Advert Break

We interrupt this blog's coma for an advert break.

If it's jewellery you're after, you should go to LuShae Jewelry. They even have earrings.

Have I been bribed to write this? Hell, yes. Jewellery essentially turns me into Gollum. I'm not going to turn it down. Actually, I was going to turn it down initially, as I was convinced that this freebie must be a scam and somebody would be bound to use my address for identity theft or something. But my husband said it was safe and he knows about The World.

So I got this. It's medievally. I like it.

And I have to say: bizarre as I found being asked to advertise jewellery on my dead blog, I was impressed with the pendant when it came. It's a decent size. It sparkles. It came in a good quality box with a good, substantial chain. I hate it when pendants come with chains that are so fragile I'm frightened to wear them. Or with no chain.

So, yes, I do recommend this site. Some of the jewellery looks a bit tacky on the website but the quality is very good in real life, and I love the design of my pendant. The site provides plenty of information on each item, too, which is important.

This was my review :o)

Goodbye My Lover, Goodbye My Friend

Despite appearances to the contrary, I am still blogging enthusiastically, if sporadically and in various places. But I think 'The Library Princess' has run its course. Much of what used to go here now goes at 'Candyfloss and Medicine.' I shall copy everything over to my hard disk, and leave the blog up as a sort of monument, but there won't be any new posts.

Thanks to everyone who has commented over the years. Please transfer your bookmarks to 'Candyfloss and Medicine.'

The End.

Still Alive (just)

My header's gone. That's... interesting. Will have to chase that one up.

I know, I know, it's been a long time. Busyness and laziness are a deadly combination. I've set myself a target for a blog post (in any blog) per week, and I think that's do-able. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I've finally said goodbye to LJ entirely - Candyfloss and Medicine is now joining its friends on Blogger. Here I am.

Thinky-type posts will resume... sometime.

Memes go around like wake-up calls

My uncle once: busted his leg in drunken skipping.

Never in my life: have I had unprotected sex. I don't know how people can take that risk.

When I was five: I had an invisible friend called Bella.

High School was: not something I experienced - one of the many reasons I thank God I wasn't born in America.

I will never forget: crouching behind a door in the darkness, listening to John McCusker and Kate Rusby warming up on the fiddle.

Once I met: Matt Le Tis. Whoo.

There's this girl I know: who's afraid of cherries.

Once, at a bar: in Majorca, a guy just came up and asked me if I'd be his girlfriend. A complete stranger. And I was only twelve.

By noon: I'm not always up!

Last night: I ate Indian food.

If only I had: muscal talent.

Next time I go to church: I will try really hard not to be bored or to compare it with the vitality of church in Africa.

What worries me most: *shrugs*

When I turn my head to the right: I hope that it isn't in fact the left.

You know I'm lying when: I just can't hide it in Cheat.

What I miss about the 80s is: my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles jeans.

If I were a character in Shakespeare: please don't let me be Hamlet. Better Malvolio than Hamlet.

By this time next year: I will probably be planning my wedding.

A better name for me would be: Doris the New Forest florist.

I have a hard time understanding: geometry.

If I ever go back to school: I'll have to be a teacher as I'm quite old.

You'll know I like you if: I mock you.

If I ever won an award the first person that I would thank is: my parents.

Take my advice: under no circumstances.

My ideal breakfast is: Coco Pops and a monkey cabaret.

A song I love but do not have: "Let him go, let him tarry..." from the war film The Way to the Stars.

If you visit my hometown: you'll regret it. Though the shopping's not bad.

Why won't people simply: make me Queen of the World?

If you ever spend the night at my house you probably won't get any sleep because: I'll be up all night fidgeting.

I'd stop my wedding for: House, M.D.

The world could do without: mushrooms.

I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: lick the penis of a cockroach.

My favorite blonde is: probably actually light brown. Most blondes seem to be.

Paper Clips are: fun to straighten out.

If I do anything well, it's: talk crap.

I can't help but stand up for: the National Anthem. Jokes.

I cry over: films that aren't even remotely sad.

My advice to my children is: when you're born, come out head first. Saves a whole lot of trouble.

Victorian Governesses

Celia's latest acquisition is a fully-functioning 1890's governess cart. She naturally intends to use it. Her pony, Dusty, is great with carts, actually. I'm travelling up to Maidenhead in a couple of weeks - we're going to plot some Medieval field maps - so I'll be sure to get a photo of the cart then.

