Fast Times

I recently started reminiscing affectionately with Ireena, a little, round, furry Indian pal whom I met in school when i had just landed on English shores age 14. though we shared many memories (mainly of my cutting every class to go watch films), our fondest recollection of that time, which had then seemed frankly horrific, is this (penned by Little round furry herself) ................


Twas a dark winter morn as we traipsed forlornly up the rickety steps to some pre-fabricated 1950’s hut. However we were buoyed up by the prospect of entering a somewhat forgotten world of slave girls and urns of wine. Yes, it was our first latin class. However instead of being taught by your typical corduroy wearing, grey haired, bespectacled mad professor type, we were instead greeted by the sight of Mrs cleaver. Looking back I suspect that Mrs C would have blended in quite well in the lord of the rings movies as a hobbit, what with the diminutive stature, random cut at home hair and unconventional tooth positioning. She also had what came to be referred to as the ‘gammy leg’- due to a youthful motorbike accident (possibly also causing the diminished stature effect). I think in a way the gammy leg also added an air mystery and hinted at another life of carefree abandon before the teaching of a deceased language took over.

Anyway in through the gloom we tramped, where we soon joined by a newcomer. Ms flavia jackson had entered the building. Although, actually I don’t really remember flavs ‘arriving’ at all. She was somehow just there, when previously she hadn’t been. And so began a fruitful journey into the era of Catullus, Pliny (both Elder and Younger) and Ovid. As we mulled over the Elder Pliny’s final descriptions of the eruption of Vesuvius and his nephew’s missives to the Emperor Trajan on the benefits of fire brigades we seemed to enter a more cultured world than the one outside populated by over hair-styled oiks (many of our school ‘chums’ ranged from the deluded to the downright retarded). On reading and translating Catullus love poems to his girl Lesbia, we came across a phrase that has remained with us for about the past 15yrs (eeek- can it really be that long?). ‘A countryman’s reeds building into pipes….’ I think, although it has varied somewhat over the years, was our comedy mis-translation of some elegant verse. Not even sure why it was funny, but to this day it still raises a smile for me.

Anyway, latin with flavs continued with much mocking of others poor translation skills, the birth of the junior flavs catchphrase, ‘check it out!’ with reference to our latin dictionary and some dubious poems with Lesbia breaking men’s thighs with her unfaithful desires. Many were the happy times spent in that little hut as we cemented our reputations as intellectual giants in a world of half-wits. All hail latin lessons! Salve amicus!