Dragons

I was thinking about dragons and my thoughts (and internet research) swung between where the idea of dragons originally came from and my own exciting imaginative journeyings into the world of the fire-breathing scaly chaps. Theorists have it that the fact that ancient literature from all over the world refers to dragons is proof that humans and dinosaurs must have roamed the world together; otherwise, how would this common image have existed amongst so many different nationalities? 

  In ancient times (a slightly vague term) people didn't doubt the existence of dragons. When big bones were found, they pondered whether they came from elephants, giants or from our friend the dragon. It wasn't until 1841 that English scientist Richard Owens suggested that perhaps the bones were from dinosaurs. 

  However, whilst this history mildly interested me, the other direction my brain was tugging me in felt much more rich in content. Smaug, the hoarding and meticulous dragon of The Hobbit who got a bit hot and bothered when Bilbo nicked a cup from him, was the first dragon that fuelled my imagination. There was something both terrifying and fascinating about Smaug and I was disappointed that Lord of the Rings failed to deliver any further dragon action. 

  Whilst reading C.S. Lewis's The Voyage of the Dawn Treader I wondered what it would be like to embody a dragon as Eustace does when he falls asleep on a dragon's hoard with dragonish desires. And then Christopher Paolini's Eragon got me dreaming of riding a dragon through the skies battling the evil forces of the world. 

  However, it is those tiny dragons in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire that feel to me to be a more attainable goal. I weirdly put realistic limitations on my fantasies. I'm not going to steal from a dragon, become a dragon or ride a dragon tomorrow, but perhaps I can have a miniature dragon curled up asleep, nestling in the top pocket of my shirt tomorrow morning while I teach Year 11; while I point out a metaphor he can snooze away enjoying the steady thumping of my heart. At lunchtime he will take a lazy stroll across my desk blowing out one yawning jet of fire. I'll keep a careful eye on him, extinguishing any paperwork that he happens to ignite. He'd make the perfect lighter if I ever had anything to light. After lunch I'd let him go for a fly around and in the evening he could wander around my house and join me staring vacant-eyed at the television as bedtime approaches. My dragon would be called Arthur and he would surely be the coolest pet ever.