ScreenSingapore is the Place to Be

A page from my grandmother’s Changi memoir.

The New York Times reports today that Hollywood is going International (well, we all know that)and mentions a new film festival ScreenSingapore that illustrates the point.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/23/business/media/23film-screensingapore.html?_r=1&nl=todaysheadlines&emc=tha210

Hollywood Presses its Global Agenda

My radio play, Looking for Mrs. Peel at www.tighsolas.ca/page3.pdf.pdf

is popular in Singapore, because it takes place in Singapore during WWII. It starts out in Canada in 1967, when the sun was setting on the British Empire, and it focuses on my grandmother’s story. I like to see my grandmother (who was born in County Durham but lived most of her life in Kuala Lumpur) as the symbol of End of Empire.

The Changi Story has been done to death, starting with Kwai, but the Double Tenth Torture Incident is VERY topical. Many people arrive at my website looking for information on the Double Tenth, many from Singapore but plenty from elsewhere. Indeed, I have learned that the the Trial of Sumida Haruzo is a Law School Classic.

That book would make a good topical movie, but it wouldn’t be fun visually. My story, that encompasses Expo 67 with all the youth culture and beautiful hostesses would be very pretty to look at – for the first bit.

The part where my grandmother is put in solitary is also topical, considering the treatment of Bradley Manning.

As I pointed out in my play, Malaya was one of the first Multicultural Societies. Canada in 1967 was just beginning its multicultural adventure.

I like to think Expo 67 (which figures large in my play) symbolizes this.

The New York Times article quotes Greg Coote, who is the Chairman of the Board of Screen Singapore as saying that ScreenSingapore is a cross beween ShoWest and CineExpo and the Santa Monica Festival.

Alas.

This can only be good news for us North Americans, who are starved for world films. Maybe some more good ones will come our way.

The first ScreenSingapore event will feature Jon Landau, who produced Avatar,for a 3-D conference; Jim Gianopulos, chairman and chief executive of Fox Filmed Entertainment; and Michael J. Werner, the chairman of Fortissimo Films

Looking for mrs. Peel 4: Working for The Expo

Scene Eight: Nixon Living Room Following day

SOUND: clink of glass on glass, running water, background noise of children on street

Dorothy: (singin) R.E.S.P.E.CT: find out what it means to me.

Dorothy vo: The morning after I empty and wash a dozen ashtrays. The black square obsidian astray; the spotty green Bavarian blown glass one ;the tacky affair shaped like a sea shell from Old Orchard Beach, Maine; the clunky see-through job stamped with the Molson Export Ale logo. Among other classic 60’s designs.

Granny: Martha. Did you see the little yellow Bakelite ashtray? I’m sure I put it by my chair.

Martha: Dorothy must have moved it. It’s her job to clean up after parties. Here’s a nice one with the Rocky Mountains on it.

Granny: No, I prefer the Bakelite one. It fits nicely into my hand.

Martha: Dorothy! Where’s the little yellow ashtray?

Dorothy: (afar) In the hall, on the telephone table, where you like it.

Martha: Well, get it and give it to your grandmother. Right now!

Granny: And Martha, would you shut that window. The racket those Canadian children make. They shout and shriek all day.I’m used to the gentle Malay children at play.

Martha: Certainment (Sx SLAM OF WINDOW SHUTTING)

Scene Nine: Nixon Duplex Another day.

SOUND: French Radio. ID: Ici Radio Canada. Thunder rumblings
Woman on radio: De Gaulle n’a pas le droit de se melanger dans nos affaires…

Dorothy vo: My mother begins to invent excellent reasons during the day to escape.

Martha : (on phone) Vive le Quebec libre. Quelle gros espece de serpent. Je descend dans deux minutes.(sx clack of receiver being replaced)

Dorothy vo: Leaving me trapped alone with my grandmother

Martha: I’m going to Mme. Dufour’s for a visit. Take care of your grandmother.

Dorothy: Where’s Mark?

Martha: He’s gone to Rickie’s to play that Pepper album on his new stereo. (sx slam of door)

(Sx Radio background: That was The Mammas and the Pappas. San Francisco or be sure to wear flowers in your hair. Next, a new crossover song by Bobby Gentry (new promo) The Buddy G Thing: every night from 4-9. On CKGM. It’s what happening. So Glob on.)

Dorothy VO: Bakelite ashtray in her left hand, Rothman’s unfiltered in her right, the cranky old crone paces up and down our cramped apartment , absurdly overdressed for late July in black stretch pants and a thick brown turtleneck sweater. Her boobs sag almost to her knees like two spent balloons and her bum is wide and flat like a giant burnt pancake.She shuffles past the dining room where I sit cross-legged on my cot stroking my library books: Ring of Bright Water, Born Free, King of the Wind and Silent Spring, all about animals,all borrowed from the NDG Library for boys and girls, all books I’ve taken out many times before, and listening to music on my brother’s battered Realtone transistor radio.

(Sx Wonderbra jingle: Back ground music:To be free and alive, everywhere that you go.Is to wear what you dare anywhere and to travel with flair and style that will show wherever you go…)

She veers right into the adjacent living room taking eight more slouching steps to the window, and pauses for a spell,above Mummy’s mildewed African Violet on the sill. She scowls at the wind tossed branches of the Maple outdoors. She taps her cigarette ash into the little yellow dish in her opposite hand, then she whips around to look me in the eyes,through the crack in the French doors separating the rooms, the very moment a bolt of lightning rips open the murky slice of Montreal sky behind her. (Sx Thunder) She opens her miserable marionnette-lined mouth as if she is going to speak

Granny: What are yoooou reaaaad…?

Dorothy (vo)but I’m saved by the bell, or more precisely by the buzzer

(Sx DOOR BUZZER. Sound of quick quick steps closing in
Ingrid: Here’s the Tiger Beat you wanted back, the one with Illya and Herman’s Hermits.

Dorothy: Can you stay and play a bit?

Ingrid: No, my Auntie Pryanka is here from India. We’re teaching her to walk in high heels. What a riot! Is that your grandmother?

Dorothy: Yep.

Ingrid: She’s a real sun-baked bag of wrinkles. What’s with the frown?

Dorothy: What are you doing?

Ingrid: Playing Monkey See Monkey Do. Have I got the scowl right? The hunchback?

Dorothy: Don’t imitate her like that. She’ll see!

Dorothy: What does she have eyes at the back of her head too?

Scene Ten: Nixon Kitchen. Some days later

SOUND: Whir of Mixmaster

Dorothy vo: And then the old lady oversteps even a visiting mother in law’s prerogative.

