Is there such a thing as a Quaker advance? Doesn’t sound quite right really as it has military overtones; on the other hand a Quaker retreat strikes exactly the right note. So: we engaged the Friends at Woodbrooke near Bournville (home of the Cadbury family) and underwent several sessions over a two-day period including a dramatic rendering of the Worst Meeting Ever, at which the following Joke was told:
Actually before I tell you the joke I have to tell you this story: a couple of years ago I was on the BBC Saturday Live programme talking about a poem I’d written about the Bowstring Bridge. Well, the same people emailed me again about a message I’d sent them concerning my bags made out of videotape. Hang on, have I actually told you about these? I’d better check. Don’t want to be repeating myself.
I can’t find a reference so let’s assume I haven’t mentioned them. Well: imagine, if you will, a bag knitted from shiny black seaweed and you get the general idea. You crack open a videotape box, take out the shiny black tape, wind it up into balls and start knitting. Once I’ve knitted a strip large enough to make a bag, say, 6 in by 8, I cast off. Then I sew on the lining, plait three strands to make a strap; cover the strap with a fabric sleeve and sew the whole thing together. Voila! The resulting ensemble is so striking and beautiful that they are now on sale in ‘All About Daisy’ in Clarendon Park, a shop dedicated to selling goods made from recycled materials:
So: when they had an item about hobbies on Saturday Live, I sent off a quick email. Didn’t get on the programme but there was a message waiting when I got back, so I called and had a very interesting chat with one of the producers who seemed interested in doing an item with JP Devlin, possibly involving a home visit!!!
Watch this space…
More of Quaker retreat anon. oh, but before I go I have to tell you the joke.
Three pieces of string walk into a bar. The first piece of string walks up to the counter and the barman says:
‘Are you a piece of string?’
‘Yes,’ says the piece of string.
‘Well, we don’t serve pieces of string in here,’ says the barman. ‘Get out.’
The second piece of string walks up to the bar. ‘Are you a piece of string?’ asks the barman.
‘I am,’ says the second piece.
‘Well I told your mate already, we don’t serve pieces of string in here. Get out.’
The third piece of string is a little older. He is ragged top and bottom and thick around the middle. He waddles up to the bar where the barman eyes him in disbelief. ‘Are you a piece of string as well?’ he asks.
‘No,’ says the string. ‘I’m a frayed knot.’
It works better when spoken…