Life

three pieces of classical music which i adore and that i would name a pet after

There are some pieces of music that touch your soul. There are others that transport you to another place and time. And there are still others that make such a racket that you want to throw them violently into a boiling ocean full of judgemental lava sharks.

Below are some of the first two. I have inexplicably combined them with pet naming ideas. Bad pet naming ideas.

Horn Concerto No. 4 in E flat K.495 3. Rondo (Allegro Vivace)Mozart

Just listen to this piece – it’s just beautiful; at parts it sounds like a conversation between two people, different and harmonious, answering and responding with violins providing a sparkling commentary. And if you listen carefully, it sounds like the music is flying – zipping above a still lake, flitting with the dragon flies.

It’s a summer’s day. It’s a picnic on a green slope beneath a blue, blue sky. It’s washing up in the kitchen with a tea-towel thrown over your shoulder, the sun streaming in through the window and your feet dancing of their own accord.

It’s majestic and yet somehow light-hearted all the same.

PROSPECTIVE PET NAME: Con-e-fur. (Like Concerto in E with a four and … okay. It’s a stretch)

Guitar Concerto in D Major 2nd Movement- Vivaldi

Oh, this is the very definition of gentle. This is floating in safety. This is a warm fire in the wintertime. It’s a hug (for your ears.).

It’s a balm for the soul, a respite in a world of crash and clamour.

I’ve loved this piece for eighteen years. Perhaps for some it is too simplistic; but sometimes the simplest things are the best and most beautiful.

PROSPECTIVE PET NAME: Major Deacon (This is so stunningly awful. I APPROVE.)

Elizabethan SerenadeRonald Binge

This – this – is beautiful. My gosh. It soothes and yet calls you to dance. It’s a weeping willow over a winding river. It waltzes, it warms. It spins a splendiferously pretty melody.

It summons to mind mild summer days with cotton-candy clouds that have absolutely nowhere to go, ambles in the countryside, and happiness unspoilt. I adore it and the way it brings beauty to even the most wintery of winter days.

PROSPECTIVE PET NAME: Bethnade (I feel bad for any potential pet I might have in the future.)


Also – and here’s just a thought: ALL OF THESE COULD BE PART OF THE SOUNDTRACK OF A GEORGETTE HEYER NOVEL. Thank you. Thought over.

Books

comparing white chocolate to georgette heyer books

… because, of course. I inhale white chocolate, and do the same with Georgette Heyer’s books. So it makes perfect sense. Either that or the following is a slow descent into madness.

Before I should go on, please don’t comment ‘WHITE CHOCOLATE ISN’T EVEN PROPER CHOCOLATE THO!’ because I don’t need that kind of outrageous negativity in my life. Also, it is! (AndPlutoISaplanettoosothere.)

Lindt Lindor White Chocolate ‘Irresistibly Smooth’

It’s not my favorite chocolate ever. It’s a bit flaky? And then the middle is smooth. Just, pick one – okay? (Or, note to self, read the packet before gobbling it down. Manage expectations etc. Specifically your ones.) It’s a whole journey in your mouth with good and bad and brilliant and confusion.

Spig Muslin – it took me years to get around to reading this and I was not a fan at first. Because I’d skimmed it and hadn’t taken the time to read it. But then I went on a one woman road trip and listened to the audio AND OH MY GOSH IT’S ACTUALLY PRETTY GOOD. It’s a journey, but we get there in the end. I could always do with more hero/heroine clashes because you know that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

(I don’t know what that phrase means. I have theories but mmhfff.)

Thornton’s White Chocolate:

It’s white chocolate that could have potential if only it took a little less sweetener and a little more milk.

Friday’s Child – it’s been awhile since I’ve read this one so this could be wrong. I reserve the right to be wrong. But – I remember hating it. Perhaps I had the wrong mindset. Perhaps when I go back into the book I’m going to think it’s wonderful. It’s the bee’s knees. The cat’s meow. BUT NOT TODAY.

If all of Heyer’s books were tea, this would be Earl Grey. (I didn’t always loathe Earl Grey; once upon a time, we had a torrid like affair. BUT NO LONGER.)

If all of Heyer’s books were white chocolate this would be- wait.

Milky Bar Buttons

Milky Bar Buttons fill me with happiness – sweet, but not too much so. Milky, as one would suspect. It’s a perfect marriage between the two.

Cotillion/Frederica – I mean, they’re just so sweet and beautiful. How could you not? They are comfort. They are sweet. They are full to the brim of vibrant characters with cackle-inducing humour.