Martha: Dorothy, come and lick the beaters. Oh, I meant the other Dorothy of course.

Granny: What are you making?

Martha: Shoofly Pie. Dorothy’s favorite. Sugar and spice and everything nice. And French Chocolate Cake. My specialty. 6 eggs and ¾ of a pound of butter.

Granny: No wonder your kids have spots. 6 eggs! What an appalling waste.

Martha: Do you know what I find wasteful. 40 ounces of gin a week!

Scene Eleven: Outside Nixon Master Bedroom
SOUND: muffled arguing. Heaving breathing

Dorothy vo: Generally my mother prefers to air her complaints out in the open, French Canadian style. This closed door business is new to me.

Martha: (muffled) I’m sick of playing happy hostess to your mother. Take her out sometimes, at night.

Peter: grumble

Martha: I know this is your busiest time. But sometimes I think you are just making excuses. Why not go to dinner at Bill Wong’s or Ruby Foo’s. She likes the Chinese so much. Or get tickets to one of those fancy Centennial galas. You work for the Expo. Mon Dieu. Pull some strings!

Peter: grumble

Martha: What a thing to say. Everyone loves their mother. It’s only natural.And you haven’t seen her in 30 years, when she took that fameux bateau de banane steerage to visit you in school in England. It’s not her fault you ignored her letters after the war.

Looking For Mrs. Peel Complete play pdf

Looking for Mrs. Peel 3: Smoke Under the Door

Dorothy Nixon: My grandmother, secretary of the Kuala Lumpur Book Club, Changi Double Tenth Incident Survivor.

Scene Four: Lemon Creek Living Room

SOUND: Announcer on radio

Announcer: ( This is Roger Scott broadcasting live on location from Expo 67 Or Girl Watching Central.( sx cheesy wolf whistle sound effect) Everywhere you turn a gorgeous young thing in a sarong, sari, or kimono. Still it takes more than a beautiful face and perfect proportions to be a hostess at the fair. All 240 Official Expo hostesses speak both English and French…and have some college; And lucky me,in a minute, I get to interview two leggy birds from the British Pavilion whose miniskirts are the envy of all the Expo hostesses, (ID. CFOX. MontreeeeALL The Island City) But first this word from Clairol.Who writes this shit?

(sx radio: Sad-sack women’s voice: Oily hair?? My hair is so oily this big man from Texas came up and asked if he could invest. PSSSt. Good news for you; fade)

Marthe: Mark. Dorothy. Come to the window. They’ve found a parking space right in front.

Dorothy Vo: She is small. Very very small. With a broken down sparrow body, the high forehead and steely gaze of a chicken hawk and a giant square chin just like that Tasmanian Devil on TV. Her hair is snow white and short cropped. My tall tall father shyly takes her little birdy hand as she materializes onto the sidewalk from the rusty cocoon of our Austin Cambridge car. With my fine-tuned daughterly radar I can sense that despite his big bones and broad shoulders, my dad is the one feeling very very small.

Dorothy: I bet Granny’s never seen anything like Madame Dufour’s pink Thunderbird with the wings at back.

Mark: They’re fins, tail fins, not wings.

Dorothy: I bet they don’t even have cars in Malaya. Bunga’s father doesn’t drive!

Mark: No they travel by rickshaw and elephant, mostly.

Dorothy vo: My peregrine progenitor has to pause three times to catch her breath as she climbs the 18 or so freshly swept stairs to our second story 5 and a half.

Marthe: Don’t crowd the door.

Peter: (Indistinct grumble)

Martha: Dorothy, so pleased to finally meet you. This is Mark,our eldest and, this, of course is “my” Dorothy, or String Bean as we call her. (whispers: Mark:HO HO HO Green Giant. Dorothy:Shut up Mark)

Granny: Oh, Martha. What enormous children you have

Martha: Well, I am very proud of my cooking. I am French.

Daddy: (growl)

Martha: Mark, help your dad bring up your grandmother’s suitcases. Dorothy, you must be exhausted. Let me show you your room.(fade) I hope you like the colour yellow, we bought new curtains for your visit. And we finally found a store that sells yogurt, so you can have your usual breakfast in bed.

Granny: Oh, you needn’t have bothered.

Scene Five: Nixon Living Room

SOUND: Drone of TV. (CFCF 12 Montreal)

Man on TV: Good Evening.I am Pierre Berton. Last month the Australian Rock Group, the Seekers, sang at Expo67 and their performance was broadcast live to over 70,000,000 people worldwide by Telstar satellite. Newton N. Minow, the US Broadcast Regulator (who famously called Television a “vast wasteland” back in 1961) claims that satellite technology, will, in the long run, have more of an impact than space technology, because spaceships only send men into space while satellites will send ideas into space. Our special guest today is Marshall McLuhan, University of Toronto professor …fade

Dorothy vo: A few days later, Granny, recently retired colonial librarian, lectures my older brother on a point of media literacy.

Mark: When Bridge on the River Kwai played on TV, the next day everyone at school was whistling (whistles tune) I told them my grandfather helped build that bridge.

Granny: Oh Mark. Don’t believe anything you see in the cinema. It’s all bosch. If you – and your sister – come to visit me in Malaysia I’ll let you read some first hand accounts. Many of my good friends died on that beastly Thai Burma Railroad. Yes, many friends, British, Chinese, Malay and Indian.

Dorothy: When I go can I have a mongoose like Riki Tikki Tavi ? I don’t want to be gobbled up by a King Cobra like Daddy’s dog. And I don’t want lizard tails to fall into my oatmeal. No way. And I don’t want to see a monkey being killed, because they cry just like human babies, Dad says.
Granny: Girl. Whatever are you chattering about? What tall tales has your father been telling you?

Dorothy vo: So, I decide to ignore my grandmother, which is easy as it is Canada’s Centennial year and those magical Expo islands are only a short bus and metro ride away. (sx Mexican mariachi band. Israeli fiddle; Trinidad steel drums). Expo, with its mishmash of experimental eye-candy architecture,is better than real life, anyway, a mind bending multi-national experience, McLuhan’s Global Village in giant size diorama. I lope miles over the macadam on my long giraffe legs and queue for hours in line in the wilting humidity,(or biting wind or freezing drizzle, whatever the 6 month Expo season serves up)to gawk at cultural signifiers like wallabies and totem poles and scorched space capsules and visit “the future” with its talking robots and video phones, and uncluttered modular dwelling places. At the International Broadcasting Center, around the corner from where my father works, I see how radio programs are produced (in tiny little rooms) and learn that it takes a mile of tape to make an hour of TV.
When my senses get overwhelmed I visit the Australian Pavilion to sink my burning toes into the decadent deep wool carpet there, or I escape to the near people-free garden behind the glittering geodesic dome of the American Pavilion to lie down in the prickly grass, by some mini waterfall, often the lone fleshly figure amid the park’s many bizarre Cezanne-inspired sculptures. But not always

Scene 5 1/2 Park at Expo
(sx) water, wind

Dorothy: I like your lipstick. What colour is it?

