Notes for a Mostly Downbeat Week.

It’s interesting, isn’t it, that if you become obsessed with death it’s considered negative and unwholesome, whereas musing on the issue of mortality is considered philosophical. I understand the generalised difference between the two of course, but I find myself frequently musing on the particulars.          

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I worked out today that I’ve spent 40% of my life living alone. I don’t remember why I worked it out, but I did and it’s true. I gave some thought to the fact and was going to write a long piece on issues such as privacy, freedom, and the disinclination to compromise, but I can’t be bothered. I will just say that I was probably happiest back in the mid-nineties when I lived alone but had the theatre people to engage with when I wanted some engagement. I suppose that’s the sigma way. Any form of engagement is rather thin on the ground these days, and occasionally I miss it.

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On Monday I mentioned what I referred to as a ‘coating’ of snow. That was before the real thing started – heavy snow (both bird feeding tables were under 8” of the stuff in the morning) and temperatures hanging around freezing during the day and plummeting further overnight. That would be considered cold by UK standards in January, and it’s only November. By common consent it was quite a shock because we weren’t ready for it, having just had several weeks of mild, pleasant, and dry autumnal weather. I wonder what the real winter will bring, and to what extent mortality will be the byword.

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The last short story in Joyce’s Dubliners is by far the longest and arguably the most tedious. It’s all about aunts and nephews, husbands and wives, roast goose and puddings on the dinner table, and piano recitals by diffident young ladies (oh, and the cold darkness of the city streets lying under a layer of snow, damn its withering whiteness.) And it’s very, very drawn out. I’m coming close to the end now, and it all seems to be leading up to the classic old Irish balled The Lass of Aughrim and its relevance to current company. There are several versions of the song on YouTube, of which my favourite is the album track by Susan McKeown. That’s because I like her voice and presentation. It’s a bit sad, as you might expect of a classic old Irish ballad, but I suppose a little bit of pathos can be enjoyable if you’re in the mood.