Saturday, January 15, 2011

Give me a ladder, anytime

I personally always like finding snakes.
Geof Huth, commenting on the post below

I don't mind an elephant in the room. But a snake?

I don't mind a snake outside. Not so sure how I'd deal with an elephant, though.

Chacun à son goût, if I can quote Robbie Williams' chest.

I was born in New Zealand, remember. No land-based snakes. So 30 or so years in a snakefree zone.

I lived in Sydney, mainly in the inner suburbs, for the next 30 or so years. Nearest I came to seeing a snake was a shed skin attached to a branch on a trail in the Blue Mountains.

Only since I came here.....

Dead snakes, live snakes, big snakes, small snakes, venomous, non-venomous, brown, black, green. Tree snakes, see snakes, no sea snakes. No elephants, except when the circus comes to town.

Outside, I leave the snakes to their snake oil business. Pause till they pass, or I walk quickly away in the direction opposite to the one they're going in. Snake my way around them at a distance if they're lying there sunning themselves. Maybe I wouldn't go so far as to say I liked finding snakes, but I have learnt to coexist with them.

Until they trespass.....(Notice the sibilance of that last word. It's to be uttered hissingly. & wasn't he the Secretary of State—more sibilance—for Tricky Dicky? Talk about snakes!)

But a snake inside, in the next room, perhaps wishing to sit in my lap, like a cat, or curl up at my feet. Fuck that. The thought of a snake inside is sufficient to be an avatar of paranoia. The real thing? FREAKOUT!!!!!

So forgive me that I misquoted Shakespeare & kill'd the snake not scotch'd it. & let me close by offering up the words of W. C. Fields.
Always carry a flagon of whiskey in case of snakebite and furthermore always carry a small snake.


Blogger Geof Huth said...

This response, including the quote at the end, makes me happy that I'd left my earlier comment.

Be well and dry.


8:11 AM  

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