Receding into mist
The summer, and its peculiar interrupted quality this year, is gone. Summer interruptus; short tantalizing stretches, interspersed with unpleasant patches, but now it has changed into chilly rain. Maybe we'll have to chase it somewhere.
Our almost ninety year old denizen is following the same direction as the season, and I'm hoping the shift won't be unbearable for any of us.
Another little tidbit from George Eliot's novel Felix Holt. There is an election in a place called North Loamshire, and one of its inhabitants, a tenant farmer, is described thusly: "poor Mr. Goffe, of Rabbit's End, considered that 'one thing was as mauling as another', and that an election was no worse than the sheep-rot;" The next one coming up for the US is looking worse than sheep-rot.
Our almost ninety year old denizen is following the same direction as the season, and I'm hoping the shift won't be unbearable for any of us.
Another little tidbit from George Eliot's novel Felix Holt. There is an election in a place called North Loamshire, and one of its inhabitants, a tenant farmer, is described thusly: "poor Mr. Goffe, of Rabbit's End, considered that 'one thing was as mauling as another', and that an election was no worse than the sheep-rot;" The next one coming up for the US is looking worse than sheep-rot.
posted by isabelita at 9:48 AM
4 Comments:
Isabelita,
Thanks for stopping by at ABH. I'm utterly charmed, and you never mentioned that YOU, in addition to Mr. Perils, had a blog, too. Or given the sorry decay of my hearing, it's possible you disclosed it, and I simply nodded my unregistering head and said, "How interesting."
Your Eliot sheep-rot election vignette may be "borrowed" by yours truly. (Your high standards for elections must not have come, presumably, from any of Mr. Eliot's works?) I'm of similar mind, and have seen the Mighty Fix coming for some time. (Translation: Hillary is practicing her footwork for "Dances With Neocons.")
Both Lord Wife and I would love to run into you again, spontaneously or not. In fact, she has made a spoken wish to that effect. Please drop a note if you find yourselves ready for an evening's rambunction, particularly on Fridays. My regards to Mr. Perils, as well!
Oh, I may have muttered something about a puny little thing of a blog.
Actually, George Eliot is the nomme de plume of a woman writer, and among her works are The Mill on the Floss, Silas Marner - both pretty glum works - as well as some humdinging bigger ones such as Romola, Middlemarch, Daniel Deronda, and this one I'm reading now, Felix Holt: The Radical, which is chock full of amazingly timeless human political folly, folderol and fuckuppery, circa the mid 1800's in Britain. I bet you would appreciate the chapter describing the way all the various factions lined up on polling day and made the men who were going in to vote run a gauntlet; quite astounding! Makes our private voting look like goin' to the chapel... but Hillary's existence would have been beyond heresy for the men of those times, since women didn't even get to vote!
It would be fun to met up again. We shall keep in communication. Best to you both.
Cool! re: meet-ups.
Not as cool re: getting my Eliot wires crossed. I think some unfortunate tried to force me to read Silas Marner, and two of the major women in my life both read Middlemarch of their own accord. So I confused her with my Eliot (T.S.), whom I don't know fully, thinking he must've somehow mucked about in the shires of England and written a novel!
Maybe I'll pick up that copy of Middlemarch and peruse...
Mom not well?
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