though personally I am betting that there was one. The speaker is a character in Crime and Punishment, after all.
Perhaps the novel’s dramatic and emotional moments were compressed into undue proximity by the abridgement; I will only remark that the characters seemed to have a disproportionate quota of spasms, fits, convulsions, fevers, catatonic attacks, tremblings and faints, which had an unfortunate effect on one reader at least.
Outside the wind is picking up again; gusting to force 8, perhaps 9. 2018 coming in with a roar, and I hope we all keep our roofs on.
On a quiet day I indulged in the traditional holiday jigsaw:
This allowed me to listen to the non-traditional grim audiobook. Complicated, and it would have made more sense if I had put a map in front of me, but then I would have had to listen properly. A story so appalling can sometimes only be taken in with half an ear.
Last night we walked across the Square, emptied of its Christmas market, the illuminated trees looking like the trees which gave James Thurber’s great uncle chestnut blight, only rather more festive.
The cathedral’s midnight service accommodated about a thousand, most of whom had colds. It was … tasteful. Won’t bother with that one again then. I miss the raw edges of home grown celebrations.
The nearests and dearests have enabled me to see what music looks like – in one format, which is 33 rpm. Amazing!
Tree decorating and other decorating in full flow. Taken with these, like little jewelled gooseberries.
May we rejoice as much as circumstances allow.
I have left the snowflakes behind, supplied the mice in the attic with a treacherous Christmas dinner (O please not rats), and may or may not have locked the back door. The shops in Salisbury are much better than those at home, but there are ways of not shopping, thus:
First go to the local library to look at the Kathe Kollwitz exhibition, and look very carefully at her looking very carefully at herself.
Then go to St Thomas’ and contemplate the Doom painting.
After this, proceed through the darkening crowded streets and brightly lighted shops, solitary, disorientated, and immune to temptation, and purchase one spoon.
Returning, I finished reading a book which in some places became a time machine
and now I have to choose the next title from a selection. One for night and one for day.
an infallible sign that Christmas is nigh (in case you hadn’t noticed).
I’ve not made these for years. Turns out stained glass biscuits are still, as always, a curse, because splinters of chopped sweet scoot out from under the knife and travel all over the kitchen.
Oh well…it was due for a mop anyway.
and down and up and to and fro and back and forward – hunting the elusive gift. At last I crossly gave up.
Once home there was indulgence: what one might call a comfy read, though some of the content was far from comfy, given the grim history of gem mining in all the world’s continents.
The sun set over a quiet sea
and then a 360° degree sunset. From the back
from the front
and straight up to the zenith.
Later I glued tiny angel pegs and dried oranges and deep grey card and leaves,
while listening to Oliver Twist – today’s bargain from the charity shop, somewhat hammered on the outside and missing disc 1 of Pride and Prejudice – but I could be said to be familiar with those chapters anyway 🙂
I’ll go on to something really festive to help me get through the pre-Christmas housework. Maybe Crime and Punishment?
(and it is quite a few thousand by now) each year I find a handful that seem completely unlike anything I’ve cut before, as they twirl quietly in pools of light on the ceiling.