Walking through the RGS

"The learned society & professional body
for geography & geographers."

1.
The Map Room has low cabinets
with shallow drawers.
The temptation to open one
almost overcomes me.

2.
There is a lunch reception and
I see out of the corner of my eye
that the immaculate man on the sofa
is from the Embassy of Azerbaijan.

3.
Tea Room : for use by Fellows and Guests only

(Do eminent explorers drink tea?)

4.
I am momentarily distracted
by the selection of guidebooks
for the Arctic and Antartica.

5.
Stanley, moustachioed and belligerent,
is hidden behind the swing doors.

6.
The Zanzibar chests
are from the Artefacts collection of the Society.
Please do not sit on them.

7.
A sliver of the Royal Albert Hall
is glimpsed through tall casement windows.

8.
In the empty lecture theatre
the brass edge to the balcony seats
shines dully in the half-light.

9.
Lavatories on the Minstrels Gallery

10.
Sir Wilfred Thesiger stares back at me,
his hooded bronze eyes exactly on a level with mine.

11.
The leather seats in the corridors
are gold embossed with
the impressive design of the RGS,
crowned and gartered.

12.
Photographs of Sherpas
from the 1936 expedition to Everest
stare solemnly out over the exhibition space.
In this building where great expeditions
have been proposed and planned
they claim their rightful place.

*****

Founded in 1830,
the Royal Geographical Society (with IBG)
is a world centre for geography:
supporting research, education,
fieldwork & expeditions,
and promoting public engagement
and informed enjoyment of our world.

Monday

I was late for work because...


...the sun was shining
on the leftover Bakewell tart
(with extra raspberries)
and I had to take a photo.

useful information

MasterM tells me
that if you bob for apples
in a barrel of cider
your hair is quite sticky
when you wake up
the next morning.

words

whenever I worry about writing
and not being able to find the words
I remind myself
that I have already recorded our life
for two and a half years
and so it doesn't matter
if I don't write anymore
because those memories are safe
and that seems to help me
overcome the fear
of silence


Image courtesy of Wordle

Saturday Afternoon

Most of my photographs are taken
to illustrate posts that I plan to write

but, occasionally, I just capture images
because they make me smile
and today was such a day.

There is no record of the Eggs Benedict
that MrM had for lunch
or the delicious grape coloured
cashmere rollneck that I nearly bought
or MissM, head bowed over a selection
of beautiful fountain pens.

but when I look at these photos
those moments are there too
and I can see them in my mind's eye

and I can hear the musician
who sang on the edge of the market square
and created a pool of silence
in a busy world.

The Secret of Eternal Youth

In China there is a legendary river
in the Sweet Valley (Amaya no Kikusui)
which flows with the essence of chrysanthemum dew
and those who drink from the river never grow old.

I love the image of Li Qing Zhao (1084-ca. 1151),
one of the early female Chinese poets,
moistening chrysanthemum-patterned brocade
with the dew from chrysanthemum flowers
and rubbing her face with it
to smooth away the wrinkles.

I must confess that I do not love chrysanthemums
but even as I turn away from the gaudy colours
and acrid smell of the cut stems
I know that they are the last flowers of the year
and I must now wait patiently until Spring.

As Matsuo Basho (1644-94) wrote

After the chrysanthemum
there is only the radish.

(Thank goodness that radishes are
Not the Secret of Eternal Youth.
Bathing your face in radish dew
does not have quite the same appeal.)

It was the end of a long day ...

...and I was standing in International Arrivals but it didn't matter because I was waiting for MissM and I was so looking forward to listening to her tell me about the weekend. There was a continuous stream of people walking past me and after a while I started watching them - the couple with matching bright yellow suitcases; the shortest shorts ever; the young girl reading the last pages of her novel as she walked; the elderly couple who looked as though they had just arrived from a farm in Lapland - and so on and on...all the endless variety that is there whenever you care to lift your head and see. And I thought 'I used to be able to write a blog post about this' and it seemed incredible that I could turn such ordinary things into words. I started wondering why the words were not there any more and tried hard to understand what the difference is between 'then' and 'now'. Perhaps I have less to write about - I am hoping that is not true. Perhaps I fill my time with lists of things to do and leave no space for thinking - possibly closer to the truth. Whatever ... there are things that I need to record and so I must get back into the habit of writing again.

There is just one new rule...no whingeing...

(and that is not on the approved list
but, as you know,
I have never been very good at memes)

Reflections on laundry

The Laundress
Edgar Degas

Half Term has arrived...
and not a moment too soon.

I feel flattened.

Time to rest,
go shopping with MissM
and perhaps do some ironing.

Back soon.

Soundscape

Most of the time my office door is open
and the room fills with the sounds of the Department.

1.
Laughter.
If you listen at any moment in the day
you will hear laughter
somewhere in the building.

2.
The squeak of the Admission Tutor's shoes
as he leads another guided tour
for applicants
and their anxious parents.

3.
The rattle of the ventilation unit
starting up on the ground floor Cold Store.

4.
The trumpet player in a nearby Hall of Residence
who practises endless scales and arpeggios.

5.
The students who chatter
as they leave the seminar room
"Human Geographers are SO intellectual."
and then, mysteriously,
"My girlfriend is KILLING me."

6.
The telephone in the office next door
which has a special ring tone
when the Professor's wife calls.

7.
The Academic who has just turned 40
who marches purposefully down the corridor
and says "I don't want to disturb you but...
I have another cunning plan..."

8.
The clatter of a skateboarder in the car park
where I hope that the new Little Car is safe.

9.
The folding bike with tiny wheels
being wheeled down the corridor.

10.
The faraway music of an ice-cream van
in the streets at the bottom of the hill.

11.
The swirling sounds of rooks roosting
in the tall trees outside the building.

12.
The succession of people leaving for home
who cheerily call out as they pass
"Bye, Alice, have a good evening.
See you tomorrow."

Stick and Ball

MrM and MrsM were standing on the touchline
on a sunny Saturday afternoon

and it occurred to them
that this will come to end soon.

No more mouthguard fittings...

No more pretending to understand the rules...

No more team talks...

No more post-match teas...

No more time to shout out 'Well Played!!!'
just because...
well...
because she is our daughter
and we think that she is wonderful.