Dumb and Numbar

This has clearly been one of my all-time favorite.

This film, produced in 1999, had a complete title of The Mysterious Yearning Secretive Sad Lonely Troubled Confused Loving Musical Gifted Intelligent Beautiful Tender Sensitive Haunted Passionate Talented Mr. Ripley.  It rightly covered most qualities found in the character Tom Ripley (starring Matt Damon).

In a well crafted but ultimately un-affecting adaptation of the 1955 novel by Patricia Highsmith, "The Talented Mr Ripley" features Matt Damon as Tom Ripley, a social maladroit who assumes the identity of playboy socialite Dickie Greenleaf (Jude Law).

He travels to Italy to persuade Dickie to chuck his life of sun, sex and jazz and return to New York; a mission generously funded by Greenleaf's despairing father (James Rebhorn).

But Ripley is seduced by Dickie's lifestyle - and everything else about him. A sexual desire is awakened that evolves into a compulsion to possess him entirely.

When Dickie tries to shake loose of his grip, Ripley panics and, in a shocking fit of violence, takes the life he yearns for.

From here, Ripley must preserve the fantasy of being Dickie Greenleaf while traversing Greenleaf's social circle. These include his fiancée Marge (a routinely demure Gwyneth Paltrow) and bloated blabbermouth, Freddie (Philip Seymour Hoffman).

But in a starry line-up it's Jude Law who commands most presence, playing the charmer so well that his absence in the latter half leaves a gaping void.

While Damon offers a focused portrayal of Ripley's spiritual demise, the script affords him little room to elicit sympathy. The strength of Highsmith's novel is that it draws on a universal need for love and acceptance, but Damon's Ripley disconnects with his audience early on.

Rather than appeal to our commonly held insecurities, Ripley's social awkwardness feels insidious from the outset. As the plot becomes more involved, his fears and insecurities resonate even less.

Consequently, the impact of Ripley's final realisation, and of the film in its entirety, is diminished.

"The Talented Mr Ripley" engages interest, but director Anthony Minghella rolls it to the finish in neutral, failing to achieve the grand scale promised by its sweeping visuals. It's as if, like Tom Ripley, the intrigue simply overtook him.

 

I think the greatest thing about this film is the character Tom Ripley is left to opinion and personal interpretation on so many levels. 

Out of my love for this film and the music that runs through the movie, I had to add this OST to my collection.

Director/screenwriter Anthony Minghella is a meticulous craftsman, known for his vigorous attention to every element of a production. In the case of The Talented Mr. Ripley, he lent particular focus to the film's music. In the novel, the gregarious American expatriate Dickie Greenleaf (played in the movie by Jude Law) was a painter. But Minghella made him a jazz enthusiast instead, contrasting Dickie's tastes with the classical inclinations of the enigmatic title character Tom Ripley (Matt Damon). The result is a film that gains much of its texture from its carefully chosen musical selections. The soundtrack opens with a pair of jazz numbers taken from two of the most fascinating scenes in the movie. In the first, Dickie takes Tom to an Italian jazz club, and both end up on stage exuberantly singing "Tu Vuo' Fa L'Americano." The song, performed on the CD by Damon, Law, Italian singer Fiorello and the Guy Barker International Quartet, establishes Ripley's captivation with his friend's hedonistic lifestyle. The second scene accomplishes the reverse: Dickie is captivated by the depth and sensitivity Ripley expresses in his evocative rendition of the Rodgers and Hart tune "My Funny Valentine." Again, Damon does his own singing on the soundtrack. The rest of the album intersperses several jazz tracks (including performances by Miles Davis, Charlie Parker, and Dizzy Gillespie) with excerpts from Gabriel Yared's Oscar nominated score. Yared's work captures perfectly both the sunlit Italian glamour and the muscle-tensing intrigue that characterize the film. Yared also wrote the music for the quietly disturbing Sinead O'Connor ballad, "Lullaby for Cain," that is played over the opening credits. The song, which features lyrics by Minghella himself, sets an appropriately ominous tone that effectively foreshadows the gruesome direction the film will eventually take. It is a solid contribution to a soundtrack album that is as carefully and thoughtfully constructed as the movie itself.

