Twice in the last three years or so, I have been to see performances of 'Rigoletto' which were desecrated by, for me, totally unnecessary nudity.
The first was the film of a live performance by the Royal Opera company. I had taken a friend who had never been to an opera before. I only wish we had left early because no amount of brilliant singing could take away the taste in our mouths. It had bare-breasted singers in the chorus, showed simulated sexual acts, including rape, and full-frontal male nudity. Had this been in the advertising material, we would have made the choice not to go, hence a sense of betrayal.
How can these brilliant singers prostitute their art, as it seems to me, by agreeing to perform in that way? Do highly reputable companies such as this not realise that they may seriously upset the senses and sensibilities of some (hopefully it's not just a few) of us by showing such explicit scenes. We don't need to see debauchery on stage to know it happened and happens, we have imagination for that. It ruined a night of glorious music and singing. Depicting it, in my view, is cheapened art.
The second performance was by the Ellen Kent company, whose productions I've seen many times before and found excellent. I thought I could trust them; not so, sadly. Life models (rather than singers) were used in the opening act but far more discreetly than in the Covent Garden production. The effect was disappointing rather than distressing. Could it be that when one company removes a barrier, it paves the way for others who may feel they have to follow suit in order to compete?
I truly believe that 'Nakedness', in a physical and spiritual sense, should be a gift bestowed by one person upon another, in a totally private situation, both of whom are inextricably joined to each other by intimate love.
Here, I would recommend one of Robert Graves brilliant poems, "The Naked and the Nude". He says what I feel - but with humour! I know it's lacking in my 'rant' but this issue is something which really upsets me, feeling as I do that it undermines what should be both the beauty of art and the beauty of physical love, the latter, requiring the privacy which taste and decency and etiquette used to deem appropriate. It debases the currency of what should be the highest expression of love between two people. (I'll shut up now I've had my say.)
PS The poem begins:
"For me, the naked and the nude
(By lexicographers construed .." (Don't you just love that rhyme!)
and ends:
"By Gorgons with long whips pursued,
How naked go the sometimes nude!" (")
Sunday, 24 January 2016
On sorting things out
I wrote this some time ago and am now trying to figure out what I meant.
Your House (your life?)
You have to sweep it clean
and keep it clean!
I think I meant that we can never assume that our houses/lives are definitively sorted even when we've had a classic clean up and think,"That's it now, that's the definitive version. I'll never need to sort that again; I'll be able to keep it just so!!"
I usually find I manage that for a while and then, oh so gradually, it slides back into the mire.
Once the slide has started, it's downhill all the way because it needs such a massive effort to turn the tide. (A few mixed metaphors there; sorry!)
Having written about messiness quite a few times, I think it's probably pretty obvious that this is the story of my life and I hope I'm not too alone in this because it would be a lonely situation!
Your House (your life?)
You have to sweep it clean
and keep it clean!
I think I meant that we can never assume that our houses/lives are definitively sorted even when we've had a classic clean up and think,"That's it now, that's the definitive version. I'll never need to sort that again; I'll be able to keep it just so!!"
I usually find I manage that for a while and then, oh so gradually, it slides back into the mire.
Once the slide has started, it's downhill all the way because it needs such a massive effort to turn the tide. (A few mixed metaphors there; sorry!)
Having written about messiness quite a few times, I think it's probably pretty obvious that this is the story of my life and I hope I'm not too alone in this because it would be a lonely situation!
Monday, 11 January 2016
On putting away the Christmas crib
This morning, it finally came down! Usually, this is done in our house on the 6th, the feast of the Epiphany, but Father happened to remind us that the Christmas season goes on until the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which was yesterday.
When I explained to Sue, who HELPS us with the cleaning (I stress 'helps' as I wouldn't want anyone to think that we sit here doing nothing and it IS a very big house), that the poor old kings had only arrived IN the crib itself last Wednesday so I had decided to give them a longer stint in the stable, she laughed at the idea of the 'poor old kings'. (Until the Wednesday, they'd been gradually approaching along the shelf as the days went by.)
