Random Distractions

My son brought some Bath Ales for us to sample at Christmas and very delicious they were, my favourite being Gem. Pop over to The Dabbler now for your chance to win a case. Even if you don't win, you will receive some recipes.  Watch this space for the results of my culinary efforts.

I have an embarrassing admission to make: I have never worn earrings. Having had rather troublesome ears since early childhood, involving me in lots of unpleasant treatments and several operations, I would never willingly undergo any procedure that would inflict unnecessary pain upon the tender lobes.

But........ I've just received a really pretty ruby pendant........

Readers of Random Distractions have been offered a discount on purchases of Ugg boots. Sarah at Whooga has created a gift card for us to spend on their website. It is worth $30 USD or £15 GBP. Just enter the code RANDOMIST in the box in the cart to claim the discount.

Home is Marilynne Robinson's third novel and, like the previous one, is set in the fictional Iowa town of Gilead. In fact it is the same story as Gilead but told from a different perspective: that of the Boughton family and black-sheep Jack's place in it. This is neither a sequel nor prequel to Gilead but rather a companion piece. it is as if Jane Austen had written Emma and then written the same story through the eyes of Mr Knightley.

Marilynne Robinson's use of a third person narrator in Home, allows us to closely observe the thoughts and feelings of the three members of the Boughton family who are caught up in the brief action of the book. Close observation is Marilynne Robinson's forte and reading her work is like looking at the many facets of a diamond with the aid of an expert jeweller.

The basic facts of Jack Boughton's story are already known to anyone who has first read Gilead; the reader, therefore, knows more than do Jack's father, the frail Reverend Boughton, and Glory, the youngest member of the family who has returned home to care for her father. We readers are, therefore, not concerned about the unfolding of a plot because we already know the secrets and can concentrate on the characters: their relationships, their reasons for keeping secrets, their misunderstandings and reactions to revelations.

The prose is exquisite, as we would expect from the woman who is described as "one of the greatest living novelists" by Bryan Appleyard. I finished both of her books (I have Housekeeping to look forward to as my Christmas treat to myself) with the feeling that I had experienced rather than read them:


This passage illustrates Marilynne Robinson's ability to convey a world of detail in a minimum of words. In years to come, when her books are required reading for students of literature, long essays will be written about short paragraghs such as this.

I would love to discuss many aspects of Home with other readers. It would make a wonderful choice for a book group. The meaning of "home", judgement, forgiveness, belonging and exclusion are just a few of the themes begging to be discussed in depth. My admiration for her writing does not prevent me from disagreeing quite strongly with Marilynne Robinson's points of view on some issues. But I won't go into that here. If you haven't yet read it, I suggest that you put it high on your wish list. Then perhaps might we have an on-line book group discussion in the New Year.

This will be an inadequate post about the picture that we brought home from Appledore on Friday (see previous post). Inadequate, because my skills with the camera are not up to the task.

One of the reasons for our visit to Appledore was to see the exhibition of paintings by Hester Berry, a former pupil of my husband. Hester recently graduated from the School of Art at the University of Wales and is going on to further study at Wimbledon.

When my husband retired from teaching, the school commissioned this painting of our local Crow Point, from Hester.
Here is the painting we bought: Barnstaple from the Taw Bridge. My photograph doesn't convey the size, colours or grandeur of the piece. You will just have to come and see it for yourself! We are sure that Hester Berry is an artist we will be hearing a great deal about in the future.I do hope so.

What could be nicer (other than knowing you'll soon be setting out to have lunch with someone special) than to open the door to the postman holding this intriguing pile of packages when it isn't even your birthday?

I just had to sit and admire them for a while before opening.

And here, in all their glory, the contents!

I know I said I wouldn't buy any more books until my TBR pile had diminished, I even tried giving them up for Lent, so here is my public, shaming confession - as Dorcas might say: "Books are my one weakness!"

The beautiful new books are my first from Persephone, I have resisted their enticing catalogue for a long time because I want to own them all. The lovely unopened package is Persephone's gift to me for buying three titles at once. I do know what is inside but I'm going to resist opening it until I am in need of cheering and, with all those other books to get through, I don't need a special treat just yet.

Just to balance the books (forgive the pun), I have followed the link to ReadItSwapIt, from 60goingon16, joined up and exchanged six books in as many days. The two books at the bottom of the pile are swaps I've just received. I feel very virtuous when trotting off to the post office with my swaps, knowing that I am recycling and helping to save the village post office at the same time. (I'm not all bad!) Now I'm off for that lunch.

