21st August 2010
Ghost-writing sequel

Nobody seems to like to write in. It’s not that there’s a lack of interest, ’cause I keep getting stopped on the street and hearing all types of comments and suggestions; but nobody actually takes the time to write in.
“What the heck is he talking about?” You ask. Well, it’s like this. Occasionally, I may write about some trivial subject, at the end of which I indicate that, if you have any suggestions, comments, criticism or input of any kind, you should just drop me a line and in that way, contribute to the subject that was dealt with.
Not so. The minute I take a walk around town, I am practically (and most thankfully so) besieged by readers with the aforementioned suggestions, comments, criticism or input. Everybody has just a little something to say. So I guess that the best than I can do, is to keep to my promises that if I heard from you, I would take the opportunity to publish whatever you have to say, in relation to what you have read. Even if “hearing from you” is by word of mouth, instead of via pen and paper … or email.
So here we go. Following on an article which was published last week, under the heading “Ghost Writing”, in which I brought out some of those phrases which we use in everyday speech, and which really do not literally mean what they say, I got a lot of suggestions from friends. Here are just a few of the choice ones, which tickled my fancy, and which I will share with you.
Did you notice in the last sentence, the phrase “tickled my fancy?” Well, I’ve had my underarm tickled, the soles of my feet, the area just above my knee, but look as much as I may try I’ve never been able to find just where my fancy is located so that it could get tickled. But then again, I’m no expert on anatomy, so some of you out there may be able to point out the exact part of the body where the fancy could be found. I’d really like to get it tickled. I could do with a good laugh.
Here’s one that I got on Monday morning following the publication of the article. I was standing in the lobby of one of the Government buildings on the waterfront, when Anne, a literary-minded friend of mine, walked up close to me and whispered, “I’ve got a good one for you: gun-running”.
She’s right; of course, I’ve never seen guns running. I know that guns do have butts, but I’ve never heard of any that, like we do, have legs attached to them. And without legs, running must be a terribly difficult exploit.
Although we do have rivers and noses doing it. But that is another story. What an odd language English is.
Somebody else give me this one: dope-pushing. Why push it? Too heavy to lift and carry? And wouldn’t it draw a lot of attention if one went along the street pushing dope? If I wanted to take this one all the way to ridiculous, I’d say that he’d be the real dope, for openly pushing it down the street. He’d find himself getting arrested and thrown into jail. And how does he get out? Here’s another one for you: jail-breaking.