Italian dreaming

Lost in the mindless churning desert storms of half forgotten dreams and make believe fantasies of what is and what is not I look back to wonderful moments in my life and wonder were they all realities or were some of them part real, part fable and if there is fable what sort of lesson am I, this mere mortal of brain, bones, rather flabby brawn and yet with soul, meant to understand from it all.
One year ago I went on a marvellous trip to Italy with my grandson Guy, when I recall those moments now they are clouded in the mysteries of magical moments while walking through such magnificent places as the Vatican and Sistine Chapel, where totally lost in the beauty and opulence of all, their are scant recollections of what was and what was not. Vivid colours seemed to abound and link the Catholic Christian belief system into something very tangible and believable, as if here at least there is positive proof of the Christian God and of Jesus. One could almost hear the prayers and hymn singing of ancient worshippers as their feet shuffled about those architectural masterpieces and hear their sighs as they gazed in wonderment at the beautiful artworks that abounded throughout.

A perfect peace seemed to pervade through all, perhaps here was a glimpse of Heaven.

Heart attacks and organ transplants

What is it about modern age man that we all desire some form of immortality? We all seem to be seeking not just our allotted fifteen minutes of fame but rather life eternal in whatever form or substance that we feel we are best suited to?
Having a heart attack, or a stroke for that matter, is surely natures way of saying to us, get a grip on things if you want to enjoy in the indulgence of life on Earth. That is to me exactly what life is all about, that Nature, the Universe, or the Creator has indulged our egotistical souls and allowed us to come down from wherever to play on this delightful planet. Like any game we ever play there will always be the time limit thing. Yes time, as in the second, minute and hour context is very much a human manifestation, but time whether it be clock bound or dictated to by seasons and Sun and Moon is an integral part of life in any form.
Is the continuation of life so important to some of us that are are willing to happily take on someone else's body parts so that we can continue on our own journey in search of perfect immortality. How can we honestly say that we are complete and perfect when we have borrowed parts from someone else's loss of human and Earthly life?
Are we so egotistical that we think we can remain here forever, and not sooner or later begin to be rather boring? Why are we so great that we can even think we deserve to be one of the immortal chosen few?
Immortality is seldom handed down to us in our human bodily form, yet it can so easily be achieved by words and deeds.
I would far rather live on in the minds of men for something I have done or said than be remembered simply because I have outlived millions of other souls that exist or have existed on Earth.

The Dalai Lama's visit to South Africa

How dare the esteemed leaders of South Africa refuse the Dalai Lama a visa to visit the country this month. They are not only insulting a great and well loved man but also every follower of his in South Africa. What happened to the freedom of religion that our constitution promises, why are some South Africans allowed to welcome their religious leaders, but others not?
To many people of diverse religious beliefs the Dalai Lama signifies peace throughout the planet and what harm could be done by his blessing South Africa with a visit?
When our government does things like this it only shows the world what a small and behind times third world country South Africa is. No country, no matter how great or small a world leader it may be has the right to dictate to another over religious matters. Are our leaders not brave enough to face up to the Chinese and say butt out of the running of our country and tend only to matters of politics or trade between your country and ours.
If our leaders want and expect the world to respect them and South Africa as being an active leader in the world then they should start behaving as first world leaders should and not allow themselves to be dictated too.

On the street where you live.

What to each of us does the street where we live mean? As we turn into our street what are our feelings? Home at last? The end of another day? Peace, comfort, tranquillity, safety, those good feelings and thoughts? Or do we feel unsettled, moody, this is the last place I want to be, frightened, jittery, as if we do not belong?
Each of us needs a safe harbour, a sanctuary, and as we turn the corner to go home we need to feel that here we are safe, here we are content and happy. We need to pull up at our driveway or gate and feel that this is our home and where we belong.
What made us decide to move into our street, what were the attractions and the reasons? Did we finally find our dream home, or were we compelled to move here due to financial or other reasons? Were our homes inherited by death or default? Why are our homes our homes, and are we happy on the street where we live.
Our street should be a part of our home, Neighbours should watch out for each other. In a strange and funny way everyone on our street is a part of our extended family. So often these days we tend to give a neighbour a wave or a quick hello and then carry on with our lives. Perhaps it is time to start taking an interest in each other, and to start watching out for each other, for all the children in the street, for each others pets and property.
We need to start caring more about our neighbourhoods and about the street where we live.

