Duels, Dinners, Dulcimers...

Well, last night was the music fest at the "Musical" Residence - where else? A very enjoyable affair on the whole - tasty snacks, fine atmosphere, and splendid people. I actually arrived half and hour early for a brief meeting of The Weavers (Writers Club). We meet in a very cozy, English tavern-like basement which we call "The Ball and the Cross", both because it sounds like a good pub name and because we are all Chesterton devotees. I read aloud a portion of my National Novel Writing Month story, and was surprised at how well it was recieved, condiering it is a very goofy piece about a rather - shall we say non-conformist? - all right, a rather nutty character who wishes to declare his farm in Suffolk an independant country and burst into the House of Lords, brandished the imperial Mace melodramatically, and started namecalling. Yes, it's definitely a comedy.

After that, we headed upstairs to join the party in honour of St. Cecilia's Feast Day. Yes, we are a day late, but if it had been held Saturday, it would have had to compete with two other events. Lots of wonderful music - guitar, violins, accordion, piano, drums... At one point in the evening the Captain, Lady Clare, and another student played several Celtic trios with violin, hammered dulcimer, and penny whistle (no, that's not something you get from the dollar store!) It was great to hear some new tunes, and to sing along to old one we haven't sung since the last bonfire, which was held in September.

At any rate, at one point in the evening, Lady Clare and I felt the urge to enjoy a quote duel, which is quickly becoming a tradition with us. There is a long story behind this, which I will have to relate sometime. Suffice it to say that we are engaged in a long and most diverting war involving quotes, which has manifested itself in all forms of pranks and battles, all involving the words of great authors. For some time we have been quote duelling, which means that we stand across from each other, throw down the gauntlet, and proceed to hurl quotes at each toher from memory. Ever quote must be related in someway to the last one, and must be sourced. For instance, if she said, "Is life a thorn? Then count it not a wit. The Yeomen of the Guard," I might respond, "Life's a pleasant institution. Let us take it as it comes. The Gondoliers." We try to keep them coming fast and furious. If there is too long a pause between quotes, our witnesses are obliged to say so and declare the last who spoke to be the winner. thus far, however, this hasn't happened.

Anyway, lots of fun. You really ought to try it some time.