New Life

I'm afraid the butterfly is not alive now. Unfortunately before it was released into the outside world. But then it couldn't fly so we don't know what would have happened to it out there...

But look what has appeared on the tree next to the butterfly's place! A new shoot! So life is always appearing, even when you think it is disappearing.

Feeding Nicely

The butterfly is still going well. Here it is feeding nicely.

As mentioned before, I give it a solution of honey and sugar in water, on a tissue. It's not a flower but the butterfly seems to like it!

The butterfly is still considering being released into the wild but we were waiting until the weather got warmer. Yesterday there was a lot of snow, so I'm quite glad we're still waiting. Both quite glad, I would think!

Escape from Stalag Howard

The butterfly has escaped!

It has become quite strong (and a bit fat) by eating my fine cuisine de papillon and has started to search for...something!

It knows to go towards the light and has already got as far as the window!

It might still be a bit cold for releasing it to the outside, but it seems to be getting warmer. This butterfly mostly walks (with a bit of fluttering) but it has still got plenty of chance to succeed.

The carpet wasn't very tasty so I am feeding it again. But it has been out of its house for over 24 hours now!

You want to protect things from danger but you shouldn't protect them from development - even if it is more dangerous. Anyway, soon, soon it can go for its biggest adventure!

Twins and Showers

Ah, April has returned! I was worried about the new climate and the lack of a cool spring to help the water supply, but the weather has just got a bit cooler, and it even rained a little bit. A light sprinkling of rain is, of course, known as AN APRIL SHOWER. Would there be much point having April without the showers? Well, it wouldn't be the same April, anyway.

Also, I have recently accompanied a set of twins in a piece by Bruch (Concerto for clarinet and viola, or violin and viola, Op. 88). What is good about this is that, when rehearsing with normal people, they say "can we go from three before Figure 5?"..."Er, five, five, yes I've got it. OK". With twins, however the conversation goes more like "How about...your bit..." ..."OK" and psychic communication has taken the place of not knowing where we are. I, of course, not being one of a set of three twins, have to know where we are going from! Somehow.

I was imagining what a good idea it would be to have an ensemble made up of twins. How well they would all play together! But it was pointed out to me that it might be a bit scary. Oh well. What about triplets, is that a better idea?

Iceland 1973

What is this a picture of?

It is people in the town of Vestmannaeyjar, Iceland, in 1973.

They are doing something. What?

They are spraying water to stop their town being destroyed by a volcanic eruption!

The eruption started at 1.55 a.m. on Tuesday 23rd January. Luckily the fishing fleet was in harbour because of bad weather so all 5000 people could be evacuated from the town. I was very pleased with them all. Everybody was praised for their calmness, which is what you need in an emergency.

The volcano calmed down about 5 months later. Now the population is back to 5000.

The picture was taken by Svienn Eirikksen, fire marshal of Vestmannaeyjar.

Stag

Look! They have deer in London!

I found this one in Richmond Park. It takes one hour to get there from door to door.

I hadn't seen deer before. There are also a lot of parakeets flying around. I don't know how they got there, but they seem to like it.

OK my deers?

Surf Rescue

Johann Weißmüller was born in Freidorf which at the time was in Austria-Hungary but is now near Timişoara in Romania. Very soon he moved with his family to America. He was a good swimmer and trained hard while he worked as a bell hop at the Plaza Hotel in Chicago. It all worked out very well when he won his first Olympic swimming title in 1924 (Paris). In all, throughout his career he won five Olympic Gold medals and one Bronze, and broke sixty-seven world records. He never lost a race.

And then he became Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle.

Johnny Weissmuller was the Tarzan I remember from the films. They were black and white, and had lots of interesting things happening. I remember the Elephants' Graveyard, trains of native bearers carrying the white man's luggage, Cheeta the chimpanzee, giant spiders and their deadly webs, and the strange fauna of the jungle. There was always a dinosaur somewhere in the jungle for some reason. It was a Dimetrodon, I seem to remember. And don't forget that Tarzan could speak to the animals too. "Ungawa!" meant something. "Simba!" meant something too. It is Swahili for Lion and he said it to lions so that makes sense.

Let's go back in time and find out something else.

