Mel's Meanderings Brave New World Day 103

It’s amazing how you can know something and yet, not know something. One of my favourite songs ( and I’m sure it’s one of your as well, Isabella aged 94 and a half…she was a mere 94 when I began to immortalize her in these blogs ) is “ Where Do You Go To My Lovely ? “ by Peter Sarstedt. His brother was Eden Kane and I rather liked him too. I knew the words of “ Where do you go to “ off by heart… didn’t we all… but one line I never understood. Namely, “ you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire.” In fact before today I could not even have typed that line with any great accuracy because I had no idea who Zizi Jeanmaire was or whether she even existed. In fact I thought he was saying “ Dance like Gigi Le Mare “ who I assumed was a dancing female horse.

And then I did my normal “ read “ of the Times yesterday ( sport, shares, Times 2 for tv reviews and then I go to the obituaries ) And there she is. Zizi Jeanmaire in all her glory,wearing body tights and looking great. It seems she was actually a French ballerina and then was signed up to play opposite Danny Kaye in Hans Christian Anderson, the musical biopic of the writer of fairy tales.

The fact that she had never made a film before and couldn’t act for toffee made no difference at all to Samuel Goldwyn. He’d seen her dance in the ballet “Carmen “ in New York and he had, in the parlance of Hollywood, “ got him all steamed up “

The fact that she was in a serious relationship and arrived with her husband to be, Roland Petit, in tow, must have been a bit of a blow to the legendary pre “ Me Too “ womaniser. The film contained a ballet sequence directed by Petit and became one of the highest grossing films of the year in which she was billed a simply “Jeanmaire” Returning to France and trying to regain some credibility, she re-instated her childish nickname of “Zizi” and “Zizi” she remained throughout her life, throughout the song and in the obituary column.

I was talking about science fiction the other day. That’s generally the future, but I thought we might have a rummage through the past today. As long as we don’t touch the present we are on fairly safe grounds. As long as we don’t touch anything we are on safe grounds. Though in the present I see that there is a strong move to keep The Caretaker ( Dominic Cummings, in case you have forgotten or joined the party late ) away from security committees. Seems he’s not satisfied with messing up the whole Big V situation (not to mention telling porkies about his big days out), but he also wants to sack the civil service’s secretariat and replace them with his own political appointments. Maybe he should just stick to getting his eyes tested, which may just give him a clearer picture of what is his precise role in Government. Although, I suspect he thinks his role IS Government.

Bored with that now. Wish I hadn’t mentioned him. Back to the Past. Good title for a movie, I think. Now whilst you can’t get a new passport as the unions are playing up ( you remember them .. they were the ones who wouldn’t let the teachers go back to school… different union but I tar them all with the same brush… as far as Trade Unions are concerned Maggie had the right idea…. That’s lost me all my left wing readers for sure ) you can get a drink at a pub.

Drinking at pubs is an ancient British tradition. There is a book out called , “ How to Drink: A Classical Guide to the Art of Imbibing. “ Now, I’ve written How to be a Sports Agent and How to Complain, but in terms of catchy titles neither of those can hold a candle to a guide to boozing. The book was written by one, Vincent Obsopoeus ( you have no idea if I spelled that correctly, or not, have you ? ) in 1536, which is probably why the author hasn’t appeared in the Sunday Times bestsellers ( or should I say, best cellars ) list for a while. For some obscure reason he’s now been translated by a Mr Michael Fortune of Cornell University in the States, He may well not be just plain Mr, particulalrly if he has translated that from its original Bavarian edition into English. I mean, you have to be at least a Professor to be able to do that, or, indeed to have the nerve to do that.

It seems from the book that rowdy behaviour and competitive drinking games amongst the young is rooted in the Medieval youth of Europe, deprived of knightly pursuits. Obsopoeus’ book is in fact three poems strung together. The first offers advice on drinking sensibly, suggesting it is more prudent to stay at home and drink with one’s wife ( I’ve done that every night since the lock-down and I can tell you it really isn’t very sensible as you fall asleep watching the telly and then either can’t sleep when you get to bed or wake up at 2-3 wondering if you have the energy to struggle downstairs and have another scotch whilst it’s still technically the night to avoid being accused of drinking in the morning)

The second poem advises not to get so drunk that you will spill secrets ( probably a bit risky in sixteenth century Bavaria.. or sixteenth century anywhere )

Then in the third poem he really goes to town with tips for drinking contests. They aren’t sophisticated. Participants keeping drinking glasses of wine and the last one to retain consciousness is the winner. There is a variation on that where the number of glasses drunk depend on the roll of the dice. Sounds a bit like knocking back vodka-based shots in a twenty first century bar to me. Or, back to the book I mentioned a while back, “ The Dice Man “

But, there are handier tips, like going to the loo and hoping that the bearer of the drinks forgets you so that you miss a turn, or tipping your waiter to water down your wine.

The book ends with the following paragraph,

“ When your opponent is shouting abuse at the waiters for giving him bigger drinks than others, slurring his speech and leaving words unfinished. Sick and repeatedly asking the barmaids for help and cleverly dumping his wine out, those are the signs of a drinker on the ropes.”

We’ve all been there, haven’t we?

Can you imagine how they would have coped with social distancing and face masks? Not that anybody seems to be bothering with those anyway.

The translator does add a few notes of his own, as he says that the original author talks about getting hammered (in the sixteenth century that was probably quite literal ) and passing out in pigsties. He notes that he sounds like a man who has been round the block a few times. And hit the bollards on every circuit, I would hazard.

Going back even further in time also seems we underestimated the Neanderthals. Calling somebody one may not be quite such an insult as they had the intelligence to choose bones from specific animals to make tools for quite specific purposes. Mind you, who is going to say to any Neanderthal, with his hair down his forehead and eyes set too closely together, “hey you, I’ve got a bone to pick with you “ Mind you, he might well reply, “ I pick my own bones, do you want to make something of it? “

So, enough for the day. Jewish fast day today in memory of all the terrible things that have happened to us over the years. And now we have a new one in the shape of this idiot Wiley and his antisemitic rantings,

My confinement is coming to an end but I hope to see you again before that memorable event comes about , so meanwhile stay safe and let’s hope we are all spared till then