This afternoon, on the way home from school, Oscar and I were discussing the early Christian movement, as you do.
We talked about druids and Romans and Greeks and wended our way through the highways and byways of early religions.
He was, as most children are, most taken with the idea of throwing the Christians into the gladiatorial ring to be mauled by lions.
He’s not anti Christian by the way. I think he’d be happy with anyone except himself being thrown into the ring for his amusement.
We talked about all the gruesome details, happily imagining much snapping of bones and rending of flesh.
He pondered this for a while.
His face lit up and he turned to me, arms flapping like windmills as they do when he gets super excited by an idea.
‘Imagine…….just IMAGINE….what it would be like if you were sent out into the ring, and you were a gladiator and there….just there…was a PARTRIDGE!’
I snorted and said:
‘Well, if the partridge can stand the shock of being released into an amphitheatre of braying Romans out for blood and doesn’t die of trauma first, I give it three minutes before the partridge gets it.’
‘Well. What exactly IS a partridge then?’