 

Artist: Sarah Harmer
Album: You Were Here
Released: August 29, 2000
Style:  Adult Alternative, Alternative Rock/Pop
AMG rating:

Formerly the driving force behind Weeping Tile, Canadian singer/songwriter Sarah Harmer began her solo career in 1999 playing dates with the Indigo Girls, Great Big Sea, and Moxy Fruvous. Harmer's first album outside of Weeping Tile was a tribute to her father titled Songs for Clem. Credited to Harmer and Jason Euringer, the folksy album was released independently by Harmer but was eventually given wider release by Universal Canada. Her proper debut album, You Were Here, was released in mid-2000 by Zoe Records and showed a polished, more mature side to her music than her work with her former band. It wasn't until 2004 that Harmer returned with a follow up, All of Our Names.

Sarah Harmer's first solo effort, You Were Here, doesn't allow a simple categorization of style or reveal a sweeping trend in progress. But it is certain that she is an artist choosing wisely from a great scope of colors. With a pleasing and misleading start, the rollicking opening track asserts its individuality with a Vaudevillian clarinet, keeping one foot in Kinks pop and one in some elusive species of country rock. The next track leaps into the present, utilizing rhythms that sound somewhat synthesized in the mode of David Gray. "The Hideout," having appeared also on a Starbucks coffeehouse compilation disc, has the feel of Neil Young circa Harvest, and becomes a powerful single with its heavy drum line, bold "fifths" chords, and strong chorus with a memorable hook. Moving on, the energy level quickly drops to a spare meditation, featuring vocal, guitar, subtle organ, and the dark psychology of the lyrics. This ebb and flow proves to be the experience throughout You Were Here. Songs may begin with a soft acoustic, then unfold assuredly toward their climax. Various instruments add character now and then, such as a muted trumpet or a harmonica, and the energy level can sway between a lullaby and full pop treatment with a definite destination. The music can also have a heavier edge, driven at times by a malcontent electric guitar. Throughout, the cello is a recurrent staple, as is Harmer's self-harmonized lead vocal. In conjunction with her sonorous, folky vibrato, the melodies are built of simplicity and sweetness, making it an easy album to latch onto. Produced by Harmer herself, along with Peter Prilesnik, You Were Here is keen to a number of musical influences. Her Canadian nationality notwithstanding, there is more than a whisper of Joni Mitchell or Ron Sexsmith in the music. Moments which might feel slow or meandering could likewise feel pensive, meditative, or gather interest from their potential to reveal something more. The lyrics are observational yet detached, and poetic without being arcane — the album as a whole feels sincere, answering to a variety of moods and whims. It is a work of quality, from the songwriting clear to the production.

Track Listings:

1  Around This Corner
2  Basement Apt  
3  The Hideout 
4  Capsized
5  Lodestar 
6  Weakened State 
7  Don't Get Your Back Up
8  Open Windows 
9  Uniform Grey   
10  Coffee Stain   
11  You Were Here  
12  Everytime  

来自澳大利亚的乐队。
风格：folk-rock

乐队首张专辑：



Sink or Swim

Track Listings:

       1  The Waitress  
       2  Lies  
       3  Danger
       4  Without You
       5  The Haircut  
       6  Love Serenade
       7  Taken  
       8  Service Fee
       9  A Breif History
       10  When I Die  
       11  Sink or Swim

Released on September 17, 2002
Style: Alternative Rock/Pop, Adult
AMG Rating: four stars



Track Listings:

1. Wagers
2. Gone Too Far
3. After The Prince And The Showgirl
4. All Because You Told Me So
5. Thundercats
6. Snake Eyes
7. Stealing Home
8. John 2 14
9. Reseda Casino
10. Ten Minutes   
11. Queen Sized Tomb
12. Flycatcher  