I have written blog posts about both of them: Cotillion / Frederica.

Green and Black’s White Chocolate

I could eat several entire bars of these in one day. For me, this is my favorite white chocolate (SO FAR!) It’s sweet – but not too much. Milky, but in the perfect way. It has resolution (wut) it has flavour. It is good for you (in comparison to the rest). It is ethical. (I think.)

Civil Contract aka one of my favourite Heyer books evah!!! It’s real. Or at least, it feels real to me – far more real than the other Heyers. The ending is not overwhelmingly happy, but it is practical. Perhaps even realistic.

The romance is a slow one, built more on friendship than the heady heights of first love. And I’m completely okay with that.

I’ve podcasted about this in my very long lived five episode podcast series. I’ve discussed this passionately in a graveyard. I’ve read it multiple times.

Perhaps, over the years, my taste in brands of white chocolate and Heyer books may shift. And that’s okay – we always seem to be changing, don’t we? I don’t like some of the books my teenage self read. Because my gosh the heroes were like sausages – the wurst.

*pause for audience laughter*

*no laughter. joke flops about like a beached fish. dies horribly*

Well, this has made me long for some white chocolate. OH WAIT. I haven’t even got to the combo flavours yet!!! White chocolate and strawberry and … Nope. I should stop, lest I put an end to being so very succinct. ah-hem.

QUESTION: HOW MANY TIMES WAS SWEET USED AS A DESCRIPTION IN THIS BLOG POST?

ANSWER: NOT ENOUGH.

happy reading!

Recountings

hooray for Deb Grantham!

***mild spoilers ahead***

I’ve ranted and raved about the Heyer in which the heroine shoots the hero. How about the Heyer in which the heroine kidnaps the hero? Guys. I am ALL over that.

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Faro’s Daughter

by YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHO

So let me set this raving and rambling post up: Miss Deborah Grantham has ended up – through no fault of her own – assisting her aunt in running a gambling establishment. There’s a young lord – Adrian – who has fallen in love with her and the young lord’s cousin – Mr. Max Ravenscar – who is determined to stop him from marrying Deb.

He meets with Deb Grantham. And in the process of doing this, He With The Suitably Wonderous Name (Ravenscar, people. RAVENSCAR) manages to thoroughly and completely offend her.

Deb Grantham  – who was never even considering marrying Adrian – vows to make Ravenscar pay, by pretending to do the very thing. Because obviously that is the only option – nay! the only reasonable course of action.

She doesn’t like Ravenscar. She detests him. If he were a slug, she’d dump a whole bag of salt on him.

“Oh, if I were a man, to be able to call him out, and run him through, and through, and through!”

Lady Bellingham [Deb’s Aunt], who appeared quite shattered, said feebly that you could not run a man through three times.

“At least, I don’t think so,” she added. “Of course, I never was present at a duel, but there are always seconds, you know, and they would be bound to stop you.”

“Nobody would stop me!” declared Miss Grantham blood-thirstily. “I would like to carve him into mincemeat!”

Miss Grantham, by the way, is quintessentially awesome. (Also, she is sort of falling in love with Ravenscar, but don’t tell her that.)

Ravenscar has an incredibly low opinion of her – and makes it known. So Miss Grantham has …

A strong inclination to burst into tears accompanied these more violent ambitions, and was followed almost immediately by a resolve to punish Mr Ravenscar in the most vindictive way open to her, and a perfectly irrational determination to show him that she was every bit as bad as he imagined her to be, if not worse.

I am rubbing my hands together gleefully, folks. GLEE. FULL. Y.

WITH MANY OTHER THINGS HAPPENING TOO – a bet, a runaway etc etc … Ravenscar attempts to pay Miss Grantham off.

As you can imagine, it does not go down well.

Miss Grantham’s scheme grows more and more outrageous – and hilarious. And it all culminates in one perfectly delicious series of events. (A KIDNAPPING!! A HILARIOUS KIDNAPPING IN A MANNER THAT ONLY HEYER COULD PULL OFF! I will leave you the following quote to whet your appetite:

‘Will you have some more wine, sir?’ asked Deborah, apparently conscious of her duties as his hostess.

‘No,’ said Ravenscar baldly.

‘You are not very polite!’ she said.

‘I do not feel very polite. If you care to untie my ankles, however, I will engage to offer you my chair.’

