Dr Giles Fraser, former Canon Chancellor to St Paul’s Cathedral was on Thought for the Day and he spoke about The Caucus Race in Alice in Wonderland and the Dodo’s ethos of All Shall have Prizes.
It is forty days after St Swithun’s Day and I must say that we have not had constant rain, so there is a level of truth in the old adage.
Anyway, the Rev Dr declared that rewarding everyone undermined a sense of achievement. However, success should not influence the degree of parental love. The Prodigal Son found that the Father’s love was not dependent on his performance. Dr Fraser spoke about the apparent unfairness of the parable of the workers in the vineyard all receiving the same wages, but explained it as how love behaves. You can imagine Wills being annoyed that Harry gets away with his signature behaviour while he, closer in line, is expected, as the Elder Brother, to keep his nose clean.
Talking of lines to the throne, isn’t the genealogy bug gripping more and more people? Apparently, if you go back 30 generations, then you would find that Jesus was related to King David, after all. But so was every other inhabitant of Israel.
Trees become ever more branched if one widens the search and includes friends and relations, such as Rabbit and Alexander Beetle. Very Small Beetle was obviously staying overnight at Christopher Robin’s at the time of a census, but he may have gone round a gorse bush the wrong way and so disappeared off ancestry.co.uk and the International Genealogical Index. That was why Rabbit couldn’t find him in subsequent records.
Too many amateur genealogists are not paying sufficient attention to Popper (Sir Karl, 1902-94) and his theory of falsifiability. He said that no accumulation of instances could prove a theory to be correct. However, one counter-instance could disprove it, at least partly. Got that?
You see, all swans might be white, but an instance of a black one would falsify the proposition.
We need a conceivable test for our propositions. So, if we place a Rover robot with a plutonium battery that lasts ten years in a Las Vegas hotel room, we can verify if all Royals are white sheep, or if one black sheep exists. That means that we can make a scientific judgement. (see Pooh and the Philosophers by John Tyerman Williams, p 103-4)
So, Harry must return to Grandmamma and hear what the Crustimoney Proseedcake is to be, for he is a bear of very little brain and long words probably bother him. When he is asked why he behaved so stupidly, he will in all likelihood reply:
Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,
Why does a chicken? I don’t know why.
Eeyore could explain the whole sorry activity as Bon-hommy.
The Palace could refer to Wittgenstein and his observation in the Tractatus that what we cannot talk about we must pass over in silence.
Eventually HM might find a form of words:
Hello, Harry, wasn’t that you?
No, says Harry in a different voice.
Harry, says HM kindly, You haven’t any brain.
I know, says the Prince, humbly and then sort of boffs nervously as he swallows a spoonful of Extract of Malt. It’s just that it’s bad enough, granny, being miserable, what with no presents and no cake and no crown and no proper notice taken of me at all…
Well, now you know how your father feels We can’t all, and some of us don’t. That’s all there is to it
Can’t all what?
Gaiety..song-and-dance…bon-hommy.. There it is!
So what shall I do with this pole?
Give it back to the nice girl at the club, Harry. These friends – they are the wrong sort of friends..so I should think they would make the wrong sort of headlines.
So, what should I do now, Grandmamma?
Go on an expotition and keep out of trouble
It will rain tonight
Let it come down!
(Exit Harry, pursued but not bare.)
It is going to be squelching over the Bank Holiday Weekend.
© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012