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Cowboy Junkies

[Texts from Allmusic]

Although it didn't originally have anything to do with their sound, the Cowboy Junkies' name wound up seeming pretty accurate: their music was grounded in traditional country, blues, and folk, yet drifted along in a sleepy, narcotic haze that clearly bore the stamp of the Velvet Underground. The vast majority of their songs were spare and quiet, taken at lethargic tempos and filled with languid guitars and detached, ethereal vocals courtesy of Margo Timmins. Over the late '80s and '90s, the group recorded a succession of critically acclaimed albums that found favor in the alternative rock community.

The Cowboy Junkies were founded by guitarist/songwriter Michael Timmins and bassist Alan Anton (born Alan Alizojvodic), who first played together in a Toronto-based band called the Hunger Project in 1979. They later moved to the U.K. and played with an avant-garde instrumental outfit called Germinal, but eventually grew weary of the group's style and returned to Toronto in 1984. They started jamming with Timmins' brother, Peter, on drums, and in 1985 they recruited a vocalist in sister Margo, at the time a social worker who'd never sung publicly before. Dubbing themselves the Cowboy Junkies simply because the name had a ring to it, they formed their own independent label, Lament, and released their debut album, Whites off Earth Now!!, in 1986. Featuring only one original song, the album was recorded using only one microphone, and although it was initially available only in Canada, it helped them land a major-label deal with RCA. Their first widespread release was 1988's The Trinity Session, which was recorded inside Toronto's Holy Trinity church in the span of one night — again using only one microphone. The Trinity Session became a cult hit, earning rave reviews from critics and substantial college-radio airplay for tracks like "Misguided Angel" and their cover of "Sweet Jane."

Now an underground sensation, the Cowboy Junkies decided to concentrate more on Michael Timmins' original material for the bigger-budget follow-up, 1989's The Caution Horses. The album didn't cause quite as much of a stir, although it helped maintain their cult fan base. 1992's even more countrified Black-Eyed Man found Timmins settling more comfortably into his songwriting voice, which set the stage for 1993's Pale Sun, Crescent Moon. Hailed as their finest effort since The Trinity Session, the record bore more influence from rock and blues, and returned the Junkies to critics'-darling status. However, it also proved to be their final album of new material for RCA. As the band left for Geffen, RCA issued the two-disc live compilation 200 More Miles and the best-of Studio. Meanwhile, the Junkies debuted for Geffen in 1996 with Lay It Down, a relatively high-volume effort compared to their shimmering early work. Following 1998's Miles From Our Home, the group parted ways with Geffen and revived their own Latent label. Their first release was the 2000 live album Waltz Across America, which was initially available only through the band's website. They followed it a year later with an album of all-new material, Open. One Soul Now followed in 2004 and Open Road in 2005.

1988 The Trinity Session

1992 Black Eyed Man

1993 Pale Sun, Crescent Moon

1998 Miles From Our Home

2001 The Best of Cowboy Junkies

2004 One Soul Now

2005 Open Road

Few people know this album ever existed.  The finely-produced music in it shows the elegance of the movie.

Princess Diaries Original Score:

Composed by: John Debney

Track Listings:

1. Main Titles  
2. Queen Clarisse  
3. Mia Invites Lily to the Ball
4. Princess Diaries Waltz  
5. Mia's Makeover
6. Princess Lessons  
7. New Mia
8. Mia Flees
9. Sorry, Dad  
10. Lana, the Traitor  
11. Mia Visits the Consulate
12. Scooter Talk  
13. I Don't Want to Be a Princess  
14. Father Talk  
15. Ball  
16. Meeting the Prime Minister  
17. Letter from the King
18. It's a Real Job
19. Mia's Decision
20. Learning to Walk  

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Crime Scene Investigation OST

Track Listings:

