I really think our culture would benefit from celebrating Halloween properly. Not all this plastic pumpkin crap but I mean a festival of darkness for the grown-ups like the Day of The Dead or the Venice Carnival, where we all get dressed up, preferably masked and explore the side of us we usually keep under the bed.
In Whitby we've just had Goth weekend. Currently the town is swarming with folk of all ages (about sixteen to sixty-five), some in full Victoriana, others in rubber, PVC and leather, most men and women wearing some sort of corset.
I do think it is notable that the Goth movement only really sustains itself in rather repressed teutonic cultures like our own, Germany and Scandinavia. Cultures where we actually have something we keep under the bed. I like the Goths a lot. I don't know any other subcultures that can take over a small Northen seaside resort for two weekends a year without such as a murmur of local opposition. Plus some of them are hot.
The people to whom Halloween or Samhain really belongs are folks like Marit over at Baba Yaga's Hut who has carved the most beautiful jack o' lantern I have ever beheld. She also offers advice on Scrying, whatever that is. Marit is a great artist you ought to check out.
As for myself, the only ‘supernatural’ phenomenon I am forced to entertain is the idea of some sort of psychic communication between us. There have been some rigorous experiments that seem to suggest that this exists – not in the sense that you and I could communicate through thought alone, but that sometimes it is possible to transmit information, particularly emotional information, between ourselves. I mean we are well aware about sorts of energy which we can’t see, hear or feel; radio waves, radiation etc. So despite my otherwise materialist worldview, I don’t think it is beyond the realms of possibility that there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Most people have many examples of when they happened to feel a sudden urge to contact someone at some random yet subsequently crucial moment. I have loads of such incidents, especially involving my family and closest friends. The most profound one within our family was when we were quite small and one weekend my Dad decided to visit my grandparents by himself. At this time, we saw a great deal of my grandparents and Andrew who was living with them at the time. We usually walked round there together, Dad never went by himself, but today he decided to do this and to go by car. He didn’t bother phoning before he went either, which my Mum thought very odd behaviour.
When he turned into their road, he was greeted with the sight of my granddad, his hair and shirt sticky with blood, standing in front of his car, my uncle Andrew behind the wheel. Andrew’s learning difficulties were so profound that it seems unlikely that he would have been able to make the car go forward, but if he had, he almost certainly wouldn’t have been able to stop it (if in this disturbed state it would actually occur to him to do so). My Dad managed to intervene, get Andrew out of the car somehow. I think this episode began one of Andrew’s periods under section. As I have explained before, the medication Andrew took for epilepsy and other medical conditions would send him rather loopy at times. He was no worse than a stroppy child, only he was the size of a man and as such became an unwitting danger to other people. My Granddad wasn’t badly hurt, only it was a scalp wound so had bled profusely. However, without my Dad turning up on this random visit, it could have been a lot worse.
As for ghosts, well almost all ‘hauntings’ are supposed to be connected to fairly dramatic events. It occurs to me that if there is some form of transmittable emotional energy as I describe, then there is no reason why these things can’t leave their mark on a place – rather like radiation. Souls haven’t returned to haunt a place, only the place remains ‘charged’ with what happened there.
However my most vivid and inexplicable first-hand ‘ghostly’ incident doesn’t really comply with such a theory. It happened one Sunday morning when Mum and I were walking to my other grandparent’s house. We had just begun to worry about my Grandad Wellfare’s failing health. Both my mother and I were very close to Granddad.
The people who lived on the end of our road were Catholics and often had coffee mornings and other meetings round at their house, so there were often a number of cars parked near the end of the road. Today I noticed that there was a very old fashioned looking car parked really close to the corner of the road – dangerously so really. I don’t know much about old cars, but it was very much the shape of a black cab. And it was black, but it wasn’t a taxi. In the passenger seat there sat a woman in late middle age. She was dressed in black, but in a quite old-fashioned formal way with a hat, and a lacey white color. As we passed, she smiled very broadly and waved, which I didn’t think much of because my Mum was always bumping into people she knew and I didn’t. I smiled back and when we were round the corner and a little way up the road I asked, “So who was that?”
