Cabinet of Curiosities

Tags

cabinet of curiosities, Calypso Carol, Carmen, Daily Mail, Easter Island, Financial Times, Hawaiian shirt, huzun, Istanbul, Moai, Monteverdi, Nobel Prize, Orhan Pamuk, oxymoron, Panama hat, Rolls Royce, Royal Yacht, Simon Schama, Singer sewing machine, The Longs Arms, Weekend Magazine

I always feel guilty when I destroy the barista’s carefully created fern on the

top of my coffee, but, then, one has to drink the frothy arrangement.

Goodness knows, one has paid enough for it, especially at Costamuchamoulah

must-seen cafe.   At least The Financial Times Weekend magazine can be

appropriated from the public wall rack, to compensate.  The Yummies always

go for The Daily Mail, I find.

Oh, the ecstasy of finding Simon Schama and Orhan Pamuk in the same article.

I loved the novel Istanbul and was fascinated by the concept of huzun, a state

of collective memory.

Pamuk has gathered a series of objects which he stores and displays in

cabinets and these items resonate with memory traces of significant moments

in his characters’ lives.  Once these memories are categorised, they can be

stored and owned.

I wondered if I could rent or purchase a building in Suttonford where I could

collect objects connected with the narrative of my characters’ lives?

Re-winding some of my posts, I could imagine the first vitrines exhibiting a

crystal ball which belonged to Sonia, the medium who lives in Royalist House.

An empty bottle of Dewlap’s Gin for the Discerning Grandmother would

represent Sonia’s neighbour, Ginevra.  The latter’s e-novel based on a meeting

of geriatric hearts and minds could be referred to by a mobility scooter, which,

of course, would take up a large glass box on its own- something like the one

which protected HM’s Rolls Royce on The Royal Yacht, Britannia.

Doomed romance would be conveyed by the original Valentine, complete with

its proposal of marriage (never received) which the youthful Augustus

Snodbury slid under the nubile lax mistress, Diana Fotheringay’s door all those

troubled years ago.  The diamond ring which fell down the cracks in the

floorboards at The Longs Arms, but which was recovered, though not without

embarrassment, would also speak volumes to the tender-hearted.

Perhaps there could be an unmade bed which still belongs to Tiger-Lily and a

string of knitted women bishops which was removed from the cathedral

railings in Wintoncester, having been yarn-bombed there by Juniper, the

increasingly famous, gender-fluid, street graffiti artist.

The town’s canine lovers might donate a diamante pug collar belonging to

Pooh-Bah and the ever-present risk of animal vandalism might be portrayed

by the photograph of the priceless Pre-Moai figure from Easter Island, which

Andy, the Border Terrier so thoroughly digested.

Academic life could be shown by the Hawaiian shirt which one of the

Willoughby twins wore when he played the solo marimba in The Calypso Carol

at the end of term concert at St Birinus, and which provoked a caution

regarding the upholding of school rules regarding uniform.

Staying on a musical theme, the programme notes for the Monteverdi concert

in Bath which so riveted Drusilla, Diana and Gus would be interesting to study

in future years, as the cast list so clearly displayed Geoffrey Poskett and Nigel

Milford- Haven, of whom much more has to be said in future posts.

Snod’s battered Panama hat, which he sat on inadvertently at the

aforementioned concert and which Nigel effectively ruined by wearing it

when painting his mother’s bathroom ceiling, should be juxtaposed to set

up a dialogue with the alternative headgear which Nigel’s mother fished out

of her black sack and gave to him to wear to the opera, Carmen.  Placed side

by side, the museum-goer should be able to detect that this hat which Nigel,

or Caligula as he is affectionately called by the children in his care, is going to

return duplicitously to his older colleague in lieu of the original- oh, drat, I’ve

given away the plot..- will be seen to be a size seven and a quarter, and not

the seven and three quarters which Snod has always sported on his rather

large dome of a head.

History, and family history at that, will be brought to life by the inclusion of a

Singer sewing machine which belonged to Jean Waddell, Carrie’s maternal

grandmother.

I am excited by the prospect of making the intangible tangible.  Oxymoron

creates such dynamic tension!

Thank you for the idea, Orhan.  I won’t expect a Nobel Prize for it as it would

be akin to plagiarism, but imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

(To understand the exophoric references and intertextuality of this entry,

please refer to previous posts!)

