Southend U3A

January 2023

In The Lap Of The Gods - Malcolm Fyfe

In the world of today we rarely think about the ancient Gods of yesteryear, yet the Romans and Greeks, some two thousand years ago idolised them. In war time, they were venerated, appealed to for victory for the ‘cause in question’. During periods of feast or famine, perhaps to celebrate the marriage or the birth of a child, no problem, sacrifice a white bull or two, roast a reluctant pig, even a goat if they were desperate and the budget couldn’t stretch.

Problem solved and the Gods were happy.

But on occasion the gods could be warlike as in the case of Mars.

Humorous perhaps, sending a puff of wind to blow sailing ships backwards.

Spinning a weathervane so fast it blew off a temple roof. Windmills were a favourite sport for a fun-loving God.

Now, Zeus was a good example: one morning floating on his celestial cloud he woke with a bit of a hangover, he stirred, forcing open one eye and surveyed the wreckage of wine flagons, crushed grapes and vine leave and the unclaimed odd sock that littered the wispy floor.

Bacchus the god of wine had supplied the drinks for a party.

Music from Pan and his band and the company of the odd vestral virgin, but that’s another story.

His aching head had put him a right old mood and he wondered who he could annoy and peered through his big brass telescope .

He surveyed the earth, green and round, spinning, he’d been told, at about seventeen thousand miles an hour, according to some smart you know what of a ‘just passing through’ mathematician with an abacus under his arm.

Probably Aristotle or Archimedes, he thought, they weren’t Gods as such, just thought they were, ‘All that teaching and learning doesn’t do anybody much good,’ he muttered.

Now Zeus wasn’t famous for considering the consequence of his actions and was frequently in trouble.

Now, he was to set into motion a chain of events that nearly got him banned and having his thunderbolts taken away by the committee who supposedly run these things.

He reached out and selected a medium sized bolt from a basket set to one side, leaned over and lit the fuse from a glowing brazier – it’s very necessary on a cloud to keep your feet warm.

A group of soldiers were preparing a cannon for firing. Zeus wondered why, as there wasn’t a war on. Mars, he of warlike tendencies, was away stirring up some tribe or other on the other side of the world.

Taking aim, he hurled the now fizzing bolt and in seconds it bounced off the cannon, passing just a little too close to the primed touch hole. With a roar, the cannon fired, sending a red hot ball straight though the mess tent, bounced on over the field, the hot ball bounced on, coming to rest in field of ripe corn and that went up in smoke, much to the fury of Ceres, the God whose many responsibilities included growing crops.

Nearby, sitting on a horse, twirling his waxy moustache, was a rather pompous Colonel, clad in the smartest of uniform with knee length patent leather boots and a tall hat topped with a bright red Pompom. He was proud of his uniform and felt it suited his status, that of a colonel in the king’s army.

The unexpected explosion gave the horse such a fright, it took off with Colonel hanging on as it bucked and bolted down a lane and careered through one of Bacchus’s prize vineyards.

Now, Bacchus had come round, somewhat sleepily from his many indulgences at the party and was peering down with great alarm at the damage done by the Colonel’s horse rampaging about amongst the prize grapes.

His anger turned to laughter as the capering horse smelt the fresh grapes and decided to stop for a snack and in doing so threw the Colonel over a wall and into a lake.

On the other side of the lake sat Neptune, who had slipped unnoticed down to earth, seeking a decent fish for breakfast. He brushed a few remaining breadcrumbs from his trident, which he has been using as a breakfast toasting fork on one Vulcans handy little fires. Now he sat patiently, his trident at the ready, eying a brown trout. He watched it slipping along, now within range and he raised his trident ready to plunge it into the water and hopefully catch the fish.

The arrival of the Colonel’s entry into the lake headfirst somewhat ruined his morning as the trout dived for cover under a stump and a shower of water drenched him from top to toe.

Now, the terrified Colonel who, on surfacing, was coughing out weeds and pond water, found himself being prodded with a wicked looking trident and took off across the pond pursued by a rather angry Neptune.

Now, all this as the consequence of a careless Zeus.

So if you have an accident, you might catch sight of a malicious little spright grinning at you from behind a bush, those pixie like creatures who pull the rug from under your feet on occasion are the Gods little helpers. So now you know you’ve upset someone, probably on high or maybe they are having fun at your expense.