Archive | 15:38

11.5.11

11 May

I’ve said all I can think of to say on the number eleven, so what about the number five?

File:Evolution5glyph.png

  • It is Spud’s favourite number (What?  You didn’t think this was going to be a serious exposition, did you?).  We – and he – didn’t know why it was his favourite number until a couple of months ago, when I dug out some of his baby teddies and there was a horse, stuffed and blinkered (See no evil?  A peg on the nose would have been better in a cot, don’t you think?  Smell no evil…).  With a massive number 5 on the toy horse blanket.  The brain is weird (but you knew that, regular visitor).
  • 5 is the third prime number.  I thought it would be the fifth prime number, if I thought about it at all, but the Hub said to just leave the maths to him in future and not worry my pretty little head about it.  How can a head be pretty?  Face, yes (blush – my earlier post on the meaning of my name refers); hair, maybe (Dani Minogue, step forward)…but head?  It’s just as well the Hub does my thinking for me, because that one hurts.
  • 5ive were a successful British boy band.  Now they’re all grown up and doing their own thing.  I saw them in a reality show before they were famous, living in the house next door to the family in the show.  I remember them because they were naughty boys, not a bit like
  • The Famous Five.  Ginger beer, anyone?  I’ve lashings!  Number 17, Five Get Into A Fix, was my favourite; mostly because I’d never heard of a three-tiered bunk bed before, and wanted to sleep in one.  Perhaps I should add that to my Things To Do Before I Die list.  See me at 103 – it’d take several hours to get up the ladder.  And what if I needed a wee in the night?  Pity the poor Hub sleeping below me…
  • There is a 1951 movie called FiveThe world is destroyed in a nuclear holocaust. Only five Americans survive…dum dum dum dahhhh!  According to IMDb, all of life is represented there: including a pregnant woman, a neo-Nazi, a black man and a bank clerk.  Yes, I know that’s only four, but there has to be some mystery.

That’s five disparate facts about five.  I think I’ll stop there.  Except to share this:

Under British law, when you reach
the age of five –

  • you become `of compulsory school
    age’,
  • you can see a U or PG category
    film at a cinema,
  • you have to pay child’s fare on
    trains,
  • you can drink alcohol in private,
    for example at home.

I’m off now: next door’s toddler and I plan to spend the afternoon getting drunk. 

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You know, maybe that last one isn’t as crazy as I think it is: my spellchecker just substituted ‘toddies’ for ‘teddies’…

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What’s In A Name?

11 May
Don't Know Much

Image via Wikipedia

What is the story behind your given name?

Short of taking out a superinjunction – the first requirement of which is a need to be super-rich – my feeble attempt when I started this blog to keep my name a secret was foiled by my listing on the right-hand side the places I had been published, with my full given name on view for anyone who cared enough to check.

So, here’s the worst-kept secret in the Tilly Budosphere: my given name is Linda

Oo, that WordPress prompter is sneaky, worming it out of me like that.

My name may once have been a diminutive of Belinda, just as I am a diminutive of a regular-sized person.

In Spanish it means pretty.

Before my head swells like a cobra’s, in German it means snake.  Also soft, tender, weak.  The Germans don’t miss a trick.

The Italians say I’m neat.  Thanks, Italy; I think you’re pretty neat, too.

But I haven’t answered the question: what is the story behind my given name?

My Mum’s friend had already taken Mum’s first choice of Amanda for her daughter, born a couple of months before me.  I never met that friend.

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In honour of my name, I give you my favourite-ever Linda Ronstadt song: Invincible

Names are tricky things.  You Tube insists it is my favourite-ever Pat Benatar song.

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On the subject of names, I have several readers with the name Elizabeth who might be interested in this: The Gathering of Elizabeths.  Sort of like Highlander for Nice Girls Who Don’t Behead Each Other.

This story has been tickling me for several years now.  The town of Elizabeth, Illinois, attempts each year to gather together the most women with that given name.  From the website:

Over 175 years ago, three brave women named Elizabeth stood up during a raid from legendary Black Hawk and his tribe in present day Elizabeth, Illinois at the Apple River Fort, making history and saving their village.

Are you an Elizabeth or have a family member/friend who is?  Become apart of history while creating life long memories by helping to set a new world record for the most Elizabeths gathered in one place at one time.

This from THonline:

The event was held in 2008 and 2009, with 436 (the current world record) and 250 participants, respectively. The event was recognized with a Governor’s Home Town Award in 2010.

Registration for the event and information is available at http://www.mostelizabeths.com. Participants who pre-register on the event website will be given a T-shirt and goody bag after checking in at the Elizabeth Community Center.

I know I said this wasn’t a poetry blog anymore, but I wrote this poem when I first read about the story and I like the opportunity to give it an airing:

The United Beths Of America

Elizabeth town in Illinois state:
four hundred women meet up for a date.
A new world record those Elizas set:
most gals in one place with the first name Bet.

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Joke 48

11 May

Courtesy of Sarsm.  Thank you.

An old man lived alone. He wanted to dig his potato garden, but it was very hard work. His only son, John, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament.

Dear John,

I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won’t be able to plant my potato garden this year. I’m just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you were here, all my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me.

                                        Love Dad

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

Dear Dad,

For heaven’s sake, don’t dig up that garden – that’s where I buried the bodies.

Love John

At 4A.M. the next morning, detectives from Scotland Yard and local police arrived and dug up the entire area.  They didn’t find any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left.

Next day, the old man received another letter from his son.

Dear Dad,

Go ahead and plant the potatoes now.  It’s the best I could do under the circumstances.

                                               Love John.

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