Saints Day

We've always rather liked to extend our birthdays over two or three days.  Not a question of wild partying, or lavishing with piles of extravagant gifts, but simply of nurturing an expansive and relaxed feeling of celebration, gratitude, that it's a special time, a step outside of the ordinary.

This is helped for me that the following day is always my saint's day, and since I've lived here, though the tradition of saints' days is on the wane, Ste Lucie is still one that is remarked on, and on the 13th December someone or other usually wishes me bonne fête. One day I hope to go to Scandinavia for it.

I wrote about what St Lucy's day means to me a couple of years ago here.  Jonathan Wonham, he of Connaisances and latterly Icebus, left a small, incredibly precious jewel, beside it.  Such treasures people do leave here, I find it quite wanton and profligate of them...

St Lucy's Day

Just on the threshold of sight
stands the one who knows the way
whenever the light of a hundred days
is ground in the crucible of one night.

~~~

I was quite busy on Sunday.  I had parcels to parcel and a teaching assignment to write - as always with any area of formal study I've ever engaged in, I began the on-line TEFL course in a surge of enthusiasm and energy, thinking 'no sweat!', then grew dissipated and drifted, then suddenly found myself with a looming deadline or a price to pay, and now am rather enjoying the pressure of getting it finished just in time and by the skin of my teeth.  'Twas ever thus... It snowed a little in the morning, and was pale and grey and sad, but the sun came out in the afternoon despite the lean wind, and Mol and I had a walk out of it.

And, by chance or a nice serendipity, Dave at Qarrtsiluni e-mailed and said could I do the audio recording for the Saints photos I'd sent them a while back, for their excellent Words of Power edition.  So I retired to the blue room and spoke to thin air about saints.  The result is at here at Qarrtsiluni.

I have mixed feelings about hearing myself like this.  Heaven knows, anyone who knows me wouldn't hesitate to say that I'm fond enough of the sound of my own voice; introversion does not preclude loquacity.  However, public speaking is simply not something I'm accustomed to; my education did not include much in the way of spoken presentation or any communication skills beyond writing, and I've never liked my recorded voice, I don't even like talking to my Australian brother on the 'phone when there's the satellite echo and I can hear myself.  But the unfamilarity of and recoil from a sustained recording do add to the fascination, and it was an interesting exercise to talk from notes in this way; teaching has made me better at pacing myself, not rushing or mumbling unclearly as is my natural wont, and I found I relaxed into it as I went on.  Overall, the addition of the audio podcasts in Qarrtsiluni adds a huge extra dimension, and it really is worth taking a bit of time to listen to the contributors' readings.  And yes, I am aware that as a Brit in a largely American milieu one does get a bit of totally unearned extra kudos!

Last time I did this, I spoke into the camera mic of the Canon, which gave quite a good quality result.  (Dave then strips the audio from the video file, because he's a clever bugger and knows how to do such things...).  Trying out the Lumix, despite it's much vaunted super-dooper video function, I thought the result was muffled and disappointing.  I tried the cheapcam and thought it was crisper, but when it was shipped it turned out to have a rather hideous crackle, which combined with the rather infantile staccato crackle in my  natural voice, is a bit harsh.  However, Dave's done wonders ironing out the faults with clever software, for which I'd like to offer many thanks and appreciation for his talents and patience.

~~~

So, still no pictures to speak of.  Next time...