journal of a writing man

A shaggy grass story

March 24, 2008 · 7 Comments

Monday March 24, 2008

That’s Easter done for another year, then.  We still have today as a Bank Holiday in England and Wales.  Not sure about the rest of the world. I confess I’m only mildly interested; certainly not enough to check my Almanac.

I’ve just been watching the ceremony from Olympia, live on BBC TV, igniting the Olympic flame at the start of its journey to the 2008 Games in China.  Didn’t watch all of it of course; boring speeches in languages I don’t understand tend not to keep my attention long.

I was, of course, wowed at the thought that I was seeing the heart of Ancient Greece, still beating steady after all these years.  It’s a pity they had to hire actresses to play the part of the priestesses but, even though they were close by the temple of Hera, it may be that the real priestesses were busy, or on holiday, or don’t have the required actors’ union cards.

The thing that really bothers me, though, is that the Greek authorities did such a lousy job of cutting the grass.  Nicely mown grass has a lot to do with civilisation.  Leastways, it does for me.

Categories: personal