These place mats are meant to help teach children how to set the table. I made this set for my nephew when he was about 5 years old. He probably already knew how to set the table, but if he inherited any of my genes, he might have had moments when he forgot what goes where.
Not only do the place mats show where the cutlery goes, but they are also an example of what the three primary colours are. To make a set of four, I had to add another colour for the fourth one. Do you know your primary colours? Which one of the set does not belong?
Photo by Sonia.
This purple poppy is so clean and tidy.
Then Miss Bizzy Buzzy Bee has come along and is making a mess. Pollen is everywhere. Since there is no miniature vacuum cleaner available, we can only hope for a breeze and maybe a little shower to clean up.
This ancient Greek theater of Epidaurus was built in the 4th century, BC, right into the west side of Cynortion Mountain in eastern Greece, about 70 km south of the Corinth Canal.
It can seat up to about 14,000 people and has been used for plays and concerts over many hundreds of years.
This photo was taken with a small point and click camera in 1977. The resolution is not great, but what I have noticed in more modern photos of the theater, is that some of the rocks where the stage entrance used to be in 1977, are not there anymore. In fact, much of that area, sadly, has been dismantled. Possibly it is being reconstructed, but it will never be as precious as the original rockwork. In the first photo, I am standing on the far side of that stage entrance. You can see the whole stage entrance area, from a different perspective, in the second photo.
The claim is that the acoustics of the theater are so good that even if you are sitting at the very top of the stadium you can hear a penny dropped in the center of the stage. Of course I had to find out, climbing up to the very top of the seating area. By the way, I had been thinking that it would be uncomfortable to sit through a performance seated on those rocks, but they were incredibly smooth, worn to a perfect polish from centuries of bums.
As a tour bus load of people arrived, I decided to listen in on the tour guide’s lecture. As she did her tourist guide “spiel,” she talked about the perfect acoustics and proceeded to demonstrate them. I could clearly hear the sound when a penny she dropped hit the concrete in the center of the performance area. Then she struck a match, and I heard the scratch of the match on the striking part of the matchbook, and the sizzle of the match as it flamed up.
But, not to be outdone, once the tourist show was over, the Captain took center stage and declared his love for me, calling out in his best Al Jolson imitation, “MAMMY, how I love ya, how I love ya, my dear old mammy.” Not that I was his mother, but I’ll accept the rest of the message. And it was loud and clear, without him having to shout at all.
What a brave guy!
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