What’s sauce for the goose…

A Canada Goose flying at Burnaby Lake Regional...
Image via Wikipedia

Gan-der
Noun:   
1. a male goose 

2. a look or glance: ‘Take a gander at that!’

It has to be said that mumbles have been heard, on occasion, on the subject of gandering.

Clearly gandering, in an appropriate context (and especially if there is an equal division of gandering privileges) is fair enough. The specific action which has been the cause of past mumbling on this topic is lengthy museum explanatory note gandering.

Pre-goslings of course (to stick to the waterfowl analogy), the entire point of visiting a museum or art gallery was to have a relaxing gander at all and sundry – and of course to sample carrot cake; for some reason the best carrot cake is found in art gallery cafes

Nowadays, however, the main adult activity of our family museum outings is (or rather should be) the safe, enjoyable and most importantly non-destructive herding of the gaggle around said museum. If prior knowledge of the exhibit at (potentially destructive) hand isn’t sufficient to answer small honks of enquiry then a quick skim is in order. However, it has been noted that he quite often wanders off in an interested manner, to peruse notations in greater detail at his leisure. This leaving little in the way of leisure to be allocated around else-parent.

On one notable occasion, at the Glasgow Science Centre*, he was spotted mid-complex scientific experiment a few exhibits away, which led me to assume he must have charge of at least 1 or possibly 2 goslings. But no.

As, I believe, has been mentioned, this has been mumbled about more than once.

During this week’s mushroom hunting walk, however, I had a road to da duck pond moment. (Okay, I am going to stop with the getting-very-thin-now goose metaphors). Around about the fourth time that I said ‘can you keep an eye on these three while I have a wee look for conkers/at fungi/behind that waterfall’ I actually heard myself saying it. At the same time I remembered the many times I had made the exact same request at Culzean/Lochwinnoch and numerous other family favourite out-door settings.

There followed some mumbling of the slightly defiant (in the way only someone eating humble pie can be slightly defiant) variety. Which was followed by a gracious acknowledgement of the pie-eating offering. Which was followed by some smirking.

*The GSC must have heard similar mumblings as they run a regular adults only evening.

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