News Archives - Page 20 of 21 - Los Cuadernos de Julia

A Lingerie Guide

I must be daydreaming… but there is this article about ‘stocking fellas’ appointed by M&S. Their special and delicate duty is to help men to buy lingerie for their wives and girlfriends by offering male customers ‘man to man’ advice.

I know it can be difficult to drag a man into the lingerie section altogether, let alone to make him give his opinion on something. But if a woman cannot do that, how will another man cope?

Better still, it seems like the problem is not just about the choice of a style or fabric. The matter is even more delicate. The article mentions that M&S get ‘the highest volume of returned lingerie items after Christmas, often because they are the wrong size’.

This is a phrase from M&S spokesperson:

“If anyone is embarrassed about talking to women then these guys are on hand to help customers”.
What puzzles me, is how can a man help another man figure out what bra size the latter’s female partner is wearing, if ‘another man’ doesn’t know it himself?

Update. Richard’s comment reminded me of a totally surreal experience of buying slippers at M&S. My shoe size is 36-37 European (depending on a manufacturer’s country), which in England falls between sizes 3 and 4. With this in mind, I tried size 3 slippers, which turned out to be very small. Tried size 4 of the same model, that was OK. Being a woman, I thought I’d try another model. With previous experience in mind, I went for size 4. It was very small. Almost speechless, tried size 5 of the same, and that fitted perfectly. Out of interest, decided to try a pair of black faux leather pumps, size 3. Fitted perfectly.

Morale: either M&S are having trouble making their slippers, or I’ve got a floating shoe size. The latter is impossible, as all my shoes are in the mentioned 36-37 Eur. Sigh.

The Art of a Desktop, or Some Things to Buy (Maybe) for Christmas

When you visit Sir Paul McCartney’s official website, you begin to feel at certain point that good planning may, after all, be a key to success. Of course, exclusions apply, as Sir Paul’s latest album was apparently conceived over a cup of English tea in the backyard, where there was only a fine line between chaos and creation. [You see, I’ve listened to the album ;-)) ]. But as far as his fans are concerned, their free time is very appreciated. When you log on to the site as a member, this lovely desktop pops up right in front of you, containing everything you might need, from various photos and notes to a video of Jenny Wren. This is what it looks like:

I am sure Sir Paul’s website is a huge success among his fans, as are his songs.

Furthermore, I’ve got an email offering to buy Elvis McCartney print. The description reads:

Fantastic 20″x16″ professionally mounted print by Revolver sleeve designer Klaus Voorman. Entitled ‘Elvis McCartney’ this print was done for the ‘Run Devil Run’ album in 1998 and is said to be from the Hamburg Days when Paul dressed in leathers and resembled a young Elvis.

This print also comes with a certificate of authenticity and is perfect for framing.

And this is the print:

And this is the best thing about it – it only costs £79.99, which, to use consumerist slang, is ‘less than £80’!!! And – £80 is less that £100 (My math skills must be strong…).

I guess I am still under the impression of watching North West Tonight, where they were offering to buy the Manchester United Opus for £3.000. I mean, they were contemplating on who may buy the book, which is so thick and heavy that you can barely turn pages. Not to mention the price you have to pay, before you can embrace this page-turner.

Then again, they should’ve looked at some volumes that were produced in the past centuries, The Statutes of the Realm, a collection of the Acts of Parliament that all English scholars have to see at least once in their career. I had to read one of the volumes in the Central Library in Manchester, and by mistake gave it back, instead of keeping it on my number. Next day I had to order it again, and the librarian said to me (rather kindly, I should note):

‘If you’re still not finished with it today, don’t give it back. We have to bring it from downstairs, and it’s too heavy to carry’.

Gosh, I could write a collection of essays on visiting and working in the library. If you’re an editor reading this and would like a regular column, drop me a line.

