This post comes about an idea I got from making a comment on another blog.

No cats were harmed in writing this post.

Probably not plonk

Probably not plonk

The comment revolved around the word ‘plonk’.

Now there are two types of plonk.

1. Refers to cheap and nasty wine.

2. The other does not.

In the nodding-off moments of my nap, I recalled a saying from the past. Now you’d probably have to be an Ozzie or a Kiwi to understand, ‘slurping the turps’.

Imagine a Brazilian student of English being confronted with a conversation that went along the following lines.

“Wotcha upta?”

“Jussslurpin’ the turps.”

“Ah, knockin’ back a few then?”

Won't find it here either

Won’t find it here either

Now that small snippet bears absolutely no relation to the English that said student is being taught. He/she is probably going WTF? That is if he/she has reached the WTF-stage in their lessons. Any exposure to English in this form before the WTF-stage is an act of cruelty and the teacher should be put down.

‘Turps’, of course refers to turpentine used here as a synonym for plonk.

The other kind of ‘plonk’ refers to putting something down carelessly. As in, “I was exhausted when I got home and plonked the bags on the table!”

This is the kind of plonk that I referred to in my comment.

I have been following a rather sweet story in a blog, Unconfirmed Bachelorette, which has been detailing the wooing of a stray cat into the domesticity of UB’s home. She has been doing the wooing for about three weeks and now has the cat, Sophie, safely installed, but yet to meet her resident playmates.

Lixo remains plonked

Lixo remains plonked

At this stage I left a comment, “I love this story. But so much fuss. When I got Lixo, I met him on the bar veranda, petted him and drank my beer. The next night he followed me home (11 metres) cautiously came inside and I picked him up and plonked him in front of the cat food. When he came back into the living room again, I plonked him on the sofa, and that’s were he’s stayed ever since. No ceremonies.”

And that’s my method of wooing a homeless cat home.

Now, I admire UB’s patience and it’s a lovely story. But I don’t have that patience, I am also more pragmatic… plonk! If you like it, stay, if you don’t, you can see the door.

Now it is obvious that UB and I are both cat-people, it’s just our methods differ.

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