Feb 07 2008

Of the way we were

Published by Fence under Books, Shiny

Image of Little House in the Big Woods

Sheila pointed out that today is Laura Ingalls Wilder’s birthday. She was born on 7th Feb 1867. And reading Sheila’s post I remembered how much i loved those books as a child.

Unlike Sheila I have no idea how old I was when I read them; I know that B#1 read them before me. The memory that stands out the most is being away on holidays in Sligo, camping at the beach, waiting for him to finish one in the series so I could start it. He’d read one then hand it over to me and I’d devour it.

And seeing as how I’m pretty sure we were camping we mustn’t have been living in Sligo. lets see, we moved when I was going in to 3rd class, that means I was what, 8 or 9? And this was either the year before or maybe more, so I was either 6 or 7. Something like that. That’s not really important though.

I don’t think I’ve ever reread them, but I can still remember certain scenes from those books as though I’d read them last week. Their dog Jake. The first trip they took on the train and Laura counting the telegraph poles so Mary would know how fast they were going, that must have been one of the later ones, as Mary was blind at then. Speaking of which, Laura’s not wanting to have to be the teacher of the family.

I must have a root around next time I’m home and see it I can find those books.

Tags: B#1, camping, childhood, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House in the Big Woods, memory, nostalgia

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Jul 29 2007

A Little Princess

Published by Fence under Moving Pictures

Dir: Alfonso Cuarón
Writ: Richard LaGravenese & Elizabeth Chandler, based on book by Frances Hodgson Burnett.

  • Liesel Matthews … Sara Crewe
  • Liam Cunningham … Capt. Crewe/Prince Rama
  • Vanessa Lee Chester … Becky
  • Eleanor Bron … Miss Minchin
  • Errol Sitahal … Ram Dass
  • Kelsey Mulrooney … Lottie

Sara Crewe lives a spoiled life in India with a devoted, doting father, until World War I intervenes, and he enlists, sending Sara off to boarding school in New York to keep her safe. There she must adjust, whereas before she had free rein to do as she pleased, now she must submit to rules and regulations that she doesn’t understand. And, most difficult for her, she must keep her imagination in check. But Sara isn’t a selfish, “poor little rich girl”, she is bright and kind, and soon makes friends with most of the other girls, from those in her class to the scullery maid. She is also the only one who can really get through to Lottie as they have both lost their mothers.

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Tags: A Little Princess, Alfonso Cuarón, awwww, based on book, childhood, Eleanor Bron, Elizabeth Chandler, Errol Sitahal, family film, Frances Hodgson Burnett, imagination, Kelsey Mulrooney, Liam Cunningham, Liesel Matthews, loss, New York, poverty, Richard LaGravenese, soldier, Vanessa Lee Chester, WWI

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May 11 2006

It’s all this stuff you’re not saying. Insinnuendos.

Published by Fence under TV

I’ve remembered what it was that it was that I was going to post yesterday but then didn’t, cause I forgot what it was. And what it was about was Wife Swap. yes I know, reality TV is the bottom of the barrel, and Wife Swap is really very contrived, with its searching out couples whose lifestyles and personal philosophies are so opposed. But still, its contrived tension and conflict is entertaining. It is much better than the US version, Trading Spouses with their over the top narration, and the importance placed on money. I’m sure that the Wife Swap couples get money, why else would you do it, but it isn’t mentioned and isn’t such a big deal throughout the show.

Watching Wife Swap really makes you wonder about people, and how its possible that ordinary everyday people can hold such beliefs, or be so arrogant and selfish that they can’t see that other people have every right to behave in a different manner to them. I know that the shows are probably edited to make certain circumstances look worse, but letting your nine year old daughter drink alcohol is probably not such a good idea. And letting her drink Wicked is a really bad one. I mean, a glass of watered wine at a meal isn’t going to do much damage is it? But starting a kid on alco-pops?

But what makes it really interesting is that you can see that some people do actually change. And that they may put up a front of “I’m right. You’re fucked up” but they do learn something.

And sometimes you see that there are really nice people out there. One of the husbands[1] in this week’s show was just such a decent fella. It was strange, normally they start out okay but then turn a bit nasty. Or are a bit horrible from the start, but this one was just nice all the way through. I don’t mean that he didn’t have arguments with the swappee, because he did. And he was the father who thought it was okay for his daughter to drink Wicked. But at the same time it was so obvious that he was doing what he thought was right. And he was just a nice bloke.

Mind you, maybe it was in comparison with the other husband, who wasn’t totally awful, but he was very much in the “I’m right, the world is wrong” mold. He and his wife had uprooted their family and lived on a remote part of some island, because they’d seen the modern world and didn’t like it. Fair enough, be that way, but then why volunteer for a show when you know you are going to have someone with very different views come into your home. And their attitude to cursing was pretty Victorian. What is so wrong with an occasional wanker ;) But I suppose getting a fluffy pink, hard, drinking, cursing swapee was a bit of a shock to his system.

Does all this mean I’ve changed my mind on reality TV? Will I now be tuning in to Big Brother when, the adverts tell me, it starts soon. Hell no! BB is the evil spawn of a soul-sucking, personality-destroying celebrity demon. It is piss. And can someone please explain how watching people sleep is now regarded as entertainment?[2]

Reality tv is rarely actually real. It is all set-up and pretend, but every now and then real life will actually peep through, and that is when it is good tv.


