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The Globe Artichoke was a plant too far.
I've killed her.
(Mrs Smith.)
Esther
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Thursday, June 12, 2008
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MING
MING'S SPACESHIP
(DISGUISED AS A 1950'S SUITCASE AND HIDDEN IN THE SHED)
MARTIAN
sounds like a cross between Welsh and Chinese.
Much of it comes from the back of the throat, ripples along the tongue and slams into the roof of the mouth.
The intonation goes up and down a lot (which is pleasant) - but there are also a lot of startling exclamations mixed in, making the speaker seem aggressive to those who (like me) are used to speaking English.
(Even when they aren't.)
(Aggressive.)
Much of it comes from the back of the throat, ripples along the tongue and slams into the roof of the mouth.
The intonation goes up and down a lot (which is pleasant) - but there are also a lot of startling exclamations mixed in, making the speaker seem aggressive to those who (like me) are used to speaking English.
(Even when they aren't.)
(Aggressive.)
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26 comments:
Frankly, I'm aghast and furthermore my mouth is agape and the door is ajar. The sheer ignominy of it. Arrogant balderdash.
I shan't go on... you seem to be quiet on this. Perhaps I shall be quiet too and see what happens. Sorrow for your loss.
Ron
Eeeeeks! and where doth the poor corpse lie? Hidden? In the dust bin?
Bury her under a plant - she might as well be useful and the garden will look neater without her lying around.
Make a change from planting on top of a dead donkey.
Mrs. Smith !
How? was she bonked on the head with a milk bottle?
Well, there is only one thing for it, you will have to go to the barrow park and find a barrow to cart her away.
Did Mrs. Rustbridger see?
Aha. I think I completely misunderstood what has happened. Do forgive me. I thought Mrs. Smith had destroyed the Globe Artichoke and that would never do. However, upon reading comments from others who read the same thing I read but took it to mean something quite different. I hereby turn in my Junior Detective badge and withdraw to the anteroom for remedial understanding.
What has happened to Mrs. Smith is of no consequence. Bonk away.
Ron
Oh, no, Ron - Your first comment was completely in the moment and added so much charm to the story. I loved it very much. Who knows (only Esther), you could be the one who read it correctly and the rest of us could be the ones who got it all wrong. Only time will tell. I think the lady toys with us!
So, now, do we have, instead of the Butler in the Library with a candlestick, - the gardener in the garden with a milk bottle? I am trying to keep up. It is so easy to get behind.
opps
Karen
I don't think her ilk make good fertilizer. I wouldn't want that corpse anywhere near my garden.
Mrs. Rustbridger sees everything. She has eyes in the back of her head.
Alfred Hitchcock would recommend burying her under a Rose bush. Do you have a suitable plant?
Esther,
as Ricky Ricado would say" I am pin an' niddles" to see what you say next. I think your blog is one of the most original and artistic blogs anywhere . Whatever you do, we await you quirky and brilliant expositions. what does that mean exactly? I am sure the Minglings will say it means we love you.
Dear Ms Montgomery
Are you aware that your milk bill should be paid?
I have called for it three times but you were out on each occasion.
Saturday's milk was still on the doorstep this morning, so I've put in in your shed, out of the sun, along with the latest delivery.
You also ordered traditional Dorset Cheddar on the rind and Somerset Brie. They are in a wheel barrow.
Your neighbour, Mrs Rustbridger, has taken in the butter.
If you no longer require milk, I would be obliged if you would put a cheque in the post.
Yours sincerely
Sam Puncknowle
Milkman
Hmmm,
You've not been heard from for 4 days now. Are you on the lam? Or perhaps a sheep? Sam is lurking about again, oh my. There may be cold comfort on your farm. But someone knows what happened in the woodshed. I wonder who. Mrs. Rustbucket?
Ron
Perhaps, they went to see Ma on Mars earlier than planned. They were going the last of June. But, if they went early I think she would have left a clue. This is not good. Something happened quickly, she didn't have time to leave us a clue!
Thinking back...there was this clue.
"I saw her watching me, over the rim of her cup, daring me to drink it. I watched her back, over the rim of mine - and did." was Esther intimating that Mrs. Smith was trying to poison her? Then she had enough of her with her plant wrecking and weak tea. Esther did have that fit. was she poisoned by Mrs Smith or was she just about to go off the deep end and begin a life of crime?
The milk in the woodshed cannot last forever. Mrs. Rustbucket, I mean bridger would certainly say there was "something nasty in the woodshed". There is the cold comfort that only cheese is in the barrow, and not mrs. smith. there is at least that.
I am getting a bit concerned.
I'm bored without Esther...
But what good does it do to kill Mrs. Smith? It was her bratty children who killed the lovely Artichoke. They would still be running about, amok, an abomination to Esther's garden.
I can't be quiet; I agree with Amanda; I am bored. No, I am grieved. Sigh... I am tired of reading Dickens; he used too many words, and the print is too small. People's Friend is quite nice, especially Lynne Hackles and Sue Moorcroft, but my subscription has run out. I think the Dundee office has forgotten me. Mrs. Rustbridger, we want Esther back. Are you holding...'er, caring for her? Did she swoon, have a fit, or was it weak poison hemlock tea in that cup?! Zoe, is that the white hanky I see limp and tangled in the Rambling Rector? Did she try to signal us? Or, has cow parsley invaded, or is it a wad of art paper, with scribbles? What is that ripe odor wafting from the shed... Forgotten laundry? Milk? Cheese? Or, Smith?
Ms Montgomery
Deliveries cease today.
After receipt of the correct remittance, I will resume deliveries if you should so wish. Simply phone or email.
Repairs are needed at my bottling plant. The bank is inflexible and I will have to be strict with my customers, even the ones who have been with me many years.
In future, I will be billing weekly instead of monthly. I hope this will not be an inconvenience.
Yours sincerely
Sam Puncknowle
Milkman
P.S. May I remind you that all my milk is of the highest standard. Have you thought of buying extra potatoes while they are still new? A small number of good quality tomato plants are for sale while stocks last (prices vary).
Esther oh Esther, where are you?
whimper.
I pine. Our voices whimper. I think she has left us. I did see someone ride away on the rickshaw. I couldn't see who it was. Strange, at the corner it rose into the air. Soon it was out of sight. Which direction is Mars?
Hello
My name is Lucy Corrander and I'm Esther Montgomery's next door neighbour.
I've put a note on her blog.
Just thought you might like to know.
Regards
Lucy
P.S. I've just thought - if anyone's short of a bit of internet reading over the next couple of weeks, they might like to take a look at THE BRICKS IN THE CAVE and fill the gap with that.
It's a hefty read on screen - but it's a good one.
It's primarily for children - but that's ok . . . and it's an adventure which is good . . . . and it's set in Dorset - which is a definite plus.
It has last summer's dates on it - because that's when it was put there - but, if you happen to like the idea of a 'Book on a Blog' - you might like to try that one!
Lucy
Hello dear readers. Esther has taken up diary writing once more. Here we go: Esther and the Time Machine.
http://estherandthetimemachine.blogspot.co.uk/
Do come along for the ride.
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