Wales has given us many great exports besides coal. One has been the beauty of its poetry, and the other the beauty of its music. In the video clip below, from 1970, Tom Jones does something other than sway his hips — he recites for us from countryman Dylan Thomas’ A Child’s Christmas in Wales. Accompanying him is The Treorchy Male Choir, singing holiday carols in the lovely sounds of the Welsh choral tradition.
It’s taken me a few weeks to get back into gear, what with coping with current situations, and Diana’s temporary leaving. But I’m back in harness, and should be able to keep going with some careful juggling of money.
=====
You’ll find several churches in the Ville de Coeur regions, and one cathedral, which I discovered through the Destination Guide. (Yeah, we’re spending a lot of time in the Mediterranean lately. That’s how it’s working out.) This church (which holds services most Sundays at 11:00 a. m. SLT, as I understand) is a fairly faithful recreation of the Real World’s Amalfi Cathedral, also called Il Cattedrale di Sant’Andrea (dedicated to Saint Andrew).
“… [I]n the absence of sensory information, the imagination always tends to the grotesque.”
Patrick McGrath
I’ve been doing a little cleanup in my Inventory, and found this gown. It’s vintage now, along with the hair and fur, but worth sharing in some photos.Read the rest of this entry »
I am that woman who would wait for dawn, Nor slept while the slow moon rode into sight;
Who, fighting weariness, gazed full upon The starry circle drawn around the night.
I saw the Milky Way fade like a cloud, And, drowsy-lidded, watched the distance grow Between me and the Pleiades, nor bowed To heavy hands of sleep upon my brow.
Then, when night grew more stilly palpitate Listening for the faint birth-cry of morn, And the cock crew, I, at the very gate, Fell into cloddish slumber, all out-worn.
Even as I slept, soft as a look or sigh, The Dawn with Love beside her passed me by.
Zana Sherman was fortunate that this weekend wasn’t as academically busy as it would become closer to the end of term. It seemed that her social calendar was compensating, by sending her invitations to meet with people she loved or enjoyed. Aside from Alon Cohen on Friday night, though, she was holding things to only an hour or so, and joining up with them on the way to other venues, such as the laundry or the Psych House … the graduate students’ name for the departmental offices. Even for a college student … at least one as diligent as Zana … socializing wasn’t everything ….
But she stretched the limits at Saturday lunch, because the meal was with Dara Furtano-Fa. The relationship with “Big Sis” ran back to when Dara had saved the lives of both Zana and her mother on the construction stage of The Land of Fantasy, her mother’s famous theatre. Not only had Zana met Dara that day, but the accident had set events in motion that led to Dara’s getting the cyborg conversion she had desired … and all that had arisen in the ‘borg community since.
Both women had a fondness for a restaurant in Vidran’s Arosen sector that offered what the owner called “Mongolian grill,” but served up al fresco. They were deep in discussion at a shady table outside the restaurant, situated on a food court in one corner of the district’s park. “And so the term’s going well so far?” Dara asked as their tea arrived. The sun of Videra’s primary glinted off her sunglasses, worn mostly for fashion’s sake, as ‘borgs’ eyes were quite capable of handling bright sunshine. (The sun also gleamed off the integuments of both women, golden on Zana and silver on Dara; they had chosen the shady table to spare the eyes of other diners and passersby as much as possible from the reflection.)
Zana stepped back into her apartment the next morning, thoroughly relaxed by the night’s activities … all of the night’s activities. It had been a stressful term so far, even for a cyborg; of course, graduate studies were always stressful, but psychology was tougher than most. And add into that my personal psychotherapy starts in two weeks, she thought as she moved into her bedroom to change out of her finery, into a casual unitard. God knows what little gremlins will turn up then! She had always considered herself well adjusted and mentally healthy. Who but God could guess what a qualified psychotherapist would find …? Then her lips quirked back in a mercurial change of mood. Although her career would be made, perhaps, as the author of the first case study on a ‘borg in the literature!
The small jest improved Zana’s mood; but she still felt the need for some encouragement, or at least a shoulder to cry on for a few picoseconds. Glancing again at the holographs on the mantel, she regretted not returning home to her parents’ house. Still, there were other ways of getting together with family … not as satisfyingly tactile, but they would do in a pinch …. She said to the room, “Computer, please call Ariel Sherman, home code, full holo.” She sat on her couch as the computer beeped.
Shortly, a full-body image of her mother, wearing a green casual outfit and a purple silk duster, appeared in the holoprojection field created by the comm program. “Hi, sweet one! What makes you call on this fine Saturday morning?”
Second Life® with Harper, Conan, Jem, Diana and Morgan
If you like what you read, then please consider linking back. We also link to other Second Life blogs we think are good. You may also retweet any individual article on Twitter, when looking at that article, by clicking on the "Tweet" button just above the Comments section.
Around the Grid is willing to provide unbiased and unreserved reviews of Resident-created and -sold, non-pornographic products, especially fashion and hairstyles, and of Real World books on Second Life. Submissions for review should be sent in world to Harper Ganesvoort.
Book publishers please contact harper.ganesvoort@gmail.com for instructions.
All submissions become the property of Around the Grid.
We reserve the right to not write about a submitted item at our discretion.
Archives
Episcopal Relief and Development
Please consider donating, especially in times of disaster, to Episcopal Relief and Development, a worldwide ministry of the Episcopal Church in the United States. 100% of your donation goes to relief work; no administrative costs are taken from contributions.