“You didn’t see her too?” Mum said in surprise.
“The lady in the car, right?”
“Oh. That was my Grandma Wellfare.”
I don’t need to tell you that my great Grandmother had been dead for some time at this point. I was then sworn to secrecy on the matter, which I guess she’d probably let me off by now. What followed was a very painful period for us all; my Granddad had pancreatic cancer which carried him away within the space of a few months (an extremely santitised version of events). Yeah, I know. Well it wouldn’t be a spooky story if I included the rational explanation.
Now for some real horror, today I have been revisiting The Kick Inside by Kate Bush and singing along. Ooh, let me grab it, let me gra-a-a-ab your soul away-ay-ay...
One crap thing about being chronically ill is that nobody ever sends you a Get Well Soon card, even when you're much worse than usual. So I thought I would send out my Get Well Soon wishes to everyone who is having a hard time with their health just now. Get Well Soon everybody!
Special mentions to the following ailing blogpals:
Marmite Boy has been having a great deal of trouble with his sleep, fatigue and anxiety. Good news is that preliminary tests suggest he is still alive. Another thing on his side is that Marmite is very high in B vitamins - as I am sure every malnourished vegetarian knows. Even so, he has not been having a good time of it recently and I'm sure we all hope they get the bottom of the matter and that Marmiet sees some improvement very soon.
I don't know what Vaughan looks like, but I know he shares his birthday and his literary genius with the great Raymond Chandler (and almost certainly smokes a pipe) so thus he shall be represented. Vaughan is a very talented writer, but he is perhaps unlikely to produce lines the like of "She gave me a smile I could feel in my hip pocket." or "It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained-glass window." However, Raymond Chandler also wrote, "The more you reason, the less you create." which is perhaps more poignant. Perhaps.
I don't know what Kerry looks like, but I know she has red hair and thus is represented by Rita Hayworth. Kerry has had a really rough year, her mobility having dramatically deteriorated, experiencing new levels of agony, increasingly pessimistic prognoses, having to manage a wheelchair for the first time whilst, often quite literally, juggling two very small children. Plus having to deal with a great amount of aggravation with doctors and nurses, both those treating her and those working alongside her. Kerry was last seen in the blogsphere at the beginning of the month. Hope things get easier soon.
I don't know what w1ldchild looks like but she is a Blade (Sheffield United supporter). Now there was another Blade who was a vampire-slayer. Like Buffy. So for our purposes w1ldchild shall be represented by Sarah Michelle Gellar. You know it makes sense. W1ldchild has been having a lot of difficulty lately with her meds, depression and pain. Hope that everything stabilises real soon.
Adrian has earned temporary crip status having had an ear infection and thus has had impaired hearing since the end of his and my sister's honeymoon in August (although this picture suggests that the problem began when he was very very small indeed, no bigger than my thumb). This may have its advantages, but is no laughing matter for a professional musician, so we hope he gets better soon. Give that man a blue badge! But aren't I going to have cute nieces and nephews? I can't wait <----- subtle hint
Other people who desserve a mention are Timmargh who has the least attractive and perhaps most painful foot in Christendom, Eliza who we haven't heard much from since she last got screwed and Damon who has had months of discomfort with gout. But also a big Get Well Soon to everyone who just happens to be having a rough day today.
Like Timmargh, I have got new headphones. Unlike Timmargh, I don't know much about them, I just ordered the ones from Argos that looked most like my old ones that got broken. Like Timmargh, I tested them with Paranoid Android by Radiohead. My other two reference songs were Voodoo Child (slight return) by Jimi Hendrix and then the entirity of Carmina Burana performed by the bunch of Slovakians (I dunno, it's a Naxos recording).
I also ordered a toilet seat, which is not as nearly as exciting as the one we had to send back that had the term "toilet seat" in several different languages on the box. Siège de toilette, asiento del tocador and sede della toletta all sound like either something you'd want to eat or someone you'd want to go to bed with. I wanted one of those clear plastic seats with barbed wire embedded in it, but [...] insisted we go for a boring wood one. There is an entire shop dedicated to Fun Loo Seats, but there's all extremely expensive.
