Fay Weldon's Threnody

I ate too much butter last night and as a result, am feeling rancid today. How apropos for  the idea that burbled up from all that incipient, burgeoning, rancidity of last night.

Today. My contribution to the morning, for it is morning here, of the 15th day of the year when orange blossoms are cast into the waters and oranges are given as a sign of good fortune, is that which is below - nothing original, but taken from Ms. Weldon.

First though, imagine someone named Threnody - which means a dirge, or lament - but thought by the careless mother who named her child Threnody to mean a happy, lilting melody.

Good intentions, but dire consequences.

"So you see, Miss Jacobs, all is well. What did you say? Nothing is ever as good as one hopes, or as bad as one fears? What a very sort of intermediate remark."

But, all so true Miss Jacobs, all so true.

and secondly,

"There is a certain kind of unhappiness, experienced by a certain kind of woman married to a certain kind of man, which is timeless: outrunning centuries, interweaving generations, perpetuating itself from mother to daughter, feeding off the wet eyes of the puzzled girl, gaining fresh strength from the dry eyes of the old woman she will become - who, looking back on her past, remembers nothing of love except tears and the pain in the heart which must be endured, in silence, in case the heart stops altogether.

Better for it to stop now."

Yes, indeed, much better for it to stop now if this is going to be the case. However, this wasn't what happened to Angel; she was married to that certain kind of man, she experienced that certain kind of unhappiness - lo, the  beauty and the clarity of the word 'certain' used in the original sentence - quite puts me in awe - but she walked away from Edward, that certain kind of man. And in so doing, she dried the wet eyes of the puzzled girl and ensured that the eyes of the old woman would still cry in later years, and that she would also remember more of love than the tears and pain in the heart.

"Tap, tap, back and forth, into the suitcase, out of the house.

             The garden gate swings behind her.

                                      Angel, bearing love to a safer place"

Good for you Angel. No need to stop the heart now. No need at all.

Fay Weldon - such a BRILLIANT writer.