I haven't blogged in a couple of days; and I wasn't too keen to start another post, but I'm determined to keep this thing going even if it's only for me, both to chart my thoughts and also to practise my writing. I've also got a couple of posts up my sleeve which I really want to get down, but holding back on those seems to keep me writing some others in the meantime. I've been feeling pretty down, and when that happens I find myself turning in on myself, which then makes those original emotions worse because I feel cut off and lonesome. There are things going on at home which churn up my heart, and my head. And this time of year, July and August, are always going to be difficult because it was when Mummy was at her most ill.
I went to see my tutor on Tuesday, the first time since I had my funding, so it was nice to see him and to chat about the larger future, rather than simply the next couple of months. He never seems to be flustered, and I cannot imagine him getting into a flap over anything; that is a trait that I certainly admire, and which is about as far off my own personality as one can be. He also has a canny way of picking up one's own anxieties and suggesting ways to manage them. Neither me nor my work has been at its best for the last couple of months. Although I'm sure that that manifests itself in many aspects of my life, in this meeting it was clear that I had been floundering rather in the space of dissertation planning - my tutor gently reminded me that 20,000 words can be filled in a not altogether difficult manner, and saying things to myself about 'having' to include certain plays, or worrying that I don't have enough knowledge of the social and civic history of 1590s London, is the surefire way of going mad.
The name of the game here is focus. I mustn't put pressure on myself to answer every question possible, and I must be careful in the asking of those questions because they can be framed in such a way that the answers that follow are ones which utilise my own, perhaps inadequate, but nonetheless existing literary skills. I don't need to run headlong into the complexities of London history, and give myself the mammoth task of trying to explain which instances of urban violence, social instability, or population explosion might be seen in the historical framework of some of Shakespeare's plays. Rather, I can approach the plays, and see how they reveal and interpret concepts of the city; ask how as a playwright Shakespeare transformed urban settings into theatrical settings and vice versa; and ask how those settings were constructed for specific kinds of social interaction (with apologies to Jean E. Howard). Start with the plays! How sensible.
Anyway, I feel a lot better today having had a good sleep - which does always help although it seems too obvious - plus P and I had an afternoon of watching The West Wing and that always makes me feel much more confident in taking on the world! Rather cheesy, but the episode where Jed Bartlett's secretary dies, and he rails at God in the Cathedral, and the tropical storm is blowing its way over the White House - that episode in all its American schmaltziness gave me a good boot up the backside, so here I am, and here I go off to have a bloody good look at those plays---
Thursday, 8 July 2010
Monday, 5 July 2010
Weddings etc
P and I went to a wonderful wedding on Saturday, in Warwickshire. The groom studied Engineering with P and the bride was at my college, but they didn't meet (like we did) at university and only afterwards, through some mutual friends. It made me wonder how often one meets/nearly crosses paths with someone who later on in one's life will become incredibly important. I think it's quite lovely to imagine sitting on the bus or being at the same party as one's future spouse without knowing! It was also the first wedding I've attended since P and I were married, and witnessing the vows somehow seemed different; I listened to them intently and they meant so much more, because I remembered repeating them and saying them out loud to my beloved.
I love the ritual of weddings, and I love how the traditions are melded with the idiosyncrasies of the individuals. We all gathered at the local pub before heading to Church, and following the marriage (and the bride and groom zooming off in an Aston Martin) we drove to a most gorgeous manor house where the reception was held. There was a cream tea laid on, boules to be played in the garden, and gingerbread men and ladies to decorate. The was a rather heavy French contingent, and their children were completely elegant even in toddlerhood! It was lovely to catch up with friends, whom I miss dreadfully having moved away from London. I also felt chuffed because it was the first event to which I had been where I could categorically say that I will be doing something post MA, and to say I shall be doing a PhD, the very thing I've wished to do for years, was the icing on the cake. And even those scientists who normally baulk at Arts PhDs were pretty impressed by the idea of researching taverns in Renaissance drama, and several offered to help me!
The wedding was marvellous fun, but also sad, because the groom's mother had died unexpectedly only 10 days previously. I've been to a couple of weddings now, including my own, where one of the parents of those getting married had died not long before, and I think in each one, that that person remained a strong presence. It's hard to strike a balance between honouring their memory and including them in the ceremony and celebrations, and making the day seem more maudlin than merry, but I think in every instance that I have experienced, that balance has been achieved. The giver of the address at the wedding this weekend used an analogy that I have never heard before, but one which spoke to me: of a tree having been cut down with a tree stump left in its stead. I love that he grasped the tangible presence of a loved one who is no longer here; and I love that the description allows for the roots of that tree to exist after it has been cut down.
