Separated as I am from my library of women’s voices and essays, it has been an interesting visit. The scaffolding that had clamped Westport House is gone . It looked like a huge hangar or insect from across at Roman Island. The weather is awful with not one hope of even climbing the lower section of the Reek, but it’s nice to have black dark nights and to awaken at first light, it beats the clatter of the city.
The Rare and Interesting Bookshop have extended their range and had some good books, including the few small ones I bought, one being an uncorrected proof of Julian by Gore Vidal., It’s a novel about Julian the apostate, which I have not gotten my teeth into yet. He also had a copy of Mosada by Yeats, whose waxen doppleganger inhabits the Westport House Library section during the Tourist season .
I am reading some complex stuff in Metaphysics and wondering if its possible to get out and walk without a complete soaking ?
The ducks have taken to sitting in small lakes within flooded fields. We shall be missing the Education Protests in Dublin tonight, which is unfortunate. I am pretty sure that there will be many more, given the seriousness of the issue of providing education to our kids: who deserve the best. Meanwhile learning to live without telly and surrounded by excellent books and music seems to be good for one of them at least. Back to the Saturday Woman Poet at the weekend. I have discovered up here a small volume of poems written in 1945 (and self-published) which I hope to transcribe and put on the site. Interestingly the publisher’s address is given along with these words :Duration Address