Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end.
So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.
My favorite cartoon bear was Yogi Bear who was the gruff philospher of Jellystone Park. Oh and uh, hey hey Boo Boo. He was smarter than the average bear.
Amethyst SkellyBones Angel I wrestled with horror for a few years after joining WdC. It's not really my thing but I figured that horror included disgust, so that's what I aimed for. My real breakthrough came when I gave up and wrote comedy horror instead. It's amazingly easy.
🦉 Owl-oween The trick is to live in the imagined country. Then, if you need to know something about the place, all you have to do is see for yourself. After all, it's your head that the country inhabits and vice versa.
I had cause this morning to look up the words to the nursery rhyme, Miss Polly Had a Dolly. To my surprise, I found that the British version has one small but significant difference from the American. Here’s the version Google knows:
Miss Polly had a dolly who was sick, sick, sick
And she called for the doctor to come quick, quick
The doctor came with his bag and his hat
And he knocked at the door with a rat-a-tat-tat
He looked at the dolly and he shook his head
And he said, "Miss Polly, put her straight to bed"
He wrote on a paper for a pill, pill, pill
I'll be back in the morning if the baby's still ill
The only difference in the Brit poem is in the last line, which goes:
I'll be back in the morning with my bill bill bill
Apart from the facts that the words hark back to an earlier time when doctors still travelled to the patient, and that the poem’s origins are shrouded in mystery, reality insists that I prefer the British version.
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