Ginger and The Lemon Pip

Today, I noticed a ginger spider sitting on my kitchen worktop hugging a lemon pip. I had squeezed lemons the night before and one pip must have popped out and I hadn’t noticed it. The worktop colour is very similar to the pip colour. Anyway, I blew on Ginger to see if Ginger was alive. Usually when you breathe on insects or spiders, they run for the hills, or dance in the breeze (of your breath). Ginger didn’t move. Is Ginger dead, I thought, or is Ginger just playing dead? I blew on Ginger again and once more for good luck. Nothing. Ginger didn’t move, neither did the pip. Are you calling my bluff? Maybe if I go away and come back again, you might not be there. I decided I would give Ginger some space. Like when a tree falls in a forest and nobody is there, would Ginger leave while no-one was there to experience Ginger’s leaving? So, I went away for a decent amount of time, about fifteen minutes, and when I returned, Lo and Behold, Ginger was indeed gone and so was the pip! Ginger took the pip and fooled me good and proper, called my bluff. Of course, it could have gone two ways for Ginger. She/he could have been bludgeoned to death while he/she played dead, or was carelessly and fatally scooped into the sink, or into a dustbin. Ginger could have met with several horrible deaths, but instead, trusted fate, took a chance, took a risk and played dead, and it paid off. A lesson to us I think. And Ginger and Lemon do go together.

Translation Errors

Displayed on a fence in a wild duck sanctuary in Vietnam, ‘Please Be Afraid Of The Rabbit’

There was also another sign which said, ‘Take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints, kill nothing but ducks.’

In the Far East,

‘Drink here, if not wishing to die yet.’

‘Guests note, there will be a fire on Monday but not to worry.’

‘Please walk in a dangerous way’ I’m sure we’ve all done this at some point.

‘Make room for the psychos’ (discovered in a carpark)

‘There are no naked men here’ (on a restaurant door)

Darn it!

Translation errors sourced from Chris Pascoes Fun Tales, Signs Of Madness, My Weekly

The Stress Of Moving Home

I’ve gotten too big for my shell

Said the hermit crab

It really is too tight

It’s getting awfully uncomfortable

I need to put this right

I can’t swing a cat inside this home

Although I wouldn’t try

I can’t stretch my claws

I can’t even yawn

It just makes me want to cry

But it’s alright

For I have spied

A nice big shell quite still

I think it belonged to a sea snail

I’ll bagsy that I will

I’m pretty sure it’s empty

I think that shell’s ‘To Let’

I think he’s defo left it

I think that’s a sure bet

There’s no ‘For Sale’ sign

And there’s even a welcome rug

Oh it’s so big and roomy

I won’t be snug as a bug

I can have wild parties in this shell

Now I’ll never be alone

I really love this shell

There’s no stress of moving home.

Man or Mouse

Are you a man or a mouse

Is an outdated phrase

Quite sexist when you think

Sounds strange these days

We’re wise enough to know

We have to be brave

Can’t hide away

Or go live in a cave

Need to get away from the dark

Walk away from the pain

Embrace the future

The past has no gain

Courage is a friend

It has invested in you

Waits behind the cloud

Waits for your cue

After courage comes happiness

Elusive though it seems

Don’t give up on life

Don’t give up on your dreams

Life is for the taking

It’s yours and it’s mine

Reach out – be brave

Be strong this time

Walk down the long road

Move slowly if you must

At the end of it you’ll find

Love and light and trust

If things are bad

And you’re feeling really low

Then upwards my friend

Is the only way to go

So, no more darting about

With frustration and fear

No more twitching whiskers

No more pink little ears

Go into the light

Get out of the house

Go after your dreams

Stop being a mouse.

Evening

Snow lies thick on evenings gown

The colour suits her well

Dusk shines palest yellow

Upon her curve and swell

And as she moves across the land

Her many jewels fall down

The snowflakes are her necklace pearls

The stars above – her crown

The charming moon, now round and cold

Steps out from darkened cloud with flair

To add the merest touch of gold

To brighten up her hair

As tall, dark night draws closer

Evening strides away

She says she won’t be taken in

By his invitation to stay

But it’s far too late for her

Though she swears she’ll not let him win

With a long and gentle sigh

She softly yields to him.