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A small regional Mastodon instance for those in the DC, Maryland, and Virginia areas. Local news, commentary, and conversation.

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Andrew Kuchling

I'm reading a biography of Victorian-era British composer Ethel Smyth (QUARTET: HOW FOUR WOMEN CHANGED THE MUSICAL WORLD, by Leah Broad). Smyth's early years could be turned into a historical comedy. For example:

"The closest she came to marriage was a whirlwind romance with William Wilde, Oscar Wilde's shorter-haired, bearded brother, whom she met on a trip to Ireland. ... On the ship back to England the two sat under the stars wrapped up in a blanket, debating philosophers' relative merits, shivering slightly as they tasted the salt lingering on their lips, carried by the cold sea air. The romantic mood was broken only briefly by a seasick Ethel vomiting on William. But he was undeterred, and by the end of the voyage the two were engaged, the result of an impulsive proposal made atop a collapsing biscuit tin."