St. Tiggywinkles Hospital for Hedgehogs

Dear blogosphere,

I have neglected you for quite a while and thought that perhaps we were through all together, but you keep whispering in the back of my mind and I thought I would try you on for size, one more time. In the spirit of total honesty, I must admit that I started you with two motives, as a vehicle for sharing the ridiculous ideas/stories I sometimes have and for validating my ordinary existence (that sounds like two already, but really it is only the first) and for the shallow reason of impressing a boy, or rather introducing him to myself slowly in a way that I am not socially competent enough to do face to face. Moral of the story, don't start a blog to impress a boy. BUT! now that said boy and I have moved on, I think it appropriate to re-aquaint myself with you in a purer, less beguiling way. As a friend of mine said this morning, "you were right! Quiet people really are worth taking the time to get to know." I'll introduce myself again, slowly, more deliberately, and without any ulterior motive.

In the spirit of celebrating the ridiculous, a few weeks ago I heard a story on NPR that caught my attention, not because of the content, but because I heard the phrase "St. Tiggywinkles Hospital for Hedgehogs."

I immediately had three questions:

1. Is this a joke?

2. What his a hospital for hedgehogs?

3. If such a hospital does indeed exist, why is it called St. Tiggywinkles?

I looked up the story later and it was a popular science piece about the physics of fleas' knees. Turns out St. Tiggywinkles is a good source for test subjects as hedgehogs have a lot of fleas. Who knew?!

Anyway, in case you were wondering, such a place does exist and, surprise surprise, it is in the UK where they do in fact cater to injured hedgehogs, orphaned fawns, and badgers in need. Beatrix Potter, this is your twenty-first century rehab center. Squirrel Nutkins and Jemima Puddle Ducks also welcome!

And also, on the subject of Beatrix Potter, if you are in the mood for another strange delight and have friends who are also into the charmingly-bizarre, take a look at Tales of Beatrix Potter. Thanks to my ever enthusiastic, cousin David for subjecting me to this in the first place. It is quite thrilling, but you do need a companion or two for comic relief when you watch this 1971 production of adults in life-size animal costumes doing ballet in the English countryside.

So blogosphere, thanks for having me back and I hope to do better this time.

Cheers,

Kenley