Still under the cloud today, so dreary. Clare's study group arrived after breakfast. Members commiserated with me over last Tuesday's nosebleed crisis. I worked on preparing next Thursday's Morning Prayer texts ready to record. Clare and I cooked lunch between us, then I went out and got the week's heavy groceries before taking a walk in Llandaff Fields.
Clare went out at supper time to her meditation group. I attempted to use the quiet time to record what I prepared earlier in the day. The background noise of fireworks, however, punctuated the reflection as I spoke. For the most part, I found it was possible to edit out the interfering sounds, and the audio file is quite acceptable, but the rest of the recording will have to wait until tomorrow.
I sent a pdf of my Grandfather's story to my cousin Dianne earlier, and this produced a long email of her childhood recollections of him telling stories about his American sojourn. I learned that he had earned the cost of his fare across the Atlantic through making and selling brass door knockers, along with his travel companion Archie, and that he stayed with Archie's aunt for a while when he arrived in New York before moving on to Philadelphia. Taking of Philadephia, there's been a lot about the state in the news lately as it's a key swing state in the US Presidential election. Today's the day, and the world waits with trepidation to learn the result, wondering if it will generate violent conflict again. As ever, Trump has been fomenting distrust and slandering his opponents. Will there be a swing back towards honesty, decency co-operation and common sense? We shall see.
Dianne's information can be edited into what I have written so far, but to do so would alter a significant part of the narrative and reduce the eleven thousand word length, not that length matters if it's worth being read. It would be more 'factual'. On the other hand, with a few changes of name and place, my speculative version could stand on its own as a story about a skilled migrant worker a century and a quarter ago. When Dianne and I talk about this after she's read through it in detail, I'll be in a better position to decision about which way to go.
After supper, I watched the final episode of Lolita Lobosco, season two. It was unashamedly romantic and sentimental with several different couples' love affairs portrayed against the background of a murder being investigated, and finally at 20 years, the bringing to justice of the Mafia plotters who murdered Lolita's father. With all ends neatly tied up, I was surprised to learn from IMDB that a series three with four more episodes has already been aired in Italy. I guess it will be a while before we see them.
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