Friday, 28 February 2014

Dreams of Naglfar

My obsession with non-Skaldic Old Norse verse continues apace. I am currently working my way through the Poetic Edda which opens with a terrifying prophecy of the end of the world:

"...the serpent churns the waves, the eagle shrieks in anticipation,
pale-beaked he tears the corpse, Naglfar breaks loose..."

Naglfar? I turn to the glossary. Naglfar is a ship made out of the fingernails of the dead. 

Just thought I'd share that image with you, so I'm not alone in my nightmares tonight. (I am assuming 90s cartoon Potsworth and Company is broadly correct in their metaphysics of dreaming.)

Marginally related interesting fact (and explicatory note for my American readers): Potsworth and Company was called Midnight Patrol: Adventures in the Dreamzone when originally broadcast in the United States, but the BBC insisted on changing the name because executives felt that it inappropriately suggested that children might be awake after Midnight.

Thursday, 20 February 2014

Abandoned Valentine's poem #6

Better late than never...

Roses are any colour you like -
A complex semiotic game.
Violets are violet
(the clues in the name).
Daffodils are yellow: Wordsworth's "host",
A card is better than a Facebook post.


Monday, 17 February 2014

Hammer Time

Six months into the tenancy of what we still call the 'new' flat and the pictures intended for the walls resolutely refuse to hang themselves. Spike seems indifferent to this, I don't think he minds bare walls. But, recently, Charlie said she will ask her father to do it next time he visits. Which basically gave me to the end of the month to buy a hammer.

My paternal Grandfather, Harry (The same grandfather that would ask me how old I was and then ask me to compute the square of that number) told me as a child that it was never too early to start investing in quality tools. Advice I have unsagely ignored for the last three decades. 

My 'man' drawer contains (in decreasing order of manliness) some wood glue (unopened), Basildon Bond lavender writing paper, a sewing kit, and a bag of nylon soft toy stuffing left over from the time I made my niece an alien robot ragdoll. 

No Etsy page for Finnginn just yet.
Nary a picture hook, nor a hammer? - hie thyself to Wickes! (As I imagine their advertising slogan would have stated in the 18th century.) Not straight away of course. First, try the Post Office - it's nearer and picture hooks, at least in my head, are in the crossover between stationery and DIY, sort of hardcore drawing pins. Naturally, the Post Office didn't have any but the nice lady did point me in the direction of Wickes, which didn't have any either but I was able to buy a hammer. 

At home, I placed my new hammer in my man drawer, thus increasing its manliness by around 30%. The pictures sat sulkily on the floor beneath their intended positions gathering dust. Spike avoided my eye. Two weeks to go...