Allow me to explain this rather personal one. My dear wife and I bought our house in 2008 (yikes, that's half a decade ago!). The previous owner was an old lady, who was "down sizing" after all of her family had moved away. She showed us around, we liked it. At the end of the visit, I asked: "Is there anything else that you think we should know about?"
It's a fair question, I hope; it rather puts the situation on the honesty of the seller. Duly, she replied, "Well, in the evenings, you can hear the German boy next door practicing his clarinet, but it is beautiful."
OK, we can cope with beautiful clarinet from German boys, we thought.
The creative interpretation of the ability of our German neighbours' son became apparent shortly after moving in. "Murdering Bach" is fair, I think. Our neighbour's son is not a gifted musician. I'd go so far as to say that I'd like him to stop; however, practice makes perfect. I am delighted to report that after five years of practice, he is now moderately (very moderately) less dreadful than when we moved in. Surely, that is an improvement.
So, the haiku! I like to read (and write) haiku as I were eating a small chocolate: in three bites, with time between each bite to experience the contents. While my haiku, undoubtedly, could never be compared to something as pleasurable as a good chocolate, I do rather like the way that this particular haiku reads if one pauses after reading each line. Heh. It makes me grin even now.
The haiga requires some explanation, because it is a personal connection: it is the smaller SCR in my college, which has a roaring fireplace in wintertime - a wider view featured in Ancient Heat, for those regular victims who might remember it.
Sitting by the fire, sucking down a reasonably decent cup of coffee, the screams and laughter of the students came through the heavy oak door which leads from the SCR to the High Table at the end of the Hall next door. It sounded much like a kindergarten, in fact. The distant, slightly muted, screams of young folk (I now allowed to write this of 18-year-olds, given that I am in my thirties) reminded me of the distant screams and screeches of our dear neighbour's son, as he went about destroying the works of Bach.
Most kind of you to say so, William. They are something of an acquired taste, I think. My brother, for example, cast his eye over a few and said "Pretentious tosh!" However, I maintain that they exactly the opposite: they are most humble, unassuming, and entirely without guile, attempting to capture a moment rather like a miniature impressionist painting.
Of course, in my case, the medium is much diminished - but they still appeal to me. :)
3 comments:
Allow me to explain this rather personal one. My dear wife and I bought our house in 2008 (yikes, that's half a decade ago!). The previous owner was an old lady, who was "down sizing" after all of her family had moved away. She showed us around, we liked it. At the end of the visit, I asked: "Is there anything else that you think we should know about?"
It's a fair question, I hope; it rather puts the situation on the honesty of the seller. Duly, she replied, "Well, in the evenings, you can hear the German boy next door practicing his clarinet, but it is beautiful."
OK, we can cope with beautiful clarinet from German boys, we thought.
The creative interpretation of the ability of our German neighbours' son became apparent shortly after moving in. "Murdering Bach" is fair, I think. Our neighbour's son is not a gifted musician. I'd go so far as to say that I'd like him to stop; however, practice makes perfect. I am delighted to report that after five years of practice, he is now moderately (very moderately) less dreadful than when we moved in. Surely, that is an improvement.
So, the haiku! I like to read (and write) haiku as I were eating a small chocolate: in three bites, with time between each bite to experience the contents. While my haiku, undoubtedly, could never be compared to something as pleasurable as a good chocolate, I do rather like the way that this particular haiku reads if one pauses after reading each line. Heh. It makes me grin even now.
The haiga requires some explanation, because it is a personal connection: it is the smaller SCR in my college, which has a roaring fireplace in wintertime - a wider view featured in Ancient Heat, for those regular victims who might remember it.
Sitting by the fire, sucking down a reasonably decent cup of coffee, the screams and laughter of the students came through the heavy oak door which leads from the SCR to the High Table at the end of the Hall next door. It sounded much like a kindergarten, in fact. The distant, slightly muted, screams of young folk (I now allowed to write this of 18-year-olds, given that I am in my thirties) reminded me of the distant screams and screeches of our dear neighbour's son, as he went about destroying the works of Bach.
Distant agonies.
Toodlepip,
Hobbes
Thank you for your haiku, they are so interesting and funny!
Best
William
Most kind of you to say so, William. They are something of an acquired taste, I think. My brother, for example, cast his eye over a few and said "Pretentious tosh!" However, I maintain that they exactly the opposite: they are most humble, unassuming, and entirely without guile, attempting to capture a moment rather like a miniature impressionist painting.
Of course, in my case, the medium is much diminished - but they still appeal to me. :)
Toodlepip,
Hobbes
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