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"So You Want to be a Potter?" - close reading by Michael Laskey Elizabeth tries to hide her disappointment, she thinks I’m throwing myself away by marrying this foolish, self-opinionated man.
But looked at rationally what choice do I have? I am not pretty like her and without her wit. We have no money, I am twenty seven. Am I to stay at home, the daughter of a vain semi-gentleman, my Gossip Mother, and all my sisters gradually starting to wear their skirts long, their hair up?
I have no feelings for him, find his company irksome but one can get used to anything. I’ll keep him busy in the garden and working at his sermons. A bit of flattery will soon satisfy his vanity, sense of his own importance and I shall be quite comfortable.
Practical, that’s what I have to be by choice if not by inclination. As “parson’s wife” I’ll have respectability, my own house, servants.
And as to Lady Catherine de Bourgh: apparently deferring to her wishes won’t be so hard, neither will conversation as she herself does all the talking. I’m sure I do the right thing in the circumstances.
Find a quiet spot without distractions. Every little stone may prove an obstacle. Ask a friend to help by holding the bicycle. Sit on the seat and turn the pedals with both your feet. The idea is to keep your balance.
Don’t look down at your feet, face forward. Your friend will keep up with you. Remember it is not as simple as it may look. You will wobble, he will try to steady you. Don’t blame him if you fall; everybody does, sooner or later.
It is easier than you think. It is much harder than you think. You depend on your friend, but don’t depend on him. Just bear in mind it is his gift to you. If he has had enough let him go.
first published in The Rialto, Issue 55, May 2005 included in collection Talking of Pots, People & Points of View, poetry p f, 2005, ISBN 0-9552040-0-3 / 978-0-9552040-0-5
That grieving is natural and hurts.
That it is easy to forget one’s children of any age also have to come to terms with their loss.
That it is important to fill the space left empty.
That Christmas and Birthdays are best spent with family or friends.
That “alone” is not synonymous with “lonely”.
That even your friends prefer to share good times with you rather than your grief.
That it is possible to go out on one’s own.
That it is easier to get to know strangers when not part of a couple.
That one can still laugh and enjoy oneself.
That one person might be able to do things that were too expensive for two but
that a bargain is not a bargain when one can use only half of it.
That one can indulge one’s own taste.
That freedom is something to treasure.
That life is still worth living.
in collection Talking of Pots, People & Points of View, poetry p f, 2005, ISBN 0-9552040-0-3 / 978-0-9552040-0-5
The players came to our court today, it is not often that we get a chance. I always liked them, they are skilful. They usually give a good performance.
This time the play was not so good, we did not stay to see the end. Their Queen talked on and on about her love, how she would always venerate the King’s memory— who’d said that he was ailing— would never love another man at any time, no matter how many years would pass. No woman in her middle years should say that when she feels capable of passion.
And then the nephew slays the King by pouring poison in his ear while he lies sleeping. At seeing this, Claudius calls for lights and leaves, most of us with him.
He was livid, I’ve never seen him like this. What sort of play is this? It was not entertaining as it should. Villainous fantasy, he called it. So far removed from real life.
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