My mind is in a state of confusion, it seems. I am imagining, in my mind's eye, a little Mexican in a sombrero, spinning like a top, round and round, almost hidden from view by his enormous hat and gradually disappearing further and further into the ground, soon to be flattened completely beneath his oversized headgear. Once, whilst we lived in the Netherlands, we went to see a wonderful concert by an international youth orchestra in a concert hall in Rotterdam. This must be what I am thinking of. Their party piece, performed with every ounce of their skill and application to the task, was a marvellous rendering of one of my favourite pieces of music: Bolero. Accompanied by a dervish gentleman dressed in a multi-coloured poncho, who twisted and twirled in time to the music until we expected to see him fall, dizzy and exhausted, to the ground, the music was intoxicating. We listened and watched, spellbound, as he whirled on and on, apparently caught up in the music, like we were, and totally oblivious of his audience.
Caught up in a frenzy of speculation, my mind moves on to an altogether different image: some kind of revolving apartment, maybe on London's Post Office Tower? Living in London as a child, I remember the excitement when the Post Office Tower Restaurant was first opened and one could spend an enchanting evening up there, revolving slowly over dinner and seeing the lights of London laid out below. Is it this I should be thinking of?
There again, I seem to see, this time from the distant recesses of my childhood memory, a game of cat and mouse, a cat and mouse chase, and a giant hammer wielded by the desperate little mouse, swinging round and round above his head and finally making contact with an annoying and troublesome pussy cat, knocking him clean off his paws, high up into the sky, round and round, spinning down and down until he hits the deck, in an elongated, flattened pussy cat shape on the floor - again. Poor old Tom cat!
It's Christmas! Most of us are rushed off our feet. This probably explains my unstable, confused mental state and the hallucinations which crowd into my overburdened consciousness. Presents to buy, menus to plan, visits to make to meet up with long lost relatives and a Christmas tree to decorate! Each of those fascinating activities we have grown to love since our move here: the art clubs, writers groups, choir, theatre group, ladies groups - the list is growing all the time - each of them has its own festivities for the season and its own pressures. Caught up in a whirl of last minute choir practices, performances in the local churches and nursing homes, buffet lunches where we all 'bring and share', writers groups where we bring not only our scribblings but an offering of food and wine, Christmas dinners, Secret Santa pressies to buy, we scuttle from one to the other in ever-decreasing circles - in a flat spin, in fact! I revel in it all but, as usual, there is too much of it. Flat spin - what on earth does that mean? I paused to wonder the other day and that set off a whole lot of thinking. These phrases do that to me - I just can't help wondering where they originate. Why do we talk of being in a flat spin?
Does anyone want to know? Well, here it is anyway! My faithful copy of Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable reliably informs me that a flat spin is 'when the longitudinal axis of an aircraft inclines downwards at an angle of less than 45 degrees. In the early days this inevitably involved loss of control.' Nowadays, apparently, it is used in air combat as an evasive action. There, mystery solved and a clue to a possible means of escape from all this Christmas razzmatazz, should this be required!
There again, I seem to see, this time from the distant recesses of my childhood memory, a game of cat and mouse, a cat and mouse chase, and a giant hammer wielded by the desperate little mouse, swinging round and round above his head and finally making contact with an annoying and troublesome pussy cat, knocking him clean off his paws, high up into the sky, round and round, spinning down and down until he hits the deck, in an elongated, flattened pussy cat shape on the floor - again. Poor old Tom cat!
It's Christmas! Most of us are rushed off our feet. This probably explains my unstable, confused mental state and the hallucinations which crowd into my overburdened consciousness. Presents to buy, menus to plan, visits to make to meet up with long lost relatives and a Christmas tree to decorate! Each of those fascinating activities we have grown to love since our move here: the art clubs, writers groups, choir, theatre group, ladies groups - the list is growing all the time - each of them has its own festivities for the season and its own pressures. Caught up in a whirl of last minute choir practices, performances in the local churches and nursing homes, buffet lunches where we all 'bring and share', writers groups where we bring not only our scribblings but an offering of food and wine, Christmas dinners, Secret Santa pressies to buy, we scuttle from one to the other in ever-decreasing circles - in a flat spin, in fact! I revel in it all but, as usual, there is too much of it. Flat spin - what on earth does that mean? I paused to wonder the other day and that set off a whole lot of thinking. These phrases do that to me - I just can't help wondering where they originate. Why do we talk of being in a flat spin?
Does anyone want to know? Well, here it is anyway! My faithful copy of Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable reliably informs me that a flat spin is 'when the longitudinal axis of an aircraft inclines downwards at an angle of less than 45 degrees. In the early days this inevitably involved loss of control.' Nowadays, apparently, it is used in air combat as an evasive action. There, mystery solved and a clue to a possible means of escape from all this Christmas razzmatazz, should this be required!
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