Open Writing

At a university drinks party I am chatting to an ultra-feminist philosophy don called Helena Blane-Larson and her husband Wilfred, a merchant banker.

A loud male voice can be heard above the hubbub.

'Oh, I do hope he'll pipe down,' says Helena, uneasily.

'Yes, he sounds like a typical pompous academic,' rasps Wilfred. 'Hasn't a clue about the outside world and hasn't done a day's work in his life.'

'Oh, I can't agree with you on that, darling,' says Helena, blushing slightly.

'Who is he, anyway?' I ask.

Helena replies, 'Don't you recognise the voice? He's on the radio sometimes. In fact he'll be on Radio 3 tomorrow, with the first of his new series.'

I spot the speaker. He is tall, with a narrow head and untidy white hair.

'Ah,' I say, 'isn't he the philosopher chappie?'

Helena laughs. 'Not the only philosopher chappie,' she says, 'though he does tend to think so at times.'

'Hm, being a colleague of his, you must know him quite well, then?' I say.

'I do indeed - especially as I studied under him for my first degree.'

'Under him, darling?' asks Wilfred, now paying attention.

'Yes, under is the usual term for a student vis-a-vis a tutor, as you well know,' Helena says. 'And it will also apply, literally, if the student and the tutor establish - '

'Hang on, dear,' Wilfred cuts in. 'As a feminist you can't approve of any woman being under any man in any circumstances, surely?'

'Ah, but you know that I do make exceptions, darling,' says Helena, coyly.

'Exceptions, plural?’ asks Wilfred, suspiciously.