Sometimes, one is just out of place.
We’ve all been there.
Square peg in a round hole, we stick out like a sore thumb; and our whole demeanour shouts awkward. The song puts it so well.
So there I was, strolling through the Ashmolean, looking at the history of mankind with undisguised awe, when I happened upon a glass case with a range of objects in it from Very Ancient Cyprus. I’m talking second millenmium BC here.
Jugs and juglets, bowls with wishbone handles, ancient red and grey clay arranged there for us all to goggle at.
And there she was, in the centre of the display:
They don’t even know who she was, poor soul. They hazard Astarte, the Cypriot Aphrodite. But she could be called Mavis for all they really know.
To her chagrin, they may not know her name but they know her age. She was born between 1450 and 1200 BC. That’s a lot of face cream, let me tell you.
My days are busy, my wordage low, but I feel we should honour her with a caption today. I wonder what she is saying?