I can feel it in my jaw, that's normally how it starts, and then I find myself closing my eyes tight, like a child pretending to be asleep on Christmas Eve, but there's no way of stemming the flow, turning off the tap. Even the stiffest upper lip eventually quivers and I am forced to accept the reality of my situation and work on damage limitation. It only happens this way when other people are around, but I always manage to pull something out of the hat. When I am alone (which is rare) I can throw caution to the wind, safe in the knowledge that nobody will know, and simply surrender myself to the emotion of the moment, which is often potent but short-lived. A hotel room is the best place to accept my fate in these circumstances, and there have been many wardrobes, Corby trouser presses and coffee makers that have witnessed my tears of joy in the past. Because, let's face it, we are talking about tears of joy, not sadness. Ultimately, there's nothing better than a work of art that moves its audience, be it a novel, a poem, or a piece of music - let's not ignore the potency of the middle eight, designed to assault the sensibilities of the vulnerable. Even Land of Confusion by Genesis took me by surprise this week, not to mention the Pet Shop Boys' It's a Sin - "Father, forgive me...".
And now, sitting alone in the sun lounge on a bright Tuesday evening, but nevertheless dangerously close to other human beings, the symptoms make their presence known again as I knew they would. I am on the verge of finishing The Offing by Benjamin Myers, a beautifully written novel about 16-year-old Robert Appleyard and the much older (and wiser) Dulcie Piper, both living in post-war Northern England.
I won't enlarge upon the story because that would ruin it for those of you who intend to read this wonderful, positive and happy book, but I will say that the writing is wonderful. Myers' descriptions of the English countryside and nature in the height of summer are second to none. It is a novel that will remain with me for a long time to come, and that's a quality reserved for the few.
In times of lockdown, The Offing offers an escape route back to the long and endless summers of youth.
And now, sitting alone in the sun lounge on a bright Tuesday evening, but nevertheless dangerously close to other human beings, the symptoms make their presence known again as I knew they would. I am on the verge of finishing The Offing by Benjamin Myers, a beautifully written novel about 16-year-old Robert Appleyard and the much older (and wiser) Dulcie Piper, both living in post-war Northern England.
I won't enlarge upon the story because that would ruin it for those of you who intend to read this wonderful, positive and happy book, but I will say that the writing is wonderful. Myers' descriptions of the English countryside and nature in the height of summer are second to none. It is a novel that will remain with me for a long time to come, and that's a quality reserved for the few.
In times of lockdown, The Offing offers an escape route back to the long and endless summers of youth.
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| My copy is now back on the bookshelf |
