Frog armies only collect dust, but owls can draw blood

PROWLING through the internet recently, I came across a video clip of an international convention of salt and pepper shaker collectors. Hundreds of people from all over the world (predominantly America) were showing off their treasures, swopping sets with other collectors and buying and selling salt and pepper pots.

Some of the conventioneers were interviewed and showed photographs of their collections. Several boasted that they had added special rooms to their houses to display their shakers.

One collector announced she now had 35 000 sets of salt and pepper shakers – all sorted into categories. There were displays of Walt Disney character shakers, animals, vehicles, famous people, antique shakers, hand-turned wooden ones, you name it, she had it – and was still collecting.

You may find this a strange obsession, but I have an idea how the collection bug bites.

I had a dear friend, Sally, who collected frogs. She wasn’t particularly interested in frogs, but somebody had once given her a ceramic frog as a gift. The next thing that happened was somebody else saw it displayed on her dresser and thought: “Oh, Sally likes frogs. I’ll buy her one for her next birthday present.” Then there were two frogs. “Oh, I see you like frogs,” said a third friend. “I have a jade frog to add to your collection.”

Pretty soon Sally’s house was wall-to-wall frogs in every shape and size. Some flew overhead and others played guitars or rode motorbikes and her friends were delighted because they always knew what to give her for birthdays and Christmases. She didn’t particularly like frogs. I had a similar experience when my children decided to call our house “The Wolery” after Owl’s house in the Winnie the Pooh stories. Of course owls started arriving in droves. Remember the craze for “printers’ trays”? I had printers’ trays bulging with owls. I also had owl paperweights, owl book-ends, fridge magnets and owl candlesticks. And, of course, owl salt and pepper sets. I can happily report that almost all my owls have flown the nest, mostly to charity shops and jumble sales. I had a large owl engraved on one of my windows, but a burglar smashed the glass to gain entry to my house.

He cut himself on the broken glass and I did not feel sorry for him. He should have known owls were predators and hunted at night. He left a blood trail and the security guys caught him down the street. Score one for owls. My home is still called The Wolery and my next door neighbour has kindly added a ceramic owl to my house name-board.

It looks quite handsome, but I do hope it doesn’t invite any friends to stay.

Last Laugh

A little boy was having supper with his family when he asked his father: “Is it okay eat grasshoppers?”

“Don’t be disgusting when we are eating,” said his father. “We can talk about nasty things like that later if you want to, but not at table.”

After dinner the father said: “Now why did you want to know about grasshoppers?”

“Oh, it’s not important,” said the lad casually. “There was a grasshopper in your soup, but it’s gone now.”

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