Getting the ball rolling

Is there ever a soul that is not in some way searching for that which will improve their life in some way or other? How often do we hear people wishing they could win the lotto, you know, the if only folk who sit back in their chairs and daydream about what they could be, if only.
They are usually the ones who do not take well to the changes that occur in their lives, they want all the good things to happen but are not willing to take those first few steps to get the ball rolling. If we want our lives to improve then it is up to us to decide that we have to face changes with the most positive attitudes imaginable. No matter how negative a change may seem at the time, it is up to us to search until we find that which is positive, or to turn things around in our favour until they become positive.
It is also necessary to look inside ourselves and see those negative aspects that we need to work on and change for the better. We cannot sit back and relax for a moment, life on Earth is so short and the more we can develop and change with our own personal growth the better it is for all.
Always remember that every action has a reaction and by seeking to develop ourselves through change we not only improve things for ourselves but often make life easier for others as well.
The curious mind that is always seeking and wanting change is the mind that not only develops itself but develops things around it to make life a lot easier and more in tune with the Universe.

A creature of habit, three cars called Annie One, Two and Three, and three special dogs called Lucy - Part three

The third Lucy came into my world very soon after Lucy Staffie. I had missed my faithful old companion and as a present Ray, my husband, took me to choose a puppy from a litter of Border collies. I think he felt that I needed a change from the usual short haired dogs I had always preferred. When I think back I often feel that fate led us down the road to fetch Lucy collie.
It was not a hard decision at all to choose her, she was the smallest in the litter and looked like she needed more love than the others. I immediately named her Lucy.
Lucy collie was an energetic, long legged galoopy puppy, always into everything and wanting to explore the world around her. She loved country life and would disappear by herself to explore over hill and dale without a care and would reappear whenever she felt hungry or lonely. She was brave and full of enthusiasm for all that she discovered on her expeditions around the farm. It was probably this sheer joy of adventure that nearly cost Lucy collie her life.
One Saturday evening when it was time to start locking up and checking on everything we noticed that Lucy collie had not returned to the house after her daily escapade. As it was getting dark we immediately started searching for her but in the end had to give up due to the poor light. The next morning as soon as we were up the search started again but by lunch time when there was still no sign of her we all began to think the worst, that our beautiful Lucy collie would perhaps not be coming home.
Later that afternoon as we were sitting on the back lawn we saw movement along the dirt road. It was Lucy Collie coming home, she was dragging herself along by her front legs as her entire rear end from the waist down had been shattered. Her pelvis and both legs were badly broken and it was obvious to see that the bones were broken in several places. Lucy collie had dragged herself home.
We phoned the vet and on telling him of her accident arranged to meet him at the veterinary hospital which was a fifteen minute drive away. How hard it was to pick up her broken body as gently as we were able and put her into to car. Not once did she cry but she managed to slowly wag her tail as if to say "I'm here Mom, I came home."
After a brief but thorough examination the vet looked up sadly and said to me that the best thing would be euthanasia, as poor Lucy had too many injuries. I thought for a minute and then asked him if there was any chance at all of saving her, his reply was there is always a chance but hers was very slim indeed. I made the decision to try and save my Lucy collie, if she had had the courage and strength to crawl back to me then I needed to do everything in my power to save her life.
Lucy was taken to the animal hospital at Onderstepoort near Pretoria and was operated on the next day. The vets placed seven pins down her right hip and leg and five pins on the left side. Lucy had made it through the operations and the first day of the long road ahead.
She spent three months at Onderstepoort and then another four at the veterinary hospital close to home. I would visit her as often as possible, and once she was closer to home I would go every day to feed her and take her for a tiny walk.
Day by day my Lucy collie got better and it was with such joy that finally we were allowed to take her home with dire warnings to be very careful with her and that although she had survived her accident we would be very lucky if she lived past the age of three, she was just over a year old then.
Lucy collie recovered remarkably and although she walked with a bit of a gait she could run short distances and join in games. In winters one could see that the pins got cold and so she did have some pain, however with keeping her in the house on cold nights and making sure she had bed and blankets she managed.
Birthdays came and went for Lucy collie and as she got older and her muzzle started turning grey so she enjoy sitting quietly with whoever was at home. She wanted and needed the extra company.
When the end came I felt it was as if she quietly lay down and let life slip away from her. I was sitting next to her on the floor and she opened her eyes looked at me and was gone.
Lucy collie was fourteen when she joined the other two Lucys in doggy heaven, another good friend had gone.
We never did find out how she had been injured but presumed she had gone onto the highway that bordered the farm and been hit by a car.

