Mr Jeffries has a similar problem to Mr Jeffrey, only where he does apology with angst, I tend to mix indifference with irritability.
I gave a foreign woman a little money today, with a
suggestion she buy herself a hot drink.
‘Coffee!’ she said, smiling expectantly.
‘Yeah, coffee,’ I replied, smiling indulgently. Or maybe it
was kindly. It isn’t easy to tell the difference.
‘Mary Chreest-maas,’ she continued, shaking my hand with her
first two fingers while cradling the pound coins to her palm with the others.
I expected her to call me Mr 'Orrance, but she didn’t.
There, that broke the ice after four days of blog
inactivity. I seem to be falling into the winter blues pit a lot this year,
only this time it comes with several reasons to feel anxious and a sudden lack
of faith in any prospect of a future. And it doesn’t help seeing a foreign
person who’s come to the fair shores of Old England in search of a better life,
only to spend all her time standing in the freezing cold trying to sell copies
of The Big Issue to comfortably off conservative types who might occasionally
buy one purely out of a sense of patronage.
Still, after a very cold, foggy night last night, the trees
and hedgerows were clothed in a lace mantle of white hoar frost all day today.
It looked pretty, although I doubt the birds saw it that way.
And I’m enjoying Jane
Eyre. She and Mr Rochester remind me of two people I know.
14 comments:
Glad you're back, we thought perhaps that you had decided to visit Wisconsin. Not a good time of year for that, though.
Mrs. NY
Wisconsin? Wisconsin is one of those states that doesn't leap off the page with an obvious identity - except to imagine that it's pretty cold in the winter.
The wish list of states to visit is small, but includes New York, especially NYC where live several good people whose acquaintance I should be glad to make. I went through a phase of hating it, you know. It took somebody away from me, but these things first ameliorate and then turn completely as the bigger picture emerges.
Thank you, Mrs NY. You're one of the reasons I couldn't stay away for ever.
Glad to see you back, sir.
Also glad to hear you're enjoying Jane Eyre. Is it a good thing that Jane and Rochester remind you of some folks you know? I'd be inclined to think... no, probably not...?
I almost bought a copy of Agnes Grey the other day, but quickly vetoed it. These days, I seem to be very discriminating on whether or not I "need" something. Most don't make the cut.
Thank you, Sara.
Whether it's a good thing or not remains to be discovered. I'm only just up to the point where Jane saves Mr R from the pyrotechnic proclivities of his mad missus (except I'm not supposed to know who the culprit was yet. I saw a TV version when I was a kid, and mad Mrs R frightened the life out of me. Whether she played on an existing fear of mad women, or whether the experience was its genesis, I doubt I'll ever know.)
So, anyway, Mr R reminds me of me just a bit (although I no longer have 'lean flanks,' sad to say,) and young Jane reminds me of somebody I know. I've also been through the experience of living with a mad woman - twice - although neither ever tried to set the bed alight with me in it. At least, not literally.
And you're the second person in under 24 hours who has referred to reading matter in terms of 'need.'
I suppose I just asked because something about their relationship bothers me. Or maybe it's just Jane... hmm. Still, I'll wait to discuss it, because I don't want to ruin what's to come for you.
Reading material should never be referred to in terms of 'need.' Then again, when you've got a very sizeable to-read stack of books next to your bed, you've got to exercise some control.
The only thing that's bothering me a little so far is that Mr R bites his lip rather too often. I do hope this isn't going to become another 'we are in the hands of God' (Dracula) or 'I did not say anything' (Rebecca.)
I've always had an aversion to going to bed, just as I have an aversion to taking a bath and going to school/work. They're all things I was made to do as a kid, and I hate being made to do anything. That's why there are no books in my bedroom. I go to bed when I'm either too tired or inebriated to stay up any longer, or when it's necessary to get there before the sky lightens in the east.
Yes, places can have bad associations. I, for one, hope I never have to travel south of the Mason-Dixon line again. And as for Wisconsin, I thought that's where English gentlemen go to meet gorgeous american models, who just happen to be hanging around divey bars playing darts.
Mrs NY
Mrs NY, for a moment there I thought you were completely barking and about to join the club. But now I realise that the error is all mine. This is about Colin and Wisconsin - a neat and ironic joke that I missed. I also missed the fact that the gorgeous American model was playing darts, which I claim to be excusable since the playing of darts in Britain is generally associated with the parallel activity of converting brain cells into stomach fat.
Hey, ho.
By the way, I went to New Orleans once and liked it.
You don't play the piano, do you?
Mrs. NY is an excellent pianist and has seen every TV/film version of "Jane Eyre" ever made.
Aha...
In that case I second the 'excellent,' Miss Mad, having heard her play right up to the BONG (and beyond.) I declined to comment because I seem to recall that the room was becoming a little crowded with the makings of a monstrous regiment. Oh, and I was depressed at the time as well.
Thank you JJ. Yes, and whilst I play the piano my daughter films me surreptitiously and then posts it on her blog.
Best film version of Jane Eyre-1983 with Timothy Dalton as Rochester.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tEU93rGkmo&list=PLD3C8C2599B3161E2&index=57
The playing of darts in America is also associated with converting brain cells into stomach fat.
Never been to New Orleans (and it's south of the M-D line) but glad you liked it.
And hang in there. The solstice will be here soon.
Mrs NY
But Mrs NY, Mr Rochester is supposed to be barrel-chested and have a face like the back end of a bus (or even a dog's bum with a hat on, as Spike Milligan described his mother-in-law.) Wasn't Timothy Dalton all lean and pretty in 1983?
New Orleans has some nice architecture and a good atmosphere. It smells a bit on a hot day (not least of praline, which I find horribly sickly) and the people make a habit of saying 'y'all come back now, ya hear' which I found confusing, but apart from that it's pleasant enough. You could go by boat and then you wouldn't have to cross the Maginot line, or whatever it is.
I get the impression you have a happy home life up there north of Yonkers. Your daughter shows no sign of wanting to meet a man from the motor trade.
I'd rather meet a man from the archaeology trade. Preferably who does not have a secret pyromaniac wife.
My wife went to live with an archeologist after we separated, although he'd chosen to work with wood instead. He made doors.He said that archeology was too full of nasty backbiting and he didn't like it. And thank you for discreetly pointing out my pyro typo.
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