Colour me an avid explorer of English. I therefore prefer travelling to Yorkshire to staying in London. Well, London is a wonderful place to visit its famous attractions, but not to pick up natural accents. Yorkshire, on the contrary, offers both fantastic historical places to visit to and the opportunity of meeting locals and talking with them, and enjoying their Yorkshire twang so nicely flowing to my ears. Especially, if you’ve got sheer chance of travelling there as often as you like.
So, last night I consulted my pillow to know how to behave while in Yorkshire. As a result, this morning I cast the economy to wind and bought two lovely paper notebooks and a small sketchbook. Was I too extravagant?
I will collect local sayings, proverbs and other phrases pertaining to local dialects of Rotherham, Sheffield and other neighbour towns and villages which I’ll be able to visit. I will interview as many people as I can.
I’m setting off on October 23d. So, please, wish me good luck. Your comments are very welcome as well.
Bubbly Butterfly was sitting on the green grass under a yellow leaf. It was her favourite shelter where she would hide every day from any dangers such as birds, spiders, silly kittens and pups. It had been drizzling all day. Yet, she was caught by the idea of exploring webs. The other day she saw Mr. Spider make a cobweb. She was stuck on Mr. Spider’s ideas of making cobwebs. But, that day, when she flew quite close to Mr. Spider’s knitting, he cast an evil eye over her face and roared out: “Can you see I am busy? Keep away, if you don’t want to get caught!” Out of fear, Bubbly Butterfly plummeted down into the grass lest to stick her neck out trouble.
Now, as the grass felt wet Bubbly Butterfly thought she risked going down with the flue, it therefore could fail her trip to Peak District. She jutted out her tiny trunk to get a gasp of fresh air and exclaimed: “It’s nippy out!” Suddenly someone invisible whispered in a cracking voice : “It’s not so bad!”. “Who is out there?” Bubbly Butterfly slammed her wings to pretend invisible too. The trembling voice went on: “ Don’t worry Bubbly, It’s me, Chris Cricket.” “ Phew, I’ve just felt a terrible fear that made my legs shake,” Bubbly Butterfly breathed a sigh of relief, which surely loosened her tongue and therefore she decided to let her secret out telling Chris Cricket that she decided to get married to Mr. Woodpecker. “What!?” Chris Cricket got astonished. “Er… he’ll swallow you on the first day of your arrival.” He tried to call for her rational. “You envy me, don’t you?” Giggled Bubbly Butterfly. “He promised to be very nice to me. He never goes back on his word.”
Suddenly she jumped up. “I’ve got an idea!” She fluttered out from under the leaf and begun to fly around Chris Cricket. “Crazy woman,” Chris Cricket muttered. Bubbly Butterfly seemed not to care. “What if I commission Mr. Spider to have a silver dress tailored by my wedding date?” “Oh, another thing wrong. You are done” said Chris Cricket to himself. “I can go to Mr. Spider now,” Bubbly Butterfly wouldn’t listen to her mate. She soared into the sky, her first itinerary to Mr. Spider.
Of course, Chris Cricket secretly was secretly desperate to brighten his life with more adventures. So, he set off his round-world trip. When he reached Mr. Spider’s house he saw Bubbly Butterfly struggling in the web. Her right wing had stuck in the silver spider cobweb. “What’s up?” Yelled Chris Cricket. Bubbly Butterfly burst into tears. “Mr. Spider have spoiled my new dress completely. He is obviously clumsy. When he finished it, he threw the dress over me and started wrapping me up instead of giving me time to try it on. And…. my tears … they’ve washed my makeup off!”
Poor thing, she never thought ill of anyone.
Meantime, Mr. Spider rolled up wearing a vampire suit.
“What a silly woman!” Chris Cricket thought and placed a call to Mrs Sweat “Hey, mate! Here is something for you to do,” he said into the tube.
Mrs. Sweat Bee arrived in no time and began her work. She accurately drank tears from Bubbly Butterfly’s face and chewed the silver threads then. It took a matter of minutes as Bubbly Butterfly was rescued.
Mr. Spider looked at both Chris Cricket and Mrs Sweat Bee in anger:
“You two! What are you doing here?”
“Hmmm, I’ve just come to see Bubbly Butterfly off.” Chris Cricket smiled to himself. He was happy with Mrs. Sweat Bee’s job.
Bubbly Butterfly took off to step into the unknown. She felt like getting to Peak District as soon as possible.
