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Candia Comes Clean

~ Candid cultural comments from the Isles of Wonder

Tag Archives: Valentine card

A Minimum of Kindness

04 Sunday Mar 2018

Posted by Candia in art, Arts, History, Literature, Nostalgia, Poetry, Relationships, Romance, Social Comment, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

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Adam and Eve, Boldwood and Bathsheba, Burden stitch, cloths of Heaven, crewel, Die Walkure, George Bernard Shaw, Kelmscott, May Morris, Pre-Raphaelite, Primrose Hill, Sergius and Raina, Sparling, Superman, The Golden Stair, Tree of Life, Valentine card

A Minimum of Kindness

 

(May Morris, 1872.  Wikipedia.  Rossetti Archive; Bridgeman Images)

 

George Bernard Shaw:

 

She felt we had a mystic betrothal.

Her eyes betrayed some kind of assent.

Well, like her card, I found her quite handsome.

She asked for a minimum of kindness.

 

She’d shown maidens worshipping at my shrine,

but I was with a mature woman then.

Did she want me to cast cloths of heaven,

such as she embroidered, under her feet?

 

I tried to tread softly on all her dreams.

I was a bachelor then and too poor

to act as Sergius to her Raina.

(I hadn’t written my wretched play yet!)

 

Only a Superman could support her.

One minute she was roof-riding Kelmscott;

then absorbed as a domestic goddess,

designing tangles of honeysuckle,

 

which I now realise is dependent

and not parasitic, as I once feared.

Hmm, should women send men Valentine cards?

I think she had read too many novels.

 

I was no Boldwood to her Bathsheba.

She married Sparling in a fit of pique!

At least we remained friends.  I went to see

her when he was away. We walked over

 

Primrose Hill; listened to Die Walküre.

I was marginally more excited

than staying at home to watch my paint dry.

Now she stands alone on The Golden Stair.

 

Later she wrote and made sure that I knew

that she was a remarkable woman.

Was this to stick a crewel into me,

pricking the Burden stitch into my heart?

 

How many times did May sew that Tree of Life?

I would not play Adam to her Eve:

it was a matter of independence,

but this Tree finally caused my downfall.

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Judge Not That Ye Be Not Judged

05 Sunday Jan 2014

Posted by Candia in Arts, Education, Humour, Literature, Philosophy, Psychology, Religion, Romance, Social Comment, Suttonford, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Angelica Kauffman, Anglo-Catholic, Bartolozzi, Borders, Bradford on Avon, Calvin, Calvin Klein, Coolidge, egg tempera, Freudian, Giclee print, Grey Gowrie, High Renaissance, Holy Family, Judge not.., Louis XVI sofa, Magi, magic bullet, Murgatroyd, Pele Tower, Post Tenebris Lux, silver bullet, Snap!, Tam Dalyell, The National Gallery shop, To Kill A Mockingbird, Valentine card, werewolves

Augustus Snodbury had returned to school early, in order to oversee

the logistics of the opening of the new term.  This left Dru and her

mother to have a final girlie weekend in Bradford-on-Avon.

After the Christmas tree needles had been vacuumed and the baubles

and wreaths put away, Diana burned the card from her ex-husband on

the open fire.  She always recognised who its sender was as, apart from

the calligraphic penmanship, the subject was always vaguely Anglo-

Catholic, High Renaissance and probably came from The National

Gallery‘s sale.  The Holy Family or something deeply ironic, given

their own dysfunctionality.

She never returned the compliment.

Was that the one from that odious and oleaginous man who once lived

with us?  Dru asked her mother, over a sloe gin.  I often wonder why

you married him.

I often wonder that myself, but at the time, I didn’t feel that I had many

other options, Diana confessed.

What really happened, Mum? Dru leant forward, picking a pine needle

off the rug.

Well, I only married Murgatroyd on the rebound.  You see, being in a state

of infanticipation, I was very vulnerable.

Why didn’t you marry Dad?

Wounded pride, Dru.  I was mortified that I had sent him a declaration of

love in the form of a Valentine card, and he hadn’t returned one.  It’s like

revealing your hand and no one shouting: Snap!

But we’ve been through that, Dru broke in impatiently.  He had. You

just didn’t get it.  Delivery malfunction.

I know that now, but, at the time I was distraught.

And so how did you become involved with that man?  I’m referring to

the one who has ensconced himself in a converted Pele tower in the

Borders and is trying to live the aesthetic life of Tam Dalyell, or Grey

Gowrie, but sans the brain cells, or political acumen.

