The pond apologises in advance ...
You see, that Devine splash, with its hair-tearing, existentially angsty photo, and its logline about sandwiches swept the pond back to happier, simpler, sweeter, more innocent times ...
Ah, there was a time on a Sunday when the pond happily meditated with the Jensenist factotums ... or the Jensenist jihadis, or the Calvinist ultimatum cavaliers, or the complementary women conspirators, if you will ...
Happy days, even without the Fonz, but with the Jensenists banished, the current mob are canny. Still barking mad, but boring and mad in a north by north west way, ducking and weaving out of sight ...
It's why the pond lined up for a double dose of the Devine, even though the best medical authorities in the land warn that this is an exceptionally risky procedure ...
Talk about heart-rending, and as for those wretched, saucy harridans with their uppity ways ...
Clearly urgent advice was needed, and the pond knew where to find it ...
The pond loves its ancient advertising.
Lost social attitudes, lost times, quaint for those who lived through it, even quainter for those who can't imagine what it was like, at least until they read the Devine and are swept back to the 1950s and the days when conservative Catholic fundamentalism ruled the roost...
The pond could sense that it would all slip wildly out of control.
The poignant Devine story would get lost in a blizzard of period advertisements ... or ones that had a meme quality to them ...
The pond knew it had to break free of the chains and return to the Devine for stark, sombre tales of inordinate suffering ...
All this was sociologically potent ...
And yet the lure of the ads was strong, overwhelming, over-powering ...
Perhaps if the pond served the Devine in smaller portions ...
But that just created a sense that there was more space for ads.
If sandwichs were such a big problem, what about soup?
What about some condiments or unguents?
Perhaps the pond could dress it up with a sociological reminder of the importance of cans?
The pond was getting numb, and the Devine was getting irretrievably lost amongst the welter of ads ... and now there was time for only one last gobbet!
Indeed, indeed, and the pond knew the solution. Forget the sandwiches, go the fluids ...
And if you wake up perky in the morning, we all know what that means for your man ...
Just make sure the SA is still working ...
And remember to cultivate paranoia about ageing and personal hygiene ...
In all that excitement and controversy and personal despair over deep matters, the pond almost plumb forgot that anything had happened the previous week ...
Ah well, never mind, with the Devine done and dusted, and a hearty meal of soup and a perky morning in hand, it was time to head off to church this meditative Sunday ...
Love those ads, DP. They bring back a whole world of my long lost youth. Now all we need is the scrawny guy getting sand kicked in his face on the beach and my nostalgia is complete.
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