Today has been a better day for me although I'm not sure what I did with it. The weather is looking grim. The sky is the colour of flint, except for a strip of creamy white around the horizon. The cloud is also very low in the sky. What do you reckon to the chances of rain?
Look up everyone! All the hours I spend staring at the sky doing nothing are paying off today as hundreds of birds have chosen today to migrate south. I don't know what sort of birds they are because they're just vaguely geometric shapes in the sky. But lots have gone over. So if you live south of me, look up!
People say The Wrong Thing a lot when attempting to make me - or perhaps themselves - feel better. Look on the bright side; at least you don’t have cancer. It's probably just this time of year. We all have our cross to bare. They're bound to find a cure for it soon. You’ve got your whole life in front of you.
So today I got to talk to my friend Pete. As in Whitby Pete not Mad Pete Mentalas - although this Pete is also a proud member of the great unhinged. He lives in Whitby, but I haven’t been able to see him since the end of August. We rarely talk on the phone because he doesn’t like phones and usually we can get together at least every couple of weeks and exchange e-mails in the meantime. However, today we did talk and he came up with the best response I have ever received about my health;
Pete: You’ve really been through the mill this past couple of months, haven’t you?
Goldfish: I suppose I have rather.
Pete: You poor dear. Well, I suppose you must try to look on the bright side. After all, if you were a horse, they would have had you shot.
Having mentioned the Pete down South, he sent me the greatest Van Morrison link last week which I meant to pass onto your good selves I suppose you have to know and love Van Morrison (for to know him is to love him) to appreciate it, but if you do check this out. I recommend Ringworm in particular.
You're going to hate me for this but I have been very bored and Lady Bracknell, despite holding an account with Mssrs. Scrooge & Marley, started it. I have begun my Christmas shopping and here are my top ten Christmas gift suggestions (at least for this week).
If you have to buy soap for your Granny buy Karma from Lush for the admittedly extortionate price of £2.75 for 100g (that's me admitting it, not them). Totally cruelty-freem full of natural goodness and in this case suitable for vegans, this is the most delicious smelling soap in the whole wide world. They have loads of other groovy, gorgeously scented stuff. Oh and black toothpaste. Very dear though.
Draw me a sheep! If you are going to give a book as a gift, your best bet is The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry at £4.79 (or Le Petit Prince depending on your loved-one’s command of the French Language). It may be a little twee, but it is unchallenging, short, suitable for all ages and genders and is quite quite beautiful. If you have not read it yourself, buy two copies. In fact, buy several copies and hand them out to strangers on public transport.
If you are going to give a CD as a gift I suggest Tea For The Tillerman by Cat Stevens for £4.99 on a similar principle. It is a fantastic album, one of the best ever, but is totally inoffensive to almost all musical tastes. You may remember it was listed as number two in My Top Twenty Albums of All Time and although that list may have changed dynamically since April, Tillerman is still way up there.
Are you friends with a Science Fiction fan? Do you find the pressures of being his or her only friend a little too much to shoulder? Then what a greater gift could you give than everything they need to double the size of their social circle? Mr Potatohead Stormtrooper is cheap at the price of £9.94.
There are no small yappy dogs among my circle of friends but if there were, I would surely ensure that they were kept both warm and stylish this winter with this cuter than cute jumper from Accessorize at £10. They have a lot of cute stuff there - check out the Christmas decorations for the stripey camel as well.
Do you have a family member who is a brass player? Is by any chance their surname Kelly? If so, what better than an acrylic mouthpiece from Kelly's Mouthpieces for between 19 and 34 dollar (£10-20) depending on your instrument. From my cornet-playing days (make that minutes) I know that metal mouthpieces are cold and generally rubbish. Acrylic is of course a superior material, plus these mouthpieces are available in a variety of transparent and solid colours – even glow-in-the-dark!
