Sign language
Some years ago, the Mister and I saw a sign in England that said, It is an offense to litter in the Royal Borough of Kensington. The civility of English signs amused us; here it would simply insist Don’t Litter.
Flash forward to Linda in New Zealand. Whether they like to admit it or not, Kiwis are Limey clones in many ways. Take, for instance, their sign language:
In the U.S. this would simply stipulate No Swimming. Or this, which could be summed up as Road Work Ahead:
No reason to use two or three words when a paragraph will do. After all, it is rather rude to bark out a comman without sharing the why of it. And if you’re lucky, you won’t be rear ended before you complete your reading assignment.
But then there is this sign:
Just about the time we could use a little explanation, we are on our own. Maybe, if a gent gets to feeling frisky at the winery, he heads for the cattery. But that’s just a guess.
Sorry for not coming round more often. My brother has a new-ish myspace addiction, and my sister in law has lots of work related searches to do at night, so I have to wait my turn on a computer that isn’t mine. (ie: midnight onward, or five minute breaks in their schedule. My blog reading list is growing mighty long. but I haven’t forgotten you! Wicked love and good vibes from NC)
if you don’t insert a space there. Lame.