When Johnny won his first Olympic medal, he beat someone. That person was called Duke Paoa Kahinu Mokoe Hulikohola Kahanamoku and he came from Hawaii. When you hear the phrase "The Big Kahuna", you now know that it originally referred to him.

Duke (named after Prince Alfred, the Duke of Edinburgh) had set the world record that Johnny broke in 1922 (that was before they met at the Olympics). He won many medals himself, but is more famous as the inventor of modern surfing. He experimented with many improvements and alterations to surfboard design but his best-remembered board was the one he called his "papa nui". It was 16 feet long and weighed 114 pounds (4.8m, 52 kg). That was the board he was using on the day the big waves came, one of which would take him from surf zone to surf zone in the longest ride of his life. Let's hear him tell about it now.

But the day I caught 'The Big One' was a day when I was not thinking in terms of awing any tourists or kamaainas (old-timers) on Waikiki Beach. It was simply an early morning when mammoth ground swells were rolling in sporadically from the horizon, and I saw that no one was paddling out to try them. Frankly, they were the largest I'd ever seen. The yell of 'The surf is up!' was the understatement of the century.

In fact, it was that rare morning when the word was out that the big 'Bluebirds' were rolling in; this is the name for gigantic waves that sweep in from the horizon on extra-ordinary occasions. Sometimes years elapse with no evidence of them. They are spawned far out at sea and are the result of cataclysms of nature -- either great atmospheric disturbances or subterranean agitation like underwater earthquakes and volcanic eruptions.

The danger lay in the proneout or wipeout. Studying the waves made me wonder if any man's body could withstand the unbelievable force of a thirty- to fifty-foot wall of water when it crashes. And, too, could even a top swimmer like myself manage to battle the currents and explosive water that would necessarily accompany the aftermath of such a wave? Well, the answer seemed to be simply -- don't get wiped out!

From the shore you could see those high glassy ridges building up in the outer Diamond Head region. The Bluebirds were swarming across the bay in a solid line as far northwest as Honolulu Harbor. They were tall, steep and fast. The closer-in ones crumbled and showed their teeth with a fury that I had never seen before. I wondered if I could even push through the acres of white water to get to the outer area where the buildups were taking place.

...Bushed from the long fight to get seaward, I sat my board and watched the long humps of water peaking into ridges that marched like animated foothills. I let a slew of them lift and drop me with their silent, threatening glide. I could hardly believe that such perpendicular walls of water could be built up like that. The troughs between the swells had the depth of elevator shafts, and I wondered again what it would be like to be buried under tons of water when it curled and detonated. There was something eerie about watching the shimmering backs of the ridges as they passed me and rolled on toward Waikiki.

I let a lot of them careen by, wondering in my own heart if I was passing them up because of their unholy height, or whether I was really waiting for the big, right one. A man begins to doubt himself at a time like that. Then I was suddenly wheeling and turning to catch the towering blue ridge bearing toward me. I was prone and stroking hard at the water with my hands.

Strangely, it was more as though the wave had selected me, rather than I had chosen it. It seemed like a very personal and special wave -- the kind I had seen in my mind's eye during a night of tangled dreaming. There was no backing out on this one; the two of us had something to settle between us. The rioting breakers between me and shore no longer bugged me. There was just this one ridge and myself -- no more. Could I master it? I doubted it, but I was willing to die in the attempt to harness it.

Instinctively I got to my feet when the pitch, slant and speed seemed right. Left foot forward, knees slightly bent, I rode the board down the precipitous slope like a man tobogganing down a glacier. Sliding left along the watery monster's face, I didn't know I was at the beginning of a ride that would become a celebrated and memoried thing. All I knew was that I had come to grips with the tallest, bulkiest, fastest wave I had ever seen. I realized, too, more than ever, that to be trapped under its curling bulk would be the same as letting a factory cave in upon you.

This lethal avalanche of water swept shoreward swiftly and spookily. The board began hissing from the traction as the wave leaned forward with greater and more incredible speed and power. I shifted my weight, cut left at more of an angle and shot into the big Castle Surf which was building and adding to the wave I was on. Spray was spuming up wildly from my rails, and I had never before seen it spout up like that. I rode it for city-long blocks, the wind almost sucking the breath out of me. Diamond Head itself seemed to have come alive and was leaping in at me from the right.

