Waxing Lyrical

I’ve been slightly-off-world lately, in great part thanks to the interesting side-effects of the counter-intuitively trade-named Lyrica which continue to steal my words and give me other ones instead.

Par example:

The other day I was sitting in the sunny patch on my doorstep* directing S as to how exactly I wanted the gardening chores done when, while sipping my tea, a clever, space-saving thought struck.

"S," I said, "is there anywhere on the wall to hang my rain-barrows?"

"Your... what?" came the reply, quizzically.

"My rain-barrows. If they were hung on the wall it'd save space and clutter."

"I don't get it. What are they, again?"

"Rain Barrows!" I enunciated clearly, although at this point I was beginning to doubt that I was using the correct term and wonder what on earth might be another word for them.

"Rain-barrows?" I repeated, somewhat hesitantly, pointing at one of the rain-barrows which was perched six feet away from me on top of some empty plant-pots. "Barrows," I said, while thinking it isn't a barrow it's something, um, "for carrying rain," not rain, that doesn't come out of taps, "to spread on the..." Damn - that’s not right... My voice faltered away.

"Watering-can?" S suggested, gently, while stifling mirth...

I could only nod. And blush. And start to giggle.

I prefer ‘rain-barrow’ now. It's a much better name for the object, since I often find mine filled up with a few days'-worth of free liquid from the sky and imagine that others do. Mine would be filled by the down-pipe in the guttering sometimes if it weren't for the slight obstacle of all the drain-pipes from the flat roof of this block of flats (and the balconies) being built inside the walls and linked directly to the main drain. 

Waste of rain! Plus, ultimately, it is rain that comes out of the taps. And barrows surely don't have to have wheels...

* Don’t be daft - I was sat upon a chair. I’m not quite limber enough, these days, to sit on the step. Well, just not and get up again...

Yell...............................................ow!

An Open Letter To My Friend And To All Whom It May Concern

(Pursuant to my visit to your blog as per your request to tell you what you'd written. More accurately, to tell you whether what you'd written had appeared where you expected it.)

I thought, since I was visiting your blog, that I'd have a read of the butternut squash one 'again'. I'm sure I'd read it before. So: "Hurrah!", I thought. "This was good - I'll read it again!" 

But (and this is where I became distraught, teary and all quivery in the lower lip department) IT. IS. IN. YEL... No! I can't type it :-( 

My least favourite colour except when, in nature, it is the approved colour for members of the narcissus family, buttercups (golden, in truth) and mustard. But as a type-face colour* it is painful, confusing, impossible and just plain wrong! 

I cannot read it. It zings through my eyes, ricochets down the optic nerve, reverberating and rebounding and amplifying as it goes, heading for my brain, creating havoc as it goes into a feedback loop and deafens my letter- and word- identification system. There's a proper word for that and it involves neurons and, for all I know when faced with yel (EEK!) typefaces, neutron bombs being lobed [sic] in all directions. And the only message I get from the page I'm looking at is, "Run away! Flee! Fire! Foe!"

I run. Slam closed the book. Hit "Command, Double-U" reflexively. Turn swiftly away from the advertising hoarding. Anything but look at the colour which hurts us, precious, it burns... 

So:

PLEASE change the colour! Pink is fine. Electric Blue, ditto. Flourescent Green, even. All against a white background, naturally, Because I want to read your words, your thoughts, your rants, your outpourings, your witterings. Truly.

But please, do not confront me with anything ye**ow.

Unless it's a banana.

xxx J

*Let alone walls, carpets, furniture... indeed ANYTHING which is not a flower or a fruit or a wasp or an hornet. And NEVER the colour of oilseed-rape. Shudder.


Edit of comments at 1.05am Friday: I've taken down two comments - one from my friend Severin who has, to my great relief, kindly changed the type-face colour of his blog which is rather x-rated far  more often than not...  The second was my reply to his comment which is out of context once Severin's comment is gone. If you are adult and determined to press on and find his 'prattlings' then I've given you enough clues ;-)
sJ