Copyright The Quipping Queen 2005I LEFT MY TOES IN TUKTOYAKTUK -- Or, Tittynoping Tales from a Tavern Fox --
** Theolonius McTavish, a trivial talkingstock (an Old English term for an object of conversation) who inevitably forgets
punch-lines to knock-knock jokes and consequently is rarely offered free drinks by pub patrons unless they are woebegone and desperate for companionship of a somewhat cabobbled, copper-nosed cronk (i.e. a mystified, jolly-nosed, gossiping sort of soul who frequently inhabits smoke-filled haunts with bad lighting and belching balladeers as only form of nightly entertainment)**
Being a mirthful mundivagant of sorts, I decided it was high time to don my gallant gumboots, garish gunnysack, and goose-down garb to take a gander at some far-flung places in need of my presence.
While some souls leave their hearts in San Francisco, I left another part of my anatomy somewhere else. If truth be told, I left my toes in Tuktoyaktuk, (along with a memorable meal of minute rice, mushy peas and milk pudding).
Why Tuktoyaktuk? Well why not! Any town with a tongue-twisting title like Tuktoyaktuk deserves to be visited … even by a six-water-grog, sky-boshing Scot like me. The fact that it’s situated in a godforsaken place, (actually it's a charming little northern outpost nestled conveniently in dark deep-freeze and mooching muskeg of Canada), is a truly bonus.
Before departing on my jocular journey, I needed to know a little more about “Land of Blizzards, Bugs & Beer”. Being second-largest nation on earth is one thing but having a conversation with a Canuck is quite another.
One piece of advice … begin every conversation with “So, how’s weather …over there …up there, or …down there anyway? Then be prepared for a scintillating pity pot story that captures essence of Canada -- where it’s blinking cold and wet outside, it's much too muggy or miserable to play outdoors, or it's downright dangerous to stick a toe out door with all blasted bugs or bears camping on front porch.
