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I am morally obliged to do these memes - Wemyss's Appalling Hobby:
From the Party Guilty of Committing 'Gate of Ivory, Gate of Horn'
wemyss
wemyss
I am morally obliged to do these memes


 

Firstly, from sacred_sarcasm,

 

Meme, from various people

1. Comment to this post and I will give you 5 subjects/things I associate you with.
2. Then post this in your LJ and elaborate on the subjects given.

 

She gave me:

 

1. Oxford
2. Draco Malfoy
3. Heraldry
4. Margaret Thatcher
5. The Ten stone Scone Baker's Daughter.

 

 

We might easily be here for days.

 

1.                  Oxon.  Or Ox-off.  It’s a matter of temperament, I’m certain; yet had I not had other obligations, I should have been eminently suited to the unexacting and sedentary life of a don, with all the excitements being safely cerebral.  And it’s a beautiful bit of country without the University and the city – and unlike other undergraduates, my tastes ran to the rural and Betjemanic.  Most of all, I rather suppose, it’s a certain attitude of mind that in my case, at least, was already in me waiting to be cultivated and which I shall never lose.

2.                  Draco Malfoy.  I quite understand those who dislike the character: the author intends that we do, and he, for six books and a goodish bit of the seventh, eminently deserving of our disgust.  Yet there are rich possibilities in him: comic; picaresque; redemptive.  One can easily mould him into a chastened figure duly redeemed.  One can readily also subject him to the treatment GMacDF gave to Flashman.  I’ve done both, sometimes at once.  As a secondary villain and foil, he is, in canon, just interesting enough to write about and not so fully fleshed-out as not to leave scope for the fan-hack’s trade of backstory and re-envisioning.  There is also the fact that many of us were utter shits at fifteen: it seems important not leave anyone there.

3.                  Heraldry.  The shorthand of history.  The assumed arms of one GMW Wemyss, for example – he being after all a wholly fictional construct, a thing of gossamer and pixels and a pseudonym, the arms are of course unrecognised by Garter Principal and still more by the Lord Lyon – are an example.  http://pics.livejournal.com/wemyss/pic/000df7t9 
Æsthetically pleasing, hinting at history, they are precisely what is so fascinating about the discipline.  I shall doubtless go on at length in another post.

4.                  Mrs T.  As I have had occasion to state, I am by conviction, rather than wholly by temperament, rather a grocer than a grandee.  http://wemyss.livejournal.com/110811.html
Mrs T was generally upon the side of democracy and always on the side of liberty.  She was and is the true, great feminist of our age.  She was a great House of Commons woman: one reason, along with her righteous hatred of its democracy deficit, why she drew the line as regards the EU precisely where it wants to be drawn.  She was likewise right about the Argentine junta, right about Saddam Hussein, right about the Cold War, right about ending it, right about sound money, and right about its being necessary that the Crown in Parliament, not any combination of subjects however mighty, should govern the realm.  Her great tragedy was, that in order to combat such threats to parliamentary democracy, and the supremacy of the elected representatives of the people, as overweening trades unions and the Hard Left, she was forced to concentrate too much power in Westminster.  I know that many conscientiously decent people have exaggerated notions about her that lead to exaggerated and really quite silly hostility; I find it curious that the same people who fawn upon that form of the Nonconformist Conscience in action that is decoupled from Christianity and deployed upon the Left, so hate it when it appears upon the Right: for that was the key to Mrs T: ‘I am in politics because of the conflict between good and evil, and I believe that in the end good will triumph.’  It generally did do, consule Thatcher, and she deserves credit for that.

5.                  The Baker’s Daughter, all twenty stone scone of her.  Oddly, she rather goes with Mrs T: ‘we are the people of England / That have never spoken yet’ and All That.  Rabelaisian, aspirational, white-van-driving, she’s everything at which a grandee Tory shudders and much of what a grocer Tory approves; and she is the peg on which I have chosen to hang my little village set-pieces precisely because of her vigour and rude humour and vibrancy.  And ever so much fun to recount.  For she and those she symbolises shall speak, and soon, and never again will it be possible to smile at them, pay them, pass them, and forget, and a damned good thing, too – although it ought by rights to keep Gordon Brown awake at night sweating in cold fear.

 

Secondly, having commented on two friends’s posts, I must reciprocate:

 

-          Describe me in one word – just one single word. Positive or negative.

- Leave your word in a comment, before looking at what words others have used.

- Copy and paste the meme to your journal to find out how people describe you when limited to one word.

 

Anonymity is acceptable and I never trace IP addresses, so anyone, including my numerous detractors, is free to have a go.

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Comments
fpb From: fpb Date: February 22nd, 2009 09:43 pm (UTC) (Link)
You know where I agree with you and where I don't. However, mention of heraldry as the shorthand of history brought back a recent memory. A couple of years ago, I had a running feud with a really nasty Lefebvrite schismatic on a Catholic blog. This man, after getting several lessons in history, dogmatics and theology from yours truly, one day said that he did not believe I was either Italian or Catholic; he thought I was a Jew in disguise. (This sort of thing, by the way, is typical of Lefebvrites.) Now, I would have no objection to being a member of Einstein's and Jack Kirby's nation, but such is not the case, and my ancestry on both sides is ancient, Italian, Catholic, and, as it happens, armigerous. So I informed the revolting person that my father's people, the Barbieris of Romagna, go back to the thirteenth century and have a saint of the Church among them; and I added that my mother's lot, the Fanellis of Puglia, went back at least to the fourteen hundreds - and their arms bear a red heart on a white field. The Sacred Heart of Jesus, a symbol known to every Catholic. Very Jewish, I said sarcastically. And you know what the sod did? From then on, and until one more than usually vile posting got him banned, he kept calling me "the Count"! You can't win.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: February 22nd, 2009 11:23 pm (UTC) (Link)

People.

You really cannot win with some of them.
tekalynn From: tekalynn Date: February 23rd, 2009 02:46 am (UTC) (Link)
Erudite.
tiferet From: tiferet Date: February 23rd, 2009 11:33 pm (UTC) (Link)
That's the one I picked too.
serriadh From: serriadh Date: February 23rd, 2009 07:21 pm (UTC) (Link)
Excellent - most interesting, and I always particularly enjoy your snippets of village life :) (And if she keeps Gordo sweating awake at night, that's another plus for the Baker's Daughter)
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