#26 Brideshead Nevervisited

Friendship, faith and human frailty.

I’ve never read Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited but I hear it shares the same themes.

An enigmatic rich girl in a big house with no company save her overbearing mother? that sounds like a particularly violent horror story waiting to happen. Does anyone get punched out in Brideshead Revisited? I feel someone should. Someone who’s nothing to do with the plot, an innocent, and slightly unfortunate, bystander.

The nine-year old Julia sang vespers in Latin and I watched pokemon on SM:TV and felt that getting up before 09.25 on a Saturday morning was worth a medal, or at the very least a Blue Peter badge. Julia’s destined for power and there’s no future for me.

I don’t mean that to sound half as hopeless as it does, all I mean is that I’d rather be forgotten and never reminded of my teenage obsessions with ‘Saving the Whale’ and collecting used train tickers whereas Julia’s a story worth telling and re-telling.

I may never be photographed by Annie Leibovitz for the cover of Vanity Fair but then that saves me asking myself the question, ‘How wide should I open the shutter in to my life?’ The question it raises for you and I every time a person is shot for the cover of Vanity Fair is, ‘Is the humour, drama and intrigue of our lives injected through the vein of publishing at a Soho drinking den?’ I enjoy reading, music and film as much as the next person. I have a favourite heroine, band and song, but at what cost? Am I spending my life living vicariously through them?

It seems to be if you’re not being gossiped about you come across as rather dull, I think it was writ by a contributor to Vogue magazine that ‘beauty is in the ear of the listener’ and God only knows that they would know about beauty.  I guess I may be speaking on a different frequency, because I don’t suppose they’re listening. I understand music, books and film to be our escapism, but let us not forget to toast to the mundane, the trips to the post office, the attending arduous lectures and the biannual trip to the dentist’s office, it might not be spactacular, but it’s our life, and I don’t know about you, but it’s an alright life from my side of the pond.

I hate my brother, he smells.
And, my sister just bit me.


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