How does it make you feel?

Posted on May 16, 2021 by lesleyjonesberry

‘Our possessions outlast us, surviving shocks that we cannot; we have to live up to them, as they will be our witnesses when we are gone. In this room are the goods of people who no longer use them’

Hilary Mantel, The Mirror and the Light pp66-67

I like change, but I approach it crabwise and incrementally. I sidle up, try to consider it from all angles. I review and rehearse each step, until that one feels comfortable, and I can look towards the next. I am easily alarmed, and superstitious, and like time to adjust. Since March, however, the pace has been disconcerting, the big conceptual shifts overlaid with urgent practical tasks.

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If I knew you were coming

Posted on January 27, 2021 by lesleyjonesberry

I made a cake at the weekend.  I don’t often bake these days but it was my son’s birthday and traditions are reassuring.  My mixing bowl is a Mason Cash – you know the type, surely in the UK it is the ur-mixing bowl of mixing bowls. Continue reading →

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In My Mind’s Eye

Posted on January 10, 2021 by lesleyjonesberry

Another national lockdown returns me to Dickens.  I have written already about the reassurance and pleasure provided through long novels.  Good audiobook versions are my substitute for live theatre:  more than anything else, this is where I can find compensation for the things I miss – shared space, face to face interaction.  Headphones increase the intimacy, encouraging and enabling the retreat from the outside world and full immersion into a new one.

I am a re-reader as much as I am a reader – I love revisiting works, rejoicing in both the deep pleasure of the familiar and in the always-to-be-found thrill of something new, something overlooked last time or simply striking afresh because I – or my circumstances – have changed.  At the moment it’s Nicholas Nickleby (again) which means just me and Alex Jennings inside my head. 
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Connexions

Posted on November 22, 2020 by lesleyjonesberry

In the midst of what, for convenience, I’ll call the ‘second lockdown’ I have rejected Zoom. My head recognises its benefits, but my heart has rebelled.  Continue reading →

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Retrospective

Posted on November 11, 2020 by lesleyjonesberry

I’ve started reading Barney Norris’ The Vanishing Hours. The first few pages are exquisite, and chime so strongly with my current mood that I’m just going to quote from them:

I thought if I could record all the beauty that I had witnessed, every image that had made me feel like my days were worth having, then maybe others…would be encouraged…to see past the things that beset them and look out for beauty. I would have loved to have found a book like that.

Beat the DevilThis blog is also a companion piece to Anticipation.  Against all expectations,  September and October were measured out in Bridge Theatre visits.  Continue reading →

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Anticipation

Posted on September 2, 2020 by lesleyjonesberry

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse’

The Night Before Christmas By Samuel Clemens

In the library at my primary school, there was a book which contained just this poem – a verse per page, gloriously illustrated.   I was enchanted, and learned the poem by heart.  I don’t say I can quite remember it all still, but a fair chunk still remains. I love the opening couplet and its suppressed moment of stillness and waiting; as I’ve said before, I gain much pleasure from looking forward to things, sometimes as much or more than the event itself. Continue reading →

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Music and Movement

Posted on July 25, 2020 by lesleyjonesberry

A friend took part in a virtual choir event of vast scope recently. The organiser, Eric Whiteacre, launched this in 2010, with 185 people taking part.  Since then it has grown enormously and in 2020 over 17,500 singers, many recording their parts under lockdown, performed Sing Gently. The gorgeous result, combining voices and video, is  now available on YouTube.

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Imaginary Friends

Posted on June 6, 2020 by lesleyjonesberry

‘I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space’

Hamlet, II ii

We’re all bounded in nutshells at the moment. At an early stage in the pandemic, my best friend needed to self-isolate for 14 days and fared remarkably well:  she had, she explained, more time to read and, for her, that was a luxury rather than a restriction.  Her experience was, of course, ‘more complicated than that’ but I can’t help feeling that it’s been beneficial to be a reader during the last few months.

As a teenager, I’d been given to feel that English Literature was a less worthy academic choice than Science or Engineering.  My degree had been an indulgence, supporting interests which are merely hobbies – reading fiction and theatre-going.   Continue reading →

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Dawn chorus

Posted on May 8, 2020 by lesleyjonesberry

I wake frequently at night.  It’s nothing new – I don’t think my depth of sleep ever recovered from the disturbance of having babies, while menopausal hot flushes have, more recently, put paid completely to long continuous stretches.  I don’t mind:  in fact I love the fact that, as I look at the clock and register the early hours, I realise I can turn to sleep once more. Continue reading →

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Things Unseen

Posted on March 29, 2020 by lesleyjonesberry

And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
Had the look of flowers that are looked at.

TS Eliot, Burnt Norton.

Venice must be exquisitely beautiful at the moment. The resident population is low, so the streets will be so quiet. The hotels must be empty, the daily surge of visitors is halted, the cruise ships are stopped. La Serenissima must be genuinely peaceful, almost deserted. Continue reading →

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