My morning ritual

 Taking impetus from a recent post of the esteemed Dr Spo's blog, I thought "Well, why not me too? After all, nobody else knows this of me".

As in just a few weeks' time I'll be entering my ninth(!) decade, with the likelihood that I'm not going to be in this world for that much longer, instead of leaving this one particular aspect of my life unknown, why not tell everyone of a rather unusual long-term habit of mine. 

Starting just after I left school at the age of 16, and continuing right up to the present - while even adding further to it over the last 60+ years - I've adhered to it, if not for every single day since, then certainly more than 95% of those days. Maybe some of you'll think I'm as mad as a March Hare, but now I'm past caring. 

So, most mornings by far, being a news-junkie, after catching up on world news via BBC and Sky while eating brekkies, I go through this:-

 

1. Revise my memorising of all the Shakespeare Sonnets - one per day, so that in a year I'll have covered each of them at least twice. I first began doing this about 25 years ago. Why? Well, why not? 

2. Revision of around 60 poems I know by heart, from various writers of all periods. Again, one per day - plus another one per day of selected poems I don't yet know verbatim, though that may come in time. 

3. Read 3 poems per day from the anthology 'Oxford Book of English Verse 1250 -1918', following the alphabetical index of first lines. Nearly 1,000 poems in all.

4. Three poems from volumes of certain individual poets, currently they are Robert Browning and Dylan Thomas which I'm reading in tandem.

          
                                                                    

5. Read a paragraph or so from a micropedia of British history from 7,000 B.C.E. up to the 1990s.

6. I read a passage from the Bible (Do you gasp? Well, don't worry)

Having completed 10 readings in three versions of the whole darned volume from cover-to-cover over some six decades about 10 years ago, I'm currently re-reading, for the umpteenth time, the New Testament gospels and the epistles, the latter especially being a crashing bore!  How anyone on Earth can call the Bible their "favourite book" and to mean it is beyond my comprehension. 

Both Old and New Testaments (even in the widely revered King James version), moreso the former, are turgid, flat - and annoyingly sparse on detail, leaving the reader to imagine it as they wish. Of course there are a fair number of episodes we all know - the 'Old' containing the Creation, Adam & Eve, Cain & Abel, Moses, Ten Commandments, Plagues of Egypt, Exodus, Abraham & Isaac, Jacob and his sons incl. Joseph, Samson & Delilah etc etc. plus, of course in the New, the life of J.C. (or at least the final three years of it) with his death and.........resurrection(?) - and all those tedious, repetitive and often puzzling/nonsensical Epistles. But there are really not that many noteworthy events considering the length of the Testaments - yet all separated by acres on acres of ennui - and oh, but all those interminable genealogies! Who cares about who begat whom? Yawn, yawn, yawn! In those patriarchal times (even now far too prevalent in many parts of the world, alas) it seems that only men with male offspring were worthy of mention, with virtually all females being sidelined into non-existence. 

7. A section of the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas.

8. A section of the 'Catechism of the Catholic Church'. Why? Same answer.

9. A sura or so from two translations of the Koran - which I find distinctly unappealing, unmoved and not infrequently look askance on.

10 A Chapter-Text (with explanatory commentary) translated from the Hindi scripture of Bhagavad-Gita. Yes, it does go on forever and ever, though it's rarely 'dull'.

Then, if I'm so minded, I might read a section of a book on Yoga (philosophy of, rather than physical practice) plus, maybe, a section from 'The Tibetan Book of the Dead'....or others of that ilk. I have more than a dozen books on Buddhism, the only 'religious' subject towards which I feel some sense of positivity, maybe along with a degree of fascination too, but always from the outside looking in rather than a fully fledged commitment/involvement to it - though I did attend two or three series of meditation classes some years ago.

All the above will usually take me about an hour, after which 

I'll do me some physical exercises - stretching, balancing, muscle strengthening, with some basic Tai-Chi thrown in. 

Thus start most of my days - after which, I can get on with my 'normal' day, perhaps shopping for fresh food (twice a week) - then another reading of Boccaccio's 'Decameron' - which I'm now near finishing for the third time, though this time in two translations together - then start my monthly reading of a Shakespeare play (this month it's 'Merchant'). This is a habit I've pursued ever since I was about 18, never ever having missed a single month, so must have read every play at least 20 times. Then it's followed by my choice of yet another third, and surely final, reading (before it's too late) of Hermann Hesse's 'The Glass Bead Game'. 

Then, for a change, I might catch up on iPlayer with 'Traitors' - right now the Canadian version, as I've become addicted to all Traitors programmes from whichever country is currently available. The Irish one I've found particularly watchable. 

Ah well! Such is life! Heigh-ho! 😄

My dearest little Bobby has passed away.

