Section:GDN 1J PaGe:7 Edition Date:190831 Edition:01 Zone: Sent at 30/8/2019 16:48 cYanmaGentaYellowbla
Sat urday 31 Aug ust 2019 The Guardian •
7
Fruit has just started falling in
the damson orchard. We can’t
help squashing those that lie on
the narrow paths to the rusting
shepherd’s hut that’s home for
a few days. There’s no phone
signal, no wifi , and we’ve eschewed
the camp stove in favour of the
outdoor fi replace. Smoke coiling
into the evening air wards off
the gnats and midges while the
potatoes nestle in the embers.
I’ve just started boiling the
eggs when my son returns from
the woodpile with an expression
of blended revulsion and
puzzlement, and holds out a log
on which are arrayed what look
at fi rst glance like a row of large
turds, though on closer inspection
they are more like carbonised
doughballs. They’re brittle and
almost weightless and, cracked
open, they reveal growth rings- matryoshka layers of charcoal
and silver, ball within ball within
ball. A copious dusting of spores
escapes to coat fi ngers, clothes and
the logs we’re perched on.
They are King Alfred’s cake fungi ,
Daldinia concentrica. Inedible,
but we could have used them as
slow-burning fi relighters had we
discovered them sooner.
A campfi re yarn unfurls. A story
about a great man, king of England - or was it just Wessex? I’m out of
my depth without the internet to
supply the dates, the affi liations.
All I have is this charred-looking
fungus and a mental image I’m
pretty sure I’m remembering from
a Ladybird book. So the colour-
saturated story that emerges is,
like the blue woodsmoke drifting
into the green and gold evening, a
fi ckle live thing: still growing, still
changing, and lacking in anything
solid. But it’s when I get to the part
everyone knows – the king nodding
off after promising to watch the
buns baking and the incinerated
results – that my son becomes
sceptical. He all but accuses me of
peddling ninth-century fake news.
I wonder how Alfred himself
would view the damage 1,100 years
of telling, retelling and half-telling
have done to his legacy. Perhaps
he’d take some small satisfaction
that, in my mangling of the truth,
I’ve boiled our eggs to rubber and
burned the spuds.
Amy-Jane Beer - An article said Vanessa Agyemang
featured on the front of the African
magazine X and she started Copper
Dust 18 months ago. The magazine
was called Zen and she started her
business four years ago ( ‘I craved
stability ...’ , 24 August, page 53). - An article referred to
“Oxford’s giant JET (Joint European
Taurus)”. That nuclear fusion
project is in fact called Joint
European Torus, and is based in
Oxfordshire, not Oxford ( Eddie
Stobart halts share trading after
‘£2m error’ , 24 August, page 44).
Editorial complaints and corrections can be sent to
[email protected] or The readers’ editor,
Kings Place, 90 York Way, London N1 9GU; alternatively
call 020 3353 4736 from 10am to 1pm Monday to Friday.Johnson’s “It’s just about a Queen’s
speech ” is as insulting as “We just
came to look at Salisbury cathedral ”.
Kath Howard
Telford, Shropshire- Heartbreaking. Pure Caravaggio.
Aesthetic delight. Moral dilemma
( Eyewitness , 30 August).
Polly Devlin
London - Margaret Sargent ( Letters , 29
August) asks if somebody could
defi ne democracy for her. Is a
country where 90% of the press is
rightwing truly a democracy?
Barry Norman
Leeds - Over recent years I’ve kept calm
and let it pass when you youngsters at
the Guardian fi rst published a photo
of John Entwistle of the Who and said
it was Pete Townshend; then pictured
a Vespa and called it a Lambretta.
But... Oh no... a photo of the Kinks
where you give three out of four of
them the wrong names ( Brothers are
talking again and working on new
songs , 28 August). Guardian: You
really got me goin’ now!
Alan Broughton (70-year-old mod)
Salford, Greater Manchester - One of the greatest innings must be
Gordon Greenidge’s in 1984 at Lord’s
( Letters , 30 August). With the West
Indies facing an almost impossible
342 to win, he scored 214 not out to
enable them to beat England.
David Waldman
Cambridge - Good to see that the notice “No
pies are left in this vehicle overnight”
has spread as far south as Cheshire
( Letters , 29 August). The sticker
started years ago and still is common
in the pie centre of the world, Wigan.
Ian Winstanley
Wigan
Established 1906Country diary
Stourport-on-Severn,
Worce s ter shire
Fine art of using a
camera in a gallery
You really got me
now, Guardian
I returned from Paris on Saturday
and was very pleased to fi nd the
correspondence in the Guardian
( Letters , 24 August) about switching
off the phone in art galleries. I visited
the Louvre last Friday and foolishly
joined the queue to see the Mona
Lisa. The queue was well-managed
and I reached the hallowed subject
in 30 minutes. There were signs that
said “no camera ” and “no fl ash ”.
These were completely ignored
and there was a forest of phones.
The security staff appeared to have
completely given up.
If anyone in authority at the
Louvre reads this letter, please
implement the no-camera policy
in an eff ective way or introduce
“no-camera ” sessions.
Sally Lynes
London
- I was at the Van Gogh exhibition
too ( Opinion , 22 August), but I
wasn’t getting annoyed by all the
photography going on around me.
On the contrary, I felt it enhanced
the lively, celebratory atmosphere I
was enjoying so much, and I could
get up close and personal with the
pictures so long as I waited a little
while for folk to move on. But I sensed
from the tone of some of the other
correspondents that perhaps patience
isn’t one of their strong points. And
was I the only one reading those
letters to get a strong sense of that
uniquely angry intellectual snobbery
peculiar to the English liberal left?
They did get me wondering though
what Vincent would have made of
it all. I like to think he would have
enjoyed the bustling, egalitarian
shebang as much as I did.
Mel Shewan
Edinburgh- I am in awe of the clever people
who can retain the images of the
often very large exhibitions I visit.
I just don’t have that kind of visual
memory, and can’t aff ord £25 for
a catalogue, especially if I have to
pay for entry. I have only recently
[email protected]
@guardianlettersTwitter: @gdncountrydiary
ILLUSTRATION: CLIFFORD HARPERCorrections and
clarifi cationsbeen introduced to the mysteries of
the smart phone by my grandson,
and although I have no intention
of taking selfi es in front of Starry
Night , just by reviewing my photos
on the bus home I’ve fi xed them in
my mind. I’ve also been able to share
these images with interested family
members and friends, and take part
in conversations. I’m grateful for
the opportunity to take photos at
exhibitions – the problem for me is
people wearing headphones who
hog the space in front of art works.
Lesley Fox
London- I spotted a person taking the perfect
photo of L’Étoile by Degas on a fridge
magnet in a Paris gift shop. Surely
the ultimate simulacrum?
Dr Karen Postle
Titchfi eld, Hampshire - Overheard in the Uffi zi Gallery :
“Oh for God’s sake, George; if you’re
going to stop and look at everything,
we’ll never get round!”
Jimmy Hibbert
Manchester
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