by Dermott Ryder
Folklore pops up in unlikely places. Have you read the bottom of your desk calendar lately? Has it occurred to you that this small metal tray, with its tear away sheets of hastily written, unreadable, always forgotten notes to yourself, has become a minor folkloric catalyst? It has also become something of an escape hatch from the work-a-day world of the “nine to five” warrior. But beware – there’s danger here. It’s the quotes, day after day an endless parade of quotes, what a trap for young troops. I thought I could read some and leave the others alone. But it doesn’t work like that, and by the time I realized that they were habit forming it was too late.
You can pick a quotaholic a mile away. The eyes are a dead giveaway. They just stare into space. You can knock on the door, ring the telephone or set fire to the wastebasket. It won’t make any difference. His, or her, tortured mind is off to where today’s quote came from.
Many of the quotes I have encountered during my years of manic calendar reading have been quite incomprehensible. Others have been hysterically funny, mildly amusing or deeply profound. Those I can handle. The most insidiously dangerous ones are the thought provokers. Fortunately they are mercifully rare on private sector calendars and forbidden, by government statute, on those of the public service.
Let me take you through a typical trauma cycle of a quotaholic. On Monday morning I arrived at my office and in a moment of thoughtlessness I read my desk calendar, “take a little wine for thy stomach’s sake” – no big deal – just a slight feeling of unease. I can handle it! On Tuesday my calendar said “work is the curse of the drinking classes”. I looked around guiltily, made sure that nobody was watching and dropped my calendar into my security drawer, quickly locking it. Will power that’s all it takes.
Then came Wednesday, and a moment of truth. I arrived at the office early. With trembling hand I retrieved my calendar from the security drawer and, cursing myself for a fool, I read, “the character of a people depends more on its drinks than on its food”. I knew that I was lost and I drifted off into a quote-induced reverie with the folk-rock group Steeleye Span playing in background.
There were three men came out of the west,
their fortunes for to try,
and these three men made a solemn vow,
John Barleycorn should die.
They ploughed, they sowed,
they harrowed him in,
threw clods upon his head,
and these three man made a solemn vow,
John Barleycorn was dead.
Then they let him lie for a very long time
‘till the rain from heaven did fall.
Then little Sir John sprung up his head,
and soon amazed them all.
They let him stand till Midsummer Day
‘till he looked both pale and wan,
and little Sir John he grew a long beard
and so became a man.
They hired men with the scythes so sharp
to cut him off at the knee.
They rolled him and tied him by the waist,
and served him most barbarously.
They hired men with the sharp pitchforks
who pricked him to the heart,
and the loader he served him worse than that,
for he bound him to the cart.
They wheeled him round and round the field
‘till they came unto a barn,
and there they made a solemn mow
of poor John Barleycorn.
They hired men with the crab-tree sticks
to cut him skin from bone,
and the miller he served him worse than that,
for he ground him between two stones.
Here’s little Sir John in a nut-brown bowl,
and brandy in a glass,
and little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
proved the stronger man at last.
And the huntsman he can’t hunt the fox,
nor so loudly blow his horn,
and the tinker he can’t mend kettles or pots
without a little John Barleycorn.
The brewing of beer and the baking of bread are two of the oldest manufacturing skills known to mankind. One may have been a by-product of the other but it’s not clear to me which one came first. Two things are certain: bread and beer have always been partners. Bread-beer has served the civilised world since Adam was a lad – and Eve became the apple of his eye.
To be continued…
© Dermott Ryder 2010
This entry was posted by Dermott Ryder on Monday, March 1st, 2010 at 12:00 am and is filed under Folkwatcher's Odyssey.
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