Woman: Blue Surf by Yardley. The London Look

Dorothy: Yardley opens your eyes.

Woman:Huh?

Dorothy: That’s their slogan – in Mademoiselle oh

Dorothy I like your white Go Go boots too

Woman: Oh, they are part of my uniform.

Dorothy Uniform?

Woman: I’m a hostess at the Kaleidoscope Pavilion

Dorothy: You are a beauty queen then. The TV said every hostess at Kaleidoscope is a beauty queen. .

Woman; They exaggerate. I was a contestant in the Miss Canada Pageant, that’s all.

Dorothy:That’s pretty good

Woman: Yea, that’s pretty good

Dorothy: What are you reading? Beooo

Woman: Beautiful Losers

Dorothy: Is it good?

Woman: Sort of. It’s by Leonard Cohen. He’s from Westmount, you know

Dorothy: Read me a bit

Woman: No. It’s too grown up for you. But I can recite the words to Suzanne for you.. Have you heard the song on the radio?

Dorothy Sort of

Woman: Well Suzanne was a poem before it was a song. We studied it in literature class. Suzanne takes you down. Beside the still water..

Dorothy:Sorry.I gotta go and meet my brother. We were watching movies at the Cuban Pavilion. About the Revolution. But I got bored.

Dorothy VO:I do watch dozens of other movies at Expo67, much much happier movies. Multi-screen movies, interactive movies, movies that surround the audience 360 degrees and movies where the stage- and audience- move around the screen. Movies where the medium is the message. Movies that teach about point of view. And sometimes, on the site, if I hear the sound of polite applause rippling my way I know a major movie star or world celebrity is soon to rise up out of the ether. Twiggy? Princess Grace?

Scene Six: Expo 67

SOUND: wave of applause, growing louder

Martha: Look! It’s Bobby Kennedy and his family.

Dorothy: Where?

Martha: Over there.

Dorothy: I can’t see anything except his golden hair. All those men in black

Martha: Those are his secret service agents. He has a lot of protection. He has to have.

Scene Seven: Nixon Living Room

SOUND: background cocktail party chatter. coughing in background

Dorothy VO: Returning home I wolf down a savory pot au feu and catch a summer rerun of a favorite TV show, the Man from UNCLE, and drop with numb knees onto my little cot. My father, an accountant for the Fair Commission, works late most nights, so my mother tackles a second shift, entertaining Granny, who fairly crackles with charisma in the company of grownups, especially men.

Granny: Yes, Martha. A double scotch would be fine. We made our own amusements in those days. Dances at the Royal Selangor Club,in the Reading Room on Saturdays. Cricket on the padang. Once I was given a polo pony by the Sultan of Jahore’s son Bu. For keeping him on the straight and narrow, before a match. And, I was the only woman ever allowed into the men’s bar at the Club, as Selangor’s official cricket scorer; and in 1953 I was actually filmed scoring a match in a March of Time newsreel about the Emergency. Millions saw me.

Man: (chortle. grunt.)

Granny: The children were in England, at school.

Man: HUH?

Granny. Of course I missed them. But duty called – and my duty was to my husband. Still, during the Depression I travelled steerage to England on a banana boat just to see them.

Man: Grumble Granny: If you are referring to Somerset Maugham, I must warn you. He has painted a rather unflattering portrait of colonials. In my opinion he’s a misogynist. He hates women.

Martha: I know what misogynist means. I was taught both Greek and Latin at the College Marguerite Bourgeoys. Jules, did I tell you about my visit on the Royal Yacht Britannia. Il ya deux semaines. The Queen was in Halifax and the boat had to go back and get her. Meanwhile Peter and I were invited to a soiree on board, on June 28, I think. Well, the lights were off deckside and there were frogmen in the water and a crewman asked me why I wanted to kill the Queen. I said, “I don’t want to kill the the Queen. I’m not a maudite separatist. He said he didn’t care one way or da udder because he was Welsh.

Granny: Ah, what an appalling thing to say, even in jest.

Dorothy: (coughing) Mummy, I can’t sleep. The smoke is coming in under the door.

Martha: I’ll open annuder window.

Looking For Mrs. Peel Complete play pdf

Looking For Mrs. Peel 4: Sun-baked bag of Wrinkles

Scene Eight: Nixon Living Room Following day

SOUND: clink of glass on glass, running water, background noise of children on street

Dorothy: (singin) R.E.S.P.E.CT: find out what it means to me.

Dorothy vo: The morning after I empty and wash a dozen ashtrays. The black square obsidian astray; the spotty green Bavarian blown glass one ;the tacky affair shaped like a sea shell from Old Orchard Beach, Maine; the clunky see-through job stamped with the Molson Export Ale logo. Among other classic 60’s designs.

Granny: Martha. Did you see the little yellow Bakelite ashtray? I’m sure I put it by my chair.

Martha: Dorothy must have moved it. It’s her job to clean up after parties. Here’s a nice one with the Rocky Mountains on it.

Granny: No, I prefer the Bakelite one. It fits nicely into my hand.

Martha: Dorothy! Where’s the little yellow ashtray?

Dorothy: (afar) In the hall, on the telephone table, where you like it.

Martha: Well, get it and give it to your grandmother. Right now!

Granny: And Martha, would you shut that window. The racket those Canadian children make. They shout and shriek all day.I’m used to the gentle Malay children at play.

Martha: Certainment (Sx SLAM OF WINDOW SHUTTING)

Scene Nine: Nixon Duplex Another day.

SOUND: French Radio. ID: Ici Radio Canada. Thunder rumblings
Woman on radio: De Gaulle n’a pas le droit de se melanger dans nos affaires…

Dorothy vo: My mother begins to invent excellent reasons during the day to escape.

Martha : (on phone) Vive le Quebec libre. Quelle gros espece de serpent. Je descend dans deux minutes.(sx clack of receiver being replaced)

Dorothy vo: Leaving me trapped alone with my grandmother

Martha: I’m going to Mme. Dufour’s for a visit. Take care of your grandmother.

