Sunday, 24 February 2013

The Tale of the Inconsiderate Neighbour and His Downfall


Once upon a time, a widow, whose family had come from the kingdom of Ermani, settled with her daughters in the south of the Alli region. She thought that life would be nice there, but natives always reminded her that she wasn’t from “around here”, and they never showed her any respect.
The widow was sad, but she didn’t complain.
Her daughters were like her… except one. One of her daughters had left to work at the King’s court, and she’d come to hate the natives’ village mentality.
In the area around the widow’s house, there were several families from the alien kingdom of Denalow. Since Allians and Denalows had often been invading each other’s territories, that wasn’t such a surprise. What was a disappointing fact was that the Denalow people living in the village were more welcome than the widow (and just after a few months, even the widow admitted sometimes that the natives treated her poorly because she was a woman who’d lost her husband and she had no son).
The other daughters were as meek as their mother, but the daughter who spent most of her time away was not.
One afternoon, as she was visiting her mother, the non-compliant daughter heard an awful sound coming from outside; it sounded as if a thousand pans were banged together whilst ducks and geese were being slaughtered in the most inhuman ways. It was atrocious.
She went out to investigate, and she was the only one to do so because all the villagers but her and her mother, who didn’t want to make a fuss, appeared to be far away, working in the fields.
As she walked towards the sound, the daughter realized that the noise was coming from the house on the corner of their street. She’d never been curious about (or even just interested in) the neighbours, and so she had to check the name on the front door: Ronal Denas. Ronal was a name that most tribes had adopted, but the surname was probably from Denalow; she didn’t mind, because she had no grudge against aliens, and she’d learnt to speak their language. In consequence, she could go see that man and ask him to stop attempting to play the trumpet under the archway between his house and his barn, for that was what he was doing.
She turned the corner, the sound getting louder and more painful. In the courtyard, she could see an old man, and she waved at him to come to the street, which he did.
‘Could you please ask whoever’s making that racket to stop?’ she asked politely.
He waved towards the archway and grumbled, ‘That’s Ronal playin’. Go see ‘im. None o’ me business.’
She was disappointed in his reaction, but she wasn’t deterred. With one look at the native man, wondering if he was deaf, she walked towards the catastrophic amateur musician. In the courtyard, a Denalow horse, one completely unlike the horses that the natives had, was saddled in the Denalow fashion.
She walked to the owner of the house and had to manage to catch his attention: he was engrossed by his feeble stabs at music, and he was probably as hard of hearing as the native man who was working for him.
She saluted him and asked him as politely as possible to stop that awful noise. She explained that the archway carried the sound in such a way that it was unbearable.
The way he acted made her think that he had trouble understanding her; and therefore, she repeated everything in his own language. He still looked somewhat lost; thinking that he might be from a different Denalow tribe, she asked him where he was from exactly in order to adapt her vocabulary and make him understand that his awful racket was excruciatingly painful to hear.
Yet… in spite of his unmistakable Denalow accent and oh-so-particular horse, he told her that he was a native. Right then and there she realized what she was seeing in his eyes: contempt for an unmarried girl who wasn’t worthy of his time.
‘All right. Whatever,’ she said coldly. ‘Just don’t wake up the dead with your music. Thanks beforehand!’
And with those words, she left. On her way out, she checked the tribal symbols on the horse’s saddle, and they were definitely from Denalow.
The daughter had been cursed with very good ears (and the acoustics was on her side, carrying Ronal and his local friend’s voices), and she heard the following exchange.
‘Do you know the lass who just left?’ Ronal inquired.
‘Nope. What did she want?’ the native man said.
‘She ordered me to stop playing my beloved trumpet,’ Ronal exaggerated.
‘The nerve o’ that bitch! She’s probably from the other side of the village. Well, ya can play all ya wan’, as loud as ya wan’; t’is yar ‘ouse and no bitch is gonna tell ya what ta do!’ the other man spat.
‘You’re right!’ Ronal exclaimed, obviously delighted with his friend’s display of male solidarity.
The daughter hurried to her mother’s property and she hid behind the garden wall; she wanted to listen to the rest of their chat, without being seen. She realized that she’d been lucky because, she heard Ronal, on the road, calling her ‘Oi, Missy!’ and whistling to call her like a dog.
She was properly furious… and she knew the local laws. She stayed hidden until Ronal headed home, and she didn’t mention the incident to her scared siblings or to her mother.