Take a look at this painting by Redgrave:

Says a lot, doesn't it? Painted by a man, of course, but still.

This is by Rebecca Solomon:

It must have been a funny position: above the servants but below the family. Always with the family yet entirely excluded. Aways there and yet invisible. All the labour of a tutor's work without the respect.

Jane Eyre, of course, is about a governess, but, although it's wonderful and I wouldn't change a thing, it isn't the most realistic novel I've ever read. I got a far better insight from Anne Bronte's much-underrated Agnes Grey.

Victorian Ballerinas

A little picspam:

Credit to rockabillyvixen at Dark Victoria for the images.

And a few observations:

It seems to me that, actual blatant pornography aside, these images are pretty racy by Victorian standards. I've gathered a few photos for a future post which are actually supposed to be erotic, and they're surprisingly similar to these. Of course, the sexualisation of female singers/dancers/actresses is nothing new and is still going on merrily today, along with the sexualisation of just about everything else. But we have, thankfully, lost the idea of women on stage being somehow disreputable and the link with prostitution. Actually, I don't think we have lost it: I think it just slid, along with so much else, into the collective subconscious.

Another thing that struck me was how astonishingly healthy these girls look, in comparison with modern ballerinas. The third one perhaps excepted, these women display the female form in all its curvacous glory. They wouldn't last five minutes in modern ballet.

Natalia Sologub in the title role of Alexei Ratmansky’s Cinderella

I rest my case. I mean, look at her arms. Ech.

So why the change in the ballerina's physique? Is ballet more demanding? If so, why does that mean that ballerinas have to be skeletal as opposed to just having more muscle? Are the male ballet dancers not strong enough to lift a normal-sized woman? Did the Victorians have more respect for the female form? Apparently not, when you look at what some corsets did to people. And yet, isn't that just appreciation for curves with an additional dose of insanity?

I should probably do research. I'm really just thinking on my feet - or my fingers, as the case may be. Check back as research happens.

Rantage

I'm in the mood for a rant. About homosexuality, or, more accurately, homophobia. Note I used the word 'rant,' not 'debate.' I tend not to express my opinions on this topic in Christian circles too often, because it rapidly spirals into debate. Debate is good, but it's really something I have to be in the mood for. But some things do get on my nerves. It gets on my nerves that people assume because I'm a Christian, I must be homophobic. I understand why they assume that, but it's annoying nonetheless.

When I was in Mozambique, I spent a lot of time with various American missionaries, some of whom really put the 'fun' in 'fundamentalism.' The one who really stands out in my memory is Gary. Gary and I, despite our differences, got on like a house on fire. This is possibly because I tended to do more questioning and listening than talking, but still. Fundamentalists are not bad people, any more than homosexuals or anybody else. Just because I disagree, sometimes quite vehemently, doesn't make anybody evil. Gary was wonderful, in fact. I'd be washing my hands, listening to him sing 'Heart of Worship' as he peed. He would explain to me, so earnestly, all about how the world was 6000 years old and carbon dating was a lie. He thought my accent was some kind of revolution in speech. He and his wife introduced me to the wonders of cinnamon toast. But his opinions did make me sometimes want to weep.

George Bush, he would say, was the greatest Christian president America has ever had. Okay, okay, he would concede, as I related the story of George Bush and "the Israeli and Polystyrene people," he wasn't the greatest public speaker, but he had done things that nobody really knew about. Like what? Well, he would say, "you're probably not going to believe this, but there are some people in America who think that queers should have rights."

At this point I started to praise cinnamon toast very loudly.

I don't know whether homosexuality is right or wrong. I haven't given it tremendous amounts of thought, because I don't really care. I figure that it's my job to love people rather than to judge them. What other people do is between them and God, as far as I'm concerned. What consenting adults do in the privacy of their own homes is so spectacularly none of my business. And if it is wrong, who am I to point the finger? Who am I to think less of people? I have been known to nick the odd bit of fudge out of the Pick 'n' Mix; that's wrong. Sometimes I speak in a way that's not respectful and honouring of other people. Sometimes I even do that to make myself look witty. I've got enough to worry about with my own behaviour, without overseeing other people's.

Rant over, I think. I feel better now.