No Tinseltown

Political correctness has already been a subject of much debate, and now it comes wrapped up as a Christmas present. I am reading on the news that this year nearly three-quarters of British firms are banning any Christmas decorations for fear of offending their non-Christian employees. They are also doing this for fear of their Christian employees hurting themselves while putting up the decorations and subsequently suing the company.

I think it might be somewhat unfortunate that this festival seems to be more important in Britain than New Year. Christmas’s original connotation is certainly religious, but why should Britain, being a Christian country, be ashamed or afraid of celebrating one of its main holidays? Moreover, it is not Britain alone who is celebrating Christmas on the 25th of December – entire Europe is apparently doing exactly the same thing.

I am sure that non-Christians who live in Britain appreciate the differences in religion more than various advisory bodies tend to believe. Two weeks ago I spoke to a Pakistani taxi driver, whose life could not be any harder. Two of his daughters’ birthdays were coming up, and both young ladies wanted a new mobile phone. The driver reckoned he would spend about £80 on each. And then he had to buy presents for his entire family here, and also for his relatives in Pakistan, and there is little wonder he was doing extra shifts to afford all this. But there was no contempt whatsoever re Christmas. He was obviously looking forward to it, despite all expenses.

Strictly speaking, Christmas, with all its decorations and festive air, is no longer a purely religious holiday. It has long become a family event, a one of those rare chances during the year when you are almost compelled to spend a few days with your loved ones. Maybe someone somewhere is deploring the fact that Christmas is now associated with *prophane* things like a family dinner or a nice long evening for two under the Christmas tree. But if you ask my opinion, I think this is what really is religious about this holiday. What can be more wonderful, spiritual and symbolic than putting up together a Christmas tree, going shopping together, cooking the dinner together, having a meal together – basically, doing everything together, creating that precious moment of togetherness?

I notice I am speaking exactly like Her Majesty a few years ago in her Christmas address. It was my first English Christmas, and I had just completed a mandatory course in Presentation Skills at the University of Manchester, where we were drilled on the subject of the importance of teamwork in academic research. To hear the Queen uttering the word ‘teamwork’ in her speech was almost too much. But this is very true about Christmas.

The worst thing about it all is that because of desperation for political correctness the country and its workplaces are now being denied the chance to experience the anticipation of holidays and the joy of coming into a lovely decorated office, which otherwise may be awfully dull. I must admit, I could understand the appeal to exclude various ‘Christian’ themes from the decorations (I still would not approve of it, although I am not religious), but to ban the decorations altogether is too much.

I mean, seriously, what is so offensive about tinsel?

Julia on BBC Radio Manchester

Like I said previously, on Thursday I was interviewed by Richard Fair on BBC Radio Manchester. You can now go to BBC Radio Manchester Blog and read the report, just follow this link. Furthermore, you can listen to an extract from my interview – exactly on the point of why I started blogging. And no, it’s not me on that photo.

Yeah, we discussed briefly the reason why bloggers are so *arrogant* in that they expect other people to read what they write. True to my trade, I referred to George Orwell. I only quoted a tiny bit on the radio, but this is the extract from his essay ‘Why I Write’, which I had in mind. Orwell spoke about four motives for writing, and the first one was

Sheer egoism. Desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get your own back on grown-ups who snubbed you in childhood, etc. etc. It is humbug to pretend that this is not a motive, and a strong one. Writers share this characteristic with scientists, artists, politicians, lawyers, soldiers, successful businessmen – in short, with the whole top crust of humanity. The great mass of human beings are not acutely selfish. After the age of about thirty they abandon individual ambition – in many cases, indeed, they almost abandon the sense of being individuals at all – and live chiefly for others, or are simply smothered under drudgery. But there is also the minority of gifted, wilful people who are determined to live their own lives to the end, and writers belong in this class. Serious writers, I should say, are on the whole more vain and self-centred than journalists, though less interested in money.

The other three motives for writing, according to Orwell, were aesthetic enthusiasm, historical impulse, and political purpose. The latter I highlighted previously on this blog, in October, in the post ‘What Do You Think an Artist Is?’ As you may note, things have changed since 1946 (as a matter of fact, there’s no Wikipedia entry on Orwell’s essay, so I should probably write that, too), in particular, the interest in money has probably increased among both writers and journalists (at least because we all pay taxes).

