“The Double Life of the Slimy, Acrobatic Leopard Slug” Leopard slugs, a hermaphroditic gastropod commonly found under a wide variety of boards, rocks and flowerpots in New York City, has a mating ritual that would make Caligula blush.

“Ants March Differently, Depending on Direction” Desert ants change their walking motion to haul the remains of other insects, but still navigate unsighted toward home.

“Meet Luca, the Ancestor of All Living things” A single-cell, bacterium-like organism clinging to volcanic sea events may have been the forebear of every animal, plant and microbe on earth.

Those are reports from the New York Times this week of a few of the totally irrelevant studies that are going on these days and they are the reason I still have hope for the world we live in. You can look them up.

They are what give my conscience permission to prattle on about handkerchiefs and Kleenex or whatever. I am so grateful that some people are willing to devote their lives to irrelevancies, more important to our existence, to our survival than all those benighted souls (do they have souls? - I wonder where they put them) who concentrate on fighting, getting even, killing and destroying.

So I’ll go on prattling. I have lots of irrelevant things I want to think about with you.

handkerchief |ˈhaŋkətʃɪf|noun (pl.handkerchiefs or handkerchieves |-tʃiːvz| )a square of cotton or other finely woven material intended for wiping one's nose.ORIGIN mid 16th cent.: from hand + kerchief.

kerchief |ˈkəːtʃɪf|nouna piece of fabric used to cover the head.• literary a handkerchief.DERIVATIVESkerchiefed adjectiveORIGIN Middle English kerchef, from Old French cuevrechief, from couvrir ‘to cover’ + chief ‘head’.

I’m so old I can remember when I owned handkerchiefs, real ones, finely woven material intended for wiping one’s nose. I had an aunt who used to give me a couple for Christmas every year, good ones, not as big as my father’s and not monogrammed like his, but more colourful. I used mine for lots of activities besides wiping my nose. In those days before Bic pens I used them to wipe my leaking, so-called fountain pens. They were also useful for wiping shoes, faster than polishing. I never stuffed them in my blouse though I knew some girls who did. I used oranges instead, but just for dress-up. I wonder when Kleenex was invented…

Kleenex was the first Western facial tissue, introduced in 1924 and originally marketed as a way to remove cold cream or makeup (it had been in use for centuries before in Japan; see History of facial tissue for details). Wikipedia

I never used to call it facial tissue, but people do now because there are a lot of different ones on the market. The word Kleenex is a registered brand name. It’s close to being a generic term but not quite. I never could say hanky; that seemed too cutesy, like panties and bra. I hate the nicknames.

An aside: a thong used to be a kind of sandal but it’s a kind of lingerie now- smaller than a bikini. What I used to call thongs are now flip-flops. It’s hard to keep ahead of these things.

A few years ago a very elegant close acquaintance gave me a very elegant handkerchief to thank me for something I had done for her. It came in its own special little square, flat box, enfolded in tissue paper and it was embroidered with a flower in one corner, white on white. I didn’t dare wipe my Bic on it let alone my nose. I still have it somewhere. I guess the Queen owns and uses handkerchiefs like that. I remember reading about some of the purveyors of fine luxury items to the monarch who get to claim they are the official suppliers of whatever item they sell, like Yardley’s - I remember that name - and others. I wonder if they offer the Queen a discount. A few weeks ago I was unable to get to the bank before I totally ran out of cash and I didn’t have any subway tickets. I searched through the pockets of various jackets and coats looking for spare change. I didn’t find any coins. It turned out that a single fare wouldn’t do when I told my plight to the transit clerk. You have to buy a bundle, or now - a Presto, I think it’s called (I used Senior tickets). He let me through and told me to pay double the next time, which I did. Well, there were no coins in my pockets but boy, did I have a collection of Kleenex/facial tissue. I guess that goes back to some reflex action rooted in time, when I tucked a tissue, a lipstick and a dollar - “mad money” - into a pocket before leaving the house. Those were in my carefree days when I didn’t need keys, ID, or glasses, or, or, or (driver’s license, credit cards, notebook, Bic or the equivalent, etc.).

I bet the Queen doesn’t stuff her ubiquitous handbag with all that. One ladylike handkerchief will do.

Ai me.