- A pile of unread books by different new authors (recommended by trusted others), all waiting to be devoured.
- Thinking of the pleasure that my little book-loving 1.5-year-old niece is going to get from all the books that I loved as a child (some of which I still re-read) which I'm going to introduce to her.
So much joy to be derived just from those two things...
I like this week's prompt simply because I managed to come up with two limericks fairly easily - the bonus being that I'm pretty satisfied with both of them! At any rate I'm not wishing for quicker wits and funnier ideas... this time around, anyway. No promises about next time, though!
So here they are:
A fellow who went through a phase
Of carrying hankies made of lace
Didn’t care a jot
What anybody thought –
His hi-fashion cred was firmly in place.
~~~~
A woman who went through a phase
Of attending each and every horse race
Found that her honey,
Her friends and her money
Quickly vanished without a trace.
Any parking slot that I was trying to wedge my Range Rover into would obligingly swivel itself on a turntable until it was at the right angle for me to just drive straight in without having to do any angling manouevres. Also, MY slot would expand sideways to accommodate my car comfortably, should any vehicle on either side be parked too close to the line.
You think that's off-the-wall far-fetched? Well, think about this - apparently one of the Ecclestone daughters has, in her $45 million house, a car turntable so that she does not need to reverse her Ferrari out of the driveway.
I was only expanding on an already existing reality. Not so far-fetched NOW, is it? Hah!
Oh to be a multi-multimillionaire, just to experience the extravagances in that ridiculously rarefied lifestyle...
How do you choose to buy something on Amazon when you're not familiar with the item? Me, I've found that I depend completely on reviews from people who've tried and tested it (whatever "it" happens to be - a novel/craft book/cookbook, clothes, games, a new author whose works I'm not familiar with, etc).
I usually read a few comments and reviews, both pro and anti. If there are two or more commenters who have left positive reviews that are thoughtful, coherent and well-written, with minimal spelling mistakes, I normally commit to buying the item. More often than not, my choices are vindicated.
Sure, there have been a few duds over the last few years, but on the whole I'd say that 97% of my purchases that were based on positive reviews by educated reviewers/commenters have been worth it. Is that snobbery or just good sense? If you were to ask me, I'd have to say honestly that the ratio is skewed about 70-30 in favour of snobbery. It might make me a snob, but my instinct is to trust a review from someone who's able to write effectively and briefly about the pros and cons of anything - whether the review is of a book or a saucepan.
PS. When it comes to negative reviews, if there are three or more comments that are pretty much unanimous on the quality of the product (never mind the language/spelling here), I don't buy the item. I'm pretty sure that my choices here are vindicated as well - although, obviously, I'll never really know for absolute certain.
Click here for this week's Limerick-Off Monday on Madeleine's blog
Coming up, a limerick from the "It Serves Her Right" school of limerickery...
A woman who just let it slip
That she was going on a trip
To the Aloha state
With another woman's mate
Soon found her friends had all jumped ship.
Click here for this week's Limerick-Off Monday on Madeleine's blog
My limerick for this week, after a bit of a gap in taking part.
When I saw the first-line prompt, the first phrase to pop into my head was "tell-tale tail" - and, of course, once it got in, there was no getting it out, so I ended up writing the limerick to accommodate the phrase. Some phrases are just such bullies - they forcibly occupy my brain and then throw their weight around, overcoming other, gentler ideas that are easily cowed into submission...
Anyway:
A woman was telling a tale
Of an experience that turned her pale.
One day she found proof
That a rat lived under her roof –
She knew by its tell-tale tail.
Click here for this week's Limerick-Off Monday.
Forgot to post this on my blog on Monday, but heyho, at least I managed to get it across to Madeleine's blog! Also, it's not exactly the same as what I posted there - I've tweaked it just a teensy bit because I think it sounds better. Is this much too contrived? What do you think?
A guy in the mood for a bite
Went out feeling quite uptight.
He took a gander
At a man called Evander
And took a chunk from his ear in a fight.
Sometimes I wish my life was more organized, more structured than it is.
Actually no, I think what I mean is that I wish I could organize and structure my life a little bit, given that my husband is the sort of person who sets off blithely into the sunrise without knowing how to get where he knows he needs to go (literally and metaphorically). I’m not exactly a worrier myself, but I’ll have to admit that compared to Pete I’m about as relaxed as a bagful of freshly-trapped snakes.