San Francesco d'Assisi - Italy

I may one day have another Lucy dog, she will have be be just as special as the first three to deserve their name.

A Creature of habit, three cars called Annie One, Two and Three and three special dogs called Lucy - Part Two

The next Lucy dog came to me in a rather special way, I had ordered a fox terrier puppy from the local SPCA and when I went to fetch him I happened to walk past the cages of the dogs that were waiting to be adopted. All the dogs stood up and came to greet me as I walked past them, each hoping that they would be the chosen one and I was their new Mommy. As I walked past one of the cages I thought it was empty but a casual glance showed me a Staffordshire terrier sitting at the back with a look on her face that said all hope had gone.
Suffice to say, the puppy was not the dog I took home that day, instead I adopted Lucy Staffie. This Lucy was a gentle, barrel shaped, brindle coloured lady. How she ended up at the SPCA I never did find out and I always felt that something awful had happened to her as she was rather timid and often looked afraid when in an unsure situation. Lucy Staffie fitted in well with the family and when we moved to a small farm in the country she seemed to come into her element.
Lucy became a gift giver of note, often on returning home, I would be presented with a dead bird placed proudly on the back doormat and Lucy sitting their wagging her tail at me and smiling as if to say, "look Mom I caught us lunch." I made a point of thanking her profusely and taking her inside to give her a treat and them disposing of the poor birds body while she was otherwise engaged. On especially lucky for me days there would be a dead snake, some of them small but others a good size, waiting ready for my enjoyment on the door step. On these occasions I sometimes found it a bit difficult to give the usual profound thanks but somehow did always manage to find the right words of gratitude for my faithful friend.
Farm life suited Lucy Staffie and she would love to amble along with us when we went for family walks along the dusty farm roads, she would wonder in and out of the fruit trees always making sure that she was with was within eye shot of her family members.
I would love to go walking alone with her as I found her to be a very good listener who never once even thought of interrupting my flow of thoughts and words, instead she would walk along beside me, almost touching, to let me know that no matter what she was always with me. These moments were very special, we were in our own time and space together, the two of us on a dirt road that was our private world.
We had to make sure that the animals were always dipped for ticks and when Lucy fell ill and was rushed to the veterinary clinic we were surprised to hear that she had tick bite fever. Our lovely lady did not come home with us, she went instead to doggy heaven to be with Lucy bulldog. The year was 1992.

to be continued

A creature of habit, three cars called Annie One, Two and Three, and three special dogs called Lucy - Part one