Dorothy: Where’s Mark?

Martha: He’s gone to Rickie’s to play that Pepper album on his new stereo. (sx slam of door)

(Sx Radio background: That was The Mammas and the Pappas. San Francisco or be sure to wear flowers in your hair. Next, a new crossover song by Bobby Gentry (new promo) The Buddy G Thing: every night from 4-9. On CKGM. It’s what happening. So Glob on.)

Dorothy VO: Bakelite ashtray in her left hand, Rothman’s unfiltered in her right, the cranky old crone paces up and down our cramped apartment , absurdly overdressed for late July in black stretch pants and a thick brown turtleneck sweater. Her boobs sag almost to her knees like two spent balloons and her bum is wide and flat like a giant burnt pancake.She shuffles past the dining room where I sit cross-legged on my cot stroking my library books: Ring of Bright Water, Born Free, King of the Wind and Silent Spring, all about animals,all borrowed from the NDG Library for boys and girls, all books I’ve taken out many times before, and listening to music on my brother’s battered Realtone transistor radio.

(Sx Wonderbra jingle: Back ground music:To be free and alive, everywhere that you go.Is to wear what you dare anywhere and to travel with flair and style that will show wherever you go…)

She veers right into the adjacent living room taking eight more slouching steps to the window, and pauses for a spell,above Mummy’s mildewed African Violet on the sill. She scowls at the wind tossed branches of the Maple outdoors. She taps her cigarette ash into the little yellow dish in her opposite hand, then she whips around to look me in the eyes,through the crack in the French doors separating the rooms, the very moment a bolt of lightning rips open the murky slice of Montreal sky behind her. (Sx Thunder) She opens her miserable marionnette-lined mouth as if she is going to speak

Granny: What are yoooou reaaaad…?

Dorothy (vo)but I’m saved by the bell, or more precisely by the buzzer

(Sx DOOR BUZZER. Sound of quick quick steps closing in
Ingrid: Here’s the Tiger Beat you wanted back, the one with Illya and Herman’s Hermits.

Dorothy: Can you stay and play a bit?

Ingrid: No, my Auntie Pryanka is here from India. We’re teaching her to walk in high heels. What a riot! Is that your grandmother?

Dorothy: Yep.

Ingrid: She’s a real sun-baked bag of wrinkles. What’s with the frown?

Dorothy: What are you doing?

Ingrid: Playing Monkey See Monkey Do. Have I got the scowl right? The hunchback?

Dorothy: Don’t imitate her like that. She’ll see!

Dorothy: What does she have eyes at the back of her head too?

Scene Ten: Nixon Kitchen. Some days later

SOUND: Whir of Mixmaster

Dorothy vo: And then the old lady oversteps even a visiting mother in law’s prerogative.

Martha: Dorothy, come and lick the beaters. Oh, I meant the other Dorothy of course.

Granny: What are you making?

Martha: Shoofly Pie. Dorothy’s favorite. Sugar and spice and everything nice. And French Chocolate Cake. My specialty. 6 eggs and ¾ of a pound of butter.

Granny: No wonder your kids have spots. 6 eggs! What an appalling waste.

Martha: Do you know what I find wasteful. 40 ounces of gin a week!

Scene Eleven: Outside Nixon Master Bedroom
SOUND: muffled arguing. Heaving breathing

Dorothy vo: Generally my mother prefers to air her complaints out in the open, French Canadian style. This closed door business is new to me.

Martha: (muffled) I’m sick of playing happy hostess to your mother. Take her out sometimes, at night.

Peter: grumble

Martha: I know this is your busiest time. But sometimes I think you are just making excuses. Why not go to dinner at Bill Wong’s or Ruby Foo’s. She likes the Chinese so much. Or get tickets to one of those fancy Centennial galas. You work for the Expo. Mon Dieu. Pull some strings!

Peter: grumble

Martha: What a thing to say. Everyone loves their mother. It’s only natural.And you haven’t seen her in 30 years, when she took that fameux bateau de banane steerage to visit you in school in England. It’s not her fault you ignored her letters after the war.

Looking For Mrs. Peel Complete play pdf

Looking for Mrs. Peel 3:Kill the Queen?

Dorothy Nixon: My grandmother, secretary of the Kuala Lumpur Book Club, Changi Double Tenth Incident Survivor.

Scene Four: Lemon Creek Living Room

SOUND: Announcer on radio

Announcer: ( This is Roger Scott broadcasting live on location from Expo 67 Or Girl Watching Central.( sx cheesy wolf whistle sound effect) Everywhere you turn a gorgeous young thing in a sarong, sari, or kimono. Still it takes more than a beautiful face and perfect proportions to be a hostess at the fair. All 240 Official Expo hostesses speak both English and French…and have some college; And lucky me,in a minute, I get to interview two leggy birds from the British Pavilion whose miniskirts are the envy of all the Expo hostesses, (ID. CFOX. MontreeeeALL The Island City) But first this word from Clairol.Who writes this shit?

(sx radio: Sad-sack women’s voice: Oily hair?? My hair is so oily this big man from Texas came up and asked if he could invest. PSSSt. Good news for you; fade)

Marthe: Mark. Dorothy. Come to the window. They’ve found a parking space right in front.

Dorothy Vo: She is small. Very very small. With a broken down sparrow body, the high forehead and steely gaze of a chicken hawk and a giant square chin just like that Tasmanian Devil on TV. Her hair is snow white and short cropped. My tall tall father shyly takes her little birdy hand as she materializes onto the sidewalk from the rusty cocoon of our Austin Cambridge car. With my fine-tuned daughterly radar I can sense that despite his big bones and broad shoulders, my dad is the one feeling very very small.

Dorothy: I bet Granny’s never seen anything like Madame Dufour’s pink Thunderbird with the wings at back.

Mark: They’re fins, tail fins, not wings.

Dorothy: I bet they don’t even have cars in Malaya. Bunga’s father doesn’t drive!

Mark: No they travel by rickshaw and elephant, mostly.

Dorothy vo: My peregrine progenitor has to pause three times to catch her breath as she climbs the 18 or so freshly swept stairs to our second story 5 and a half.

Marthe: Don’t crowd the door.

Peter: (Indistinct grumble)

Martha: Dorothy, so pleased to finally meet you. This is Mark,our eldest and, this, of course is “my” Dorothy, or String Bean as we call her. (whispers: Mark:HO HO HO Green Giant. Dorothy:Shut up Mark)

Granny: Oh, Martha. What enormous children you have

Martha: Well, I am very proud of my cooking. I am French.

