FRoGLiTs

YYYYayyyyy, whoooo, whipeeeee! I have a blog! Now I have one more thing to feel guilty about. Omigod I haven't made a blogentry for absolute ages. Well – I've been bizzy – and it was Easter - my family all needed emergency dental treatment after eating my “patented” yeast-free hot-cross buns. Well, anyhoo – here's more about my maudlin and thickly thweet childhood. Somebody once asked if adults have as much fun in adultery as children do in childhood, which is beside the point really – let's get to the frogthingy......
“Actually the most incredible thing was when there was frog-rain. It had rained on the farm and for some reason thousands of tiny, tiny baby frogs came out and hopped about in the puddles on the road. As a child it was just one of the most magical things I had ever seen, they were all so very small and so perfect and so hilariously hoppy and jumpy. All this was in the sudden clear brilliance and stillness that always followed a sudden shower of rain, every leaf and stone was suddenly washed clean of dust and the habitual dust had been rinsed from the air. The smell that dried earth gives off that is frequently starved of rain is quite different to the smell, or lack of it that is given of here in rain-soaked, water-logged England. It is like an enormous sigh of relief – the smell of the first wet splashes on the dry earth and the mingling of dust with the drops of water in the air – it is such a smell of goodness, of minerals, the fundaments of life. When I was a child and we had built an extension to our farmhouse (originally built in the 1800's) I used to lick the bare walls to try to release that same smell from the sand grains in the grey cement, I loved I so much. The smell was similar, if I ignored the hints of ammonia from the cement, I suppose it was the hot climate as well – taking warm wafts of essence-of-minerals from sand and rocks and earth when they were moistened. I used to eat stones as well – soft lose crumbling shards of a purple stone that I found beside the road. It was soft enough to chew up – and I ate it – creating rain-moisture-aromas in my mouth. I guess that's what comes from living in a drought-stricken place, and perhaps from being slightly weird as a child.”
Slightly!!!! Gawrsh hawr hawr hoorukidding weirdo!!???? grovel, glkunk and dinggggg! She myowls mizeribly into the knight. (yoo should really try howling into a suit of armour sometimes - it makes a gloriously hollow sound which more than compensates for the smell of medieval armpit) By the way we (ie me and my 2 sisters) managed to capture some of the magical miracle miniature frogs and took them home to watch them swim in the hand-basin. We also used to cultivate tidpoles in a plastic container on our windowsill, but they never grew into froglits for some reason... probably cos we used to swallow them all.... that was my older sister's idea and I was too young to kno better. Oh dear this is all getting a bit too Persinill. better gnoe. bye! (ps all this sounds much better when heard in the internal voice of various characters from the simsuns. yatooch me hearties avast there be pirates on the mizenmast. (that was captin pugwash) ogod pleez stop. orlright. bleep bleep blep bleep. ovary&out. )