For instance, there was that occasion when he decided to whisk me off to Harrogate (in Yorkshire) where there’s a club called The Blues Bar, which has excellent music all days of the week but especially Saturday. I hadn’t been to Harrogate before, so I’d no idea that the city is wickedly posh and insanely expensive, and that the Blues Bar is located in the city centre right in the middle of a welter of posh hotels and clubs and bars – basically, the most popular hangout area especially on weekends for the wealthy young persons of Harrogate and surrounds. We would be getting there late Friday night, staying Saturday night as well, and leaving Sunday morning.
Me, as we were leaving: Where are we staying?
Pete: Probably at Premier Inn.
Me: Have you booked ahead?
Pete: No, I’ll ring them when we get nearer there. I’m sure we’ll get a room.
Famous last words, as they say. When we were about 30 miles away, Pete rang Premier Inn, but was told they were full up. Then I started ringing around the hotels in Harrogate – but cheap or expensive, they were ALL fully booked for Friday and Saturday although they were free on Sunday (for all the good that did us).
Me, somewhat alarmed: NOW what do we do?
Pete: I guess that rules out Plan B. On to Plan C.
Me: That rules out Plan B? What was Plan A??? And what is Plan C?
Pete: Plan A was tto have a Plan B. I've no idea what Plan C is. I didn't think we'd need it.
*sigh*
Frank Sinatra, that is. Long long back I heard one of his songs with the refrain "Let's forget about tomorrow, for tomorrow never comes"... followed by "Domani, forget domani" - and I always ended up wondering who Domani was, and if there was a "story" to the song that I wasn't getting.
Then I started studying Italian on my own, and by Lesson 3, all became clear.
Domani = tomorrow.
I hadn't realised that it was Mr Sinatra who set the trend so often seen in Bollywood movies, where the hero/heroine speak a sentence in English and immediately repeat it in Hindi (or vice versa), so that there's absolutely no doubt in anybody's mind of what was said in either language!
Anyway, long-time mystery solved, which is always a good thing.
Doolittle and Dalley - estate agents and surveyors
Wright Hassall - solicitors
What WERE they thinking of when they named their firms? Did it not occur to them to say the name aloud? Perhaps they were economising by choosing a name that also described their workstyle?
Well, whatever. I don't mind, really, as long as the names stay.
And you, gentle readers with the quirky sense of humour (y'awl know who you are, right?), if you know of any other gems to add to the list, please feel free to let me know in a comment. Just the thought that there could be more such descriptively named firms in this world makes me feel more positive and cheerful in general. Do you feel it too?
Click on the headline for this week's Limerick-Off Monday on Madeleine's blog.
Well, technically mine's now a Limerick-Off Wednesday, but this is the first chance I've had all week to try my hand at this week's competition. Unlike previous occasions, I had almost an embarrassment of riches to deal with in terms of rhyming words , which made it difficult to decide on what the "storyline" was going to be. I know, I have a genuis for making anything into whine (and there's another rhyme). :)
PS. I've heard from various sources that this feat was achieved a few thousand years ago by a young man whose name was Jesus Christ. But since I don't have proof of the nature of his feat - that is, whether it came in limerick form or not - I shall continue to hold my talent for limerick whine above anyone else's.
And so on to today's show:
A fellow was trying to dine
On fresh strawberries and aged wine.
The berries were sweet
A perfect fresh fruit treat -
But the alcohol, worryingly, arrived in a stein.
How would you answer the question “What would you want with you if you were shipwrecked on an island”? There's no way I could take just one thing (or person), so here’s a partial list. The list is not in any particular order – you have to believe me on this. So:
- A shipbuilder
- A navigator/engineer
- A seasoned sailor, preferably the ship's Captain, assuming he/she didnt go down nobly with the ship when it was wrecked
- My Kindle, with as many books downloaded onto it as possible
- Pete’s Kindle, with as many books downloaded onto it as possible
- Kindle charger
- Something with which to generate electricity to run the charger
- Internet connectivity (although I don’t know how I’d manage this)
- All my spices and cookery books
- My husband
- My mum, sister, brother, sister-in-law and baby niece
- A good pediatrician (for my niece, and any other babies that might be caught up in my list)
- Assorted cousins and friends
- Scrabble, Balderdash, Taboo, Ticket To Ride (all board/card/multiplayer games)
- Paints and things to paint (clothes, etc)
- My beading stuff
- My beading instructor
- Beading instructor’s family and friends, because otherwise she might not want to come with me at all
- 64Gig iPod and fancy noise-cancelling headphones from Sennheiser or Sony
- Johnny Depp
- Pierce Brosnan from his Remington Steele days
- The guy who plays Thor in the movie Thor.