Then I was slamming into Elk's Club Surf, still sliding left, and still fighting for balance, for position, for everything and anything that would keep me upright. The drumming of the water under the board had become a madman's tattoo. Elk's Surf rioted me along, high and steep, until I skidded and slanted through into Public Baths Surf. By then it amounted to three surfs combined into one; big, rumbling and exploding. I was not sure I could make it on this ever-steepening ridge. A curl broke to my right and almost engulfed me, so I swung even farther left, shuffled back a little on the board to keep from pearling (nose-diving).

Left it was; left and more left, with the board veeing a jet of water on both sides and making a snarl that told of speed and stress and thrust. The wind was tugging my hair with frantic hands. Then suddenly it looked as if I might, with more luck, make it into the back of Queen's Surf! The build-up had developed into something approximating what I had heard of tidal waves, and I wondered if it would ever flatten out at all. White water was pounding to my right, so I angled farther from it to avoid its wiping me out and burying me in the sudsy depths.

Borrowing on the Cunha Surf for all it was worth -- and it was worth several hundred yards -- I managed to manipulate the board into the now towering Queen's Surf. One mistake -- just one small one -- could well spill me into the maelstrom to my right. I teetered for some panic-ridden seconds, caught control again, and made it down on that last forward rush, sliding and bouncing through lunatic water. The breaker gave me all the tossing of a bucking bronco. Still luckily erect, I could see the people standing there on the beach, their hands shading their eyes against the sun, and watching me complete this crazy, unbelievable one-and-three-quarter-mile ride.

I made it into the shallows in one last surging flood. A little dazedly I wound up in hip-deep water, where I stepped off and pushed my board shoreward through the bubbly surf. That improbable ride gave me the sense of being an unlickable guy for the moment. I hoisted my board to my hip, locked both arms around it and lugged it up the beach.

Without looking at the people clustered around, I walked on, hearing them murmur fine, exciting things which I wanted to remember in days to come. I told myself this was the ride to end all rides. I grinned my thanks to those who stepped close and slapped me on the shoulders, and I smiled to those who told me this was the greatest. I trudged on and on, knowing this would be a shining memory for me that I could take out in years to come, and relive it in all its full glory. This had been it.

I never caught another wave anything like that one. And now with the birthdays piled up on my back, I know I never shall. But they cannot take that memory away from me. It is a golden one that I treasure, and I'm grateful that God gave it to me.

Duke appeared in 13 films in various parts, and in 1925 he used his surfboard to rescue eight men from a capsized fishing boat in heavy weather in Newport Beach, California.

It's nice to know that exciting things happen sometimes. Also that fun can be useful. Playing is not just a waste of time!

Chimp Champs Chomp Chumps?

Bonobos are interesting. They are a type of Chimpanzee - the type that has the most DNA in common with humans (98% is the quoted figure).

They know who they are if they see themselves in a mirror. That is called self-awareness, and we have it, though we don't make much use of it on the whole.

There is (or was) some debate about classification. Are Bonobos so close to us that they should move from Pan paniscus to Homo paniscus, Homo sylvestris, or Homo arboreus - or the humans should re-classify from Homo sapiens to Pan sapiens?

Anyway, the bonobos are not aggressive like the other chimpanzees. Unlike them, bonobos don't do murders or conduct wars - they hardly even eat meat! I always wondered how we evolved - was it through genocide? Did we have to be aggressive to "win"? Or perhaps it was our technology that got us going (the technology, the gift, of self-awareness -and thought and planning)

I wonder if humans really are close to the bonobo. Are we peaceful or aggressive? I know we can be both, and it would be a typical kind of response to bemoan the level and quality of human behaviour as it echoes that of the common chimp. But, well, all those wars that humans have, they are in the newspapers and so on, aren't they? What about you though? Do you do wars? Only sometimes, that's right. Well then. When you are not fighting, you might be more like the bonobo. Maybe humans are more interesting than we thought?

Sumatran Rhinoceros

The Sumatran Rhinoceros is the smallest and hairiest rhinoceros in the world.

It is very rare now.

hot sun?

Right, if it is really sunny tomorrow then you won't be hearing much from me!

The sunshine is a good place for doing all sorts of things, including memorising piano music.

But there will be 0% internet access for me, and 0% blog communication for some hours!

