Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Where is that last biscuit?

Are you missing a roll of string? Has the top to your favourite pen dissapeared. How about the mate to your brand new socks that you know you put in the laundry basket? Maybe those nail clippers that you left on the bathroom counter have vanished? Is your husband complaining about nails not where he left them or tools?

Well -look no further. I believe I may have discovered where these things have gone to. A few weeks ago the children discovered in one of their closets evidence of small people living there. Perhaps you too have borrowers living in the walls and closets of your house. They are sometimes refered to as "little people" in the original books written about these little visitors!

1 comment:

Lorcan who seems to have lost his cookie!!! said...

Up the foggy mountain, or down the shady glen
I daren't go a hunting, for fear of little men...

Just between thee and me, and the wee'ns, though, as thee might know, we Quakers don't hold with superstition, those who busk with me, have at time caught me, as I pack up me pipes and other instruments, slipping a silver coin into the leaves beneath trees, or down holes, or grates, for the Dhuinne Maith, the good people, those who fix thy shoes in the dead of the night, or put an extra quid in thy pocket, in an old seldom worn jacket ... and though we Quakers don't bless when another has sneezed (snoozen? ) I find myself whispering "God Bless ye", for if thee has sneezed (snoozed? ) three times without being blessed, thee might be caught by a clarachan, a wee person who uses thee to steal whiskey for him. Such is the weight of Irish past in my past ... or the lightness thereof...

Knock wood, sing of the great deeds of little folk, and place a wee glass of whiskey by the back door on moonlit nights, and though things might disappear, other things might turn up.

Thine in the light, agus go raith maith agut, le hai an Dhuinne Maith and protect thee and thine from an Fear Yerrig.

lor