I FELL OUT OF BED AT LEAST TWICE LAST NIGHT in a night of constant nightmares. Or, rather, one ongoing dream that was bad, bad, bad. Involving me, falsely accused of something (what? I can never remember what I was accused
of afterwards.) That is my recurring dream. That and dreams about buildings that extend on and on and on with newer and more obscure rooms... Ayway, last night's "mare" encompassed all manner of strange repercussions involving a television screen. Were my supposed "crimes" flashing up on the screen? I remember being treated by everyone like I'd done something desperately wrong and been found out. I fell out of bed twice during the night - a consequence of dreaming whilst most probably "awake" to the outside world (of course I wasn't awake. I was sound asleep. But here this:) (People have very often tried talking to me in this kind of state. I remember once waking to a rant of Nutnut's: "I know you can hear me because your eyes are open!" Well I could, because that's what I woke up to hear her say! But how long I'd been lying there, eyes open blank and staring as she chatted on and on God only knows ... Even as a baby I had a strange proclivity for being able to sleep in the most "wakeful" of attitudes. My easily-panicked mother even took me to the doctor's over this. (Imagine what my earliest medical notes must say! And add that to the present ones. I was doomed from the outset!!) When Robert Palmer sang, "the lights are on; but you're not home" - in Addicted to Love, he might as well have been talking about me!!
I DON'T THINK THE DREAM had anything to do with the book I'd been reading. An
Enid Blyton Famous Five (that's 2 links, not 1) number "
Five on Kirrin Island - Again". O! I hadn't perused Enid Blyton for many years. Oddly, reading her novel through as an adult I couldn't help thinking "what good kids these are" and "how
jolly posh they are," (especially).
("Oh do let's row the boat out to Kirrin Island, Julian!" exclaimed Ann. (Old Enid adored her exclamation marks!) And just like me, she faithfully records every scrap of food and drop of ginger beer consumed throughout the long, hot days of the summer "hols"...)
That stew was indeed lovely.
Angeldust asked me whether I just ate the meat! Good question. No, the reason I was so enamoured by my pie steak (apart from the fact it was such a very good cut and so very tender) was that I never "grew up" cooking meat at all in my early 20s. I was semi-vegetarian. For years I cooked with vegetables only; eating meat if someone else preapared it for me or if it came in a ready-meal or pie of some sort. It wasn't till I lived with Nutnut that "proper cooking" (after all, I did always
eat meat) was ever something I
properly learned ...
Last night I went on a fantasia of a blog-hop; keyed randomly that "next blog" button at the top bar. Up popped something to do with Lavendar. From Lavender's comments I hopped from one blog to the other always saying hello (you have to leave a trail, that's half the fun of it!) The game stops when you eventually come across somebody's name or face that you recognize; which happened last night about eight blogs in:
Annelisa who I know from
Dan's famous 325-comments blog. (You think I'm exaggerating? Click on his name and take a look!) Aparently I'd left little messages saying "hello; don't I know you from somewhere?" about four or five times previously. So I do apologize, Annelisa. I have a terrible memory!
An Aussie lady called
Merle got back to me this morning after I'd remarked to her that half my family's from Sydney and yet strangely I don't get many Aussie visitors to my blog at all. Which always kind of - well, not wrankles me but it strikes me as slightly odd. Because in the English-speaking world there are nearly as many Aussies as Canadians and yet I know quite a few people in Canada. The only Aussie (apart from Merle) I can think of would be
Olive who is 107 years old, has a helper called Mike who keys in all her memories for her ... into what she insists is called a "blob"!! Anyway, Merle invited me to look down her Aussie blogroll, which I will do this evening. It would be interesting to meet some bloggers from Down Under.
The stew is slowly reheating again in readiness for more intellectual dumplings going in. And last night's lot certainly were. When I opened the lid the whole lot of them greeted me in a mosaic of
Mon-Khmer languages!!
Righty-ho then, I'll be off
Gleds ...
I'd be most interested to hear of people's Enid Blyton opinions, childhood memories and so on. Were the "Five" ever "famous" the world over? Or any of her other works ... e.g.
Malory Towers, Noddy, The Secret of Spiggy Holes... and so on ... (e.g. was she known in the United States and Canada?) I love Enid Blyton because she harks back to a more innocent era. One of her favourite words was
queer. But she wasn't inferring anything about anyone's sexuality!! When I was a child many children's libraries claimed to have "banned" her books (which only inflated sales as parents obviously had to go out and buy 'em!) Enid Blyton was often labelled (though the term wasn't actually used back in the day) politically incorrect. Well I don't know what to say to that. What? Because all the children are white and upper-middle class? Are we meant to feel somehow guilty for
still enjoying the stories. Personally,
I think not.
I believe that her books have been re-edited for the modern age but that spoils half the fun ... Memories? Views, anyone? Please...
I'm most fascinated to know how her most English of books have been viewed and enjoyed (or otherwise!!) by the
rest of the world ...
***
DID YOU KNOW that microwaving water and feeding it to plants can
KILL THEM STONE DEAD?
CLICK HERE if you don't believe me ...
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AND IF YOU'RE WONDERING WHAT I'm rambling on about
Enid Blyton?
Famuos Five? Etc etc. (There was also, incidentally a
Secret Seven but compared to the Famous Five they were crap.) Click on my
Secret of Spiggy Holes link. This is an early novel and one of her best. The review manages to encompass at least
some of the atmosphere of Enid's dusty old smugglers' caves, secret passageways, cooks and butlers and mysterious foreign princeling-filled novels ...
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