Monday 23 September 2024

'my apologies to time' (the sun seems to have gone out of the sky)

'may my dead be patient with the way my memories fade...' - from under one small star by wislawa szymborska.

horsemouth imagines you reading this so he changes it into an appropriate tense. rainy day yesterday, rainy today, rainy day tomorrow.

this, a mostly written the day before blogpost. 

sitting in the pub garden in hereford on saturday while waiting for the bus back horsemouth started reading yesterday morning by diana athill (following his purchase of it in oxfam about a half an hour prior). it's in a cutesy granta hardback edition. 

it begins with the wislawa szymborska poem from which horsemouth quotes the second line. horsemouth knows that her name is really spelled wisÅ‚awa with a line through the l indicating a 'wuh' a voiced sound, he also knows that here w is said as v.  after horsemouth recommended her the end and the beginning a friend recommended her nothing twice. but it (or the translation at least) didn't do it for horsemouth. 

perhaps the third line of the poem would have been better;

'my apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second.'

when he read it horsemouth was in a booth at the back of the pub garden. the earlier rain had wetted the seat cushions at the edges. he was anxious about getting back to his mum's house before darkness fell (there not being any streetlighting in the countryside). 

outside (in the now of the writing of this) it has just started raining again in earnest. horsemouth believes it is due to rain in london also - he does hope his neighbour from two doors down in the basement is not flooded out again. he has continued reading the athill on this another rainy day. 

like many books by diana athill yesterday... begins with death and then moves on to memory (specifically her memories of her childhood). horsemouth has alive, alive oh! (in granta paperback) with him here and somewhere towards the end (the first one he read) in london somewhere. 

on this day in 1871 kilvert's hopes are dashed 'the sun seems to have gone out of the sky'. 

it is the morning. it's another rainy day. 

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