Right Sweethearts: It Sunday afternoon 1444 hrs. I am going into a windswept tunnel. With a candle. Wish me luck. Most importantly: Please do distract me as best you can. Think of yourself as the sponge to someone drowning. To mop up surplus water. OH MY GOD: The moment I jump into action I frighten myself. This is going to be so awful. Anyway, mustn’t postpone the evil moment. The Angel, my loss adjuster, has high hopes of me and is, unfortunately, on watch this afternoon.
Quivering and yours,
U
Bitch on the Blog 
I always enjoy wind tunnels. Especially the hyper-sonic sort. You might want to bring a flashlight and strap it to yourself rather than a candle. That way it will be less likely to fly away when the air starts moving at higher velocities. Hoping all the instrumentation and data collection is set up properly. You will let us know what the experiment is all about?
Comment by Looney — October 21, 2012 @ 15:20 |
Yes, Looney, I can tell you are an engineer. More interested in landing than flying high and crashing. And, yes, I will let you know ‘what ‘the experiment is all about’ – once the rat has swallowed the poison and the hamster got off its treadmill.
U
Comment by Ursula — October 22, 2012 @ 15:55 |
Am mopping crazily with my portion of the sponge. Does one say – ‘break a leg’ – at such an event?
Comment by writingfeemail — October 21, 2012 @ 16:37 |
That’s all I need, Renee: Break a leg. Whilst not far from Stratford-upon-Avon I am not on stage. Though sometimes I believe that “all the world is a stage”. Which is why it’s important not to set a foot wrong. Otherwise you may fall off.
Thanks for helping to mop.
Wiping my brow,
U
Comment by Ursula — October 22, 2012 @ 15:44 |
Too bad i don’t know about what you are quivering. Then I’d feel the urgency to help with the mopping.
Comment by bikehikebabe — October 21, 2012 @ 17:21 |
I’m guessing I’ll need a big sponge, maybe a large bucket as well to help bail. Hopefully I won’t throw U out with the bail water. OK, big sponge, little bail bucket then it is. Keep your powder dry Ursula.
Comment by Phil — October 22, 2012 @ 07:56 |
Keep my powder dry, Phil? I am a contortionist: Whilst drowning I’ll still fire.
Not sure whether the Tower of London accepts bail. We can always ask. Just don’t forget to wring the sponge in between sponging. And emptying the pail before it overflows.
U
Comment by Ursula — October 22, 2012 @ 15:51 |
in wind tunnels
no one can hear you fart
Comment by fjohn — October 23, 2012 @ 18:34 |
Scant comfort, John. But thanks. One of the most hurtful remarks my father ever made about me (when I was still at an impressionable age) that I, his daughter, have it not in me to fart. That I’d rather implode than make a sound. By which he didn’t imply that I am tight arsed though a well trained sphincter does come in handy. It’s one law for the boys (and dogs), another for the girls. But then I can’t even whistle.
On your sound advice will now take advantage of the wind tunnel and practice – If only to bond with your dogs when the time comes.
U
Comment by Ursula — October 23, 2012 @ 20:25 |
I never could whistle. Now I can. Pull your lips inward & blow. It works.
Comment by bikehikebabe66 — October 24, 2012 @ 23:19 |
That is so funny, BHB: “Pull your lips inward & blow”. Yes, Cynthia, I did too when I was ten. That’s what girls do It’s embarrassing.
I remember the day my then very young son took an interest in whistling and asked me for technique. I knew there were pitfalls to motherhood. I explained the theory to him. I am good at theory. Particularly when you don’t expect sound. He got it in one.
Do you remember that delicious scene with Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart: “Or just whistle. You know how to whistle, don’t you Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.”
To honour you, and all other women out there who can’t whistle, after many many many years of having forgotten that I have a windpipe just now I tried once more to do a ‘proper’ manly one and what do you know: It’s not perfect but it’s there. So purse your lips – and try again. Next we’ll both take up fishing. Which, actually, I wouldn’t mind. All that peace and quiet. A thermos flask. Sandwiches. Hard boiled eggs. The odd mosquito buzzing by. A bed of sea roses on your right. Am now hooked on reverie …
Pass me the worm.
U
Comment by Ursula — October 25, 2012 @ 05:18 |