My first love, and my truest love, is the classical
world. The myths shaped my childish
imagination and the art and literature fuelled my education. The stories are so rich and vivid, and upon
reading the words Sing Muse, I am
always lifted in spirit eager to enter this ancient and wonderful world. All books should begin this way.
The Greek myths cannot be beaten in terms of wealth of
character and wealth of story. All human
life is explored, without moralising and without dilution. The gods punish and reward, they fight and
control, they make poor choices and mortals must endure the outcomes of their
actions. Allegory is made fun and
memorable. I still think of Demeter losing
her daughter Persephone every autumn, when the leaves
turn brown and Persephone must return to her husband Hades, and the earth is
barren until spring. I have yet to read
a tale of the changing seasons that is more poetic.
At the tender age of 14 I
began to truly study classical literature and art. At 17 I read it for A level and fully
indulged myself in this world four times a week for 2 years. I read Plato and Socrates, I lived the
Oresteia (so much so that felt that I had been at Troy), I studied the wonderful art.

I am currently re-reading
Ovid’s Metamorphoese for inspiration. Perhaps
I can find a section of this poem to use.
I am only in Book 1, so shall have to plough forward purposefully before
I lose momentum. Failing that I can try
to do a bodice ripper based around The Odyssey in the vein of Fifty Shades of
Grey and make the most of rosy fingered dawn.
Snigger snigger.
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