Some years ago the Gloucester Citizen published a story about the Humber Bridge and reported that, as the bridge was so little used by the folks of Lincolnshire and South Yorkshire, it was going to be detached from its anchorage, towed down the North Sea and find its way up the Bristol Channel to Lydney. The newspaper was dated April 1st.
The idea of an April fool has a long history; for example Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales (1392) tells of the vain cockerel Chauntecleer being tricked by a fox, whilst in 1508 the French poet Eloy d’Amerval referred to a poisson d’avril (April ‘fool’ fish”). During the middle ages a holiday, ending on 1st April, was celebrated in most European towns as the end of the New Year festival. This practice probably had its roots in the Roman festival of Hilaria which was itself, associated with the Egyptian cult of Isis and Osiris.
In Britain an April fool joke is still announced by shouting “April fool!” and in countries whose traditions derive from Britain the joking ceases at midday. A person playing a joke after midday is the “April fool” themselves. The tradition of the Court Jester is also related, in that the King, who needed to hear truth as opposed to the fawning words of his courtiers, often employed a clever, but witty ‘fool’ who could state a truth in such a way as not to offend.
Talking of fawning words, ancient cults and Jesters however leads me to reflect on the modern cult of celebrity and reality TV.
Celebrity and Real are words much used in those adverts which tell us that a particular product is made with ‘real’ ingredients. We also hear politicians talking about ‘real’ people, and to top it off, activists tell us they are making a ‘real’ difference.
Who are they kidding? After all, who puts ‘unreal’ ingredients in a pie and who pays for the politicians and activists to supposedly make a real difference; Unreal people?
Talking about real however, reminds me that it is real taxes that pay for Reality TV Shows which, to my mind, seem no more than ad-lib versions of TV Soaps. Both manage to compress into a few hours, the entire range of emotions the normal person would need a lifetime to experience. Speaking for myself, I just can’t cope with the speed at which programmes manipulate my emotions. How can I move from despair to elation in seconds and from grief to joy in the blink of an eye? I am afraid my brain’s emotional wiring just can’t work at that speed and, frankly, I do not want my emotions manipulated by people paid to do so.
Thinking about what is real and unreal in life and the emotional responses we experience reminds me of the importance of sound and particularly music. Amongst the types of music my wife and I enjoy is jazz, and with friends, we have for many years attended the Upton Jazz Festival. A regular, albeit unpaid and impromptu performer was an elderly man dressed in black trousers and jacket festooned with festival badges. His outfit was topped off with a black trilby. Small of stature and seemingly frail with poor eyesight, he would sit on the front edge of the stage where audiences and performers alike would kindly acknowledge his ability to extract music from tea and table spoons.
Clive ‘Spoons’ Morgan was also active in the Friends of the Upton Festival monthly concerts until his death at the age of 87. Local papers carried tributes and when a copy reached my jazz loving friend Stuart from Southwell, he was moved to write a sonnet that I hope will entertain those readers who have seen ‘Spoons’ in action;
He brightened Upton afternoons
This virtuoso of the spoons
Fully mastering the knack
His polished rhythmic clicky clack
Achieving subtleties of tone
By clacking closer to the bone.
Held by all in great affection
Upton’s one man rhythm section
Ever present year on year
Until at last the end drew near
And so no more the spoons will sound
Down at the Riverside Campground
His epitaph should be, I guess
Here lies Spoons
E.P.N.S.
To see ‘Spoons’ in action go to:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXyl-ZSkkJI
View from the Pew 