Spring has arrived, and along with it the headiness of Easter and the tedium of Final Examinations. Mount Vernon is truly beautiful in spring: I wish I had the diligence to take some pictures and upload them.
Was listening to Shakespeare’s Henry VII on the BBC III just now. A truly remarkable play by any means, all the more amusing because one sees the propagandish slants of his time: the stock evil Romish Cardinal Woosley up in cahoots with an evil Pope, and the righteous Thomas Cranmer.
A story is told of Sinbad the Sailor and the Old Man of the Sea:
When I was a little advanced into the island, I saw an old man who appeared very weak and feeble. He sat upon the bank of a stream, and at first I took him to be one who had been shipwrecked like myself. I went towards him and saluted him, but he only bowed his head a little. I asked him what he did there, but instead of answering he made a sign for me to take him upon my back and carry him over the brook, signifying that it was to gather fruit.
I believed him really to stand in need of my help, so took him upon my back, and having carried him over, bade him get down, and for that end stooped that he might get off with ease: but instead of that (which I laugh at every time I think of it), the old man, who to me had appeared very decrepit, clasped his legs nimbly about my neck, and then I perceived his skin to resemble that of a cow. He sat astride upon my shoulders, and held my throat so tight that I thought he would have strangled me, the fright of which made me faint away and fall down.
Notwithstanding my fainting, the ill-natured old fellow kept fast about my neck, but opened his legs a little to give me time to recover my breath. When I had done so, he thrust one of his feet against my stomach, and struck me so rudely on the side with the other, that he forced me to rise up against my will. Having got up, he made me walk under the trees, and forced me now and then to stop, to gather and eat fruit such as we found. He never left me all day, and when I lay down to rest by night, he laid himself down with me, always holding fast about my neck. Every morning he pushed me to make me wake, and afterwards obliged me to get up and walk, and pressed me with his feet. You may judge then what trouble I was in, to be loaded with such a burden as I could by no means rid myself of.
On question preoccupies me: Where to live? The deadline looms.
Kyrie eleison.
