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30 Jun 2010 2:02 AM
Yesterday, Monday, I attended one of my fortnightly Art Appreciation classes. Normally, my wife also attends the classes but, on this occasion, she was unavoidably detained.
I will not mention the name of the artist, we were studying, but I will say he had a Bohemian attitude to life and, it was stated, he was a known 'womaniser' and had lots of affairs.
When our dear friend, who researches everything that he is going to lecture on, asked the class room of mature people, in the main women, to try and describe how they felt about the rugged photo of the artist, I was very surprised to hear their reaction.
Call me old fashioned but I was not expecting older people to be so outspoken about such things, my generation were supposed to be seen and not heard and, until now, I have known the same learned 'gaggle' to be sum what 'prickly' about such matters.
I digress, one by one, the ladies spoke out about the photo and on each occasion, they appeared to be trying to outdo one another until one lady said.
'At least you would know what you were getting when you went out with him!'
There was instant laughter but there was more to come. One silver haired lady, who had been-until now- 'prim and proper,' said
'You would be lucky to keep this man's attention for more than six months but boy would it be a wonderful six months.'
The place was now in uproar and, wishing to keep apace of the quips, instead of sitting back and laughing with the rest, I decided to add my own comments.
'Excuse me,' I said from the back of the room with my hand held high like a child might do in class and in a quiet voice.
Our teacher stopped laughing and said 'Yes John, I think you have something to say.'
I gulped, took a deep breath and said (jokingly.)
'In the intermission, would someone mind telling me what is going on; my innocence-in these matters-is rather sketchy.'
The place was in uproar again and the only way the teacher could call order was to ask everybody to have a tea break.
In the room, adjacent to the one we were using, there was a water colour art class taking place and I asked the students-all mature-if they would mind if I looked at their work.
One of the students, in fact they were all ladies, was painting the most beautiful flower arrangement and I asked her for a few pointers. The lady could not have been more helpful and, after only a few minutes, I had learned a technique that had eluded me for the past six years.
When it was time to go back into the class room, to talk about the artist we were speaking about before the tea break, I thanked my new art friend and went back to where I had draped my coat over the back of the chair I was using.
I sat down in my seat, waiting for the class to start again and, on this occasion, I decided to be more serious and only asked and answered upon the things that were in the class work content.
At the end of the class, I beat a hasty exit to the loo and when I came back, a lady was waiting to speak to me. We chatted, about art in general, and we were eventually joined by a second lady.
The two women were very polite and warm hearted about the subject matter in hand and together we threw information back and forth bouncing off us like a well worn and thought out lesson plan.
In the end, the two ladies bade their leave but could not go without 'pulling my leg' about the cordial and verbal joke I played when describing my innocence to the given class subject matter.
This time, the joke was on me as one of the ladies held my arm tight and jokingly asked me if I wanted her telephone number.
We live and learn and the next time I go to the art class, without my wife, I intend to avoid getting myself into a 'tight spot' not of my making.
Knowing my luck, for I cannot be too serious about myself, I will probably be in more 'hot water' but if I wanted to have a mundane life style, I would go to the bingo or something.
Keep up the laughter it does wonders for our well being.
By for now,
John.
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