An English In Kentucky


















January 26th 2011    Tim Candler

    Not certain what this snow is called.  And tempting though it might be to give it a name, better perhaps to ignore it.  Take on the sunny disposition, bask in perfection and tidiness because I have climbed Mount Everest and I have seen the future.

     There are thirty point four eight centimeters in a foot, and in a cubic yard there are eight hundred and seven point nine quarts.  Amongst other rediscoveries made yesterday, I actually have five pairs of trousers, and there I was thinking I only had a good pair and two others.

     Most fascinating of all are socks.  I have an extraordinary number of them.   When gathered together the sight is quite humbling.  Some of them still in their packet.  And I wonder where they all came from. 

    Some time ago I must have given space to socks in a drawer.  Marvelous and efficient of me, and trusting.  But it must have been one of those springtime moments, because when socks were needed again I was unable to find any.

    And I am certain there would have been moaning and groaning for what turned out to be a completely unnecessary trip into town. 

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