So the annual effort began. The crib itself was purchased by my mother from our church when son no1 was born, so quite some time ago!! It was hand-made in Austria and has to be fitted together each year and IT'S a NIGHTMARE! Each year I have to work out again which of the eight wooden pieces goes where, as I erect it on the base, put the straw (courtesy of our green-grocer) in the stable, place the (very unstable) figures inside and gingerly transport it to the shelf where it resides throughout the Christmas period. It falls down repeatedly and requires me to start all over again, generally driving me mad.
So guess what, after all these years, I finally decided to number each piece as I dismantled it and mark left and right fences etc. Why on earth did it take me so long to come up with such a simple and OBVIOUS device!? It either shows I'm completely daft or a slow learner - or- it gives hope that it's never too late to come up with a good idea.
When I explained to Sue, who HELPS us with the cleaning (I stress 'helps' as I wouldn't want anyone to think that we sit here doing nothing and it IS a very big house), that the poor old kings had only arrived IN the crib itself last Wednesday so I had decided to give them a longer stint in the stable, she laughed at the idea of the 'poor old kings'. (Until the Wednesday, they'd been gradually approaching along the shelf as the days went by.)
So the annual effort began. The crib itself was purchased by my mother from our church when son no1 was born, so quite some time ago!! It was hand-made in Austria and has to be fitted together each year and IT'S a NIGHTMARE! Each year I have to work out again which of the eight wooden pieces goes where, as I erect it on the base, put the straw (courtesy of our green-grocer) in the stable, place the (very unstable) figures inside and gingerly transport it to the shelf where it resides throughout the Christmas period. It falls down repeatedly and requires me to start all over again, generally driving me mad.
So guess what, after all these years, I finally decided to number each piece as I dismantled it and mark left and right fences etc. Why on earth did it take me so long to come up with such a simple and OBVIOUS device!? It either shows I'm completely daft or a slow learner - or- it gives hope that it's never too late to come up with a good idea.
Tuesday, 29 December 2015
About the last episode of Downton
Husband and I sat and watched our recording of the very last episode of Downton, minus the adverts, on Sunday evening.
What a masterpiece of knots unravelled and loose ends tied up, either in the 'there and then' or, if not, in the suggestion of happy endings to come. Just what you want from Christmas television; well, what I want anyway and is that so terrible! The last series was terrific too, in my estimation, after, I felt, some of the over-melodramatic scenes of former episodes.
Reading some snooty reviews in our otherwise excellent Catholic Herald magazine, I feel that I want to tell those critics that they've entirely missed the point of Downton. It was not, essentially, an historical drama, it wasn't about chronological accuracy or exactitude. It was about people, their lives, their relationships, their stories.
Its characterisations have been excellent and the acting superb. The photography, the settings, the world which has been created for us on a Sunday evening, have lifted us into another life, one which has brought real interest and delight. It will be sadly missed.
Thank goodness that we had this Christmas special to relish, to cherish the resolutions and to share in the satisfaction of a story well-told and well ended.
What a masterpiece of knots unravelled and loose ends tied up, either in the 'there and then' or, if not, in the suggestion of happy endings to come. Just what you want from Christmas television; well, what I want anyway and is that so terrible! The last series was terrific too, in my estimation, after, I felt, some of the over-melodramatic scenes of former episodes.
Reading some snooty reviews in our otherwise excellent Catholic Herald magazine, I feel that I want to tell those critics that they've entirely missed the point of Downton. It was not, essentially, an historical drama, it wasn't about chronological accuracy or exactitude. It was about people, their lives, their relationships, their stories.
Its characterisations have been excellent and the acting superb. The photography, the settings, the world which has been created for us on a Sunday evening, have lifted us into another life, one which has brought real interest and delight. It will be sadly missed.
Thank goodness that we had this Christmas special to relish, to cherish the resolutions and to share in the satisfaction of a story well-told and well ended.