1. Who Are You - The Who
2. Everybody Out of the Water (New Frontier) - The Wallflowers
3. Crystal - New Order
4. Come Into Our Room - Clinic  
5. Give It Away - Zero 7  
6. Day By Day - Badmarsh & Shri
7. Inhaler - Hooverphonic
8. We Luv You - Grand Theft Audio
9. Hell Above Water - Curve  
10. To Get Down [Fatboy Slim Mix] - Timo Maas
11. Time Has Come Today - The Chambers Brothers
12. Little Gem - Euphoria  
13. Song for Olabi - Bliss
14. Unbound - Robbie Robertson   
15. Investigation Suite - John M. Keane  
16. Grissom's Overture - John M. Keane

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I was asked to translate the lyrics into Chinese. 

The Will To Win

By Eddie Reynolds in 2004
I See Music.

Intro:
When you have the will to win
You will find the skill to win
And you know it's such a thrill to win
But don't you forget

Chorus 1
The will to win – must come from within (your soul)
The will to win – that's where you begin
To make your plan – to reach your goal

Verse 1
Life can be just like a mountain,
Sometimes very hard to get on top,
You're way, way down – but you got to get up there
You can't go back down – you can't stop,
We've all got our trials and tribulations
But we've got our lives to fulfill,
You've got to have faith – and you'll find your strength
You'll get the power – when you've got the will

Chorus 2
The will to win – must come from within (your soul)
The will to win – that's where you begin
So make your plan – to reach your goal

Verse 2
And sometimes life is like an ocean
Very deep and oh so wide,
You're way out there and you're all alone
You've got to sail home on the tide,
The good lord helps to calm the waters
Like he helps the wind to turn the mill
You will discover that you're not alone
You've got a friend when you've got the will

Repeat Chorus 2  Intro  and  Chorus 2 again.

---

It's not an easy job to keep the rhyme.. Anyway, here's my translation (still needs some serious polishing):

求胜之意

前奏：
你如有取胜之意，
就必有获胜之技。
虽深知胜之快意，
你仍需用心铭记：

合唱部1：
求胜之意必须发自你的内心（灵魂），
求胜之意带你踏上胜利之行，
用心设计，朝着目标努力。

独唱部：
生活恰如登山之行，
有时难至峰顶。
你才爬了很低，
但你必须前行，
不能回头而去，
不能止步不移。
我们一样经历艰辛和磨砺，
正因如此生活才更有意义。
胸中怀有信念，
必能找到气力；
抱定取胜之心，
就有向上动力。

合唱部2：
求胜之意必须发自你的内心（灵魂），
求胜之意带你踏上胜利之行，
用心设计，朝着目标努力。

独唱部：
生活又似跨洋远行，
水至深，望无际。
船已驶至洋心，
而你一人单骑。
你决意乘浪归去，
神助你一臂之力：
让大浪平息，
就像他让风转磨移。
你这才想起，
自己并非茕茕而立
只要意志坚定
就能结成友谊。

合唱部2、前奏和合唱部2重复一次

It is always interesting to note how things may or may not change over time.  Just like music, we now have a much wider range of choices as far as the composing, performing and recording of music is concerned.  However, each tune can still be broken into basic musical notes which have long been in use.  And people living in modern times still feel touched by the music their forefathers used to listen to.
In the instance of football, initially it was merely a game played and loved by ordinary working class people.  Early football players, who played simply for fun rather for fame, were paid and treated just like anybody else.  It is however no longer the case.  Most well-known footballers of today are paid beyond reason and treated as cult figures.  As for the unknown ones, their zest for football is more often than not tainted by their pursuit of fame.  One may not be entirely clear about when and how the game of football gained the stardom and influence it now enjoys, but he may wonder why.  One reason probably relates to the commercialization of the football game.  Behind each successful football player there is a club, which makes the player rich and famous as long as he proves worthwhile---being able to bring profits for the club.  For that purpose, not only does the club need to train its players properly, it also needs to idolize them by way of media or fashion, which in turn will take more money out of the fans' pockets.  In this regard, David Beckham is undoubtedly the most telling example.  He's the man you may find both qualities in, the quality as a football player (though some people still have reservations about this) and that of a fashion icon.  The way he dresses and wears his hair is immediately copied by millions of young people worldwide.  One can even find out in newspapers and magazines details about his private life, especially after his marriage to the former Spice Girl.  There are toys, video games and wax sculptures made using him as a prototype.  His name appears in a film called "Bend it like Beckham".  There's even talk of comparing him to the royal family in the Great Britain.
So much for changes, still some things remain unchanged, that is, people's fondness for the game of football.  People nowadays are no less charmed by football as they were 10 or 20 years ago.  They still find fun, entertainment, excitement or satisfaction in winning or simply watching a football game.  It is precisely this love and affection that has kept football alive.

