The Unseen Guest

Busy hands and idle minds have knitted many a sweater; Busy minds and idle hands have knitted many a brow.

Elk have not been seen in Switzerland for many a year. In the interests of scientific accuracy, please strike the idea of elk from your mind. If you must, think of ibexes instead, a fierce and agile type of goat with great spiraling horns. Marmots will also do in a pinch, but under no circumstances should you think of elk. No. Elk. The elkless among you may now proceed.

There is power in words used accurately and well, and tragedy and missed train connections in words used carelessly.

If you want fresh ideas in your head, get some fresh mud on your boots.

Many are happy to give advice; few are happy to take it.

An Encounter with the Man-Eating Savages of Ahwoo-Ahwoo, as Told by the Cabin Boy and Sole Survivor of a Gruesomely Failed Seafaring Expedition Through Parts Unknown: Absolutely Not to Be Read by Children Under Any Circumstances, and That Means You,

Poor Admiral. Soon you will be stuffed.” Cassiopeia sounded rather cheerful at the prospect. “Don’t be sad. I will visit you in Uncle Freddy’s study.

Hmm. I’ll need my Always Waterproof Fashion Ostrich Leash.

This time all the Incorrigibles chimed in. “Nevermore!” they cried. Somehow a turnip found its way from Cassiopeia’s plate to Alexander’s. Penelope tried to kick a warning under the table, but her foot hit the admiral’s cane instead and gave a nasty stub to her toe.

On our third day at Gooden-Baden, as I lay abed waiting for my morning tea tray to arrive, Edward went for a soak in the medicinal tar pits. He never came back. All they found was his Bavarian hunting hat, floating on the surface of the tar, with those jaunty feathers sticking up and a sweet little sprig of edelweiss pinned to the hatband. A sticky trail of bubbles and a ruined hat. That was what was left of my husband. The hat was new, too; he had only just purchased it in the gift shop. . . .” The widow was overcome by emotion and had to pause. “Poor hat,” said Beowulf with feeling, perhaps missing the deeper meaning of the widow’s tears.

Be a good egg and speak up.

Biscuits would be good, too,” she whispered, scrawling the word onto the list. She spelled it “biskit,” but Penelope was still too muddled to correct her.

I see biscuit!” “No, I see biscuit!” “Giddy-yap, giddy-yap, Rainbowooooo

whose brain was no bigger than a medium-sized walnut,

us,” she thought, “or at least some bits of cheddar

could not sleep,” she explained, “and decided to walk