Letter to Rebecca #24-12

Macbeth, Nasrudin and tea

In which Lord Terry discusses tea, Macbeth’s fatal flaw, Mulla Nasrudin and fishing, and presents Rebecca with another fiendish cryptic crossword clue. <Snigger>

Dear Rebecca

Thank you for your epistle.

Edgar Wallace’s quaffing 30-40 cups of tea a day is impressive in a bizarre sort of way. I was wondering if the tea kept his body lubricated, thereby aiding longevity. Like Elaine’s piano teacher, an 80 cigarettes a day lady who, at the age of 90, thought perhaps she ought to give up. Her doctor told her not to because the shock would kill her. But then I found out that Wallace died at the age of 56 from diabetes, presumably Type 2. Maybe he put too much sugar in his tea, or liked to have a slice of cake with each cup. Who knows? My own doctor, a real killjoy if ever there was one, told me many years ago that I could become diabetic myself eventually unless I stopped eating everything I liked. He didn't put it in exactly those words, but that's what it amounted to. He also told me to lose weight, for which purpose he enrolled me on a nutrition course, and put me in a scheme called exercise on referral. The nutrition course was awful because (a) I started to obsess over calories and (b) it became very clear very quickly that I wasn't allowed to eat anything at all. Plus (c) the walks to the class always made me hungry. And (d) I was already eating healthily thanks to Elaine, but supplementing my diet with chocolate and sandwiches between meals.

Anyway, I left the nutrition course, but did so well on my own and by going to the gym that when I asked if I could continue in order to consolidate my gains I was told that because I'd lost weight I was no longer eligible. Isn't that silly? Still, the quack was happy.

I was impressed with your research, by the way. That was very interesting and enlightening.

So far so good, but then you just had to include a section on fishing, using some sort of floating armchair. I know it was for food rather than sport, but loafing around in an armchair on the Thames isn’t strictly necessary, is it? Especially when you can pop into the nearest supermarket and visit the fish counter. Besides, if I were to go fishing in an armchair I’d probably get stuck. The last time I went seafaring was at a conference in Boston in 2005. We went on the boating lake and I spent the entire hour trying to get away from this stupid island they’d put in the middle of the lake for no apparent reason. Never again.

That fishy business of yours did serve one useful function though. It reminded me of a story of Mulla Nasrudin, a Persian folk hero who may or may not have existed. In one story Nasrudin hears that the king is looking for someone to take on the role of Grand Vizier, and that the person being sought must be poor and humble. Nasrudin starts to dress like a fisherman and act very humbly. Word soon reaches the king about a humble, poor fisherman who has no airs or graces. By and large, Nasrudin gets the job. The next time he appears in his village, he’s wearing beautiful silk clothes.

“What happened to the fisherman’s clothes, Mulla?”, the villagers ask him.

Nasrudiun replies: “Why dress like a fisherman when the fish has been caught?”

I love that story, not least because I’ve met several people who are all things to all people until they achieve their goal, at which point they drop all pretence and reveal their true colours.

On which subject, I’ve started attending a course about Macbeth. It’s a tragedy in the Greek tradition, that is a story of a good person who has one fatal flaw. In Macbeth’s case this is listening to his wife.

As I’ve mentioned before, when I was 14, the English teacher said to us that we were going to start on Macbeth, and asked the class if anyone knew anything about it. My hand shot up.

Me: Sir! Sir!

English teacher: Yes, Freedman? (I went to a boys’ grammar school, so the teachers addressed pupils by their surname.)

Me: That’s the play where the king’s wife is behind a load of murders.

ET: Yes, it is indeed the play in which, as Freedman so picturesquely puts it, the king’s wife is behind a load of murders.

In case you don’t have time to read or see the play whose name must not be mentioned, here is a graphic novel summary of the whole thing. I’ve modernised the text a bit:

The three wiches or weird sisters: “Hey Macbeth! You’re going to be king. (snigger).”

Macbeth: “Sorry, Dunc, but my wife put me up to this.”

Banquo: “Whooooooo”. Macbeth: “Oo-er”.

Messenger: “Burnham Wood is on the march.” Macbeth: “You having me on?” Messenger: “No, Squire.” Macbeth: “Gulp.”

MacDuff, victorious: “Call me BIg Mac”.

I’m very much enjoying the close reading of the text, and as always I relish coming across expressions that have become part of our language, like poisoned chalice, the be all and end all, and others. More on’t as the course progresses perhaps.

Your crossword clue was very good. It was:

Gift from a spy, we hear, in luxury shopping district (4, 6)

The answer is Bond Street, which sounds like (“we hear”) Bond’s (007) treat.

My clue is one of my favourites, from ages ago in the Daily Telegraph:

What an incompetent deep sea diver must do to get rid of an irritation? (4,2,2,7)

The next big event in my life is teaching my course Creative Writing Using Constraints, which I cannot resist plugging at ever opportunity. There’s a nice number enrolled, so it should be vibrant, but I’m hoping for at least one or three more because at the moment there’s an odd number, which makes pairing people up a bit difficult. I know that I could have one group in threes, but what I might do instead is make the last person to enter the room sit in a special chair of shame in the middle of the room for that session. That’ll learn them. Here are a couple of pictures of me teaching, back in my schoolteaching days:

They should help people recognise me, even though I have aged slightly in the last thirty years. Thank goodness for that portrait in the attic, or it could have been worse.

Well, that’s it from me for now, Rebecca. I look forward to reading your chortlefest of a reply next week.

All the best

😎

To anyone reading this missive, you can see the whole archive here. Rebecca should reply next Wednesday, so make sure you don’t miss that by subscribing to hers.

Thanks for reading!