The next time she visited, she brought a pigeon (one of the birds all citizens were allowed and encouraged to borrow from the castles in order to send vital messages).
The instant Ronal started his little fun with the trumpet, she tied a note to the bird and freed it to fly home… to the soldiers of the local lord, just on the other side of the hill. It took the bird five minutes to reach its owner; the soldiers galloped to the location mentioned on her anonymous message in just five minutes after being given the message.
The soldiers made it clear to Ronal that they had nothing against alien residents – as long as the local laws were respected. Ronal was severely chastised for playing so badly and in such an inappropriate location.
‘Who told you?’ Ronal spat. ‘Was it the young bitch? I’ll make her pay!’
‘Wait a minute! We don’t know who told us, and it’s irrelevant! We could hear your infernal racket the moment we passed the hill. I don’t know how you do things in your tribe, and seriously, mate, I don’t care. All I know is that we have laws – laws that the local constable explained, the way he does for all new residents since it’s his duty – and no one’s above the Law; that means you, too!’ the sergeant barked. ‘I’m going to give you a warning this time, but if we hear from you again, you’ll have to pay a fine, and we’ll take you to gaol. Clear?’
Ronal nodded, but he was furious, and he was sure that he knew who’d sent the incriminating message. He swore to get revenge.
The sergeant was no fool; he knew that Ronal was about to do something foolish. He left with his men, but he stopped down the road when he could no longer see Ronal’s house.
He looked at his men and said, ‘Half of you, keep riding home; the others, dismount, tie your horses to trees and follow me in silence.’
When they turned the corner of the street that led to the widow’s house, they saw Ronal, armed with a log; he was yelling at the widow and her daughter. Ronal broke a flower-pot that was next to the gate.
The sergeant and his men arrested Ronal.
With just one look at the daughter, the sergeant knew what she’d done to protect her family. He smiled and winked before leaving; she smiled back and nodded.

Wherever you live, wherever you’re from, being decent and nice to your neighbours is the only thing that guarantees that you’re not going to behave like a plonker raised in a barn. Keep in mind that you’re not alone in this world, and without stooping to spying on one another, living in a way that takes into account the people around you is the only thing that’ll make you deserve to be called civilized.

Thursday, 21 February 2013

Haiku Time!

So...
I'm trying to boost my Japanese. Hurray!
I've decided to compose one tweet in Japanese each day (I'm on Day2 - baby steps), and... the haiku plot bunny visited me.

Once more, if you're fluent and I made a mistake, heeeeeeeeeeeelp meeeeeeeeeeeeee. *cough* Ta!




鳥が飛ぶ静かな夜に思い出に

The birds fly
in the quiet night
on memories.

©Drusilla de Lanor [February, 21st, 2013]

Thursday, 14 February 2013

Music, Please!

First, I was in the mood for a dose of music, so you get to have links... and then, I'm going to try presenting things differently: up to now, I was only encoding the links, but I'll try another display...

Here we go...

Let's start with Morcheeba: Rome Wasn't Built in a Day,



then a bit of Queen with Somebody to Love,




a spot of Gackt in Arittake no ai de 「ありったけの愛で」,
 


the astounding Bourvil sings Le petit bal perdu,




and to conclude, let's have the lovely Gloria Estefan with Mi tierra



Saturday, 9 February 2013

First Haiku

So........................................
I've been learning Japanese for a few years now. 
I could chat with people in Japan, shop there, and I usually get the "main plot" on the telly (most of the "sub-plots" are still lost in translation for the moment).
I can type in Japanese (my handwriting will require a few more years to be somewhat decent, but I'll get there), and I can read a few things, but I'll need more training, too (and I'm still a huge fan of furigana).
As long as I'm breathing and I've got brain cells... It'll be okay, and I'll keep learning.

One of the monster stories on which I'm working is something I called Death in My District. It's a Fantasy story that takes place in Japan, and I quite like it.
At one point in the plot, I'm going to need a haiku... so I had to write one.
I think I've managed to write exactly what I want...
[If you're fluent in Japanese and I made a massive mistake, COMMENT and help me! ありがとう!]

Well, here it is:


女の子は光を探し寺に行く

©Drusilla de Lanor [February, 9th, 2013]

Wednesday, 6 February 2013

What's Wrong with... Oh, Fuck It!

Look! Wednesday madness!
I'm properly furious, and I've got my raised-in-a-barn colleague to thank for this.

Today, our common whiteboard was fully clean. Hurrah!
BUT... there wasn't a single pen left in the room!
Monday night there were five pens for us, the three teachers who share the room, the plonker was the last in the room, and now all the pens were gone! I can't believe it's not on purpose that all the pens disappeared.

