All those cluttered files!

Hello Gals and Guys   Yesterday I came to my senses and got down to sorting  a load of chaotic files.   I am coming to the end of a long  family saga which I have been writing over a period of about five years, when time permits between regular and commissioned work.    It is based on members of my Mother's family who were builders in Plymouth UK and in1882 arrived in Sydney to, very successfully, do that here!    It's meant a lot of interesting research and I plan it to end it  ten years later.   It  is vast. (Move over 'War and Peace'!)   My files were cluttered up with ideas for plot  development - some I've used some I haven't -  a lot of factual  stuff about  the City and indeed Melbourne, where a considerable amount of the action takes place,  fashions of the period, cemeteries, long closed department stores - you name it -  it  was all there; and especially scores of emails from a wonderful chap who researched every member of my family - The Tapsons  - these I still treasure.   All my sorting and clearing out took hours, and when I'd finished I didn't think I'd thrown out very much; but when I replaced my files in their usual little drawers I realised how well I'd done - there is actually space!  And I don't go mad when papers crush up as I attempt open them. . .     Mind you, on Thursday I  spent a few lovely hours in the nearby Stanton Library  which has a vast Historic Section covering North Sydney. . . and now I have some new trails that I'll be using in the next few days - so here we go again!   Nevertheless, I feel pleased, smug and and satisfied with my efforts.

Thin ice

Melancholy news on all sides. News of the death, some time ago, of Maurizio Masetti, a friend in Florence who was much concerned with the story of the Brownings and the case of Pompilia, the heroine of his poem The Ring and the Book - we originally met through the publication of my book on the subject, and Maurizio was a dear, mild, intelligent man we spent some time with on our last visit to Florence. He died suddenly in Bristol, on a visit to the UK, within forty-right hours of a rare chest infection. Then we hear that our old friend David Hight, who we met man, many years ago when he was working in publishing, put his car in reverse instead of first (don't know the details, but basically I think that was what happened) and damaged his leg so badly it was thought at one time it would have to be  amputated. Now recovering, though at the moment back in hospital because it's got itself infected. I guess one's immediate reaction to this kind of news, after pangs of sorrow and sympathy, is almost inevitably, 'Well, it wasn't me' - coupled with 'how easily it could have been me'. The ice on which we walks is damnably thin.

Now for Nelly

Now that I've got the book about the Roman murder case on-line I'm turning my attention to my biography of Nell Gwyn, there not being a really good one - it seems to me - available on-line. What an extraordinary Court Charles II ran, with  all those ladies vying for attention - Barbara Villiers, Lucy Walter, and of course Nell herself - none of them better than they should be, but all of them clearly extremely skilful in the one thing in which Charles was most interested. No doubt it wouldn't have done Lely good not to have flattered them, but all the same they were clearly all three extremely beautiful, and my favourite picture of Nell . . . well, I leave it to you.

Here comes Pompilia

Just got my book about a fascinating murder case on the Nte for downloading from Amazon: just to quote the publicity -

'Should a man be free to kill his adulterous wife? This is the crime of the eighteenth century. Count Guido Franceschini is accused of murdering his beautiful young wife Pompilia,  said to have eloped with a handsome young priest. But did they actually commit adultery? Half of Rome believes she did; the other half claims she is innocent. In this book the trial is reconstructed from contemporary court reports, and the gossip of the time. Pompilia: guilty or innocent? Count Guido: released or executed? This is the story Robert Browning re-told in his best-selling The Ring and the Book. From start to finish, it tells the story of one of the most fascinating trials of all time.  ‘A fine, powerful and persuasive book’ – Daily Telegraph   ‘Derek Parker is an exceptional and probing storyteller’ – History   ‘All the page-turning grip of a good thriller’ – Michael Dibdin.'

So, if anyone feels ready for a treat at $6.99 . . .

 

Oh those continuous performances!

Hi Julia here!   If you are really old you will remember the delights of continuous performances at the cinema.   One could go in at any time  - and if the movie was really popular one sometimes had to wait in a queue until someone came out or if the performance actually finished.   Of course, this was a good excuse to go in in the dark and to blazes with the movie, hope for back row seats and enjoy a good snog.    Some cinemas obliged with actual double seats - presumably for that very purpose - but if our boy friend had enough money to treat us to an ice cream we soon learned not to choose a choc-ice since all too easily, chocolate  paw marks on the openings of our blouses did not go down well with our mothers.  More generally, we would see what remained of the movie that was going on when we went in, and then eventually, much later, it would be 'Oh this is where we came in' and we'd leave.   But the real bonus of continuous performances were we could stay there and see any really special movie round for the second time - without paying any more.   This was sheer heaven if it was some lovely romantic thing or what have you.   My friends and I were either dancers or we all belonged  to the local  Shakespeare Society  So when Laurence Olivier's Hamlet was showing we would stay swooning and seeing it through  twice. - and on more than one occasion.   Of course, we dancers were more than just inspired by the wonderful  Moira Shearer in  The Red Shoes where even now, with my digital DVD, I can recite the script. Once when were in the South of France I suddenly ask Derek to stop the car.   "That's where Moira Shearer in her stunning Jaques Fath peacock green evening gown, went up the steps to learn that she was getting the ballerina role in The Red Shoes".   Oh yes! my generation made sure we had a lot of fun too -  in  all sorts of ways!

Oh! Poor Rhian's wellies!

Julia's got a sad story for you today!     Well yes, and of course we are all very concerned about the worse than dreadful UK floods, and my friend Rhian who lives in South Wales told me that she treated herself to a rather special, cheering pair of lovely purple wellies!   The other morning she looked out and actually saw a bit of blue sky.   If it was big enough to make a pair of knickers then it would stay fine.   Obviously it wasn't, because all too soon came another weather horror - a hurricane -which  blew her lovely wellies completely away. She tells me she hopes that they traveled together on the wind because then at least anyone finding them would have a pair.   Well Wales bloggers or maybe Cornish,,German or Aussie bloggers for that matter - have they come your way???

Christmas in Albert Square

We’ve been catching up with the Christmas UK editions of EastEnders, as usual almost totally disastrous for everyone! But Christmas in Albert Square has always been relentlessly downbeat – peace and goodwill to men? – hooey. We’ve watched this extraordinary show since it’s very first episode, when we were all children, and it has never failed – well, only very rarely – to be entertainment at the highest level of its sort (rather like the twopenny serials of Victorian times); and of course a marvellous training-ground for young actors now there are no repertory companies (recording an episode while rehearsing another and learning a third).  Neighbours has produced more really fine actors (Russell Crowe et al), but the standard of acting in Albert Square is remarkable considering the rate at which the episodes are churned out, and there have been several characters really etched into one’s memory. I suppose some people watch other soaps; but there is no doubt always an appetite for the second-rate (ha!).