Sunday, December 04, 2005

Oh Lore

It was -1F when I got up this morning. It's warmed up a little but not so you'd notice, even though the sun shone brightly all day -- when the wind gusted it filled the air with blown snow from roofs and branches, which sparkled as it tumbled through the air, like cheap glitter. It looked wonderful from inside-where-it's-warm.

Lisa Snellings (the link is to her limited edition gallery -- perfect Xmas presents for your more dangerous loved ones) has now installed the statue in its nook -- repainted, added onto, and even more magical than it was before. It moves. It looks really lovely. My stairwell is no longer empty. I'll post a photo or two.

I occasionally grumble* about the way that I have hundreds of thousands of blog readers and Never Get Anything Cool, while people I know who have blogs on, say, birding or being gothic folk singers, get eg. oodles of free amazing high-tech birding implements or even free corsets, so I feel that I should go on record as stating that I just got much cool stuff -- a thank you from Penguin for mentioning The Meaning of Tingo on this blog a few months ago came with a copy of the Tingo, along with a large book called "THE LORE OF THE LAND: A GUIDE to ENGLAND'S LEGENDS, from Spring-Heeled Jack to the Witches of Warboys" by Westwood and Simpson. (I opened it, read that, in the case of a suicide buried at a crossroads in Chalvington in the 1750s, An oaken stake driven through his body grew into a tree, and threw a singular shrivelled branch, the only one it ever produced, across the road. It was the most singular abortion of a tree we ever saw, and had something extremely hag-like and ghostly in its aspect.... the tradition was... looked on as fabulous, until about twenty-seven years ago [c. 1827], when a labourer employed in digging sand near the roots of the scraggy oak discovered a human skeleton, and was in love.) Someone named Gina also sent me a copy of Trickster Makes the World, which I'd mentioned wanting here (thank you Gina).

In addition, "Ivory Bill" Stiteler came over, bringing with him a number of iPod accessories for me to try out. (Capsule reviews -- the Invisible Shield is a must-have for an easily-scratched Nano; the Sportsuit Convertible and armband are going to be great for plane travel; I really wanted to like the CEO Billfold Wallet (like this, only a billfold) but found myself only foreseeing difficulties with it (including the way one would have to keep taking the Nano in and out of the wallet to charge and update it, and keep taking your wallet out all the time to adjust your Nano...).

Incidentally, in Cuckfield, where my daughter Holly was born, The Lore of the Land tells us that a rich old lady "had been notorious for a bitter lawsuit in which she wrested ownership of the estate from the woman commonly thought to be her neice by proving the latter was not really her brother's daughter but had been bought by him in a pub in Dublin to provide himself with an heir." She came back as a ghost, of course, but it's that little fragment that caught in the back of my head.

(*It's not really a real grumble. It's just a something-to-make-your-assistant-who-is-very-happy-with-her-band's-corset-deal-roll-her-eyes-at-you grumble. This isn't actually a request for Stuff. There's too much Stuff here already, and Not Giving Me Stuff is more appreciated than Giving Me Stuff. Most of the people who give me books or CDs or DVDs simply add to my vague feeling of guilt at not having time to get around to everything I'd like to, honest.)