A Different Sort of Ink Blot.

You know how the brain has a curious faculty for seeing pictures where there are only random shapes – like the death’s head or the elephant or the smiling woman in patterned curtains or wallpaper? (I used to see them everywhere as kid, especially in the patterned curtains in my bedroom.) Well, the electric fan heater in my office gives me a fascinating alternative along similar lines.

It’s a good heater in several ways, but it’s quite loud and the sound often carries odd harmonics (if that’s the right term) which sound like somebody singing. Usually the song is gentle and ethereal – the sort of song a fanciful person like me might associate with wood nymphs or minor goddesses – and is quite pleasant.

But tonight it was Polly Wolly Doodle. Should I worry?