My dudes, read this one. It’s hysterical. It’s witty. It’s a romantic comedy with the best of them. An entire blacksmith’s forge worth of sparks fly between the main characters. I love it – and you will too.

(ALSO THE HEROINE KIDNAPS THE HERO. DID I MENTION THAT?)

Books, Recountings

that one georgette heyer short story that boggles me. BOGGLES. ME.

Picture this …

It’s the Regency Era – an Era which, by the way, should Romance Novels be believed, stretches on for a few hundred years and has possibly continued even until this day. It is entirely populated by eligible aristocracy. Dukes and Marquis and Lords and Earls. All handsome, unmarried, and broken in a way that only can be fixed by the love of a good woman.

And there are the maidens. And disgraced daughters of Earls or vicars etc. And fiery spitfires (all with red hair. You can’t have a temper unless you have red hair. Also: they are all beautiful when they are angry). And wallflowers. And bluestockings. And just, lots of nouns that denote ‘this here woman is about to get HITCHEEDDD!!’

Oh. And widows.

You are a widow. You have a beautiful daughter. You want her to marry well. You are being favoured by the attentions of a Marquis hitherto elusive when it comes to showing intentions of marriage. You are CONVINCED that he is showing interest in your daughter. You are CONVINCED that an offer of marriage is to come. Also, you are mildly jealous. (You are thirty-seven, by the way. About to retire into a nursing home.) (He is forty. HE COULDN’T BE POSSIBLY INTERESTED IN YOU. OH NOOO.)

BUT THEN … your daughter WANTS TO MARRY SOMEONE ELSE.

(I KNOW. YOU – THE WIDOW – ARE QUAKING IN YOUR CUSTOM LEATHER BOOTS. YOU CANNOT BELIEVE IT TO BE SO.)

Your Marquis comes in. He declares his intentions. You feel TERRIBLE because you must turn him away. Your daughter is to be married … TO ANOTHER.

And then he says, before he leaves, that he must put in a good word for your daughter; that she is in love and ought to marry the man of her dreams.

*RECORD SCRATCH*

(This device won’t be invented for a good few years – but you are a very forward thinking widow.)

Get this: The Marquis doesn’t want to be your daughter’s HUSBAND. He wants to be her FATHER.

(A line that, really, I never thought I’d have to type.)

I feel as though I could facepalm. My neighbours could facepalm. England – nay, EUROPE – could facepalm. The entire world hears your thoughts and collectively slaps their hands to their foreheads and groans.

Clearly there are two offenders here:

  • The Widow … I’m not sure HOW you managed to miss the fact that the man is falling in love with you, but by George you’ve not got it. I’m sure that this obliviousness is Not Unknown in the world so I shall forgive you for it.
  • The Marquis … mainly the Marquis … because if the WOMAN THAT YOU ARE COURTING BELIEVES THAT YOU ARE COURTING HER DAUGHTER THEN YOU ARE DOING SOMETHING VERY WRONG.

I foresee a VERY interesting and entertaining future for this couple. Full of charming misunderstandings:

“You mean the man who stopped our carriage in the middle of the night with a GUN wanted to ROB us??!!!?”

Or:

“Darling! Of COURSE I think you should buy those gloves – didn’t you realise that when I moved your cup three-quarters of an inch to the left on a full moon on the sixth day of the week last month when the dog barked twice and the footman coughed once? Why! I thought it was as clear as crystal!”

A Husband for Fanny can be found in Snowdrift and Other Stories by Georgette Heyer

Books, Recountings

why i love ‘frederica’ by georgette heyer (and you totally should too)

No one quite does it like Georgette Heyer. When I pick up one of her books and dive in, that’s it – I’ll disappear for a wee while, completely buried. Perhaps I’ll come up for air, but more often than not, it’s to grab another one of her works.

And here’s one of her books that’s a favourite of mine. (Most of them are favourites. Picking an absolute favourite is nigh on impossible. I do have least favourites *quelle horreur!!!* but that’s for another time.)

THE PLOT DOESN’T STOP FOR A MOMENT AND IS SPARKLING AND WITTY AND HYSTERICAL

So we have this rich bloke – a Marquis – in his ivory palace who gets everything he wants and is terribly bored with it. (I’m sure EVERYONE relates to this. *cough*) His relatives want him to introduce their daughters into society with lavish balls – at his expense, of course – but he’s all ‘lemme think about … ha! ha! No’ (but in FAR more distinguished and witty tones).

