Skip to content

Ladybird

September 28, 2011

You should be protecting your child from these, not sending them to bed together.

What is this late burst of summer, then? And not the summer we’ve grown used to either – grey, humid, still – but a summer real and continental: the sky is clear and blue, there is a breeze, you can smell the sea, even by the Chiswick flyover. Naturally, in such weather, RoT decided to sit on the fire escape and read some Sylvia Plath. As the midday sun roasted RoT’s skin, a crawling sensation spread up its arm – two ladybirds had landed and were leading a merry dance around each other. RoT brushed them away, hoping to have killed at least one of them, when its eye was drawn to Plath’s Blackberrying:

I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.

How true of the ladybird is this lyrical deception. On the exterior, a juvenile brightness: a children’s book, a night-light. But startle the ladybird for one second and that mask shatters, revealing instead a monster of legs and wings and feelers and antennae. The ladybird sans shell is a grotesque creature, like a maggot with wings. And its spotty coat is transformed into a razor-edged shield, the once-playful red now embolic of anger and, probably, Communism.

Verdict: a clever PR campaign, like that of the grey squirrel, doesn’t fool Reviews of Tings.

*

 

Advertisements
No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: