400 years after

 

Today it’s a day to commemorate the death of two celebrated authors who dramatically changed European literature. The Spanish writer Miguel de Cervantes – mostly known for the adventures of Don Quixote-  died on April 22, 1616.  William Shakespeare, perhaps the greatest playwright in the English language, died on April 23, 1616. By the way, he is believed to have been born on April 23, 1564.

You can easily understand that it’s a great day to celebrate. As a result there are so many events you can watch and participate, learning a little bit more about the “Bard of Avon”, his world and his work. The British Council in partnership with the BBC present Shakespeare Day Live. You can visit the BBC website to see more details. On The Telegraph, Helena Horton tells us about 15 great William Shakespeare insults which are better than swearing; while Rob Brydon reveals popular Shakespeare phrases in everyday use. Finally, if you would like to "visit" the place where Shakespeare was born and educated, you should have a look at Shakespeare birthplace trust. You can discover things and join the celebrations that mark 400 years of Shakespeare's legacy.

     

                 

Exploring English: Shakespeare

2016 marks the 400^th anniversary of Shakespeare's death. The British Council invites all learners of English language to join for events and activities celebrating Shakespeare’s work.

A new free online course  (MOOC) starts on January 11 2016. This six-week course looks at the life and works of William Shakespeare and takes you from his birthplace in Stratford-upon-Avon to the Globe Theatre in London, from where he secured his central place in English literature. 
The course looks at five of Shakespeare’s plays with the help of actors and experts from around the world. They will explain and explore the universal themes Shakespeare addressed in his work. Also, the video tutor will guide you through the course and look at some of the words and expressions that Shakespeare introduced to the English language.

For more events and activities you can take a look at ShakespeareLives website.

LS "Parnassos" - 150 years of history

The Literature Society “Parnassos” celebrates  150 years of continuous history, presence and active involvement  in cultural and social life of Athens. Through a series of events highlighting its legacy, LS “Parnassos” opens its doors to adults and children inviting them to enjoy a wide range of artistic, musical, literary and social happenings. For a detailed list of the events throughout November 2015, please have a look here or at LS "Parnassos" official site.

True to the dream of its founders we hope tha LS Parnassos along with its School will continue offering culture and affordable education in Greeek and Foreign languages for many years to come.

Quirky places to stay

 Either we like it or not, summer is here. So, inevitably, we start thinking about and making holiday plans. If you are interested in staying somewhere with some  real character,  here are some suggestions for alternative holidays and unusual places to stay in Britain. What about a night in a luxury treehouse instead of the more conventional 5star hotel room? Or maybe a stay in a castle is more your thing?

Get inspired by Britain’s quirky places to stay.

Mouthwatering Sunday lunches

Sunday lunch is a big deal for many people around the world, and Britons seem to take it very seriously. The celebrated main meal is the Sunday roast, which of course could be eaten on any day of the week. Consisting of roasted meat, roast or (rarely) mashed potato and accompaniments such as Yorkshire pudding, stuffing, vegetables and gravy, the meal is often comparable to a less grand version of a traditional Christmas dinner.

You could enjoy it at home, with your family and friends, or eat out. If you happen to be visiting London, you could check out one (or more) of the  21 unmissable spots recommended. In any other case, you can still enjoy a Sunday lunch recipe by Jamie Oliver.

The Curse of Minerva

There has been a heated debate, recently fuelled by the unexpected decision of the British Museum to loan to the Russian Hermitage Museum the statue of the river god Ilissos. 

The marble sculpture is one of the disputed Parthenon Marbles pillaged by Thomas Bruce, the 7^th Earl of Elgin. The media coverage and the arguments put forward reminded me of a voice from the past, the voice of an eye-witness:

 “Mortal!”—’twas thus she (Minerva) spake—“that blush of shame

  Proclaims thee Briton, once a noble name;

     First of the mighty, foremost of the free,

     Now honour’d less by all, and least by me;

  Chief of thy foes shall Pallas still be found.

  Seek’st thou the cause of loathing?—look around.

     Lo! here, despite of war and wasting fire,

     I saw successive tyrannies expire.

  ’Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth,

  Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both.

     Survey this vacant, violated fane;

     Recount the relics torn that yet remain:

  These Cecrops placed, this Pericles adorn’d,

  That Adrian rear’d when drooping Science mourn’d.

     What more I owe let gratitude attest—

     Know, Alaric and Elgin did the rest.

  That all may learn from whence the plunderer came,

  The insulted wall sustains his hated name:

  For Elgin’s fame thus grateful Pallas pleads,

  Below, his name—above, behold his deeds!

     Be ever hailed with equal honour here

     The Gothic monarch and the Pictish peer:

  arms gave the first his right, the last had none,

  But basely stole what less barbarians won.

     So when the lion quits his fell repast,

     Next prowls the wolf, the filthy jackal last;

  Flesh, limbs, and blood the former make their own,

  The last poor brute securely gnaws the bone.

     Yet still the gods are just, and crimes are cross’d:

     See here what Elgin won, and what he lost!

  Another name with his pollutes my shrine:

  Behold where Dian’s beams disdain to shine!

     Some retribution still might Pallas claim,

     When Venus half avenged Minerva’s shame.”

(The Curse of Minerva- composed on 17^th March 1811, in Athens, 

    by George Gordon Byron, aka Lord Byron)

It is probably worth watching a very short video made by Costas Gavras:

The New Yorker's amazing cover

The first-ever animated-GIF magazine’s cover is a reality. The weekly magazine “The New Yorker” has on its cover Christoph Niemann’s Rainy Day.

"When I arrived in New York for the first time, it was pouring,” the German artist Christoph Niemann says. “Maybe that’s why, to my mind, there’s no place on earth where being stuck in traffic on a rainy day is more beautiful.”

The New Yorker magazine

Robin Williams on Greece

“I have been to all the islands,,, facing some ancient sites I thought to myself: I cannot believe that here is recounted everything we read in Greek mythology. Greek history is something all mankind must bow to. Maybe your economy goes to hell, but that does not mean you’re helpless. Economic data is constantly changing in Europe and America for all. What is not changing is the legacy, your identity. The Parthenon does not leave Athens. It’s there to remind all that progress and prosperity may return.  I am now in England, for example, I have gone nowhere. I am here to promote a movie and will leave. What’s there to see, Buchingham Palace? I don’t care. As when I go to Germany, I am not interested in the Berlin Wall, which is not a symbol of prosperity, but the opposite. However, one cannot ignore Delos, the Parthenon and Mycenae!”

Robin Williams on Greece, during an interview to George Satsidis in London (December 2011)

The real-life locations for Game Of Thrones

Stunning locations where TV’s smash hit swords and sorcery show is filmed

There are actually very few people who haven’t heard about the Game of Thrones, the American fantasy-drama television series, based on A Song of Ice and Fire novels written by George R. R. Martin. The story follows nine noble families who fight for control of the mythical land of Westeros. But though the plot is set in a fictional world, the locations where the series is filmed are real-life ones. From Northern Ireland to Malta, Croatia, Morocco and Iceland the settings of ice and fire have become popular places to visit with the cult programme’s fans.

The following photos have recently been published on the  Daily Mail:

The beech tree lined road is known as the Dark Hedges to locals near Stanocum in County Antrim, Northern Ireland.

 But to fans of Game of Thrones it will be more recognisable as the Kings Road and the Dark Hedges of Armoy.

 The Stangford Castle Ward Estate and the Castle Ward tower stands proudly in County Down, Northern Ireland.

In Game of Thrones the castle towers are transformed into Winterfell, where the head of House Stark rules over his people.

The limestone Azure Window, in Gozo, Malta, was used for filming in the first season.

The archway provided the backdrop for Daenerys and Khal Drogo’s wedding in season one of Game of Thrones.

The Minceta Tower and fortification is a UNESCO World Heritage site on the Dalmatian Coast in Dubrovnik.

The House of the Undying, the site of the season two finale, was the real-life Minceta Tower.

The Ounila River and the red citadel of Ait-Ben-Haddou in Morocco impressed the Game of Thrones producers.

It provided the setting for the fictional city of Yunkai, featured in the third season of the Game of Thrones.

For the icy scenes, programme makers favoured the Hverfjall volcano in the Lake Myvatin region of Northern Iceland.

