I remember riding in that car
Through unknown Essex.Suffolk to the sea
Oh Aldeburgh,Dunswich, where we were
The fields invited love with yellow stars
Beguiling buttercups, and you and me
We got lost in Braintree in our car
Framlingham, we saw wild primrose there
Mary Tudor unimagined flees.
Ah, Aldeburgh, fishing boats and tar
History so poignant and bizarre
Bloody Mary’s heretics, the siege
They might have got away inside our car
Southwold Harbour, walking on the spur
Rowed acrosss the tidal river clear
Then Walberswick where Freud’s descendents smirk
As death came down was I the wife you chose
Your pretty one with cheeks of peach and rose?
My Wedding Dress , my eyes, my shining hair
Your flowered shirt, your eyes , your humour rare
A few weeks after Annie moved into the house next door to Stan,he met her when he was seeing his wife off to work.
Why does your wife not have a car? she enquired suspiciously.
She is trying to keep slim,Stan told her.
Well,she’s not been very successful,Annie said scientifically.
She might be much fatter than she is now if she drove a car,he stated ponderously
That’s true,muttered Annie meditatively
I am your new next door neighbor.she continued fluidly.
Yes my dear, said Stan,I have seen you sunbathing in the garden in your wide selection of bikinis.
How come? she asked scientifically.
There’s a big hole in the fence.
Is it legal to look at women through a hole in the fence?
I know it’s illegal to look into their bedroom windows.
Is it really,asked Stan nervously,I had no idea.
How about women looking at men through a round hole?
Oh,they would not bother to do that,she told him charmingly.We prefer imagination to concrete reality.
Well,said Stan,clearing his throat,I think I owe it to myself to tell you that I love you.
Wow,you’re quick off the mark,the lady said saucily,her eyes shining like a brass monkey.
What do you mean,you owe it to yourself? she went on.
Nothing,said Stan,I could not think how to word it.I mean I wish to unselfishly love you and admire your ripe body and your cute sense of colour.I love your teal trouser suit.And you sing so well in the bath.
You didn’t mean you owe it to yourself to take advantage of me?
Not unless you want me to take advantage of you,the gallant old man informed her fluently despite that his head was beginning to whirl.
And you can take advantage of me if you want to.I make cakes and biscuits,wholemeal bread and I am training my cat Emile to do statistics on an i pad.
How extraordinary,Annie whispered.I didn’t know cats had an “I.” let alone pads.
Well,they have pads on their paws,he informed her intelligently.
True,she said,but where are their I’s?
Where are our I’s ?he responded in a manner to rejoice the heart of Mary Midgley or Susanne Langer two of Stan’s favourite writers on philosophy,logic,symbols and ethics.
Not that he practiced the Ethics but he liked to know what he was doing wrong.It’s more fun that way.Good may come from evil and children are a blessing.
A man who seduces women merrily one after the other may have no idea it might be wrong.Neither might the women.Why is it wrong?Surely it’s better than killing people or leaving the lid off the jam all night so the wasps get into the jar?
Still,not many men get the chances that Stan got.No-one suspected this kindly,handsome practicing Catholic was a womanizer despite his blue beard,green eyes,white skin and red hair.And his slim yet strong figure clad in navy trousers and pink shirts all the year round.Maybe his wife did but she preferred to read Aristotle in bed and dream about mercury… those little silver balls are so cute
Well,as we know,Stan is about to make Annie his mistress but in such a cold wet summer,where can he take her to do the deed?
The shed?The public library? Cafe Nero?
I owe it to you not to tell you yet.That will give you time to think of a solution for this sweet old man and his naughty but nice neighbour.
Like,how about the confessional in the local Church?
Whatever next?I owe it to myself to keep it secret as you may come along and spoil the fun.
Stan went indoors and washed up in the boiling hot water he kept by him constantly as he owed it to himself to be ready to make a hot drink at any moment he fancied and by gum,he did fancy like no man has ever fancied before.So his daemon tells me.
Next time:Why did God create Stan and why does it matter?
Irony is a term for a figure of speech. Irony is when something happens that is opposite from what is expected. It can often be funny, but it is also used in tragedies. There are many types of irony, including those listed below:
- Dramatic irony, when the audience knows something is going to happen on stage that the characters on stage do not.
- Socratic irony, when someone (usually a teacher) pretends to be stupid in order to show how stupid his pupils are (while at the same time the reader or audience understand the situation).
- Cosmic irony, when something that everyone thinks will happen actually happens very differently.
- Situational irony e.g. Mr. Smith gets a parking ticket. This is ironic because Mr. Smith is a traffic warden.
- Verbal irony is an absence of expression and intention. Sarcasm may sometimes involve verbal irony.
- Irony of fate is the misfortune in the result of fate or chance.
- The difference between of things seem to be or reality.
Examples[change | change source]
- In Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet, Juliet takes a potion that will put her to sleep, making her look dead. She does this in the hopes of being reunited with Romeo. He incorrectly learns of her death, and kills himself. This is an example of dramatic irony, as the reader/viewer knows she is not dead, but Romeo does not.
- A common example of cosmic irony could be that a child wants some kind of pudding, and misbehaves to try to get it. The parent withholds it because of the child’s behavior.
- Verbal irony can be found in sarcasm, but not just that.
- In Sophocles‘ play Oedipus Rex, Oedipus acts out based on the knowledge of his fate which in turn leads to the fulfillment of the tragic fate. This is an example of how fate plays on irony.
Try writing nonsense, you will be surprised
I have used a comma, that’s the end;
How hard it is to know a poet can lie.
Unless you have a calling,shut your eyes
Do not break where you can also bend
Try writing nonsense, you be surprised
When I read a villanelle, men cry.
Ask the poet never to 1pretend
For cruel it is to find a poet who lies
Triolets bear sadness to the wise
If your aim is cruel, do not send
In learning nonsense, we’ve been ill advised
Rubbish is not nonsense,realise.
Lewis Carroll’s Alice was no friend
How hard it is to know where poets lie.
Sense and nonsense travel in a blend
So it is that fiction can offend
When writing nonsense, you must be composed
How hard is it to learn a poem transposed?