I ran to the Administration building, asked for a pen and demonstrated that I'm working alongside a bully (mental age of a toddler: 'I took the pens! Mwahaha!').
My admin colleagues suggested that I ignore him, but I shan't - not the way they think...
I was given several pens for us all, which I left in the room (one in the common cupboard, three next to the board). If I'm pen-less next Wednesday again, I'll go to the big boss and the unions. I'm not going to allow a little boy to bully me and play with me.
In years of teaching, I forgot to erase the board once (I was quite unwell, and I stupidly felt bad for weeks afterwards) - because I was taught to clean after myself.
If that boy cannot do it (and throws a hissy fit when he's reminded that I'm not his bloody maid!), he's in for a surprise, because I'm not going to be nice and shut up.
The fecking nerve!*

Oh, and if he keeps being a cunt, I'll use his re-arranged name to baptise the stupidest, ugliest plonker in my PI stories.


*: I should probably be sorry about my foul mouth, but I noticed that almost no one listens to nice girls. So that twat had better have his life jacket ready, there's a Dru storm heading his way.

Wednesday, 30 January 2013

What's Wrong with People? (Still Being Rhetorical Here)

Is it that people don't pay attention? Or that they can't pay attention (as in 'I'm de-evolving, don't be too harsh with me)?
Honestly, I don't know - and I don't care. All I see is that the results bug me - quite a lot.

Just today...
I got to job#1, opened the door to my classroom and... my raised-in-a-barn colleague had moved tables (and not bothered to put them back because that's so bloody tiring and takes soooooo long [insert massive snort and a wish to frell one of his knees here]). That's one thing - incidentally, I left the tables where they are because I'm not a man with a van.
Then, I turned to our common white board, and... [drum-roll, please] both sides had things written on them. In full Carolyn Knapp-Shappey mode, I wiped clean the side with fewer stuff, and I wiped a square on the other side, in the middle, and in a nice red square, I asked him to wipe the thing. Ta, muchly!
If his plonkerish highness doesn't wipe our board next week, the next message shall be: 'I'M NOT YOUR MAID!!!'
He could be the Viceroy of India - I don't care. I wipe the board when I leave, I'm not paid to do it for him. Bloody Neanderthal.
Icing on the cake: the students. Monday's lot was fantabulous; when I told them it was the 200th anniversary of the publication of Pride and Prejudice, they asked me question about it, and we ended up working on Jane Austen, and a bit of Shakespeare and Dickens on the side. It was extremely productive.
Today's lot: chatting, drawing cutesy stuff on the important paper I'd just given them, not taking down notes and using their mobiles whilst I've clearly forbidden it. They're all over 18, but I think it'd be quieter to deal with a whole nursery school!
Next week, I predict some growling - to begin with.

And this week's cherry on the icing goes to job#3 and to the gal who doesn't understand that I told her that I've deleted a few files in one particular folder.
It went:
Her: where's the rest of the stuff?
Me: I deleted a few things.
Her: I thought something was missing, but if you say the folder's complete.
*blink*
Me: *head DESK*

May I move to Vulcan now? Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase!

Monday, 21 January 2013

What's Wrong with People? (Purely Rhetorical)

Things are a little weird these days, and I think it's not because I'm old-fashioned (or even an old bat), but there's something strange in the air.

First, just today, I had an appointment with a colleague. I rushed to make it early to work, and... my colleague was off for the day. I'm not going to start growling just yet, but I hope he'll apologize when we meet next.
Since I don't know why he ended up taking a day off whilst it wasn't planned, perhaps there was something big that happened to him and that made him forget our appointment entirely, but if he took off to go play the ponies, I'll definitely growl.
Yet, pardon me for being old-fashioned, but our other colleagues didn't imply any huge emergency (dead parent or sick child) and I want to believe that I'd have sent a message to warn a colleague and cancel an appointment (the one that went down the drain was rather important, and he'd insisted on planning it - can you read I'm disappointed?).

Then, there's my boiler that's scheduled for a cleaning session next week. When will the cleaning guy come? "Morning". Mind you, it's better than a few years ago when the company that does that in my building just gave us a day and it was basically "expect us between 8am and 6pm". Yet... When does their "morning" start now? 8am? 9am? It'd be nice to know - because it'd be nice, and because I'm not a morning person and I'd like to know when I'll have to drag myself out of bed in order to be ready to open the door to the plumber.
It'd be nice to get a clear window of time, but I guess it'd be too much planning for them (Imagine! Knowing exactly when you'll work in a specific building! *fake gasp*).

