The world’s my oyster

Dear Diary,

Today, has been dreadful. I spent this morning reading an excellent book The Martyrdom of Man written by the Scotch empiricist and disciple of Hume: Winwood Reade. It is dubbed the atheist’s ‘bible’, and is a thoroughly interesting read.

I had already decided that Christmas was cancelled because of the sheer volume of Uni’ work I have to do. Father was not at all happy about it. I knew what his reaction would be, the instant I uttered that I am unable to make rehearsal: he would say, “I’ll find another guitarist.” Sure enough he repeated those very same words the instant I did not step in line. So be it. I don’t like the way he starves Ronulus anyway, nor that he leaves him outside in the middle of December. By not going to see him for Christmas means I have not only saved my future but also Ron’s life.

Alas, the film casting agency said that my wages would be in the bank at 4 P.M. today. By half-four the pay had not arrived. The agency had blocked my number so I had to call via another means. When I finally reached them the lady at accounts said, “Oh yes. I remember speaking to you. Sorry. Maybe next week.” I was furious. Since I had my Tax Credits slashed last Christmas, that is the first amount of money due to go into my account, and it never arrived. I wanted to ask her, “Why didn’t you pay me as you said you would?” but knew this would almost certainly make matters even worse. In-fact they tried to pay me on the 6th, and again today, but some computer error happened. I wonder why?..

Tomorrow I must busk with the supermarket staff all oogling at me, telling me I am not permitted to sing Christmas Carols. I am not going to sit here starving while they let the Iraqi ‘big’ issue seller stand there in his jesters hat, the only two words in English he knows are big and issue. Legalised beggars from Iraq take priority over British musicians, such is the state of the nation.

So, I am boned. More so than usual, would that were possible. Christmas is cancelled. I am poorer now than I have been at any time in my life.

On the up side, I found the answers to TMA02 part II of the Latin. Ha ha! It is a precise translation, and I will not be using it, because I am sure I can do an even more precise translation. We have a richness of language in an impoverished country, giving me the choice of words to use.

I finally realised that a white British man in his mid-thirties with no criminal record who plays guitar and piano well is welcomed into any country in the world. If things get really bad, with my confidence and knack for languages, the world is my oyster. I can go anywhere, do gigs, and get paid handsomely for it. Anywhere that is, apart from Britain, which has always been a struggle.

The following is a version of what I must translate.

Max.

Nihil vērō tam damnōsum bonīs mōribus quam in aliquō spectāculō dēsidēre; tunc enim per voluptātem facilius vitia subrēpunt. quid mē existimās dīcere? avārior redeō, ambitiōsior, luxuriōsior? immō vērō crūdēlior et inhūmānior, quia inter hominēs fuī. cāsū in merīdiānum spectāculum incidī, lūsūs exspectans et salēs et aliquid laxāmentī quō hominum oculī ab hūmānō cruōre acquiescant. contrā est: quidquid ante pugnātum est misericordia fuit; nunc omissīs nūgīs mera homicīdia sunt. nihil habent quō tegantur; ad ictum tōtīs corporibus expositī numquam frustrā manum mittunt. hōc plērīque ordināriīs paribus et postulātīciīs praeferunt. quidnī praeferant? nōn galeā, nōn scūtō repellitur ferrum. quō mūnimenta? quō artēs? omnia ista mortis morae sunt. māne leōnibus et ursīs hominēs, merīdiē spectātōribus suīs obiciuntur. interfectōrēs interfectūrīs iubent obicī et victōrem in aliam detinent caedem; exitus pugnantium mors est. ferrō et igne rēs geritur. haec fīunt dum vacat harēna. “sed latrōcinium fēcit aliquis, occīdit hominem”. quid ergō? quia occīdit, ille meruit ut hōc paterētur: tū quid meruistī miser ut hōc spectēs? “occīde, verberā, ūre! quārē tam timidē incurrit in ferrum? quārē parum audacter occīdit? quārē parum libenter moritur? plāgīs agātur in vulnera, mūtuōs ictūs nūdīs et obviīs pectoribus excipiant”. intermissum est spectāculum: “interim iugulentur hominēs, nē nihil agātur”. age, nē hōc quidem intellegitis, mala exempla in eōs redundāre quī faciunt?