Week Woman

A Pox on the Patriarchy

Hell Hath No Righteousness Like a Raver Reformed

- Caroline Criado-Perez

Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth,
that are written down old with all the characters of
age? Have you not a moist eye? a dry hand? a
yellow cheek? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an
increasing belly? is not your voice broken? your
wind short? your chin double? your wit single? and
every part about you blasted with antiquity?

- Henry IV Part ii

Last night I dreamt I went to Pemberley again. But just as I was reaching that hallowed hall, wherein moodily paces Darcy, patriarch of my dreams, I was awoken. ‘Damnit’ I said, ‘what is this dog doing on my face?’ (For there was a dog on my face). 

I can’t be entirely sure what led my aunt’s dog to seek refuge on my face, but I believe he was actually trying to wake me, in order that I could share his pain. Because, in the misty midst of recognising that I was having my dreams dashed, I became aware of some thudding. And as I floundered in Austenian fog, the thudding got louder – or maybe my hearing became more acute.

I was reminded of a memorable occasion when, after an all-nighter followed by a day’s work at a bookshop, I found myself at a friend’s flat. She had put on Sense & Sensibility in an attempt to cope with the shivering, gibbering shell of a wreck that had melted onto her sofa. But, hang on, I thought, terribly confused, why is there a cracking bassline coming out of the TV? Did they have breakbeat in the eighteenth century? These were the erudite thoughts going through my addled mind. It was surreal, and frankly, it was a little disturbing.

So you may imagine how I felt last night to not only find that it was happening again, but that on top of everything else, I had to cope with this mind-chilling flashback while a dog settled himself callously on my face. And added to this was the smarting realisation that I had yet again failed to seal the deal with Mr Darcy.

Oh cruel world! Here I was, taking the summer off from the city, and now I had to cope with a dog/techno/darcy menage. I tried to put the pillow over my head, but what with the dog already there, I couldn’t breathe and, on balance, it seemed advisable not to suffocate. I removed the pillow. The dog started to howl. I started to weep – and not just in anger, but in sorrow.

Yes, sorrow, dear reader, sorrow. Sorrow, because this was my Falstaff moment. And yea verily was I blasted with antiquity.

Gone were the days when I verily merrily stayed up all weekend and emerged at the end of it only in need of a hamburger to set me straight. Oh no. I knew what lay ahead. I knew that the next day was going to be a day spent flopping over my laptop and shoving food down my throat in a desperate attempt to garner up enough energy to string a cogent sentence together. Or even just a sentence. Cogency optional.

What had become of me? What had become of the girl who was to be found striding down the Farringdon Road at seven in the morning, wearing massive sunglasses and my treasured sleeping bag coat?

Reader, she had died, never to be seen again. I had killed her. And the dog on my face was not helping to soothe my troubled ego – I was old, I was past it, and I was in a very undignified position.

Morning came, the thudding continued, my metaphysical, existential musing reached a crescendo.

Unable to bear either the music in my ears, or the elderly nimby in my head, I decided to kill them both off at once. I grabbed the dog and rampaged across the countryside in search of the rave. I ran across fields, I struggled through hedges, I slipped into ditches, I got stung by nettles. But I was Week Woman. I acknowledge no obstacles. I would persevere, and I would overcome.

Except, then it started to rain. And I got cold. I got wet. The dog had its tail between its legs and stared at me mournfully. ‘You are mad, Week Woman’, he said. ‘I have lost faith in your sanity. You have let me down. You have let yourself down. You have let your past down. I demand that you take me home.’

So I did. Head hanging, pride pounded, I tried to saunter with panache, even as the water trickled down my face. But I knew, and the dog knew, that this bravado was fooling no-one.

I, an ex-raver, arrived home, soggy and defeated, never having found the rave.

The music continues.

72 comments on “Hell Hath No Righteousness Like a Raver Reformed

  1. partypizzazz
    August 3, 2012

    I loved this! And it kind of reminded me of the Lizzie Bennet Diaries for obvious reasons.

