I had not expected any work from Bilborough this week but a day and a half have already materialised. Monday provided an opportunity to share with a class my enthusiasm for 'Wise Children'. Strangely I was alone; maybe it is a generation thing. I was gripped straightway, on first reading, by all the familiar references to old songs, by the way the story chimed with my own fragmentary experience of an entertainment 'career' as well as memories of the Palace Theatre at Westcliff and the Pier Pavilion. Max Miller and the British Empire have no resonance with 16 year olds.
I felt quite confident at Monday's tango lesson; not because my repertoire of moves is multiplying; it is not, the increments are slow. I really am beginning to lead with the 'heart'; I keep my right hand 'proud' of my partner's shoulderblade and am never now tempted to try and steer with arm pressure.
There is an open few days ahead which must not be dissipated. Guitar, UWDC marketing, the Jesus chapter, recruiting of pupils; all must be advanced, so I'll cease blogging and head for Arnold both for shopping and card distribution.
2 comments:
I am sorry to contradict you, but Max's jokes still raise a smile with most people today.
Maybe it's the way you tell 'em?
Rowland Nelken wrote in reply to anonymous of 10 Jan.:
I got a good laugh from the 'Cockfoster's' joke. My pause before 'No, darling, it's mine' must have been just right.
Respecting 'resonance with teens'
I was referring to the fact that the description in the book of the 'Rudest Man in England' would not have evoked 'Max Miller' to young people, any more than would 'Now here's a funny thing' a phrase that is'hidden' in the narrative.
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