Sea Change (Or: You Learn Something New Every Day)

I spent six hours on the train today, plus an hour and a half in the car and half an hour walking. I had a two hour meeting. I can't wait to get to bed.

However, this did mean that I got a fair amount of knitting done and I listened to all of A Tale of Two Cities, as planned. Once that was finished, I turned to the Play of the Week podcast.

I love Play of the Week because you never know what you're going to hear.
I hate Play of the Week because you never know what you're going to hear.

It's a great way to discover new things but it's difficult to feel in the mood for something that could be in pretty much any genre. That sort of diversity is great in many ways but, when my brain is a bit full of work at the end of the day, there's a very good reason that I listen to comedies.

So when I finished A Tale of Two Cities while wandering the streets of Birmingham in search of sushi,  I looked at the latest PTW podcast on my ipod. Sea Change. Well that could be anything. Absolutely anything. Especially as it was from Radio 3 (which feels a bit like treason). But it was an hour and a half which is a very good length if you need something to occupy you between Birmingham New Street and Bristol Parkway.

Sea Change is a drama set in the years before the second world war. It focuses on several key figures in and around government and their fight against appeasement.
My first thought was: This could be interesting.
Second: This could be interesting and Carl Prekopp.
Third: Is it appropriate to be listening to steamy almost-sex scenes on the train?
Fourth: Bridgwater?!

Although the play starts and ends in London, a large section of the central part of the drama takes place in the Westcountry. Burnham gets a mention, as does Higbridge (I'll brush over the fact that this is in connection with typhoid). A key political speech take place in Athelney. Why? Because the key turning point of the story centres on the Bridgwater by-election of 1938.

As far as I knew, Bridgwater's significance to history ended with the Battle of Sedgemoor in 1685. Idiot.

Thanks to Radio 3 and their interesting, absorbing and surprising drama, I now know that the people of Bridgwater took a stand against appeasement. They elected a sort of coalition candidate, supported by all the major parties, on an anti-appeasement platform. He held his seat for 12 years.

I'm stunned. Partly because, well, it's Bridgwater! And also because it's rather sad that I didn't know this. I'm not particularly stupid, I have a fair-to-middling interest in both politics and my local area. I shouldn't have needed to learn this from a random podcast. I feel like the people of Bridgwater should be reminded of the important part that their town has played. A by-election in a piddling little Somerset town was fought on a national issue. Just about the most important national issue imaginable. 

So thank you, Radio 3, for the much-needed lesson in how local history played a part on the national stage. And for teaching me that stations don't need a 4 in their name to have good drama.

Get dressed you merry gentlemen!

I love days when I have absolutely no plans so I've been very much looking forward to today. About the only thing I needed to achieve today was, ideally, making mince pies to distribute in place of Christmas cards. Well, I procrastinated for a while but eventually ended up listening to the Cabin Pressure Christmas special while making these:
 

Excessive pies mark the official start of Christmas



I heard the Christmas episode of Cabin Pressure last year. I remembered that it was funny but I'd forgotten just how funny. There are a lot of things I find amusing but Cabin Pressure makes me laugh out loud. Frequently and at significant volume.

I was particularly happy to hear at the end of the episode that they'll be broadcasting the first series from next week because I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't warm to it at first and I've only heard some of the more recent episodes. I don't really have any excuse except that I didn't give it the time it deserved at first because I thought that it might be too much situation and not enough comedy. Once again: idiot.

The Christmas special was the perfect example of properly funny jokes balanced by the interesting relationships between the characters. I think it's this that makes Cabin Pressure so great: the characters are more than just a method of getting jokes across, they feel like people you might very well know from your office. Or possibly eccentric members of your extended family. I was going to say "except maybe Arthur" but then I remembered a colleague, a nice girl but she had more in common with Arthur than any real person should.

Though I'm not really in a position to comment, today I was entirely empathising with Arthur and his overwhelming love of Christmas. As someone who has constructed decorations for her office out of garden canes, tacking thread and paper snowflakes made from old application forms, I think that an umbrella decorated with milk pots sounded pretty amazing.

