dragon's Path
S M Wheeler - Sea Change
Alan Garner - Boneland
Jess Richards - Cooking with Bones
Rachel Neumeier - Black Dog
Ann Leckie - Ancillary Justice
Sophia McDougall - Mars Evacuees
Helen Wecker - The Golem and the Djinni
Katherine Addison - The Goblin Emperor
Deborah Coates - Strange Country
Ann Leckie - Ancillary Sword
Naomi Novik - Crucible of Gold

Best non-fiction

Trevor Bryce - The Trojans and their Neighbours
Tracey Thorn - Bedsit Disco Queen
Nina Stibbe - Love, Nina
Judith Flanders - The Victorian House
Sarah Moss - Names for the Sea (Strangers in Iceland)
Nick Hunt - Walking the Woods and the Water

We spent yesterday at the law faculty listening to classicists being enthusiastic.  It was a huge amount of fun, as everybody had 20 minutes to talk about their latest book, or an aspect of their work, and definitely pitched at the general reader, rather than the academic.

Standouts included Jerry Toner, on How to Manage Your Slaves (notionally by Marcus Sidonius Falx, a Roman).  "I tried to get the author to come along to talk about his book but he was a bit dismissive.  He refused to come half way across the known world to talk to a bunch of Britunculi, without an eques or a senator amongst them."

Edith Hall, Harry Sidebottom and Natalie Haynes did a triple act which approached the status of stand up - Michael was giggling all the way through.

Michael Scott and Tom Holland were enthusiastic and engaging on Delphi and Herodotus respectively.  By then we had met up with S WINOLJ whom we know a little from fandom, and who is doing an OU classics degree.  S (who is female) and I engaged in a discussion of how ridiculously good-looking Michael Scott is, and how distracting it is when you're trying to listen to what he's saying. "Is the the one in the middle?" asked Michael.  "I can't see that he's good-looking".  Later we caught sight of him standing by the signing table.  "He's not even that tall," said Michael, in the way of someone making a point.  "I'm taller than him."

David Stuttard was dramatic and fascinating on famous Greeks, despite having quite a serious speech impediment.  He's written a lot on drama and I have made a mental note to look for his books on plays in the UL.

I bought a book (Twelve Voices from Greece and Rome), resisted many more that all looked fascinating and added another couple to my wish list, which is already full of Too Many Classics Books to Read.

...which probably everyone else knew already, but I didn't.  I particularly didn't realise how strong UKIP are in the East of England, which they have used as an example (scroll down to the table).

http://www.democraticaudit.com/?p=4636

For some years now I've been having a problem with one of my molars.  It's been sensitive to pressure,and increasingly to hot and cold. I changed dentists because my old one filled it twice and still couldn't fix it.  Jenny, my new dentist, took X-rays which were unrevealing and said, "Well, I can try to fill it again, or you can wait till it gets worse."  On the grounds that filling it again still might not work I decided to take the waiting option.

It got worse, then a bit fell off just before we went to Jordan last year.  I rang the dentist from the airport.  "Are you in pain?" asked the receptionist.  "No."  Then keep it clean and we'll see you when you get back."  I went round Jordan with a bottle of the most disgusting mouthwash I had ever tasted, which I used twice a day after brushing.

Anyway, when I got back Jenny was away on holiday, so her colleague Harold filled it.  Hurrah, I thought.  Now surely it will be fixed.  But it wasn't.  Although it was less sensitive, I could still feel it when I bit down on small hard things, like seeds and black pepper.

Then a few weeks ago another bit fell off.  "If this doesn't work we'll have to put a crown on it," said Jenny, as she filled it again.  It held until the Eastercon, when I noticed a large crack had formed on the inside face.  As it happened I had a hygienist appointment on Wednesday, so I asked her about it.  She took a look, consulted Harold, who said that it needed to be fixed as soon as possible.  So I made an appointment for two weeks' time, which is the earliest anyone could see me.

And now today, the bit where the crack was has fallen out.  It would be comic if it wasn't so annoying (and potentially painful).  So it's back to the mouthwash and keeping it clean.  How fortunate that I have half a bottle left after the Jordan episode.

I feel I should mention that over the years Jenny has done a lot of good work on my teeth and all the others have been fine.  It's just this one.  I think I'm going to take to drink.  Alcohol - that has an antiseptic effect, doesn't it?