.... like the good father of a child who is a pupil at the affiliated primary school, I sang songs of devotion to the ancient externalised constructs of our culture, our patria. And we learnt about St Margaret, a twelfth century celebrity of faith. A figure to aspire to, emulate. But all these things are next to useless, just layers of complex metaphor for love. Love cannot be explained, abridged, abrogated or reduced. It is the beginning and the end. And it seems to dare not speak its name in the day to day traffic of society.