I'm enjoying the gradual though inevitably slow process of scanning a lifetime of photos into digital form. This morning I've been looking back over some of the images made in recent Septembers. For me they are beautiful reminders. 2010 09 12 :: London, the Conway Hall, a Day for Gerald - and right at the end of the day I had my twenty minutes to take the stage and pay tribute to Dafo, the woman who introduced Gerald Gardner to the Old Religion : the woman, but for whom, there would be no Wicca today .. 2009 :: quiz nights at the Gloucester Arms ; a Day for Doreen at the Conway Hall ; the Magic Café ; and a procession from a local church singing the Lourdes Hymn as they passed along Norreys Avenue .. 2008 :: meandering round and about in Oxford ; and going to a not very good Continuing Education weekend course. 2007 :: the house opposite is up for auction ; neighbours at the far end of the street invited us all to a street party .. 2006 :: I revelled in a copy of the Gutenburg Bible .. 2005 :: apart from a visit to Far From the Madding Crowd, I seem to have wandered not far from home .. 2004 :: lacuna in September 2003 :: I was with Janet and Katy in Oxford ; I dreamed along the streets and shops of Camden Town as part of my Goth interlude in London and in Oxford .. 2002 :: to Leeds for their annual Pagan Federation Conference - I spoke about The Magus of Marylebone .. 2001 :: there was Broomstick and there was the magnificent URP Moot in Manchester, laus deabus 2000 :: to the Abbots bromley horn dance with Trin Forest and Nikki .. 1999 :: no images scanned as yet, but this was the month I returned to Oxford from my interlude in the Forest of Dean and with Katy set up a Wicca and Witchcraft study group.. francis cameron, oxford, 31 august 2011
Wednesday 31 August 2011
Sunday 28 August 2011
Friday 26 August 2011
the pleasure of finding things out
Try as I might, I can't help feeling I've been led astray. I went to my first meeting of our Non-fiction Reading Group on the last Wednesday of July and afterwards I decided to follow up with a second visit on the last Wednesday of this month (August 2011). My decision was reached partly because the book under consideration was by Richard Feynman and partly because a number of us went to the pub afterwards, which is a good thing. A couple of days later I went out to buy a copy of the Feynman and it's here I began to feel mislead. The assistant fetched a copy of the book. I stared at it in disbelief. I'd expected something to whet the scientific side of my mind. The cover was straight out of a horror comic combined with elements of Hitchcock's Birds as forward publicity for one of those downgrading late night reality television shows. I found it hard to believe this was a publication of the Penguin series, a series which has produced so many noteworthy titles. This really did look like a cheap paperback. Something to drop in the trash can as soon as it'd served its immediate purpose. The bookshop's online catalogue advertised a price of £7-99. The man behind the counter stuck at £9-99, explaining that the cheaper price was part of a '3 for 2' deal. I felt cheated. There was no way I could buy that book in that shop for £7-99. I politely made my distaste known and indicated I'd be likely to shop elsewhere another time. Amazon offers a far better deal. I've been uneasy with the book ever since I finished reading the editor's introduction. After a great deal of mulling, I come to the conclusion that it's not a book by Richard P. Feynman at all. It's a collection of transcripts of a dozen or so of his talks, a selection made and edited by Jeffrey Robbins, whose name does not appear on the front cover, and who appears to have been content to leave the transcripts close to the form in which the words were spoken. The real problem with this, is that the words in front of us are a constant reminder of the immense difference between speaking and writing. When I project myself into the room with Feynman's audience I appreciate how much the speaker's personality, his pauses, his inflections, his changes of pitch and pace, his gestures, his body language, all contribute to the effect his words have on his listeners. But none of this is reproduced - if, indeed, it is reproduceable - when the words alone are present on the page. It's a common problem, a situation so familiar it's all too easy to overlook it. I found myself unable to finish most of the chapters, however hard I tried to stick at it. I'm left with the impression that Feynman spoke very much on the spur of the moment and not from a prepared text nor even a set of headings set out on slips of paper. One thought leads to another without necessarily delving deep. Walking with Feynman is to enjoy the passage along the road with no compulsion to reach out for a destination. The man himself is more than sufficient to provoke the wish to repeat the experience. For myself - at the end of the exercise I remain very disappointed save for one or two points of illumination. Somewhere He remarks on particles moving backwards in time. A thought which provokes some very interesting possibilities. Elsewhere he spoke of the importance of doubt as part of the scientific method. For these gems, if for nothing else, I am glad to have made this passing acquaintance with some of his words of encouragement. francis cameron, oxford, 26 august 2011
so many thoughts
I have to admit :: today's one of those days when there are so many different trains of though spinning round in my head, I just don't know where to begin. I want to convince myself that I have one subject which takes priority over all the others, but then I find I've no more than one sentence I could write about it. I guess I'll just have to let things take their course. By later on, ideas will have digested themselves and I'll be able to pick on one to treat with a certain degree of reality.
francis cameron, oxford 26 august 2011
francis cameron, oxford 26 august 2011
Thursday 25 August 2011
The Hour
I have been watching The Hour, a four-part series transmitted by BBC2. On the face of it, it's about an incipient one-hour television evening news and comment programme confronted with the realities of the Suez Crisis in 1956. On one side, Anthony Eden's government desperately keen to restrict the BBC's coverage of events to the strictly official version. On the other, a vast and popular protest against an illegal act of war.
