May 13th, 2006

lady of shalott

the scapegoat

Damn you, weather! We had two blissful days of sunshine and cheeriness (could that have been the proverbial "nice week in May"? "Nice two days in May" doesn't have quite the same ring to it, really), and then yesterday it all went horribly wrong.

And it started so well, too! glitzfrau and I went for a delightful trip to the revamped Hugh Lane. Which is great, but where are the fabulously swaggering Sargents and, yes, the cheesy old Burne-Jones? A year studying 19th century art removed my teenage love of the Pre-Raphaelites - and I defy anyone to still like the Pre-Raphaelites once they realise that they really mean Holman fucking Hunt and Ford Madox Brown and the whole garish, hideous lot of them. It's not all Merlin and Nimue or Ophelia swanning down the river. Not that that sort of thing is great either, but it does beat 'The Awakening Conscience' (Look at it! Just imagine having to write essays on that sort of hideous stuff for an entire year! Actually, I have to admit, the writing-essays -about-the-depiction-of-female-sexuality-etc-etc bit was okay. It was the having to look at the hideous thing for hours on end that was the problem).

However! I do retain an unreasonable love for (a) Waterhouse's paintings of the Lady of Shalott (see icon) and, yes, Burne Jones. I know he's preposterous, I know all of his people look exactly the same, but I still like him. And I didn't get to see his Sleeping Beauty yesterday, which was a bit of a shame.

Anyway! It was still lovely and sunny when we left the gallery and strolled down Moore Street on our way to the trimmings shop, where we bought delicious crafty supplies. It was still kind of sunny when we bid farewell to each other and I headed home. But by the time Patsington and I left the house to go into town and meet some chums for drinks, it was raining and wintery. Yes, summer (all two days of it) is over. That was quick.

And yet we're getting the one downside of summer, ie me being woken up at some ungodly hour of the morning by the sun. Yesterday I woke up at ten to seven and couldn't get back to sleep again, which meant that I was so knackered last night that I tumbled into bed at half eleven. We had to leave the pub early because Patsington is heading down to Kilkenny this morning and had to rise with the lark, but I rose even earlier than the lark and have now been awake for hours and hours. If I have to wake up so early, why can't it at least be sunny? I don't mind being up so early if I can sit out in the back garden with a cup of tea. I do mind if I'm sitting sulkily in the kitchen looking out at the dreary sky and wondering will it ever be blue again.

On the plus side, glitzfrau is coming out for one last safari before she heads off to pastures germanic. I think biscuits, bag-making and an introduction to Upstairs Downstairs are in order...