We have just folded 6' 2" of Andrew into the back of Tanith's overloaded car and waved them off. Christmas is officially over for us and the house seems so quiet and empty. I could start on the laundry and clearing up, I could start on the thank you letters, there is a lot of USEFUL stuff I could be doing but it will still be there to be done tomorrow, so I'll catch up with my virtual friends instead.

Thank you for all the kind greetings. I hope you have all had as good a time as we have. I hope that journeys were trouble-free, family gatherings full of fun and good cheer, food delicious and beverages as intoxicating or refreshing as you desired and that everyone had lots of 'good swag'.

Our festive time always ends with a drive into the country on December 27th. Friend Keith lives in Plymouth, exactly 100 miles from our door to his and every year we meet up at a country inn for lunch and our 'traditional Christmas walk'. For a number of years, we've been meeting at the 11th century Church House Inn in Rattery. This meant a drive of 70 miles for us and 30 for Keith and eventually the cries of "not fair" worked and we started to look for an alternative, more equitable meeting place. It had to be a traditional inn with log fires and great food, with good walks and an interesting old church to visit. Google helped me find the perfect place: The Five Bells Inn at Clyst Hydon, exactly halfway between Keith's house and ours.

Yesterday, after a superb lunch, we walked through the lanes and spent some time exploring the village church of St Andrew. This is a far more modern building than the church at Rattery, being a mere 600+ years old, but it is still worth a visit. We particularly liked the box pews, dating from 1832. Our favourite feature of Rattery church was an ancient, yellowed poster depicting the 'Rules of the Church'. Written in beautiful Gothic script, they told worshippers exactly how to behave, starting with our favourite, oft quoted "Kneel on your knees".

And now it's all over: the festive meals, the carols, the visits and exchanging of gifts; our visitors have left and the house is so quiet. I suppose I could go and start on the chores but perhaps today would be better spent in reading some of my new books - I expect you are all doing that!

I mentioned earlier that my 'good swag' included a book of reflections for Advent and Christmas. The first of those reflections was on the gift of hope which, according to GK Chesterton, is "the last gift given to man, and the only gift not given to youth." This struck me as an unusual observation at first; is youth not the time of optimism and enthusiasm? I pondered this for a while and came to understand his viewpoint: youth is the time when "...the end of every episode is the end of the world." How well I remember those hopeless endings!

So, I have to agree with GK that "the power of hoping through everything" comes in middle age and that it is "from the backs of elderly gentlemen that the wings of the butterfly should burst."


(I am aware that this post does not contain inclusive language but then, GK Chesterton lived in very un-PC times! I'm also conscious of the fact that I have written the venerable name several times and the GKC police will be after me again. If you have been offended by this post, please don't send me nasty emails, I've had enough.)

One of our less than gracious family traditions is to sit and admire our shopping purchases or gifts we have received. We call it 'gloating time' and, having paraded and extolled the virtues of the said items, the owner dons a smug smile and says "Good swag!" Yes, I know it's pathetic but it's what we do!

I'm sitting with a smug smile looking at some of the good swag I received for my birthday, yesterday. One glance will tell you how well my nearest and dearest know my tastes: I have books to read, notebooks to write in and a bottle of Baileys. A late-November birthday is the perfect excuse for lazy self-indulgence.

My son always manages to buy books that he knows I won't have read but will enjoy. Here he has chosen Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey and Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky. Peter Carey is the only Australian writer that I can think of, which is undoubtedly more of an indictment of my knowledge than of Australian literary talent. I read and enjoyed his Jack Maggs a couple of years ago, thanks again to Andrew's choice of gift.

His second choice, Irene Nemirovsky's Suite Francaise, is described as "a masterwork of literary accomplishment" in the Sunday Times. Irene Nemirovsky was born in Russia into a rich, Jewish family. They fled the Russian Revolution to Paris, where Irene became a successful writer. She planned to write a sequence of novels about the experiences of ordinary people living through the occupation but she died in Auswitch in 1942 before completing them. The two completed works, Storm in June, set in Paris, and Dolce, set in a small rural community, were discovered and published as Suite Francaise in 2004.

My third treat is Advent and Christmas: Wisdom from G.K. Chesterton, a gift from MBFIATW, Crinny. This will provide daily reading for reflection during December. (We claim a very tenuous family connection with GK: our nephew,Allister is married to one of his distant relatives!) I love this picture of Chesterton from the book's Introduction, "In him was a humor akin to humility: a humor that delighted in life but refused to take the enigma of being human too seriously, a joyous humour with a sane estimate of itself and others, a holy humor that lived lightly because it trusted God for maintaining the universe." He would have been a most welcome visitor on Random Distractions!

The gorgeous notebooks and diary are from my husband and daughter, who know that I love writing on beautiful paper and that purple is one of my favourite colours.