I remember the circumstances so well. In particular I remember the Sunday evening sermon preached by the vicar of St Barnabas, Pimlico, where I was organist. I sat horrified in the organ loft as I listened to his impassioned tirade against the British Government. Had I had a copy of the music with me, I would have played Land of Hope and Glory at the end of the service as my own personal protest against the unpatriotic words I had heard from the pulpit. I was a very different person in those days. I had been too well conditioned by my Public School education. We were brought up to cherish the ways of the Conservative Establishment.
As I switched off at the end of the final instalment, I wondered what motive had driven the BBC to show The Hour. Was it simply to give themselves a pat on the back for standing up to the threats of an authoritarian government? Or was there some more immediate motive? What, indeed, had provoked the writer to compose the script in the first place?
For my part, I am glad to have seen an extract from Anthony Eden speaking on the television – and the clip of Opposition protests in Trafalgar Square. Television is potentially a much more powerful medium than the printing press even, perhaps especially, when the pictures and the sounds condition themselves as part of Showbizz.
francis cameron, oxford, 25 august 2011
Wednesday 24 August 2011
thinking about networking
Having lots of time to think results in lots of stray thoughts being gathered in, thoughts that I probably wouldn't think about otherwise. So I came round to the business of social networking. Facebook has brought back to me friends from times long past and family I'd lost touch with. Then there are all those I've known for years because of the very much missed urp. Happily several of them are now on Facebook, but there are others I remember only as long out of-date-email addresses. And I'd like to be in touch with a wider circle of those who share my esoteric interests. So what to do about it? I do what I usually do - because I'm of that generation. I go and look for a book. It's much easier than in pre-online days. (Gosh! Am I really that old? Surely it can't be more than 40 years since I was first introduced to JANET. ) I log on to the County Library site and browse through the catalogue. Half an hour later I have a list of a dozen authors and their Dewey numbers. The next morning I'm in the Central Library. I'm digging round the 302/303 shelves. It's doesn't take long to make the cut. Two or three texts with 'possible' titles are like Alice's sister's book : page after page of unattractive prose - and no pictures. Those go back. Straight back. One or two are pre-entry-level. The opposite end of the scale. But quite soon I have two softbacks in my hand and I'm sitting in a comfortable armchair in a good light. And as I leave on the way out, I use the self-service checkout which prints a little ticket to remind me of the date due back and the one other title I still have at home. Deckers and Lacy [2011] is exactly what you'd expect from an American publication. Full of the Good News of winsome objectives and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. There's just a background tinge of the American Dream and the joys and rewards of the Protestant Work Ethic. Strive hard and all this shall be added unto you. But I'm under no obligation to follow literally every step, every injunction, every helping hand held out. I sample the bits that attract me. Entice me. I make a list. Their daily and weekly schedules fit nicely onto an Excel worksheet. I'll do it a little bit at a time. I must leave myself enough time to think ..
francis cameron, oxford, 24 august 2011
francis cameron, oxford, 24 august 2011
Monday 22 August 2011
Sunday 21 August 2011
Saturday 20 August 2011
Tuesday 16 August 2011
farewell, dear friend
Farewell, dear Friend. You came from Simpsons in Piccadilly in those heady days of 1968 when I was doing so well in London and looking for pay dirt on the other side of the world. You were the height of fashion for a Dinner Jacket with your high buttons and little velvet collar. I enjoyed your trim fitting every time I dressed up and walked on in public in your company. Now, alas, we have to part. You and I were very trim before we boarded the old Iberia together. You have kept your looks. My waistline now sags. The trousers no longer button up. The jacket buttons have no hope of reaching their designed designation. Into the Charity Shop bag you must go. Take with you that handsome Harris Tweed Sports Jacket which has hung alongside you for two decades or more. Someone younger, someone slim and upright may yet enjoy them. Farewell, dear friends both. I shall remember you.
Francis, Oxford, 16 august 20112
Francis, Oxford, 16 august 20112
Monday 15 August 2011
Saturday 13 August 2011
Wednesday 10 August 2011
Tuesday 9 August 2011
Sunday 7 August 2011
Friday 5 August 2011
Thursday 4 August 2011
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