A rather unsinspiring life update

[prunesquallormd]

Writing this with half an ear on Radio 4's dramatisation of Alan Garner's 'The Weirdstone of Brisingamen', so I'm kind of distracted :/ It, and the sequel 'Moon of Gomrath', were two of my favourite books as a child and I still remember them fondly. I remember how surprised I was (after more than 10 years in Liverpool) to discover that Alderley Edge was actually a real place and the reality of it was no less stunning than the pictures my childhood imagination conjured up. I still love it, although - it being closer to Manchester than Liverpool - I don't visit as much I'd like (the last time I went was Halloween last year, and I wasn't, for reasons, in the best frame of mind. It's far nicer in midsummer, though obviously also far more busy. Either way, if you happen to find yourself in Cheshire, it's very much worth the seeing. One of the most beautiful places in England.
I found out a few weeks ago that Garner has written a follow-up, called 'Boneland'. It's unusual in that, while it's the third of a trilogy that started with two children's books, it's an adult novel. I guess I'll read it, though his adult books are, well, less than comfortable reading. To be fair, neither are a lot of his children's books. Elidor is grim beyond measure, and though I love Red Shift it's not a happy story by any stretch of the imagination. (Ooh, the svartalfar have just turned up in the story. Yay :) And the Wizard too :D).

Anyway, see, I'm rather distracted. Where was I? Not much to say. This week has been considerably less horrible than last (though my annual review was rather annoying. Apparently strong technical skills and hard work don't help much if you can't play the corporate politics game.) After last Saturday's endlessness (Sams, followed by hours of trying to figure out what to get my niece for her 10th birthday - I finally decided on a couple of Asterix books - then all evening helping Cath move house) I'm very much looking forward to a weekend of doing nothing at all. Just need to catch up on emails and stuff, which is pleasant enough.

Ooh, I found out recently that Parks and Recreation is showing in Britain (on BBC4 apparently). Which is nice.

There's probably more to write but I'm finding it a little hard to focus with my brain mostly focused on events in 1960s Cheshire (the story's getting quite lively now :)) so I'll sign off.

This week's musical obsession is early Hera (Hera Hjartardóttir to give her her full name; she's Icelandic though she mostly lives in New Zealand these days, I think, and sings in English). This is a cover of an Icelandic song by a guy called Bubbi Morthens. My Icelandic is non-existent though I do catch 'midnight sun', and apparently starir á hafið means 'staring at the sea'.
It's kind of fascinating trying to follow the words as they're being sung.
It's a beautiful song, even with no clue of what's actually going on.

Ég kom í þorpið kvöld eitt um sumar
klukkan tólf í miðnætursól
Ég fékk herbergi upp á verbúð, það virtist í lagi
með vask, borði og stól.

I came to the town one evening in summer,
12 midnight in the midnight sun,
I took a room in a fisherman's hut, it seemed okay
with sink, table and chair

Um morguninn gekk ég út á götuna að skoða
sá gömul vélhræ liggja út á lóð.
Ég sá hús sem áttu sögu og sum voru að deyja
það seytlaði úr gluggunum blóð.

About morning I got out to the road to see
one old wreck laying out on the yard.
I saw a house which had stories and some where dying,
The windows trickled with blood.

Það er stelpa sem starir á hafið
stjörf með augun mött.
Hún stendur öll kvöld og starir á hafið
stóreyg, dálítið fött.

There is a girl who stares at the sea,
Rigid, with unshining eyes,
She stands all evening and stares at the sea,
Her bulging eyes, protruding eyes.

Ég sá hana dansa með döpur græn augu
dansa líkt og hún væri ekki hér.
Hún virtist líða um í sínum lokaða heimi
læstum fyrir mér og þér.

I saw her dancing with sad green eyes,
Dancing like she wasn't here
See seemed to float about in her closed up world,
locked from me and you

Hver hún var vissi ég ekki en alla ég spurði
sem áttu leið þar hjá.
Þar til mér var sagt að einn svartan vetur
hefði sjórinn tekið manninn henni frá.

I was not sure who she was, despite asking everyone
who was passing by.
Until i was told that one black winter
the sea had taken her man from her.

Þetta er stelpan sem starir á hafið
stjörf með augun mött.
Hún stendur öll kvöld og starir á hafið
stóreyg, dálítið fött.

Þessi starandi augu, haustgræn sem hafið
ég horfði ofan í djúpið eitt kvöld.
Þau spegluðu eitthvað sem aðeins hafið skildi
angurvært, tælandi og köld.

These staring eyes, authumn-green like the sea,
I watched down in the depth one evening,
They reflect something that only the sea understood
sad, seducing and cold

Uppi á hamrinum stóð hún og starði yfir fjörðinn
stundum kraup hún hvönninni í.
Þar teygaði hún vindinn og villt augun grétu
meðan vonin hvarf henni á ný.

Up on a cliff she stood and stared over the bay
sometimes she kneeled among the Angelica,
There she gulped the wind and lost eyes in tears,
while her hopes disappeared again

Þetta sumar var fallegt, ég fékk nóg að vinna
það fiskaðist og tíðin var góð.
En ég stóð og hugsaði og starði út um glugga
um stelpuna sem var talin óð.

This summer was beatufiul, I took enough from work,
The fishing and weather was good.
But I stood thinking and staring out the window
at the woman who was believe to be mad

Eina nótt hrökk ég upp í skelfingu og skildi
hvað skreið um í hjarta mér.
Það sem virtist í fyrstu bara forvitni hjartans
hafði fundið ástina hér.

One night I jumped up in terror and understdood
what crawled about in my heart.
That which seemed at first just a curious heart
had found true love here,

Í stelpu sem starir á hafið
stjörf með augun mött.
Hún stendur öll kvöld og starir á hafið
stóreyg, dáldið fött.

Daginn eftir fór ég með fyrsta bílnum
sem flutti mig suður á leið.
Ég leit aldrei til baka, ég bölvaði í hljóði
og í brjóstinu var eitthvað sem sveið.

The day after I went with the first car
which carried me south on the road
I never went back, I cursed in silence
and in my chest there was something that burned.

Er ég les það í blaði að bátur hafi farist
þá birtist mynd í huga mér.
Þar sem hún stendur og starir á hafið
starir þar til birtu þver.

If i read in the paper that a boat had sunk
Then an picture came to mind,
Where she stood and stared at the sea
Staring til break of dawn.

***

And that's me. Time to sign off, I guess.

I hope you're all well.

Have fun, all.

♥ ♥ ♥