Carmen and more elephants

There should have been a photo of Trafalgar Square here in celebration of my amazing cultural evening but I forgot my camera, so here's a photo I just like.

From the (almost) ridiculous to the sublime.  On Monday I was seeking elephants to photograph, Tuesday night I was watching Carmen – amazingly a free viewing in Trafalgar Square where the opera was transmitted direct from the Opera  House to the big screen erected between the lions.  I hadn’t seen Carmen before and was absolutely transfixed.  It was fantastic!  I hadn’t realized how much of the music I knew, such as Toreador and others – someone said a lot of it has been used in adverts on TV.

It was warm at 7 when the choirmaster from that TV programme about getting people to join and/or start choirs locally, persuaded us all to join in and sing Toreador in English.  Somehow it doesn’t sound quite so sexy in English, but it was great seeing the public (especially the normally reticent English) singing with gusto.  He has such enthusiasm and charisma to manage that.  One of the spectators sporting a red flower behind one ear said she had come because it was free and she knew it was about gypsies – a synopsis of the reasons most people came I think.

Got rather colder as the evening wore on and I bought soup for myself and two companions in the interval – we had a bottle of wine too so were in ‘good spirits’.  We had to pour the wine into a plastic jug and use plastic cups to drink it – I suppose they were afraid of damage and/or violence.

The event was sponsored by BP but they were very low-key about it, perhaps because they are very unpopular just now.  There were no baseball hats, plastic macs or cushions handed out this time.  They are probably too expensive to provide now given the expense of trying to clear up the disastrous oil spillage.

Because I live in central London I was able to walk both there and back and because I was quite chilly by the time it finished, I walked/ran home with my disabled friend trying to keep up with her rather sophisticated scooter – no little runaround that only does 3 miles an hour!  Hers is called a  tramper and she rides it as if she’s a queen.  If she had whips and knives she could be a Cleopatra.  As it is, she makes do with calling out ‘excuse me darling’ as passers-by scatter in her wake.   I told her she could be the pacer for someone in practice for races.

Then we come to the elephants – on Monday afternoon I started out with the map I had downloaded from the internet allegedly showing the whereabouts of them all.  It is not exactly accurate and has clumps of elephants marked in one spot when they are in fact far more scattered.  Anyway, I found a small group in St James’ Park and two much larger groups in Green Park, including one on the pavement near the tube station.  All in all, I must have photographed about 20 and with the 15 I did a few days ago near the Mayor’s gaff, that makes 35 – only another 225 to go.  Perhaps I need to co-opt my partner in my project – there is a limited time, because the elephants are going to be taken away in July.  I wonder what they will do to them all – they would take up a lot of space if kept together.  Maybe they will let each company have the ones that they ‘bought’ or sponsored.

I was disappointed to find, predictably of course, that I was not the only person determined to find/photograph all the elephants and a diverse lot they were – a young business woman, a pensioner and a young (professional?) photographer with a very sophisticated camera - not trainspotter types at all, although I may have been wearing an anorak (no, it was a yachtie jacket – not that I have a yacht, but that’s another story).  I don’t mind having pictures with children on or by the elephants or adults looking/ stroking them etc., but people tend to get out of the way often when they see me with my camera or maybe I look scary!!!  Of course, there is a lot of anxiety around strangers taking pictures of children, but I don’t think any of us constituted any harm.  For a start, most of the children will be unrecognizable given the distance you need to stand to get the whole elephant in focus.

One of the best things about the elephant invasion is the conversations that spring up between complete strangers.  We Londoners are not the most talkative of people (not because we’re unfriendly so much as there are more nutters to the square inch in a big city) so we are cautious.  Anyway, in my quest I have talked with other photographers, children (parents in toe of course), businessmen, professionals, homeless people etc.

Oh well ONLY ANOTHER 125 TO GO!!!!!  Below this I have put a photo of a few elephants just to remind me (and anyone reading this blog in the blogosphere) of their amazing  explosion into London.

Anger Management/Temperament etc.

I have been giving some thought to my temperament/way of being lately, because I am trying to prevent episodes of depression (which I have finally accepted I am just going to have to live with) with some cognitive therapy and ideas of my own.

