changeling67: (Default)

 
 
Spring feels like it is here, with the first semi warm and sunny days since September last.  I have to fight the urge to go out and catch some shots of the first shoots of spring.  Chapter 2 isn't exactly in the bag - in fact, I posted it with great trepidation as a cry for help (messy beyond belief and I couldn't get past rearranging the same old crap).  Now I have some breathing space, it is time to go through and write up crucial notes for Chapter 3, rather than sit around letting the grass grow under my feet.

Some good and not so good news about my former fellow students.  On the NSGN front - a student who was an FdA from my old college dropped out re discrepancies about her work.  A genuine mistake on her part and it got to such a position, she dropped out in December.  I am glad to hear she is doing well and in a nice job, but ultimately very disappointing.  Her running partner also is struggling, as she took English with Politics and is finding it a strain, not to mention quite alienating.  On a brighter note, another fellow Truro colleague, who graduated last September has passed his teacher training literary test and the all important evil maths test - closer steps in becoming a teacher.  I am very pleased for him, think he will do a good job, too.

Anyway it's tappitty tap time :-)

22:57
I have written out 2,633 words today and barely made a dent (just over 10% of it) but it should settle soon, because it is about fleshing key characters out and that will be narrowing down shortly.  I have to concentrate on the relationships with the protagonists' key mother figures and add the others in as incidentals, as and when.  Dead tired now and I have Prodigal 1 and  granddaughter over tomorrow, so I won't be seeing this til about 2 in the afternoon.
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Reminds of my mother and how we used to listen to Radio 3 at six in the morning.  I was three years old and remember it like it was yesterday.
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Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
             Bird thou never wert,
      That from Heaven, or near it,
             Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

      Higher still and higher
             From the earth thou springest
      Like a cloud of fire;
             The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

      In the golden lightning
             Of the sunken sun,
      O'er which clouds are bright'ning,
             Thou dost float and run;
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.

      The pale purple even
             Melts around thy flight;
      Like a star of Heaven,
             In the broad day-light
Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight,

      Keen as are the arrows
             Of that silver sphere,
      Whose intense lamp narrows
             In the white dawn clear
Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.

      All the earth and air
             With thy voice is loud,
      As, when night is bare,
             From one lonely cloud
The moon rains out her beams, and Heaven is overflow'd.

      What thou art we know not;
             What is most like thee?
      From rainbow clouds there flow not
             Drops so bright to see
As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.

      Like a Poet hidden
             In the light of thought,
      Singing hymns unbidden,
             Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:

      Like a high-born maiden
             In a palace-tower,
      Soothing her love-laden
             Soul in secret hour
With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:

      Like a glow-worm golden
             In a dell of dew,
      Scattering unbeholden
             Its a{:e}real hue
Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view:

      Like a rose embower'd
             In its own green leaves,
      By warm winds deflower'd,
             Till the scent it gives
Makes faint with too much sweet those heavy-winged thieves:

      Sound of vernal showers
             On the twinkling grass,
      Rain-awaken'd flowers,
             All that ever was
Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.

      Teach us, Sprite or Bird,
             What sweet thoughts are thine:
      I have never heard
             Praise of love or wine
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

      Chorus Hymeneal,
             Or triumphal chant,
      Match'd with thine would be all
             But an empty vaunt,
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.

      What objects are the fountains
             Of thy happy strain?
      What fields, or waves, or mountains?
             What shapes of sky or plain?
What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?

      With thy clear keen joyance
             Languor cannot be:
      Shadow of annoyance
             Never came near thee:
Thou lovest: but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.

      Waking or asleep,
             Thou of death must deem
      Things more true and deep
             Than we mortals dream,
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?

      We look before and after,
             And pine for what is not:
      Our sincerest laughter
             With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

      Yet if we could scorn
             Hate, and pride, and fear;
      If we were things born
             Not to shed a tear,
I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.

      Better than all measures
             Of delightful sound,
      Better than all treasures
             That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

      Teach me half the gladness
             That thy brain must know,
      Such harmonious madness
             From my lips would flow
The world should listen then, as I am listening now.
changeling67: (Default)


One of Mozart's most beautiful pieces; I heard on the Inspector Morse episode 'Fat Chance' and just now on Classic FM.
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From their website
On the 130th anniversary of the founding of Banco Sabadell we wanted to pay homage to our city by means of the campaign "Som Sabadell" (We are Sabadell) . This is the flashmob that we arranged as a final culmination with the participation of 100 people from the Vallès Symphony Orchestra, the Lieder, Amics de l'Òpera and Coral Belles Arts choirs.

Benedictus

Apr. 21st, 2014 09:17 am
changeling67: (Default)


Beautiful music for the Easter weekend, but becomes even more special when the choir join in around 3:52 - worth listening to :-)
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I am sure they play a version of this on HBO's 'Carnivale.'
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This music was one of my first ever memories - my mother used to be an avid Radio 3 listener and all of her aunts and uncles had a fine supply of classical music.  Sometimes I think that some pieces have almost been embossed upon my brain stem LOL :-)
changeling67: (Default)


Passio Domini Nostri J.C. Secundum Evangelistam Matthaeum translates to "The Passion of our Lord J[esus] C[hrist] according to the Evangelist Matthew."

I have wanted to know the title/composer of this music for over two decades.  Thanks to Classic FM, I have found it.  It was on my favourite episode of 'Inspector Morse' - Who Killed Harry Field? The music just reminds me of the wonderful Freddie Jones, who played the grieving Harry Field Snr and who sometimes reminds me unbearably of my father.

Beautiful :-)
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