Our beloved teacher Bernie read us this short piece in Dublin with her lovely Gaelic accent.

She's a very very very kind and affectionate mother figure.  We shared a lot of laughter in pubs, passing Galway and in many other things and places.

She loves Mary Black and Eva Cassidy.

by Frank O'Connor

All the trouble began when my grandfather died and my grand-mother - my father's mother - came to live with us. Relations in the one house are a strain at the best of times, but, to make matters worse, my grandmother was a real old countrywoman and quite unsuited to the life in town. She had a fat, wrinkled old face, and, to Mother's great indignation, went round the house in bare feet-the boots had her crippled, she said. For dinner she had a jug of porter and a pot of potatoes with-some-times-a bit of salt fish, and she poured out the potatoes on the table and ate them slowly, with great relish, using her fingers by way of a fork.

Now, girls are supposed to be fastidious, but I was the one who suffered most from this. Nora, my sister, just sucked up to the old woman for the penny she got every Friday out of the old-age pension, a thing I could not do. I was too honest, that was my trouble; and when I was playing with Bill Connell, the sergeant-major's son, and saw my grandmother steering up the path with the jug of porter sticking out from beneath her shawl, I was mortified. I made excuses not to let him come into the house, because I could never be sure what she would be up to when we went in.

When Mother was at work and my grandmother made the dinner I wouldn't touch it. Nora once tried to make me, but I hid under the table from her and took the bread-knife with me for protection. Nora let on to be very indignant (she wasn't, of course, but she knew Mother saw through her, so she sided with Gran) and came after me. I lashed out at her with the bread-knife, and after that she left me alone. I stayed there till Mother came in from work and made my dinner, but when Father came in later, Nora said in a shocked voice: "Oh, Dadda, do you know what Jackie did at dinnertime?" Then, of course, it all came out; Father gave me a flaking; Mother interfered, and for days after that he didn't speak to me and Mother barely spoke to Nora.And all because of that old woman ! God knows, I was heart-scalded. Then, to crown my misfortunes, I had to make my first confession and communion. It was an old woman called Ryan who prepared us for these. She was about the one age with Gran; she was well-to-do, lived in a big house on Montenotte, wore a black cloak and bonnet, and came every day to school at three o'clock when we should have been going home, and talked to us of hell. She may have mentioned the other place as well, but that could only have been by accident, for hell had the first place in her heart.

She lit a candle, took out a new half-crown, and offered it to the first boy who would hold one finger, only one finger! - in the flame for five minutes by the school clock. Being always very ambitious I was tempted to volunteer, but I thought it might look greedy. Then she asked were we afraid of holding one finger-only one finger! - in a little candle flame for five minutes and not afraid of burning all over in roasting hot furnaces for all eternity. "All eternity! Just think of that! A whole lifetime goes by and it's nothing, not even a drop in the ocean of your sufferings." The woman was really interesting about hell, but my attention was all fixed on the half-crown. At the end of the lesson she put it back in her purse. It was a great disappointment; a religious woman like that, you wouldn't think she'd bother about a thing like a half-crown.

