January 6th, 2005

The Lows

It was a bright, clear, fresh morning, but between my popping into the Glodwick Health Centre to pick up a prescription and my popping out again it had clouded over. I had meant to go up the Lows and take some photographs, but....

I sulked a bit. Ailz said I was depressing her, so we went up the Lows anyway but couldn't find a way to get the wheelchair off the road and onto the hillside. I leaned over the fence dividing Jinnah Close from open country and snapped away in the gloom.

The Lows are not low. They're an outcrop that was once upon a time the bottom of a shallow Carboniferous sea. The black shale is full of dinky little fossils- mussels and worms and indeterminate floaty stuff. I have a pile of it on my window ledge. If I peer at it closely I can make out shapes.

On the way back I took a photo of the building that used to house The Oldham East Co-operative Society. It has this elegant art nouveau lettering above the door.

We got home and up-loaded the pix, but there was nothing good enough to post. Eheu! I'll have to go back sometime and try again.

My Names

I've never used a pseudonym before. And I wouldn't have done so here on LJ if it hadn't been the etiquette (so to speak.) I don't mind people knowing who I really am- and if you want to be told I'll tell you, no qualms.

But I like my adopted name. I've started to identify with it. It's more elegant and eloquent than the real thing.

But what's with this "reality" business anyway? Which is more real- the name my parents gave me or the one I have given myself?

My real first name derives from an ancient Roman family, the most famous member of which has a leading role in Shakespeare. It's further identified with the guy who set the early Christian fashion for going out into the Egyptian desert and hallucinating (otherwise known as monasticism.)

Wanna have a guess? No prizes I'm afraid.

And my last name is an odd little monosyllable of uncertain derivation. It might mean "grey" or it might have something to do with milling.

But Poliphilo- he's this Italian Renaissance Alice who scuttles through Wonderland (in search of his girlfriend) oohing and aahing at the architecture and furnishings. I didn't spend a whole lot of time choosing the name, but I find it fits very comfortably. Lover of Many Things is what it means.

I want it on my tombstone.