Notes toward a definition of the word 'more'

Among other interests I am a keen amateur philologist, studying the etymology and usage of the 'words' with which the big people are so keen on communicating. Personally I think crying is more effective and more efficient in getting one's way, but they can't seem to help babbling on so I do make an attempt to understand what they are saying.

One of the words I've noticed lately is 'more'. It usually indicates that a spoonful of mashed banana or perhaps mushy apple is coming my way. Over the last few days though, I've noticed it being used, well, more.

For example, the phrase 'just a little bit more' seems to be trotted out whenever I politely request that we go in out of the rain and stop stomping about over mountaintops. I translate it to mean 'there are five more hours to go, kindly go to sleep and wait for them to be over.' Also, 'Rannoch Moor' which seems to mean 'never ending expanse of drizzle-lashed heathland'.

West Highland Way

Finally, the time has come for us to start our hiking adventure. I do hope my bearers are fit enough to carry me to all the places I am so keen to see. Listening to them panting and puffing is so tiresome.

After taking the train up to Tyndrym we stayed the night in a B&B. In the afternoon we thought we would practice for the main event so we walked a little way south along the West Highland Way. Here you see my mother straddling a 'style' of the type which the Famous Five are so often found leaping over in pursuit of smugglers.

The Baby-Carrier in art and society

Yesterday we met up with reknowned artist Andrew Slater and his equally reknowned girlfriend Sarah Cook.

On a trip to the National Gallery of Scotland, I was able to continue my research for my monograph entitled 'The Baby Carrier in Art and Society'.

I was delighted to happen upon this scene which clearly shows that no less a baby than Jesus approves of baby carriers! Note the depiction of the woman worshipping the newly arrived Christ Child while wearing her less holy, but still historically important, baby on her back.

This shows that Life does indeed wear Art on her back, or front, nestled snugly in the latest baby carrying technology.

The art of deception

Today I visited the ruins of Dryburgh Abbey, the final resting place of reknowned 19th century Scottish novelist Sir Walter Scott.

His famous novels include Ivanwubba, Wub Woy, The Wubba of the Lake, Wubbaley, The Wubba of Midlothian and The Bride of Wubbamoor.

As well as these seminal books, he penned the oft-quoted lines Oh what a tangled web we weave/when first we practice to deceive.

With this couplet in mind, I pointed to some birds in the sky and said: 'Cat! Cat! Cat!'

Ahahaha. Sometimes even I can't help laughing out loud at my sophisticated witticisms.

Dead wood and young growth

Today I visited the Edinburgh Botanic Gardens with my paternal Grandma.

It was as fine a spring day as Edinburgh is likely to offer and I was pleased to visit an ancient fossilised tree.

I also spied a large greenhouse full of lush vegetation. Thinking perhaps the warm air would help me to grow larger I spent some time there, having my sedan-chair wheeled around by my bearers, but sadly I was only a little taller by the end....

Trainspotting

Here I am en route to Edinburgh, or Auld Reekie as it was once known due to its unpleasant smell in pre-sanitation days. I can't wait to add my own smell to the mix. Perhaps I can be called Young Reekie?

My new religion

Daddy is an atheist. Mummy is an agnostic Catholic. But since staying at Neil and Jo's house, I have discovered my own religion. Today I was baptised into the Orthodox Church of Alethea.

The tenets of my religion are as follows:

I hold this truth to be self-evident, that in a few months I too shall be able to pull everything out of a cupboard and onto the floor. I believe in the life of the world to come: a world in which I shall pour my water out of the cup and onto the floor. I believe that Alethea's name is 'Cat! Cat! Cat!'