Deadlines

Date: Saturday 8-June-2024. Time: 23:59 hrs. Locus: South Shore, Blackpool, England...

Phew! That was close.  Deadline's   met. Love one or loathe it (and I'm sure most people live in a slight fear of them), where would we be without the concept of deadlines? In an age of chaos and randomness, that's where. Plans would be poleaxed, schedules and schemes scuppered, timetables trashed. What was it the poet W.B. Yeats said? "Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world..." We wouldn't want that. 

As to where the term originated, I refer you to my friend Terry Quinn's blog from earlier in the week where he explores various alternatives relating to fishing, printing-presses and prison yards. Suffice to say that the generally accepted meaning of the word in the 21st century is a date/time by which some task has to be completed or else.

The "or else" bit varies according to circumstance. And naturally one's incentive to meet a deadline is usually in relation to the weight of the consequence and perhaps whether the deadline was mutually agreed or not.  

Maybe the essay doesn't get marked, the job application doesn't get considered, an article doesn't get published, the vote doesn't get cast, a passport becomes invalid or a holiday flight is missed, or some scheme falls through. Perhaps a fine or penalty payment is incurred, or hefty compensation becomes due. In extreme cases a finger or ear might get sliced off, or property be destroyed, or lives lost., or a planet dies. That latter scenario gives added and graphic meaning to the term.

the "dead" line

Time is running out. Enough of these Saturday night musings. Suffice it to say that I don't personally have a problem with deadlines. They are in place for a good reason. They are there to encourage and help us. For the most part, deadlines are our friends.😉 We should love and respect them. Move on...

My latest poem has a Greek theme. Now there's a surprise. Last summer while on holiday in Zakynthos I re-read a collection of Euripides' tragic plays. I based a blog and poem on the play 'Medea' back in September (linked here if you wish to check it out ==> Gate). Today I've written something based on the play 'Hecuba'.  She was the wife of King Priam of Troy. The  connection to this week's theme is literal in at least two respects. 

Firstly, Hecuba is contemplating a dead line, the end of a dynasty. After the Greek victory over Troy, her husband King Priam lies dead, and all her sons have been killed (Troilus, Hector, Paris, Deiphobus et cetera), as have most of her daughters. Only Cassandra and Polyxena survive, taken into slavery as is Hecuba by the conquering Greeks. Then Polyxena gets sacrificed  as atonement for Achilles' death and Cassandra's days are numbered. These grievous events drive Hecuba to madness and eventual suicide. She throws herself overboard from the ship taking her to a life of captivity in Greece.

Secondly, the script of Euripides' play is just so many dead lines until the actors bring those lines to life, and for about a thousand years between 400BC and the Renaissance they were rarely acted at all. In fact it was only in the 19th century when translations from Ancient Greek into English, French and German became popular that actors were able to bring these powerful tragic plays to mainstream theatre. And what phenomenal roles they are, the title characters in Euripides' plays: Hecuba, Medea, Electra, Iphigenia and more. Catch one if you can. 

Hecuba, Queen of Troy

The form of today's poem, as you might guess from its title if you've ever seen the TV programme from which it takes its name, references that part of the show when a guest is introduced and the three panellists on one team each have to explain their connection to the guest. Only one explanation is true. The panellists on the opposing team have to guess which one by interrogating their opponents' explanations. 

I've only written from the perspective of one person, Odysseus, but it stands well on its own, I think. By the way, the sub-title of the poem is taken from a scene in 'Hamlet'. 

Would I Lie To You?

"What's Hecuba to him...?"

This is Hecuba

and when I snuck into Troy

under cover as a spy 

in the early years of the war,

trying to gain intelligence

that would help we Greeks

bring this campaign 

to a speedy end

before we sacrificed

many more brave men

from each conflicting side,

Helen recognised me

even in my filthy wrappings,

with blackened and bloodied face.

She didn't betray me but told

only Hecuba, Queen of Troy.

And Hecuba, looking into my eyes

saw me for what I was,

not just a spy but a king

in disguise. And royally 

she served me then

when she could have

had me dragged off and killed.

She was civil, showed compassion,

understood my mission.

spared my life and secretly

despatched me in safety

from the city back to you.

So I say pity her now in her rags

and ashes. She is haggard

and broken by grief  for the loss

of her king and all her brave sons,

but spare her life.

She is a royal wife and mother

and though she rants and spittles

and barks like a mad dog

she is no threat to us now. Let me

show some kindness in return,

repay her gesture of years ago.

In compassion let her be led 

to my ship, not as a slave

but with tact, as a guest. 

Indulge me in this noble act.

Thanks for reading, S ;-)

Read More

Challenge - Defensive Driving

For almost two years now, everyday life has brought challenges. As Covid 19 and all variants took over and made us re-think how we do things and consider consequences, we have had to do our best to look after ourselves and each other, and abide by ever-changing rules, however bonkers they might be. I think we expected to be back to normal long before now, but here we are, plodding on after a second careful Christmas, with open windows on a cold day and a festive line in face masks.

A few short weeks ago, though it feels like months, we were enjoying a pre-Christmas extended break in Dumfries and Galloway. I love the organisation there. Face masks everywhere, track and trace details requested in every café and restaurant and no one makes a fuss – apart from one gentleman in Moffat, who was so rude to shop staff, he made me think I was in my home town for one awful moment. What is it with some people? Retail staff, in fact, all staff are challenged enough. During our stay, there was a problem which gave me a bigger challenge than I could have imagined. My husband developed a non-urgent medical issue, which, being sensible meant that he mustn’t drive. Over to me, gulp.

I’ve been driving for almost fifty years, but with no use – or parking space – for my own car, I was more than happy for my sister to use it as her own for as long as she needed it. My husband did the driving, I was always the passenger, as I liked to be. Driving isn’t my favourite thing but I had no choice. I had to educate myself with the finer points of his car and pop the car keys in my bag. I’m still not sure if I’d been promoted or punished for something. Anyway, onward and upward, I had to quickly overcome any worries and get on with it. There are worse things, I think. It is a lovely car. Bigger than my (4^th) Nissan Micra, which now belongs to my brother-in-law in Scotland. And it is automatic so it almost drives itself, which is good for me because there are so many hazards to look out for, especially now I am home and have to cope with traffic lights, roundabouts and things in the way.

The second week of our time in Scotland, I gained more confidence every day. Up and down the A75, the main road to all the places we wanted to go. I was unfazed by the narrow roads in small towns, or the country lanes on the Mull of Galloway. I refused to think about the journey home, the dreaded M6 and the ultimate challenge.

It was as bad as I expected, too busy, too fast and the sun in my eyes all the way home. I rose to the task and brought us home safely. No lunch stop at Gretna Gateway. No stopping at all until buying groceries at our Tesco. I was glad when that particular ordeal was over but another was about to begin. Driving locally is more of a nightmare than a challenge. I’m in this for the long term.

My Haiku,

Don't ask how we got
Under the rhododendron
A sad afternoon.

Reality check
The car keys are passed to me,
Am I promoted?

Confidence regained
In Kirkcudbright's easy streets
Before the drive home.

That fearful M6,
Cumbrian snowy landscape
Then soon we are home.

Now I've got to drive
Like I know where I'm going
In this messy town

With its silly roads
And its awkward roundabouts
And traffic filters

And pointless one-way,
I can rise to the challenge.
Defensive driving.

PMW 2021

Thanks for reading, Pam x

Read More