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I’ve been sick abed; ‘flu settled on my head and vitals and left me semi-conscious and dependent on a completely different category of drug from my normal usage. However the timing of paracetamol ingestion is important; of course the maximum dose will only work for four hours, and can only be taken every six hours; so, though I am now on the mend I have hazy memories of sepia-tinted two hours or so of painful sweats etc recurring every four hours.
If nothing else was to make me sympathise with the male gender, in all of its privileged carelessness and tendency to violence, it would be man ‘flu. That deficient “Y” chromosome really does leave those humans in possession of it susceptible to the various strains of influenza in a grander fashion - more dramatic even.
Laid up yesterday, alternating between sweating into the bedding and hugging warm wheatbags I listened to Rigoletto on Radio 3.
Not a fave, it must be said. Some great arias, and some great music but... however, that central theme of the injustice of princes still rings true; whatever sphere of human endeavour those princes operate in.
Which brings me naturally to Harvey Weinstein. I wonder what would have happened if he had tried it on with a lass who had a black belt and the means to enforce her “No”? Adam’s apple, solar plexus, groin, shins then eyes. Even a bear can’t defend all of that. I’m making damn sure my kids can defend themselves completely in personal situations. Weapons training is another matter; they’ll need to enrol in the Cadets to get that. Weapons training needs rigorous structure, and proper discipline and oversight. I suppose I’ll have to encourage them both to learn the noble weapons; but in this modern world is there really much point to an épée? Or does one gain an edge from knowing each end of a sabre?
These are now irrelevancies in our modern age; it may not always be so - many writers of speculative fiction have given us scenarios where those old-fashioned weapons have acquired a new lease of life. But valorising the elegance of killing may be something we are finally growing out of. Even though as a culture we begin with Homer and slaughter and war (with bits of Gilgamesh and other epics as prototypes) we eventually get to, and beyond, Austen. Nevertheless even Austen references duelling quite a bit.
Almost all of our narratives give heroes the ability and licence to use extreme violence; it’s not just Achilles or Cuchulainn who can carve the opposition by the hundred, and leave piles of limbs stacked behind them. I’d rather re-read Austen or Wodehouse, where the heroes and villians, such as they are, are much more understandable to someone who doesn’t actually like violence that much.
I shall now return to my somewhat attenuated (and slowly recovering) delirium. As you were.
If nothing else was to make me sympathise with the male gender, in all of its privileged carelessness and tendency to violence, it would be man ‘flu. That deficient “Y” chromosome really does leave those humans in possession of it susceptible to the various strains of influenza in a grander fashion - more dramatic even.
Laid up yesterday, alternating between sweating into the bedding and hugging warm wheatbags I listened to Rigoletto on Radio 3.
Not a fave, it must be said. Some great arias, and some great music but... however, that central theme of the injustice of princes still rings true; whatever sphere of human endeavour those princes operate in.
Which brings me naturally to Harvey Weinstein. I wonder what would have happened if he had tried it on with a lass who had a black belt and the means to enforce her “No”? Adam’s apple, solar plexus, groin, shins then eyes. Even a bear can’t defend all of that. I’m making damn sure my kids can defend themselves completely in personal situations. Weapons training is another matter; they’ll need to enrol in the Cadets to get that. Weapons training needs rigorous structure, and proper discipline and oversight. I suppose I’ll have to encourage them both to learn the noble weapons; but in this modern world is there really much point to an épée? Or does one gain an edge from knowing each end of a sabre?
These are now irrelevancies in our modern age; it may not always be so - many writers of speculative fiction have given us scenarios where those old-fashioned weapons have acquired a new lease of life. But valorising the elegance of killing may be something we are finally growing out of. Even though as a culture we begin with Homer and slaughter and war (with bits of Gilgamesh and other epics as prototypes) we eventually get to, and beyond, Austen. Nevertheless even Austen references duelling quite a bit.
Almost all of our narratives give heroes the ability and licence to use extreme violence; it’s not just Achilles or Cuchulainn who can carve the opposition by the hundred, and leave piles of limbs stacked behind them. I’d rather re-read Austen or Wodehouse, where the heroes and villians, such as they are, are much more understandable to someone who doesn’t actually like violence that much.
I shall now return to my somewhat attenuated (and slowly recovering) delirium. As you were.
