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92 machines like me

Monica Dunkley

June 26, 2019

Machines like me, by Ian McEwan.

Ok, this is a good one. I have a love-hate relationship with McEwan’s books, I’ve said this before. I think he’s astonishingly, fiendishly clever, smart, intelligent… call him what you wish… BUT I struggle to warm to his characters… I never bond with them, or actually ‘like’ them for that matter. I’ve read a lot of his books and they’re fantastic… but I feel there’s always something like a glass barrier that stops me from feeling emotionally connected. Even in stories like Atonement (the movie killed me by the way, so good) or the heartbreaking Chesil Beach…

Anyway, I was really interested in reading this because at the time I was researching an essay on algorithms and AI etc…. it was in a way relevant. Also… any excuse to buy a book is valid in my word.

Fabulous. Again, not particularly fond of any of the characters but oh boy, what a clever story. And how many questions the books leaves you with. Unanswerable ones. Scary ones.

The story is set in the 80s, but a different 80s… Turin (the enigma dude) hadn’t died… he had chosen to go prison instead and whilst locked up continued his amazing thinking/inventing, so we’re now in a place far more advanced in terms of AI, autonomous cars etc. I’m sure McEwan had great fun creating this background for the story…. Kennedy doesn’t get killed, the Falkland war is lost… all different… sadly all still a mess so there you go…

The main character buys the latest AI creature with his inheritance money… and the story unfolds.

What makes us human? What is conscience? Do we have power/ownership over ‘robots/androids’ who are infinitively more intelligent than us?

Seriously, if you have any thoughts for the future do read this book, asks yourself if what we’re doing is correct, if being human is really that special? Are we more special? Why? What compels us to frankly carry on regardless? And if you have never thought about the future (and I’m not talking next summer…), do read this book, because the world is heading somewhere, we like it or not.

I don’t want to give away the story, but this is a novel not to miss.

Out of interest… how do you read the title? ‘like’ as in the verb ‘to like’…machines love me… or ‘like’ as in I am like a machine? I’m curious. When he was asked at the Hay Festival he wouldn’t answer… cheeky sod.

91 poetry Tuesday

Monica Dunkley

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June 25, 2019

ah… the irony of posting this poem on the day it’s raining with Biblical force… stay dry my friends!

In Summer time by Paul Laurence Dunbar

When summer time has come, and all
The world is in the magic thrall
Of perfumed airs that lull each sense
To fits of drowsy indolence;
When skies are deepest blue above,
And flow’rs aflush,–then most I love
To start, while early dews are damp,
And wend my way in woodland tramp
Where forests rustle, tree on tree,
And sing their silent songs to me;
Where pathways meet and path ways part,–
To walk with Nature heart by heart,
Till wearied out at last I lie
Where some sweet stream steals singing by
A mossy bank; where violets vie
In color with the summer sky,–
Or take my rod and line and hook,
And wander to some darkling brook,
Where all day long the willows dream,
And idly droop to kiss the stream,
And there to loll from morn till night–
Unheeding nibble, run, or bite–
Just for the joy of being there
And drinking in the summer air,
The summer sounds, and summer sights,
That set a restless mind to rights
When grief and pain and raging doubt
Of men and creeds have worn it out;
The birds’ song and the water’s drone,
The humming bees’ low monotone,
The murmur of the passing breeze,
And all the sounds akin to these,
That make a man in summer time
Feel only fit for rest and rhyme.
Joy springs all radiant in my breast;
Though pauper poor, than king more blest,
The tide beats in my soul so strong
That happiness breaks forth in song,
And rings aloud the welkin blue
With all the songs I ever knew.
O time of rapture! time of song!
How swiftly glide thy days along
Adown the current of the years,
Above the rocks of grief and tears!
‘Tis wealth enough of joy for me
In summer time to simply be

90 recap

Monica Dunkley

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June 24, 2019

Can’t believe it’s been a week. It was a busy week, ‘to be fairs’ (teenage lingo… stick with me)… culminated with me sleeping three hours Saturday afternoon and then 12 hours straight that night. I just can’t hack it anymore.

ok, let’s see if I can remember it all…

I went to see this movie with my sister:

and it was great. Not at all what I was expecting, but brilliant. Emma Thompson is, as usual, fantastic. (And so is Mindy Kaling by the way)

I had my nails done. I never have my nails done… I do it myself and I’m terrible and it lasts two days and I moan what a waste of time it is and then try again…

I had my nails done because we went to a black tie even – on a school night! – and wanted to feel grown up…

Late night. Champagne. Wine. Moira Stewart did the hosting and I totally chickened out from going to say hello. Should have had more champagne.