One of the definitions of depression is that it is suppressed anger with anybody, everybody and everything and that I must learn to accept that I have no control over other people, places or people – just me and my attitude/behaviour.  Makes me think that perhaps I am a control freak or just plain arrogant – either possible aspects of my personality I am unwilling to accept, but think I may need too.

As I learn to cope with both aspects of my bipolarity, I find that as I begin to feel better, towards the manic, my tolerance tends to go and I can become very angry, particularly over what I feel to be an injustice wreaked on someone else!  I am not so good at getting angry because of someone treating me badly.  Maybe that is why in depression mode I rarely socialize and disappear up my own backside as my partner says in his inimitable style – am I worried subconsciously that I might become uncontrollably angry and/or cry because I don’t like what someone is saying or behaving?

I have attended an anger management course and find that it is very difficult to count to 10, breathe deeply or any of the other tactics – they all seem to fly out of the window when I become cross.  The only way I can cope really is to leave the room/space or company of the person I am angry with.  If I could just learn to not shout as a parting shot – I know how annoying that can be.

My ex-husband used to move from room to escape my ‘nagging’ as he called it and I found that could build my anger up; he also sulked if he didn’t get his own way and then when I asked what was wrong he would say ‘you know’.  In the end, sometimes, in despair I would say, ‘Perhaps I am thick or something but I don’t know what I have done …’  But he came from a long line of sulkers – his brother sulked for so long one Christmas that his wife was driven to packing a suitcase and threatening to leave, at which point he admitted to having forgotten what had annoyed him in the first place.  Now that is weird behaviour in my book!

I have spoken with one of my contemporaries is mentor as well as friend and she suggested I  release my anger by some sort of energy outburst – hers is hitting a plastic bottle on the bed until she is exhausted.  That wouldn’t work for me, but perhaps punching something (other than my partner) might, but ideally a padded cell into which I could run screaming, hitting and kicking the walls.  However, that ain’t going to happen as our flat is minute – personally, I think every workplace should be supplied with a padded room for all members of staff, but it would probably be used so often a queue would have to form and anger doesn’t sit well with organized queuing which we Brits are so good at.

My problem is that I am far more likely to hurt myself when I am angry by, literally, banging my head against a brick wall or kicking the wall so hard that I hurt my leg.  I have tried howling in the shower, but the last time I did that my partner, who I thought had ‘left the building’ to escape, came in with a worried expression on his face and asked if I was all right.  I said, through clenched teeth, ‘just go away’ and he left the room looking puzzled.  (Mind you, it worked in one way – at least he didn’t go on yelling back at me!)

Health professionals will always ask a bipolar if they are violent, I suppose because they think you could be dangerous, but my psychiatric team know very well that I am much more of a danger to myself at such times.

Therapists suggest looking back at your childhood to try to understand why we are like we are today and that is an interesting exercise.  I come from a very loving background and have two sisters (one older, one younger) and an older brother.  Of the four of us, my older sister has red hair and the temper to match – she had an explosive temperament as a child and would become so angry that she would grind her teeth and clench her fists.  My brother used to kick me under the table and pull a face sometimes  to make me laugh and I would get my face slapped for my pains.  My parents were very firm in believing that behaving so angrily was not even on their radar and she was punished for it – not in any corporal way, as they weren’t that kind of parent.  Their punishment was a severe talking too and the implication that they were disappointed in you.  In consequence, perhaps, I learnt that anger was an emotion that it was wrong to show and perhaps went too far in believing I shouldn’t even get angry.  I am no psychologist, but I have wondered …  My  sister has of course learnt to control her anger over the years and channels it into throwing herself into causes she feels passionately about and lots of exercise – she is very sporty; does running, swimming, surfing etc.

All very curious, but still doesn’t help me to work out what to do when I am angry – fortunately, my partner is big enough for me to know that punching him wouldn’t work.  He could just put his arm out and I wouldn’t be able to reach him.  Perhaps I should get a punchbag …

Photograph at top is to remind myself that tranquility is something I aspire too.