Notes for April Ninth
I am going to be late! I am going to be late, and it's really all the fault of the people down at the museum because they ambushed me while I was packing my notebooks and scribbling my last notes on my exhibit plan and dragged me off to a party and then would not let me leave. "Oh, but Pierre," the same colleague I mentioned yesterday told me, "Suppose you get yourself eaten by cannibals and we never see you again?"
"I am going to Ireland," I said, "There are no cannibals in Ireland. And even if there were I assure you I shall be quite safe."
The colleague, whose name I am never going to mention anywhere Nemo can hear it snorted and said, "Ireland? That's a new one. Have a translator? And besides, I shouldn't know. You hear things about the girls."
I have never lived down my inability to speak English. I try and try, and the knack continues to elude me. I can read it, but I cannot speak it, and this is a constant source of amusement for just about everyone. I don't mind, most of the time. Everyone teases everyone, but today I was tired and worried, because I just had to be going, so I was rather more stiff than I had intended to be.
"I do," I said, "And I have no worries about the girls, my friend. That's not why I'm going." You hear things... It's all such nonsense. Honestly! I don't hear things. Well. Not mostly. I mean, I hear things about where to find this species or that species but not... Well. I don't know what some of the fellows get up to when they're off and about, but it's not all zoological. Although, really, it's not as if I'm intending to spend all my time... Ahem. Glass houses, stones, all that, at any rate.
At which point I had to endure yet more ribbing, until one of the clerks rescued me with the news that some of the directors had turned up, with grandchildren in tow. Wonderful lad, just wonderful! I owe him much.
So I made my escape with my notebooks, and stopped off to -
Well. I shan't say what it was, but I needed to do it. And now I'm late!
Private:
Oh, this seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now I'm not sure at all, I don't know what I'm doing, I really don't. Oh, I do hope M. Secchi's star catalog makes a good present! The classification is fascinating, but I'm not entirely sure what he means a great deal of the time, and I am therefore unsure of its merits, although the astronomers at the museum assure me it's a fine theory and a meticulous classification...
Ah, well. One can hope. I meant well.
"I am going to Ireland," I said, "There are no cannibals in Ireland. And even if there were I assure you I shall be quite safe."
The colleague, whose name I am never going to mention anywhere Nemo can hear it snorted and said, "Ireland? That's a new one. Have a translator? And besides, I shouldn't know. You hear things about the girls."
I have never lived down my inability to speak English. I try and try, and the knack continues to elude me. I can read it, but I cannot speak it, and this is a constant source of amusement for just about everyone. I don't mind, most of the time. Everyone teases everyone, but today I was tired and worried, because I just had to be going, so I was rather more stiff than I had intended to be.
"I do," I said, "And I have no worries about the girls, my friend. That's not why I'm going." You hear things... It's all such nonsense. Honestly! I don't hear things. Well. Not mostly. I mean, I hear things about where to find this species or that species but not... Well. I don't know what some of the fellows get up to when they're off and about, but it's not all zoological. Although, really, it's not as if I'm intending to spend all my time... Ahem. Glass houses, stones, all that, at any rate.
At which point I had to endure yet more ribbing, until one of the clerks rescued me with the news that some of the directors had turned up, with grandchildren in tow. Wonderful lad, just wonderful! I owe him much.
So I made my escape with my notebooks, and stopped off to -
Well. I shan't say what it was, but I needed to do it. And now I'm late!
Private:
Oh, this seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now I'm not sure at all, I don't know what I'm doing, I really don't. Oh, I do hope M. Secchi's star catalog makes a good present! The classification is fascinating, but I'm not entirely sure what he means a great deal of the time, and I am therefore unsure of its merits, although the astronomers at the museum assure me it's a fine theory and a meticulous classification...
Ah, well. One can hope. I meant well.