Mr. Woodpecker was sitting on the same old oak where they last met up. Bubbly Butterfly landed on an oak branch behind Mr. Woodpecker. “Hi,” she twittered. Mr. Woodpecker turned back but saw nobody. “You can hear me, can’t you?” She assumed. But he didn’t make a move. Beautiful butterflies were flittering round as he was watching them.
The matter was that Bubbly Butterfly had lost her remarkable appearance while striking at Mr. Spider’s cobweb. Her wings no longer looked vivid, nor was makeup on her face. Her dress went pale, hard to tell from the colour of the oak bark she was sitting on.
Suddenly, Mr. Woodpecker bent his head over a little yellow mothy and in no time seized it with his beak. What had to happen next was obvious to everyone but not to Butterfly left abandoned and biased to discovering if Mr. Woodpecker should k-i-s-s her rivals. This thought took her aback; she therefore set off home escaping from the sense of shame for her broken heart.
On the way home Bubbly Butterfly was pondering: “I went to great lengths, but to no avail! What went wrong?” The poor thing didn’t guess of what saved her life. The overcast sky was getting to clear up; it was the sun that pushed its light through the clouds. Bubbly Butterfly was always considered optimistic. She flapped her wings and thought that every cloud had a silver lining.
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Today I’ve come across an interesting phrase in a thread of a British friend’s post on FB. It reads “Fit and raring to go” describing her daughter after the girl had got over lingering flu.
This phrase arrested my attention. I did a quick search and found an Indian sport article with the title as follows “Fit and raring”. The meaning seemed perspicuous, but that’s all I could make out of it. I was curious about whether it was a British English phrase or it came from other English speaking countries.
So, I asked the friend to give me some details to go with. As the matter of fact, it appears that an exact British idiom is “be raring to do sth“, and the adjective “fit” is just an optional description.
My friend told me as follows “Raring to go means that you are straining at the leash, you can barely wait, you want to be off etc. The phrase is sometimes used when talking about horses as they are being held back before beginning a race.” She also added that it was apparently “a variant of the older English meaning of Rear (the rouse)”.
Here we can trace one more idiom with the same meaning that reads “be straining at the leash“. The CED suggests the following definition : “to be very eager to do something that you are being prevented from doing at the present time”.
Which remarkable is a synonymic idiom “be champing at the bit“ another lady had come up with in the thread, which gives such a graphic idea of the condition a horse experiences at the stage of an event.
So, now we’ve got three idiomatic expressions defining a pretty same meaning of edginess when you want to start doing something at the drop of a hat even if something or someone is attempting to prevent you from doing it
When you pass a blood examination test on sugar you apparently go as minimum surprised as maximum shook up at the fact of the exceeded sugar consistency in the blood if you have never had any complaints before. I’ve got the indicator of 6.2 which is high.However, what I’m going to share with you, hopefully will give you more optimism than any medicines you have been taking in in years to lower sugar indicators in your blood. I’ll try out the remedy on myself. I’m longing to share a fantastic way ( I have been told it is the gospel truth) of lowering sugar levels in blood. It pays to notice, the remedy is always near you, you don’t have to fork out your money on expensive chemicals either. You must only take a pair of scissors ( Noooooo! Not for attempting suicide, as a remark ) and …. cut leaves from a bramble bush by small pieces while they are still green. Then put them into the teapot and add boiling water to make it all infuse for a good 15 minutes.
As long as I’ve been advised that I should try it out, by an old friend of mine who is a doctor ( good to mention), and a mother of four children among those is one of my students, as per “instructions”, I’ve collected leaves ( by the way, quite a few leaves, to make storage in the freezer too).
Now I’m going to drink half a glass of warm brew once a day for a month to further take another blood test on sugar. My friend said that the intake shouldn’t be exceeded enormously since these leaves tend to lower indicators of sugar considerably. At the footnote, I will keep you updated on how the thing will have found me by the twentieth of October.
Wind, spin me, your arms around my body. Embarrass me slapping far away so that I could feel no weight on the wave of your glee erecting me at the top of your speed! I’d like to wreck a cold mask from your manifestation, Wind, I would take a pause to have your hot flows come out to lead me to the weightlessness where doesn’t exist any wind. I would fain try my hand at it. I’ve already fell in with your temper, Wind, cuddle me, my arms around your neck. Let me get only through the pass of this winter trek.
Composed on November 2. 2016
The painting The Mystery Of Wind by Irini Indjibeli, oil, canvas, 2011.