The rest of the passage is still true and relevant, although I would rather say that one should distinguish between educated arrogance, informed with your knowledge, experience and self-awareness, and arrogance in the proper sense of the word. I can confidently say that those who know me would never call me ‘arrogant’. They would probably call me ‘self-sufficient’, which some people are willing to pass on as arrogance, but which is not the same thing. In fact, I’d even correct Orwell on this. Writers, who are guided by a political purpose, aesthetic enthusiasm and historical impulse, cannot be arrogant. They are simply dedicated, gifted people, who do sometimes give an impression of not being interested in money and ‘all that jazz’. But they are always interested in other people. Which is why a good writer is always a good historian, and a good historian is always a good writer. In any language, I should note.

We are vain, it’s true, but not because we are hungry for fame. Simply when you are dedicated to something you do, you put enormous efforts into it, and you need to recompense your losses. Which is why the link to my interview is now in ‘Author’s Links’ in the navigation bar.

No matter how vain we are, though, we do not fail to recognise our gratitude to our readers, especially if/when they send comments. And so I am grateful to all my readers, who’s been reading and searching my blog globally, to everyone who’s left comments, and to Robin and Richard at the BBC.

Oh, and I can’t fail to mention this. As you read in my profile, Julie Delvaux is my literary pen name. There is my real name, under which I am fairly well known. Now, there’s a third version – Julia Delvaux. I think, my next step should be realising one of my non-literary dreams and trying myself at music (singing) and cinema. On the one hand, I don’t want my mezzo-soprano to be lost. On the other, with all versions of my name I’m almost ready for an IMDb.com entry.

Isn’t that vanity? ;-))

Tudors, Me, and an Elusive Ghost

To begin with, a piece of news: I am the first person to feature on the Blog Spot this Thursday on Richard Fair’s programme on BBC Radio Manchester. You can read more about the feature, about Richard (who is also a blogger), and, of course, about our beloved BBC Radio Manchester that has recently won the Station of the Year award. As Richard says in his post, you can listen to the programme online at 2pm, with a chance to listen again after the programme.

Not content apparently with making me his first game, Richard is talking to me at Ordsall Hall – Manchester’s very own haunted Tudor mansion. Strictly speaking, when I say ‘Tudor’ I rather mean its exterior. The Hall itself dates back to as early as the 12th c., and its first long-term owners, the Radclyffe family, had occupied the building and the land approx. between 1335 and 1662. The best-known owners of the Hall of that time include Sir John Radclyffe, the hero of the Hundred Years’ War, whose motto – ‘Caen, Crecy, Calais’ – denoted his taking part in several pivotal battles at the beginning of war, which the English had won. Sir Alexander Radclyffe was the High Sheriff of Lancashire on four occasions. Margaret Radclyffe (d. 1599) was Queen Elizabeth’s favourite Maid of Honour.

The Hall, however, is better known for two other things. In 1861 it was commemorated by the novelist William Harrison Ainsworth. The novel called Guy Fawkes, or The Gunpowder Treason used Ordsall Hall as the set, where political intrigue and romance entwined. In particular, it introduced the character of Viviana Radclyffe, daughter of Sir William Radclyffe. According to the plot, John Catesby and Guy Fawkes came to Ordsall Hall to hide from King James’s pursuivants. There, while Fawkes was detailing out his plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, John Catesby was wooing Viviana. To perfect the novel and to complete the legend, Ainsworth conjured the love triangle. He made the renowned Protestant scholar Humphrey Cheetham (whose statue you can see in the Manchester Cathedral) Viviana’s secret admirer. However, she was a Catholic, thus they could not marry. When the Hall was raided by the pursuivants, Cheetham had rescued Viviana, Catesby and Fawkes via an underpassage. He spent the rest of his life in solitude, ‘tinged by the blighting of his early affection’.

