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Isabel Trent



Sep 1, 05 - 4:52 AM
Scrabble at Albatross House

This evening at Albatross House we played Scrabble: an amusement hardly calculated to suffuse its players with sisterly love and set their veins flowing with the milk of human kindness. Throats tighten. Hands tremble. Wounded glances fly across the table. The air hums with tension. Private vows are made that if that dreadful cheat tries one more made-up Latin word... if that appalling sneak invades the place on the board one has carefully selected for one's own next brilliant coup...

The only game I know that inspires greater melodrama than Scrabble is Mah Jong. I ought to know, having been a cut-throat player of it since the age of six. Summer afternoons in my grandmother's garden -- the click of Bakelite tiles, the deep green of her favourite glasses from the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, the soft scents of elm leaves and lily of the valley and the newly-mown lawn -- remembering it all makes me feel so very mortal and accidental. Ahem. Scrabble. Yes.

Dreadful letters, approaching bedtimes and a mutual complete lack of imagination convinced us to give up fairly early on. But I thought you girls might get a giggle out of the ridiculous mess we got ourselves into, which nonetheless has a distinctly Aristasian character.

And do please note that when play ceased, yours truly was 83 points ahead!
Princess Mushroom



Sep 1st, 2005 - 6:44 PM
Re: Scrabble at Albatross House

One of the most cut-throat games imaginable is croquet. Despite its genteel image, it is positively vicious and the practice (perfectly legal) of whacking one's friends' balls off the green tends to cause considerable consternation. The fact that Arcadiennes play it regularly and remain friends is a further proof of their well-known saintliness.
Isabel Trent



Sep 1st, 2005 - 8:22 PM
Re: Scrabble at Albatross House

These days, any mention of croquet reminds me poignantly of the first page of The Unstrung Harp by Mr Edward Gorey, a little book which you all ought to read without further ado. Its ghastly reality will strike a chord especially with the writers in our midst.




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