Drunken louts are we
Living in the US one soon becomes accustomed to being treated as a minor member of royalty, one's accent carrying connotations of education, civility and sophistication to the colonial mind. All quite justified in my case of course. So it was 'refreshing' to be brought back down to size last Saturday in post-match conversation with a fellow from Greece. The discussion went something like this:
"So you're English?"
"Yes, that's right. Are you Italian?"
"Greek actually."
"Oh, Greece is a beautiful country. I once had a wonderful holiday in Crete."
"Oh really, did you get drunk and smash up the town?"
"No, umm, just walked in the hills, took in the sights, that sort of thing..."
"You English love to get 'pissed-up' and break things, right?"
"Ummm... Like all societies, we have our unsavoury elements..."
"Huh. Well, not that I have anything against drunken violence per se"
"Well I do"
"Why?"
"Well, for one thing it clearly gives us a bad reputation abroad."
"Oh - I see - I didn't realise you were so sensitive about it."
He was right, I did feel rather defensive. On the other hand, it's easy to get a bit nostalgic about the old homeland, so the incident reminded me of some of the positives about being somewhere else.
Look, I'm not entirely sure any of you are actually reading this. If you are, you are, in the main, frightful liggers who take, take, take from my limited store of wisdom but contribute nothing, yes, nothing to the ongoing dialogue of the blog or indeed transatlantic communication in general. There are some exceptions of course - you know who you are and I thank you and apologise for this tirade. But the rest of you are all bums or hobos of some sort.
Here's a chance to redeem yourself, then. Post a reply to this entry in the form of a Haiku. What's a Haiku, you ask? Well, it's a very simple poem of three lines with a 5/7/5 syllable structure. I used to teach 9-year-olds to do this, so I'm sure you're up to it. Here's one to get you started:
Springtime in Portland
And the living is easy
Wish you were here too
"So you're English?"
"Yes, that's right. Are you Italian?"
"Greek actually."
"Oh, Greece is a beautiful country. I once had a wonderful holiday in Crete."
"Oh really, did you get drunk and smash up the town?"
"No, umm, just walked in the hills, took in the sights, that sort of thing..."
"You English love to get 'pissed-up' and break things, right?"
"Ummm... Like all societies, we have our unsavoury elements..."
"Huh. Well, not that I have anything against drunken violence per se"
"Well I do"
"Why?"
"Well, for one thing it clearly gives us a bad reputation abroad."
"Oh - I see - I didn't realise you were so sensitive about it."
He was right, I did feel rather defensive. On the other hand, it's easy to get a bit nostalgic about the old homeland, so the incident reminded me of some of the positives about being somewhere else.
Look, I'm not entirely sure any of you are actually reading this. If you are, you are, in the main, frightful liggers who take, take, take from my limited store of wisdom but contribute nothing, yes, nothing to the ongoing dialogue of the blog or indeed transatlantic communication in general. There are some exceptions of course - you know who you are and I thank you and apologise for this tirade. But the rest of you are all bums or hobos of some sort.
Here's a chance to redeem yourself, then. Post a reply to this entry in the form of a Haiku. What's a Haiku, you ask? Well, it's a very simple poem of three lines with a 5/7/5 syllable structure. I used to teach 9-year-olds to do this, so I'm sure you're up to it. Here's one to get you started:
Springtime in Portland
And the living is easy
Wish you were here too
posted by Richard Tammar at 5:54 PM
9 Comments:
Here you go then. After discarding lots of more lively but insulting ones, I've gone for something suitably wistful:
Springtime at Sussex:
Sipping tea from your mug, I
Try not to chip it.
(Don't worry, this is a fictional image. It sits untouched, intact, and waiting for you and Rach to come visit).
Sky clear Rayleigh blue
Spring permeates the air, but
Office reeks of paint.
Posted on behalf of E.J. Thribb.
Just to remind you how to conduct a British conversation should you one day find yourself back in England:
Snow-fought for three days,
Sunbathed, shivering, at lunchtime;
Unsettled weather.
First it took convicts,
Then got my boss out the way.
'Mazing Oz-tray-lyah.
laura said...
a poor effort i know but here you go
tontie has me hooked
whacking weird moles is great fun
how do you hit yours?
weird whack-a-mole game
here's one I'm posting on behalf of everyone else...
Dear Mr Tammar
With regret for my lack of
Everything sublime
of course it's not too late to add your "two cents" as they say over here. Here's another verse that springs to mind (who can say why?):
Cast pearls before swine
Expecting sentient voice
Getting vacant stare
'Cast pearls before swine
Expecting sentient voice
Getting vacant stare'
Oh cynical one
But how could you expect a
Serious response?
When Haikus must be
Written in fear of shadows
Looming o'er your desk
And about to ask
'Why are you doing no work?'
When you quit the net.
Gifted Rehanna
I like your poems so much
I shan't tell Katy
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