Category Archives: Odds & Ends

Tallis versus Byrd – when you lack the appropriate vocabulary

Posted on March 15, 2015 by Scribe Doll

“You can really tell if it’s Byrd or Tallis from the first few bars?” H. likes some Early and 16th Century music, but is more of a Romantic and 20th Century man.  He likes passion in music.  I like post-white-ruff … Continue reading →

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Fifty

Posted on March 8, 2015 by Scribe Doll

One finger for every pie. One colour for every intention. The first thought that flashed through my head when I saw the gloves.  I was in a Norwich shop called ‘Head in the Clouds’ – apparently, UK’s oldest head shop.  I … Continue reading →

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Baucis and Philemon

Posted on March 1, 2015 by Scribe Doll

P. and T. kiss in public.  A swift, light peck on the lips, so full of tenderness and respect.  T. squeezes P.’s hand and he holds it, drawing strength from its warmth and reassurance.  I watch them in awe.  They … Continue reading →

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On a Train from Norwich to Cambridge

Posted on December 7, 2014 by Scribe Doll

The day is grey and very, very still, self-contained in drowsy introspection.  But maybe it’s not sleeping at all but quietly meditating, plotting an event, contemplating crafting its next miracle. The fog is blurring the silhouette of the trees, like … Continue reading →

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Clocks Take a Step Back, So Take a Step Forward

Posted on October 27, 2014 by Scribe Doll

It’s my favourite day of the year.  I go to bed with a feeling of hopeful anticipation, after setting all the clocks in the flat back by an hour.  As far as I’m concerned, I’m going to wake up to … Continue reading →

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Pandolfi’s Violin

Posted on August 17, 2014 by Scribe Doll

There’s a twinkle in the eye of the violin in Pandolfi’s sonatas.  He teases, provokes, confuses – then bursts out laughing.  An impish laugh, part-threatening,  part-joyful.  Now, he plays the notes  measuredly, mathematically, in deference to the accompanying continuo, and now … Continue reading →

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Homesick

Posted on July 13, 2014 by Scribe Doll

Wind-swept, East of England skies.  Shapeshifting clouds.  Swirls of white puff that stretch into mountains, curl into castles, swell into dragons, rise into chariots, then metamorphose into angels.  Skies mottled with lead-grey, steel-grey, velvet grey with  undertones of purple, shades … Continue reading →

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The Red Room: A Farewell

Posted on July 6, 2014 by Scribe Doll

The news of the Red Room closing down reached me at a time when I especially feel the need for continuity and something solid under my feet. I am preparing for my fourth house move in eighteen months.  A few … Continue reading →

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London Book Fair 2014

Posted on April 13, 2014 by Scribe Doll

After a warm spell, there’s an icy wind blowing through my jacket as hundreds of us are queuing to get into Earl’s Court exhibition centre.  Plastic badge cases are handed out at the entrance.  We’ve been instructed to download our … Continue reading →

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A Translator’s Point of View…*

Posted on March 2, 2014 by Scribe Doll

* Please see Part One of this story, last week,  A Bookshop for Free Thinkers …. Last Thursday, 27th February 2014. “Eat.  You need sustenance,” says Barbara, my publisher, as the tray with canapés comes towards us.  But I can’t … Continue reading →

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