How to Cuckhold Covid

Feb 17, 2021 | PRINT

How do I start this post. I love writing because I love words. I possibly love words because as a child I was told “children are to be seen but not to be heard”. The written word is still silent. Unless you read out loud. This humbling but warmly coated paternal unprompted piece of advice was supported in my childhood by my French teacher Mlle Chauffard, at Lycée Paul Claudel on rue de Grenelle, 7 ème arr., Paris. She told me, the year I was writing and orally defending parts of French literature, that I should perhaps go back to the basics and spend some money in summer school. One of my proudest moment occurred when she accosted me in my school’s paved courtyard that autumn, Talleyrand’s home, half our school and half of the 7ème arrondissement’s mayor’s home during my final year. She was a tall reedy person with a short severe bespectacled bob. She looked upon me with pity. “How did you do Henrietta?”. The French Bac is decided by two different judges on two different subjects disserted in two different ways on two different days. I may have been lucky. “Did you follow up on my advice?”. It wasn’t necessary to tell her I hadn’t. My score, my “note” was the highest of that year and entire class. I relayed her the marks I remember to this day: 14/20 written. 16/20 oral. She stood there. In a corner I still dream of. This was my first altercation with an adult where I felt I was looked upon by an adult as an adult. A moment like this is pressed upon you when you are passing childhood. Point is: I love writing. I love the freedom of expression. I particularly have found comfort in alliteration. It soothes me. Needless to say I was excited to present @luxemagazineottawa with my craftily worded « How To Cuckhold Covid » piece. Pandemic shortcomings had me shooting part of the illustrative in my backyard. With my daughter. For some reason my brilliant editor didn’t see the word “cuckhold” play out that well across her face. No kidding. She was right. Mlle Chauffard was also right. Going back to the board and thinking through words, this is not my forte, it is a strength I forever more avidly and diligently seek.