"Put on your suit and tie, put on that killer smile."

 

Life  Much better day today.  Slept in on purpose and didn't have the same anxiety as yesterday, mostly because I was going to the cinema to see Steven Soderbergh's new one, Black Bag.  Finally offering us his slow burn spy film, we're in and out of the story in 90 minutes.  I've haven't wanted to be Cate Blanchett in a film this much since Ocean's 8.  The trick each day seems to be to give myself a reason to get out of bed, and mores the point go outside, even if it's just to wander up to the local Spar shop to buy a paper.

Meanwhile, the promo for the Sugababes' Jungle is out and its a blessed chaos, Siobhan trapped in a shop front on a travellator like an extra in Jacqui Tati's Playtime, Keisha's in the demo pod of a Bose shop and Mutya's hungover outie dancing in a lift from Severance.    Watch out for the poltergeist creating chair structures and the male model making the interesting career decision of having the Sugababes logo tattooed across his shoulders.  At least it'll guarantee him some work going forward if the album's a hit.

The song itself is growing on me.  The brevity helps.  It's a tight 2m 42s that still manages to demonstrate the strengths of each of the vocalists and their sweet harmony.  The similarity to Smells Like Teen Spirit must surely be unintentional but it's there and not in a bad way.  Jungle is a bop which should work well live.  Somehow manages to feel like the Sugababes of One Touch but with some extra decades and still of now.  Roll on the album.

Welcome to the Jungle.

 

Life  Sometimes, when anxiety hits, I have days that just don't start well. I manage to get my brain working to some extent by mid-afternoon, and then I have about eight good hours before bedtime. My alarm clock is at the other end of the room, which forces me to get up and turn it off. This morning, when it rang at 7 a.m., I did just that, went to the loo, and because it was a bit chilly, jumped back into bed to listen to the news headlines. At which point, I fell asleep again.

At 9 a.m., I woke up again, and my anxiety really kicked in. My whole body felt tight, and I had the most immense pain in my stomach, which felt like it was weighing me down like a medicine ball, or if one of those cartoon hippos from a Disney cartoon were sitting on top of me. At which point, I spiralled. Sometimes anxiety happens because there's something in your subconscious which is freaking you out, and you have to work out what it is. Sometimes it's just anxiety about having anxiety and not knowing why you have anxiety.

After about half an hour, I managed to convince my body to get out of bed. I cooked some porridge and watched this slightly patronising YouTube video about Dua Lipa's capabilities as an interviewer and one of those Star Trek theme videos this time for Enterprise, Trip's reaction giving me a good giggle.   By then, I'd taken my anxiety medicine, which often makes me drowsy. So I fell asleep again, this time in an armchair for another hour and a half, waking up again at about midday. It's not until about 1 p.m., after I'd had a chat with my Dad and made a sandwich, that I felt more like myself again (whatever that is).

Why am I telling you all of this? Because something which has gone missing from me for years is writing this blog. It's been spluttering along, but actually writing something which is actually about my own life disappeared about a decade or so ago, at about the time when I had my first anxiety attack. So perhaps by putting some of that pain into words and shouting it out into the world, it'll help me come to terms with it a bit more. Why not just keep it as a personal journal? Because it'll force me to make it into something consumable by others.

This does, of course, fall under the genre of blog post "apologizing for not posting more," for which the obvious response is "no one cares, just post more." But at least I'm not starting a podcast. For one thing, I tried it once, and no one should have my speaking voice imposed on them, especially if it's unscripted, and also because it'll give me a moment to stop and think about what I'm about to write and even if I want it to go out into the world or just leave it in draft.

Also the Sugababes have a new single out.

26 National Art Library

 

Books  In Eric Rasmussen's catalogue of Shakespeare's First Folios, the 'manuscript annotations' section typically covers about half to three-quarters of a page. However, this copy features two full pages of dense text and a separate paragraph of general notes.  That’s because a previous owner took it upon themselves to correct the text in red pen, going through four history plays, changing every comma to a semicolon, underlining any artillery terms in King John, and sporadically ‘correcting’ modern English spellings to more contemporary versions (‘marlemas’ written above ‘Michaelmas’).  

