A Mini Epic
June
I caught up with an old friend in Bristol last weekend and we spent some of our time together snickering over the casting of the new film version of The Odyssey, out next month. Can Matt Damon really embody the great Greek hero Odysseus? He’s only twelve years old, after all, a fresh-faced poster-boy for action-film innocence, not a gnarly old traveller who has travelled the world, battled with monsters, and returned to find his home and family tragically changed.
It turns out Matt Damon has a beard now. He has got old. As, it transpires, have we. The thought of heading out on an epic journey makes us feel a little weary. We are not unadventurous, but we also hanker less after grand quests and daring endeavours and more after an evening stroll to a nice restaurant for an early dinner, so we can be back in our pyjamas on the sofa by 9pm for some peppermint tea and a chat.
By the time I got home, I did feel somewhat like Odysseus, however. Before my trip to the West Country, I had also journeyed north for a work event. I packed a bag and waved goodbye to the cat. I spent a couple of days wandering the streets of Manchester, past pubs playing grungy music and groups of kids bartering for cigarettes outside the library and the clattering of pans in China Town. I let the sounds of city call to me like sirens. I had taken a train via Birmingham New Street, where I found myself assailed with memories of my student years in the city, represented in nostalgic murals painted on the walls of the shiny new railway station: Snobs, where I had danced and fallen in and out of love, and the inevitable greasy spoon café, Mr Egg.
I used to travel all the time in my old working life, either trekking up to London to teach at the university or jetting off to meetings and conferences overseas; but now I spend most of my time in West Oxfordshire, often sat safe in my cosy study, only three steps away from the bedroom. A few days away somewhere new or different, albeit up the M6 or M4 rather than around Greek islands, can be expansive, epic. I arrived back in the village late on Saturday through a sea of green and slipped through the back door into the kitchen. The floor had been swept and a vase of flowers sat on the dining table. My family welcomed me warmly and listened to my travellers’ tales.
Make your own mini epic:
Reimagine your day as a Greek myth. Your commute to work becomes a voyage across the Ionian Sea. You are beset by cannibals on your visit to the supermarket. Devise a test you have to pass to be admitted back into your house. Be playful, but most of all be heroic.
Revisit somewhere from your past, ideally from your youth. If you cannot do this in person, take 10 minutes to do some internet searches – explore residents’ forums, picture galleries, Google maps. Now imagine yourself there, meeting the younger version of you. How do these two selves navigate the place differently? What conversations do they have? Spend 20 minutes writing the scene.
Write down as many words as you can about your home. Think about the physical space and the emotions it evokes, the people within it and its history beyond you. Write a short passage or poem with the title ‘Homecoming’ using these words as inspiration.
