One book down

It was a good one, too.  Set in Seattle, during the Second World War when Japanese residents were interned, the story was such a satisfying read and fitted the bill perfectly.  My only small niggle was that the very short chapters led to a stop-start telling of the tale rather than a longer swoop of fiction.  But it’s a small niggle indeed and The Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet was another of Jane’s recommendations which has hit the spot!

The Last Bend on the Bobsleigh Run

Girls lived such exciting lives in the 1950s!  This picture is the opening page of the School Friend Annual of 1953 and flicking through the book, I immediately fell for the characters and settings for the stories in there.  No fashion or makeup tips to be seen.  No celebrities, boy bands or suchlike but a wholesome collection of girls and young women overcoming adversity, having adventures and mostly being jolly good sports.  When I was nine or ten, I loved my comics and readily identified with the girls in the stories, even if Beverley Road Junior School was more likely to hold a sack race in Pearson Park than a bobsleigh race in Switzerland.

Bearing in mind that these annuals were often around at Christmas time – mine usually came in my stocking and had been read by breakfast time,  this feature on drawing from The Bunty  annual of 1969 was probably a popular one.  But the language is so different!  Great to see that girls were not “talked down to” – the advice in the feature about drawing figures is detailed and comprehensive – but oh my, what do you make of “drinking iced concoctions at a cafe table” ?  Did we really write like that in 1969?

 

Oh, and in case we were having too much fun drawing and reading about our favourite characters, the Bunty Book for Girls included one or two more worthy features, including

 

But for the most, the stories were of young women we might aspire to become.  People like Jane Comfort, the student teacher and Tina Roberts, who  worked for the Gold Seal Agency, testing products before they went on sale to the public, who had a riotous time testing roller skates on an elephant.  Dora Dexter, who ran a delivery service in a little market town and Wendy Brown who had “a wonderful job as Junior Air Hostess with Elmbank Airlines, flying all over the world and helping to take care of children travelling on the company’s luxury planes”! 

I love how anything is possible, how girls were given all kinds of dreams and opportunities. I consider myself so lucky because parents brought me up to believe that I could do anything if I worked hard, regardless of my gender. Reading these books I can see that reflected in the games and stories we read.  To be a girl in the 1960s was full of possibility, it seems.

But we were very good, weren’t we?  One striking characteristic is that good always wins over naughty and kindness conquers all in The Bunty.  Tell the truth, be kind to animals and always do your best for your dreams to come true and a happy ending all round.

Even Pepita, the poor Flamenco dancer who will never dance again following an horrific car accident, finds a way through.  Phew…it was touch and go at times, I can tell you.

So why am I suddenly muttering on about the Bunty?  Well, thanks to my good friend Fanny I’ve got a handful of old annuals here to take for our road-trip pal, Mary, for whom the concept of the girls’ comic is unknown.  Quite what she will make of them, who knows?  All I can say is that I’ve had a jolly good time reading them myself!  Maybe, too, I’ll keep one back, to give to my small friend and see what she makes of it…

Holiday weekend

It’s raining.  Not really enough to soak the garden, which would be good, but enough to make us think that spending this Bank Holiday Weekend at home a good idea. 

We began the weekend in style, with friends at Lumiere, our favourite local restaurant.  These “Tequila Slammers” went down wonderfully – there’s tequila sorbet in the glass, a salt shard in the middle and a lime sphere in front.  The sphere needs to be eaten in one go and popped in the mouth rather than nibbled and it was interesting to see who was gung-ho about doing that and who was, like me, slightly anxious!  No need for anxiety, though – the burst of sweetly sharp lime was spot on and completed the experience beautifully!

Saturday and Sunday were days for fiddling about in my studio, remaking the book and trying to make some sense of the first one.  The postman brought a new addition to my shelves in the middle of all the fiddle – another distraction!

But in between the fiddling, there was some testing to be done.  A group of our friends are tackling the Three Peaks Challenge in August, in aid of the National Ankylosing Spondylitis Society and I’ve taken on the role of chief cook and bottlewasher!  They’re going to need a variety of nutritious and energy-packed snacks as well as a couple of fairly substantial meals so I’m auditioning one or two new ideas including these Crispy Ginger Slices.  They’re a light shortbread base with a ginger variation on Kendal Mint Cake on top – totally yummy and if I can work out a gluten-free version, will be a winner.

 

The good thing about being home all weekend is that the papers have been read and thoroughly digested, giving me plenty of things to consider whilst fiddling about with paper and glue.  I mean, do places really have to be dangerous to be interesting enough to read about?  And I thought long and hard about my opinion on this but resisted the urge to share it in 140 characters.

Best of all, I had time to watch the tulips open

and to make enough of Gordon Ramsay’s Chicken Biryani that there was enough to look forward to for lunch today as well.

Utterly charming

I decided I’d leave India for something a little more comfortable.

I loved every page and have just finished it with a sigh.

I don’t know

I’ve just finished this amazing book and I just don’t know.  After reading the 600+ pages of a book which I really couldn’t put down, I’m left with all kinds of questions about India and absolutely no answers at all.  To say this book is a powerful read is an understatement and I can now understand why those who recommend it do so with such passion.

I’ve read a description of it as a book “which lingers” and can say that is certainly true for me.  I have absolutely no doubt that I will find myself mulling over the people and the situations for quite some time to come, working out just how brilliantly the story unfolded and how so many heartbreaking events could prove to be so compelling.

For sure, India is still a mystery to me.  I grew up hearing about India from my father, who spent time there as part of his National Service and who spoke so fondly about the country and its people.  I heard similar tales from my father in law, who also served there and who had similarly fond memories.  So, on one of our earliest adventures, we visited the country ourselves, to see what it was about the people, the culture, the places that left such deep impressions on both our fathers. We didn’t find it easy-going and the upsetting aspects of being there were never far from view, but somehow there was a kind of beauty wherever we looked and the people behaved with a grace and dignity that we so admired.  A couple of decades later, on this our third visit, we found fewer surprises, felt more comfortable and confident to be there and yet, for all of this, found ourselves asking the same questions.  We heard our (mostly first time visitors to the country) colleagues from the ship talking in harsh terms about Chennai in particular, complaining that the streets were filthy, that people were sleeping on the pavements and the whole place was disgusting.  They muttered about the bureaucracy, the inefficiency, the lack of traffic conventions and the state of the roads, not to mention the swarms of people everywhere – peddling goods for sale, tuktuk rides, their services as guides or simply begging.  We found ourselves speaking up in defence of the place, reminding them that officious behaviour isn’t only an Indian trait, that the areas around a port in any city are seldom the most picturesque.  We spoke of our respect for the people who faced rather more challenges than we could ever imagine but who were so very well presented, polite and welcoming towards us.  How could we defend this place and yet appear to overlook all the squalor and poverty?  The answer usually seemed to be “because this is India”.

So, when I finished the book and was asked the question, “Well, did it turn out ok in the end?”  how could I answer?

It’s India, isn’t it?

I have no answers.