Tag Archives: David Bowie

Two time-stoppers

Photo 08-01-2016, 3 37 24 pm (800x800)

(i)

I am walking to school. Pushing the pushchair with two hefty toddlers in it, wellies mud-streaked, balancing H’s scooter over the top with a spare finger, sweaty enough to make me feel like this is exercise. It’s one of my favourite things to do. The light is grey as steel, but the woods look good in anything.

I look up, and there’s a kite balancing on the topmost branch of the nearest tree. A kite, or a hawk? I never know. I wish I did. We see them quite often, wheeling far overhead, but I’ve never seen one perched before. This one sways gently on its spindly seat. So much bigger than I expected. A muscled, burly chest, layered with feathers. I’m overwhelmed by how solid it is, how heavy and powerful it looks, how its stillness communicates itself as terrifying, ferocious observation. I wouldn’t like to be a sparrow in the field below and feel that glare on my back.

I stop the pushchair and point up. ‘Look, can you see the bird?’ I want them to see it too, and I don’t want to move before it does. Then I don’t have to: it lets out a pure, cold, bird-of-prey cry, the kind I’ve heard on documentaries but never in front of me, never slicing through the air on top of my head, and peels off. Wings open smoothly as it falls and then it’s not falling anymore, but flying. It must have seen a sparrow.

I let out my breath, and push on.

 

Photo 24-11-2015, 12 14 39 pm (800x639)

(ii)

I have heaved all three of our shopping bags in from the car, and closed all the doors. It’s our doing-things day, the one where I wheedle T around two supermarkets and clean up the house after the weekend. I love restocking our empty fridge and cupboards, cramming the shelves with a week of fresh food. Planning and making our meals answers one of my deepest, most basic needs as a mother: I can feed them good things, I can keep them well, I can keep them loved. I think about this every Monday, stuffing onions into the fridge drawer.

‘Put music on?’ T asks.

‘Of course’, I say. ‘What would you like?’

I don’t really expect him to answer, but he screws up tiny nose and does: ‘Um…Starman’.

We’ve been hitting the Bowie back catalogue hard since he passed away. I suppose you pore over someone’s genius more when you know there’s no more to come. The boys are old enough to recognise them this time around. They love them, though they’re not as fierce about Life on Mars as I am.

I crank up the volume and the slightly discordant guitar riff jangles through the kitchen, then Bowie comes in for the first verse, that hard, spare voice lingering over the repeated ‘oh-oh-ohs’. T starts to dance, all shoulders and lunges. I join in, swirling my coat around us like a cloak. He grabs my hand and I spin us both round in lazy circles on the kitchen floor, waiting for the moment where the chorus kicks in with a rush and an octave leap.

I know this is something I’ll remember years later: this minute, this chubby hand and leaping toddler and soft late-morning light and Bowie loud in the air. I can feel it solidifying into memory in front of me, like our edges are turning sepia before we’re quite done with them. Possibly I’ll never listen to Starman again without being transported right back here. Swishing coat. Hand in the air. T’s laughter. And here comes the chorus: Star-maaaaaan, waiting in the sky.

He laughs. I laugh. I get out bread, grapes, cheese, and make us some lunch.

watch-listen-read: Friday (um, Saturday) treats for your eyes and ears

I wasn’t going to do one of these this week, but I have things to recommend! They are brilliant! Come and see.

watch: Creation

It’s almost impossible for us to realise, now, what an earth-shattering, morally tortuous moment it was when Charles Darwin published ‘On the Origin of Species’. Everything by which society ran, its reason for being, was called into question. This interesting film attempts to show Darwin’s agonies and the repercussions that affected his family as he wrote the book. Paul Bettany is the sideburned, white-faced naturalist, with Jennifer Connolly his devoutly Christian wife. I thought the film sidestepped the most interesting and thorny scenes of Darwin in society, in favour of a smaller look at his home life (and there are some hammy ghost story elements that should’ve been left out). But there are some lovely nature sequences, and frankly I would watch Paul Bettany painting a wall and watching it dry: he adds dignity to anything he’s in. Except, perhaps, The Da Vinci Code. Nothing could save that.

listen: The Life Aquatic Studio Sessions featuring Seu Jorge

You know that late-evening space when the kids have gone to bed and the washing up is done and you’re too tired even to think? Put this on. It’s a collection of Portuguese-language David Bowie covers, and is the soundtrack to the film The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Slowed down, to the accompaniment of a guitar, they are soothing and beautiful. ‘Life on Mars’ is my absolute favourite. Perfect backdrop for your late-night slump.

read: Watching the English, Kate Fox

This is my favourite kind of anthropology: observations about, not a distant Amazonian tribe in decorative codpieces, but your own people. Reading Kate Fox helped me understand why we spend forever saying goodbye, why queue-jumping is the biggest taboo there is, what the differences are between the lower-middle and middle-middle classes, and why our self-deflating sense of humour is essential to the way we view ourselves. Entertaining, absorbing and highly embarrassing if you’re English, instructive and enlightening if you’re not.

Right, on with Saturday. It is a day of fiddly things, but we’re going to try and get out somewhere nice for a picnic later. September sun is not to be sniffed at.

Happy weekend!

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