Tuesday 1 October 2019

A is for ...

Letter A from Libellus Novus Elementorum Latinorum by Jeremias Falck after Johann Christian Bierpfaf, c. 1650, Rijksmuseum Collection
... is for

If you are of an inquisitive nature, Dear Reader, and have been having a rummage around my blog lately, you may have noticed a new addition to my sidebar. I have started a subsidiary blog dedicated to My Commonplace Book: entitled, obv, "Pipistrello's Commonplace Book".

There you may find, in due course, all manner of quotes and passages; ephemera, really, that take my fancy. The emphasis, as ever, is on the whimsical and absurd but occasionally a bit of high-mindedness may creep in. There are a dozen or so entries already and as it's of a white and restful nature, in contrast to the more colourful "Flying With Hands", I'm quite enjoying the space and will no doubt be busier there than here as posts there are merely handfuls of words on the page.

Are you settled comfortably while I regale you with a little Anecdote
from the Pipistrello Archive?

A is for also for Anecdote:

For a short while, Mr P. and I rented a house when we were newly courting and had gone to America together for an Adventure. It was north of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco in a funny little suburb of early-to-bedders and rather impressive trees of the Sequoia variety, and with a surprisingly large number of people who supported the local cottage industry of fandom (a.k.a. Deadheads) of a band I'd never heard of until arriving in the area, The Grateful Dead.

We had discovered through our landlords that our next-door neighbour in the shared cul-de-sac was a retired musician. I don't remember that he was actually a member of this rather admired band but that he had indeed made his Fortune as a supporting musician of them of some description. He was living out his retirement in relative comfort and it was expected that his youthful (and middle-aged) overindulgences of the Heady Days of his past necessitated this somewhat Quieter Life.

Monsieur Rockstar and his Wife and the Pipistrello's only met once. We were trundling off down our driveway one day, heading out for a walk in the fabled local Redwoods, when MR's chauffeur-driven limousine pulled up alongside us. A tinted window lowered and a warm greeting was uttered by the dark-spectacled MR and his Wife who were comfortably sitting in the back.

Some small introductions were made, and MR drawlingly enquired upon hearing Mr P.'s name,

"So, you're Italian, right?"

"Yes ..."

"And you're an Aussie?"

"Yes ..."

"... So that makes you ... A Dingo Dago!"

With a tinkling laugh, his Wife said proudly,

"He thought that up all by himself!"

And with a merry wave goodbye, the tinted window was raised and the limousine continued up their driveway.

And this one's for Unsolicited Advice

Finally, A is for Advice: If you are tempted to wash your hair with Clay, you can take it from me that it's not worth it ... Unless you want a shortcut to a Gibson Girl updo that doesn't require more than one hairpin (like our chatty Miss on the 'phone, above) then by all means, go for it.


  1. I would like to imagine that this exchange between you and the musician and his wife happened in Guerneville.

  2. An interesting anecdote. It's always nice to learn little snippets about the people we interact with on the Net. It makes them more real. So now you're in the 'more real' category. I'll hop off to your other blog to take a look.

  3. Bea, Guerneville doesn't ring any bells - we took a house in the rustic suburb of Larkspur!

    Loree, I'm pleased to assure you I'm real alright!

    I Grew up in MILL VALLEY!When it was time to sell our home there THE Grateful Dead looked at our house to BUY!THis is such a small small world!
    I see your answer to LOREE is LARKSPUR!I know it well and yes a sleepy little town!I had my 8th grade graduation celebration in an old Victorian house there cannot recall the name of the restaurant now but upon remodeling it for Food Service a body was found in the WALLS!!!!
    Clay on hair..........think I'll PASS!But CLAY on FACE does MIRACLES!
    Did you find BLACKIES GRAVE in TIBURON?
    WE have LOADS to discuss!I know you have told me but I forget what years were you here?

  5. A body in the walls, Contessa?? Well, sleepy places will always have dark secrets! I wonder if it was still there when we were? There was a Victorian house on a corner that was a charming looking restaurant - I say looking as we never managed to go. It was always shut by the time we fancied dinner!! People used to eat at 5pm in that neck of the woods so kitchens would shut by the time the sun set, haha. The only place we could ever get something to eat later in the evening was the local Chinese restaurant but it would only be for takeaway as the place would shut up after we would collect it! ... We were there in '97 but not for long. Less than 6 months, from memory. We then stayed with friends in Tiburon for a bit but Blackies Grave rings no bells. xx


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