Big Bang!

Tags

Big Bang, Black Hole, Border, bottling, boutique gin, Brassica, craft gin, flugelhorn, FT, Horizon, Kirstie Allsopp, Milford-Haven, Nobel Prize, preserving, Volvo

Brassica was collecting the twins from St Birinus Middle School.  The Autumn term was frantic.  She had so much bottling and preserving to do in the afternoons, even though there was a dearth of some fruits after the rainy early summer.  It was also a real nuisance that EU legislation was making it very difficult to sell her jams and jellies in the table top sales on behalf of the Parents Who Care Association. What was the world coming to when a member of airline security had fairly recently confiscated her damson jelly, with its pretty calligraphy label, which she had specifically made for an ex-pat friend?  She felt as though she was being treated as a terrorist.

But it isn’t liquid- look!  It has set beautifully.

The security frisker had looked as if she should take the argument no further.

Hello, anybody!  Do you want a free jar of jelly?

There were no takers and she had to watch the jar being consigned to a transparent bin.  Privately she bet that, as soon as the shift was over, the staff would be having lovely jam on their airport croissants.  Or maybe they would be too afraid of being poisoned.  Really! She thought of the school bully’s nickname for Castor, but then put it out of her mind.

She had been out early that morning, walking the family Border and had discovered some hugely plump sloes, so she filled her mini-trug with them and hid them under a new packet of poo bags, just in case she met anyone else and it gave the game away as to the spiny bushes’ location.

By three o’clock, they had been pricked with a thorn; sugar had been measured and they were added to some cheap gin – not from Pop My Cork!  That would have been too expensive.  The bottles were now laid down in the cellar, awaiting festive consumption.

The FT had re-assured her that she was ahead of trend yet again.  An article discussed how gin sales had risen by 27% over the past year or so and, in particular, boutique or craft gins.

She had been puzzled by these neologisms, but then the penny dropped: these were the good, old hedgerow tipples that she had been making for years, to her grandma’s recipes.

She felt that Kirstie Allsopp would have approved of her thrift, but then she wondered why that should matter.

As she drove around the semi-circular school drive, which was one-way, she glared at John’s mother’s Volvo.  John was sticking his tongue out at the twins.

Is that boy still bullying you? she asked.

Yes-no. We don’t mind. Actually he is very funny.  He got into trouble today in Assembly.

Oh, why? asked Brassie, genuinely pleased.

He was singing:

All things wise and wonderful

The Big Bang made them all..

He had to write an punishment essay at lunchbreak, which he said violated his human rights, especially as he has learning disabilities, but Caligula, we mean Mr Milford-Haven said that it was, nevertheless, an A*.

A*! Humph! grunted Brassie, almost making contact with the car in front’s bumper, which just happened to be the same Volvo which we described previously.

John said that there was an expandable universe before the Big Bang and then it bounced, just like a cricket ball.  Then there was infinite expansion, said Castor.

Infinite expansion of that child’s ego! muttered Brassie.  He simply stole all of that from ‘Horizon’    I saw it the other night. Mr Milford-Haven should mention the dangers of plagiarism in his end of term report.

But sometimes boys that get very poor reports end up getting the Nobel Prize, do they not, Mum?

Don’t you two assume anything.  Daddy and I expect wonderful reports about you or else.. She couldn’t think of any sanction, but then.. or else, she repeated, no new cricket pads.

We are both second top equal for Science.

Brassie dumped their satchels in the hall, along with the flugelhorn case.

Who’s top? she tried to sound nonchalant.

Don’t worry: Ferdy.  John’s third.

There was a puddle in the hall which she had to step over.   Wretched Border!

Mind out! she cautioned and went down to the cellar to fetch a bucket and mop.

The twins heard a cry of dismay.  They climbed down the steps.  There had been a Big Bang in the cellar.  The sloe gin had exploded and there was glass and chaos everywhere.

Oh, Mum, that’s just what John said.  Infinite expansion, commented Pollux.

You should have left some room at the top of the bottles, lectured Castor.

Brassie could have consigned them both to a Black Hole.  She stepped back into the puddle:

Shut up and go and do your prep!

And that was because she was a Very Bad Parent.