And then, there's my students. My own lil' adults to teach and help.
Most of them are absolutely charming, working hard and making me happy to be a teacher.
The others...
Well, when they arrive late for class, they think it's not an issue (a class doesn't start just for you when you finally show up, thirty minutes after the official beginning of it).
When they're glued to their mobiles, they don't see how impolite it is.
When they don't take notes when I give them some vocabulary, some grammar, some data about history/geography/culture/anything, they're wasting my time (I always end up having to repeat these things).
A few of the "weird bunnies" even are as bold as to draw intricate pictures right under my nose (because learning English is so useless in today's world in their minds).
The icing on the cake is when some of them chat in class (because whatever they have to say is so much more important than anything I'm trying to teach them). The cherry on the icing on that cake is that a few look annoyed when I dare to shush them a second time (how dare I interrupt them?).
The "weird bunnies" are a minority, but they're so incredibly irritating. In fact, they're so irritating that I've decided to change the way I work, and I'll punish them (even though they're young adults [*cough* on the paper, at least *cough*]) each time they don't follow my rules. I'd hoped that telling them to behave would kick-start their brains and make them act decently, but I was mistaken.
Apparently, it's past midnight and someone watered my Mogwais. Well, too bad for the class-gremlins, when annoyed, my inner Mrs Hyde gets out [It's hell to get her back into her box, but it's worth it].

Perhaps I'm very tired and I notice odd things and behaviours more... Or there's something barmy in the air.
Well, I seem to have found my inner Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, too, and I'm not putting that one back into any box - I like her.

Thursday, 17 January 2013

Permission to Be Scared? (A Bit)

After a look at the "audience" on my Stats page, I know that it could well be a translation problem, but you'll allow me to be just a tad scared, or worried, about the Search Keywords that were used and ended up sending people to this blog.
Here's why:


I must say that I find the first one particularly odd.

Somehow, I fear my sordid fairy tales were not the kind of entry they were looking for...
Welcome to Earth, barmy planet extraordinaire!

Wednesday, 9 January 2013

Of Plonkers and Cowards

What a beginning for 2013! (Happy New Year, by the way!)

I'm dealing with weird bunnies.
First, one minor thing, but one that's grating on my nerves because I was taught to not do that: one of my colleagues (always the same bloke) cannot be bothered to wipe the white board in the classroom that we share.
I asked the administrative staff if others had complained about him, and it turns out that he's morphing into a weird bloke. I told the gals in the office that I'm very tempted to write on the board "I'm not your maid" and they all approved.
Now... since I'm a silly bunny who's been taught (brainwashed?) to be discreet, I haven't done that yet, but tonight... Tonight I blew a fuse.
He'd left one side of the board (it's one of the ones on "legs" and that can rotate) full. I growled, turned it to the clean side and used that one. Before leaving, I erased my side and turned it back, and then... I read what he'd written, and there, waiting for my red pen, there was a magnificent grammar mistake - and one of my pet peeves in grammar: a decade (plural) with an apostrophe just before the "s" (as if it were a Saxon genitive).
I circled the mistake and admired my work.
I added an exclamation mark for good measure.
And I left.

Now, I'm not sure he'll notice - or he'll see his mistake - or he'll understand the message... and I felt a tad childish, but he bugs me, and so I've decided that if the board isn't clean next time, I shall write that I'm not his maid in order for him to realize that the charming man who cleans the room doesn't deal with the board (perhaps because he thinks we might need the notes for another lesson, or because it's not in his job description, or whatever. Bottom line, he's not erasing my colleague's writing; I am).

Plonker. Off my chest.

Cowards now.
My mother has a heart condition, and all her neighbours know it. What do they do about it? 
C'mon! Make a guess.
They stress her (which might well turn me into an orphan, thanks to their stupidity).
They stress her when I'm not around (one of the local twats has had his nuts half-chewed by me a few years ago, and Mother is convinced that he's afraid of me now - good for him; it shows that he's not completely stupid).
Today, one worker arrived to do some work for another neighbour, but he'd forgotten to warn her, and he took her for granted, and he may have complained to the owner of the neighbouring house about the "mean old lady".
Mother tried to phone the owner (the house is rented, and they live in another area), but the lady she reached assured her that she wasn't the owner.
Mother is going to investigate and try to find the phone number.
If it turns out that it was the correct number and the "lady" is the one I met and she lied to my mother. I'm going to turn into a nice lil' Vesuvius. Again.
Mother said she was getting used to the new house, but there are days when I wish she'd sell and move to a more civilized part of the country. She settled on a nest of nuts (and that's an insult to nuts).
If the happy cowards think they can bother my mother because she's not well and living on her own - they've got a Dru coming. I can growl on the phone and read them the riot act when I'm there - no problem at all.

I think I'm going to need a bit of training, but I think I'm done being nice.
Being nice doesn't work in today's world.