Eight days ago
May. 26th, 2019 05:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustThis is the diary entry I should have written a week ago, when it would have been about 'yesterday': I don't suppose that would have made it any more interesting, but at least it would have been fresh! Nonetheless, because this is my diary, and I'm allowed to use it to record things I am otherwise likely to forget...
In the morning we went to the Bede Museum at Jarrow Hall for a talk about the archaeological dig at Coldingham, which we visited last summer from Lindisfarne. It's a long time since we were at Jarrow Hall, and the museum, which used to occupy a couple of rooms in the Hall itself, now has its own new building: we must come back, we said, and visit properly. This time, though, we were only there for the lecture, though as a bonus we were able to enjoy S.'s company (this shouldn't have been a surprise, as she runs the mailing list from which we learned of the lecure) and bask in the reflected glory of Dame Rosemary Cramp, fresh from celebrating her 90th birthday: I wouldn't be rude enough to omit that 'Dame', though personally I see greater honour in 'Professor Cramp', because it was during my time as an undergraduate that she was appointed Durham's only woman professor (I see someone is suggesting that she wasn't the first, that there was a modern linguist in the 1950s...) The talk was interesting, if a little frustrating because the dig itself was frustrating: they were looking for traces of an early monastery, and found enough to suggest that there was something happening on the site, but not enough to say what. The main result was a very large quantity of animal bones.
We didn't stay to look round the museum, because we had a lunch date with our clients the Murder Squad, who were appearing in force at a crime writing weekend at the Word. There wasn't time to do much more than say 'hello', but that was hello to some old friends and to newer members of the Squad who we hadn't previously met in person, worth the trip on both counts. Afterwards we had a brief nose around the outdoor market. Many of the stalls had already packed up, and what was left was mostly fabric, but there was one bookstall, and I managed to buy one book. It was the sort of bookstall which is dominated by DVDs, and most of the books were crime fiction (including several by Martin Edwards, with whom we had been talking over lunch). Unexpectedly, then, I bought a solid paperback of the memoirs of Alexander Herzen.
As if this weren't enough excitement for one day, we spent the evening with F and C, watching Eurovision. We have joined forces on this before, and know we are compatible in the degree of seriousness we are prepared to bring to the task: so it was a happy and relaxed evening, sitting on their sofa, drinking agreeable wines and eating sticky paëlla from bowls, the ultimate in Eurovision comfort food. There is much wrong with the governemt of Israel and many of its policies; I have much sympathy for anyone who decided they had to boycott Eurovision because of this, but none at all, I discovered, for the Icelandic contestants who turned up in person to make this point. We didn't discuss this, but enjoyed - for certain values of 'enjoyed' - the songs and the staging.
Overall impression: even more songs than usual were in English. This is a bad thing. The UK entry was forgettable (and a week on, I have forgotten it) but so was the winning entry, from the Netherlands. There's something mildly depressing about the bookies' favourite winning, too. Outstanding entries:
We caught the bus home, and were in time to watch the last of the voting, that's how much we enjoyed ourselves!
In the morning we went to the Bede Museum at Jarrow Hall for a talk about the archaeological dig at Coldingham, which we visited last summer from Lindisfarne. It's a long time since we were at Jarrow Hall, and the museum, which used to occupy a couple of rooms in the Hall itself, now has its own new building: we must come back, we said, and visit properly. This time, though, we were only there for the lecture, though as a bonus we were able to enjoy S.'s company (this shouldn't have been a surprise, as she runs the mailing list from which we learned of the lecure) and bask in the reflected glory of Dame Rosemary Cramp, fresh from celebrating her 90th birthday: I wouldn't be rude enough to omit that 'Dame', though personally I see greater honour in 'Professor Cramp', because it was during my time as an undergraduate that she was appointed Durham's only woman professor (I see someone is suggesting that she wasn't the first, that there was a modern linguist in the 1950s...) The talk was interesting, if a little frustrating because the dig itself was frustrating: they were looking for traces of an early monastery, and found enough to suggest that there was something happening on the site, but not enough to say what. The main result was a very large quantity of animal bones.
We didn't stay to look round the museum, because we had a lunch date with our clients the Murder Squad, who were appearing in force at a crime writing weekend at the Word. There wasn't time to do much more than say 'hello', but that was hello to some old friends and to newer members of the Squad who we hadn't previously met in person, worth the trip on both counts. Afterwards we had a brief nose around the outdoor market. Many of the stalls had already packed up, and what was left was mostly fabric, but there was one bookstall, and I managed to buy one book. It was the sort of bookstall which is dominated by DVDs, and most of the books were crime fiction (including several by Martin Edwards, with whom we had been talking over lunch). Unexpectedly, then, I bought a solid paperback of the memoirs of Alexander Herzen.
As if this weren't enough excitement for one day, we spent the evening with F and C, watching Eurovision. We have joined forces on this before, and know we are compatible in the degree of seriousness we are prepared to bring to the task: so it was a happy and relaxed evening, sitting on their sofa, drinking agreeable wines and eating sticky paëlla from bowls, the ultimate in Eurovision comfort food. There is much wrong with the governemt of Israel and many of its policies; I have much sympathy for anyone who decided they had to boycott Eurovision because of this, but none at all, I discovered, for the Icelandic contestants who turned up in person to make this point. We didn't discuss this, but enjoyed - for certain values of 'enjoyed' - the songs and the staging.
Overall impression: even more songs than usual were in English. This is a bad thing. The UK entry was forgettable (and a week on, I have forgotten it) but so was the winning entry, from the Netherlands. There's something mildly depressing about the bookies' favourite winning, too. Outstanding entries:
- Denmark's song was catchy and melodic, and the staging had the authentic WTF element, a giant wooden chair: the Radio Times says "The preview video seems to resemble a number from Amélie: The Musical with quirky riffs, a giant chair and dancers in stripey T-shirts and scarves. All that’s missing are the berets." I can't argue with that. I didn't give it my usual bonus points for singing in own language, because small phrases in a variety of European languages don't count, and may be regarded as opportunism: but I thought it would do better than 12th place.
- Prize for creepiest entry: Slovenia. And bonus marks for singing in Slovenian. They seem to have seen Portugal's success in 2017, and thought yes, that could work again... (they came 13th).
- My favourite was Norway: Radio Times verdict: "Norway has a good track record at Eurovision..." a handy corrective for those of us who will never forget the year of Norvège, nul points...
The points it loses for being sung in English, it recoups for including Sami joiking and references to the Northern lights. And I see that I wasn't alone in liking it: it didn't do well in the voting by juries of professionals, but made up for it in the popular vote, ending up placing fifth (and if I caught this subliminal glimpse of the UK popular vote, it came top here). There are times when it is perfectly acceptable to discount the opinion of the experts, and Eurovision is prominent among them.
We caught the bus home, and were in time to watch the last of the voting, that's how much we enjoyed ourselves!
