As I write, I’m somewhat distracted by the noise of holes being drilled in breeze blocks. This commotion courtesy of downstairs wet room construction being undertaken around ten feet away, between chez Strachan’s garage and entrance hall.
I’ve never been party to the noise emitted when a rhinoceros undergoes circumcision without anaesthetic. However, I’d venture the prevailing cacophonous soundscape would be pretty close to the cries of discomfort a rhino’d emit when undergoing such an intrusive procedure.
Instinct tells me you’ll not be overly surprised I’ve never encountered first hand an odd-toed ungulate requiring such veterinary intervention – After all, these animals aren’t native to the UK. Additionally, even if they were, the likelihood I’d have an opportunity to witness such a procedure in, say, a zoo is highly unlikely.
If truth be told, I’ve no idea if rhinos have foreskins, and if they did, what circumstances would necessitate removal. I’d like to think, though, if they were ever to undergo such a delicate veterinarian operation they’d receive local anaesthesia, negating any caterwauls similar to my current soundscape….. Although on reflection, for the animal doctors safety, perhaps a general anaesthetic would be a more sensible pre-procedure option.
On the plus side, if what I’m hearing emanating from the hallway is indeed a rhinoceros being shorn of its foreskin, not the dislodging of breeze blocks, it should provide enough raw material to at least re-cover the leather armchair upstairs.
Ordinarily, I pen these narrative in a self-depreciating format akin to comic heroes of mine, such as Les Dawson and Bob Monkhouse. Today though I’m going to afford myself a pat on the back for possessing a mind creative enough to’ve written almost 300 words on the topic of rhinoceros genital adaptions.
Some may deem Friday’s idiosyncratic observations to be the stuff of lunacy; proffering them to be utterances from the asylum. However, the defence would like to call to the stand Aristotle, your honour. The philosopher planning to inform the jury that no great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.
Incidentally, I’m not vain glorious enough to claim my mind is great. However, I’d humbly suggest that despite their eccentricity, the previous few hundred locutions are evidential I possess a highly fertile creative mind.
As I commence this segment of the prose, the incessant cacophony bestowed from drilling, or maybe rhino circumcision, has given way to an audible backdrop of builders coughing up breeze block dust. An aural symphony accompanied by a lump hammer smacking against the recently unbridled blocks in three-quarter time.
It’s a dark harmony, but what it loses in melodic beauty is made up by gritty artistic authenticity; enlightening its niche audience to the hard labour builders expend to formulate their works of art. This prevailing construction concert eventually, I hope, providing a completed canvas of beauty and functionality.
Pretentious notions on a grand scale by yours truly, perhaps. However, art is everything which induces emotions in us, and because of that anything can be art. Art can be ugly, depicted in acts of war, ingrained within the unnatural and natural. A landscape is art, music is art, along with individual atoms making up intricate objects being art.
If you open your mind to your surroundings, anything can take on an artistic slant….. Even the sound of a rhino being circumcised!!