Another day she said she knew a priest who woke one night to find a felllow he didn't recognise leaning over the end of his bed. The priest was a bit frightened, naturally enough but he asked the fellow what he wanted, and the fellow said in a deep, husky voice that he wanted to go to confession. The priest said it was an awkward time and wouldn't it do in the morning, but the fellow said that last time he went to confession, there was one sin he kept back, being ashamed to mention it, and now it was always on his mind. Then the priest knew it was a bad case, because the fellow was after making a bad confession and committing a mortal sin. He got up to dress, and just then the cock crew in the yard outside, and lo and behold! - when the priest looked round there was no sign of the fellow, only a smell of burning timber, and when the priest looked at his bed didn't he see the print of two hands burned in it? That was because the fellow had made a bad confession. This story made a shocking impression on me.

But the worst of all was when she showed us how to examine our conscience. Did we take the name of the Lord, our God, in vain? Did we honour our father and our mother? (I asked her did this include grandmothers and she said it did.) Did we love our neighbours as ourselves? Did we covet our neighbour 5 goods? (I thought of the way I felt about the penny that Nora got every Friday.) I decided that, between one thing and another, I must have broken the whole ten commandments, all on account of that old woman, and so far as I could see, so long as she remained in the house, I had no hope of ever doing anything else.

I was scared to death of confession. The day the whole class went, I let on to have a toothache, hoping my absence wouldn't be noticed, but at three o'clock, just as I was feeling safe, along comes a chap with a message from Mrs. Ryan that I was to go to confession myself on Saturday and be at the chapel for communion with the rest. To make it worse, Mother couldn't come with me and sent Nora instead.

Now, that girl had ways of tormenting me that Mother never knew of. She held my hand as we went down the hill, smiling sadly and saying how sorry she was for me, as if she were bringing me to the hospital for an operation.

"Oh, God help us!" she moaned. "Isn't it a terrible pity you weren't a good boy? Oh, Jackie, my heart bleeds for you! How will you ever think of all your sins? Don't forget you have to tell him about the time you kicked Gran on the shin."

Lemme go! " I said, trying to drag myself free of her. " I don't want to go to confession at all."

But sure, you'll have to go to confession, Jackie! she replied in the same regretful tone. "Sure, if you didn't, the parish priest would be up to the house, looking for you. 'Tisn't, God knows, that I'm not sorry for you. Do you remember the time you tried to kill me with the bread-knife under the table? And the language you used to me? I don't know what he'll do with you at all, Jackie. He might have to send you up to the bishop."

I remember thinking bitterly that she didn't know the half of what I had to tell-if I told it. I knew I couldn't tell it, and understood perfectly why the fellow in Mrs. Ryan's story made a

bad confession; it seemed to me a great shame that people wouldn't stop criticising him. I remember that steep hill down to the church, and the sunlit hillsides beyond the valley of the river, which I saw in the gaps between the houses like Adam's last glimpse of Paradise.

Then, when she had manoeuvred me down the long flight of steps to the chapel yard, Nora suddenly changed her tone. She became the raging malicious devil she really was.

"There you are ! "she said with a yelp of triumph, hurling me through the church door. "And I hope he'll give you the penitential psalms, you dirty little caffler."

I knew then I was lost, given up to eternal justice. The door with the coloured-glass panels swung shut behind me, the sunlight went out and gave place to deep shadow, and the wind whistled outside so that the silence within seemed to crackle like ice under my feet. Nora sat in front of me by the confession box. There were a couple of old women ahead of her, and then a miserable-looking poor devil came and wedged me in at the other side, so that I couldn't escape even if I had the courage. He joined his hands and rolled his eyes in the direction of the roof, muttering aspirations in an anguished tone, and I wondered had he a grandmother too. Only a grandmother could account for a fellow behaving in that heartbroken way, but he was better off than I, for he at least could go and confess his sins; while I would make a bad confession and then die in the night and be continually coming back and burning people's furniture.

