Thursday 21 April 2011
Monday 18 April 2011
Kicking the bucket [list]
Do you remember the story of Robert the Bruce and a spider that he was watching? I never really understood why it was so inspiring to Scots! If you have a friend that's a Scott you may know what I mean. They sort of stand with their heads slightly on the lilt, their pissed, glazed eyes looking to the heaven, mildly idiotic expression plastered onto their faces and then they'll say something like 'aye, that's an example fe ye, n'y nai t' guvup!'... spittle running down their chins.
So I've been ruminating on a little spider experience that I had a couple of weeks ago, wondering what gem was in it for me to pass on to my fellows down here in the land of underlings! I'll tell you what happened, and then I'll tell you what finally came to me:
So there I was in the downstairs loo taking a slash, when I noticed a spider on the floor in the corner behind the toilet bowl. It's not normally a place that I dwell, but I bent down and had a closer look. He'd built a very messy nest in the corner and was sitting under it. I blew it gently and he (or she!) huddled further in. I normally operate a 'no tolerance' approach to spiders, and until recently when I saw one getting it's legs pulled off by a tarantula wasp, I wouldn't have given one the time of day. And it's not really surprising really, we have almost all of the deadliest spiders here in Oz, and the chances that we have a couple of them in the house at any one time are quite high. Never-the-less, this one, for some reason looked ... oh i dunno, sort of sad!
Over the next week or so, I noticed that he was still there, nothing changing, maybe he'd move a little, but not much. Finally I noticed that there was a couple of flies in the web... dead, but not wrapped up or eaten, and no bits missing. I bent down again and blew him (or her) again. Nothing. It was dead.
Well....
Flippin 'eck! All that waiting around and nothing. He pegs it, and THEN there's not one but two flies in their for him! How cruel is the hand of fate? How perverse the roll of the die [sic]. I wondered what Brucie would have made of this whilst quaffing his 12 year old malt and re-adjusting his hairy sporran? To me, it was just sad. I thought that it was a parallel to illustrate my own life. I feel like I've spent years and years waiting for something good to happen! It'll be like that for the rest of my life, I'll shuffle of the mortal coil and Daile will do the lottery for the first time in her life and win! She'll build the house of my dreams and operate her own psychology clinic, Josh will publish his book and it'll be a best seller, Molly will paint a BP portrait winner, Tild will become a celebrated entomologist, and Phoebe will open her own fashion label. I'll be dead... with my skinny legs all curled up under me like that little spider.
That's what I thought.
Then I got pissed and suddenly saw it! (Like Bruce). It wasn't a painting of my own life, but a sign from the all seeing DOG that I need to gird my loins, polish up the top hat and get out there to make sure that I don't peg it with too many things on my Bucket list.
I'll keep you posted! Now where did I put that beer?
So I've been ruminating on a little spider experience that I had a couple of weeks ago, wondering what gem was in it for me to pass on to my fellows down here in the land of underlings! I'll tell you what happened, and then I'll tell you what finally came to me:
So there I was in the downstairs loo taking a slash, when I noticed a spider on the floor in the corner behind the toilet bowl. It's not normally a place that I dwell, but I bent down and had a closer look. He'd built a very messy nest in the corner and was sitting under it. I blew it gently and he (or she!) huddled further in. I normally operate a 'no tolerance' approach to spiders, and until recently when I saw one getting it's legs pulled off by a tarantula wasp, I wouldn't have given one the time of day. And it's not really surprising really, we have almost all of the deadliest spiders here in Oz, and the chances that we have a couple of them in the house at any one time are quite high. Never-the-less, this one, for some reason looked ... oh i dunno, sort of sad!
Over the next week or so, I noticed that he was still there, nothing changing, maybe he'd move a little, but not much. Finally I noticed that there was a couple of flies in the web... dead, but not wrapped up or eaten, and no bits missing. I bent down again and blew him (or her) again. Nothing. It was dead.
Well....
Flippin 'eck! All that waiting around and nothing. He pegs it, and THEN there's not one but two flies in their for him! How cruel is the hand of fate? How perverse the roll of the die [sic]. I wondered what Brucie would have made of this whilst quaffing his 12 year old malt and re-adjusting his hairy sporran? To me, it was just sad. I thought that it was a parallel to illustrate my own life. I feel like I've spent years and years waiting for something good to happen! It'll be like that for the rest of my life, I'll shuffle of the mortal coil and Daile will do the lottery for the first time in her life and win! She'll build the house of my dreams and operate her own psychology clinic, Josh will publish his book and it'll be a best seller, Molly will paint a BP portrait winner, Tild will become a celebrated entomologist, and Phoebe will open her own fashion label. I'll be dead... with my skinny legs all curled up under me like that little spider.
That's what I thought.
Then I got pissed and suddenly saw it! (Like Bruce). It wasn't a painting of my own life, but a sign from the all seeing DOG that I need to gird my loins, polish up the top hat and get out there to make sure that I don't peg it with too many things on my Bucket list.
I'll keep you posted! Now where did I put that beer?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)