Tuesday 23rd April

 St George's Day

Not your usual telling of the story.....

St George and the Dragon - Paolo Ucello - National Gallery London

Not my Best Side - U. A. Fanthorpe

I

Not my best side, I'm afraid.
The artist didn't give me a chance to
Pose properly, and as you can see,
Poor chap, he had this obsession with
Triangles, so he left off two of my
Feet. I didn't comment at the time
(What, after all, are two feet
To a monster?) but afterwards
I was sorry for the bad publicity.
Why, I said to myself, should my conqueror
Be so ostentatiously beardless, and ride
A horse with a deformed neck and square hoofs?
Why should my victim be so
Unattractive as to be inedible,
And why should she have me literally
On a string? I don't mind dying
Ritually, since I always rise again,
But I should have liked a little more blood
To show they were taking me seriously.

II

It's hard for a girl to be sure if
She wants to be rescued. I mean, I quite
Took to the dragon. It's nice to be
Liked, if you know what I mean. He was
So nicely physical, with his claws
And lovely green skin, and that sexy tail,
And the way he looked at me,
He made me feel he was all ready to
Eat me. And any girl enjoys that.
So when this boy turned up, wearing machinery,
On a really dangerous horse, to be honest
I didn't much fancy him. I mean,
What was he like underneath the hardware?
He might have acne, blackheads or even
Bad breath for all I could tell, but the dragon--
Well, you could see all his equipment
At a glance. Still, what could I do?
The dragon got himself beaten by the boy,
And a girl's got to think of her future.

III

I have diplomas in Dragon
Management and Virgin Reclamation.
My horse is the latest model, with
Automatic transmission and built-in
Obsolescence. My spear is custom-built,
And my prototype armour
Still on the secret list. You can't
Do better than me at the moment.
I'm qualified and equipped to the
Eyebrow. So why be difficult?
Don't you want to be killed and/or rescued
In the most contemporary way? Don't
You want to carry out the roles
That sociology and myth have designed for you?
Don't you realize that, by being choosy,
You are endangering job prospects
In the spear- and horse-building industries?
What, in any case, does it matter what
You want? You're in my way.

It was after reading this that I bought a book of U A Fanthorpe poems - they are fabulous.

Monday 22nd April

 A new week begins...

I am sitting here looking at the hearth rug with great pleasure. It us completely clear of Stuff, for the first tine since Christmas. The final bit of sorting in the hall was done at a great rate while lunch was cooking. Two crates, both empty and stacked one inside the other so that was the easy bit, and the few bits and bobs on top were sorted and rehomed (bin, cupboard, recycling,  charity shop pile). Now my father’s wheel chair is in the hall, his spare rollator is stashed in the boot of the car, and we have won another victory over the clutter.

I've given the first piano lesson of the term to a student who passed her Grade 7 last term with a merit. That's quite an achievement, especially only having zoom lessons. I am so looking forward to sharing two of my favourite pieces with her. I introduced them in the lesson and to my joy she likes them both.

I've been playing them for over 50 years; here they are;

Rumores de la caleta by Albeniz

Gymnopedie no 1 by Satie

Sunday 21st April

 I am so used to knitting or sewing while following our Sunday service on livestream that I'm sure I would be lost if I couldn't take some along if I was there in person. 

Anyway I finished the baby sock during the reading and sermon (the wedding in Cana, John's gospel, see I was listening properly as well).

In the afternoon I got into the garden for a very short while, but it was really too cold. I  came back in, and tackled a Very Large Storage Crate, half again as this one (which is next)

The papers were stored in six or seven of these, crammed full of

Daughter's school and uni notebooks and BB's jobsearch papers from a Very Long Time Ago. It's been sorted into 'recycle' or 'bin', and the crate has gone upstairs for reuse. That's about 2 square feet of floor space freed up in the hall; excellent!

Christmas Cards?

Yes indeed. I'm beginning the purge of the dining room table; this is the final task relating to the Christmas card list. I want to write a short note in reply to the notes inside these cards now, rather than waiting until next Christmas.  

The Countryfile weather report said that tonight would be 'perilously close to freezing ' so BB kindly went out and put a cloche over the tiny weeny peas just showing green above the earth.