- Amitabh Bachchan from the 1970s/early 1980s.
- Don Cheadle
Click on the headline for this week's Limerick-Off on Madeleine's blog.
I wonder if everybody does as much second-guessing of their work as I do of mine. I keep getting the nagging feeling that I should be able to do better, and yet these limericks (and previous ones) have come about only after an awful lot of forehead-wrinkling. The best limericks of the week usually make me laugh out loud, and I very much fear that mine can at best only raise a weak smile. Even from me.
Oh well... I console myself with the thought that I might not be the best, but I DO at least have the ability to recognise the best. (Granny Smith is one of the latter - whatever she writes - stories, anecdotes, sad poems, happy poems, limericks, her laundry list - they're all SO good! Even her blog's web address is a very clever pun that I love.)
Here are mine for this week:
A fellow who tended to brag
About the clients he got to sh*g
Was called in by his boss
Who put her point across
By calling him a right old sl*g.
A woman who tended to brag
That she’d never look like a hag
Was sadly forced to repent
When south her boobs went
And her butt developed a sag.
Click the headline for this week's Limerick-off on Madeleine's blog
The prompt was "A fellow who always seemed game". It wasn't a problem coming up with rhyming words... but to wrestle those words into something resembling a logical "story" - that wasn't quite as simple as it seemed at first. Still, because I wasn't satisfied with the first one, I thought I'd try my hand at another and choose the better of the two to publish. Sadly that plan, although I'd thought it cunning, didn't work like it was supposed to. I couldn't choose one limerick over the other, because I felt both were equally meh. So here they both are. Get one, take the other free.
A fellow who always seemed game
Ended up taking all the blame -
From cheating to assault
Ev’rything was his fault…
And yet no one felt it was a shame.
A fellow who always seemed game
Other people to hurt and maim
Soon found it was painful
More than it was gainful
When the Mafia came into the frame.
Click on the headline for the Sunday Scribblings website
A shortlist of things that give me pleasure – and if all some any of them come across as petty and/or childish, please be advised that there is a very good reason for this... that is to say, I AM petty and childish (no “or” about it).
Click on the headline for this week's Limerick-Off Monday at Madeleine's blog.
The prompt was "A man/gal who was lacking in wit". I can't say I had much trouble coming up with these limericks, but by the same token I can't say I was particularly thrilled with either. My feeling is that they're adequate, but - oh dear - perhaps somewhat lacking in true wit.
I sincerely hope that my sub-conscious self didn't have me in mind when my conscious self came up with the second limerick! It would be just too much irony to cope with, if this turned out to be autobiographical...
A man who was lacking in wit
Bought a D-I-Y humour kit.
Being a hopeful sort of bloke
He thought he could amuse folk
With his one-size-fits-all joke - the poor twit.
A gal who was lacking in wit
Had just no idea when to quit.
She told her very lame joke
Without fail to the very same folk,
And wondered why they threw a fit.
"Dekha machal ke jidhar bijli gira di udhar
Kiska jala aashiyaan bijli ko yeh kya khabar"
What beautiful lyrics, and what a fantastic song by Asha Bhonsale.
*For non-Hindi speakers, this translates (more or less) to "(His) every glance is like a bolt of lightning that has no clue about the devastation it causes." (Forgive the clumsy prosaic translation - I'm no good at poetry.)
Updated to add: The lyrics I quote above are from the song "Aaiye meherban". The movie is Howrah Bridge.
Click on the headline for this week's Limerick-off on Madeleine's blog.
The prompt was "A love-smitten guy was irate". I knew pretty much what my limerick was going to be about, because my rhymes for "irate" were in place... but I spent ages trying to re-word "His attempt at wooing Was the reason for his undoing" so that it scanned right - until it finally occurred to me to reverse the order of the two sentences. That was certainly a BINGO moment while still being DUH (for taking so long to reach such a simple solution).
A love smitten guy was irate
At being dumped on a "date".
The reason for his undoing,
Was his attempt at wooing -
His mate, unfortunately, was straight.
I haven't seen/read/heard this knock-knock joke before, so I'm going to take the credit for it until someone says different. Although, coming to think of it, it's really rather obvious, so perhaps someone else has invented it. However, here it is:
Knock knock
Who's there?
