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Don't Eat With Your Mouth Full

Where can we live but days?

steepholm steepholm
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There's Treasure Everywhere!
I must get into the habit of writing down the snatches of conversation I hear while passing other people in the street. They always seem more intriguing than my own - or indeed than they would be themselves were they not tantalizingly curtailed. In the last 24 hours I've made a bit of an effort to do this. First, at university yesterday, walking to my seminar room:

"Of course, it's rare for my father to be best friends with someone who's not a policeman."

"I can't believe Stan Lee is still alive. That'll be such a sad day."

Then this morning, sitting in the cafe near the toilet, handy for passing traffic...

"Will it still be snowing? Will it still be snowing on the mountain?"
"If it's not still snowing, will we still be allowed to play?"
*thinks about it*
"When we go to Switzerland I want to take a carrot, some coal and some sticks."

"It's a whale, for sure."
"Yes, it's a whale."
"It's a killer whale."
"It's some sort of whale."
"It's a killer whale."
*I look up. The girl's toy is a killer whale, all right. But aren't they really dolphins?*
"What are you going to call it?"
"Killer whale."
"That's not its name, that's what it is. You could call it Sally, or Jimmy, or Freddy, or Julia...."
*they disappear into the toilet. I hope she sticks to her guns and calls it "Killer Whale"*

Naming stuffies for what they are is a fine and honorable tradition. I think the only toys we have around here that have name-names, those came with them, either by prior media or prior ownership.

One of my daughters was given a stuffed stingray Beanie baby once. We asked what she was going to call it.

"Ray, of course."

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.