Considering some of the more bleak Christmas radio (I'm looking at you, The Holly and the Ivy) it was fantastic to have something so decidedly pro-festive-spirit to listen to while making endless mince pies. Thank you John Finnemore, you genius, and thank you 4Extra for broadcasting it this week.


sucky stripes



Anyway, about the only other thing I've managed to achieve today is a test knit panel for my hat. Charting it actually proved to be easier than I thought but what's really giving me trouble now is colours. The default blue for 4ply is a boring powder blue and it's cramping my stripes. I suck at colour at the best of times and this is not the best of times. Plus the panel has turned out waaaay to small so I'll be knitting another, with bigger needles. And possibly more adventurous stripes now that I have caved in and bought another ball of wool. Unfortunately, it's a oddly bright turquoise that I'd never normally touch but I can't shake the idea that I can somehow make it work.

Also, I'm beginning to wonder if the calm, plant-y design in my head might not actually be a bit sinister and thorny now it's approaching reality.

I think I may like it better that way.



Any excuse is a good excuse

In my book, any excuse for a Dickens season is a good one. And a 200 year anniversary is about as good as excuses get. Although Dickens was born in February, no one will begrudge the BBC starting their season in time for Christmas. In fact, I think they've shown more restraint than I might but then I'm rather partial to Dickens dramatisations, especially when they're on a suitably large scale.

That's why (with the possible exception of the Cabin Pressure special) the new version of A Tale of Two Cities is the radio programme that I'm most looking forward to this Christmas. I was surprised to see the BBC promoting it as the first version for radio in twenty years: I had no idea that the previous version 4 Extra dates from 1989. Maybe 20 years isn't as long ago as I think it is.

I always felt there was something fascinating about Dickens but, until I read A Christmas Carol, I never managed to get further than the first page or so of anything I tried. Probably because of the staggering sentence lengths. I think perhaps I couldn't understand why he was so respected when he didn't know how to express himself concisely. But, when I had a little more patience, I threw myself into A Christmas Carol and loved it like a private secret. I felt as though it had revealed the hidden code and truth behind every adaptation and reinterpretation of the story.

Over the last few years I've kept an eagle eye out for the various Dickens dramas that have appeared on 4 Extra. Although there have been some great versions of Oliver Twist, Little Dorrit and other well known books, I've most enjoyed the stories I didn't know.

I'm not sure what initially put me off A Tale of Two Cities, probably the idea of the setting. I don't really know what I was expecting but I do know that I was very wrong. The seven hour 1989 version drew me in to a surprising extent. There's a clarity to the story that I love and the threads that draw the characters ever closer are strong and fascinating. A Tale of Two Cities fascinated me and I decided to by a copy of the book.

The time between a decision and me actually acting on it can be long. Very long. And for some reason my irrational wariness had returned. Okay, so A Christmas Carol is one thing. But A Tale of Two Cities... well... a book set in the French revolution is going to be hard going. What if I can't make it through? I love the story but what if it's all just too grim?

Idiot.

I love books, with rather fastidious care and attention to corners I keep them safe, never crack a spine and refuse to lend them - even to my closest family - for fear of the terrible fates that might befall them. This is not an attitude that lends itself to buying second hand books. That much book-abuse is just too hard to look at. But in Dunster there's a little second-hand/rare book shop and there I found a little pocket copy of A Tale of Two Cities. It's not glamorous but it's small, has delicate thin pages and a blue cloth cover (something I find irresistible in any book).

I started reading that night and I couldn't believe what a fool I'd been. Not only was it easy going but I couldn't believe the humour of it, nor how much it touched me.

"A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other."

Has anyone ever put it better? I can't imagine how.

So I am very much looking forward to the new adaptation. Hopefully five 45 minute plays will do it justice, it's a story that deserves its every vile tw, ever good deed and every tragic turn in all their perfect detail. My only complaint is that Carl Prekopp will be wasted as Jerry Cruncher.

Oh, and I do wish it was being broadcast a little closer to February. I've not quite finished reading yet.