Zoe
Zoe who?
Zoe Wanamaker
Wanamaker do what?
And that's how it goes :) By the way, Zoe Wanamaker is the star of the British sitcom "My Family". For the non-Brits, she's in the Harry Potter movies as Madame Hooch.
Click on the headline for this week's Limerick-Off at Madeleine's blog.
I really enjoyed doing this one! And I definitely had a few guys in mind when composing the limerick :)
The prompt was: "A fellow I tried to ignore".
A fellow I tried to ignore
Because he was a colossal bore
Refused to go away
(Too stupid, I daresay)
In men, traits I very much deplore.
Updated to add: I thought of a better version! Here's the new improved (or so I imagine):
A fellow I tried to ignore
Because he was a colossal bore
Didn't take the hint
(Too stupid to, I think)...
In men, traits I very much deplore.
"Hint" and "Think" don't quite rhyme, I know... but which version do you think sounds better? (My choice is pretty clear.)
I'm going to try writing Here's one for "A woman I tried to ignore":
A woman I tried to ignore
Kept on carping about my décor.
Did she have any right
To get quite so uptight
When I finally showed her the door?
Click on the headline to go to the Sunday Scribblings website
Have you ever changed the name of a song inadvertently (either by mishearing or through simple ignorance), and even if it later you found out the actual title, you felt that your version was far more descriptive?
Well, I think I should have had the opportunity to let the Beatles know that “Norwegian Wood” should really have been “Norwegian Girl”. I mean, it was more about a girl than it was about wood – Norwegian or otherwise! He wasn’t having an affair with any wood, was he?
I may not have got the chance to say this to John Lennon, but I did say it a few years ago – in rather huffy self-defence, admittedly – to my friend Jason, a fanatical Beatles admirer, when he wouldn’t stop teasing me about my perfectly innocent mistake. Not that it got me out of the woods…
Another such occasion was a few years back further still, when I was in school. For some reason I'd got it into my head that the Def Leppard song "Pour some sugar on me" was actually "Throw some sugar on me". It didnt make much sense to me either way at the time... throw, pour - big difference!
Again, not that my mumbled explanation cut any ice with my friend S, whose amusement at the time I found to be both unwarranted and excessive. I guess he was easily amused, or there was nothing better going on in his life at that point... did I mention that he got an awful lot of entertainment from one simple mistake?
Or maybe he was high on something, come to think of it...
Click on the headline for this week's Limerick-Off on Madeleine Kane's blog
Last week's limerick-off pretty much impossible to do, mainly because I found it really difficult but also because I didn't have enough time to think... but this one for the prompt "A gal who was lovely and fair" practically wrote itself.
A gal who was lovely and fair
Always wore dresses that were “barely there”;
Said she, when asked why:
“It's true, I'm shy,
- but I like to make the men stare.”
Click on the headline to go to the Sunday Scribblings site
Of all the unwanted bequests that come our way, the ones that are the least welcome are those which are passed down in our genes as dangerous inheritances for unwilling recipients - sometimes from birth, like haemophilia, cystic fibrosis, Huntington's disease and so on; sometimes later in life, like diabetes, heart problems, cancer, etc.
Genetic inheritance - the gift that keeps on giving down the generations...
Click on the headline to go directly to this week's Limerick-Off on Mad Kane's blog.
My rather feeble effort using the prompt "A fellow was playing with fire". Dunno why but I had some trouble trying to get words to rhyme with "fire" - and still more trouble trying to come up with a limerick that made sense. Anyway...
A fellow was playing with fire
When he called his wife a liar.
She sulked, shouted, saw red,
Banned him from the marital bed,
Making him realise the extent of her ire.
I guess everybody in the UK must know of the surgeon who shouted at CamerClegg and their TV crew for not following hospital procedures as regards good hygiene practice. That surgeon is now on “indefinite leave” – suspicious, suspicious. I also read somewhere that the surgeon had "created a controversy" a few years ago when he complained about foreign nurses who could not understand him. Nobody mentioned the word “racist”, as far as I’m aware, but the suggestion was very much there in the way the word “controversy” was bandied about.
