Personal and Impersonal Training

 Personal and Impersonal Training

 

I’m standing in a steady drizzle, on a surface of uneven and cracked tarmac. At least I am not wearing singlet and shorts but a fleece and cycling leggings. I am being told to do various physical movements, most of which I find difficult, if not painful. This has got to go on for an hour, unless the rain worsens. What age am I? Seven, or nearly seventy? In my head at this very moment not much separates the two.

On the Eve of Lockdown

 On the Eve of the Second Lockdown

 

Lord Byron wrote a long, quasi-autobiographical poem in the early C19 – Child Harold. It made him famous, and gave us that staple of the Romantic imagination – the Byronic Hero, a melancholy, rootless, but noble and passionate figure.

 

Child Harold was written in four Cantos, or books, with a break in between the first and later two. In that gap occurred the final spasm of the Napoleonic Wars: the battle of Waterloo in June 1815.

The Contingency of Truth

 The Contingency of Truth

 

 

Truth, at present, seems to be very elusive. That is, important truth, sincerely sought. There are, clearly and depressingly, many people disregarding or twisting truth for partisan ends. Enough is being written on that. I refer, to begin with, to the mostly honest debates about science and policy in dealing with the pandemic. The premisses of the debates are: medical and epidemiological facts (hard truths, if you like); and political and moral priorities (for crude example, economic survival versus survival of the vulnerable), which have to do, not so much with hard facts, but rather hard ethical choices. However, if the former cannot be nailed, the latter may be disastrously misinformed.

In Notting Hill; Memories of Roy Jenkins

 In Notting Hill; Memories of Roy Jenkins

 

 

 

I don’t really know the Notting Hill area of London. Until recently, I’ve only remembered having visited the Eastern periphery, over towards Queensway and Paddington. The heart of the district, Portobello Road and the terraces set round private gardens off Ladbroke Grove, were pretty much foreign territory.

Re-opening the Royal Academy - Just a Little

 What if We Reopened the Gallery and Nobody Came?

At this time of year (August/September) the Royal Academy of Arts is usually bustling, if not bursting, with visitors to the Summer Exhibition of all-comers’ art, of all qualities and none. It’s not just an exhibition to be viewed- with reverence, excitement or raised eyebrows; it’s also a fair. The art is mostly for sale. Little red “sold” dots  grow like pondweed under many of the works (especially the prints).

Walking Near Combe, West Berkshire

 Walking Near Combe, West  Berkshire

 

 

The highest point in Southern England (an area of fluid definition) is at, or vey near, Walbury Hill in West Berkshire, on the edge of that region of the Downs facing the Kennet Valley (in modern parlance, the M4 valley).

Being a Zoom Student

Being a Zoom Student Many months ago, I signed up to a summer art history course at the Courtauld Institute: a week’s intensive study of Manet and Cezanne. The course would include guided time looking at works by these artists in the Courtauld’s gem of an art gallery in Somerset House. Alas, the suffocating blanket of Lockdown fell on us all. The Summer School was in jeopardy. The Courtauld decided to move some of the courses online, including mine, discounting for the lack of the real art. So it was, in mid-July, that some 20 students filed into a virtual lecture hall via their “devices” (the preferred, rather old fashioned, word for all our phones, tablets, lap and desktops).