Secondly, the Hall is haunted. It is not exactly clear whose ghosts meet you at Ordsall, and what time these ghosts used to live when they were connected to their bodies. But the ghostcam has been working at the Hall for years, and, reportedly, the best time to try and see a ghost was on Saturday night. I must admit, I never tried to *catch* one. However, the photo below shows quite clearly that the Great Hall is indeed being well looked after (see a blueish shadow between the fireplace and a little table?)

[Courtesy of Ordsall Hall).

I shall try and take some pictures on Thursday when I go to Ordsall Hall. This will not be my first ever visit there. The first time I’ve been to the Hall was in July 2002, and, believe it or not, Ordsall Hall was my first ever Tudor mansion. Prior to that, I’ve only seen Tudor buildings in the books and on the photos on the web. My impression is that I was somewhat disturbed to go from a huge spacious Great Hall into a dim claustrophobic bedroom, whose ceiling was painted in dark-blue colour and decorated with gilded stars. The feeling of the sky coming down on you was almost palpable. As if that was not enough, the room was called ‘the Star Chamber’, because of the ceiling. Every Tudor historian would instantly remember that this was also the name of the Royal court that had existed between 1487 and 1641. Its meetings were held in secret, with no indictments, no right of appeal, no juries, and no witnesses.

I chose to specialise in Tudor history because I loved England, the English language and culture, and because I adored Medieval and Early Modern History, but wanted to be closer to the modern times, thus I opted to research into the 16th c. It was an absolutely amazing period of time, as far as I’m concerned. The geographical and scientific discoveries, Renaissance and Baroque, the beginnings of cartography and research into the Solar system, on the one hand, – and Reformation, the Wars of Religion, the Inquisition, and slavery, on the other. The co-existence of the opposites has made the 16th c. irresistibly attractive. I don’t think I would want to study any other time, had I been given the choice once again.

And now to something spooky

As I wrote before, I initially wanted to upload two photographs of the ghost. But when I was uploading the photo below, it only opened halfway, so the blueish figure in the dress with the train wasn’t seen. Now you can see it well, which either means that the ghost decided to show herself to my readers, or that some forces from the bigger world have intervened.

Whatever is the reason for such metamorphosis, it still proves, in the words of Krzysztof Kieslowski, the Polish cinema genius, that ‘something exists beyond this saucer’. Indeed, it does.

A Day in the Life with the Blue Lyre

Yes, there was a post under such title already on this blog, but, since I took part in the History Matters campaign and my entry has been uploaded to their page, I thought I would post it here, too. You can read as many other entries, as you wish, by clicking here. I’ve got to say, some comments are totally amazing, especially those written by children.

You will notice that my ‘one day in history’ is anything, but down-to-earth. There’s no mention of how I brushed my teeth, ‘dragged the comb across my head’, and, since it was my day-off, I spent it at home. I noted what I had for tea, however. The major part of the entry is dedicated to my recalling of what I did in terms of reading, thinking and writing. I shall explain, why I did so. As you know, I am an historian, and for years I’ve been researching into intellectual history, or history of ideas (very broadly speaking). This field borders on both philosophy and art, which is one of the reasons why it fascinates me so much. Consequently, I jotted down, as briefly and clearly as possible, what I thought and felt on October 17th, 2006. What you’re reading, therefore, is a writer’s alienating themselves from their ideas and occupations and looking at these through an historian’s specs.

So, this is a retrospective view of one single day, 17th October 2006.

When I was an adolescent and tried to write a diary, I hated it. But recently I began to write a blog, and I am actually enjoying it. However, I don’t write about commonsensical things there. For this reason I’ll only briefly mention such unimportant details, as my getting up at 10am (because the 17th was my day-off, and the night before I stayed up late); having breakfast; checking my email; having lunch later on; then boiling chicken breasts and eating one of them for tea; and eventually going to bed. I don’t boil chicken breasts every day, and I don’t get up at 10am every day, but the rest I am doing day-in, day-out.