 

He was only just nine, middle-aged for a cat. He'd been ailing with we-don't-know-what for a couple of months, eating very little but drinking lots of water. The vet did some blood tests but couldn't determine exactly what the trouble was. So, night before last, he was lying on the bedroom floor at the foot of my bed, having lost significant weight and by then not even touching his favourite foods nor the water left beside him. When I went to bed at 12.30 a.m. (having stayed up for the World Cup Football) I checked that he was still breathing, albeit slow and shallow. I woke up a few hours later to find him in the same position, eyes open, though cold and lifeless. Took his poor body to the vet this morning for disposal. (Oh how I hate these times, of which I've seen far too many).

I don't have a photo of him as I now don't have the means to take any, but he was a real dearie, affectionate to me - and especially loved to be combed with a special 'cat-comb' (not one of those plastic 2-inch combs but a purpose-made steel-toothed one with handle), he coming to me half a dozen times a day and rubbing me to say that that was what he wanted.

He was mostly black, with a white breast and white paws - and was very much a home cat, while my now sole surviving pussy, Sloopy (same age), is rather more adventurous, though he too also returns comes home.

Sorry - I know that you other pet owners go through exactly the same trials from time to time, but I've got no one else here to off-load and spill my emotions onto. So, I do apologise for my indulging in details of which so many of you will be already painfully familiar, but if I don't get it off my chest to somebody, somehow, anyhow, I'm going to crack.

Farewell, my dearest lovely boy. Thank you ever so much for giving me your love - and your trust. I do so very ardently hope we will meet up again 'later'. XXXX

Eurovision 2026 - UK finishing last yet AGAIN! Heigh-ho!

 

The 70th anniversary finals - of which I've watched all but a small handful of them - this year's host being last year's winner - Austria. 

And oh dear! My hoping that at last there'll be a contest containing at least a few acts I'd appreciate enough to want them to win - but once again I find myself out of sympathy with virtually all of last night's 25 performances, such that I couldn't have cared less whosoever would be the winner. I can only guess that for me it's a 'generational' thing as I watch, listening, yearning, for a memorable tune - but could hardly find any at all!  

Winner was Bulgaria by quite a margin, and for their first ever time - with Dana singing 'Bangaranga'. (Please don't ask!)

Runner-up, Israel - their third consecutive time in second place. Their involvement caused five of the regular nations, including Spain, Ireland and Iceland, to boycott this year's contest. If I'd bothered to vote (though now by land-line phone not allowed, on-line only for the first time) this is the one for which I'd have reluctantly cast my choice:-

One Noam Bettan singing 'Michelle' (No, not the Beatles 'Rubber Soul' song!)

And third was Rumania, with the most 'controversial' song of all - understandably, perhaps, with a title of 'Choke me!' - sung by someone whose name I can't be bothered to type.......

Australia came 4th and the bookies' favourite, Finland, came in at 6th place.

And the U.K.'s entry to 'gain' yet another last place with a final score of just the one point (awarded by Ukraine) as against the 516 points given to winner Bulgaria - 'Look mum no computer' (that's the name of his act, not the song title - his real name, Sam Battle) performing, yes, 'Eins zwei drei' ........(don't say a word!)

                      "Eins, Zwei, Drei - Darlin' I need something saltAY!"

                      "Eins, Zwiei, Drei - with a slice of pepperonAY!"

Why did we bother? However, I do think last place was a trifle unfair, I reckon that coming in at 20th would have been nearer the mark - there were, in my humble estimation, some even worse songs!

Just a few misc. points.

Boy George made a very brief participating appearance at the end of San Marino's effort - he co-wrote their song - but it couldn't even pass the semi-final stage.

I found Greece's act the most 'fun' to watch - man dressed as a cat(?) though in very un-cat-like costume:-

The two hosts, this year, whose names I shan't bother you with, were as tiresome as Eurovision hosts can usually be:-

As is now the case every year, the programme was so damn bloated, far too much needless 'padding' and taking just a quarter hour under four hours long. It could easily have been cut by a full hour at least -which would even then have made it nearly three hours. The actual first song wasn't even performed until 20 mins in! And then, why oh why, do the presenters always have to yell at the audience "Are you ready? - I can't hear you! - I said are you READY????" Good God! We'd all been ready since last Xmas! Just GET ON with the damn thing!

And the re-visit of last year's (unaccountable?) winner, a youngish guy displaying his 'talent' for stratospheric falsetto in a completely forgettable song, not only re-reprising his victorious entry in the main half-hour interval before voting results were announced - as though we needed yet another song! - as well as returning his persona in at least another of the extended 'pauses'. Oh, more PLEASE! (For gawd's sake, just GO!)

And Graham Norton's  commentary? Nothing special!

And very finally, apart from the usual conspicuously gay-predominating audience, none of the acts themselves demonstrated any gay 'flourishes' or even mild suggestions of - so Russia's Pres. Putrid would have given it a thumbs-up "DA!" (while no doubt ordering 3/4 of the 10,000 audience to be arrested). Among the performers themselves and backing dancers/singers, apart from maybe two or three of the dancers, very little eye-candy for me this year...... 

