- Washine-machine safe tissues (Read again. Yes. Funny spelling mistakes)
- Realising that I’ve been pronouncing the word ‘sandwich’ wrong all my life (and feeling comforted by knowing that it’s a common mistake amongst Spanish and Italian speakers)
- Realising that ‘tanga’ means the same in Catalan and Hungarian
- Period-proof panties
- Some buses in Edinburgh finally have separate doors for getting on and off (Respect for the people who shout ‘THANK YOU” to the driver while exiting through the middle door).
- Tallest man on earth might not be the tallest, but his guitar skills are highly remarkable
- A webster is not someone with a high level of computer literacy but someone who weaves cloth
Someone should have warned me about this. I mean, I knew about the bagpipes. The rain. The Highland cows. But this? Is it a gift for Pomona, the Roman Goddess of fruit and nut trees? A Celtic ritual? A prank? First, it was a banana skin. Then, a handful of grapes. Maybe it’s just a genuine act of goodwill. But hey, whoever left the skin of a banana wasn’t feeling too generous, don’t you think?
The thing is that every time I return the shopping cart after my grocery shopping, I experience an extremely disturbing sensation, as if someone was watching me. Even when there is no one around, I still get the same odd feeling. Morning and evening. Weekdays and weekends. Like two sharp knives tickling softly the back of my neck. I nervously get my 1 pound coin back and I start walking: straight back, shoulders down and chin up. Usually things fall off my bags and once I almost hit a lamppost. No matter what happens, I don’t stop walking. I have to get away from the supermarket ASAP. When I start crossing the road, I get goosebumps. And then, that strange beeping in my right ear which lasts 27 minutes on average. As you might be thinking, I’m starting to dread my weekly shopping. And it used to be my favourite thing to do. I would even offer to shop for my friends! I’ve tried shopping in several supermarkets (even in different cities) but nothing seems to work.
Now I can’t help but wonder if I should be leaving some fruit on my cart too. Who knows, perhaps this way my nightmare would end. Maybe a kiwi? Some tangerines? Strawberries? How could I be sure that it would be appropriate? Sweet would be a safer choice than sour, right? I wouldn’t want to offend anyone. And here I am, at 2am, wondering what fruit I should leave at my cart tomorrow. And without having made a final decision, tomorrow I will go to the supermarket. And the knives will tickle me again and again…
Only certain people were allowed there. The requirements were secret and confidential, so if you wanted to join the club, you had to request an appointment and wait to be assessed. There was no way one could prepare for it, as you would do for an audition or exam, and that was part of the deal. Looking through the bars, I spotted an intriguing sign: “No items to be left in walkway or chained to railings”. Was it a minimalist club? Some sort of feng shui gang? Or maybe the assessment took place in the walkway and that’s why it had to be hazard-free and empty. But why would they need so much space in the first place? Maybe it was all about a fight, a dance or a Twister competition. One could just dream and wonder. It was equally exciting and terrifying. If you signed up for one of the assessment sessions, you would sign a contract agreeing to basically everything. Just between you and me, I’ve applied 99 times in the last month. They never got back to me a single time. I’m not entirely sure what might have gone wrong.
Sweet old Websters land. I guess a decent degree of computer literacy would help pass the test. What else could ‘webster’ mean? It’s surprisingly close to the word ‘hipster’ and ladies and gentlemen, I do not believe in coincidences. A webster must be someone who is cool with computers. Someone who writes code while making homemade vegan meatballs. Someone trendy. Websters land is the paradise of IPs, binary code and cookies. And I can’t wait to be part of it. I’ll just need to apply one more time and hope not to land on the SPAM folder. Maybe this time I’ll be able to find out what’s all this about. Or maybe I’ll never will. Maybe it’s all just a big computer-generated dream. Wait, is it 7am already?!
Disclaimer: webster is an archaic term for ‘weaver’ (someone whose job is to weave cloth). I do not take any responsibility for the confusion created within the human population, linguists and IT professionals.
I know it’s not Christmas yet, but I promise you there is an elf running around the streets of Edinburgh. But surprisingly, he is not helping Santa deliver any presents. He is doing something even better.
As you might already know, he works at night so that’s why you have never seen him and you never will. He hides behind a tree, explores the area with an avid glance and when he is 120% sure that there is no one in sight, the fun begins. He quickly tiptoes to the nearest traffic light and BOOM! In less than 8 seconds the job is done and he can go back to his warm and cosy flat.
Smooth and efficient: that’s why they chose him amongst the 299 other elves who had applied for the position. One traffic light per night, as the contract says. Princes Street, Howe Street… Who knows: maybe your street is next. If I were you I’d go to bed early and refrain yourself from going out at night. Otherwise, he will have no choice but to miss your lovely street. What a shame, I know. But I don’t make the rules: the contract makes it very clear: “If some human catches you in the act, the magic is lost and therefore, you are fired”. So yes, being an elf comes with endless moments of cheerfulness but also requires bags of discipline, responsibility and agility. I swear that the application process was harder than that slice of bread you left on the back of the shelf for more than two weeks.
So please, do him -and yourself- a favour, and the next time you press the button and -impatiently- wait for the traffic light to turn green, take a look around and you might be surprised. Remember: every time you smile, he is smiling back to you. Let’s keep the magic alive. Are you in?