I don’t understand what was so controversial about what he said. If you ask me, he was making a perfectly valid point. He did not question their professionalism or basic competence – his complaint was about the very wide gap in communication. What’s the point having foreign nurses, however qualified or sympathetic they are, if they are unable to communicate competently in English, unable to understand what the doctors/surgeons/patients want of them, and unable to ask or answer questions? At the very least, they should be able to speak/understand the local language. Do the racism-mongers honestly not see any potential for disaster during an operation, say, if the surgeon’s instructions are misunderstood by the nurses, or patients are unable to get across to them the specifics of any discomfort/pain they feel?
Any foreign staff – doctors and nurses both – should have to be competent in spoken and written English if they are to work in this country. Knowing other languages would definitely be a bonus, but I personally think English is an absolute must. I just can’t imagine any logical objections to this. Can you?
Limericks aren’t easy to write
Apparently one needs to be bright;
Finding words that rhyme
Is a challenging pastime -
But sometimes, it’s an absolute delight.
A gal who hated to sit
When bored, would chafe at the bit.
To her dismay, her job
Was to assist a foolish nob –
It aint no joke working with a half-wit.
Click on the headline for a direct link to Umm's post.
Thanks to Umm for giving me the chance to do a post that isn't a limerick!
Click on the headline for this week's Limerick-Off Monday at Mad Kane's blog
My limericks for the prompt: "A man/gal who could never say 'no'"
A man who could never say “no”
Wanted to stage a one-man show.
Asked by the director: “Can you sing?”
He coolly lied, “Why, sure thing!”
Sang a note One note, tho' - and he got the ol’ heave-ho.
A gal who could never say “no”
Was upset at being called a “ho".
Said she: “It’s not nice
To be asked my price
By all my potential beaux.”
Click on the headline for this week's Limerick-Off Monday at Mad Kane's.
My limerick for the prompt "A man who was proud of his clout". I have to say this one came pretty easy :) I'm going to see if I can come up with more. Possibly with a gal who was proud of her clout, too.
A man who was proud of his clout
Did challenge Mohd Ali to a quick bout;
Alas for him, Cassius Clay
(As he was known in his day)
With one punch knocked him clean out.
And another (the gal didn't quite make it!):
A man who was proud of his clout
Thought he needed to standout;
He giggled and preened,
And boasted and queened -
But ev’ryone thought he’d at last come out.
And yet again - the gal made it! (I'm on a roll!):
A gal who was proud of her clout
When ignored, was inclined to pout.
At every party she’d complain,
Drinking far too much champagne -
Until, irritated, they threw her out.
Somebody stop me!:
A man who was proud of his clout
Was honestly a bit of a lout.
He would bully and tease
Imagining he was the bee’s knees -
But socially he was a washout.
Click on the headline to access Mad Kane's Limerick-off Monday
My slightly risque effort of the week, using the starting line "A fellow who loved fine cuisine":
A fellow who loved fine cuisine
Always cleaned his teeth with fluorine,
And every girl that he fed
Spent the night in his bed.
His secret? “Good oral hygiene”.
These are some of my favourite ways to say "Get lost" that are also funny:
Make like the wind and blow.
Make like a tree and leaf.
Make like a hockey stick and get the puck out of here.
Make like an egg and beat it.
Make like a banana and split.
Make like a drum and beat it.
Make like a green light and go.
My personal favourite, though (and thanks due to my husband):
Make like Jesus and get the flock outta here.
PS. If you're religious and don't wish to blaspheme while being rude, the variant is:
Make like a shepherd and... etc.
Humour ALWAYS works for me! :)
THIS blog - Whoopee - and giving myself an asphyxiated hernia by trying not to laugh out loud for fear of alerting people to the fact that I'm enjoying it.
And by "it" I mean the blog, not my asphyxiating hernia. You would be right in thinking that strangulating a hernia in eye-watering silence is not pleasant, unless you're doing something so fun that the unpleasantness doesn't matter. Which is what I am currently doing.
Over and out.
Oh, and note that I can spell "asphyxiating" any number of times - correctly. Every. Single. Time.
Impressed much? Thought so.
(Click on the headline to access Mad Kane's Limerick-Off Monday.)
My attempts using the starting line: "A fellow/woman went out on a date"
A fellow went out on a date
With a pretty young lady called Kate
He thought she was sweet
Polite, funny, and p’tite -
All in all, just right as his latest Playmate.
And:
The pretty, slim, small, vivacious girl inside me is not going to see light of day in this lifetime.
Better luck next time around, I guess.
PS. I dont think I belive in reincarnation. But I'm not entirely sure.
