I’ll post the
second, concluding, half of Little Miss Monoglot on Monday. Nobody takes blogs
seriously at weekends or, at least, not Tone Deaf.
So here’s
something different: RR in church but not for a funeral. On Friday I drove grandson
Zach to his school’s harvest festival. I did my bit, bellowing Come Ye Thankful
People Come, sometimes as a bass, sometimes a tenor. Some words have ever-so-slightly
pagan echoes:
Wheat and tares together sown
Unto joy or sorrow grown
followed by
Give his angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast
ending with
All be safely gathered in
Free from sorrow, free from sin
There for ever purified.
Zach (bottom of
pointy line) acted as narrator during the inexplicable insertion into the
proceedings of Little Red Hen. Asked why he got this job he said offhandedly, “Because
I’m the best reader in the class.” Not boasting, simply stating a fact.
Back home he got
chance to prove this. For homework he had to read aloud The Big Stink by Sheila
Lavelle. I asked him what level this represented given several hardish words
(bean casserole, gold medallist, traction engine) all gabbled away at high
speed. It seems it is hors catégorie.
Zach is six.
NOTE Following
the appearance of the German short story Lucy suggested perhaps I “get” Germany
more than I “get” France. It’s quite possible; I suspect I’m more detached about
the former. Anyway Monoglot is about France and I’d welcome a confirmation of
this from anyone who has read both. But don’t break a leg.