The Gods Forget (Love in Pity)
Jun. 25th, 2017 02:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
todayiamadaisyWeekly update: I bought a new kettle. It's a thrill a minute life I lead, let me tell you.
Obviously you will be hanging out to know how Spongebob Quizpants went this week. We have in our office a retired English doctor who teaches remedial doctoring skills. She's a lovely lady, Doctor D. She's in her seventies, walks with a limp, and sounds like the Queen... until she shouts and her voice takes on a timbre that could slice diamonds. Fortunately she doesn't shout very often. Only when she's losing... because the other thing you need to know about Doctor D is that she is extremely competitive. You wouldn't think to look at her. Most of the Spongebob Quizpants team certainly didn't.
Young Catherine, one of the team organisers, and I know different, having seen her in action during our previous quiz team a few years ago. At lunch one day this week Catherine said to me, "Doctor D was quiet last week, wasn't she?"
Young Luke, the other organiser, said, "She was talking like everyone else. How much noise do you expect her to make?" Catherine and I just shook our heads at him. He would learn.
Thursday night came round and we assembled: Luke, Catherine, me, Doctor D, and two new members filling in for people who couldn't make it: the Regional Manager, Ann, and her husband. We started okay with the opening music round, although Catherine, the scribe, misheard me say the name of the band who sang "New Sensation" as NCIS.
The second round was general knowledge. Question two: Who lives at number nine Downing Street? Well. Obviously number ten is the UK Prime Minister, but who lives at number nine? We looked at Doctor D and she looked blank. "The Chancellor of the Exchequer lives at number eleven," she said, "and there's someone, I can't think who, at number twelve. I've never heard of number nine before." We decided that it must be one of the other ministers of state, so we guessed the UK Home Secretary.
At the end of the round we swapped answer sheets with the team next to us for marking. They had put British Foreign Minister for that answer. Who would be right? What a nail-biter!
The quiz master started reading the answers. "Question two: Who lives at number nine Downing Street? The Prime Minister of Britain."
He was drowned out by outrage and refutation. Loudest of all, cutting above the din, was a voice like the Queen having a tantrum. "NO, NO, NO!" Doctor D was out of her seat and into the middle of the floor. "THAT IS NOT RIGHT!"
The quiz master looked like a little boy, despite his bushranger beard. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. I only lived there for fifty-five years." Hers was not a voice to argue with, so he took his phone out and poked at the screen.
"It *is* number ten. Oh, man, they've given me the wrong answer*. Well, um, everyone gets a point and we'll move on."
A cheer went up, but Doctor D wasn't done with him. "But who does live at number nine? Some of us may have got it right."
He tapped at his phone again. "Um, no-one lives there. It's an office to do with Brexit. Did anyone say that?" He looked around the room, but no hands went up. "So, um, a point for everyone."
Doctor D sat down, pleased with a job well done.
* Actually, they gave him the wrong question, didn't they? The answer was fine.
Short version: We came third. Again.
Weekly knitting update: Just the button bands to go.
Obviously you will be hanging out to know how Spongebob Quizpants went this week. We have in our office a retired English doctor who teaches remedial doctoring skills. She's a lovely lady, Doctor D. She's in her seventies, walks with a limp, and sounds like the Queen... until she shouts and her voice takes on a timbre that could slice diamonds. Fortunately she doesn't shout very often. Only when she's losing... because the other thing you need to know about Doctor D is that she is extremely competitive. You wouldn't think to look at her. Most of the Spongebob Quizpants team certainly didn't.
Young Catherine, one of the team organisers, and I know different, having seen her in action during our previous quiz team a few years ago. At lunch one day this week Catherine said to me, "Doctor D was quiet last week, wasn't she?"
Young Luke, the other organiser, said, "She was talking like everyone else. How much noise do you expect her to make?" Catherine and I just shook our heads at him. He would learn.
Thursday night came round and we assembled: Luke, Catherine, me, Doctor D, and two new members filling in for people who couldn't make it: the Regional Manager, Ann, and her husband. We started okay with the opening music round, although Catherine, the scribe, misheard me say the name of the band who sang "New Sensation" as NCIS.
The second round was general knowledge. Question two: Who lives at number nine Downing Street? Well. Obviously number ten is the UK Prime Minister, but who lives at number nine? We looked at Doctor D and she looked blank. "The Chancellor of the Exchequer lives at number eleven," she said, "and there's someone, I can't think who, at number twelve. I've never heard of number nine before." We decided that it must be one of the other ministers of state, so we guessed the UK Home Secretary.
At the end of the round we swapped answer sheets with the team next to us for marking. They had put British Foreign Minister for that answer. Who would be right? What a nail-biter!
The quiz master started reading the answers. "Question two: Who lives at number nine Downing Street? The Prime Minister of Britain."
He was drowned out by outrage and refutation. Loudest of all, cutting above the din, was a voice like the Queen having a tantrum. "NO, NO, NO!" Doctor D was out of her seat and into the middle of the floor. "THAT IS NOT RIGHT!"
The quiz master looked like a little boy, despite his bushranger beard. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. I only lived there for fifty-five years." Hers was not a voice to argue with, so he took his phone out and poked at the screen.
"It *is* number ten. Oh, man, they've given me the wrong answer*. Well, um, everyone gets a point and we'll move on."
A cheer went up, but Doctor D wasn't done with him. "But who does live at number nine? Some of us may have got it right."
He tapped at his phone again. "Um, no-one lives there. It's an office to do with Brexit. Did anyone say that?" He looked around the room, but no hands went up. "So, um, a point for everyone."
Doctor D sat down, pleased with a job well done.
* Actually, they gave him the wrong question, didn't they? The answer was fine.
Short version: We came third. Again.
Weekly knitting update: Just the button bands to go.