(no subject)
Tuesday, December 23rd, 2014 12:02 pmGuardian has got rid of coloured boxes, at least for today. Am pleased.
Little bento place has opened up Christie St. Bought little chicken bento there today. True Nihon no aji/ taste of Japan. Happy sigh.
Reading the next Tara French, all antsy 'this cannot end well.' Am speed-reading so as to get through the not ending well bit asap.
By way of balance, am also reading Medieval women : a social history of women in England, 450-1500 on a random rec, and finished the chapters on Anglo-Saxon graveyards and Anglo-Saxon abbesses last night. Had not realized how thoroughly my concept of early England had incorporated-- not exactly the memories, but the gestalt-- of the early 70s, as experienced by me in my sheltered Catholic fashion. But memories are there too-- descriptions of women's grave goods brought vivid flashbacks to St Michael's College Coop, the lounge at SMC, where I spent reading week of '72 writing a paper on Widsith; the names on the map of 7thC England took me to London that summer, peering at the Lewis chessmen; and in between are unplaceable impressions of grey skies and the smell of snow melting on the back campus and all those things half-noticed by someone who walks everywhere, because in those days I didn't bike. (That may be why Toronto no longer seems the Toronto of old: the sense impressions are different.) It's a weird sensation: forty years ago seems as distant and gone as the Anglo-Saxons themselves, but seems also as if the two once existed simultaneously.
Little bento place has opened up Christie St. Bought little chicken bento there today. True Nihon no aji/ taste of Japan. Happy sigh.
Reading the next Tara French, all antsy 'this cannot end well.' Am speed-reading so as to get through the not ending well bit asap.
By way of balance, am also reading Medieval women : a social history of women in England, 450-1500 on a random rec, and finished the chapters on Anglo-Saxon graveyards and Anglo-Saxon abbesses last night. Had not realized how thoroughly my concept of early England had incorporated-- not exactly the memories, but the gestalt-- of the early 70s, as experienced by me in my sheltered Catholic fashion. But memories are there too-- descriptions of women's grave goods brought vivid flashbacks to St Michael's College Coop, the lounge at SMC, where I spent reading week of '72 writing a paper on Widsith; the names on the map of 7thC England took me to London that summer, peering at the Lewis chessmen; and in between are unplaceable impressions of grey skies and the smell of snow melting on the back campus and all those things half-noticed by someone who walks everywhere, because in those days I didn't bike. (That may be why Toronto no longer seems the Toronto of old: the sense impressions are different.) It's a weird sensation: forty years ago seems as distant and gone as the Anglo-Saxons themselves, but seems also as if the two once existed simultaneously.