Every day is a struggle without my mother, and momentous occasions are no harder to cope with than any other time. I remember her telling me that grief grabs one when one least expects it, and it may be seeing a dress in M&S which she would have loved that sets me off. But a marriage, a birth, a death, all these events are when the loss of someone close is both felt perhaps more keenly, and with more purpose, and certainly in a more public fashion. The groom's speech on Saturday was exceptional, in his obvious adoration of his new wife, and also in his missing his mother. I was so proud of my friend, for bravely celebrating the happiness and acknowledging the sadness of the day.
I love the ritual of weddings, and I love how the traditions are melded with the idiosyncrasies of the individuals. We all gathered at the local pub before heading to Church, and following the marriage (and the bride and groom zooming off in an Aston Martin) we drove to a most gorgeous manor house where the reception was held. There was a cream tea laid on, boules to be played in the garden, and gingerbread men and ladies to decorate. The was a rather heavy French contingent, and their children were completely elegant even in toddlerhood! It was lovely to catch up with friends, whom I miss dreadfully having moved away from London. I also felt chuffed because it was the first event to which I had been where I could categorically say that I will be doing something post MA, and to say I shall be doing a PhD, the very thing I've wished to do for years, was the icing on the cake. And even those scientists who normally baulk at Arts PhDs were pretty impressed by the idea of researching taverns in Renaissance drama, and several offered to help me!
The wedding was marvellous fun, but also sad, because the groom's mother had died unexpectedly only 10 days previously. I've been to a couple of weddings now, including my own, where one of the parents of those getting married had died not long before, and I think in each one, that that person remained a strong presence. It's hard to strike a balance between honouring their memory and including them in the ceremony and celebrations, and making the day seem more maudlin than merry, but I think in every instance that I have experienced, that balance has been achieved. The giver of the address at the wedding this weekend used an analogy that I have never heard before, but one which spoke to me: of a tree having been cut down with a tree stump left in its stead. I love that he grasped the tangible presence of a loved one who is no longer here; and I love that the description allows for the roots of that tree to exist after it has been cut down.
Every day is a struggle without my mother, and momentous occasions are no harder to cope with than any other time. I remember her telling me that grief grabs one when one least expects it, and it may be seeing a dress in M&S which she would have loved that sets me off. But a marriage, a birth, a death, all these events are when the loss of someone close is both felt perhaps more keenly, and with more purpose, and certainly in a more public fashion. The groom's speech on Saturday was exceptional, in his obvious adoration of his new wife, and also in his missing his mother. I was so proud of my friend, for bravely celebrating the happiness and acknowledging the sadness of the day.
Friday, 2 July 2010
Juggling things
It seems that the last few days have been occupied with all things PhD, and then before that I was rather unwell, so amongst this my MA dissertation has taken rather a back seat. My doctorate is going to be a study of taverns in Renaissance drama (more on that another time), and it's something I get really excited about, but it is my dissertation - entitled 'Rewriting the city in the history play' - that needs some attention at the moment! I do feel excited about this topic, but not quite in the same way, and I chose it as more of a stepping stone to later research rather than as a piece of work of its own end.
But any time I feel my attention wonder, I remind myself that I get to read Shakespeare's history plays over and again, and immerse myself in London of the 1590s, trying to discover connections the playwright made to his own time through the reflection of history. It's totally fascinating -of course Shakesp. was writing history, and using historical chronicles like Holinshed's as source material, but he did it in such a way that engaged with what was happening right outside the theatre.
When Falstaff moans “Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking” in Henry IV pt 2 (II.i.113) we hear an early Fifteenth Century souse's reaction to the late Sixteenth Century introduction of glass drinking-vessels instead of metal ones. It's a moment where the audience is suddenly rooted in a real tavern, where a community of drinkers rolls their eyes at the resident character complaining about the introduction of new tankards.
And yet this refraction of contemporary (to Shakespeare) life through an historical lens is more profound than that. I think it plays a crucial part in the social and urban politics of the plays. The scene that made me really think about what he was doing with his sources, how he was moving things around and why, is -again- from Henry IV pt 2. We see Mistress Quickly and Doll, with their hysterical words to the Beadle, defending the Tavern from an incursion by the civic authority:
DOLL: Come, you rogue, come, bring me to a justice.
HOSTESS: Ay, come, you starved bloodhound.
DOLL: Goodman death, goodman bones!
HOSTESS: Thou atomy, thou!
DOLL: Come you thin thing, come, you rascal!
