Showing posts with label The Shop - Virtual. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Shop - Virtual. Show all posts

Thursday, 3 April 2008

Wednesday, 2nd April 2008

0802
Today I was so distracted and tired from Tuesday's web-wanderings in search of Gulf understanding, that for the first time this year, I don't seem to have taken a picture of my beech tree. I can't undertand how this could have happened and it's unsettling.
I spent another day, all day, working inside at my computer, save a stroll accross to the chantier for a cup of tea with the guys; another accross the field, with the help of a Romanian sheperd's stick to support my knee, to see a friend working outside in spring sun, loading a trailer with wood. Then back to the computer.
I envy these men.
By the evening I was spent and grey, tired but unable to sleep.
For the second day I have been at home but far away; I could be writing from a hotel and memories of laptops in hotels both frighten me and reassure me as I look out accross The Valley.






AN EMAIL

Dear Ian,

Finally caught up with your book on a lovely holiday in Switzerland - a great relief to be away from Iraq literature.Many congratulations - it's a real achievement; I think you've really captured the place and the people. I thought your relationship with Norman was done with real sensitivity and care and you handled difficult passages - like Knoxey's death - with real dexterity. It was funny too - Murray's sheep dip exposure had me pissing myself.

For what it's worth, I did prefer the passages in the book where you let the story tell itself - the more gentle, descriptive passages tended to work more for me, showing me more about the people's characters than times when I could feel your own voice coming through more strongly.

As to its drama potential. In all honesty, I would say not. For the simple reason that I can't see a terrestrial channel going for this. Channel 5 has no drama to speak of and Channel 4 want much more edgy material than this. ITV are looking for big, sexy stuff - mostly urban and rather modish - or costume drama. BBC-2 only does the occasional one off (which this is clearly not) and BBC-1 would, I suspect view this as too gentle, too lyrical. They did a far more populist, soapy version about a family moving to the country a few years back - and that tends to offer them an excuse to say 'no' to a similar idea. And, to be frank, I would worry about allowing them to get their teeth into this. You've written something very special to you and they would, without doubt, bastardise it to a point where it would leave you terribly upset. But as I say, I am confident they would not bite.

It's such an achievement to have written something so personal and so true to your own heart (and so well) and I really want to congratulate you.

Love to you all

D










OTHER EMAILS


02 April 2008 15:14

Subject: X [name of a village in the Cotswold]

Hi Ian,

Enjoying the book! Well-captured.

Its doing the rounds, as you might imagine.

All the best,

Y (fellow resident)


02 April 2008 15:41

Subject: Re. X [name of a village in the Cotswold]

Hey Y,

Thanks for the email but I don't think I ever said it was X [name of a village in the Cotswold]!

Are you sure you have the right village? Where exactly do you live?

Kind regards,

Ian


02 April 2008 15:59

Subject: Re. X [name of a village in the Cotswold]

Oops! Sorry, I meant to change the title. Really.

I live in X, have done for 6-7 years (arrived just after the weedkiller incident) and I believe you might have met my wife at some point on a farm walk. Of course and equally, I may have got the wrong chap ;)

All is well here, incidentally - the usual ups and downs.

Best, Y


02 April 2008 16:01

Subject: Re. X [name of a village in the Cotswold]

P.S. Will engage brain better with keyboard next time - getting over the flu. Apologies. [Y]





































ALL PHOTOS COPYRIGHT IAN WALTHEW 2008

Wednesday, 2 April 2008

Tuesday, 1st April 2008

0755





Today I went to The Shop, by wi-fi and Live Boxes and lines: Paris, London and on to the Gulf to do some thinking and planning for a friend with a client in the U.A.E. I visted museums, offices, hotels, oil fields and immigrant labour issues, aspirations for global respect; I watched video of a place by a blue sea, building site after building site, cranes tingling in sunlight, pushed by a financial wealth easy enough to quantify, impossible to comprehend.

Here in The Valley I could only find time to go outside four times during the day: to see the dawn; to unload my circular saw lent to a friend and returned in the back of a pick-up truck; to visit the orchard for signs of snow damage, frost burn and bud; to play with my daughter on her bicyle - the first time without stabilisers.

I had seen a butterfly, the first of the year. Before I could tell her she told me she had seen one too, down at her den. An Emperor I think, by what she said. We must make sure to fill our pockets with coins, for round here the man with money in his pocket when he hears the first cuckoo of the year will have a good harvest and a full cellar during the year ahead.

As the sun went down she fell, picked herself up, and rode. Round and round in circles until the sun set over the mountains to the west.

How easy to miss, how sad that moment is gone, what chance to be here to see it.

As to the rest of the world, I didn't open the newspaper. It still turns and so do the wheels on a pink bike in the Auvernge.





















































































































ALL PHOTGRAPHS COPYRIGHT IAN WALTHEW 2008