Conversations with a bluebottle

I’ve been reading a book about an animal psychic who converses with creatures as diverse as crickets and squirrels. All you have to do, she claims, if you want some animal or insect to do something, is ‘frame’ it in pictures in your own mind first, and then, if you can, frame it again from the point of view of the creature. Sustain the internal pictures for a while, and Bob’s your uncle.

Well, this morning, I was in the kitchen and there was a large bluebottle buzzing around. Restraining an impuse to swat it, I ‘framed’ a picture of the bluebottle landing on the window, walking up two panes of glass, negotiating the metal frame, and escaping into the wide open spaces. I then ‘saw’ him do much the same, from his angle.

Blow me if he didn’t do just what I asked! At the end, he hovered on the metal frame, tipped his wings in acknowledgement, before skedaddling off.

Position of mechanical advantage

I’ve always been intrigued by what this means, and how useful it and its derivatives actually are for normal activities. What I mean by ‘normal’ is obviously dependant on lifestyle. Personally, I do a fair amount of sitting around but also a fair amount of physical activity. I’ve always found ‘monkey’, from its shallowest form, where the knees and hips and ankles barely bend, to its deepest, as in a full squat, invaluable. Also, the ‘lunge’.

However, last year I spent several months working part time Continue reading “Position of mechanical advantage”

Fragments of a Rainy Season

I caught a chance hour and a half of John Cale (and ex wife Rise) on German satellite TV singing all the songs from Fragments of a Rainy Season in what looked like a small, smoky, crowded club. I was so transfixed I didn’t even think of recording it. I’ve been trying to locate a video ever since. This album is an equisite portrait of one of the best artists around singing and playing the pick of his own songs (plus one beauty from Leonard Cohen) from the past twenty years, accompanied by himself on piano or guitar. The original “unplugged”. Delicious.

Johnny English

Okay, the ‘plot’ is banal, but Rowan Atkinson makes this film hugely enjoyable. Me, Myself and Irene was dire but it was redeeemed by one thirty second scene (dry mouth in the police station). Johnny English has several such breath sapping moments; and even without them, it’s still fun. Puerile, in parts; but that’s the human condition, isn’t it? I loved it. The extras are a bit on the limp side, though.