It is also recognisable as the Beyond the Wall area, the large area of Westeros in the hit show.

These and many more photos along with a video about the making of season 4 can be found on Dailymail/Game-Of-Thrones-Stunning-locations 

April Fools' Day

April Fools' Day or All Fools' Day, is a notable day celebrated in many countries on April 1. The day is marked by hoaxes and jokes. There are many theories concerning its origin but the most prevailing one is that April 1 was counted the first day of the year in France. When King Charles IX changed that to January 1, some people stayed with April 1. Those who did were called "April Fools" and were taunted by their neighbours.

Among the Top 100 April Fool's Day Hoaxes of All Time
(as judged by notoriety, creativity, and number of people duped) are the following:

#1: The Swiss Spaghetti Harvest

1957: The respected BBC news show Panorama announced that thanks to a very mild winter, Swiss farmers were enjoying a spaghetti crop. It accompanied this announcement with a video of Swiss peasants pulling spaghetti down from trees. Huge numbers of viewers were taken in. Many called the BBC wanting to know how they could grow their own spaghetti tree. To this the BBC diplomatically replied, "Place some spaghetti in a tin of tomato sauce and hope for the best".

#8: The Left-Handed Whopper

1998: Burger King published a full page advertisement in USA Today announcing the introduction of a new item to their menu: a "Left-Handed Whopper" specially designed for the 32 million left-handed Americans. According to the advertisement, the new whopper included the same ingredients as the original Whopper (lettuce, tomato, hamburger, etc.), but all the condiments were rotated 180 degrees for their left-handed customers. The following day Burger King issued a follow-up release revealing that although the Left-Handed Whopper was a hoax, thousands of customers had gone into restaurants to ask for the new sandwich. Also, according to the press release, "many others asked for their own 'right handed' version.

#11: UFO Lands in London

1989: On March 31, 1989 thousands of drivers outside London looked up in the air to see a flying saucer descending on their city. Many of them stopped to watch the strange craft in the air. The saucer finally landed in a field where local people immediately called the police to warn them of an alien invasion. Soon the police arrived on the scene, and one brave officer approached the craft. When a door opened, and a small, silver-suited figure emerged, the policeman ran in the opposite direction. The saucer turned out to be a hot-air balloon that had been specially built to look like a UFO by Richard Branson, the 36-year-old chairman of Virgin Records. The stunt combined his passion for ballooning with his love of pranks. His plan was to land the craft in London's Hyde Park on April 1.

#12: Flying Penguins

2008: The BBC announced that camera crews filming near the Antarctic for its natural history series Miracles of Evolution had filmed penguins flying in the air. It even offered a video clip of these flying penguins, which became one of the most viewed videos on the internet. Presenter Terry Jones explained that these penguins took to the air and flew thousands of miles to the rainforests of South America. A follow-up video explained how the BBC created the special effects of the flying penguins.

The highwayman - A love story

As a treat on Valentine’s day I’d like to remind you of Alfred Noyes’s poem talking about a doomed love.

You can watch it…

You can read …

The Highwayman (by Alfred Noyes)

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.   

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.   

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,   

And the highwayman came riding— riding— riding.

The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,   

a coat of  claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.

They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.   

And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, his pistol butts a-twinkle,

his rapier hilt a twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.

He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.   

He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there   

but the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,Bess, the landlord’s daughter,

plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked

Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.   

His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,   

But he loved the landlord’s daughter,The landlord’s red-lipped daughter.

Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize tonight,

But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;

Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,

then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight,

I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,

But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand

As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;   

And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,

(O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)

Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;   

And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon, 

when the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,   

a red-coat troop came marching—marching—marching.

King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead.   

But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed.

Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!   

There was death at every window; And hell at one dark window;

for Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.

They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!

“Now, keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say—

Look for me by moonlight;

         Watch for me by moonlight;

I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!

She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!   

They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years

Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, Cold, on the stroke of midnight,

The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horsehoofs ringing clear;   

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?

Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,

The highwayman came riding— riding— riding.

The red coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still.

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!   

Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light.

Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,   

Then her finger moved in the moonlight,

Her musket shattered the moonlight,

Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

He turned. He spurred to the west; he did not know who stood   

Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own blood!   

