Had to be up and out earlyish this morning for Hélène Cixous’s seminar at the Cité Universitaire, Maison Heinrich Heine, her second-to-last seminar for this academic year. It is a sunny day and I cut through the Luxembourg Garden on my way to the Metro. Most of the other people were joggers, including a squad of firemen. The leaves are all coming out, the flowering trees are in flower or done flowering (for some) and a number of the entry gates are locked against the gilets jaunes demonstrations for today. Coming home after the seminar at 2 pm I thought, for the first time in a long time, how special the shade of chestnut trees is, deep, sheltering and, at the moment, a very tender green. Coming home the Garden was already packed with people of all ages: chess players, boulistes, tennis players, kids kicking balls (the playground is closed because it is being refurbished), strollers , sunbathers, readers, talkers…
Pesky business—a tax extension to request, but which requires payment of the estimated final bill (ouch!), Eurostar (my train to London last week was much delayed because of a Brexit demonstrator on the roof of St Pancras and a strike of French customs officers), healthcare…first world problems.
Reading: Heaney, Stepping Stones, again: I was reminded of it by someone last week and thought I should read it again; A Bergson lecture (1901) on Time, only now published in French; a book by the contemporary Italian, Tabbuchi (wonderful); Jack Robinson aka Charles Boyle, Good Morning Mr Crusoe (wonderful); and the usual poets I return to, plus a new one, the lovely Bernard O’Donaghue’s The Seasons of Cullen Church. Bernard O’Donaghue introduced us readers at Blackwell’s in Oxford in February, and I bought two of his books, which I am very much enjoying.
Oh, and yesterday afternoon, late, the Japanese bamboo show at the Quai Branly.
Later, a movie.