TV: Mongeville

 

This is a French tv series that I'm watching on DVD.  It's a cozy mystery type production and I'm enjoying it.

What I want to comment about is the music.   The first three episodes had this wonderful score, I guess you call it modern symphonic or some such description.  A bit atonal.  Especially over the end credits.

But staring with episode 4 they changed to a much more modern popular hippy-boppy type of music.  It's all right I guess but I find it kind of distracting and even annoying at times.

I guess they felt it reflects the cozy mystery feel better.

Movie: Wilby Wonderful (2004)

 

I've never understood why this movie isn't "around" more.  It's like its title, wonderful.

It's a very Canadian movie not just in terms of its cast and crew, but in its gentleness, and kindness, and subtlety.  For me everything here is just spot on - the acting, the directing, the script, the cinematography;

Perhaps it's just my age but a film like this about regular people getting through their regular lives is somehow comforting and even inspiring.  And isn't what you want art to be.

Piano

 

A friend recently posted on Facebook about how in the past he had played the piano.  Which got me thinking about my own past with the piano.

I took lessons for many years as a child and into my teens.  I passed Grade X from the Royal Conservatory in Toronto when I was in high school and then wanted to stop lessons.  Ostensibly because I wanted more time for my regular classes but largely because I was tired of practising and wanted more time to myself to  do the things I wanted to do - largely reading.  That's been a constant in my life - wanting time to myself and by myself to do the things that interest me.

In my thirties I was looking around for a hobby and thought it would be nice to get back to playing the piano.  I bought a piano and arranged for lessons at the Conservatory with a teacher who turned out to be excellent.  I wasn't interested in pursuing exams, I just wanted to play for myself.  I took lessons for two (three?) years and pulled myself back up to and past the quality of playing I had as a teenager.  

But there were things I eventually had to acknowledge.  I didn't love playing the way many people (including my mother) do - it was always work.  I never felt free or relaxed playing  - it was always an intellectual thing, not an emotional one.  It made me very tense - I used to get horrible aches along the ride side of my face (these stopped after I quit lessons).  I was beginning to resent the time practising was taking.  I had reached a point where any further improvement was going to require time and effort that I was just not willing to provide.  So once again I stopped lessons.

I continued to play for myself but irregularly and less and less over time.  Eventually I realized I had stopped altogether.  This was at the time that I was beginning to embrace minimalism and I sold the piano - which is something I do not regret.

After all that history, the reason I started this post was to say something about my reaction to my friend's post.  I was thinking how strange it was to have put so much time, effort and money into something and then abandon it.  (Perhaps one of the reasons I restarted lessons was because I felt I had that background and should do something with it.).   What I came to feel was that although it was something I no longer did I had no regrets that I had done it.  It was something I experienced  and it must have changed me and my view of the world and life in ways I'm not even aware of.  Like the years I took Latin in high school - it's not something I use, but I'm glad I had that chance - Latin is a very logical language and I think the knowledge I gained of grammar and sentence structure and logic has stood me in good stead.

So in the end I feel glad of the time I spent with the piano but at the same time I don't regret that it's no longer part of active life.

Solo

I can't remember a particular time when I decided that I was not going to find and mate and that I would be living my life on my own.

But at some point I stopped by pairs of things like coffee mugs and started purchasing just one.'

Book Lending

 

A friend who was over for dinner recently said, as he was leaving, "Next time I'm here I'm going to check out your books".  Now, this is a person who does a lot of reading but his words struck horror into my heart.

I don't like lending books, I have never liked lending books.  I have had bad experiences in the past with people borrowing books and not returning them, or returning them damaged.  Books have been an important and major part of my life since I first went to the library as a child.

I don't know why some people think that books on your shelf are somehow free to be borrowed at their whim.  People don't borrow pictures off your walls, or tchotchkes off your surfaces, or clothes from your closet or (generally) dishes from your kitchen.  Or, in the old days, LPs and CDs.  Why is that they think they have some right to grab your books?

Where does this attitude come from that you are somehow obligated to lend your books?

I estimate that I used to have well over two thousand books in my home.  When I embraced minimalism it was very hard but I gradually cut that down to around fifty books.  That kind of culling should  clearly indicate just how precious those books that I selected to keep are to me.

I know I can just refuse to lend them but I don't want to alienate my friend.   I don't have that many friends left.  I can't afford to lose one.

So I find myself reorganizing my shelves, picking out the books that mean the most to me and hiding them in drawers.  I have even gone down to the junk/exchange room in the basement of my building and picked out books that it would seem likely that I would own and put them on my shelves to replace the books I have removed.

I like seeing my special books on my shelf, just as I like seeing the few pictures and ornaments I have displayed.  Now I feel like I have to hide my books away to protect them.

Gone?

 

Back when there was still a "Next Blog" button on Blogger I found a lot of interesting blogs that I started following.  Since the loss of the button I haven't found a single new blog to follow.

Over time most of these blogs have stopped posting or just disappeared altogether.

I'm now down to one blog that still posts regularly.

There were two others that I have followed for years and which had regular postings which I enjoyed.

One was a poetry blog by an older man who wrote a lot about aging and the approach of death.  His last post was six months ago.

The other was a photography blog which included both general photography and photos of his family.  Over many years I got to feel that I knew, and liked,  these people.  His last post was eleven months ago.

I can't help but fear the worst, that both of them have died.  Not necessarily of course - they may be health or family or other reasons why they have stopped.

I miss them.

I'm also and older man and death will be coming.  No one I know has any idea that I have a blog.   I keep no notes.  The password is not written down anywhere.

There are times when I go fairly long periods without posting.    If it appears at some point that I am gone for good I'd like to say thanks to everyone who bothered reading.  

Travel Insurance

 

So, another story in the news this morning about a Canadian, travelling to the USA, believing the travel insurance they purchased will protect them.  Then a heart attacks happens while they're there and after submitting the $600K plus claim it is refused on a technicality.

This is not a one time happening.  I hear this sort of story often.

Even if the claim is accepted it can result in only partial payment.

I don't like travelling but I have been thinking I would like to visit some friends in the US - but I am old and have preexisting heath conditions and I'm now thinking it's not worth the risk.

It's perhaps time to just make a final decision that travel outside of Canada is something that I no longer do.