Rasmussen suggests these annotations were the work of John Forster, the biographer and literary critic who was the final private owner before bequeathing his library to the National Art Library (now part of the Victoria and Albert Museum). However, the man who gifted it to him, Joseph C. King, a schoolmaster best known for educating two of Charles Dickens's sons, was the only other known owner.  Purely fantasy, probably, but it’s easy to imagine him poring over the text with the same zeal he applied to his students’ scripts, tutting and shaking his head as he proofread Henry VIII, writing ‘confessions’ above ‘commissions’.  That’s probably why these pages were chosen for display—they’re the least scarred.

Ticking this folio off the list was a happy accident.  For the past six months or so, I've been travelling down to London again thanks to Avanti Superfare, with mixed experiences.  The cheapness of the tickets has the caveat that because they're seat filling you don't know what time that will be.  Almost every month it's been the 11:45 am from Lime Street which means not arriving at Euston until 2:00 pm, with a return ticket at about 7:45 p.m., not so much a day trip as an afternoon 'rager' (if you can compare being overwhelmed by the intellectual brilliance of others in ancient buildings to drinking five Jägerbombs and chundering in a strangers garden which in my post-alcohol world you certainly can).  

What with that chronological uncertainty, this was my last trip down to London for a while (or at least until the price become low enough  for me to be able to afford an earlier journey) so I decided to return to the Theatre & Performance galleries, which were the site of my first visit.  The space has changed considerably in the past nine years.  Originally it was somewhat chronological with models of the original playhouses in the first section and sense of beginning at the beginning.  Now its much more thematic and based in crafts, with costume, set design, props and the rest given their own sections.  Fortunately Kylie's dressing room is still present and correct with its good luck lipstick greeting from Dannii on the mirror.

But still, right at the beginning, is Shakespeare's First Folio, and I surprised and delighted to find it wasn't the same edition displayed in 2016 and featured on television but the aforementioned volume last owned by Forster.  As you can see from the photo, it's displayed against a black background, mounted with a fair gap from the protective glass and for some reason parallel to a join so that it's impossible to look at it straight on, let alone get a picture of it.  You can just about make out that it's the second two pages of A Midsummer Night's Dream (146 & 147), the kids deep into the initial explanations of who loves who at that point.  If I'd known about the red "corrections" at the time I would have looked for them but they're not obvious from the photograph.

In terms of physical differences from other copies, Rasmussen notes in the First Folio catalogue that the authorship of a couple of plays is also questioned.  The title page of Cymbeline has "Not Shakespears, any part of it" written across it (don't tell Michael Blanding) and Titus Andronicus says "Not Shakespeare; scarce a word" even though Henry VI is right there.  Recent research from Brian Vickers (well, from 2002) suggests it could have been co-authored with George Peele so perhaps the statement might be partially correct.  Once it came into the National Art Library's possession they stamped it with 'Department of Science and Art 1876' in block capitals, along with 'Forester Bequest'.  It's also incomplete.  The preliminary pages (introduction and so forth) are 'poor-quality printed facsimiles'.  Every copy is different.  Next.

The 231163 Diaries:
Charlton Heston


History  Charlton Heston was an American actor. He gained stardom for his leading man roles in numerous Hollywood films including biblical epics, science-fiction films and action films  In the 1950s and early 1960s, he was one of a handful of Hollywood actors who openly denounced racism and he was also an active supporter of the civil rights movement. 

Some context: at this moment he's between jobs.  He's signed on for Major Dundee but isn't happy with the script - he says the female role is artificial and contrived.  On November 12, Heston visited Stan Laurel at his apartment in Santa Barbara talk about him collecting a Screen Actors Guild Award but the comedian's health prevents this and Danny Kaye accepts in his stead.

In this moment he's also still a Democrat.  He wouldn't join the Republicans until 1987, when he founded a conservative political action committee supporting Ronald Reagan. Heston was a five-term president of the National Rifle Association (NRA), from 1998 to 2003. After announcing that he had Alzheimer's disease in 2002, he retired from acting and the NRA presidency.