Nora's turn came, and I heard the sound of something slamming, and then her voice as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, and then another slam, and out she came. God, the hypocrisy of women! Her eyes were lowered, her head was bowed, and her hands were joined very low down on her stomach, and she walked up the aisle to the side altar looking like a saint. You never saw such an exhibition of devotion; and I remembered the devilish malice with which she had tormented me all the way from our door, and wondered were all religious people like that, really. It was my turn now. With the fear of damnation in my soul I went in, and the confessional door closed of itself behind me. It was pitch-dark and I couldn't see priest or anything else. Then I really began to be frightened. In the darkness it was a matter between God and me, and He had all the odds. He knew what my intentions were before I even started; I had no chance. All I had ever been told about confession got mixed up in my mind, and I knelt to one wall and said: "Bless me, father, for I have sinned; this is my first confession." I waited for a few minutes, but nothing happened, so I tried it on the other wall. Nothing happened there either. He had me spotted all right.

It must have been then that I noticed the shelf at about one height with my head. It was really a place for grown-up people to rest their elbows, but in my distracted state I thought it was probably the place you were supposed to kneel. Of course, it was on the high side and not very deep, but I was always good at climbing and managed to get up all right. Staying up was the trouble. There was room only for my knees, and nothing you could get a grip on but a sort of wooden moulding a bit above it. I held on to the moulding and repeated the words a little louder, and this time something happened all right. A slide was slammed back; a little light entered the box, and a man's voice said "Who's there?"

"Tis me, father," I said for fear he mightn't see me and go away again. I couldn't see him at all. The place the voice came from was under the moulding, about level with my knees, so I took a good grip of the moulding and swung myself down till I saw the astonished face of a young priest looking up at me. He had to put his head on one side to see me, and I had to put mine on one side to see him, so we were more or less talking to one another upside-down. It struck me as a queer way of hearing confessions, but I didn't feel it my place to criticise.

"Bless me, father, for I have sinned ; this is my first confession" I rattled off all in one breath, and swung myself down the least shade more to make it easier for him.

"What are you doing up there?" he shouted in an angry voice, and the strain the politeness was putting on my hold of the moulding, and the shock of being addressed in such an uncivil tone, were too much for me. I lost my grip, tumbled, and hit the door an unmerciful wallop before I found myself flat on my back in the middle of the aisle. The people who had been waiting stood up with their mouths open. The priest opened the door of the middle box and came out, pushing his biretta back from his forehead; he looked something terrible. Then Nora came scampering down the aisle.

"Oh, you dirty little caffler! "she said. "I might have known you'd do it. I might have known you'd disgrace me. I can't leave you out of my sight for one minute."

Before I could even get to my feet to defend myself she bent down and gave me a clip across the ear. This reminded me that I was so stunned I had even forgotten to cry, so that people might think I wasn't hurt at all, when in fact I was probably maimed for life. I gave a roar out of me.

"What's all this about? "the priest hissed, getting angrier than ever and pushing Nora off me. "How dare you hit the child like that, you little vixen?"

"But I can't do my penance with him, father," Nora cried, cocking an outraged eye up at him.

"Well, go and do it, or I'll give you some more to do," he said, giving me a hand up. "Was it coming to confession you were, my poor man?" he asked me.

"'Twas, father," said I with a sob.

"Oh," he said respectfully, "a big hefty fellow like you must have terrible sins. Is this your first?"

'Tis, father," said I.

"Worse and worse," he said gloomily. "The crimes of a lifetime. I don't know will I get rid of you at all today. You'd better wait now till I'm finished with these old ones. You can see by the looks of them they haven't much to tell."

"I will, father," I said with something approaching joy.