For some unknown reason when something is important to me it is always given a name, I therefore find myself with an electric mixer/mincer/juicer/whatever, that is named Patsy. This makes complete sense to me as it belonged to my mother and on inheriting it I named it after her. Then there is Jimmy the microwave, named after my father and Gladys the beautiful large serving plate that only comes out for celebrations and was named after a wonderful family friend from childhood days. There is Judith the DVD machine and Judy the canteen of cutlery, both named after one of my sisters.
My treasured computer is named Lovely Lady as, since she was a present from myself to myself, I could not exactly name her after anyone and I did not want to confuse her by giving my name over to her, perhaps I would have been the confused one, better meditate on this for a while.
I have owned three cars in my life and have named them Annie One (red VW Beetle), Annie Two (white Ford Meteor) and Annie Three (green Ford Lazer) still with me. I always felt that if they were to look after me and take me wherever I wanted to go I needed to give them a very gentle name so that they would look after me in a special way. I must admit it does seem to have worked, the three Annies have always been the most reliable of friends and have seen me safely to many different destinations and then home again, often on dark and rather unfriendly potholed roads.
My first Lucy dog was a champagne coloured English bulldog that my father gave me. She was named after a rather famous Lucy, the one from "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe". I chose that name because the Lucy in the book was so very open to believing in things like fauns, and tree people and marshwiggles and such creatures. As a child I had myself believed in them, actually I still do.
This Lucy was like a human child, she loved to play on slides, swings and roundabouts in the local park and was never afraid to chase away anyone she thought was abusing or overusing her playground equipment. She was protective and would follow her younger human sister around the yard to ensure safety at all times.
Lucy bulldog enjoyed car rides and when she saw a car door open always took it as an invitation for a ride, this worked fine with family and friends who would willingly take her for a ride around the block, but it absolutely terrified the two policemen who happened one hot day to stop to buy ice creams from the ice cream van at the precise moment that I had run quickly out of my yard, Lucy en tail to buy my daughter one. Lucy forgot the thought of ice cream and gaily climbed into the police vehicle and made herself comfortable on the back seat. I thought it was cute, the police thought their vehicle had been taken over by some vicious form of alien matter and refused to go near the car. I explained as politely as I possibly could that all my sweet dog needed and wanted was a nice ride around the block in a police car and weren't the officers there to assist the public. The police did not see things our way at all and demanded that I remove Lucy from the back seat forthwith. This was impossible to do as the car was a two door and I did not have the strength to climb in and carry one rather large bulldog lady out of it.
In the end Lucy won and the two fearful members of our protective services gave one sweet innocent bulldog several vitriolic glares, climbed into their car and dutifully drove a now happy dog around the block. On their return they both jumped out, relief showing clearly on their faces as they opened their doors in the hope that the slobbery monster, (their words), would now get out. Lucy was happy to daintily climb off the back seat and out the car, she thanked the police with an angelic, slobbery, drooling smile, (my words), turned around and with a neat wag of the bottom and not waiting for me, returned home. This was a girl who knew what she wanted and went for it.
Lucy bulldog went to doggy heaven thirty years ago, and I always remember her when I see nasturtiums as on hot summery days she would love to lie on the plants and pretend to be a nasturtium flower.

to be continued

Political spades and shovels proverbialised

Would it be unfair of me if I were to suggest that all politicians should be given a grand tour of their local hardware stores. There they would be shown what all gardening implements looked like and be given a full demonstration of all the uses including standing on the wrong end of a rake.
I suppose the thought behind all this is that if our political leaders are led by their noses back to grass root level and then built back up they might, in the end, be capable of really calling a spade a spade and not a you know whatever shovel.
We all know politicians are rather good at wielding the proverbial axe while they point dirty fingers at their opponents in the attempt to curry favour with the local voting constabulary, (yes we are meant to police our politicians and keep track of their track records). We are all a part of the political cog wheel, even if only a small part, and therefore do have the capabilities of sometimes putting a hammer into the works.
Yes I do realise that "too many cooks spoil the broth", but on the other side of the coin "many hands make light work", and since "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush", the most I can suggest to my fellow electorates is that we all keep our minds wide open and remember to judge past behaviours before we concede to believing the promises that are made to us today.

Grateful of my birthplace

I do not really consider myself to be a fussy eater, I do however have a few qualms about certain national dishes and am therefore rather happy that I was born here in Southern Africa and with a rather English upbringing and taste in food.
I often note that it is the Patron Saints day of one country or another and think myself ever so lucky that I do not have to indulge in haggis, or leek and potato pancakes, or some sort of offal that seems so often to be a favoured dish in many other countries. Yes I do understand that I may very well like these delectable delicacies, and I completely admit that it is the thought that counts totally here and nothing else. I must however decline as my mind is a lot stronger than my stomach and when it starts shouting no way then the best thing I can do for myself is keep my mouth tightly closed and head for the nearest exit.
I would have to think very carefully before I would consider living in another country as there are certain food items I dread ever having to stop indulging in. Things like cottage pie, and roast beef or chicken.
Here in Africa I am able to eat the foods I enjoy and easily refuse those I do not, such as biltong, (strips of dried meats), maize meal, porridge and chilli anything.
When I look around at other countries customs and staple foods then perhaps the United States would be the place for me to be. I love turkey, apple pie, pumpkin pie, root beer, biscuits, hot dogs, hamburgers and those huge big sandwiches that would feed a family.
Then I ask myself would it be a good thing to move to another country mainly because of the food that is available, the answer is yes, yes and yes again. I like food, I enjoy sharing food with others and I find food to be a very sociable commodity. We all have to eat so why not eat only that which we enjoy?
The choice as always is our own and I have decided that I do not really have to eat carrots or green beans, rosemary with lamb or anything else that I do not like and that is simply because I think they taste awful.

Devil Woman cake sure beats vegetables and steamed anything any day.