An English In Kentucky


















Monday March 18th 2019Tim Candler9


    There was a time when I could wonder why an old man's nose dripped in the cold. It wasn't like a green amber snot you'd expect from the nose of an old man, more a crystal clear liquid with a water tension I guessed that was considerably higher than that of potable water. The drip was usually very obvious to a keen eyed observer but as a rule an old man seemed quite oblivious to it. The drip would linger a while, either fall or tenaciously get wheezed up and down for a bit before falling, sometimes it would end up on a sleeve, and there was whole series of other possibilities especially if there was some kind of incomprehensible old man joke exchanged. It was a vaguely unhygienic and unattractive characteristic I used to think, and especially so if the occasion was such the polite thing to do was shake hands. Not one of the great questions, but offered insight into the assertion that Inuit Peoples rubbed noses as a greeting, the assumption being that it was usually too cold to safely take off the fur lined mittens, and life style in the more northern regions was far too cruel to permit old men a useful existence so older men tended to do the right thing, sensibly wandered into the night long before they reached the nose dripping phase of their time on earth, the result being that the nose rubbing greeting persisted for happy generations until maybe the Flu arrived. 



      Not certain how happy I am to report that I have achieved the Nose Drip phase of life. Definitely a phase that creeps up on a geriatric, in my case it might have been happening for months, there was an odd incident in the Grocery Store recently and possibly I was struggling with a degree of denial, but no escaping from it this morning. I was weeding one of the garden beds, Carrots and Tomato possibly, cheerfully ignoring what was a bitter easterly breeze, nor was I taking any notice of a unison of whining from the various members of the community that is me, and there it was. I saw it quite distinctly, I was wearing the weeding glasses so there was no mistaking it. A drip landed on the fury leaf of a Purple Clover, it glistened in the bright cold sun, and just sort of sat there in that look at me way. The thing is I wasn't even aware of a sniffle in my nose, there was no urge to find a handkerchief or a coat sleeve, so I cast about looking for a culprit. A couple of Bluebirds playing chess on the electric line, for sport they might have flipped a dew drop in my direction, but I wasn't that close to the electric line. Soon enough the possible culprits became patently absurd, one of those jet streams in the distant sky, no way a worm would squirt a drop of liquid in my direction and when the drip happened a third time I found myself yet again having to do battle with acceptance. Pretty soon it'll be question of which foldable Rollating Rolling Walker for $55 would suit me best, a red one or a blue one. The Nitro Euro Style looks glamorous, good looking wheels, a little basket for an air horn, but a little pricy.


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