As for ‘Grey’- that sounds like a wolf, doesn’t it?

It’s a long story, but I suppose I should have told you ages

ago.  Mind you, you never asked.

I’m asking now.

All right.  The boarding house accommodation was rather bleak and

so I had attended a local mid-week auction on my free afternoon..

You had free afternoons then?  Dru was amazed.

Technically, but it was rare for one to be able to take them.  Anyway,

I bought a self-portrait by Angelica Kauffman, to cheer myself up.  The

one over the mantelshelf in my bedroom.

Angelica Kauffmann by Angelica Kauffmann.jpg

But it’s only a print, Dru observed.

Yes, but I liked the frame, though it required a bit of restoration.

So you took it to Quarto Street, to Syylk, for re-gilding?

Precisely.  I stood in a short queue, waiting to see the restorer.  I

thought he’d be an elderly gentleman, since it was his name over

the shop. As it was, it turned out to be his son’s business.

I began to feel queasy and faint and he sat me down on a Louis XVI

repro sofa (everything was fake about the man, as I subsequently

discovered) and he gave me a glass of water.

He identified my picture as a Giclee print by Bartolozzi, and said that the

title of the picture was ‘The Angel’, punning on the name of the artist.

He then flattered me by saying how appropriate the picture was for one

so angelic and other nonsense:  ‘A charming image for a heavenly

customer.’

Not Snod’s style then!  He wouldn’t know how to be smarmy.

No.  Syylk was so smooth that, after he had ministered to my

needs.. No, not in that way!  Diana was shocked.  He took me out a

few times in his open top Sports car and the proposal was rapidly

forthcoming.

You accepted to spite Dad?

In a way, but motivation is always more complex than the outsider can

interpret, Diana replied wisely.

Cover of the book showing title in white letters against a black background in a banner above a painting of a portion of a tree against a red background

Dru had been overseeing her girls’ homework on ‘To Kill A Mockingbird‘,

so she was familiar with the concept.  You have to walk in someone

else’s shoes..

..before you judge them- yes.

I’m not judging you, Mum- except that it was harsh to expect a man to

bring up another guy’s child.

But, he never knew!

Then I am judging you, Mum!  Heavens to Murgatroyd!

Well, I paid the price in an unfortunate marriage. At least Angelica

Kauffman’s husband died in 1795, but my ex persists.

Yes, he hung around too long- like an egg tempera which has gone off,

to use a technical term congruent with his profession. I will admit that.

I suppose that was your penance.

Oh well.  ‘Post Tenebris Lux’, as Calvin said.

Calvin?

The Reformer.

Oh yeah. Not Klein?

Not Klein and not Coolidge, nor a cartoon jungle feline.

John Calvin by Holbein.png

What do they teach the teachers nowadays?  Diana sometimes

despaired.  She had tried to warn Drusilla off the teaching profession,

but she would bite the bullet, albeit a not too silvery one.  Come to think

of it, she herself had bitten the silver one, but, thankfully hadn’t needed a

magic one.  Maybe she should have had the one inscribed with the Holy

Family’s names, which was supposed to ward off werewolves such as

Syylk.

She looked down at her hands and realised that she was no longer wearing

her wedding and engagement rings.  It wasn’t just all that washing up over

Christmas.  Something Freudian was going on.

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My name is Candia. Its initial consonant alliterates with “cow” and there are connotations with the adjective “candid.” I started writing this blog in the summer of 2012 and focused on satire at the start.

Interspersed was ironic news comment, reviews and poetry.

Over the years I have won some international poetry competitions and have published in reputable small presses, as well as reviewing and reading alongside well- established poets. I wrote under my own name then, but Candia has taken me over as an online persona. Having brought out a serious anthology last year called 'Its Own Place' which features poetry of an epiphanal nature, I was able to take part in an Arts and Spirituality series of lectures in Winchester in 2016.

Lately I have been experimenting with boussekusekeika, sestinas, rhyme royale, villanelles and other forms. I am exploring Japanese themes at the moment, my interest having been re-ignited by the recent re-evaluations of Hokusai.

Thank you to all my committed followers whose loyalty has encouraged me to keep writing. It has been exciting to meet some of you in the flesh- in venues as far flung as Melbourne and Sydney!

Copyright Notice

© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Candia Dixon Stuart and candiacomesclean.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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