Heh Diddle Diddle … The Cow Jumped Over the Moon


cat and fiddle this oneHeh diddle diddle,

The Cat and the Fiddle,

The Cow jumped over the Moon.

Mr Moon

The little Dog laughed,

To see such sport,

And the Dish ran away with the Spoon.

 

As you can see, the Cat and the Fiddle are still in good shape. The Moon is a bit like me; worn at both ends.

These wonderful figures adorned my room when I was really little growing up in Norman. I’m not sure where the Fork and the Spoon ran off to. You never know with cutlery.

I believe in hording keeping old family stuff, just because. Were it up to me, everything would probably be kept in a giant box somewhere under the house. Thankfully, the Missus is the most organised person on the planet, and she ensures that everything is neatly stored, filed, or mounted.

The Cat and the Fiddle, and the Moon, reside on the wall behind me, just to my right, down here in our “Media Room”, which used to be the “Rumpus Room”, which is what New Zealanders call their “Basement”.

 

eli in red boots

Cowboys wear red boots.

Although The Cat and the Fiddle are not as cool as the red cowboy boots of my youth, modeled above by Junior in 1992, they are really special because they make me think of my Mom’s laugh.  They are priceless.

I will pass them down to Junior when he has children, assuming that, by then, he has outgrown the “phase” where he does things like leave his brand new dress shoes on the roof of his car and then drive off.  Or he has married a young woman who is all kinds of tidy and organized, just like his “Mum”, as they say Downunder.  (I know this just made him squirm. Tough. It’s true.)

One day, Junior will also inherit a whole bunch of tools. They are sitting, unused, on the top shelves of my shed because I am not what you would call a “master craftsman”, see adjustable gate latch below.

 

gate latch

Mastercrafted by the blog.

No, these ancient family tools were used — some actually hand-made — by my Dad (fireman), Grampa (locksmith and gunsmith) or Great Grampa (blacksmith, gunsmith, everthingsmith), who I wrote about here.

 

planes this one

Plane and simply out of my league.

I really wish I could use the planes, above, especially the hand-made, all-wooden one in the back, which is strategically covered with natural spider webs to preserve it.  I never tried to use it because I have no idea how to adjust it, or where to pour in the gasoline.

I did try to use the metal plane in the front, just once. You would be absolutely astounded how much damage a man could do to a new door with his Grampa’s 100-year-old plane in as little as 30 seconds. Just ask the Missus. On second thought, don’t do that.

While the plane is capable of ruining doors in a single bite, it is nowhere near as dangerous as the 100-year-old sledge hammer, shown below, with its baby brother hammer, whose head is held on with a small screw, because I am a professional writer.

 

hammers this one

Forged with love.

I learned the sledge lesson the hard way.  I’d decided to “swing away” while fence-building, even though the ancient handle was rotten and loose. Turns out you should NOT swing just such a sledge hammer with all your might, less the five-pound iron sledge head go a’flying, which, you have to trust me on this, will knock the Heh Diddle Diddle right out of anything in its flight path.

Hypothetically speaking, so there is no need to mention this to the Missus.

In addition to the planes and hammers, Junior will one day inherit my Grampa’s hand-crafted wooden tool box (filled with all sorts of stuff that does who knows what) and a large collection of saws that are, technically speaking, of the “small, medium and large” type.  They have what “we in the trade” call a “variety of handles and blades for different uses”.

You would be forgiven for thinking that one of the saws is for sawing around corners.  It kept getting stuck in the wood one time and, since you can’t let bad tool behavior go, I had to severely reprimand it, which is why the blade now looks like a boomerang with teeth. (I actually felt real bad when I bent Gramps’ saw.  Even though I’m sure he’s in Heaven, I bet his eyes rolled right back in his head when I did that.)

I truly look forward to one day seeing Junior teach his son or daughter how to use these wonderful old tools from generations past.  He has the skills — he can play piano and make stuff with his hands, just like his ancestors.

If Junior can get Winky Blinky Fire Truck’s eyes to wiggle back and forth when it rolls, that would be awesome. It might even convince the Fork and the Spoon to come back home.

 

Firetruck

We assume his winkie is rusted.

 

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