Melted Into Thin Air

26th July 2012 Thursday

Prospero:
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158

On Tuesday night we sat in the Swan Theatre in Stratford and watched The Tempest. At the interval my husband said he might as well go back to the hotel as he couldn’t understand any of it. I asked him to stay. I was struggling to grasp some of the language too. When I first met my husband he would have been able to quote this speech verbatim. I used to lie on his bed in the horrible council flat where he lived and listen to him learning his lines for whatever Shakespeare play he was practising.

That part of his life is over now, dissolved  - melted into thin air.

This evening while the air is sticky as treacle we walk through deep shady woods and I’m sure I can smell the powdery blossom of the mimosa tree. My husband says he feels lost and  doesn’t know why he’s so tired.

I make Ratatouille for supper which we have with green beans and broccoli, sprinkled with walnuts and grated Gruyere cheese.  Someone told me the secret of a good Ratatouille is to fry the aubergines and peppers and courgettes separately before cooking them in the rich tomato sauce. Propbably too much oil but it stops it being a watery stew and turns it into a Mediterranean delight.  Especially with a handful of chopped fresh marjoram stirred in at the end.

We  eat in front of the TV watching the Proms - Daniel Barenboim conducting  Beethoven’s 5th Symphony. My husband knows it by heart - the language  of music he hasn’t lost.