Hell is....

Today everyone is selling and no-one wants to buy except the chap who wanted Frankenstein. I have three but I just don't have the right edition for him. He declared himself shocked: 'I thought you'd make an effort to have that in stock.'

Why?

Happily Tom could give me a few hours away from this, which was just as well for the customer's sake really. I spent part of the time doing my bit toward equiping Sandy for a trip up the Amazon, a plastic cup, plate, bowl and a smart set of stainless steel eating gear, though in our day it was a whittled hazel stick with which we speared sausages and stirred the beans. After that I set sail for the Captain's table, which was crowded. I had hoped to sit in solitude reading 'The Black Swan' and having Thoughts but one of those Women Who Like to Talk joined me and Talked although I did my best to ignore her, fixing a yellow and black striped 'keep out' aura around myself. I did manage to snatch a sentence or two from my book. One in particular seemed apt: 'We are social animals; hell is other people.'

Note that it is all one sentence. I think it's neat.

Alternative realities.

After two really stupendous days in the shop the High Street has turned its back on me again and I am slipping into a black hole of boredom. So many things that need doing and they are all just - things that need doing. Nothing sets the pulses racing. Nothing grips the imagination. Nothing keeps me awake. A prospective customer came in at 11.38am to ask if I had a book on butterflies. I stared vacantly at her for all of a second (that's a long time if you are Photon Fred racing round that 27km particle collider this morning) before I could remember what a butterfly was. We should be able to put ourselves into cold storage, a semi-cryogenic state that carries us through the dull bits of life and preserves us bright eyed for the interesting bits.

Instead my mind mulls over the Photon Olympics. '...and 1 second into the race it's Photon Fred in the lead at 111 circuits being lapped as I speak by Photon Phil on his 115th circuit and now Photon Fred on his 222nd circuit has just edged into... on no there goes Phil... oh damn it all... bring on the Black Hole someone... for god's sake... oh sorry there is no god... What? You ARE god? You came here today to ask what the hell's going on? Well that's a damn silly question. What do you think is going on oh all powerful and omniscient one.. If YOU don't know, who does... You made it all, we're just trying to see how it works so we can make a better one next time.. Well don't get huffy at me, you have to admit there are a few flaws... I could show you them if you have the back of an envelope handy... meet you in an hour or so? Meet you where? The restaurant at the end of the Universe ... fine if you're paying, but I bet it's all booked up on a day like today...

CERN

9am Wednesday 10th September and so far we haven't all been pulled into a black hole by the Collider in Switzerland. We human beings never give up do we? We're always taking the watch apart to find out how it works. I think that's excellent. None of this nonsense about hubris or 'god done it.' Let's find out what we're made of.

Very strange. Trade has picked up big-time. Maybe I should stay very quiet about it.....

Mushrooms.

Very delicious, and this time of year I usually get a plateful or two of chanterelles from a friend who knows a place where they grow (people always keep this knowledge secret.) I THINK she is reliable but this year I shall take a closer look at them myself before I sauté them in butter. A local laird and his lady entertained their guests last week with a poisoned platter wherein lurked a false chanterelle (or two.) They spent time in hospital on dialysis to support their suffering kidneys and made the national news because one of the guests was the Horse Whisperer Nicholas Evans. ( Embarassing enough to poison ones guests, but how much worse to have it spread over the evening headlines!) All of which probably explains why the book "How to Identify Edible Funghi" that I put in the window today at 9am had been sold, along with the only other copy in the shop, by 10am.

It's an ill wind......

Persepolis

Talking of manga (which for those reading downwards from the latest post nobody was...) reminds me of an animated film I saw recently Persepolis, based on Marjane Satrapi’s autobiographical graphic novel of the same name. The film is also written and directed by her. Born in 1969 she grew up against the backdrop of the Iranian Revolution which gave hope to Marjane’s family for a better society but which resulted in the Islamic fundamentalists gaining power and creating a repressive theocracy, more tyrannical than ever with atrocities like mass executions for political beliefs or failures in religious observance.

Fiesty and rebellious even as a very young teenager Marjane’s parents fear for her and eventually persuade her to leave Iran for an education in Vienna where they think she will be safer. Though the decision is taken for the best of reasons Marjane feels isolated in Vienna, surrounded by people who seem to her superficial, self-obsesesd and judgemental of her, whilst taking their own freedom and peace for granted. She becomes clinically depressed, ends up on the streets and very nearly dies of pnuemonia.

Rescued and taken to hospital Marjane recovers enough to ring her parents and ask them if she can return home, although she makes it clear she can't talk about her experiences in Vienna. Once home she finds things are even worse in Iran than they were when she left. She makes a futile attempt to conform, discovers that to do so she will have to compromise all she values most, her honesty, integrity and congruence, in order to be able to lead any sort of life at all and not be arrested. Only when she has the courage to stand up and protest against the double standards for men and women students at the University does she feel herself whole again, but this is dangerous and sadly she recognises she must leave 'for good.' Her mother, because she loves her daughter deeply, tells her 'This time you must never come back.' The return home has not been entirely without purpose. Marjane has come to terms with her roots and can tell the taxi driver who picks her up from the Parisien airport that she is from Iran without feeling apologetic or ashamed.

It sounds a grim story and it is, but Marjane tells it in pictures with self-knowledge and humour and apparent lack of bitterness, so that it is poignant but also a celebration of human spirit - and that sound like a horrible cliche as I write it, I just can’t think of a better way to say it at the moment. It’s a beautiful film.

Courtesan

Kaigetsudo Anchi circa 1715
I've not been succesful in photographing the more complex scenes of Japanese life. The individual figures don't show up well enough, which is a shame.