Wednesday, 16 December 2015
About 'Mary's Meals' (Take 2)
Two days ago, at three minutes to midnight, I finished reading a book which tells the story of the amazing charity named above. The book is called ''The Shed That Fed a Million Children''.
It was easy to read in one sense but very hard in others, dealing as it does with such sad stories of poverty and hunger in terribly difficult situations.
There is tremendous hope in the book though, as ways of really making a difference in the lives of so many have evolved from the efforts of all the dedicated people involved.
If you have a moment, perhaps you could check it out on-line and maybe you might decide to become one of the countless number of people who have decided to help to feed the hungry children of our world.
Husband and I had recently decided to support this charity with a monthly donation. Now I discover that my housekeeping money has stretched to feed not just 20 plus children a year but 40 plus!! How lovely to have increased my extended family as I shall now think of them.
The children have their meals in school, so bodies AND minds are fed. As a Mum, Gran and retired teacher, there is something especially pleasing to me in that.
Postscript
It was easy to read in one sense but very hard in others, dealing as it does with such sad stories of poverty and hunger in terribly difficult situations.
There is tremendous hope in the book though, as ways of really making a difference in the lives of so many have evolved from the efforts of all the dedicated people involved.
If you have a moment, perhaps you could check it out on-line and maybe you might decide to become one of the countless number of people who have decided to help to feed the hungry children of our world.
- It costs £12. 20 to feed a child for a year. (I just checked on google and this is crossed out and now reads 'two children').
- 93p of every £1 donated goes directly to aid.
Husband and I had recently decided to support this charity with a monthly donation. Now I discover that my housekeeping money has stretched to feed not just 20 plus children a year but 40 plus!! How lovely to have increased my extended family as I shall now think of them.
The children have their meals in school, so bodies AND minds are fed. As a Mum, Gran and retired teacher, there is something especially pleasing to me in that.
Postscript
- I haven't mentioned the number of children our donations are feeding in order to boast, because, honestly, the amount isn't mega-bucks; it's only £25 a month, so less than £1 a day and a lot less than it costs us to feed husband, son-at-home and me.
- I've figured out the crossing out of one child to two children! The government is doubling any contribution to this charity for one month up until the 28th of this month. So this means the 40 children are just for December but that's good anyway.
Sunday, 22 November 2015
About giving and giving in
Let us learn to give
but not to give in.
This should probably read
'Let us learn when it is right to give, and then, give.'
and 'Let us learn when it is right not to give in, and then, not give in.'
but, of course, it's not so succinct (or poetic)!
I add this because there are times when it is right not to give
and, conversely, times when it is right to give in (or so husband says, anyway!)
but not to give in.
This should probably read
'Let us learn when it is right to give, and then, give.'
and 'Let us learn when it is right not to give in, and then, not give in.'
but, of course, it's not so succinct (or poetic)!
I add this because there are times when it is right not to give
and, conversely, times when it is right to give in (or so husband says, anyway!)
About realising our own worth
We are not extras but main players
in the film of our lives.
In our own lives,
we will always be a part of the team.
There is no substitute's bench.
I realise that this may read as being somewhat egocentric, but my purpose in writing it is to address the problem that people like me may have of always feeling that everyone else is more important than we are, or that we won't be picked for the team, that there will always be someone who is better than we are, that other people's ways of doing something are more likely to be right than ours; (or as I have put it before, in my case, forever self-doubting, looking for affirmation, being a pain in the neck!!).
If you are a bit like that, I hope the words above may help.
in the film of our lives.
In our own lives,
we will always be a part of the team.
There is no substitute's bench.
I realise that this may read as being somewhat egocentric, but my purpose in writing it is to address the problem that people like me may have of always feeling that everyone else is more important than we are, or that we won't be picked for the team, that there will always be someone who is better than we are, that other people's ways of doing something are more likely to be right than ours; (or as I have put it before, in my case, forever self-doubting, looking for affirmation, being a pain in the neck!!).
If you are a bit like that, I hope the words above may help.
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