Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
Saturday, 28 May 2016
As I mentioned three weeks ago, I recently bought scarecrows to put in the garden of our future new home when we move in. I love scarecrows and since I'm a lousy gardener (read: I barely did ever gardening at all) I thought they would personalize the new place. My brother PJ commented on the post: "You can put one in the bedroom of your son to traumatize him for the rest of his life". PJ had received one scarecrow doll1/plush for his birthday, a bit like the one you can see on the picture. It was a big thing and it gave him nightmares. So I think my bro's comment was not merely a jest: he was seriously warning me about potential childhood traumas. And he may be right: I blogged years ago about the menacing and creepy nature of scarecrows. So I am not so sure about buying more for the garden. In any case, my brother's comment deserves to be a great unknown line.