FIRST BEADLE: Very well. (V.iv.22-7)
The Beadle’s short response seems to confirm their readings of what he represents in the scene, a figure of walking death. Is Shakespeare reflecting some view that the 'pure' urbanity of the Tavern - of 1590s place of leisure - should not be regulated by the increasingly powerful City of London, or indeed any civic authority? Hal’s invitation to the Lord Chief Justice only two scenes earlier will be ringing in our ears. The Justice is no two dimensional emblem of Morality (as E.M. Tillyard would have us believe) but a figure of civic order, and supported by the King: London and the Court come together in one man’s authority. His inclusion by Hal – and the incursion by the Beadle into the once unbreachable Boar’s Head – suggests the need for balance between instability and order both in the Tavern and City, but also a resistance to it, using the attractiveness of Falstaff's company as an example of 'the time before'. Once Hal has offered his hand in friendship, he emphasises the need for ceremony in the practice of this new civic order:
Our coronation done, we will accite,
As I before remembered, all our state (2HIV V.iii.140-1)
Hal’s decision to put ceremony before state affairs does not reduce it to procedure, but rather elevates it in the way exemplified by Stow in his Survey of London when he writes about the “triumphant shows made by the citizens of London”.
Gah, I'm such a nerd! I love these plays, I love writing about them and I love even more the feeling that one can 'get' just a bit of what Shakespeare is doing. Having said that, my mind is hardly ever full, or even half full of attempting-to-be-intellectual thoughts, Heaven forbid! Mostly I just about tread water amongst the daily stuff that one has to manage: today I was de-lousing the hen house (YUK), picking H up from school (with 3 bags of dirty washing from school camping trip), trying to find an outfit for a wedding tomorrow (yes I know, always last minute), burying ancient hen (with flowers & prayer) who had succumbed to the lice, feeling guilty about the lice, and a thousand other things.
And now off to cook supper for the boys ---
But any time I feel my attention wonder, I remind myself that I get to read Shakespeare's history plays over and again, and immerse myself in London of the 1590s, trying to discover connections the playwright made to his own time through the reflection of history. It's totally fascinating -of course Shakesp. was writing history, and using historical chronicles like Holinshed's as source material, but he did it in such a way that engaged with what was happening right outside the theatre.
When Falstaff moans “Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking” in Henry IV pt 2 (II.i.113) we hear an early Fifteenth Century souse's reaction to the late Sixteenth Century introduction of glass drinking-vessels instead of metal ones. It's a moment where the audience is suddenly rooted in a real tavern, where a community of drinkers rolls their eyes at the resident character complaining about the introduction of new tankards.
And yet this refraction of contemporary (to Shakespeare) life through an historical lens is more profound than that. I think it plays a crucial part in the social and urban politics of the plays. The scene that made me really think about what he was doing with his sources, how he was moving things around and why, is -again- from Henry IV pt 2. We see Mistress Quickly and Doll, with their hysterical words to the Beadle, defending the Tavern from an incursion by the civic authority:
DOLL: Come, you rogue, come, bring me to a justice.
HOSTESS: Ay, come, you starved bloodhound.
DOLL: Goodman death, goodman bones!
HOSTESS: Thou atomy, thou!
DOLL: Come you thin thing, come, you rascal!
FIRST BEADLE: Very well. (V.iv.22-7)
The Beadle’s short response seems to confirm their readings of what he represents in the scene, a figure of walking death. Is Shakespeare reflecting some view that the 'pure' urbanity of the Tavern - of 1590s place of leisure - should not be regulated by the increasingly powerful City of London, or indeed any civic authority? Hal’s invitation to the Lord Chief Justice only two scenes earlier will be ringing in our ears. The Justice is no two dimensional emblem of Morality (as E.M. Tillyard would have us believe) but a figure of civic order, and supported by the King: London and the Court come together in one man’s authority. His inclusion by Hal – and the incursion by the Beadle into the once unbreachable Boar’s Head – suggests the need for balance between instability and order both in the Tavern and City, but also a resistance to it, using the attractiveness of Falstaff's company as an example of 'the time before'. Once Hal has offered his hand in friendship, he emphasises the need for ceremony in the practice of this new civic order:
Our coronation done, we will accite,
As I before remembered, all our state (2HIV V.iii.140-1)
Hal’s decision to put ceremony before state affairs does not reduce it to procedure, but rather elevates it in the way exemplified by Stow in his Survey of London when he writes about the “triumphant shows made by the citizens of London”.
