I spent yesterday morning in front of the television, having switched it on quite early, something I never do normally. Once you know that something like yesterday's bombings have happened, the urge to keep on watching and finding out what is going on is impossible to resist. I despise the perpetrators for their actions, lacking in compassion, fixated with violence, ruthless and blinkered. They have learned well from past masters.
Yesterday evening, we went to an Arts Festival event. Twice before we have seen Hugh Lupton and Daniel Morden, storytellers who specialise in the tales of ancient Greece, so I was well aware of the treat to come. This time, they were retelling the Metamorphoses of Ovid, the tales framed, oh joy! with the story of Arachne. As they speak, the words begin to form mind pictures, until as well as hearing, you see. I really mean that - I don't know how it happens, but it does, for me at least. I can only surmise that the words that they use and the tone of their voices somehow primes the mind, but however it happens, it is pure magic, and very much what I needed. They reminded us of the clear-eyed way in which the Greeks regarded death as well as life, and the tales, not all of which I knew, reminded us of again, the essential truths of our existence.
And then, today, I had my regular class. Again, a reminder of what is good, although as usual, very hard work. I let them loose on dyepots, and they had a grand time.
Meanwhile, I was teaching a couple of beginners, which went quite well, and all around plenty of spinning was done.
Much honour was done to Arachne, and I suppose I should also say to avoid trouble, to owl-eyed Athene, too.
gw
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