Walking Commentary
Thoughts and cycling from Manchester to Rome in 2023
We found a curio earlier. A keyring fob that’s been hiding in a suitcase since 1992. I know how long we’ve had it because it comes from my time in Burma, from the Yangon Sailing Club at 132 Inya Road. It was a great place to socialise just a short distance from the university and uncomfortably close to the nearby site of a student slaughter in 1988.
It would have been fun to visit Montpellier again this weekend but pandemic travel restrictions have kept us at home. So we sent the Leinster Rugby team without supporters to a stadium where no home support is allowed. Last time Leinster played Montpellier, we were there to witness the win, sitting in the top row of what surely must the most vertiginous stadium in rugby. We followed the team each step of the the way to the final in Bilbao which Leinster also won. Our fourth Champions Cup.
It’s funny to think that a lick of paint could change music forever. You might not think that’s possible and if I am exaggerating, it’s only by a speck. In the world of European medieval music, so much was centred on religious rites that you could argue it was a change in church design that popularised polyphony.
The day started with a walk by the sea. There was a haze that cleared and yielded intermittent golden hour moments of timeless beauty.
It should be a simple thing, to know which is my favourite book that I have read this calendar year.
Because I keep an idea of my favourite books over time, a relative assessment always brings with it the question of absolute best. Absolutes refer to testable truths but what is truth?
I tend to read a lot of books about science. The extraordinary thing about reading recent books on science is the number of times that you read phrases like ‘no one knows if this will prove to be the case’. I find this uncertainty very reassuring. The demand, indeed the onus, on us all is to keep reading to keep learning.
We went to an art exhibition today. While it was the first ever exhibition of Piet Mondrian’s work to be held in Ireland, it was also a jewel of an exhibition, a worthy treat after ten months of isolation from what are today considered unnecessary activities.
I’ve always had a soft spot for Mondrian because it was through his art that I came to appreciate the path of deconstruction from realism to abstraction, something my father pointed out to me. This show featured early landscapes and a progression to his abstracted geometric paintings. I suspect that it’s because of Mondrian that my favourite items to photograph are reflections and other distortions of reality.
