Why, oh why, oh why

As I currently appear to be in questioning (if not questionable) mode here is another one to make you, my dear Readers, blush:

What do you remember as one of the more embarrassing moments of your life? Obviously, all of us are spoiled for choice, and some episodes best taken to the grave, never to see the light of day. Others? Other embarrassments may make (some time in a far away future) a passable anecdote.

And yes, before you scroll back, I DID say that ALL of us (no use denying it) are spoiled for choice – and I say this as someone who is NOT easily embarrassed. As they say “Shit happens”, so, and being conceited as I am, I am reconciled to the human condition. However, when I do embarrass myself, boy oh boy, no half measures taken, no hole to swallow me in the near vicinity, I do wonder why this mortal coil of a life is peppered with snares to get trapped in.

It also makes for a rather interesting exercise in time travel, not least when you learn that some people were elephants in a previous life; they never forget, and have amazing ability to cut you down shorter than to size by casually mentioning something that happened ages ago.

In the short space it took me to type the above, my life of embarrassing episodes has flashed past me and I feel a little hot under the collar. It’s why the prospect of someone writing your biography once you are dead and therefore unable to put the record straight is pretty daunting. OH MY GOD. Actually tempts me, rarely – but it does, to put it all down on paper myself. Except, of course, who wants to relive that which is best forgotten?

Please don’t be shy. As so often, I will reveal myself in reply to you. If that sounds like a trade off – it isn’t. It’s my ingenious way of hiding my tree among bushes, in the hope no one notices.

U

Mucks maeuschen still

Caution

The bird was brought up to say to itself: “Man soll den Morgen nicht vor dem Abend loben.” Roughly translated: “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” True. Better translation: “The bird that sings in the morning may be caught by the cat before sun sets”. Emphasis on “may”. So don’t get dispirited before dusk.

Yes, the mouse. Which I keep spelling when typing as ‘mouth’. Such are the joys of the English language. You hear one thing it’s spelled another.

Ever heard of Gas Lighting? The film? Well, Sweethearts, I am not given to paranoia but if someone told me I was being had in this mouth/mouse saga I’d believe you.

It’s all gone quiet. Or maybe I am so exhausted I sleep through it. Or maybe the mouse has died. Like where? There is no exit from that room. Not even the tiniest gap a mouse could squeeze through and under. Bring on Monsieur Poirot, Miss Marple, even the Danish and their gutturals. This is true mind messing stuff (see gas lighting).

In the meantime I am making do (in the study) with a fruit fly.

U