Stan and Mary go out looking through other people’s windows

5626469_f260
After dinner Mary and Stan  often went for a longish walk.They liked to go to a road where the richer people  of Britain lived.,where there were some Georgian houses and one Tudor house.
At dusk they would stroll by looking into the lighted windows to see how the rooms were decorated.And if the front garden was large sometimes they crept in to see more
One beautiful  house they liked from the outside was spoiled for Mary by the garish tartan wall paper.
What sort of people would live there, she asked Emile who was in her handbag.with his head peeping out
Well,they have a cat called Percy,he mewed softly.
Why Percy?It is a noble name from the British past of course,she answered…
Earls of Percy were involved in affairs of state.
Well.Percy is a  Chinese cat,Emile said to her wittily.
He ought to be called Hu Ar U then,Mary joked ,or tried to as her sense of humour was somewhat lacking or maybe just odd.Still she looked lovely despite her moth eaten clothes bought in Sales in colors nobody else wanted like purple and lilac and bottle green.
She and Stan crept slowly up the garden path and peered  nervously into the empty sitting room trying to identify the paintings on the walls.
All of a sudden, a woman who was completely naked came into the room and lay modishly on a sofa as if she were a trained  dancer.She was a sight for sore male eyes.
Are they about to have a drawing class,Stan whispered.
She must be a model for a Life Class or an abstract woman ,with cat ,if Percy gets into the frame,Mary mused
Percy might scratch her then.Stan muttered.She could scream.
Suddenly a loud voice was booming at them.
What the  bloody hell are you doing in my garden?
There stood a big man in plus fours and and an oversized red jumper with matching cheeks
We were admiring your wall paper,Mary said.I think it is very unusual.
He smiled in gratification.
I chose it,he cried.All by my self.
But why is there a nude lady on the sofa,Stan enquired.
I am so annoyed, the man told them.My fiancee likes to walk around nude but she forgets to draw the curtains first.
Does she want to make an exhibition of herself,Stan enquired hopefully.
We wondered if it was for a life class, you know,students learning to draw and become artists of note.
Well,that’s a good idea said Arthur thoughtfully.
The woman got up and came over.She opened the wondow.To their astonishment she was Annie,their neighbour and Stan’s mistress too.Stan might have known but he had kept his face immobile after years of practise.
Fancy seeing you here,Annie whispered creatively in her sweet little voice
I am trying to seduce Arthur but with no success so far  except a marriage proposal.
You need to be more discreet and indirect, said Stan.
If you act like this he will think you are an artist’s model and likely to be featured in the Tate Modern Annual Show of Infamy .Now, would a man like this marry or even sleep with such a woman as you appear to be walking around like Eve before she ate the apple?
I don’t know said Annie but my clothes are all in the tumble dryer,anyhow.
Did you wet yourself? Mary asked her kindly.It’s nothing to be ashamed of.We all do it now and then especially since public conveniences were shut down across the UK.And now ,even winter coats are machine washable.
Well,I knocked over some lemon barley water in a big jug and so I decided to wash all my clothes. while I was here as Arthur as a tumble dryer
That’s a  very strange tale Arthur told her.You look ravishing hanging out of the window with your nipples pointing up.Let me take a photo of
you.Say,Cheese
But will you put it on Twitter,Annie asked anxiously.
No,dear.I am not so cruel.Why don’t you get your clothes and make us all some tea .
I can’t make tea,she yelled and without pausing she dialledd 999.
What is it Fire or Ambulance the lady receptionist asked politely.
It’s a kettle.
Is it on fire?
No,it won’t boil.Can you send Dave the paramedic ,please, as he makes good tea.
We are quite busy so it may be  two hours or more she was told.
I thought this was an emergency service,Annie said.
But who defines what an emergency is? the lady asked her philosophically.
I will die without this tea,Annie informed her in a  ringing tone
Ok ,hang up and I will send the ambulance now.
Arthur seemed a little surprised
I have private medical insurance,he cried.But they don’t make tea not even for old people.
Well,in the UK tea has always been   essential to the  National  Health
But it will soon be drying up and we shall get flasks from the dustmen on Sundays instead.
I just don’t believe it,Arthur said and he then passed out on the rug which stood in front of a bookcase full of leather bound volumes of poetry.
Will he  live?Read more tomorrow and pay the price… af ew minutes of fun and gaiety.

