Richard of York

There are seven colours in a rainbow, right? Wrong. It contains every colour we can see. The same holds true for most things in life: science, music, personality, art, sexuality, politics and favoured combinations of pizza toppings. But we take each subject and impose the restricted colours of the rainbow onto them - those "boxes" that I hate.

Taking those "boxes" to that previous list: chemistry, Romantic, self-confident, Pre-Raphaelite, intuitive, Liberal with extra pepperoni and anchovies. That may be the recipe for my perfect woman, but it's also an example of not understanding any of the subjects.

Q.) Where, within biochemistry, does pure biology end and pure chemistry begin?

A.) Nowhere.


Q.) When, in music, does Classical turn to Romantic?

A.) It doesn't. I can cite examples of both in a 50 year window.



The examples go on and on: Picasso (nuff said), heterosexual/bisexual/homosexual, Liberal/Social Democrat, capers/olives/spicy chicken.

These are all just words that filter out some of the colours that we would be able to see if we were not conditioned by classification. I have never in my life met an extrovert who is not also an introvert. I have never in my life come across an introvert who is incapable of façade. Everything and everyone we experience is unique and cannot be described exactly. Each experience is, by definition, a step into the future.

Of course we need these "marker words" in order to both properly navigate and describe the world we live in. But they are not words in impenetrable "boxes"; they are markers on the axles of cogs.

Just Over a League Away

I know you're there. You have to be there - obscured from view, so close I can see your breath in the sky. You rise as I fall away, holding station with reason but not with hope. The path between us is not flat, but bent by the physical laws of life.

I was happy in the mountains. I even think from the highest point I may have been able to see you through the haze. When the fear came I tried to run to you. Down the scree and then falling, sliding until I could fall no more. Water's edge. No further.

The lapping folds trim half the grey sky. I cannot see you now.

I know you're there. You have to be there.

I'll climb again, regain my vantage - but I'll stay here awhile. I can't see you. But standing here with water at my feet, I know you are just over a league away.

Van the Man

A friend gave me just two hours to write "family programme notes" for Beethoven's seventh symphony. I tried to teach him a lesson by doing it so badly he'd never ask me again. Unfortunately, he's using them, saying he hasn't laughed so much in years. Hoist by my own petard methinks.

"...Of Beethoven's symphonies, the seventh is probably the one that most beautifully poses more questions than it answers. Unlike the third or sixth symphonies, it doesn't say it's about anything, but for most people it paints clearer pictures in the mind than either 'Eroica' or the 'Pastoral' will ever do. Every time you listen to it you can make up a whole film in your mind. If you try to listen to it, you will not be disappointed.

Although Classical in form (note the capital 'C') this symphony is Romantic in content. A symphony of this type almost always has four movements: fast - slow - dancey - fast (typically known as; 'allegro' - 'adagio' - 'scherzo' - 'allegro').

I won't go any further into technicalities, I'll just give you one mental 'film' from me.

First movement:

I can never think of the opening without seeing many, many birds of prey gathering, searching for thermals, and then rising on them to get to the height from which they can carry out their hunt. They then halt and observe the frightened rabbits (otherwise known as the french horn section who have just seen their 'lip-splitter' of a first entry, and are writing their resignations). The birds perform a formation 'peel-and-dive'. The rest of the story need only be listened for. No interpretation is wrong.

Second movement:

For me this is a drift down a river. Lie back and relax if you can. It's smooth, regular, almost comforting. You will soon feel the undercurrents though. Beethoven here manages to make one repeated note work as a tune (jealous!). Oh, and enjoy the exhilarating creep-up-to, and blast through the gully in the middle, and then the opening out into the sea.

Third movement:

I can't help but think of about one-hundred lambs being all let out of a pen at the same time as I was having a picnic for this movement. "Bounce, bounce, munch, munch, stand regally, stand regally, feel a bit sad, feel a bit sad... repeat ad nauseam". Again, make it up in your own mind! It's all here and no idea is wrong!

Fourth movement:

Remember those rabbits? (The horn section) Well, they're scared again. This time they're at either end of a medieval battle. The action ebbs and flows with every imaginable emotion covered. Certainty turns to trepidation, which turns back to certainty, which turns to fear, which turns to hesitation. "Back to battle! Forth!!" (fourth?!)... "Um, we're a bit lost here, Sarge..." - "That way, men!!!" After much running uphill, victory is finally and emphatically secured.

Make up your own story though. Nothing is wrong..."