Daddy: (growl)

Martha: Mark, help your dad bring up your grandmother’s suitcases. Dorothy, you must be exhausted. Let me show you your room.(fade) I hope you like the colour yellow, we bought new curtains for your visit. And we finally found a store that sells yogurt, so you can have your usual breakfast in bed.

Granny: Oh, you needn’t have bothered.

Scene Five: Nixon Living Room

SOUND: Drone of TV. (CFCF 12 Montreal)

Man on TV: Good Evening.I am Pierre Berton. Last month the Australian Rock Group, the Seekers, sang at Expo67 and their performance was broadcast live to over 70,000,000 people worldwide by Telstar satellite. Newton N. Minow, the US Broadcast Regulator (who famously called Television a “vast wasteland” back in 1961) claims that satellite technology, will, in the long run, have more of an impact than space technology, because spaceships only send men into space while satellites will send ideas into space. Our special guest today is Marshall McLuhan, University of Toronto professor …fade

Dorothy vo: A few days later, Granny, recently retired colonial librarian, lectures my older brother on a point of media literacy.

Mark: When Bridge on the River Kwai played on TV, the next day everyone at school was whistling (whistles tune) I told them my grandfather helped build that bridge.

Granny: Oh Mark. Don’t believe anything you see in the cinema. It’s all bosch. If you – and your sister – come to visit me in Malaysia I’ll let you read some first hand accounts. Many of my good friends died on that beastly Thai Burma Railroad. Yes, many friends, British, Chinese, Malay and Indian.

Dorothy: When I go can I have a mongoose like Riki Tikki Tavi ? I don’t want to be gobbled up by a King Cobra like Daddy’s dog. And I don’t want lizard tails to fall into my oatmeal. No way. And I don’t want to see a monkey being killed, because they cry just like human babies, Dad says.
Granny: Girl. Whatever are you chattering about? What tall tales has your father been telling you?

Dorothy vo: So, I decide to ignore my grandmother, which is easy as it is Canada’s Centennial year and those magical Expo islands are only a short bus and metro ride away. (sx Mexican mariachi band. Israeli fiddle; Trinidad steel drums). Expo, with its mishmash of experimental eye-candy architecture,is better than real life, anyway, a mind bending multi-national experience, McLuhan’s Global Village in giant size diorama. I lope miles over the macadam on my long giraffe legs and queue for hours in line in the wilting humidity,(or biting wind or freezing drizzle, whatever the 6 month Expo season serves up)to gawk at cultural signifiers like wallabies and totem poles and scorched space capsules and visit “the future” with its talking robots and video phones, and uncluttered modular dwelling places. At the International Broadcasting Center, around the corner from where my father works, I see how radio programs are produced (in tiny little rooms) and learn that it takes a mile of tape to make an hour of TV.
When my senses get overwhelmed I visit the Australian Pavilion to sink my burning toes into the decadent deep wool carpet there, or I escape to the near people-free garden behind the glittering geodesic dome of the American Pavilion to lie down in the prickly grass, by some mini waterfall, often the lone fleshly figure amid the park’s many bizarre Cezanne-inspired sculptures. But not always

Scene 5 1/2 Park at Expo
(sx) water, wind

Dorothy: I like your lipstick. What colour is it?

Woman: Blue Surf by Yardley. The London Look

Dorothy: Yardley opens your eyes.

Woman:Huh?

Dorothy: That’s their slogan – in Mademoiselle oh

Dorothy I like your white Go Go boots too

Woman: Oh, they are part of my uniform.

Dorothy Uniform?

Woman: I’m a hostess at the Kaleidoscope Pavilion

Dorothy: You are a beauty queen then. The TV said every hostess at Kaleidoscope is a beauty queen. .

Woman; They exaggerate. I was a contestant in the Miss Canada Pageant, that’s all.

Dorothy:That’s pretty good

Woman: Yea, that’s pretty good

Dorothy: What are you reading? Beooo

Woman: Beautiful Losers

Dorothy: Is it good?

Woman: Sort of. It’s by Leonard Cohen. He’s from Westmount, you know

Dorothy: Read me a bit

Woman: No. It’s too grown up for you. But I can recite the words to Suzanne for you.. Have you heard the song on the radio?

Dorothy Sort of

Woman: Well Suzanne was a poem before it was a song. We studied it in literature class. Suzanne takes you down. Beside the still water..

Dorothy:Sorry.I gotta go and meet my brother. We were watching movies at the Cuban Pavilion. About the Revolution. But I got bored.

Dorothy VO:I do watch dozens of other movies at Expo67, much much happier movies. Multi-screen movies, interactive movies, movies that surround the audience 360 degrees and movies where the stage- and audience- move around the screen. Movies where the medium is the message. Movies that teach about point of view. And sometimes, on the site, if I hear the sound of polite applause rippling my way I know a major movie star or world celebrity is soon to rise up out of the ether. Twiggy? Princess Grace?

Scene Six: Expo 67

SOUND: wave of applause, growing louder

Martha: Look! It’s Bobby Kennedy and his family.

Dorothy: Where?

Martha: Over there.

Dorothy: I can’t see anything except his golden hair. All those men in black

Martha: Those are his secret service agents. He has a lot of protection. He has to have.

Scene Seven: Nixon Living Room

SOUND: background cocktail party chatter. coughing in background

Dorothy VO: Returning home I wolf down a savory pot au feu and catch a summer rerun of a favorite TV show, the Man from UNCLE, and drop with numb knees onto my little cot. My father, an accountant for the Fair Commission, works late most nights, so my mother tackles a second shift, entertaining Granny, who fairly crackles with charisma in the company of grownups, especially men.

Granny: Yes, Martha. A double scotch would be fine. We made our own amusements in those days. Dances at the Royal Selangor Club,in the Reading Room on Saturdays. Cricket on the padang. Once I was given a polo pony by the Sultan of Jahore’s son Bu. For keeping him on the straight and narrow, before a match. And, I was the only woman ever allowed into the men’s bar at the Club, as Selangor’s official cricket scorer; and in 1953 I was actually filmed scoring a match in a March of Time newsreel about the Emergency. Millions saw me.

Man: (chortle. grunt.)

Granny: The children were in England, at school.

Man: HUH?

Granny. Of course I missed them. But duty called – and my duty was to my husband. Still, during the Depression I travelled steerage to England on a banana boat just to see them.