This is a very useful item, but not just as a Cookery Book Stand. At just £13 it would also be indespensible as a way of reading open textbooks or other heavy documents whilst keeping one's hands free (for example whilst typing essays or supporting oneself in a reclining position). I wish that I had one of these when I was a student. This one is particularly attractive and is a Fair Trade item. Do buy Fair Trade wherever possible. Please.
If you want to buy your friends and family really useful presents you need to get over to 7 Day Shop where you can buy anything; ink cartridges, blank CDs, memory cards, camera bits. Stuff like 17m x 35mm of Ilford HP5 400 film for just £14.95. But you heathens just wouldn't understand that sort of thing, would you? Adrian understands.
Teenager to buy for? No idea what young people are into these days? Thinking of given them money again? Well don't! As anyone knows, teenagers care for nothing more than the Third World. Being universally anti-materialist, they are likely to spit on your gift of money and call you a capitalist pig. Or at the very least, they won’t write you a Thank You note (have they ever?). So spend whatever funds you were budgeting for them on resources for people less fortunate than themselves at Oxfam Unwrapped. This goat will set you back £24 but gifts start from £6 (for 100 school dinners... presumably Jamie Oliver wasn't involved).
And finally... everybody needs a clockwork penguin. It's only £1.25. Hawkin's Bazaar is a fabulous shop. You can get all sorts of little bits and bobs and funny things. Oh go and have a look yourself. It's ace.
Today we had a grand adventure! It was really the last available window of opportunity to go and see the Picasso & Matisse Exhibition at Nunnington Hall so we went. We first planned to go at the beginning of September when it started, but we have had to postpone and postpone again up until today. This morning I was rather crap but when I eventually came round I felt brighter than I had since the beginning of last week. Then today I finally got a reply from my e-mailed request for information and learnt that the Exhibition was on the top floor. Then [...] fell asleep after lunch so it wasn't looking hopeful. However, he woke up a bit and we decided to go for it anyway, although this delay meant we didn't arrive until a quarter past four and they close up at five.
The trip there was rather fantastic. The brilliant purple has all but gone out of the heather but now the moor is like the hide of some enormous animal, with patches of russet where the purple was and patches of tawny where the green was. And then there's the trees of course... It was a fairly sunny afternoon and everything looked glorious. I always think that if I should ever start believing in God again it will happen in the autumn, because you really couldn't design it more beautifully; the way that bits of the trees change colour at different rates and the red and golden colours that different trees turn are more various (and yet miraculously co-ordinating) than all the greens of summer. Plus all the textures; softness and roughness and brittleness. And this at a time when everything is dying.
Anyway, the National Trust staff were excellent. The National Trust ladies had a long involved discussion about which flight of stairs we ought take. Somebody joined us to make the journey up the stairs with a chair (a normal chair, not the wheelchair). I managed okay, a flight at a time with rests in between, I can do that just about. We then had fun moving said chair from vantage point to vantage point around the exhibition.
The Exhibition (of lithographs and etchings) was just great. It might not have been all that good, but I was really terribly excited to be there, to be out, to be doing something I had wanted to do and had pretty much given up on doing. I was surprised to find the Matisse more powerful than the Picasso, although I much prefer Picasso’s actual paintings over Matisse's. There is equal doses of humour and anxiety in Picasso’s work and as a woman, I kind of pity his confusion. He seems to suffer for it.
Matisse drew some beautiful women, but women as human beings. Beautiful, sensual, stylised human beings, but human beings nevertheless. But some of the lithograph portraits in this exhibition, however simplistic, were alive. It really was as if the energy of these people – Matisse and his subjects - was just radiating from the walls. I am not very articulate on the subject of art so I’m going to shut up now.
In other news I am teething. I assumed, as you would in my advanced years, that I had finished growing teeth long ago. But no, I've got another one coming up now and it's quite irritating. Hopefully it will sort itself out as I don't have a dentist.
Probably back into the shit tomorrow, but today I am okay and I got to see this exhibition which I imagine will keep me buzzing for some time.
In Whitby we've just had Goth weekend. Currently the town is swarming with folk of all ages (about sixteen to sixty-five), some in full Victoriana, others in rubber, PVC and leather, most men and women wearing some sort of corset. 