My blog, is it suitable for anyone at all?

img_20180912_194342Sure, my blog is suitable for anyone to read,That is if they have actually  learned
Don’t you think you are showing off telling people what words mean?
Well,I didn’t know myself, that’s why I looked tbem up
Still you have managed to live your life without using them
But maybe it would have been a different life!
Like, what idiot put an empty kettle on the fire
Oh, it was me.I was in my mimetic mode trying to convey the pressure I am under in this hothouse place
Well, in future use diogesis
I am too nervous to tell my story so I just drop a few hints
If you don’t take that kettle off the fire your whole life will have been a hint
What do you mean?
Stop thinking and take the damn thing off
Do you mean my dress or the kettle?
I mean both!
It’s not very romantic to talk to me that way
Why don’t we  use the hot kettle to make some make believe tea and I will whisper in your ears while we mimetically drink it
OMG…. are you on the Spectrum.
Not yet but I am trying
You can say that again
Not yet but I am very trying
You can say that again

We seem to me in an infinite loop.Isn’t life wonderful

And that is the end of Women’s Hour for today

Mimesis… what a thesis!

37784126_1187718428034700_8515909718256910336_n

Mimesis is acting out rather than narrating.Is this why Freud wanted people to stop acting out their neurosis but construct a way of narrating it, that is making up your  life story  as a story that conveys better what your life has been and is.Linking together experiences and phantasies in a way that makes one feel it is a truer better  story than what we were partly acting out unconsciously

For a better story read below

From Britannica.com

Mimesis, basic theoretical principle in the creation of art. The word is Greek and means “imitation” (though in the sense of “re-presentation” rather than of “copying”). Platoand Aristotle spoke of mimesis as the re-presentation of nature. According to Plato, all artistic creation is a form  of imitation: that which really exists (in the “world of ideas”) is a type created by God; the concrete things man perceives in his existence are shadowy representations of this ideal type. Therefore, the painter, the tragedian, and the musician are imitators of an imitation, twice removed from the truth. Aristotle, speaking of tragedy, stressed the point that it was an “imitation of an action”—that of a man falling from a higher to a lower estate. Shakespeare, in Hamlet’s speech to the actors, referred to the purpose of playing as being “…to hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to nature.” Thus, an artist, by skillfully selecting and presenting his material, may purposefully seek to “imitate” the action of life.

He sang when high

You make me feel like a handout
Another hand out ? How many hands do you have
We have a food blank right now.Except for snails
Don’t keep me  inflating.I am no saloon

I make the blade gay which was no meaningless feat,I reassure you
If you want to make tracks, hire a wolf or even a pack of wolves on a zero hours contract
To rake waves won’t make anything grow in the sea.
If you make your mind improve ,who is doing the improving?
You must see it through
His eyes pierced me like darts with no handles

He makes my blood oil and sells it to the highest bladder
Making money is hard when you are pissed all day and kissed all night
She is making me go made withf rost
I chose a man for all the right pleasings
A blighter trades on whales

My man’s home is his battle.I am the field
God took out an order on me….I am tagged by daemons
Many hands make light work s; hire all the unemployedright and charge the national grid
He was not only unemployed but unenjoyed by anyone.
Why is self pleasure thought sinful?It is exercise,in a very feel sense
He was a larky sort of man.. he sang when high.

We have a hoover sort of love
Where have all the towers gone,gone to Grenfell,every one
When will we never burn?
A hundred years since the War to end all  laws
Apartheid is not wrong, it’#s just that tigers will eat us.
The country as a Zoo