As everyone would know my closest friend Tetrapilotomos, a writer who - although a fascinating storyteller - would not dare to write, is one of those stern members of the human family who would hardly get being caught laughing, even if one would follow him into the deepest cellar.
Mostly he'd be busy with scientific research, such as pre-assyrian philately, architecture of the Tuareg, Aztecan horsemanship etc. and, as an ardent advocate for interdisciplinary cooperation, of course, he has got friends and colleagues in almost every village on this globe who are working on the same respectively completely different subjects.
But I am running the risk of digressing a bit.
Where was I? Ah, yes ... he would hardly get being caught laughing, even if one would follow him into the deepest cellar.
Smiling here and then, yes. But that's all. The more surprised I was while tonight preparing spaghetti in a spicy mozzarella-tomato sauce and a delicious salad (champignons, red and yellow paprika, bush tomatoes and feta), hearing him chuckle again and again in front of the PC.
At dinner, raising my glass of vintage Ulysses, a marvellous Aetna vine, asked I: Any joyeous news according Kemal Kerinçsiz?
Spake Tetrapilotomos: No.
Said I: Last time I heard you laughing while we were having some pints of black gold with Calvagh and he was telling the story about O'Loughlins last order, which as you might remember happened to be a very long story.
Spake Tetrapilotomos: Ah, Calvagh O'Seanacháin, Professor for antediluvian fishing methods and philosophy and Erin's finest seanachie. Indeed, indeed. Must visit him again some day. Could you check, if there's a flight to Shannon tomorrow morning?
Said I: Sure, as soon as you've told what made you chuckling for almost half an hour.
Spake Tetrapilotomos: Well, I stumbled upon a Turkish seanachie.
Said I: That's extremely funny, indeed. Next you will tell, that Irish is a Turkish dialect and the first seanachie was a Turkish poteen producer near Knocknamuck, which - by the way - means the hill of the pigs.
Spake Tetrapilotomos: Stop nitpicking, Sean. Let's enjoy this delicious meal - by the way, will we have ice-cream à la Welshcakes Limoncello for dessert? - and then let me introduce you to my Turkish seanachie and his devine interventions.
I absolutely loved the Turkish Seanachie.
ReplyDeleteBut I much prefer Welshcake's ice-cream rather than Bull's balls.
Not that I'm religious.
:)
And your comment gave me (!) a great laughter in the morning.
ReplyDeleteJust back from the airport. Tetrapilotomos took the earliest flight ...
What i love about your work is that you're so accessible, Sean.
ReplyDeleteThank you, James. And once I've found access to the arts of subtle irony, I shall hopefully be even more accessible. :)
ReplyDeleteGood Lord, he could truly have been a seanchai! I would love to see him and my father together in a room!
ReplyDeleteAcessible! I never know what to say when I'm here in case I put my foot in my mouth.
ReplyDeleteJams,
ReplyDeleteif I'd think I were a seanchai your words would have been balm for my heart. :)
jmb,
ReplyDeleteyou are just wonderful!
Ask, blame me, but - please - do not put your foot in the mouth.
As Schiller told his sister: Write like you are speaking, thus you write beautifully.
Of course, right you are! You and James.
But as Robert Frost (?) once said:
Don't take my style away.
It's my face.
May be not good - but
anyway, by face.
:)
Hm, seems this is difficult a task.
The more I do appreaciate your visits and your comments.
The Peace of the Night
Je ne comprends pas un mot.
ReplyDeleteNo, Simplissima (were she still alive) would never have been able to befriend Tetrapilotomos, and his bewildering activities.
I even have a problem with you, Sean. Do you ever speak simply, very simply, about simple things like the weather...?
Bonjour Claude. Il fait chaud aujourd'hui. Good morning Sean. Yes! It's finally summer.
Je vous aime beaucoup, Sean.
ReplyDeleteAmo, Sean.
That's why I try to understand...
Bonjour, soleil.
ReplyDeleteOui, c'est chaud, Claude.
Simply hot.
I am sorry to read Lady Simplissima passed away. Hardly can believe. Rather a metempsychosis, I suppose?
Apropos, 'pass' and 'away': Tetrapilotomos yesterday night took his pass, and away he was.
Simplissima was no lady. She existed only to notice French imperfections. You accused her of supernike....whatever....She died on the spot. I was very relieved. I do not like my soul to be inhabited by supercilious creatures.
ReplyDeleteAujourd'hui il pleut. J'aime la pluie.
Madame Claude,
ReplyDeletesinging in the rain? :)
songez aux mendiants qui battent la semelle sous la pluie.
Allors, après la pluie, le beau temps.
Getting hotter and hotter.
Très chaud, Claude.
ReplyDelete:)
ReplyDeleteBon soir, Claude.
C'est chaud etil pleut à verse.
Bonsoir Sean,
ReplyDeleteIl fait très beau ici.Pas de pluie.
BTW, allors est alors. Everything else is perfect. Where did you learn French?
Après la pluie, le beau temps.
Très chère,
ReplyDeleteI did, of course, immediately follow the late Lady Simplissima's (Peace be upon her) advice:
A good dictionary, and you have to use it. :)
Alors, and thanks for the correction.
And what serendipity made you a) stumble upon this tiny spot in the big blogosphere and b) brighten my life since? :)
Comment suis-je arrivée ici?
ReplyDeleteFrom comments to comments to comments...If I like the comment then I seek the blog. Vague memory though recent.I clicked on Sir Veillance. Brilliant! Then Hiatus Interruptus with Mesdames et Messieurs. Now I go here and there, never knocking at the door, often amazed that you're aware I've been in. I don't comment everywhere, of course. I would become a nuisance.
I don't really know where you live. You're 54, and with Mrs.S.J. 14 years. You speak many languages. Sometimes, I think you're the cleverest man I ever met. Other times, I don't understand one word you're saying. It's my fault. My knowledge is very limited.
I don't think I brighten your life...well, maybe 3 minutes a day. I'm just one little unknown dot in the big wide world, free to come and free to go.
Que la paix de la nuit vous enveloppe de sa douceur et de sa beauté.
Bonjour, Claude.
ReplyDeleteSlept well? Dreamt sweet? :)
In between a (very short) note for visitors who'd stumble upon this very 'comment'-section: Welcome. Irritated? Surprised? Curious? It's somehow like sitting in a cafè and listening to the couple sitting at the neighbour table, isn't it? Even better: You don't have to perk up your ears to satisfy your curiosity. - Oh well, in case you don't understand this and that and as long as we don't decide to change the locality, i.e. from 'Café du Blog' to Cafè du Email' , just let us know: To please you, we might write a bit louder :)
Back to you, Claude.
And to start at the end: Your last sentence made me smile. And you will know why.
[Note for indiscrete eyes: In order to understand you need nothing but exploring this site. :)]
Ah, actually, your ductus makes me almost permanently smile. Like it.
Need I say your comments would not at all be considered a nuisance?
Apropos 'smiling': 3 x 11 = 14 ? :)
Enough for now. Have to change the locality. Seems at Cafè Morrell's the bazaar has been opened. :)
See you there?