Time to wear Purple: My favourite things.

Obviously raindrops on roses etc - but there are a few others not quite so obvious: poetry, F1, trashy romantic novels and writing. Apart from F1 there are clear links - all to do with language and words. When I was thinking about what to write tonight it seemed like a homework task. I couldn't think of anything to say. And this should not be a task - not if I want to continue on this journey of discovery and memory. This should always be a joyous time when the words come fast and furious, no cliche left unturned, no sparing of emotion. This is , perhaps, the most honest thing I have ever done.

So - not many words from me tonight - instead I want to share some of my favourites, in poetry and in images.

Not this year's car and not Alonso - glory days with Schumacher. The sound of the engine makes me feel like Mr. Toad going, "Poop, poop", before he runs away with yet another car.

My favourite book - to be revisited at least twice a year for differing reasons: sometimes to rejoice with Mole at his homecoming and love Rattie for his sensibility. Sometimes for Mr. Toad and bubble and squeak and his battle for Toad Hall. But sometimes just for the sheer poetry of two sections of the book: The Piper at the Gates of Dawn and the section where Rat feels the call of the sea and adventures faraway from the Riverbank.

So, a racing car and book about talking animals - but then there are the poets, Donne, Vaughan, Shakepseare. Very hard to choose a favourite but I think it must be this one.

THE GOOD-MORROW.
by John Donne

I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved ? were we not wean'd till then ?
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly ?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den ?
'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ;
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear ;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone ;
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ;
Let us possess one world ; each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest ;
Where can we find two better hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west ?
Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally ;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I
Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.

Source:
Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, ed.
London: Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 3.

I am not even going to try and explain - it is like a puzzle that you need to follow through to its conclusion. Believe me when I say it is worth it.

These paintings had a profound effect on me. My very dear friend Peter had taken me to the Tate Modern. I am not a fan of the abstract and am not really art aware. It is more of the 'I know what like', comment from me. We walked through a fabulous space with clever, ironic and downright odd paintings and sculpture. And then Peter took to the entrance of the Rothko room and left me alone for a moment. I looked at these paintings and I wept. It was a physical connection without knowing anything of the context or even who Rothko was. I had to rearrange my thoughts on the power of the abstract. Like Donne, not easy but worth the effort.

You may notice that these are all men and the strong minded post modernist feminists will be sure that I'll let the side down and rave about Jilly Cooper (which I could, quite happily). But no - my last favourite was the woman who ruled, cajoled, flirted and loved her country like the mother pelican used so often in the iconography of her image. An image that she fiercely protected and kept as a potent reminder of her royalty and her strength. An image that no-one until Princess Diana had created and used with such power and intelligence.

And there I think we'll leave it - with good Queen Bess astride her territories.

One last thing ... the first line of this is written on Mum's headstone - it was her favourite and as she was my most favourite person in the world it is only right she gets to have the last word.THE LOVE SONG OF J. ALFRED PRUFROCK