Diana Spencer
I love the frisson of terror that live theatre produces. For me, in the audience, it's as thrilling as a high-wire act to see people transformed by stepping into performance space, becoming something entirely other to their everyday selves. Will that transformation stick? Will I suspend or wallow in my disbelief? Will some element of the … Continue reading Shepherding thought (and a coda from Varro)
As the centenary of Ireland's Easter 1916 Rising approaches, no doubt with all sorts of moving, surprising, challenging, thought-provoking events encouraging reflexion on a century's accretion of meaning, as so often, my thoughts return to Rome. I like to think that Rome's ever-presence in my frame of reference is charming. It certainly draws on my … Continue reading Echoes of Garibaldi
I'm still reeling from the beauty of our tiny holiday to Ponza. You know how it goes: you're sitting in a bar, or maybe a restaurant, with friends. It's an early summer evening, but that back-note of Rome's high summer mugginess is already beginning to wisp tendrils round your neck, presaging the hot soupy air … Continue reading processing pleasure
Making distinctions and observing boundaries are two activities central to my working life. They tend to bleed through, inevitably, to the rare minutes when I believe myself instead to be at liberty. I was struck in various ways, recently, by the near-impossibility of delivering crisp limits in an increasingly greyscale academic/life framework. Three images are … Continue reading b/w
We traversed the Tiber left to right one day early in July, and meandering down by Porto Fluviale as we began to set our sights on Testaccio and Home, we passed Sonino Camping etc., where last summer we bought cheap and cheerful deckchairs for the roof terrace. From the slow-flowing, golden (after a downpour) Tiber, … Continue reading Serendip
Rome and all that... 