You may know the T.V. title, "Only Fools and Horses." I'm borrowing it to describe incidents from the Twofer's recent vacation. Had you ever seen a shin ripped open by a Blue-Footed Booby's beak, we could begin with that, but instead I fall back--ha!--on swordly movies. You know the scene moments after a fight when the hero's attendant whispers, "I'm afraid it's deep." That was me on Christmas Day, wounding my shin. I was lying flat, looking at the sky, thanking goodness my head was unscathed, thinking I was in a movie, "Bring on the rum; one slug for the wound, one for the shock." Hawaiian rock is sharp. And horses? While I lay for days recovering, I was comforted by gorgeous views and soft sea breezes. No need for sympathy. And in the next field over were two of Oprah Winfrey's horses, miniature ones, said to have cost eighty thousand dollars. They were muzzled by devices. They were on a weight-loss program. If instead of "Dad's Army" there'd also been a show called, "Dad's Handy," I'd have a groaner of a second opening. My father is a Burns man, an Auld Lang Syne type; at partings he looks you in the eye, sticks out a hand and follows the song's instruction. I'm not like my sister-in-law-- who dissolves into tears on all such occasions--and I know that I'm luckier than my forebears at such moments, but farewells are not joyous occasions, so you'd do well to remember that "Auld Lang Syne" is actually a sad and sentimental song; "gie's a hand o' thine" has wobble in. So what's a body to do when parting in the gloamin, or at Portland International Airport? What Scots expect--just your best. Then journey home, sing an emboldening song, drink strong tea. (You expected "whisky"? On a Sunday?) David Ritchie, Portland, Oregon------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html