    • Week Woman
      August 3, 2012

      Glad you liked it! And thanks – I’ll take a look :)

  2. shitisokay
    August 3, 2012

    Reblogged this on shitisokay.

  3. great post…., Iwill come back for more…:)

  4. Malcolm Greenhill
    August 2, 2012

    Beautiful writing.

  5. Natasiarose
    August 2, 2012

    The Bronte sisters looked down on Jane Austen and yet the twain merge so successfully in this post. Fun read.

  6. santhini
    August 1, 2012

    Oh ,that Mr.Darcy could induce such feelings in many a damsel in another era, remains a mystery even to me, Elizabeth Bennett’s worthy rival. Excellent Post ! Love from another country.. xx. Keep posting :)

  7. beasleygreen
    August 1, 2012

    Great bit of prose their Ms. Woman, a genuinely enjoyable read – and I believe all of it. Being a Manc I have raved with Cockney’s and Southerners in the past and I have to say that you guys do the do and keep on doing it until there is no more doing to be done… and then you carry on… but this time I’ll follow :-P

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Ha! Thanks very much! (how did you know I was a southerner??)

  8. Lyn Ferrand
    August 1, 2012

    Brilliant!

  9. Ed
    August 1, 2012

    I’ve heard of the classics but dare not read them for fear of being misunderstood. I love your work.

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      ha! thanks v much for the lovely comment :)

  10. normalfornorfolk
    August 1, 2012

    What a brilliant post! I’m glad i’m not alone re the aging raver bit! I found this on the freshly pressed, and like others, I was attracted by the title. I am now going to spend some time checking out your other posts. :-)

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Yes, it’s been very reassuring to realise the many in the WP community share my pain! Glad you enjoyed the post – and thanks for taking the time to have a look around! Loved your latest post btw

      • normalfornorfolk
        August 1, 2012

        Really? Thank you! I am new to this blogging lark, so it is early days and I’m trying to find my style, I think. I have a long way to go before I can write anything as impressive as you folks on here, but we all have to start somewhere! :-)

      • Week Woman
        August 1, 2012

        Yes we do – and I’m v new too – not even a month yet I think!

      • normalfornorfolk
        August 1, 2012

        I’d best get my little bloggy skates on then and start working a bit harder!

  11. welikethemoon
    August 1, 2012

    Ha. Very nice. I also wish I was at Pemberley again.

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Ah, but in our dreams, we always shall be!

  12. Alyssa
    August 1, 2012

    I like the way you write your thoughts and emotions on this entry; makes it an interesting read. Love it! Congrats on making this post to freshly pressed, by the way. :D

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    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Thank you very much – and yes, was astounded to make it to Freshly Pressed – not quite sure how that happened!

  13. cartoonmick
    August 1, 2012

    I’m on the dog’s side !!!

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Boooooooooooo!

      • cartoonmick
        August 2, 2012

        But I could be bribed……………….

  14. Writing Jobs
    August 1, 2012

    That was another excellent post today. You make it look so easy. Thanks so much for sharing. I really enjoyed reading it very much. Have a wonderful day!

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    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Thank you very much – glad you enjoyed it :)

  15. samokan
    August 1, 2012

    Love it. I wish you will dream of Mr. Darcy again :)

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      I’m sure I will!

      • samokan
        August 1, 2012

        give my regards, will ya?

  16. Kiya Krier - Runs With Blisters
    August 1, 2012

    Hilarious. Great imagery.

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Thank you! Lovely to get comments like this

  17. alex
    August 1, 2012

    this really made me laugh. I’m the guy who loves loud music, but plays it softly – many are the nights where a song I love has become my torment from the next room as a party turns my attempts at sleep into ragefest 2012.

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Ha! That was definitely a fest I was attending that night

  18. Scott
    August 1, 2012

    The title of your post drew me to it, and the writing of your post kept me focused on it. Excellent work!