Man: Grumble Granny: If you are referring to Somerset Maugham, I must warn you. He has painted a rather unflattering portrait of colonials. In my opinion he’s a misogynist. He hates women.

Martha: I know what misogynist means. I was taught both Greek and Latin at the College Marguerite Bourgeoys. Jules, did I tell you about my visit on the Royal Yacht Britannia. Il ya deux semaines. The Queen was in Halifax and the boat had to go back and get her. Meanwhile Peter and I were invited to a soiree on board, on June 28, I think. Well, the lights were off deckside and there were frogmen in the water and a crewman asked me why I wanted to kill the Queen. I said, “I don’t want to kill the the Queen. I’m not a maudite separatist. He said he didn’t care one way or da udder because he was Welsh.

Granny: Ah, what an appalling thing to say, even in jest.

Dorothy: (coughing) Mummy, I can’t sleep. The smoke is coming in under the door.

Martha: I’ll open annuder window.

Looking For Mrs. Peel Complete play pdf

Looking for Mrs. Peel 2: Just Like Emma Peel

Granny in 1967

“Cross my hand with silver pretty lady, if you’d see,
What the future holds in store for you and how soon you will be free,

Cross my hand with silver (if you have none don’t be shy)I’ll take it out in food or booze (or Gordon’s Special dry)

Just cross my hand with silver or call at Cell Fifteen
With any simple offering, (be sure you are not seen)

No cumshaw ever comes amiss but if you have it handy
The fates show true benevolence if first well laced with brandy,

The lines engraved upon your palm are clear as mud to me,
There’s fame and food and fortune and a journey on the sea

But a lurking danger threatens and a white-haired lady frowns,
(It isn’t Eve or Nella and it isn’t Mrs. Chowns.)

Fate draws a veil across the name, but one thing’s plain to see,
The danger is averted if you put your shirt on me.

“Scene One: Nixon Living Room Montreal November 1967

SOUND: Television, (Murdersville episode of The Avengers TV Series from November 1967) someone being dunked in water and crunch of eating

Voice on TV: (sx water) You could spare yourself this Mrs. Peel. (sx splash)You know what we want (sx Splash) Who knows you are here?

Martha: Dorothy , depeches-toi,come say goodbye to your grandmother. This is your last chance to see her. She’s leaving for the airport very early tomorrow morning

Dorothy : (sx crinkling of cellophane bag, crunch of junk food being chewed)

Martha: And, adjust the rabbit ears on the TV for Heaven’s sake. All that interference. Mrs. Peel’s face is covered in snow!

MUSIC:Red Rubber Ball. The Cyrkle 1966

Scene Two: 2008 kitchen near Montreal Canada

SOUND: food sizzling on stove, radio din, cell with Ode to Billy Joe ringtone.

Dorothy: Blair. Get my cell, would you?

Blair: (distant)grunt

Dorothy: Aghh. Geez. (sx clunk of pan) Hello?

Denise: Dorothy. It’s your Aunt Denise.

Dorothy: Hi. I know. I was just thinking of you, actually. I’m listening to a BBC Documentary – about My Lai. On my laptop. 40th anniversary of the year 1968. Big year in the US. Of course, 1967 was our big year -here in Canada.

Denise: Radio Four, I presume. We never miss The Archers. I’ve rung to say that I received Mother’s war memoir in the post today. I want to thank you for returning it so promptly.

Dorothy: Wow. That’s fast. I just scanned the pages and saved them to CD. I still have a tonne of research to do before I can make any sense of it. Especially the spy business. Did you see that snippet I sent you from the 1963 Malaysia Who’s Who?

Denise: Yes, I did.

Dorothy: But did you notice the twenty year gap? It says Dorothy Forster Nixon: Born 1895 County Durham; Quaker Co-educational School; land girl in forestry WWI. Then it jumps to librarian, Kuala Lumpur Book Club 1935-present with mention of internment at Changi. Nothing about her domestic life as a rubber worker’s wife.

Denise: No I didn’t. Odd. Well, I can’t thank you enough for all you are doing for my mother.

Dorothy: Well, Granny didn’t get the recognition in the UK. No OBE or flattering obit at her death like the others involved, but she’ll have this, my humble family tribute. I’ll dedicate it to everyone written out of history.

Denise: Yes, to think that the grandchild with whom she had the least rapport is doing the most to keep her memory alive. Must ring off. Short of breath these days. Give my love to your mother.

Dorothy: I will. Bye now. Hmm. The grandchild with whom she had the least rapport. That’s one way of putting it, I guess.(sx plunk of fan, frying sound turns into applause)

Scene Three: Clanranald Elementary Auditorium, Montreal 1967

SOUND: Applause

Teacher (sx mike): Good work Mark Luxenberg and Rebecca Birenbaum. The top students at Clanranald Elementary for 1966/67 . Assembly dismissed. Have a great Expo summer. And please don’t lose your report cards on the way home. Here’s Bobby Gimby to trumpet you home (sx scratch of record CA NA DA Song on cheap record player over PA system)

(sx vague sound of birds, children and car radios fade in and out as Ingrid and Dorothy walk by.”C’etait Bits and Pieces par le Dave Clark Five. A Suivre Light MyFire, Les Doors… US President Lyndon Johnson meets today with Russian Premiere Alexsei Kosygin in New Jersey at what is being dubbed the The Glassboro Summit….

(sunny ID-jingle) CFCF 600 Montreal…

Silky Woman’s Voice: There’s a new look in telephones. The new look is the princess phone. It’s little, it’s lovely, it’s light. It’s so slender it can fit anywhere.)

Dorothy (VO): 6th grade down. One more year of elementary school to go. I walk the two blocks home to my family’s untidy second floor apartment on Lemon Creek Road in the dingy Snowdon district of Montreal (with its row upon row of unadorned red brick duplexes and only two landmarks worthy of the designation: the glamorous Art Deco Snowdon Theatre with its bejewelled art deco spireand the glaring globoid Orange Julep Drive-in Restaurant) in the company of classmate and neighbour Ingrid Singh. Bombay born, Ealing raised, one of the many exotic new Canadians coming to live in my neighborhood.

Dorothy: Let me see your report card Ing.

Ingrid: Let me see yours first.

Dorothy: Nothing to see. Very good in every subject. Not one teacher comment.

Ingrid: Well, I got five excellents.

Dorothy: And a page and a half of teacher comments, I bet.”Ingrid talks back in class and teaches the little ones how to say words like douchebag. Please wash her mouth out with soap.”

