Moss in the Woods
An author once said that when you become a published writer, you have to be careful how you behave around others. Oh-oh!
You see, some weeks ago, I decided to bike to the village. It’s about a 35-K ride, so when I got there, I was tired and thirsty. So I parked my bike at a friend’s and then walked to the Yacht Club. I expected to walk in, order a beer and then proceed to the balcony. I planned to sit on the balcony, drink my beer, gaze at the water view and watch the tourists gawking about.
However, the Yacht Club was full. A mob of tourists and locals filled the large room. All the chairs were taken and the bar counter was packed, as they were being entertained by a musical group.
I, Larry, the published author, demurely pushed my way to the bar, ordered a beer from the attractive server and then walked to the patio, where I sat on a chair. The tables had all been taken by tourists.
You see, some weeks ago, I decided to bike to the village. It’s about a 35-K ride, so when I got there, I was tired and thirsty. So I parked my bike at a friend’s and then walked to the Yacht Club. I expected to walk in, order a beer and then proceed to the balcony. I planned to sit on the balcony, drink my beer, gaze at the water view and watch the tourists gawking about.
However, the Yacht Club was full. A mob of tourists and locals filled the large room. All the chairs were taken and the bar counter was packed, as they were being entertained by a musical group.
I, Larry, the published author, demurely pushed my way to the bar, ordered a beer from the attractive server and then walked to the patio, where I sat on a chair. The tables had all been taken by tourists.
And then, lo and behold, I proceeded to be bombarded by musical entertainment. Not just from the group in the club. No, no. Behind me, on the wharf, were two older fellas sitting on a bench. One was playing the accordion and the other was playing the fiddle. Suddenly, a large van pulled up and released about twelve young folks. They all carried fiddles and joined in with the two older players.
By the way, what’s the difference between a fiddle and a violin? The answer: a twenty-four pack of beer. Ha, ha, ha.
Here’s one more. A gentleman is someone who can play the accordion, but doesn’t.
I now had music in stereo. Music coming at me from inside the club and from behind me, but only for a few minutes. Because, look out! In-coming at eleven o’clock! The village’s lone bag-piper, who wanders around the village during the tourist season, was a-coming. He was marching to his own bag-pipe tune and now, count them, there were three entertainment centres. I was being saturated with Cape Breton music. Simultaneously.
By the way, what’s the difference between a lawn mower and a bagpipe? You can tune a lawn mower. Yuk, yuk.
And then, to add to the fun, I pop a migraine aura. I’m seeing lightning bolts and have lost partial vision in both eyes. To be followed by a headache. This happens once in a while. Confusion and heavy exercise don’t help, so it was time to make another visit to Doctor Alexander Keith.
By the way, what’s the difference between a fiddle and a violin? The answer: a twenty-four pack of beer. Ha, ha, ha.
Here’s one more. A gentleman is someone who can play the accordion, but doesn’t.
I now had music in stereo. Music coming at me from inside the club and from behind me, but only for a few minutes. Because, look out! In-coming at eleven o’clock! The village’s lone bag-piper, who wanders around the village during the tourist season, was a-coming. He was marching to his own bag-pipe tune and now, count them, there were three entertainment centres. I was being saturated with Cape Breton music. Simultaneously.
By the way, what’s the difference between a lawn mower and a bagpipe? You can tune a lawn mower. Yuk, yuk.
And then, to add to the fun, I pop a migraine aura. I’m seeing lightning bolts and have lost partial vision in both eyes. To be followed by a headache. This happens once in a while. Confusion and heavy exercise don’t help, so it was time to make another visit to Doctor Alexander Keith.
Swollen Brook
A friendly woman from New Brunswick, whom I partially saw, started a wee chat with me and, as I sometimes do, I began to wave my arms around as we conversed and then, not cool, Larry! Not cool at all! I knocked my beer glass off the bar. Mr. Keith spilled all over me, all over the floor, a little bit onto the woman and an ounce or so onto a man sitting on the stool the other side of me. And all the while the band played and the poor audience was suddenly torn between two entertainment choices.
