Normally I crawl out of bed at about six, six-thirty, sloughing grave dirt and groaning. I hate waking up. I hate getting out of bed. I hate rushing around the morning trying to get ready for work.
This morning I bounded out of bed at five o’clock. It’s been years since I’ve seen five o’clock when the sun is rising, not setting. Continue reading “A Reason to Get Out of Bed”
I loved my week at Ty Newydd. I’m struggling to pin down exactly what about it I loved. It might have been finally being able to spend a week devoted to something I love and nothing else, like meeting in person for a week after years of a long distance relationship, snatching smiles and kisses whenever you can. Maybe it was spending a week with kind, thoughtful peers whose enthusiasm was infectious, and among whom I have to hope there are new friends. Perhaps it was just the food, sunshine and beautiful surroundings. Perhaps a combination of all of them; I don’t think it would have been the same with any of it missing.
Continue reading “Digesting a Week of Writing”
I’m reading Why read the classics? by Italo Calvino, and it’s good. His joy and enthusiasm for the books he’s talking about is palpable. I like Greek and Roman mythology anyway, but the chapter ‘Ovid and Universal Contiguity’ made me want to drop Calvino (possibly not his intended effect) and rush out and read Metamorphoses instead. Continue reading “Italo Calvino, Classics and Hafez”