November 22. I was in Walter's office, on the phone, when one of his staff ran in, stammering, "I just heard Kennedy's been shot!" It's a blind, brutal, pointless act, and because of it we're much less than we were, or might have been. If you believe in our system, then you have to believe it won't fail because of this, but it will falter. Today, surely, we're all faltering. 

November 23. New York. I was given a purpose to carry me through this dark weekend, which I seized on eagerly. ABC called me this morning to fly to New York and take part in a memorial service they're rushing to air tomorrow. I spent the flight poring fruitlessly through my Shakespeare concordance looking for meaningful lines. In a meeting with ABC at the apartment, we chose some Psalms, and tentatively, some Frost. Kennedy liked Frost. 

November 24. I spent the morning redacting four Psalms . . . the nintieth, the ninety-first, the one hundred and twenty first, and the twenty-third . . . into one whole, which seemed apt. I also read "Stopping by Woods" and "Fire and Ice," from Frost. The poems seemed to me to say something. The program was . . . worth doing, I think. It's all we can do. 1 was one of the lucky few in those first numb days. I had something specific to do that could be called a response to the shock we all felt. 

November 25. New York/Los Angeles. I watched the caisson roll down Pennsylvania Avenue on TV while I dressed to go to the airport. Before we took off, there was a minute of silence there, and then we flew west, ahead of the sun, across the land he led, well or ill, but strongly, for less time than he deserved. Now we have to do, as all men must, the best we can. 

November 26. Los Angeles. The world, or at least my experience of it, slowly began to return to normal, though the waste of that tough man's death still stabs as you pick up the threads you dropped on Friday. I read through the second version of MAJOR DUNDEE which is . . . not much better, I guess, and did, really, not much else. I played with my son a little. We're building a model of an archaeological dig. This seems very important.

[Source: The Actor's Life, Charlton Heston : Journals, 1956-1976.]

[via Farran Smith Nehme on Bluesky.  You can read a review of the diaries on Neglected Books.]

A Chronological Viewing Order For All of Lucy Worsley's Documentaries.


TV   In the past couple of weeks the latest series of Lucy Worsley Investigates has been released on BBC Two and the iPlayer.  Not knowing what to expect, I headed into the first series, starting with The Witch Hunts and was struck once again with Worsley's ability to present difficult subjects with intellectual rigour but in an inclusive style that doesn't patronise the viewer.  

Until recently, every morning I'd watch a documentary of some sort, but age and tiredness have meant I've strayed instead into drama or "whatever's on YouTube".  I'd like to try to get back to that place and after completing the Witch Hunt (so to speak) wondered if Lucy Worsley could be my guide.  She hasn't produced that much, I thought, so it would be a good way back in.

But as her Wikipedia page revealed that she's created quite a large body of work in the past decade or so across various periods of history and BBC networks.  So, I then thought, perhaps I could just do the Investigates series and see where I go from there.  Then the part of my brain which wants to put everything in chronological order decided to take over and ...

Find below all of Lucy Worsley's appearances in history programmes, either presenting or as a guest in chronological order based on subject.  The years are what appear to be when the stories begin or the date of the particular event she's covering based on the programme synopsis or else googling around and squinting.

You'll notice I've arranged them around royal houses.  So much of her work is about the inner workings of court so this seemed appropriate, although it's also irrelevant in the 20th century.  At the bottom are all of the shows which couldn't fit easily into the main chronology because they're so thematic it would be impossible to try and slot them in anywhere.  

Also because I'm a masochist, I've also linked to each episode's programme page.  Quite a lot of what's here is available on the iPlayer and if it isn't, BBC Four will probably repeat it in the next twelve months anyway.  Otherwise there are probably various nefarious ways of finding them in the places you already know where to look.

* - Lucy was just a contributor
** - Portion of a programme

NB:  I've removed Lucy's name from the titles for the most part to stop this looking monotonous.

The Wessexes


The Normans



The Plantagenets



The Tudors


















The Stuarts















The Hanoverians




































The Saxe-Coburgs


1903    Suffragettes






The Windsors




1940    Blitz Spirit







Thematic