“Wretch! I shan’t allow you to take a rise out of me! I want to talk to you about Jane!”
“Who the devil is—Oh, yes, I know! One of your girls!”
“My eldest daughter, and, let me remind you, your niece, Alverstoke!”
“Unjust, Louisa, I needed no reminder!”
“I am bringing the dear child out this season,”[…]
“You’ll have to do something about her freckles—if she’s the one I think she is,” he interrupted. “Have you tried citron-water?”
“I didn’t invite you to come here to discuss Jane’s appearance!” she snapped.
“Well, why did you invite me?”
“To ask you to hold a ball in her honour—at Alverstoke House!” she disclosed, rushing her fence.
“To do what?” 

Enter Frederica Merriville who wants just a tiny favour from him. He is Not Bored By This. And offers to help her and her family (she has a Beautiful Sister and Frederica is determined that such Beauty is Not To Be Wasted) enter into society. And then suddenly – in almost a blink of his languid eye – the Merriville family is plunging him into one scrape after the other, and he’s got people banging on his door about a dog disturbing some Picturesque Milking Cows in central London, there’s the Merriville brother who is Convinced that the Marquis is VERY MUCH INTERESTED in the latest technology (he’s not), and a Fateful Hot Air Balloon ride.

And then, indignity upon indignity, his esteemed personage has to look after someone. On a sickbed.

Oh how will he cope?!

HOW WILL HE SURVIVE????

THE HEROINE IS PRETTY DOPE

There are several different types of Heyer Heroines, and Frederica falls amongst the ranks of Pheobe Marlowe (Sylvester) and Venetia (Venetia). She’s sensible, but she’s plucky and she has a sense of humour. She’s not as staid as some heroines, nor as silly as others.

I approve.

THE MARQUIS OF ALVERSTOKE IS ALMOST AS COOL AS THE COOLEST DUDE TO EVER DUDE

My all-time FAVOURITE of Heyer’s characters is one that barely appears in his book. (BUT WHAT AN IMPRESSION HE LEAVES!!) Imagine my joy and surprise when I realised that there was another character almost as wonderful as he!

“Perhaps,” murmured his lordship, “I yielded to a compassionate impulse.”
“A what?” gasped his best friend. 
“Oh, did you think I never did so?” said his lordship, the satirical glint in his eyes extremely pronounced. “You wrong me! I do, sometimes—not frequently, of course, but every now and then!” 

My brain sort of fuzzed over when I Saw The Truth in a reread.

‘HE IS LIKE HIM!!!!!!!’ I thought calmly. “THIS IS AMAZING!!”

FREDERICA’S YOUNGEST BROTHERS ARE THE BEST THING EVER

I have a soft spot for siblings in novels. Particularly when they are so SINCERE and OBLIVIOUS to everything else.

And her youngest brother, Felix – he’s da actual bomb (not in a Lord Legerwood way but in his own irrepressible ‘let me join this Hot Balloon adventure whatdoyoumeanIcan’tgoupwiththem??!’ way.) He *somehow* gets Alverstoke to do things that Alverstoke really doesn’t have the slightest inclination of doing. Like, going around a foundry. Alverstoke has never even thought of it. He’d probably rather recite the dictionary backwards whilst dining with ALL of his beloved relatives than- No. He’d probably hate both of them equally.

In a lazy kind of way.

ALSO, THE DOG

There’s this scene – hySTERICALLY FUNNY OF COURSE – where some of the Merrivilles are attempting to get out of a scrape by the actions of their dog.

All the outraged tradesmen are like: this dog is a coMMEN MUTT AND PROBABLY TERRIBLE AND SHOULD BE DESTROYED becauSE IT ALARMED OUR COWS AND PUT THEM OFF PRODUCING MILK!!

And the Marquis and his DOPE secretary are like: mmmMM THIS DOG? This dog that is a priCLESS BREED?? This dog from a FOREIGN COUNTRY?? o.0 YOU WANT TO DESTROY THIS DOG?

“I didn’t smuggle the dog into the country; I merely caused him to be smuggled out of Baluchistan.” 

ALSO, THE OTHER CHARACTERS. ALL OF THEM

The whole cast. Are. The. Best. Even the two characters that are just MY GOSH UGH THIS IS FUNNY BUT I WOULDN’T WANT TO STAY IN THE SAME ROOM WITH YOU.

Even if it was an internet chatroom. ARE THOSE STILL GOING BY THE WAY???

This novel is a sheer, rippling delight from page one. It’s charming. It’s nigh on perfect. I love it. Read it. You just might love it too.

goodreads // open library