What could be more important than the sun? Everything that is here is here because of it, isn't it? Well, I'm not a physicist but it is certainly rather essential.

To me!

Wikipedia...and Durians

Wikipedia is an online encyclopaedia (/encyclopedia) that anyone can edit. It is quite useful, because there are now so many facts available there. Imagine, a book that's always growing! It is not perfect, of course, but I think the principles are pretty sound. I am in favour of it - any complaints that could be made about it are a bit pointless because it is the best we have.

I sometimes correct ridiculous spelling mistakes and things, as I am reading. I haven't written anything longer than one paragraph, since I am not really an expert on anything! Today I updated my User Page. You can read there a lengthy diatribe about Wikipedia! Hooray!

I wanted to write about durians today, but there is not time. For now, here is a relevant picture instead!


Other facts of the day: I have realised that I don't really like chocolate. Also wheat makes me sleepy, on the whole. So I will be watching out for those!

Enormous and Hideous

I needed to get to the Royal College of Music in Kensington. Since it was so sunny I walked through Hyde Park to get there.

Now, I know that the Royal College of Music is in front of (or behind) the Royal Albert Hall. And I sort of knew that there was something called the Albert Memorial behind (or in front of) that. I thought I would probably find it alright. It's true, I did.

As I approached the A.M., I could see that I would be there quite soon. Ten minutes later, I still hadn't got any closer despite continuous ambulatory motion of the legs (walking). Was it a medium-sized monument in the middle distance, or was it a large monument further away? Now I can tell you: it is an enormous monument a bit further away than I thought!

The other thing that it is (as you may have guessed from the title today) is hideous. Hid-e-ous. It seemed to me that it was not very tasteful, at least. This was partly because it was too big (it seems that when humans get pleased with themselves they build big things to show they rule the earth!) but mostly because it was black and gold. Well, I don't much like black-coloured things anymore because they look gloomy, and the gold just seemed wrong too. But you see the whole of the Victorian era was about being dark and gloomy. I am thankful that England is recovering a little now.

The Albert Memorial was commissioned by Queen Victoria (1819-1901, reigned 1837-1901) in memory of her husband Prince Albert.

I like the trees better. Some of them are big, too...

My Dream Has Come True

All week I have been reading the weather forecast. In the temperature column I was watching the number "24" (Centigrade)...to see if it would, as usual, turn into "4" when the day arrived (or "-4"!).

Before I went to sleep last night, I had only one wish. It was a simple wish. Please let it be sunny tomorrow - was my wish. Yes, readers, that was the only thing I wanted in my whole life, as of last night! Maybe it is a sign that I have become simple-minded. Shouldn't I have been wishing for a million pounds? A fast car? A swimming pool?

So - my dream came true! And, even better than that, I have just checked the weather page and it says it is TWENTY-FIVE DEGREES! So I got at least one degree more than I was offered!

So now everything has come true, what do I ask for from life? What do you give the man who has everytthing? I don't know, I'm quite happy!

Right, now I'm going back outside. See you out there!

English Weather

Wild Flowers

Don't say I never send you flowers!

Inspiring

Over the years, lots of people have stolen ideas from me! I don't mind; it is probably not really stealing, exactly, anyway.

I once had a special idea in a piece. It was only about another week before someone else had suddenly had the same idea. Then they later passed on this interest to a friend and soon there was a whole 'school' based on my idea!

I don't regard it as my idea, though. I don't own ideas. Even if I am the first to do something, I don't feel like I create anything. It just comes to me. I have to find it, I am the fisherman. I have to focus it. But that is just my brain working. But the brain is quite a limited wrinkly little organ without the magic special ingredient called...inspiration!

Inspiration is often spoken of, rather lightly or jokingly I feel. An estate agent told me I would appreciate living near the park because it would inspire me to create music. I found that a little bit far-fetched, since it came from an estate agent - someone whose main job is to take my money as quickly as he can, not to advise me on matters of the soul.

But it seems he was right after all. Today I went in the park to find out what kind of piano piece I am writing (for Michael Finnissy's sixtieth birthday) and it was very good to be somewhere more natural to do it. I'm sure there is a special reason for that. Anyway, it helped me to get my idea.