'nuff said!

So next year, Sofia - though I know that, despite all, I shall be watching ........yawn!

What did an aspiring quiz champion call this type of crossing?

 

Question (an easy-peasy one just to relax the contestant into the general knowledge round) - What equine-type animal gives its name to a pedestrian road crossing with distinctive alternate black and white stripes?  Her answer - "Horse!" LAUGH? Well it's hard not to! 

This was on a broadcast a few days ago in our national 'Mastermind' quiz. Obviously sidetracked by the word 'equine' with which I should have thought that more than half the  population would be familiar. Okay, so we know that going solo under television lights on a nationally transmitted programme can easily cause confusion to a contestant, only this was one where she'd already come first in both her initial heats as well as in the quarter-finals and was now at the semi-final stage (in which she eventually actually finished in joint second-place) so one would think she'd have got the idea how to play it by then. Heigh-ho!

Neil Sedaka dead at 86 - another past shining beacon gone.

 

Composer and performer, his talent loomed large in my life during the 1960s and (slightly) beyond - especially when I myself was aiming at becoming a songwriter, even though I never managed to get any of my own admittedly feeble attempts published.

Above - his appearance 20 years ago at London's Royal Albert Hall.

But I held his creative ability in awe around that time - his hit songs like 'Oh Carol', 'Breaking Up Is Hard To Do' 'Calendar Girl' 'Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen' and so many more. (I only found out this morning that he'd penned the Connie Francis hit 'Stupid Cupid' when  he was still in his teens!)

Then in following decades my respect for him dwindled, starting with his seemingly vehement (to me at that time) denial at rumours that he was gay, as though being so was 'shameful'. He had in fact been married to the same woman all his life since 1962, having with her a son and a daughter - and, though the rumours persisted there's been no significant evidence that he actually is/was gay, those stories perhaps fuelled that he at an early time composed collaborations with an 'out' gay young man, though nothing of substance other than that. So I now accept that he highly likely was hetero after all, despite my then annoyance at his apparent over-reaction to the possibility of his being 'other'.

(Now to follow, a bit of a diversion to a pet peeve of mine which, oddly, I have never heard discussed - on radio, TV or anywhere else at all, though it's bugged me for many decades........)

Perhaps more importantly to me personally than the above, in his composing work later in life Neil Sedaka became an enthusiastic advocate for something which I just CANNOT abide - specifically, putting words to themes written by great classical composers - a practice being utterly devoid of any respect for the intentions of the composer. Foremost is the perpetrators' all-consuming desire to earn money by riding on the backs of the deceased, using the latters' creations to get it, despite the severe mental 'disturbance' to admirers like me of the original, wordless work that its creator had intended. Once heard with words, near impossible to forget. Surely a form of mental 'abuse' for we listeners! Luckily, as far as I know, none of Sedaka's products of this type became well-known, and it's maybe just as well that I cannot name any songs of such - though I most definitely could point to a myriad of songs from other songwriters that do do just that, some of which became popular, both down the last half-century or more as well as even quite recent 'hits'. I suppose one of the most prominent examples of these travesties is the filmed musical (and occasionally still staged) 'Kismet, using the music of Borodin, some of which is so sublime, yet now with added words totally at odds with the (pre-word) music's emotions that poor Alexander B. must yet be turning in his grave!  (They've also done the same thing with Grieg's music in at least two films). And one further illustration - probably the best known of all, the film and stage musical of 'Carmen Jones' where Oscar Hammerstein took whole swathes of Bizet's Carmen (which has been one of my own favourite of all operas) and replaced the original French words by his own (English, of course) so as now to involve the 'sport' of boxing instead of bull-fighting - though admittedly the original opera's subject is hardly any 'better'.

In all such cases, once one hears what may formerly have been incredibly uplifting and inspiring music, after words have been added all its original beauty has been utterly lost! And what's even worse - if such a thing is possible! - it often becomes an earworm! - impossible to listen to the original composition without the words coming back to haunt you. The supernal music of Chopin has been another victim of this practice, as has Rachmaninov's.

I shan't offer further examples because it might well make others unfamiliar with them curious enough to investigate and so to risk having a like experience of what for me, as an avid classical music lover, a bane imposed over a most valuable part of my life.

Anyway, I've gone to town on this subject when I hadn't intended to, but it really is a reflection of the degree of hostility on the subject I've always felt ever since I first became a convert towards classical music way back in my mid-teens. 

So, as a final word, getting back to the late Neil Sedaka - a fond(ish) farewell to someone who absolutely was a giant of talent in my pre-20s years and onwards - and who, in spite of what I've written, I do still look up to. Thank you indeed, Sir!