Ingrid: H! Ha!. So, what do you want to do when we get home. Go up to Queen Mary Road and play Monkey See Monkey Do?.

Dorothy: Nah, too hot.

Ingrid: Wanna go see if that one-legged hobo is still living in the backseat of the blue Firebird in the used car lot?

Dorothy: Not allowed. And he’s not a hobo. He’s a war veteran.

INgrid: Spy vs. spy then?

Dorothy: Ok. But I wanna be Emma Peel this time.

Ingrid: No. I get to play Emma. I’m from England. You can be Agent 99 or Honey West.

Dorothy: I wanna be Emma. You’re from India. I’m the one who’s REALLY English. I’m a tall Yorkshire girl, just like Diana Rigg. My dad says.

Ingrid: You said you were born here in Canada. And your father in K-u-a-la Lum-pooor.

Dorothy: Makes no difference. My grandparents are from Yorkshire.

Ingrid: Is you grandmother tall like you and your dad?

Dorothy: I dunno.

Ingrid: Well,I’m much much MUCH prettier than you, so I still get to play Mrs. Peel.

Dorothy vo: Right, then. So Ingrid,with her shimmering swell of jet black hair, flawless mocha skin and blossoming Swedish curves, gets to be Emma Peel, as usual. That’s because Emma Peel is really Diana Rigg, an English lady who is undeniably the most beautiful – and possibly the best TV actress on either side of the pond. At least according to critic Cleveland Amory in the April 28, 1967 issue of TV Guide Magazine, the very same issue I have tucked away as a keepsake because April 28, 1967 was also the opening day of Montreal’s wonderful world’s fair.

Ingrid: So, Emma goes undercover at the British Pavilion at Expo where she hides out with the Mary Quant mannequins. She’s watching out for Russian spies who want to kidnap…ah…Queen Elizabeth when she visits in two weeks. And Honey is a double agent working in the Russian Pavilion.

Dorothy: I’ve been to the Russian Pavilion. All it has inside is machines. Why can’t Honey hide out in Thailand? Their pavilion is shaped like a golden dragon boat.

Ingrid: Don’t be daft. Nothing happens in Thailand. So, my flat is the British Pavilion and your flat is the Russian Pavilion and our bedrooms are where we send our top secret transmissions. On pink princess phones.

Dorothy: I don’t have a princess phone.

Ingrid : It’s pretend!

Dorothy: Next week I won’t even have a bedroom.

Ingrid: Why?

Dorothy: Because my Yorkshire, well, Malaya, grandmother is finally coming for a visit and she gets my brother’s bedroom and he gets mine.

Ingrid: Is she coming for Expo? Is she coming to see the Queen?

Dorothy: I guess.

Ingrid: Where are you going to sleep?

Dorothy: On a cot in the dining room.

Ingrid: So, then. You’ll finally find out if she’s really tall or small.

Looking For Mrs. Peel Complete play pdf

Looking For Mrs. Peel -Part 3

My grandmother, at about 72, the age she was when she visited in 1967.

I have only one or two more installments of Flo in the City, my novel in progress based on the letters of http://www.tighsolas.ca/, to end 1908. And, then, I will probably go back and edit what I’ve written so far. I now interrupt my Flo in the City blog to bring you my third installment of Looking for Mrs. Peel, my ‘radio play’ about the Summer of Love, Expo 67, WWII and the Fall of Singapore…not to mention waterboarding. It can be found -with audio visual links-at my Looking for Mrs. Peel Blog.

Scene Four: Lemon Creek Living Room

SOUND: Announcer on radio

Roger Scott broadcasting live on location from Expo 67 Or Girl Watching Central.( sx cheesy wolf whistle sound effect) Everywhere you turn a gorgeous young thing in a sarong, sari, or kimono. Still it takes more than a beautiful face and perfect proportions to be a hostess at the fair. All 240 Official Expo hostesses speak both English and French…and have some college; And lucky me,in a minute, I get to interview two leggy birds from the British Pavilion whose miniskirts are the envy of all the Expo hostesses, (ID. CFOX. MontreeeeALL The Island City) But first this word from Clairol. Who writes this shit?

(sx radio: Sad-sack women’s voice: Oily hair?? My hair is so oily this big man from Texas came up and asked if he could invest. PSSSt. Good news for you; fade)

Marthe: Mark. Dorothy. Come to the window. They’ve found a parking space right in front.

Dorothy Vo: She is small. Very very small. With a broken down sparrow body, the high forehead and steely gaze of a chicken hawk and a giant square chin just like that Tasmanian Devil on TV. Her hair is snow white and short cropped. My tall tall father shyly takes her little birdy hand as she materializes onto the sidewalk from the rusty cocoon of our Austin Cambridge car. With my fine-tuned daughterly radar I can sense that despite his big bones and broad shoulders, my dad is the one feeling very very small.

Dorothy: I bet Granny’s never seen anything like Madame Dufour’s pink Thunderbird with the wings at back.

Mark: They’re fins, tail fins, not wings.

Dorothy: I bet they don’t even have cars in Malaya. Bunga’s father doesn’t drive!

Mark: No they travel by rickshaw and elephant, mostly.

Dorothy vo: My peregrine progenitor has to pause three times to catch her breath as she climbs the 18 or so freshly swept stairs to our second story 5 and a half.

Marthe: Don’t crowd the door.

Peter: (Indistinct grumble)

Martha: Dorothy, so pleased to finally meet you. This is Mark,our eldest and, this, of course is “my” Dorothy, or String Bean as we call her. (whispers: Mark:HO HO HO Green Giant. Dorothy:Shut up Mark)

Granny: Oh, Martha. What enormous children you have

Martha: Well, I am very proud of my cooking. I am French.

Daddy: (growl)

Martha: Mark, help your dad bring up your grandmother’s suitcases. Dorothy, you must be exhausted. Let me show you your room.(fade) I hope you like the colour yellow, we bought new curtains for your visit. And we finally found a store that sells yogurt, so you can have your usual breakfast in bed.

Granny: Oh, you needn’t have bothered.

Scene Five: Nixon Living Room

SOUND: Drone of TV. (CFCF 12 Montreal)

Man on TV: Good Evening.I am Pierre Berton. Last month the Australian Rock Group, the Seekers, sang at Expo67 and their performance was broadcast live to over 70,000,000 people worldwide by Telstar satellite. Newton N. Minow, the US Broadcast Regulator (who famously called Television a “vast wasteland” back in 1961) claims that satellite technology, will, in the long run, have more of an impact than space technology, because spaceships only send men into space while satellites will send ideas into space. Our special guest today is Marshall McLuhan, University of Toronto professor …fade

Dorothy vo: A few days later, Granny, recently retired colonial librarian, lectures my older brother on a point of media literacy.