I have always been attracted to history, even before I went to study it. History was always linked to philosophy and art, and was about people, what and how they think and feel, and why. The arts, especially literature, have been my main interest and preoccupation since I was 6, so I ended up as a specialist in intellectual history. Back in 1997, in Moscow, and wanting to be a writer, I went to read History to gain the knowledge of life (in the broadest sense) and to generate my understanding of it, so I would have something to write about. Gradually I began to discover and sometimes to face the memories of my own past. Thinking about it, this is exactly what historians do – they collect information from elsewhere, whilst waiting for the archives to be opened. I don’t know exactly what has opened my archives, but perhaps I just forgot about it now?

This is what I thought on October 17. What did I feel? I felt love. Around that date I was in love with ‘Terrace in Rome’ by Pascal Quignard. The book was short enough to be swallowed in a couple of hours, but sometimes it is short or simple pieces that mesmerise you and touch your very core. Having finished it, I spent the next two days in a state close to cathartic. Even now I am not completely over it. For me as an artist, it is essential that I am in love, as love, whether shared or unrequited, is the source of inspiration. There is nothing particularly original about this view. Likewise, love doesn’t have to be associated with any particular person; the object of love can be a late writer or a book. Love in this case is a mixture of empathy, fantasy and passion, neither of which needs to be directly expressed or fulfilled. But it is essential that such object exists in my life, as something that attracts, challenges, inspires, and ultimately changes me. I don’t think, however, that love is a fleeting feeling; after all, I am faithful to my art.

In the afternoon I found an article about one classic Russian film, which I subsequently blogged. I’ve also posted an announcement on my blog (Notebooks) about this campaign. Later in the afternoon I received a totally unexpected email from a fellow artist. It mentioned his interview in The Wire; I found a couple of tracks on The Wire website and thought that ‘Lords of Fear’ was especially interesting.

In the evening I was again pondering on how to rewrite a cycle of poems that I composed in 2001. The cycle was called (and still is) ‘The Blue Lyre’, but its structure and form are to be totally changed. The main theme of the cycle is the formation of a poet, and in accordance with my plans, I wrote a rondeau. I never force myself to write, and I don’t quite believe in the ‘nulla dies sine linea’ adage. The world and the art, and my feelings for and thoughts about them, compel me, which is why I sometimes stay up in the night. But on October 17 I didn’t.

To see the corresponding entrances, so as to refresh your memory, you can go to the following links: the campaign and the article that I blogged, and the track that I listened to.

I’ll tell a tiny bit more about this cycle. Upon my word, I don’t know why I decided to call it ‘The Blue Lyre’. I think, generally, the explanation is pretty simple, and you can have a go at deciphering it. The rondeau I mentioned is a lovely Renaissance poetic form, and in the cycle it tells the story of the poet being warned against falling under the Lyre’s spell, for it makes everyone who follows it unhappy. But the poet eventually joins the Lyre’s retinue, whilst realising that he will be unhappy either with her or without her. The refrain of this rondeau is ‘I have always been told‘ (“Мне всегда говорили“), and this is what it reads like in Russian:

Мне всегда говорили: «Не слушай, когда,
Из небесных пределов спускаясь, звезда
Призывать в свою свиту тебя станет нежно, –
«Не желаю и знать!» – отвечай безмятежно».

«Коль примкнешь к ее свите волшебной, тогда
В бесконечной нужде проведешь ты года,
За одною настигнет другая беда,
Будешь плакать над долей своей безутешно», –
……………………………………….Мне всегда говорили.

Так ночей моих скудных прошла череда, –
И, за Синею Лирой уйдя навсегда,
Обещанье покоя отринув мятежно,
Понял я: буду с нею страдать неизбежно,
Без нее же счастливым не быть никогда, –
………………………………………Мне всегда говорили.

Still, a bientot!

