Sunday, 19 September 2010

Diary of a glass-half-empty person 14

I have been teaching Consuela (my Tejana maid), whose English is very fluent, the rudiments of the guid Scots tongue. She came to me with a question the other day:

"At what point in the scale of increasing severity does a stooshie become a stramash?"

I considered for a while and replied:

"At the point at which the storm outgrows the teacup, and the point at which a hill ceases to have any relevance for a mole and starts to have relevance for a mountaineer."

I don't think she was wholly convinced by that, and I foresee another philosophical discussion occurring soon. Well, I only have myself to blame - I did advertise for a "maid/philosopher".

"March of the Weavers" by Kollwitz. 1897
no reason.

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