...and stood a while in thought. I have no intentions of shunning the frumious bandersnatch in my journey through the slithy toves, nor slaying the Jabberwocky. But I will rest awhile by the Tumtum tree deep in thought en route, and the reason why he will remain unslain is that I will never get past the Tumtum tree: too much thought, then too much complaining, and too much sheer talking. It is the affliction of a woman embarking on her second half century who really enjoys discussing every little thing.
Is this yet another grumpy old woman blog? Oh I hope it will be better than that. With the conceit of a woman in her prime, I believe people are interested in what I have to say. And so I will say it.
I am 51 today, and have wrestled for much of the afternoon with the concept of the passage of time and exactly how old I am. Have I been in my 50th year? Am I now in my 52nd? Is this the beginning of the second half century, or have I missed that moment? As the American friend I entertained this morning would say, "I am not good at math". He also asked if we were troubled in my museum store by "moth". In both instances, the use of 'math' and 'moth' leaves you hanging on a verbal precipice for an 's'. Life is suspended while the sibilant hangs unsaid, and conversation lurches helplesly onward as if the stride has gone; a speed bump on a motorway, a missing stepping stone in a river.
I suspect I have lived for 51 years, on the principle that you celebrate your first birthday only after you have done the 52 weeks time. I can live with that concept, and so I enter (probably) my 52nd year. My 51st was brillig (see Jabberwocky and make your own mind up).
That is pretty much all for the first outing. After all, it is my birthday and why should I work too hard for you? I will end it calmly, and try to avoid having to accompany my daughter to a bar. And then I will to bed, perchance to dream, as I often do, of a range of curious subjects. My least favourite of which involves a wide street, closed doors, nudity (mine), and being chased by lion (s).
And you thought this would be dull?
But you don't go looking for the Jabberwork, it comes to you and surprises you as you stand in uffish thought.
ReplyDeleteAha but you knew it was there all along, which is why you entered the borogrove zone with your vorpal blade in the first place. Otherwise you would have taken a picnic instead and left your vorpal blade in the cupboard under the stairs.
ReplyDeleteBut if you leave your vorpal sword and go to the tumtum tree the Jabberwock will creep up and you when all you have to defend yourself is a plastic plate, a flask of stewed, lukewarm tea and a dodgy potted meat sandwich. Never stand in uffish thought by a tumtum tree without a vorpal sword.
ReplyDeleteThat is why I took it in the first place, but what you don't know is that I took a picnic too. por pie, boiled egg with salt tied in little twist of paper, that sort of thing...
ReplyDeleteBoiled egg? That's disgusting, you deserve to be attacked by the Jabberwock, he probably does it in defence of decent grub.
ReplyDeleteI only took it to placate the frumious bandersnatch.
ReplyDeleteAh, well, that's understandable. But what about the jubjub bird? Bloody devils them are.
ReplyDelete