Gah, I'm such a nerd! I love these plays, I love writing about them and I love even more the feeling that one can 'get' just a bit of what Shakespeare is doing. Having said that, my mind is hardly ever full, or even half full of attempting-to-be-intellectual thoughts, Heaven forbid! Mostly I just about tread water amongst the daily stuff that one has to manage: today I was de-lousing the hen house (YUK), picking H up from school (with 3 bags of dirty washing from school camping trip), trying to find an outfit for a wedding tomorrow (yes I know, always last minute), burying ancient hen (with flowers & prayer) who had succumbed to the lice, feeling guilty about the lice, and a thousand other things.
And now off to cook supper for the boys ---
Thursday, 1 July 2010
Post luncheon thoughts
I've just had lunch with three of my mum's dearest friends; it was organised a while ago, but turned into an impromptu celebration of my PhD plans. I ought to mention here that my darling lovely Mummy died in 2008 from a brain tumour, diagnosed only a month before her death. I was living at home in Devon then anyway, temporarily, but made the move permanently to help look after my little brother H, who was 11 at the time, and my Pa.
Leaving London for good, and taking a year out to try to make some sense of my life resulted in my applying to do an MA, as I realised I had been longing to return to an academic life for some time. Learning for learning's own sake was something Mummy always believed in, and with her gone, it dawned on me that I believed in it too. Doing an MA allowed me - even more - time to think things over, as well as the flexibility needed when looking after a child; I could easily nip off to pick him up early if he wasn't well, or watch his swimming gala without having to take holiday from work.
So I then applied for a PhD, knowing it was one of the only things in Devon that I would love to do, rather than do because I had to do something. When I was originally turned down for funding, it only then struck me how much I wanted it for its own sake (there I am again with the journey being as important than the destination). I found my self feeling adrift - without funding there was not a chance that I could pursue my academic dreams.
And then more funding was found; I interviewed for it; and now I have it. It's strange because I feel more settled, and content, than I did yesterday, and perhaps because my aunt, and then my mother's friends all said the same thing - that Mummy would be so proud. My mother, in common with many others I'm sure, had a knack of knowing what I wanted before even I did. Her friends reminded me today of the short time my boyfriend (now husband) and I broke up from each other, and how she was so cross with me - with us! - for not realising what we had. I never had an inkling. She let me find out for myself, and when I rang her, as early as I could one Sunday morning, wailing that I still loved him, she laughed and said, "I knew this would happen!"
I feel that she would be saying the same thing now. I've worked for the BBC, for Radio 4 and the World Service, absolutely sure at the time that I wanted to be a radio producer. And then I KNEW I wanted to be a barrister, and got as far as getting a scholarship to read Law before Mummy became ill. But now, with the PhD in sight, I realise that it is what I wanted all along; that an academic life is in itself a worthy one, and that my dear Mumbo, as I called her, would be saying, "I knew this would happen!"
Leaving London for good, and taking a year out to try to make some sense of my life resulted in my applying to do an MA, as I realised I had been longing to return to an academic life for some time. Learning for learning's own sake was something Mummy always believed in, and with her gone, it dawned on me that I believed in it too. Doing an MA allowed me - even more - time to think things over, as well as the flexibility needed when looking after a child; I could easily nip off to pick him up early if he wasn't well, or watch his swimming gala without having to take holiday from work.
So I then applied for a PhD, knowing it was one of the only things in Devon that I would love to do, rather than do because I had to do something. When I was originally turned down for funding, it only then struck me how much I wanted it for its own sake (there I am again with the journey being as important than the destination). I found my self feeling adrift - without funding there was not a chance that I could pursue my academic dreams.
And then more funding was found; I interviewed for it; and now I have it. It's strange because I feel more settled, and content, than I did yesterday, and perhaps because my aunt, and then my mother's friends all said the same thing - that Mummy would be so proud. My mother, in common with many others I'm sure, had a knack of knowing what I wanted before even I did. Her friends reminded me today of the short time my boyfriend (now husband) and I broke up from each other, and how she was so cross with me - with us! - for not realising what we had. I never had an inkling. She let me find out for myself, and when I rang her, as early as I could one Sunday morning, wailing that I still loved him, she laughed and said, "I knew this would happen!"
I feel that she would be saying the same thing now. I've worked for the BBC, for Radio 4 and the World Service, absolutely sure at the time that I wanted to be a radio producer. And then I KNEW I wanted to be a barrister, and got as far as getting a scholarship to read Law before Mummy became ill. But now, with the PhD in sight, I realise that it is what I wanted all along; that an academic life is in itself a worthy one, and that my dear Mumbo, as I called her, would be saying, "I knew this would happen!"
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