Mark: When Bridge on the River Kwai played on TV, the next day everyone at school was whistling (whistles tune) I told them my grandfather helped build that bridge.

Granny: Oh Mark. Don’t believe anything you see in the cinema. It’s all bosch. If you – and your sister – come to visit me in Malaysia I’ll let you read some first hand accounts. Many of my good friends died on that beastly Thai Burma Railroad. Yes, many friends, British, Chinese, Malay and Indian.

Dorothy: When I go can I have a mongoose like Riki Tikki Tavi ? I don’t want to be gobbled up by a King Cobra like Daddy’s dog. And I don’t want lizard tails to fall into my oatmeal. No way. And I don’t want to see a monkey being killed, because they cry just like human babies, Dad says.
Granny: Girl. Whatever are you chattering about? What tall tales has your father been telling you?

Dorothy vo: So, I decide to ignore my grandmother, which is easy as it is Canada’s Centennial year and those magical Expo islands are only a short bus and metro ride away. (sx Mexican mariachi band. Israeli fiddle; Trinidad steel drums). Expo, with its mishmash of experimental eye-candy architecture,is better than real life, anyway, a mind bending multi-national experience, McLuhan’s Global Village in giant size diorama. I lope miles over the macadam on my long giraffe legs and queue for hours in line in the wilting humidity,(or biting wind or freezing drizzle, whatever the 6 month Expo season serves up)to gawk at cultural signifiers like wallabies and totem poles and scorched space capsules and visit “the future” with its talking robots and video phones, and uncluttered modular dwelling places. At the International Broadcasting Center, around the corner from where my father works, I see how radio programs are produced (in tiny little rooms) and learn that it takes a mile of tape to make an hour of TV.
When my senses get overwhelmed I visit the Australian Pavilion to sink my burning toes into the decadent deep wool carpet there, or I escape to the near people-free garden behind the glittering geodesic dome of the American Pavilion to lie down in the prickly grass, by some mini waterfall, often the lone fleshly figure amid the park’s many bizarre Cezanne-inspired sculptures. But not always

Scene 5 1/2 Park at Expo
(sx) water, wind

Dorothy: I like your lipstick. What colour is it?

Woman: Blue Surf by Yardley. The London Look

Dorothy: Yardley opens your eyes.

Woman:Huh?

Dorothy: That’s their slogan – in Mademoiselle oh

Dorothy I like your white Go Go boots too

Woman: Oh, they are part of my uniform.

Dorothy Uniform?

Woman: I’m a hostess at the Kaleidoscope Pavilion

Dorothy: You are a beauty queen then. The TV said every hostess at Kaleidoscope is a beauty queen. .

Woman; They exaggerate. I was a contestant in the Miss Canada Pageant, that’s all.

Dorothy:That’s pretty good

Woman: Yea, that’s pretty good

Dorothy: What are you reading? Beooo

Woman: Beautiful Losers

Dorothy: Is it good?

Woman: Sort of. It’s by Leonard Cohen. He’s from Westmount, you know

Dorothy: Read me a bit

Woman: No. It’s too grown up for you. But I can recite the words to Suzanne for you.. Have you heard the song on the radio?

Dorothy Sort of

Woman: Well Suzanne was a poem before it was a song. We studied it in literature class. Suzanne takes you down. Beside the still water..

Dorothy:Sorry.I gotta go and meet my brother. We were watching movies at the Cuban Pavilion. About the Revolution. But I got bored.

Dorothy VO:I do watch dozens of other movies at Expo67, much much happier movies. Multi-screen movies, interactive movies, movies that surround the audience 360 degrees and movies where the stage- and audience- move around the screen. Movies where the medium is the message. Movies that teach about point of view. And sometimes, on the site, if I hear the sound of polite applause rippling my way I know a major movie star or world celebrity is soon to rise up out of the ether. Twiggy? Princess Grace?

Scene Six: Expo 67

SOUND: wave of applause, growing louder

Martha: Look! It’s Bobby Kennedy and his family.

Dorothy: Where?

Martha: Over there.

Dorothy: I can’t see anything except his golden hair. All those men in black

Martha: Those are his secret service agents. He has a lot of protection. He has to have.

Scene Seven: Nixon Living Room

SOUND: background cocktail party chatter. coughing in background

Dorothy VO: Returning home I wolf down a savory pot au feu and catch a summer rerun of a favorite TV show,the Man from UNCLE, and drop with numb knees onto my little cot. My father, an accountant for the Fair Commission, works late most nights, so my mother tackles a second shift, entertaining Granny, who fairly crackles with charisma in the company of grownups, especially men.

Granny: Yes, Martha. A double scotch would be fine. We made our own amusements in those days. Dances at the Royal Selangor Club,in the Reading Room on Saturdays. Cricket on the padang. Once I was given a polo pony by the Sultan of Jahore’s son Bu. For keeping him on the straight and narrow, before a match. And, I was the only woman ever allowed into the men’s bar at the Club, as Selangor’s official cricket scorer; and in 1953 I was actually filmed scoring a match in a March of Time newsreel about the Emergency. Millions saw me.

Man: (chortle. grunt.)

Granny: The children were in England, at school.

Man: HUH?

Granny. Of course I missed them. But duty called – and my duty was to my husband. Still, during the Depression I travelled steerage to England on a banana boat just to see them.

Man: Grumble Granny: If you are referring to Somerset Maugham, I must warn you. He has painted a rather unflattering portrait of colonials. In my opinion he’s a misogynist. He hates women.

Martha: I know what misogynist means. I was taught both Greek and Latin at the College Marguerite Bourgeoys. Jules, did I tell you about my visit on the Royal Yacht Britannia. Il ya deux semaines. The Queen was in Halifax and the boat had to go back and get her. Meanwhile Peter and I were invited to a soiree on board, on June 28, I think. Well, the lights were off deckside and there were frogmen in the water and a crewman asked me why I wanted to kill the Queen. I said, “I don’t want to kill the the Queen. I’m not a maudite separatist. He said he didn’t care one way or da udder because he was Welsh.

Granny: Ah, what an appalling thing to say, even in jest.

Dorothy: (coughing) Mummy, I can’t sleep. The smoke is coming in under the door.

Martha: I’ll open annuder window.