Energy Efficiency & Darwinism

Yes, the British are officially at the bottom of the list of energy-saving nations. The ramifications are that the journalists and broadcasters are trying to find out what to do to save energy. One Mancunian has told the Radio Manchester that he uses a torch to go from one room to another. While it’s very unlikely that many people will follow in his footsteps, most Mancunians are trying to save energy by boiling only so much water as they need to brew a nice cuppa.

In Russia (in case if you don’t know) – in Moscow, at the least – we have regular central heating from mid-autumn until mid-spring, none in summer, with a mandatory switch-off of hot water for a month in summer (for any necessary check-ups or overhauling of water supply system). So, yes, if you want to have a bath then you’ve got this beautfiul opportunity of visiting your friends on the other side of your huge capital city, providing they’re staying at home and don’t mind letting you share their bathroom. Alternatively, all you’ve got to do is to boil water, mix it with cold water to make it warm, and to keep yourself clean without leaving your abode. If this looks barbaric or too original to you, so does an English bath to me.

Anyway, thanks to having been living in such princely conditions for 20-odd years, I’ve been affectionately called a “Jamaican” by many Englishmen because I can very easily feel cold when most people are bathing in sweat. [OK, I am uttering things, of course]. As you can guess, therefore, I’m not the energy-efficient person. I require the heating being turned on in winter, and I do love chimneys [I love them all the year round, actually, I find them very romantic, but of course I don’t turn a chimney on in summer – I am not Jamaican, after all].

Like I said, however, I have acclimatised here, and I was wondering how I might feel if my plans work out and I go to visit my parents in Moscow, say, in February? It tends to be bitterly cold in February, so I’m just trying to figure out, how I’m going to feel there after three English winters. To be honest, however, I think I’ll be skiing in glee. :-))

[And just to give you an idea of what I’ve been missing the most for all three years that I’ve lived in England, here are two photos taken around the Moscow State University, where I studied. I found them somewhere on the web, so thanks to the photographer, if they suddenly find their images on my blog].

Finally – I don’t know why I’m including this link in this post, with my energy efficiency capabilities and habits in life I would hardly stand the natural selection – the complete work of Charles Darwin are now available online. And as you navigate the site, just take a notice of how many people have visited it since its opening on 19 October 2006. So… viva Darwin, I guess.

A Day in the Life Campaign Raises Awareness Of Personal History

Of course, you know this famous Beatles song. At least, I hope you do. And today you can add your own verse (or a passage in prose) to it by going here. History Matters is a campaign to raise awareness of history in Britain, supported by such organisations, as The National Trust, The English Heritage, The Council for British Archaeology, and by the leading British historians, politicians and men-of-arts (names include Dr David Starkey, Tony Benn and Boris Johnson MPs, and Stephen Fry).

Nobel Prize in Literature

This year’s Laureate in Literature is to be announced on Thursday October 12, at 11 am GMT (1 pm CET). You can watch the live internet broadcast here.

And today I was woken up in the most unusual way, by thunderbolt. The strike was very violent and loud, but I don’t know if anything was actually destroyed. That was in Manchester. And in the Lake District our intrepid photographer Tony Richards, who’s been documenting the beauties of the Lakes for several years by now, took this photograph:

“Too late to be ‘frightened’ by it, I just wondered at the power of Mother Nature!!!”, Tony wrote on his website. In my turn, after listening to my local thunderbolt, I was too wide awake to fall back to sleep.

Quiet Flows the Don

Many thanks to an IMDb.com user who’s posted the link to this article, printed in The Moscow Times in February this year. Unfinished Business is about the process of completion of the last film by the Oscar-winning Russian director Sergei Bondarchuk, Quiet Flows the Don. I’ve already written something about it, but now you can read the article for yourself.

I cannot tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to this picture! Which is why I’m digging information about it from everywhere, and I do hope it gets finished soon. As a matter of fact, 9th Company (Devyataya Rota), a film by the late director’s son, Fyodor Bondarchuk, is Russia’s official entry to the Oscars’ long list for 2007.