The following night Mr M had his ‘new office’ launch party… he created the most amazing place for his company (SLG Beauty) and the party was phenomenal…

We got spruced up again… and the boys came too…

there was a ball pit…

… and cocktails…

and hundreds of people, friends, family, music, dancers and the most amazing atmosphere…

I lost my voice, my feet were killing me and we rocked into bed after 2am.

Saturday I was dead.

Not even the cricket could wake me up…

I’m obviously being sarcastic, since when cricket woke anyone up? It was nice to see the sun though – to be fairs (see first para above). So I slept whilst Mr M drove No 2 to the airport, he’s spending a week in Tuscany with my parents doing some work for them. Good boy.

Sunday was a lazy one.

And now it’s Monday, No 3 is gone away with school camping in Wales for 5 days; it’s weird to have just one child in the house. Well… a 6’2″ child… it’s not really a child but still…

Have a good week, folks, it’s going to be a scorcher!

89 trivet

Monica Dunkley

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June 18, 2019

I feel totally restless at the moment… cabin feverish too. My hands are itching to make things but I lack the inspiration and the focus for anything and it’s driving me insane.

My studio is a mess because I’m not happy how the space is working… I need to make a corner for studying and I might paint the wall but I’m not sure what to move and where… it’s tricky. Or maybe not. I’m deifinitively over thinking the whole thing.

So I made a trivet, because who doesn’t need trivets, right? AND I taught myself a few things along the way which helped the brain staying sane.

Instructions come from this book:

… which is fab and modern and makes you want to knot all day long.

I used a 6″ wooden embroidery hoop (half… who knows where the other half has gone) and, get ready for this 22 feet of rope. YUP, twenty two feet… macrame eats rope like my kids eat Nutella. Greedily.

I think it’s worth it. It keeps the brain engaged and focussed, and the result is ever so pretty all the time.

And useful.

Part of the reason why I’m struggling at the moment is that I don’t need anything and it seems silly to carry on making things just for the sake of it… equally ‘the sake of it’ is the fun bit and I’m back full circle at the beginning.

Sigh.

Ignore me. I just need sun and warmth and then I’ll be fine…

88 poetry Monday

Monica Dunkley

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June 17, 2019

If truth be told I feel quite lost without ‘college work/reading’ so I’m trying to keep up with the habit and dedicate some time everyday to read through the huge mountains of books piled up by my bed…

poem by Brian Bilston

if there’s one thing
I have learnt
as I got older
it’s that books
light up love
and make it smoulder
because beauty
is in the eye
of the book holder

Have a good week!

87 Wiksten Shift ‘Top’

Monica Dunkley

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June 14, 2019

Jenny does it again. A gorgeous pattern with detailed simple instructions that comes together easily and fits perfectly.

The pattern itself (you can buy the paper version or if you can’t wait, the pdf format. Easy peasy) comes with three variations and it’s very good value for money. There is a gorgeous summer dress, a tunic and a short top. Also a choice of 3/4 sleeves or short sleeves. Pockets/no pockets.

I wasn’t sure what size to do so I went for the ‘top’ version (less fabric required) and used a piece of IKAT fabric I’ve had for ages, figuring that if it worked out at least I could wear it around the house. Well, well, well… I love it!

A wearable muslin indeed.

I wouldn’t change a thing and as soon as I get two minutes I’m going to attempt the dress. The instructions are a little bit different but not impossible, even for my rusty sewing self.

In terms of fit this is a bad photo because I hate taking selfies… but it gives you an idea. I think it would look much better with a long skirt or wide trousers, but the plumber and electricians are about (leaky roof/damaged wires) and I’m really not into flashing my wares.. so black jeans it is.

(oh and I made size 6 – UK10 and I’d it’s spot on)

86 puy lentils with aubergine, tomatoes and yoghurt

Monica Dunkley

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June 13, 2019

Except I used green lentils and buffalo mozzarella…

BUT let’s rewind….

The recipe is from this book…

… which is brilliant by the way…

I had a couple of aubergines (eggplants, for you across the ocean) in the fridge which were about to die so I made an amended version of this dish. Also, can you believe I had never roasted an aubergines before this morning? Ridiculous, it’s so easy.

