Morris Minor Owners Club

As I was preparing the basement woodroom for winter (it's not cold yet, just better to do it when it's warm), I saw a little black triangle in the cobwebs. I've seen them before, in winter - hibernating butterflies with the wings closed up.
So I dashed upstairs to check the date on the computer, and discovered it was the middle of August. Overstaying its welcome, rather! Probably dead.
Went back and gave it a gentle poke. A little movement! I picked it carefully out of the cobwebs, and put it outside on a piece of wood. Nothing happened - wings still up, dead still.
I moved a finger towards it, intending to give it another encouraging poke. Suddenly, it flashed its wings open and made a kind of hissing noise, like a snake! The sudden show of colour was spectacular.
It flashed its wings every time I put my hand near it, each time from the rear, and made the noise. Probably a butterfly defensive show of aggression, like, don't mess with me, I'm paper-thin and weigh half a gram!
I gave up with the poking, and a few minutes later it took off suddenly and rose high into the bright sunshine.

In a troubled world, it was a magnificent sight!

Is this a metaphore of the rebirth of a dark Minor saloon shedding a winter covering of dust as it is pushed from a dark dingy garage. A few prods on the fuel pump being needed before it bursts into life?

No, but I love the analogy!

You've got to be a lot older to appreciate butterflies. Ring any bells ?
btw Top marks for your compassion!

The TV programme?

Try a book!!

Orwell?

No! Think Zen!

...and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance? Richard sumfin.

You made it! Robert Pirsig.

I read that in the seventies, and I recommend it to fellow tinkerers. I can't remember anything about butterflies though. Probably time to check it out again. It got me interested in tinkering, anyway.

It's the story of a guy crossing the States on his bike, with his son - one chapter about the bike, the next about the philosophy, and so on, as I recall.

Robert M Pirsig, to be pedantic . (Google)

I've read it many times, sure its blackwing gulls he mentions (patting his son on the pillion on the leg)? But the same applies to butterflies anyway!

I can't remember anything about butterflies though

Reminds me about something significant that I forgot and shows the power of the subconcious.
One of the first books I read as a kid was an illustrated copy of The Iron Giant. The pictures made a real impression on me but as the years came and went, dinosaurs became my main interest and I spent my time dreaming of being a Paleontologist and drawing ancient scenes on every bit of scrap paper I could find. School came and went, so too did other interests, a few minor jobs and then college arrived (late). 4 years in, I was training to be an illustrator in Cornwall. Hundreds of miles away from my grim, grey upbringing on Teesside and a million miles away in terms of what I imagined life was to be. I needed to think of some conceptual artwork for a project and came up with a couple of black and white illustrations which were very well received and I thought were a real turning point in terms of being viable, commercial artwork, rather than the dreamy, hippy s*** that everyone thinks will get them a job at the end of it . That was that. HND in hand I skulked back to an employable neighbourhood and found work with a Civil Engineer.
Two years later I was shopping for pressies in a bookshop and found, by chance, a copy of the Iron Giant. I had not seen or recalled this book since reading it 20 years previously. My face dropped. Within were the illustrations that had inspired my artwork. The smilarity was unmistakable. I had regurgitated the ideas without conciously remembering them and called them my own. I was amazed but frankly quite peeved.
The story has a happy ending though. Just after leaving college I had had a call from the Faculty Principal. Someone had show an interest in my artwork and wanted to buy them. A deal was done and I popped over to the gentlemans house in Cheltenham (very posh, split level, open plan - full of art). One fat cheque, one happy customer. His name was Phillip Green. I still wonder if it was THE Phillip Green?

A fine tale indeed! Life to me is all about building up a good stock of fine tales, so we can amuse ourselves and others in our twilight years. A million in the bank, but nothing to say.....not for me!

I'm still looking for "Mary Bear" books featuring the 'Owl Man', so named because of the glasses he wore. I used to get them from the local library when about six or seven - they had loads.

I can't remember anything about them, I just remember the excitement of going back for the next book.

Aha! Just googled 'mary bear owl man', and there it all is! I got nothing last time I did this google. Check them out if you have young children and read to them. Link to a preview:

http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=xpI9 ... an&f=false

Lordy, Lordy!!

I'd quite forgotten about Mary Plain! Hidden in the memory, filed between Christopher Robin and Mr Mc Gregor Simple innocent stories of yesteryear, not a Teletubbie in sight!

The "Mary" books seem to be out of print - what folly is this? Still, there's enough in the preview to keep the kids happy - just improvise for the missing pages!
Beautiful, old-fashioned stuff, as you say. I looked through the preview, and can't imagine how I managed to read this when I was seven! Then again, I can't remember much about being seven.

I can't remember much about yesterday

While we are on the subject of childhood books did anyone have the old 'letterbox' sized Railway Series books? Regurgitated since as the Thomas The Tank Engine stories the original books were landscape and had a beautiful illustration for each double page and were wonderful. I had about 7 as a child but made sure when my kids came along they had the set. IIRC that's over 30 of them and ebay was my friend when it came to finding them.