Nats and Gnats…

Did I mention that I recently joined the Whitby Naturalists?
“What?” says my mother, sounding disapproving, when I tell her on the phone. “Whitby Nationalists? Will you be voting for Nigel Farrage?”
“No, mum,” I reply. “Naturalists.”
I hear her sigh with relief. At almost 92 years of age, she’s been a lifelong socialist.
I tell my daughter on Skype.
“What?” says my son-in-law, looming into the picture. “Does that mean you all get your kit off?”
“Very funny,” I say. Although, when I come to think about it, the creatures we have seen in the slide-shows at the meetings the Other One and I have attended so far, haven’t been wearing much in the way of kit. A few feathers perhaps. A dusting of fur. But there’s been a lot of nudity. Hippos, for instance. They have a two inch skin. Not many socks on a butterfly either.
Joining the Whitby Nats, as they seem to be known, makes me feel like a rather unpleasant creature with a lot of leg and a nasty bite (my husband would probably say that’s a fair description). It has, so far, been a wonderful affirmation that there are people who genuinely care for the environment and the natural world. So I look forward to this season’s events and talks.
And talking of gnats, when I tried to type Farrage into my word document, the spelling suggestion was farrago, which the dictionary defines as confused mixture, hodgepodge, medley. Don’t worry, Mum, I shan’t be voting for him.

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2 Responses to Nats and Gnats…

  1. When I was working as a naturalist, one of my naturalist friends was called a naturist. I think he didn’t know any better, but my friend did not appreciate it!

    • adrienne says:

      Well, it always tickles me. When I lived in France there were quite a few naturist colonies around. There were also a fair few preying mantises!

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