Letter to Rebecca #9
Puddlegate, peppermint tea and persiflage
Dear Rebecca
Thank you for your recent letter. Before saying anything else, I must apologise to you and all the people reading this, for the fact that it is a week late. I’m afraid the time just ran away with me last week, and rather than try to write a letter in a hurry I thought it better to leave it until I had more time.
Puddlegate
To bring new readers up-to-date, here is what Puddlegate (an excellent term created by Rebecca) is all about:
My local council improved the drainage along a particular road.
One result of this improvement was a the appearance of a large puddle that seems to grow larger by the day.
Here is the most recent photo I took of it:
A commuter waiting for a bus. Photo by Janis Karkossa on Unsplash
(Disclaimer: not everything in this letter is 100% true.)
Regarding your comment about my comment of “What more can I say”, in some situations a picture says a lot more than words, or words alone. That's my opinion anyway.
I liked your paintings – very nice. Very abstract, although I prefer Lichtenstein myself.
Maps
I think I learnt the same mnemonic as you at school for news, although I liked your drawing of it better. What do you think a good crossword clue for news might be? How about:
Information from all over the place? (4)
As you know, in my most recent Start the Week, I included a hand-drawn map that, as I think you appreciated via a comment, benefitted from not having a load of extraneous detail. I reproduce the map here for those people who do not read my Substack (why not? Please see me at the end — oh, sorry, old habits die hard):
I am unable to claim credit for complete originality here, because I had the idea from reading Writers’ Journeys (review coming soon). That book includes maps, but some are notable for their lack of detail. For example, here is the map showing the train journey on which JK had the idea for Harry Potter:
Now, I can see the value of a map that omits all strictly irrelevant detail, but my personal view is that this goes rather too far.
Still, even this isn’t as bad as the map I saw in a hospital a few years ago. It consisted of various coloured blocks and a big arrow declaring “You are here”, without any indication of where “here” actually was.
Which reminds me: when I was about 4 years old I saw a sign in a station stating “You are here” and I thought, “I know I am”.
On a more serious note, a few years ago I enjoyed drawing a map of my day in London, not using GPS. It made the basis of a very interesting article I thought (perhaps I’ll update it and reproduce it on Substack one day):
As you can see, I did this in one of the Moleskine notebooks which accompany me everywhere. Jillian Hess of Noted would be proud of me I think.
By the way, I have incontrovertible evidence that Jillian has a hideaway in London:
The nice thing about that map is that it contains lots of details, such as what I was doing on which part of the journey, and which train lines I used. Also, the stations are, broadly speaking, in the same positions as they are on the London tube map.
All of which brings me onto…
Walking in London
Your recollection of escapades using public transport to travel no distance at all made me laugh. The thing is, London is actually very small, if you ignore the vast sprawlingness of Greater London. You only have to think of Sam Pepys diary, in which he recounts walking everywhere. Did you know, Rebecca, that he’s still writing his diary? That’s impressive, isn’t it? I mean, he must be getting on a bit now.
Tea
The vessel definitely makes a difference: plastic cups are horrible, cardboard not much better. I think having decent tea makes a difference too — and not tea bags. I hate it when cafes serve tea with milk in the tea and a tea bag in it as well. The tea always tastes horrible when made like that.
Occasionally I like fruit teas. They make me feel like I’m imbibing something mildly healthy and karmically good. The late Vincent Snell, who was the national leader of the Transcendental Meditation organisation in the UK, was really down to earth: a burger and chips man, and who I think even smoked. Having no time for those rather intense people who are mindful of everything they eat and do (and who never tire of telling the rest of us), he apparently once said that the definition of a fanatic is someone who drinks peppermint tea — and expects everyone else to.
Growing
Elaine has put potatoes in egg boxes (see photo). I’m hoping they’ll grow into fries.
(Note the packet of Dreamies that our feline slave-drivers forced us to buy.)
Which reminds me of a great expression by Bessie Smith and other blues women:
If you don’t like my potatoes, why did you dig so deep?
One can use it as all-purpose riposte to literary criticism. I tend to alternate between that and Oscar Wilde’s:
Who am I, Sir, to tamper with a masterpiece?
I don’t know anything about eggshells and compost, but it sounds like a solution to neighbourhood cat defecation.
Reading
What are you reading?
I’m currently reading:
Science fiction stories for a course I’m on.
The Buddha of Suburbia for another course. I’ve enjoyed the half a dozen pages I’ve read so far.
In the Land of the Cyclops, by Knausgaard, who was recommended to me by Jody J Sperling
A book of Irish short stories, bought for me by Elaine.
And How to Do Things With Forms, a book about the Oulipo.
I tried reading a Dan Brown novel, but became a bit bored. Maybe I’ll try again.
Writing
I’ve been pushing the boat out recently. As well as a movie review, I’ve been trying out different Oulipo exercises and mentally planning articles on cancel culture and jazz.
It’s very nice to see you branching out too, Rebecca, what with your Arts and Treasures posts, a book review and different interpretations of what getting lost can mean. Clever clogs. 😠
Well, that’s it from me. Apologies once again for lateness.
Looking forward to your reply, which readers won’t miss if they subscribe to yours:
All the best,
Terry
I delight in your reference to Bessie Smith's "If you don't like potatoes, why did you dig so deep." I hadn't heard that one before. She is also known for using a line written by Irving Berlin, "'If you don't want my peaches, you'd better stop shaking my tree' . I think a lot of people today should use that line. You know, as a fair warning. ha ha ha
Another delightful installment of "The Chronicles of Terry and Rebecca" (like Narnia, only funnier)! Today I learned that "Dreamies" are cat treats, London is walkable, 4-year-old Terry was very astute, and that I'm some sort of heathen because I drink peppermint tea made from a bag (but in the right vessel, thank goodness!). Never a dull moment in these parts! Off to look up "The Buddha of Suburbia." The name piqued my curiosity! :)