Forest Battle Field
And then, lo and behold, I proceeded to be bombarded by musical entertainment. Not just the group in the club. No, no. Behind me, on the wharf, were two older fellas sitting on a bench. One played the accordion and the other played the fiddle. Where-upon a large van pulled up and released about twelve young folks. They all carried fiddles and joined in with the two older players.
By the way, what’s the difference between a fiddle and a violin? The answer: a twenty-four pack of beer. Ha, ha, ha. Here’s one more. A gentleman is someone who can play the accordion but doesn’t.
I now had music in stereo. Music coming at me from inside the club and from behind me, but only for a few minutes.
Because, look out! In-coming at eleven o’clock! The village’s lone bagpiper, who wanders around the village during the tourist season, was a coming. He was marching to his own bagpipe tune and now, count them, there were three entertainment centres. I’m being saturated with Cape Breton music. Simultaneously.
By the way, what’s the difference between a lawn mower and a bagpipe? You can tune a lawn mower. Yuk, yuk.
And then, to add to the fun, I popped a migraine aura. I’m seeing lightning bolts and have lost partial vision in both eyes. To be followed by a headache. This happens once in a while. Confusion and heavy exercise don’t help, so it was time to make another visit to Doctor Alexander Keith.
By the way, what’s the difference between a fiddle and a violin? The answer: a twenty-four pack of beer. Ha, ha, ha. Here’s one more. A gentleman is someone who can play the accordion but doesn’t.
I now had music in stereo. Music coming at me from inside the club and from behind me, but only for a few minutes.
Because, look out! In-coming at eleven o’clock! The village’s lone bagpiper, who wanders around the village during the tourist season, was a coming. He was marching to his own bagpipe tune and now, count them, there were three entertainment centres. I’m being saturated with Cape Breton music. Simultaneously.
By the way, what’s the difference between a lawn mower and a bagpipe? You can tune a lawn mower. Yuk, yuk.
And then, to add to the fun, I popped a migraine aura. I’m seeing lightning bolts and have lost partial vision in both eyes. To be followed by a headache. This happens once in a while. Confusion and heavy exercise don’t help, so it was time to make another visit to Doctor Alexander Keith.
Swollen Brook
I pushed my way through the noise and crowd and ordered another glass of beer. A friendly woman from New Brunswick, whom I partially saw, started a wee chat with me and, as I sometimes do, I began to wave my arms around as we conversed and then... not cool, Larry. Not cool at all. I knocked my beer glass off the bar. Mr. Keith spilled all over me, all over the floor, a little bit onto the woman and an ounce or so on a man who sat on the stool the other side of me. And all the while the band played and the poor audience was suddenly torn between two entertainment choices.
Embarrassed, I rushed into the broom closet with the beer server. I took the mop and pail from her and told her I’d wipe it up. Sophisticated writer to the rescue. Back out into the mob of tourists, locals and the poor musical group who were now in competition with this sophisticated published author.
I mopped away until a burly tall employee took the mop from me and said, “I’ll take over.”
And as a writer, I couldn’t help but notice that his mop-stroking techniques were different from mine.
Remember, an author, once he gets a book published, must be very, very careful how he comports himself in the local community.
Embarrassed, I rushed into the broom closet with the beer server. I took the mop and pail from her and told her I’d wipe it up. Sophisticated writer to the rescue. Back out into the mob of tourists, locals and the poor musical group who were now in competition with this sophisticated published author.
I mopped away until a burly tall employee took the mop from me and said, “I’ll take over.”
And as a writer, I couldn’t help but notice that his mop-stroking techniques were different from mine.
Remember, an author, once he gets a book published, must be very, very careful how he comports himself in the local community.
Ancient Tree Trunk
