Welcome to justthoughtsnstuff

I started posting to jtns on 20 February 2010 with just one word, 'Mosaic'. This seemed an appropriate introduction to a blog that would juxtapose fragments of memoir and life-writing. Since 1996, I'd been coming to terms with the consequences of emotional and economic abuse that had begun in childhood, and which, amongst other things, had sought to stifle self-expression. While I'd explored some aspects of my life through fiction and, to a lesser extent, journalism, it was only in 2010 that I felt confident enough to write openly about myself. I believed this was an important part of the healing process. Yet within weeks, the final scenes of my family's fifty-year nightmare started to play themselves out and the purpose of the blog became one of survival through writing. Although some posts are about my family's suffering - most explicitly, Life-Writing Talk, with Reference to Trust: A family story - the majority are about happier subjects (including, rural west Oxfordshire, where I live, Oxford, where I work, the seasons and the countryside, walking and cycling) and I hope that these, together with their accompanying photos, are enjoyable and positive. Note: In February 2020, on jtns' tenth birthday, I stopped posting to this blog. It is now a contained work of life-writing about ten years of my life. Frank, 21 February 2020.

Saturday, 27 April 2019

old walk, abandoned corral, arson attack, digital humanities day

I've enjoyed walking my old route to work across Wolvercote Green and along the Oxford canal to Jericho.

When we lost our direct bus, I started doing the walk over the shoulder of Cumnor Hill but recently - when recovering from a broken toe - I discovered I can get a slightly later connecting bus and reach the Woodstock Road roundabout in time to do the canal one. I doubt this will always be the case because the post-Easter lull in traffic on the A40 will end but it's lovely to rediscover it.

The abandoned corral at Wolvercote is a beautiful piece if work (above). It was built by a man who was doing a sustainability project that involved rearing two beef cattle on the green and the little paddocks in between railway line and canal, using traditional methods, including scything the grass and drying it in loose stacks to make hay.

It was a gorgeous project to catch glimpses of.

Then in autumn 2014 it ended with an arson attack on the barn in which the hay was stored. Sickening. I wrote about this in a post four years ago.

Cycled this morning in high winds. Hard going on the way out but a breeze coming back. Amazing how still it is when the wind is directly behind you. Not a whisper.

Looking forward to the Gale Digital Humanities Day at the British Library next week.

Saturday, 20 April 2019

dandelions, cycle ride

They may be the scourge of lawnkeepers - and allotmenteers, it has to be said - but along the verges dandelions are gorgeous at this time of year!

Hugely enjoyable cycle ride towards the Thames and beside the Great Brook. The air cooled by the north-easterly breeze and the sunlight bright and life-full.

Monday, 15 April 2019

jane eyre, lexicon of terror, 1950s films, trust: a family story, joint committee

Finished Jane Eyre the other day. Hard to read the novel in the way I once did in the light of Wide Sargasso Sea but for all its anachronistic faults (which are uncomfortable to read) - not to mention its narrator's occasional smugness - it is a magnificent story. And Jane is a complex, comprehensively written character - her humanity exists in her flaws as much as her strengths.

Its narrative texture is rich and varied. The scenes that evoke the British countryside are vibrant and beautifully written. As, now, a professional creative writer, I was particularly fascinated by the St John Rivers sections. I'd not been able to articulate the observations years ago that I might make today, though the chapters did seem distinct. There is one scene especially - at Jane's cottage beside the school, when St John calls on her and the characters speak without inhibition (and speech tags). Just back and forth. Just people chatting - in styles so different to the more formal language at Thornfield. The setting done with perfect simplicity and economy. So modern. So kitchen sink, in a way. (A stone sink, of course.)

Now I have moved on to the utterly compelling - and shocking - A Lexicon of Terror by Marguerite Feitlowitz, which examines the Dirty War in Argentina in the mid seventies and early eighties.

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Without a DVD to watch a month or so ago, we came across this site - The 100 Best Movies of the 1950s - and have been immersed in 1950s films ever since: The Barefoot Contessa, Sabrina, Journey to Italy and Born Yesterday thus far. A supposedly lost, grey decade comes to life. Bogart philosophical, wise and compassionate in ways not previously suspected. George Sanders, the awkward, cold British male, who seems as uncomfortably apposite now as in the 'post war' era.

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Had some time to work on Trust: A family story during the past fortnight. The process of rewriting and editing this work must seem so drawn out to the onlooker - which indeed it is. I have so little spare writing time in between library work and teaching. But I have made time this year - and will make more over the coming months. I am pleased with the major structural changes and rewriting I did last year. While there is further strengthening to be done, this is proving quite straightforward to do and - hey - the end really is in sight.

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Very pleased that the Joint Committee on the Draft Domestic Abuse Bill is meeting and taking the bill forward, despite the all consuming demands of Brexit.

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Meantime, some exotic tulips have popped up in the garden.