The Filosopher's Daughter

Last week I was supping ale in our local rhyming slang inn, The Old Ship and Anchor, with the proverbial Farmer Giles. We talked about the old days when I sailed back and forth across the Solent with my trusted crew. I recalled one evening when they sat down for their well-earned meal after a day of splicing the mainbrace and other nautical things I was never too sure about, only for there to be unrest among the men. The ship's cook had prepared his signature dish of roast leg of lamb with rosemary, on account of his name being Rosemary Lamb and the crew pulled his leg about it. This dark and stormy night, both literally and metaphorically, he had rather overcooked it. The events of that night became part of local folklore, referred to in hushed tones as the episode of muttony on the Isle of Wight ferry. How I survived the night cast adrift on the seven sisters is a story for much later.

Not to be outdone, the rather competitive proverbial Farmer Giles told me how he could trace his family back to that great fellow filosopher Farmer John Stuart Giles. John had a beautiful daughter called Felicity who often helped him tend to the cattle. She was very concerned about their welfare and worked hard to maximise the happiness of the cattle. To achieve this, she realised that sometimes a cow had to suffer in order for the herd to benefit as a whole. She thus gave her name to the Felicity Cowculus, although some of the less kind villagers spoke of Felicity's Proclivity - her interest in maximising happiness in the hay when the sun shone.

As a footnote to this interesting little piece of history, Felicity was known to suffer from a profound lisp. When she told visitors that she worked in ethics, they often misunderstood that she worked in Essex. It is a small world, with the makings of an oxymoron for those who know.