I Believe in Fires at Midnight...

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Listen to this Jethro Tull song here to find out what's been going through my mind this morning...

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'I believe in fires at midnight, when the dogs have all been fed.

A golden toddy on the mantle; a broken gun beneath the bed.

Silken mist outside the window -Frogs and newts slip in the dark.

Too much hurry ruins a body: I'll sit easy; fan the spark.'

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'Kindled by the dying embers of another working day.

Go upstairs: take off your make-up -Fold your clothes neatly away.

Me, I'll sit and write this love song

As I all too seldom do -Build a little fire this midnight.

It's good to be back home with you.'

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I'm sure it's because Ben's away, and we had a long phone chat as I sat by the log fire last night. He was in a snowy Copenhagen, once again in a hotel chosen by the secretary at work, once again in the red light district!
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He ended by saying: 'See you late tomorrow night!' Poor man, I had to remind him it was only Wednesday night, and he gets back on Friday at midnight...

A home for elderly relatives...

Several years ago my husband Ben rescued two portraits, of rather dubious quality and condition, from his parents' attic. The portraits have 'Uncle Joshua' and 'Aunt Selina' scrawled on the backs of their frames, apparently by the cousin of Ben's dad. This makes Uncle Joshua the several-times great uncle of Ben and our boys, and Selina their great-whatever aunt by marriage.

Ben's mum had no interest in these ancient relatives by marriage, and we thought we'd have a go at giving them a home. To be honest, they are quite hard work. Hung on a wall, they are very sombre and serious, and tend to intimidate any room where we put them.

I decided to give them another chance a few weeks ago, and propped them on two small cabinets on our upstairs landing.

Here is Uncle Joshua. I gave him a few 'props', such as an antique telescope in a box on the right, and another little wooden box which contains a few vintage travel tickets. I couldn't resist putting his bow tie, or a reasonable facsimile, in the horn cup, although I think this is verging on the twee.

Aunt Selina was very much easier to accessorise! I brought out some of my lace, which hasn't been displayed for quite a while, and a few bits of jewellery which look vaguely like the two brooches she is wearing in the picture.

Now, it is agreed by casual viewers and experts alike that the portrait of Joshua is much better quality than that of his wife. Ben's dad takes the cynical view that old Joshua spent more money on a better portrait of himself. I've thought of a second possibility, however: is it possible that Joshua treasured his wife so much that he paid to have her portrait painted first, and then waited until he was older and had saved up a second time for his own portrait? Of course, there is no way of telling which was painted first, as the two portraits don't appear markedly different in age or style. But maybe the romantic option is the real one...