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Thanks v much – v glad you enjoyed it :)

  19. kitchenmudge
    August 1, 2012

    Well crafted, but is that really an alternate spelling of “dammit”?

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      It is – UK spelling. And thank you!

      • beasleygreen
        August 1, 2012

        There’s only one kind of correct spelling and that be UK spelling!

  20. fashionmudra
    August 1, 2012

    Love Love Love your turn of phrase :)

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Thank you – that’s lovely to hear :)

  21. Jessamine in PDX
    August 1, 2012

    I love the part about having just needed hamburger to set you straight. I remember those days too! Now it takes me a full day to recover and (after some really wild nights) maybe even a second. I recall going full force, day after day, week after week in college. Growing up is so hard sometimes!

    Anyways — love the post, your writing style and your sense of humor! =)

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Thanks v much :) I try to tell myself it’s because I overdid the hardcore raving, rather than just age – but suspect I’m kidding myself…

  22. melankooli
    August 1, 2012

    You write fabulously! Hindsight maketh a better story. I can certainly relate. Do you find the term “progressive” re: Techno annoying? Because it still sounds the same. haha, yes I’m old too :)

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Thank you! But dear god – am so old I don’t think I’ve even heard of that!

      • melankooli
        August 1, 2012

        well it’s not in my repertoire either, Mr Darcy on the other hand…..

      • Week Woman
        August 1, 2012

        Ha! Oh Mr Darcy thou cruel tempter…

  23. ryandavidcampbell
    August 1, 2012

    hi-lar-io-us. as a former raver myself, i can relate. thanks for the great start to my morning.

  24. judyjudygirl
    August 1, 2012

    Rave on Week Woman and let no animal whimsy squelch your revelry !!! !!!

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Thanks for the encouragement!

  25. ishg
    August 1, 2012

    Boy, you’re so articulate when you’re sloshed. =P Kudos!

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Ah if only I had been sloshed! Was stone-cold sober – just very knackered and a bit cross!

  26. The Readist
    August 1, 2012

    Dear Lord! Did you see that dog’s hem…six inches in mud!

  27. iconicallyrare
    August 1, 2012

    I get your stye and emotion…very cool

  28. OmegaAfroVivaldi
    August 1, 2012

    Great post! Please come and check out my blog @ http://thedailydoseofliterature.wordpress.com/. The more followers, the more posts :)

  29. Mikalee Byerman
    August 1, 2012

    I love that dogs seem to look at people’s faces and see a pillow. They’re awesome like that… ;)

    • Week Woman
      August 1, 2012

      Inexplicable, but quite sweet really :)

  30. L'existentielle
    July 29, 2012

    Moi, je n’ai jamais trouvé le ‘rave’.
    Toujours il se cache, ce ‘rave’.
    Toujours il pleut et je suis trompée jusqu’a l’os.
    Toujours le chien qui se couche sur mon visage.
    Toujours je suis crevée.
    Toujours l’inferne;
    la tristesse;
    le colère.

    Et toujours la musique, elle continue.

    Moi, je comprends.

    • Week Woman
      July 29, 2012

      C’est impossible à exprimer combien j’adore cette poème. Le douleurs. La tristesse. C’est magnifique. C’est…ça.

  31. Emily January
    July 29, 2012

    I love the opening line of this post! :)

    • Week Woman
      July 29, 2012

      Glad you enjoyed it! I felt quite smug about it myself

      • Emily January
        July 29, 2012

        You should feel smug about it! Not everybody will pick up the reference, nor will they realize your changing Manderley to Pemberley. Very clever! Kudos! I feel smug for you. :)

      • Week Woman
        July 30, 2012

        :)

      • Emily January
        August 1, 2012

        Congrats on Freshly Pressed!

      • Week Woman
        August 1, 2012

        Thank you! Feel very honoured (and a bit confused as to how it happened!)

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