snippets

At orchestra, several weeks ago, I came into possession of a ceremonial bugle once owned by David George Hall Esq., High Sheriff of Glamorganshire 1927-28. The mouthpiece is attached with a little chain. There's metal loops for a carrying strap. At some point in its 93 years, someone sat on it. It was being furtively shopped round the brass in the hopes that one of us would Make It Go Away; I felt sorry for it. (This is why I own at least two other somewhat sad and somewhat squashed brass instruments that honestly probably ought be allowed to retire to the great pit in the sky.) I... have no idea what to do with it, but I should probably do something. I am tempted to see if I can persuade my middle brother he wants it.


While haunting charity shops in search of cutlery this afternoon, I found a Shaun Tan I'd been previously completely unaware of for £2.99 and... acquired it. Title: The Singing Bones. Concept: he's taken a couple of paragraphs from each of the Grimms' Fairy Tales, made a sculpture illustrating some aspect of them, and then very carefully lit and photographed it. It is, as might be expected from Tan, quite peculiar; I dithered over it for a long time, not entirely sure whether it appealed to me, but the more I looked at it the more I wanted to look at it from the comfort of my own sofa in the absence of (1) muzak and (2) a nearby alarm, and thus in despite of my own Best Intentions regarding Not Acquiring More Books until I've read some of the existing ones... it has now joined the pile of hardbacks on the sofa for reading Real Soon Now. (There's another pile on the coffee table, and a pile of paperbacks on the arm of the sofa, and another pile of paperbacks on the TV unit, plus the half-shelf of Things I Want To Read on the bookcase, and that is before we even get into the ebook collection. But I am, at least, managing to not add volumes I'm not Actively Enthusiastic about, so that's something.)