The relief of it was really enormous. Nora stuck out her tongue at me from behind his back, but I couldn't even be bothered retorting. I knew from the very moment that man opened his mouth that he was intelligent above the ordinary. When I had time to think, I saw how right I was. It only stood to reason that a fellow confessing after seven years would have more to tell than people that went every week. The crimes of a lifetime, exactly as he said. It was only what he expected, and the rest was the cackle of old women and girls with their talk of hell, the bishop, and the penitential psalms. That was all they knew. I started to make my examination of conscience, and barring the one bad business of my grandmother, it didn't seem so bad.

The next time, the priest steered me into the confession box himself and left the shutter back, the way I could see him get in and sit down at the further side of the grille from me.

"Well, now," he said, "what do they call you?"

"Jackie, father," said I.

"And what's a-trouble to you, Jackie?"

Father," I said, feeling I might as well get it over while I had him in good humour, "I had it all arranged to kill my grandmother."

He seemed a bit shaken by that, all right, because he said nothing for quite a while.

"My goodness," he said at last, "that'd be a shocking thing to do. What put that into your head?"

Father," I said, feeling very sorry for myself, " she's an awful woman.

Is she? " he asked. " What way is she awful?

She takes porter, father," I said, knowing well from the way Mother talked of it that this was a mortal sin, and hoping it would make the priest take a more favourable view of my case.

"Oh, my ! " he said, and I could see he was impressed.

"And snuff, father," said I.

"That's a bad case, sure enough, Jackie," he said.

"And she goes round in her bare feet, father," I went on in a rush of self-pity, "and she knows I don't like her, and she gives pennies to Nora and none to me, and my da sides with her and flakes me, and one night I was so heart-scalded I made up my mind I'd have to kill her."

"And what would you do with the body? "he asked with great interest.

"I was thinking I could chop that up and carry it away in a barrow I have," I said.

"Begor, Jackie," he said, "do you know you're a terrible child?

"I know, father," I said, for I was just thinking the same thing myself. "I tried to kill Nora too with a bread-knife under the table, only I missed her."

Is that the little girl that was beating you just now?" he asked.

Tis, father."

"Someone will go for her with a bread-knife one day, and he won't miss her," he said rather cryptically. "You must have great courage. Between ourselves, there's a lot of people I'd like to do the same to, but I'd never have the nerve. Hanging is an awful death."

Is it, father? "I asked with the deepest interest-I was always very keen on hanging. "Did you ever see a fellow hanged?"

"Dozens of them," he said solemnly. "And they all died roaring."

"Jay ! " I said.

Oh, a horrible death ! " he said with great satisfaction.

"Lots of the fellows I saw killed their grandmothers too, but they all said 'twas never worth it."

He had me there for a full ten minutes talking, and then walked out the chapel yard with me. I was genuinely sorry to part with him, because he was the most entertaining character I'd ever met in the religious line. Outside, after the shadow of the church, the sunlight was like the roaring of waves on a beach; it dazzled me; and when the frozen silence melted and I heard the screech of trams on the road, my heart soared. I knew now I wouldn't die in the night and come back, leaving marks on my mother's furniture. It would be a great worry to her, and the poor soul had enough.

Nora was sitting on the railing, waiting for me, and she put on a very sour puss when she saw the priest with me. She was mad jealous because a priest had never come out of the church with her.

"Well," she asked coldly, after he left me, "what did he give you?"

"Three Hail Marys," I said.

"Three Hail Marys," she repeated incredulously. "You mustn't have told him anything."

"I told him everything," I said confidently.

"About Gran and all?"

"About Gran and all."

(All she wanted was to be able to go home and say I'd made a bad confession.)

"Did you tell him you went for me with the bread-knife?" she asked with a frown.

"I did to be sure."

"And he only gave you three Hail Marys?"

"That's all."

She slowly got down from the railing with a baffled air. Clearly, this was beyond her. As we mounted the steps back to the main road, she looked at me suspiciously.

"What are you sucking?" she asked. Bullseyes."

"Was it the priest gave them to you? 'Twas."

"Lord God," she wailed bitterly, "some people have all the luck! 'Tis no advantage to anybody trying to be good. I might just as well be a sinner like you."

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The First Confession