JOAN: I love to tap dance! I am now learning how to do it properly, I hope. Last year, I joined a fun set of mainly novices, all female, under the expert tutelage of Sylvia Sheppard. We are Sylvia's Tappers. Tripping abroad rather than tapping at home in 2017 meant I soon got behind the others. So it was back as a beginner that I returned in 2018. The classes remind me of the wonderful play, Stepping Out, which was performed at Four Seasons and Repertory theatres. The characters in the play were not unlike Sylvia's pupils in that we're all from different backgrounds and with different life experiences but we, like they, bond through love of dancing and the loyalty and support that ladies tend to offer to each other. We work hard and during the first four weeks of this year we have 'glowed, perspired or sweated' according to our natural vocabulary. We also laugh a lot and are interested in and willing to share each other's fortunes and misfortunes. For myself, the only snag is the set of mirrors at the side of the room! La la land we are not, but slim and experienced dancers such as Jo Smillie and Nanette Maslin inspire us larger, older, equally committed members to gain huge satisfaction from our weekly get-togethers, both as friends and developing stars! Thank you, Shirley, you are great. See you next week, ladies!
MIKE: This is a paean to butterflies, creatures which, like many other people, I find amazingly attractive and endearing. One of my favourite words is 'ephemeral', often applied to them. Maybe that is one reason for my being drawn to them, a feeling of sympathy and regret for such a brief and beautiful existence. As a child, Spoonerisms fascinated me, and 'flutterbyes' seemed an even more apt terminology for these flying flutterers. But the French word, 'papillon', rates even more highly for me, suggestive of their graceful, airy, light, delicate structure.
Reading a new Paul Auster novel recently, (4321), I came across a passage narrating the Greek myth of Cupid and Psyche, with which I am vaguely familiar. The character stated that the Greek word 'psyche' had two meanings, 'soul' and 'butterfly'. The former was the only one I knew, the second seemed unlikely. Feeling rather dismissive about this, obviously inserted to suit the novelist's purpose, I consulted my hefty 1776 page dictionary of Ancient Greek, dating from 1883 and weighing in at a modest 5kg! And there it was! A full column of examples from Homer, Plato, et al, of references to the soul, and, lurking near the end, a three line segment on 'butterfly', the 'papilio brassicae' (cabbage butterfly). It suggested this alternative meaning 'perhaps as being an emblem of the immortal soul, by reason of its passing through a kind of death in the chrysalis form'. An interesting and comforting philosophy.
As I was standing in the garden last week, a butterfly landed close to me, on the edge of our bird bath. Smaller than a monarch, it had two yellow spots on its dark black wings. After a while, it rose into the air, flew around, then landed — all too briefly — on my arm. Fluttering over the fence, it returned towards my outstretched arm and again alighted there, for a short moment. It followed the same procedure a third time — then flew away. Somehow it seemed like a message especially for me.
JOAN: 'Expressions'. I mentioned this unusual gallery last week and there is work on show there that has stayed in my mind. Owner Steve Selfe welcomes new artists to his exhibition space as well as those better known. A visit there will make you smile with pleasure and, often, with astonishment at what you see.
