Tuesday 31 July 2018

House Party



“Me and Perran and Zac and Ella are going to dress up as ABBA,” announced Carenza, “For our house party. The theme’s going to be Pop.”
“Oh, that sounds fun,” I say, “When’s that going to be?”
“So we’re having a look at cheap platform boots.”

A week later and Perran is musing on the party.
“We could decorate the house as if it was under-water – I know this brilliant way of attaching streamers to umbrellas to make them look like jelly fish.”
“Great idea.  So when is this aquatic-themed Abba party going to be then?”
“Maybe not, though.  Better just to stick to the idea of Pop.”

Nigel says, “Perran and Carenza are really looking forward to this house party they’re having, aren’t they?”
“Yes, although I’m not sure when it is.  Do you know?”

It turns out that although both of us have asked, neither of us knows.
They are clearly worried that we will turn up and embarrass them.

The very idea. 
After all, it’s more than a decade ago since we traumatised them by leaving the house for an Eighties Party with Nigel dressed as “Frankie goes to Bricket Wood”.

Harumph.

I Whatsapp them: “Am ordering my white satin cat-suit and want to make sure it arrives on time.  When did you say your party was again?”
No reply.
“Your father’s Gary Glitter chest wig has arrived.  Could you please tell us the date of your party so we know if we need to extend the hire period.”
No reply.

Eventually, we wine them and dine them and the date just slips out.
On the evening of the party, I Whatsapp again:
“We should be with you by 6.25.  Hope that’s not too early, but we want to allow plenty of time for pre-loading.”
Then in the morning:
“We knocked for ever such a long time, but nobody let us in.  Perhaps the music was too loud?”

I turn to Nigel: “Oh well.  I’m not convinced a white satin cat suit would have looked good on me anyway.”




Sunday 22 July 2018

Love Island

"I can't believe you watch Love island" said Ann. And she's not the first. I guess because I'm a Latin teacher people think I'm high brow. 
And up to a point I am. 
Carenza who also watches Love Island says "It's vacuous and pointless but strangely fascinating "
But I think it's more than that. I think it has a timeless, epic quality.
Imagine "A Midsummer Night's Dream", but with an infinity pool.
ON ITV2, love is confusing and deluding and rewarding but so has it always been through the millennia.
And for me as a Classics teacher, the bronzed and fabulous beings on my screen recall the Greek gods. Never more than when they are duplicitous and steal a kiss behind their partner's back.
But the main way in which they differ is in their morality. 
The love islanders display a clear idea of good behaviour and morality. Mainly it is around being open about who you are pursuing and clearing the air if you tread on somebody's toes. 
The Greek gods indulged in prolonged deceit ( the affair of Ares and Aphrodite, even though she was married to Hephaestos). They had no interest in whether a woman consented or not ( out of many, many examples, Zeus and Europa, Apollo and Daphne). And women  would seek revenge on one another like Athena on Medusa, when it was all clearly the man's fault ( Poseidons). 
Nothing I have seen on this year's Love Island has touched this level of immorality.
Jack and Dani particularly, are the undisputed King and Queen (Zeus & Hera ) of the island, but none of the other bikini- clad beauties has turned Jack's head and the gracious Dani has no need to turn vengeful unlike poor Hera.
So which is a better example for our times? Love Island or Classics? 
I say Love Island.

Saturday 7 July 2018

....Like a newt needs a bicycle


I love my bike now.
I have pimped it with fake sunflowers and a large yellow Van Gogh bike bell. My kids bought me a bike helmet a bit like the cool gold one Mary Beard wears, but bronze.
The only bit I don't like is when I arrive back at my bike having bought a large bunch of lilies or a dozen eggs and think "Now how am I going to get THIS home?"
And that's exactly what happened last week when I ended up pedalling across town with two young newts in my bike basket.
Having lunch by Carole's pond, she confided that she had almost too many newts. Apparently they were annoying the frogs.
"How? Blowing tiny amphibian raspberries? Calling them slimy names?"
"No Clare. Eating the frogspawn."
Not put off by their uncouth behaviour, I mentioned that our brand new garden pond lacked newts.
Together we squatted down and set about pond-dabbing like six-year-olds.  At first we gathered only a bunch of slime.  But then two baby newts for me to take home.
Then I remembered I was on my bike.
I would like to report that the newts sat up  straight, peering alertly through the bars of the bike basket and enjoying the wind in their crests.
However Carole kindly provided a yoghurt tub to give them a safe journey home.
They  seemed none the worse for it as they swam off into our pond. However I think it's likely that the only cycle they'll be interested in in future is the newt life cycle.