@The Pentacle Queen,
Quote:(Although none of this criticism is actually too constructive, spends).
Nothing ever is Queenie to those who already know what constructive means.
Remember Milton's Delilah who--
Quote:With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,
Sails fill'd, and streamers waving. . .
arrived.
Those are lines which Graham Greene said he was reminded of in Congreve's comments on Millimant in
The Way of the World as she arrived to lay down her conditions for marriage. A common theme in those days.
We might assume you will one day be a married woman. I have known a large number of married women, a few more than the rest. I saw one wrestle with her conscience in seclusion in a posh hotel in the Lake District and ranging over the fells in solitary walks as to which of two suitors to accept. Her choice fell to the safer one and the protestations of love at the ceremony were pitiable to witness.
Settling for a big dong and money is all very well but gentlemen with such assets are not readily amenable to disciplined rectitude and the alternative was an officer on the QE2 which was a luxuriously appointed ship that normally cruised the warmer oceans containing a larger proportion of rich American widows and divorcees than is to be found in most parts of America leaving aside the dotage departments.
So the streamers are waving. Or will be at the graduation ceremony I suppose what with the rituals, which, of course, derive from religious practices as well they might as seeing as how they are there to persuade us all into believing, possibly against our better judgement, that you are a right, little genius. A mortarboad, not one for plastering rooms, with a tassle on top which signifies I know not what, (suggestions please), resting upon a sort of cowl to hide your lovely locks and a gown in black. We want no unruly thoughts. A DVD of the proceedings (£9.99), only the provincial institutions still use Betamax, and an illuminated scroll to prove you are a right little genius which you should present without delay to someone with pull at Sky Television. You can all clap each other and beam with self-satisfaction and that will give you confidence that you are actually a right, little genius. Which well you may be but it would take more than an illuminated scroll to convince me despite some of the others seemingly having lower standards than myself or, which I hope isn't the case, enjoy giving you a good old patronising butter bath for want of something to post when inspiration has failed them.
Now you have to be careful right there. Us believing it is one thing. We can turn it off. You doing is another. Such beliefs can blow your head off. Render you inartistic I mean. And thus contradict the illuminated scroll.
It doesn't fill the sails though. What does that is the wind blowing when you get back to the street after the do has slowly fizzled out and you have thanked your tutors for transforming you from a dizzy gump, from that place with the nice sounding name which I can't remember, into a first class honours degree graduate, signed, sealed and delivered and ready to repay our investment in you. Some of that investment is charged in the price of beer with which the sweating lads in the labour force who made it all possible quench their thirst after a 10 hour shift.
I take your bravery for granted considering the tales you have told us so there's only the tackle left to be trimmed.
And you are always arriving somewhere.