Jam and (almost) Jerusalem
Last Sunday we harvested many kilos of plums from our fruitful tree and yesterday I managed to turn about half of them into jam before they all fermented. But there are more to come. Nature is either prodigal or very stingy. And we can't tell which it's going to be. As with writers - are you going to be in the Joseph Heller, Harper Lee, J D Salinger league or more like Anthony Trollope? (I shan't mention Barbara Cartland).
I'm definitely more of a Trollope (we are talking quantity, not quality, you understand, so I'm not trying to compare myself with one of my favourite novelists. Perhaps I should just say I'm a plum tree rather than a damson or wisteria, as far as analogies with our garden are concerned) I've been saying I've written "over 90" books for some time now but I must keep an eye on it, lest I pass my century without noticing.
The thing is: some of themwere quite short.
I'm thrilled that through the machinations of middle daughter I have tickets next Friday for Jerusalem at the Royal Court and will report on it next week.
Also thrilled to discover an Internet site where I can watch the Palio live. I saw the Prova Generale tonight and it was just like being back in the Campo. Lupa won without its ruder (="scosso") who had been chucked off, along with Pantera's jockey, right at the start. I like it that it's the horse who wins, not the rider.
I've been reading YA novels for my other blog but have also started a book on the credit crunch (research for adult novel) and The Unicorn Road.
And I herad Stravinsky's Apollo from the Proms. I wish it was still called Apollon Musagete but it was still divine.