Scribbly Gum

Jinksy's post on Napple Notes today 'Nature as an Artist'- celebrating the (far-from-plain) Plane tree - reminded me of a variety of Eucalyptus I came across in Australia: the Scribbly Gum.

I was told that a little bug gets under the bark and wriggles around. When the tree sheds it's bark (do all Eucalyptus shed their bark? I can't recall) it reveals the path the bug took - as though someone has scribbled on it! What a great name for a tree - maybe we should adopt it as the Patron Tree of Writers ... or think of more imaginative names for the trees we have?

Time To Say Hello To Carolina

Because she is a very clever and witty Dutch lady who writes a blog in English, as well as her native tongue! She has allowed me to persuade her into being a guest in the kitchen, and has thrown this very clever mix into the pot, on the clear understanding that I am copying and pasting her offering from HERE at Brinkbeest in English. I once had the honour to become her very first follower, and have delighted in her humorous writing and delightful photographs ever since. It is easy to see why...

Go nuts, learn Dutch

Our word for bicycle is ‘fiets’
Nothing in Dutch is ‘niets’
Something in Dutch is ‘iets’
And ‘straten’ in English are streets

A kiss is a ‘kus’ or a ‘zoen’
Money is ‘geld’ or even ‘poen’
Brave can be ‘dapper’ or ‘koen’
The man on the ‘maan’ is the man on the moon

Some of our words though are somewhat alike
For instance a dike or a dyke is a ‘dijk’
Although a dyke could also be ‘pot’
But if she likes men, she is not

And my ‘knie’ is your knee
(A difficult walk that will certainly be)
But you have to say ‘Knie’ and not knee without K
I know, it is hard. ‘Het valt nog niet mee.’

You’ve noticed a rhyme scheme is not part of this post
Somewhere along the way it got totally lost
And if you read that out loud, it won’t even rhyme
Some people consider that almost a crime
But I’m not a poet or ‘dichter’ you see
You can’t expect more of someone simple like me.

P.S.  It may say below that this was posted by jinksy, which I guess is true, but I assure you the brains behind the whole thing belong to Carolina.

You Can't Miss It . . . .

it's just  a dozen steps down  from / it's the house with the red front door / small front garden / cat in the window /  metal gate.

Or whatever.

Every time I hear the phrase 'can't miss it'  when given directions to a house on a suburban street my heart sinks.

Whose dozen steps? a giant's , a midget's ? Half the front doors in the street are red, most of them have a small front garden. I count at least four metal gates and the only cats I can see are the ones stalking the road for sparrows.

Please, could I have a flag flying or a loudhailer calling me? It would save me first driving up and down your street,  then doing the same on foot, having had to park the car miles away.

Youthful Merriment

From the local Leeuwarden paper :
" A young man was arrested on Monday evening for throwing eggs out of a third floor window in the middle of town .
He later apologised , saying he'd intended to hit a friend but had hit people sitting on a cafe terrace instead . "
You can see how it might happen ......

Day out

Today I am being treated to a day out in Kidderminster as a cover for picking up yet another ebay purchase by OH for the car.   I do see life!

Blame It On A Wordle

If you wonder what a Wordle is, go  HERE !

Dire Warning- Part The First
                                       
If your girdle starts to wobble
while he spouts a lot of twaddle,
then greet the morn with joy
and do not spurn
a boy whose shy advances
soon burn with ardent glances
designed to make a maiden
blush to peach
though her heart remains
securely out of reach.

Dire Warning- Part The Second                                   

Let silk and tulle enticed him,
promise of a frisson splice him
as surely as a hatchet splices logs;
think of it as kissing lots of frogs
before you find a Prince you can engage
and trap just like a sparrow in a cage.

With a feather touch that lingers
from the tip of gentle fingers,
make him glow with white hot passion
in the best time honoured fashion
till he falls, a willing victim, in your trap,
as you snuggle ever closer on his lap.

Then a ruby trickle leaves the pouting lip,
while greedily from out his veins you sip
as daintily as if from out a cup,
though this tea is not one normal people sup...
till finally you toss him in the hall
to lie, a compact heap, where he may fall.

For him, his sweet rose bud will never flower;
he has reached his unexpected final hour.
There will be no rude awakening
for the fatal kiss has taken him
to heights no human ever likes to scale-
and that my friends, concludes my grisley tale!

Danish Parking, Italian Rules

The last time we were in Denmark, The Great Dane and I got a whopping huge parking ticket.  We thought it might have been because we were driving a rental car with German plates, but we were unable to find out what law we'd broken.  A cousin who is a lawyer told us that we would probably never know.  After reading this in yesterday's local paper (here courtesy of the Telegraph online) I feel that the mystery has been solved.
Who knew that those erstwhile solid (stolid) Danes view traffic rules with a downright Mediterranean attitude?