Morning Dismay
This morning I awoke to the cat farting gently in my face. “Phh-sigh” went her bum and was almost melancholy. Not an auspicious start to the day.
Before breakfast we had to check our leprechaun traps in the garden and were again disappointed. One trap had actually sprung but, alas, there was the golden irish euro still twinkling in the 7am sun, still tied to the string tied to the stick balancing the purple box. We thought we could discern some little scratch marks such as might have been made by a tiny, tiny person struggling to escape. Foolishly we forgot momentarily that leprechauns can make themselves invisible and when we lifted the box was when he must have escaped without our seeing. Morning 2 then, and still no recorded sighting.
Breakfast was a defeated affair.
March 7th, 2008 at 6:59 pm
but did it include bacon? breakfast i mean.
March 7th, 2008 at 7:43 pm
Ah, Sam, you need to rent the DVD of Darby O’Gill and the Little People to work through your post-Hibernian withdrawal symptoms.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0052722/
March 7th, 2008 at 8:53 pm
If you feel around gently in the trap, you might find an invisible little amputated leg.
March 7th, 2008 at 9:53 pm
Be very careful, if an invisible leprechaun catches hold of you he will pull you into the trap and you will become the same size as him. He will say you are his wife and try to put a coin in your hand. You must not take the coin. You must not even hold it for a second. Instead you must lean in close to him and whisper in his ear as follows, “Fir bolg. Fir strae. Fir imithe!” Then he will lose his hold on you and you will return to your normal size.
March 7th, 2008 at 10:18 pm
Are they humane traps? (And that’s and oxymoron if ever I heard one.)
I believe the little fellas can be nasty little buggers if they’re riled. Did you take any photos?
March 7th, 2008 at 10:58 pm
This morning I awoke to the cat farting gently in my face.
I’m reliably informed that such is the custom among certain tribes of Bushmen in the Kalahari. A friend of mine was patrolling the veldt back in 1907 and had occasioned to share a camp with same, where he learned the custom the hard way. “When in Rome . . .” he figured and made an attempt himself the next day. Alas, it didn’t turn out well, what with the cabbage rolls he’d hat the night before. Evidently the chief took umbrage at the aerosol. He was allowed to leave but had to leave half a bum cheek for use in their snares — for warthog, not leprechaun, though. The bushmen are from Ulster, evidently.
Cheers.
March 8th, 2008 at 1:52 am
Kara, don’t speak of bacon to me. As well as the sausages and the kebabs and the chips and onion rings and beer, beer, gin and beer, there was bacon this weekend. Bacon that I will have to run off first before all the other foods I ate, before it settles forever around my hips. No, there was no bacon.
Nanas, why that looks charming and nauseating in equal measure, a bit like child thespians. Good grief though, I might just have to rent that. The reason the girls are all agog for the leprechauns is because they have been learning about them in kindergarten ahead of St. Patrick’s day, the day when all Americans scour their ancestry for any old trodden down potato refugee they can claim makes them Irish. I arrived home to a larger flurry of emerald green and shamrocks than I’d brought back for them as presents. We’re all about the leprechauns this week. When I was wee they terrified me.
Bock, will it still decompose in the same manner though? I won’t have decomposing legs in my garden, invisible or not. It’s a jolly good thing we bought insurance against that sort of thing – the little people these day are notoriously sue-happy.
Wait up – phone ringing…
March 8th, 2008 at 2:37 am
Conan, are all leprechauns men? I’ve never seen a lady one, or maybe they just have beards too. I wouldn’t bother with the ancient tongue if a leprechaun caught me. I’d tell him “Times have changed shortie, if you don’t want the sharp end of a rainbow up your bum you’d better skedaddle!” And then I’d threaten to blog about him.
Pat, I don’t know about humane but they’re certainly purple. They don’t really blend into the natural garden habitat you know. But perhaps that’s it. Perhaps we need more camouflage. Hmm. I shall put it to the capture committee tomorrow at breakfast.
Rand, half a bum-cheek? Did he have to wear padded knickers after that to maintain his symmetry? But what was it the chief didn’t like about this obvious piece of homage to his culture? Was the homage too stinky?
March 8th, 2008 at 3:55 pm
No.
Chunky.
Cheers.
March 8th, 2008 at 7:32 pm
Congrats on the win at Murrayfield, don’t know whether you are a confirmed fan of shinty or have never had any sort of gra for ball games. But you are a Scot.
There was a distinct lack of vim on the second verse of the Flower of Scotland, the bit that shifts on to the current days when all is forgiven.
While, ag dul amach gan bia fionn spair. Thog i go bhog i.