Ingredients:

As I said before I modified it slightly… first of all I didn’t have puy lentils so I used a can of Lentils ‘vert’ I had in the cupboard. Then I omitted the oregano because I’m not too fond AND the garlic because I didn’t fancy it. ALSO I replaced the yoghurt with fresh buffalo mozzarella because a friend brought me the real thing from Italy a couple of days ago and it’s divine.

Buon Appetito!

85 Grief is the thing with feathers

Monica Dunkley

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June 12, 2019

Grief is the thing with feathers by Max Porter.

Every once in a while you stumble upon a book that totally surprises you. A book that is not what you expected but it’s so beautiful and so memorable and remarkable and ‘dazzling’ as a someone said that you know you will never forget it.

It’s the story of what happens after a tragic loss, a mother, a wife. The husband left behind, two boys. About what happens, how to carry on living.

It’s a small book, but mighty. It’s a little bit like a novel. A little bit like a poem. A little bit magic.

I don’t want to say too much because everyone should discover it in his/her own time. Read it slowly. Savour the words. Listen to the words, let them echo in your mind. Put it down, read it again and again.

A word of warning: it’ll break your heart in tiny pieces. And then it’ll put all those pieces back together… because… you know… it’s all about love.

Just read it. And then read it again.

84 a baby quilt

Monica Dunkley

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June 10, 2019

Yes, you read correctly I actually made a quilt. In real life (as the boys used to say, when they were small and cute and still did as I asked them too). We’re on our last week of exams: A levels, GCSEs and end of year … all three boys are at it. It’s not pretty, folks.

Anyway… I give you a real life, baby quilt for a most gorgeous boy still small and cute.

The crazy thing is that I still managed to make it without having to buy fabric and without leaving a visible dent to the fabric stash either, although in fairness people better start having girls now… there’s a lot of girlie stuff on those shelves.

I used some of my favourite… those goldfish with googly eyes.. and the cute cars… I’ve had those for years…

I only had enough for two square of the elephants one, but had to include it. The binding is a fabulous Anna Maria Horner fabric cut on the bias (go me!) and I’m particularly happy I had enough of it. It uplifts the whole thing, me thinks.

It is only a tiny quilt, 36″ by 36″ but I find that size useful for prams or carry on play mat when mine were little, about 467594935 million years ago.

AND it felt soooo good to be sewing again… I managed to make this up in just under three hours on Saturday afternoon and it was a wonderful, quiet way to spend my birthday (which was great by the way, everybody was super nice and I received thoughtful presents and cards from lots of people!). I didn’t even listen to the radio or a podcast… nothing. Silence and the hum of the sewing machine. Bliss.

My next project will the be Wiksten’ Shift. I printed out the pattern, stuck it all together and I just need to wash the fabric and before that decide which one to go for… I have a charcoal linen and a mid blue/denim linen… mmmhhhh decision decision… (I’ve used Jenny’s patterns before, they are brilliant and always fit well, and the instructions are super detailed, which is what I need!).

Wish me luck!

83 49 years of books

Monica Dunkley

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June 7, 2019

Believe it or not, my old quest of ’48 years of books’ is still going on; I had to put it on the back burner because of all the other college reading I had to do, but I’m determined to finish it before I turn 50 even though it’s now… ‘the 49 years of books challenge’… ahem…

So without further ado:

The Blackwater Lightship by Colm Toibin.

Finally, after months of non-fiction I read a proper story. Beautifully written, real characters that you care about, every day life.

It felt like drinking a cool glass of water on a hot day.

It’s a story of a family, three generations of women in conflicts, misunderstanding, love, tragedy and loss. I meant it’s not a laugh a minute, but the prose is beautiful, emotional and delicate and profound. I absolutely devoured it and was really sad when I finished it. I wanted more.

It took me a while to work out that it’s the same author of ‘Brooklyn’ – and many other for that matter, so if you’ve enjoyed that one you’ll love this one. Brilliant writer, must read his other books.

For some time, then, no one would appear in the landscape; the sea would roar softly and withdraw without witnesses or spectators. It did not need her watching, and in these hours, she thought, or during the long reaches of the night, the sea wa more itself, monumental and untouchable. […] Imaginings and resonances and pain and small longings and prejudices. They mean nothing against the resolute hardness of the sea. They meant less than the marl and the mud and the dry clay of the cliff that were eaten away by the weather, washed away by the sea. It was not just that they would fade: they hardly existed, they did not matter, they would have no impact on this cold dawn, this deserted remote seascape where the water shone in the early light and shocked her with its sullen beauty.