There have been other ideas before. Some of those, people "borrowed"! Sometimes it was a theft, sometimes an influence, sometimes a tribute. Really it is fine.

I suppose I should not be too harsh about this. I was inspired by certain things once - or shall we say, I admired them, and then copied them a little bit for a while, until one day I didn't need to copy anything any more. Maybe it is the same thing at work when I find something a little...familiar...about someone else's work. I suppose that is true. Why they picked me I do not know!

The thing is, if somebody genuinely stole something I came up with, it would be a little bit annoying, but it would not be a hopeless situation. Because I can get another idea. I know where to find inspiration - though I could still forget how, I suppose - and I can go there to find something else useful. But it might seem easier for someone to just borrow what is already existing. It probably is! But it shows a lack of confidence in themselves. Also it is a little bit mean or ungenerous. They are trying to get the maximum result for the minimum effort. If they believed in themselves more, they could contribute a lot! But I suppose they think they have to "fight their own corner", form their own style, make their own money, etc etc.

Well, I could say to them - hey! It's not your money, ideas, style, etc. It is OURS! We should be sharing it! If we like your idea though, we will be nice to you! So you don't have to worry that there will be no reward!

The word "inspiration" comes from Latin. It means to breathe in. I'm not sure why; I didn't invent the word. But it could be worth finding out what it means.

I guess some people already know there is no such thing.

But you and me, we know something different, don't we? My little friends!

RRRaaaaAAAAAAARRRRRR!!!!!!

If you have a look at Big Cat Rescue, a sanctuary for rehabilitated tigers, lions, leopards, etc, you can learn all sorts of things.

There are lots of tips for dealing with big cats (some can be applied to domestic cats). If you are expecting to have any dealings with lions or tigers...

If a tiger bites your hand, then

1) You are in a tricky situation, be careful
2) If you try to pull your hand away, the teeth will go further in

So you have to "feed him your hand". He might let go if he feels your hand going too far down his throat. I mean, he wants your hand to go down his throat, but not while it is still on your arm and is causing him discomfort.

So there's a useful piece of advice!

But what I wanted to write about was what they call "Enrichments". These are things they do at the sanctuary to try to stop the cats getting bored. They spray smells on logs, like vanilla or star anise. Then the animals get interested in this mysterious scent and rub against the logs. Or they put some meat in a cardboard tube, so the cat can "find" the food inside, as if she caught it herself. There are lots of things. They give them pumpkins too sometimes!

I think that's what we need. Enrichments.

Something to give us a bit of fun.

Can you think of anything?

Jingle Pot

I have a book called 1001 Natural Wonders You Must See Before You Die. I wish it were called 1001 Natural Wonders You Must See. Of course I will see them (if I do manage to see all 1001 of them) before I die. Or should all books change their titles now?

"OXFORD DICTIONARY OF ENGLISH - FOR PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT DEAD"

"THE DA VINCI CODE - BESTSELLER, READ BY LIVING PEOPLE THROUGHOUT THE WORLD"

"THE PICKWICK PAPERS - THE TIMELESS FAVOURITE OF THOSE MILLIONS WHOSE FINGERS WERE ABLE TO GRASP ON TO LIFE SUFFICIENTLY TO BE ABLE TO TURN ITS PAGES"

The girl at the checkout looked at me with a funny look. As if she thought I was going to die in the next month! Maybe I accidentally picked the book out of the 'Terminal Illness' section? I don't think so.

I have seen several books called "Something Something, Blah Blah Blah, ...BEFORE YOU DIE". I suppose the publisher imagines the title will lend a certain urgency to your book browsing. You must buy the book ...BEFORE YOU DIE!

We could add it to all sorts of things we want to sell. Decoding Skin - Philip Howard's Solo Piano Album of Music to Listen to Before You Die!

Back to the 1001 Natural Wonders book. I didn't count them. I believe there are 1001. They said it, that's good enough for me. And they are all very natural and wonderful, just like it says.

I don't know the meanings of foreign place-names, but some of the English names are quite funny. Things are often odd or eccentric in England - it is good, one of the main positive features of this country in my opinion.

There was one I remembered. A cave somewhere. Pothole is a word for a hole in the road, or apparently also for a cave - a very big hole in the road, I suppose. That could explain a little bit about the funny name...

JINGLE POT

Well, I liked it!