Monday, September 13, 2010

The Wreck of the Hespress


Today I when I woke up I took one look at the Monday self and said four words: Wreck Of The Hespress.  Throughout my bunny life, when I looked like I did this morning mum would sigh and say:
“Rabbit!  You look like the Wreck of the Hespress!”
And when The Love or the Bunny Sister or any of the other characters looked or felt similarly I would also say:
“Dear oh dear!  You look like the Wreck of the Hespress!”
Once when the J-Bunny knocked on the door and she’d just had her heart broken I said:
“Come in poor darling!  You look like the Wreck of The Hespress!”
I always knew what the Wreck of the Hespress was, how it felt, sounded, tasted.  It was all-over-the-place, messy, crooked, uncomfortable, a hopeless case, a wanton woman, a slapped tart from the 80s, a rampant junkie, a man who crawled out of a bin, the floozy from school with wild artfully punk sprayed fronds, the huge grumpy weed in the garden that’s as high as my head, the smutty, whacked-up, bashed-up, nasty, foul-mouthed, dread-locked, slutty-knickered, feisty, raging, over-haired, car crash of a person.  I knew what the Wreck of the Hespress was.  But I realised today as I stood appalled in front of the mirror, I never knew what it was.  
So I googled it.
The Wreck of the Hesperus was a shipwreck.
This is what it looked like:









I wonder where mum got it from.  Was it one of those things that got handed down from her mum?  Without her ever quite knowing what it was?  You know how you adopt those things that you don’t always understand and say them anyway? 
For fact’s sake, the Wreck of the Hesperus is a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow about a proud sea captain who takes his daughter on his ship and because the captain is so proud he ignores some weather guy’s warning about a big hurricane coming and there’s a terrible storm and the captain ties his daughter to the mast to try to save her and then they have a massive shipwreck and the next day the captain finds his daughter still attached to the mast, dead, drifting in the surf.
It was a pretty bad shipwreck, the Hesperus.  All terror and upheaval, wild crookedness, violence… a lot like your Rabbit in the mornings.  Mum was right.  But I still wonder how she knew about it.  Did she read the poem?  She couldn’t have googled it. 
I see that Wreck of the Hesperus is also an Irish doom metal band. 
















And that definitely fits.

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