I have returned from Polish class, where I delivered my 650 word paper on Stanisław Wyspiański. Typing the silly thing drove me around the bend, for when I change my normal British QWERTY for the Polish QWERTZ keyboard, I almost always get Z and Y mixed up. I just did it again. However, it is done and photocopied and delivered and handed out to my classmates, and now I can get on with life.
Yesterday I wrote warmly of the Suchet Poirot, and I was wondering today whom you would turn to in a crisis. We often look--foolishly, I think--for mates who remind us of our fictional romantic heroes, but what fictional men would we look to, like pretend daughters or pretend mothers, in a crisis?
For some strange reason, as I was walking up the Canongate this evening, I thought I would consult Mr Rochester on money matters. I certainly would never, ever, ever see Mr Rochester in the light of a romantic hero: what a twister! Big fat bigamous liar! Jane Eyre can have him, and I am not really sure why she wanted him in the first place.
But this is not the place to fight about the dreaminess of Mr Rochester. What I am wondering is, "Which men in fiction would you turn to in a crisis, not expecting or wanting to marry them afterwards, and why?" If I were very sick, I think I would like to call Gilbert Blythe, MD. Gilbert rather than Dr Watson--Dr Watson is too easily distracted. Naturally I would not want to marry Gilbert (even if single), for he is a married man with seven children (including the dead).