Not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew grey to hear   

How Bess, the landlord’s daughter, the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,

had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shouting a curse to the sky,

With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.

Blood red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat;

When they shot him down on the highway, down like a dog on the highway,

And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,

When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,   

When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,   

A highwayman comes riding— riding— riding.

A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Or you can listen to Loreena Mckennitt singing it

Οἱ Γάτες τ᾿ Ἅι-Νικόλα - Γιώργος Σεφέρης

Τὸν δ᾿ ἄνευ λύρας ὅμως ὑμνωδεῖ θρῆνον Ἐρινύος αὐτοδίδακτος ἔσωθεν θυμός,

οὐ τὸ πᾶν ἔχων ἐλπίδος φίλον θράσος. ΑΓΑΜΕΜΝΩΝ. 990 ἔπ.

«Φαίνεται ὁ Κάβο-Γάτα...», μοῦ εἶπε ὁ καπετάνιος δείχνοντας ἕνα χαμηλὸ γιαλὸ μέσα στὸ πούσι τ᾿ ἄδειο ἀκρογιάλι ἀνήμερα Χριστούγεννα, «... καὶ κατὰ τὸν Πουνέντε ἀλάργα τὸ κύμα γέννησε τὴν Ἀφροδίτη λένε τὸν τόπο Πέτρα τοῦ Ρωμιοῦ. Τρία καρτίνια ἀριστερά!» Εἶχε τὰ μάτια τῆς Σαλώμης ἡ γάτα ποὺ ἔχασα τὸν ἄλλο χρόνο κι ὁ Ραμαζὰν πῶς κοίταζε κατάματα τὸ θάνατο, μέρες ὁλόκληρες μέσα στὸ χιόνι τῆς Ἀνατολῆς στὸν παγωμένον ἥλιο κατάματα μέρες ὁλόκληρες ὁ μικρὸς ἐφέστιος θεός. Μὴ σταθεῖς ταξιδιώτη. «Τρία καρτίνια ἀριστερά» μουρμούρισε ὁ τιμονιέρης. ...ἴσως ὁ φίλος μου νὰ κοντοστέκουνταν, ξέμπαρκος τώρα κλειστὸς σ᾿ ἕνα μικρὸ σπίτι μὲ εἰκόνες γυρεύοντας παράθυρα πίσω ἀπ᾿ τὰ κάδρα. Χτύπησε ἡ καμπάνα τοῦ καραβιοῦ σὰν τὴ μονέδα πολιτείας ποὺ χάθηκε κι ἦρθε νὰ ζωντανέψει πέφτοντας ἀλλοτινὲς ἐλεημοσύνες. «Παράξενο», ξανάειπε ὁ καπετάνιος. «Τούτη ἡ καμπάνα-μέρα ποὺ εἶναι- μοῦ θύμισε τὴν ἄλλη ἐκείνη, τὴ μοναστηρίσια. Διηγότανε τὴν ἱστορία ἕνας καλόγερος ἕνας μισότρελος, ἕνας ὀνειροπόλος. «Τὸν καιρὸ τῆς μεγάλης στέγνιας, - σαράντα χρόνια ἀναβροχιὰ - ρημάχτηκε ὅλο τὸ νησὶ πέθαινε ὁ κόσμος καὶ γεννιοῦνταν φίδια. Μιλιούνια φίδια τοῦτο τ᾿ ἀκρωτήρι, χοντρὰ σὰν τὸ ποδάρι ἄνθρωπου καὶ φαρμακερά. Τὸ μοναστήρι τ᾿ Ἅι-Νικόλα τὸ εἶχαν τότε Ἁγιοβασιλεῖτες καλογέροι κι οὔτε μποροῦσαν νὰ δουλέψουν τὰ χωράφια κι οὔτε νὰ βγάλουν τὰ κοπάδια στὴ βοσκὴ τοὺς ἔσωσαν οἱ γάτες ποὺ ἀναθρέφαν. Τὴν κάθε αὐγὴ χτυποῦσε μία καμπάνα καὶ ξεκινοῦσαν τσοῦρμο γιὰ τὴ μάχη. Ὅλη μέρα χτυπιοῦνταν ὡς τὴν ὥρα ποῦ σήμαιναν τὸ βραδινὸ ταγίνι. Ἀπόδειπνα πάλι ἡ καμπάνα καὶ βγαῖναν γιὰ τὸν πόλεμο τῆς νύχτας. Ἤτανε θαῦμα νὰ τὶς βλέπεις, λένε, ἄλλη κουτσή, κι ἄλλη στραβή, τὴν ἄλλη χωρὶς μύτη, χωρὶς αὐτί, προβιὰ κουρέλι. Ἔτσι μὲ τέσσερεις καμπάνες τὴν ἡμέρα πέρασαν μῆνες, χρόνια, καιροὶ κι ἄλλοι καιροί. Ἄγρια πεισματικὲς καὶ πάντα λαβωμένες ξολόθρεψαν τὰ φίδια μὰ στὸ τέλος χαθήκανε, δὲν ἄντεξαν τόσο φαρμάκι. Ὡσὰν καράβι καταποντισμένο τίποτε δὲν ἀφῆσαν στὸν ἀφρὸ μήτε νιαούρισμα, μήτε καμπάνα. Γραμμή! Τί νὰ σοῦ κάνουν οἱ ταλαίπωρες παλεύοντας καὶ πίνοντας μέρα καὶ νύχτα τὸ αἷμα τὸ φαρμακερὸ τῶν ἑρπετῶν. Αἰῶνες φαρμάκι γενιὲς φαρμάκι». «Γραμμή! Τί νὰ σοῦ κάνουν οἱ ταλαίπωρες παλεύοντας καὶ πίνοντας μέρα καὶ νύχτα τὸ αἷμα τὸ φαρμακερὸ τῶν ἑρπετῶν. Αἰῶνες φαρμάκι, γενιὲς φαρμάκι». «Γραμμή!» ἀντιλάλησε ἀδιάφορος ὁ τιμονιέρης. Τετάρτη, 5 Φεβρουαρίου 1969

