Sorry for the gap. I’m fine, if feeble. We are totally
enveloped in the Festival here, and this post will be more culture than
knitting.
But it must be said that I have finished swatching,
for the moment, and cast on KD’s “Miss Rachel’s Yoke”. The plan is to skip
waist shaping and more or less do EZ’s EPS up to the yoke. At the moment the
circumference seems enormous and interminable. I’m halfway through the number
of rounds of ribbing KD prescribes. I think I may want more.
Archie and I went to see Ionesco’s “Rhinoceros”
yesterday. It was brilliantly staged and acted, but perhaps a quarter of an
hour too long. Archie agreed.
Edinburgh is absolutely stuffed with people. Ian
Rankin says in the Sunday Times today that there’s plenty of room for
everybody, but I’m inclined to disagree. A man got onto my bus as I was going home after the play, late
middle-aged; longish, untidy, grey hair; dressed in denims. He had one of those
rectangular badges hanging around his neck by a chain. The message on the
badge, hand-written in pencil, was: "I'm not a tourist."
Our next venture will
be to “Krapp’s Last Tape” on Tuesday. I think it’s shorter.
I’ve been enjoying
thinking about Palermo, where Archie and I hope to go in January. I’ve been reading Alan Langdale’s “Palermo:Travels in
the City of Happiness” which has produced a few good ideas. It says: “The
Normans subjugated the island in the 1070’s…(I am haunted by a Monty
Pythonesque scenario of an army made up entirely of soldiers named Norman.)”
Once you’ve read that sentence, it will never be possible to think of the
Normans in the same way again.
I decided it would be a
good idea to re-read (from many decades ago) Steven Runciman’s “Sicilian
Vespers”. In the course of ordering it – arriving today as a flesh-and-blood
book – I discovered Minoo Dinshaw’s biography of Runciman, published last year
and reviewed ecstatically on all sides, but I managed to miss it. A great
shame, as my husband would have enjoyed it. I’m reading it in my Kindle app.
I met Runciman once,
late in his life. Birmingham was a distinguished centre of Byzantine studies
due to the efforts of a dear friend. I have been thinking, all through Dinshaw’s
book, of that idea of Six Degrees of Separation. Runciman qualifies me for an
acquaintance with Edith Wharton, only one further step away. As well as for
most of the great and lesser names of the 20th century.
It is Minoo Dinshaw’s
first book. It is a truly brilliant display of scholarship and of empathy. I can find nothing
about him on Google except that he lives in London. I’ve seen a clip on YouTube
– English is clearly his first language. “Minoo & Dinshaw” are booksellers
in Lucknow. I’ve sent a friend request on Facebook both to him and to an
obvious pseudonym – but he doesn’t have many friends, in either guise, and I
don’t expect a response.