(Click on the headline to access Mad Kane's Limerick-Off Monday.)
My attempts, using the line "A gal who seemed guileless and sweet" as the start:
A gal who seemed guileless and sweet
Opted for a kooky sort of treat
Instead of coffee -
Or chocolate, or toffee
She preferred to eat – ugh – boiled sugar beet.
Or a slight variation thereof:
A gal who seemed guileless and sweet
Would find the weirdest things to eat
When it was time for dessert
She’d eschew cookies and sherbert.
Oddly, boiled sugar beet was her favourite treat.
I can't say I'm particularly pleased with either of these. I might add one or two more if I can manage to shift my brain away from boiled sugar beets.
Update: The first version, improved 100% with Madeleine's tweaks (and comments) reads thus:
"Shammy your first version is much better meter-wise, but could use some meter tinkering. Here’s one possibility:
A gal who seemed guileless and sweet
Did opt for a kooky type treat.
Not ice cream or coffee
Or chocolate, or toffee –
Her preference - ugh – boiled sugar beet."
Thanks for your help, Madeleine!
I love limericks - my first introduction to them was through Edward Lear's nonsense rhymes, but soon I tracked down lots of others, some innocuous, others tongue-in-cheek naughty and still others quite X-rated. I liked them all... that is to say, I liked all the genuinely good ones that made me smile or laugh and/or admire the word-play - Ogden Nash being favourite for this!
I came across Mad Kane's Humor Blog quite by chance, and since it's pretty brilliant and she writes some damn good limericks besides, I added the site to my links. On a whim I also tried my hand at writing a limerick for one of her prompts where she gives the first line as a starting point - and here it is:
A fellow was fit to be tied
When he found that his lovely bride
Declared she was off
Because he was not a toff –
What? You think this tale isn’t bona fide?
And ere ye judge me harshly, gentle reader, please to bear in mind that it's my first (public) effort at limerickery. The way to encourage is to not laugh - that is, to not laugh unkindly. Do feel free to laugh at the humour.
Addendum: Just had a thought - what if you think it best to NOT encourage any more limerickery-buffoonery on my part? Oh the horror...
I’ve been a Stephen King fan for as long as I remember, although that said, I can’t actually remember which of his books I read first, or at what age, or even how I latched on to him first. All I know is that apart from a few blips here and there (“Rose Madder”, “Gerald’s Game”), I’ve read and enjoyed every one of his books, fiction and non-fiction. Some books, of course, are way ahead of the others, but on the whole I think he’s an amazing writer. I might have said this before, but I’ve frequently found his imagery and descriptions almost poetic in their lyricism... and how I’ve wished that I had just a wee fraction of his ability to paint word-pictures! (I haven’t really stopped wishing it, actually.) Considering he’s a “horror” writer, it speaks volumes for his genius that poetry is what comes to my mind even in the midst of gore – and let’s make no bones about it, there is usually plenty of gore.
But futile wishing and hours of breathless reading aside, I’ve also gained unexpected knowledge from his books. For instance, I learnt that sparrows - those tiny, drab, nondescript, cheerfully chirpy little birds once so common in Madras - are considered to be messengers of death, sent to escort newly deceased souls to the afterlife. The novel from which I gleaned this information was “The Dark Half”, which is replete with hundreds of sparrows swooping and swirling innocuously – and yet menacingly - throughout the novel, finally taking away the evil alter ego, George Stark, to his well-deserved ending.
I love Stephen King. Long may he write.
What I have discovered over the years is that “nearly” doesn’t really cut it at any point, at any time, at any age - not as an excuse, not as an achievement, and not even as reassurance.
- Me, somewhat proudly: “I nearly passed my maths exam, you know”. Yeah, 38/100 may be have been a personal high (with 40 being the minimum pass mark), but “nearly” still didn’t get me a rank.
- English teacher: “Have you finished your assignment?” Me, cautiously: “Nearly.” She, incandescent: “What do you mean, nearly? Either you have, or you haven’t. Which is it?” Me: “Um… nearly have.” And that’s how I got detention on a Friday afternoon.
- “Did you win the quiz competition?” “Nearly.” “Nearly?” “Yes, we would have except for the teams in first and second place.” Riiiiight...
- Pete, reassuringly to me: “I’m nearly done”... and 3 hours later, he’s not moved so much as an inch from his workdesk, it’s past midnight, and we’re still at his office where we were only “going to stop briefly to pick up a document”.