But deep inside me sings  the Fury's lyreless threnody;

my heart, self-taught, has lost   the precious confidence of hope . . .

                                                                          Aeschylus, "Agamemnon"

'That's the Cape of Cats ahead,' the captain said to me,

pointing through the mist to a low stretch of shore,

the beach deserted; it was Christmas day —

'. . . and there, in the distance to the west, is where

Aphrodite rose out of the waves;

they call the place "Greek's Rock."

Left ten degrees rudder!'

She had Salome's eyes, the cat I lost a year ago;

and old Ramazan, how he would look death square in the eyes,

whole days long in the snow of the East,

under the frozen sun,

days long square in the eyes: the young hearth god.

Don't stop, traveller.

'Left ten degrees rudder,' muttered the helmsman.

. . . my friend, though, might well have stopped,

now between ships,

shut up in a small house with pictures,

searching for windows behind the frames.

The ship's bell struck

like a coin from some vanished city

that brings to mind, as it falls,

alms from another time.

'It's strange,' the captain said.

'That bell — given what day it is —

reminded me of another, the monastery bell.

A monk told me the story,

a half-mad monk, a kind of dreamer.

'It was during the great drought,

forty years without rain,

the whole island devastated,

people died and snakes were born.

This cape had millions of snakes

thick as a man's legs

and full of poison.

In those days the monastery of St Nicholas

was held by the monks of St Basil,

and they couldn't work their fields,

couldn't put their flocks to pasture.

In the end they were saved by the cats they raised.

Every day at dawn a bell would strike

and an army of cats would move into battle.

They'd fight the day long,

until the bell sounded for the evening feed.

Supper done, the bell would sound again

and out they'd go to battle through the night.

They say it was a marvellous sight to see them,

some lame, some blind, others missing

a nose, an ear, their hides in shreds.

So to the sound of four bells a day

months went by, years, season after season.

Wildly obstinate, always wounded,

they annihilated the snakes but in the end disappeared;

they just couldn't take in that much poison.

Like a sunken ship

they left no trace on the surface:

not a miaow, not a bell even.

Steady as you go!

Poor devils, what could they do,

fighting like that day and night, drinking

the poisonous blood of those snakes?

Generations of poison, centuries of poison.'

'Steady as you go,' indifferently echoed the helmsman.

                                    Wednesday, 5 February, 1969

(Translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard)