I am singing lots of silly songs at present. Mostly about poo. Le Pomme is horrified.
One of my favourite ones (not to do with bodily functions, never fear) is one that I picked up from a tv advert in New Zealand. For those of you who are as geographically challenged as I, I offer you the following information. New Zealand is made up of two islands, imaginatively called North Island and South Island (that has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?). Between the two runs a ferry service called the Interislander. Apparently, this is one of THE ferry journeys of the world which is beyond spectacular as the ship wends its way through stunning scenery. I wouldn’t know, when I was on it the fog was down and you could barely see the end of your own nose let alone any vistas.
That’s what it’s supposed to look like.
At least I was lucky enough to be on this service for a calm crossing during a wonderful holiday there a couple of years ago. Because on rough weather days the crossing can take around eleventy million hours because they have to go the long way round, and passengers are tossed around like soggy sheets in a washing machine. By all accounts it’s pretty hair-raising and vomit inducing. I chose to fly back across the Cook Straits, just in case my luck had run out, after I found out this information.
By way of amusement you can watch the Interislander tv advert which sparked my singing obsession here. It’s become pretty iconic in New Zealand as a song, according to Them What Advise Me on this sort of thing.
Its now becoming the bedtime song of choice for the Petite Pommes. They’re too small to object and I find it quite soothing, so why not? The problem is I can only remember two lines, so these two get repeated ad infinitum. It makes me happy. It makes Le Pomme stabby. And who can blame him? I’m hardly Adele.
The subjects of adverts generally is something that gets my blood up. I will save my ranting for another day, one on which I have not much else to think about and time to build up a nice head of steam for you all to chortle as I gradually type out my frustrations.
Now there’s something nice for you all to look forward to. Never let it be said I don’t give you anything.