And don’t you just love Ray Winstone? There is a great interview with him in The Observer, and his new film All In The Game which is said to boast one of the highest expletive counts on film

we had a meeting with the Channel 4 producer about a week before we started shooting and he had the script and there were about a thousand stickers in it - blue, yellow, green, pink - and I said “What’s all that?”, and he said, green is fucking, yellow is cunt, blue is racial abuse or whatever, and he said, “We should have a cunt reduction.”

Linknotes:
  1. not really cause they weren’t married, but for all intents the husband
  2. actually don’t bother, I don’t care.
Tags: childhood, drink, grá, people, Ray Winstone, reality TV, Trading Spouses, Wife Swap

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Apr 23 2006

Aint no flies on us

Published by Fence under Family

What does one wear to a baptism? Cause that is where I am now[1] at B#1’s kid’s christening[2] and not only are clothes an issue, but also gifts. What does one buy a 3 month old baby? Not like he’s going to remember is he? And seeing as I’m to be godmother there’ll be plenty of time for future purchases.

I suppose I could name a star for the baby, but wouldn’t it be a lot easier to name a baby for a star? Or a constallation[3]

B#1 is 3 years or so older than me[4] and when we were kids he was definitely the leader of our little gang. This is when we lived in Dublin and hung around the estate and park. There was B#1, B#2, the boy next door, the boy across the street, and boy around the corner and me. Yes, being surrounded by brothers I was a bit of a tom-boy. And as the oldest B#1 was responsible for all our entertainment ;) whether that was climbing on shed roofs[5] messing about, or invading the nearby building site[6] He was also responsible for the yellow reg game. We used to travel between Dublin & Sligo quite a bit, and being squashed in a car for over three hours mean you need to play games. Or read books. Anyone else play yellow reg? Back in the day[7] the only yellow license plates were those furrin English ones. So not a whole lot of them around. When you spotted one you’d thump the person next to you saying “Yellow reg, touch my foot” and then touch your foot, meaning they couldn’t hit you back. Course B#1 figured out before all of us that any car that had a single letter, then some numbers and then more letters[8] was a British car, and so would have a yellow rear plate. I’m not sure why they didn’t/don’t have them at the front, but they didn’t. So obviously once he learned this he got really good at spotting yellow regs.

Anyways, despite the fact that none of the family read, or know about the blog[9] this is to congratulate B#1 on the birth of his son.

Linknotes:
  1. obviously not the now that I’m writing this in, but the future now that you are reading this in. Unless you are reading this after I’m home from the christening. Or on a different day.
  2. memo to self, come up with shorter name for the nephew
  3. maybe I’ll refer to kid as Perseus from now on. Maybe not
  4. I never remember their ages. They keep changing.
  5. I so wanna spell that with a v
  6. it is a prison now
  7. such a long time ago now.
  8. or maybe the other way round, I don’t really play anymore
  9. and if they do I’d prefer they not say
Tags: B#1, Baptism, childhood, christening, de gasúr, nostalgia

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Jul 20 2005

Bunk Beds and Gates

Published by Fence under Family

While over at Anne’s I got involved in a discussion on bunk beds and the harm that may, possibly, befall bunkees, which leads to this story, which you may think is totally unrelated, and you may be correct, but I don’t care.

Back when I was nothing but a childer, living in Clondalkin I had a little brother 1]. I can’t remember what age he was, but three sounds good doesn’t it? That means I would’ve been around 9. Hmm, I think he may only have been 2 so. Anyway, the age of brother #3 is irrelevant, once you know he was quite young.

So picture this little toddler wandering.. Driving his A-Team van here there and everywhere. Now picture him with his head stuck through a gate. Got that? Okay, now realise that he can’t free himself, he really is stuck.

So the mother makes an appearance, tries to free this child, with his head stuck between two white metal bars. No luck. A few neighbours gather, we lived in an estate, all offering advice[2] but to avail. The poor toddler trapped by his own head :)

Eventually some one offers a solution. Well, they offered a hacksaw. And the bar in the gate was cut through, freeing the brother. Yipee!

The question of how exactly his head had gone through the bars to end up stuck so firmly was resolved: It hadn’t!

Brother #3 had squeezed his body through, an attempt to escape no doubt, but his giant head had prevented him from making it outside the garden.

And no, of course we never teased him about it when he was older. Would a family ever stoop to reliving such trauma!!! *wounded innocence*



[1] - Yes this brother still exists. I used to be the only girl in a family of 5 boys, but around 9 years ago another female arrived. (back)

[2] - I always have to pause and figure out which is the verb and which the noun, advice or advise. (back)

Tags: A-team, B#3, childhood, head stuck in a gate, me, memory

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May 27 2005

Tatty

Published by Fence under Books

author: Christine Dwyer Hickey

I really liked this book. The writing was simple and straight-forward but wonderful. Dwyer Hickey makes Tatty, the character, come alive, and gives her a voice of her
own. A voice that is childlike, but also one that hints at the damage beneath her youth.

The book tells the story of Tatty’s dysfunctional family, her indifferent and occasionally violent parents, both with drink problems.

And that is what makes this a hard book to summarise and review. The narration is slightly strange, almost first person from Tatty’s perspective, but not quite an “I” narrator. It almost reminded me of Jeffrey Eugenides’s The Virgin Suicides, but that book left me cold and I didn’t finish it, where as this one pulls you in to the story and into Tatty’s life.

Tags: 9 Stars, childhood, Christine Dwyer Hickey, coming of age, Tatty

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