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onceuponatime
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Pendulum
Pendulum. Pen - du - lum. Peeennnnjjjjuuuuullllluuuummmm.
It has a way of going away and coming back again. Sweeping into your head smooth and brassy and out again sleek and swift.
It makes me think of 'my grandfather's clock was too large for the
shelf...' one of the songs we had on a yellowed cassette we used to
listen to again and again along with P-O-S-H (from chitty chitty bang
bang) and 'never smile at a crocodile.'
It has arrived because I have starting reading a book called 'Foucault's Pendulum' by Umberto Eco. It is quite a dense and complicated book so I don't really know what it's about yet, but every pages is filled up with triggers for strings of images that are hugely evocative. So far I am in a cavernous museum with dilapidated aeroplanes and bicycles and the like strung up, and glass baubles and copper tubes and alchemist's gold...
And a great big pendulum swinging around from a very high ceiling.
Not quite sure what it's doing there yet, but we shall see....
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