The Portrait

Place: a picnic table outside Lady Nascent's Estate, The Village

Those involved:

Jean Day, who writes mainly historical and family history books

John, poet, writes mainly about lost love

Gerard, professional writer, who drops into the village occasionally. He writes mostly Irish historical plays and plays for radio.

Peter, writes mainly crime and adventure books

Val, writes poetry

Brian, from Australia, writes mainly poetry

Wendy, writes mainly poetry

Jane, from Nottingham, writes plays and short stories

Jack, ex army snake charmer from Florida, writes mostly about his army experiences

 

All are assembled and seated around the picnic table. 

Jean: Hi, everyone. Thank you for coming. I've invited you here today because I need your help.

As you probably know, I recently moved house, and in shifting things around in the attic, I  had an accident with a family portrait and pretty much ruined it. It belonged to my husband's family and I'm feeling rather guilty about it. So I wrote a poem about it - to sort of, you know - make up for it. Here it is. Tell me what you think.

(She hands around copies of the poem. A minute's pause while they all read it.)

Dear Martha Banyer Trew

I'm afraid the story's true

I did put a hole through

Your portrait.

 

Two centuries it has hung

Your memory has clung

And now I have to bung

Your portrait.

 

For history, it is true

In Seventeen Ninety-Two

You were born and there you grew

In Norfolk

 

In Axbridge, you then lived

You married, had a kid

He married, had a kid

One Louisa.

 

Louisa married well

A grocer, but as well

The mayor of the swell

In Worcester.

 

Their only daughter wed

Harold Day who said

He'd like to farm and bed

In Rutland

 

His oldest son was Jan

Jan's oldest son, my man

Who inherited with a plan

Your portrait.

 

Your four times great grand kid

Will know that I got rid

EBay won't get a bid

On your portrait.

 

Sorry.

 

Jack: Well, it made me laugh. Was it supposed to do that?

Jean: I guess it's sort of funny, in a way. But my main motivation was to show how the portrait had been important down the decades - to loads of people, who, of course, are now dead. I feel like I've let them down.

Jack: Damage don't end the world. Or despair. The world ends when you're dead. Your world ain't ended. You know it. That's all that matters.

Gerard: Jean, Jean, Jean - this is by far the worst poem I've ever read.

Jack: Don't know much about poetry, the schemes, the rhythms, humma, humma. Don't think they matter much.

Gerard: You had your say already, so let me finish. I made myself read it three times, and in the end, I suppose I could allow it a small amount of merit. But Jean, you are such a good prose writer. This is really not your forte at all. And if I read between the lines, I rather think you didn't have a very high regard for the portrait and maybe are quite pleased that it’s damaged and you can get rid of
it.

Jean: I suppose you're right Gerard.  But I do thank you for reading it three times and saying it has some merit. And you're right. I've never liked the portrait.

Brian: I could have said that it's totally naive and the meter is way off, and I could also comment on the social situations that you allude to in it. It has no acknowledged format at all, but there is a charm to it.

Jean: Sorry Brian. I know that my work is nowhere near the quality of yours, but I did try my best.

Brian: You completely misunderstood me, Jean. I like it. I like it because it is naive and unconventional.

Jean: Are you sure? I knew it wasn't good poetry.

Val: In my humble opinion, lines 22 and 27 don't scan very well.

Jean: I think when you read it out loud, you can make it scan - by sort of slurring some words together.

John: The poem was good. I sort of enjoyed it. But I couldn't read it aloud without awkwardness. But then who am I to judge. You said you wrote this on the spur of the moment after you wrecked the portrait. I also write impulsively without technique, and I'm beginning to learn from that!

Wendy: I too liked the poem, Jean. It isn't conventional - but so what. Usually in your work it's the little details, the wry observations that I like, but there isn't much of that in this.

Jane: This was quite easy to read and you kept things moving at a brisk pace. You have set up a story of sorts, and created a bit of a hook. It sort of brought in the historical aspect of the portrait - which I know is your main area of interest.

Jean: Thanks everybody. It is always nice to hear what you have to say. And you have made me think. Maybe I should write a story or a play about the Portrait. Then I can bring in all the people I allude to in the poem, and show how the portrait was reverenced down the decades - until I had my latest accident.

Peter: Good idea. Whatever you write, I'm sure it will be okay. But I do think your prose is much better than your poetry.

Jean: That's what I will do then. I'll write it as a play, and see what you think of it.