Mo Chuisneoir - Saiorse

Listening to something by Dead Can Dance

We have been trying to watch The Convent over the last few weeks having watched The Monastery last year. However, while my wife managed to keep up with it and indeed shush me on the few occasions when I got annoyed enough to comment; it did seem that the women were much more involved with earthly concerns than the men from the Monastery. Much of the friction came from the discipline that the women had to follow – or in most cases not follow. They annoyed me just by not actually finding anything spiritual anywhere. Now I am not sure whether this was because the order (The Poor Clares) is closed and not used to the free spirits that were dumped on them or because the women were just more earth-bound than the men. I am afraid I did not like two of the women at all; they were not much more than giggling schoolgirls which is sad considering that one of them is a poet who, from her website, seems quite likeable. I don’t want to carry on with this much because I suspect that the artificial situation would put anyone into a strange state. I will just say that Sister Gabriel had an otherworldly aura which to me seemed to be able to calm down anything. While mentoring one of the women, I wanted to shout “look at her! Look at her! See how happy she is? Ask her why?” But then again I’m not a bohemian and never have been.

Not like my brother who lived in a huge rambling flat in a huge rambling house overlooking The Valley under the Malvern Hills. There were things everywhere without actually having anything in a place where it could be considered to be at home. Drum machines and Keyboards and a collection of art magazines that would require a top shelf from here to Clare Curtis-Thomas’ house. He seemed to live on Vesta Curries – those powdered thingies rendered exotic by the addition of a handful of sultanas – and beer. He was a new romantic as well for a time though most of his outfits involved baggy trousers with tank-tops tucked in.

I feel a poem coming on. Something with the word fragile in it – pronounced in the American way to rhyme (almost) with cudgel. Maybe you will get to see it some time. The future’s so bright.