March 8th, 2008 at 8:06 pm
Well done on beating the old enemy. We got beaten by the other Celtic soul-brothers, sadly.
Dang!
March 9th, 2008 at 8:56 am
Ah the old irish leprechuans. Luke hunts them at night, but in the morning he’s always where i left him trying to like nonchalent.
Keep trying, you’ll get one one day.
March 9th, 2008 at 11:04 am
Just read of your meeting with Hangar Queen. You lucky beggars but I may be having my second blog meet before too long with two who shall be nameless until it’s set. ‘xciting!
March 9th, 2008 at 11:35 am
Have you thought about using chocolate money?
March 9th, 2008 at 1:25 pm
You’ll never catch them with a euro. They all invested their crocks of gold wisely at the start of the Celtic Tiger boom and are living off the interest.
March 10th, 2008 at 3:18 am
Rand, bleurgh! That is deeply, deeply horrid.
Vincent, it was sweet for sure but we’re nowhere – we don’t stand a chance.
Bock, that’s a pity, you stood a better chance overall than we did.
Freelanceguru, I look upon the whole exercise as an important lesson in accepting life’s disappointments. Their kindergarten teacher is great. She does this thing every year when she comes in and takes a green cookie without asking and the children all tell her she’s broken a leprechaun law. Then the other teacher comes in and says that the punishment is that the wee folk will turn your foot green. The teacher mugs shock, takes her shoe off and reveals a green foot. The children are either delighted or bored and jaded (ho) according to how many hours they spend in front of Transformers on the telly.
Pat, oooh who? I’m greedy for more blogmeets now I’m afraid. Not much chance though for the foreseeable. Who? Who??!
Kim, well there goes my valuable lesson in disappointment plan. I might try that. I was weakening anyway at the sight of such glum faces every morning – they were putting me right off my breakfast, so they were, and that’s just not on.
Caro, crock futures, it’s where it’s at, baby.
March 10th, 2008 at 7:52 pm
When I was little, I had an aunt who put milk out in the garden for the fairies. She really did this; I remember trying to wait up once in hopes that I would get to see them lapping it up.
Getting back from a holiday is no fun, leprechauns or no. The last thing you need is a cat farting in your face! Mine does this too (why must cats always present their backsides to a person, anyway?), but then I haven’t gone on a trip lately, so I can just about take it.
Hope the gastric flu is all gone!
March 10th, 2008 at 8:52 pm
I think the issue is the amount of bait.These are leprechauns after all and I hear they’ll not put on their dishy-dashy shoes with the big buckleds for a trap baited with anything less than a 50 euro note.
March 10th, 2008 at 9:21 pm
Leprechauns long ago stopped taking cash and set up their own hedge fund, (it seemed a natural fit given their living arrangements). The made a fortune shorting oil and converted the pots of gold to offshore accounts in the Bahamas. Rumor has it they funded both sides in the recent round of internecine fighting among the faeries.
March 10th, 2008 at 10:35 pm
cats know you know…….they know everything…..
March 11th, 2008 at 1:06 am
And, carried just audibly on that first sighing breeze, the lilting echo of a leprechaun’s laugh…
March 11th, 2008 at 5:04 am
Mary, I have a distinct memory of putting a daisy ‘n’ dandelion stew out for our fairies in Lewis! I do! Me and pal Rachael from down the road it was and while I think it was less fairies and more pixies we wanted to feed, I definitely remember the daisy and dandelion stew. They need something hearty and nourishing up there, poor wee wind-blighted sods. I think we put cream-soda in that stew.
Devin, all we need to do is tell Kara about their dishy-dashy shoes and she’ll be down from Oregon like a shot to capture them. Which she will. She’s very determined about shoes.
John Mc, I’ve always suspected Richard Branson of being a leprechaun, outcast when he grew too tall. Rupert Murdoch is definitely one.
Manuel, I bet it was the cat that ate the leprechaun. If this was Shakespeare that’s what would have happened for sure. maybe there were a few molecules of leprechaun in the noxious gas she puffed at me this morning.
Ovrnighteditr, hello. Thanks for coming and around and commenting. So many don’t you know
In fact almost the entire world doesn’t. Think of yourself as a trend-bucker.
March 11th, 2008 at 5:05 am
Editr, I think you meant what I meant in my reply to Manuel, n’est-ce pas? The first breeze and all?
March 11th, 2008 at 3:43 pm
Good idea to turn your lost comment on HQ’s? into a post. Come on then.
I will tell you when it’s a definite arrangement – don’t want to jinx it. One’s a girl and one’s a man – with separate blogs.