Henry V

"...thus with imagined wing, our swift scene flies..." unto the green-beach, far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.

What a spectacular and most majestic performance dids't I witness this night. For to give my all (that is to say each and every hard-earned penny in my pocket, just to hear such Shakespeare). T'was worth every shilling, yea, I would willingly be without luxury nor neccessity to take in such a magnanimous set of scenes, by such worthily requited players. All musicians, to a man. Each and every performer dids't play his (or her) part, and did it well, brimming with such aplomb as never did this tiny town enjoy so much solemnity. Aye.

Leaving both my belovèd Gurtrude lying beside dearest Lillian, in the company of Saint Laurence: giver of Moonshine. What a night! I told the good fellow I would pick up the musical instruments on the morrow in the morning, for 'tis market day, and as such, there's many a penny more to be made, for one with talents such as I...

Larry left after his favourite scenes. He hath toil in the coming dawn to attend to, the industrious fellow he is. Who else should be there, but none other than both mine old English and Literature pedagogues from Woodroffe. T'was great to catch up. The conversation went thus,

Maxy "Ahh! Mrs. Hyde, how are you? Well I trust? Oh, and Mrs. Wilson! 'Tis very good to see you again, sincerely!"

(banter ensues, Maxy continues)

"Mrs. Hyde, Mrs. Wilson, this is my friend Larry. Larry, this is Mrs. and Mrs. Hyde and Wilson, my English Literature teachers from Woodroffe."

Larry "Where did it all go wrong?! Ha ha!"

Mrs. Wilson (sternly) "Nothing has gone wrong." (casts a sharp eye down at Laurence, who sits) "Nothing has gone wrong. Maxwell, so you are at University now I hear, and that you travelled abroad for many a year."

...and so it was, that I, chuffed, proud, to be so highly gratified by my esteemed former tutors. I know from talking to Mrs. Hyde in the health-food shop on another day afore, that she loved the story my twin brother and I wrote when we were but a dozen years old. The imagined voice. A pair of buttons, one from New York city, and one from London town.

Larry has been a good friend, and shows his friendship in real-terms. I gave him a guitar today, an unnamed instrument. Anyway, his jovial manner, dry sense of humour, and occasionally goading close friends, I tolerate and take not the least bit of offense, such is the amity of the mans gentle character. Equally, I was so very bowled over by their praise. Mrs. Wilson also commended me for my writing, saying that she had n'er writ a line. My response was that although I write many poems and songs, I fear I hath not the wearwithal to complete a full novel; that I am contented with penning short stories and poesy, and that I have not yet been published. Yet...

What a wonderful evening. I was moved to tears during the siege of Harfluer. The skin on mine arms tingled with joy during the scene with the herald prior to that. Aye. Though Marlowe be the master, Shakespeare is among the greatest of our native authors, as familiar as household words.

This night makes me resolved to write more. A faithful affirmation of my creative talents gives a boost to my confidence (and already inflated ego!).

After the finalé, just as I was leaving, I spoke of the Open University song I had appropriated from our school, Woodroffe. The two pedagogues shared some insight on the circumstances surrounding the original composition. Most interesting. They also shed light on it's demise. Both teachers were overjoyed to hear that I had re-invented the tradition, and bade me send my composition (arrangement) to our old music master. I accredited the flutist and translator who helped me recreate the piece.

Maxwell.