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.

February, the month of love?

For the entire month of February I seem to have been embroiled in other peoples arguments and problems. I have never really minded being involved in things if I have been able to see some form of achievement or positivity at the end of the road. Somehow or other, blame it on the stars or the weather if you like, I find myself in the position of not seeing anything good or positive coming out of any of this verbal tub-thumping, and I am inclined to think that quite often these days peoples egos are of a far greater size than their brains.
I am finding more and more that folk are not listening to what is being said to them, instead they are busy thinking of what they will say next and so these half-hearted conversations seem to swing back and forth like some awful game of tennis that none of the spectators are enjoying and that each time the tennis ball is struck the face on the ball is that of the players opponent.
So as I vent off my frustrated feelings about life and people in general I must also add that speaking for myself, and me being the only person I can truly speak for, that my life as always is so good. I am busy working on something that is like a dream coming true and I am learning that I am my own master and that in fact I am only a servant unto myself, being that as I do things for me I am honouring myself in some way or other.
Then I have always believed that I am lucky in so many ways and that the Universe has blessed me.

What I do not like about football.

I never enjoy watching football games, I find the combination of players, coach's and managers quite disgusting. I do not have to watch grown men, supposedly respected, sitting on the side line or whatever they call it, chewing their gum like dairy cows out on a picnic for the day. Have they ever watched themselves in replays? Personally I request visitors to my home to put their gum in the bin on arrival, and then try to make a mental note not to ask them back.
Then there is all the jumping about and hugging each other, or the jumping about and swearing, (yes, I can lip read), when things are going well or not. Are these esteemed coach's and managers unable to express themselves in a verbal manner unless it is with the expletive? If so then what is their purpose in the coaching and managing of their team? I have to ask how does communication take place in the dressing room!
What about the players then, do they have to run around the field spewing phlegm in every direction for other players to pick up in which ever way possible, i.e. whatever part of their anatomy lands on the playing field. Did their parents never teach them that it is not nice to spit in public?
Is it also necessary for them to hold tightly onto their private parts when free kicks are allowed? Or, is this them trying to show the crowd their maleness in a not so discrete manner. Here my thoughts tend towards thinking that they believe they are lacking in this field and therefore their egos insist that there is some form of a joint and group show of the masculine.
Is this a man/football thing or do other sports men and women do it as well? As far as I can remember I cannot recall seeing any of these peculiar behavioural patterns when watching cricket or tennis or other sports.
I must also admit to the fact that sport has become so political I am seriously thinking of watching parliamentary debates instead as they seem to be a bit more of what sport aught to be about.

Window into my mind

Is my mind in a permanent state of poverty consciousness that it feels the need to hoard forever by drinking and eating (metaphorically) anything, that in any way, might be of interest or value in my future. Is this one enormous ego that feels it can and will hold onto any snippet of information, any new words or thoughts that may blow in through the window at any given time.


Why is my mind like some hungry Minotaur ploughing fitfully through the underground mazes of lost conscious thoughts that may somehow have survived the ages and now lie quietly waiting to be gobbled up and consumed in entirety.
What is this yearning that makes me feel empty and undernourished in my mind, so I get feelings of unworthiness if in some way I am not making an effort to improve how my brain is functioning? Why do I have such a blatant passion for dictionaries that I cannot go without having them near me, like a comforting blanket that seals in my sanity. I love their scent, their feel and most of all their contents and all that they hand over to me with each page that is turned.
I love looking for new words and reading and thinking about their meaning and as each one becomes clear to me so it becomes like a new friend, someone to hold close and to allow through my window and into the portals of my mind. A friend that for a while I do not want to share with anyone else, lest they should spoil this new relationship, poison my mind and forever break this bond that I have formed.
It is with words, spoken, read or sung, that I am able to loose consciousness of all physical feelings and so become one with words, one with the moment, and yet knowing that this moment is with me for eternity. Once found I cannot loose a word, or it's meaning, for they are kept safe in the archives of my mental beingness, they are one with me.
Should I have the desire to share "my" words with others the sharing is of that moment, but the words will always be mine. Admittedly we are all able to use any words that we want to, yet how each of us uses those words makes each word very different, by thought, pen or utterance we make words our own.
I hope that as time takes it's toll on the physical and the bells of old age grow louder that my mental faculties will stay tuned and the window ever open to allow new words to flutter in and rest peacefully in the corridors of my mind.

Another World

I have had such a glorious time with the planning and preparation of the Squirrel party, the enthusiasm from friends and family alike has been wonderful. We were all so excited as the party date got closer and with guests arriving from far and wide we were sure to have a great time.
Fruit had been preserved, baking aplenty done and the house seemed full of nuts and squirrel treats.
Hearts and souls were given to the occasion and each one of us looked forward to be able to, for a few short moments in time, forget the adult world and return to the land of talking animals and laughing children. The land of just being, the land where nothing ever goes wrong, the land where true fairy tales are made.
It was wonderful to see everyone relaxing enough to be able to laugh heartily at any witty joke or childhood memory of what was once very funny. Time and motion became as nothing as all were wrapped up in the pleasure of the now moment.
To me it was a wonderful party and I was glad of all those present on seen and unseen levels. Glad there were animals present, grateful for the twittering of birds, for the noise of the frogs calling and the gentle flapping of insect wings as they flew over our heads to view the treats stacked on the table.
Mostly, I was grateful to my as yet unknown squirrel friends for allowing me to hold a party in their honour, it was the squirrels that made the evening memorable as somehow their unseen spirits seemed to creep into ours and for a few short and precious moments we too were squirrels.

A Squirrel found

Packed away safely in tissue paper at the top of my cupboard I found my little friend.
I bought him in Venice and have kept him there with my other treasures until I can find the right place to show them off.
I think I will give him centre stage at the party.

Squirrel Appreciation Day

(Reserved for pictures of my squirrel friends)

I am a bunny/tree/anything that moves hugger, and so with great glee on finding out about "Squirrel Appreciation Day" on the 21st January, I have decided to hold a party in their honour. I would like to officially invite any local squirrels, but hate to admit that I do not have the pleasure of being an acquaintance of any squirrels here, or anywhere else for that matter. Something I will have to spend a lot of time sorting out this year, one never knows when one needs to borrow a cup of nuts from a friend or neighbour.


Never to worry, somehow I will manage to host a great party without the Guests of Honour. I have decided to have an afternoon tea party, served outside under our thatched entertainment area. The table settings will be white with small arrangements of colourful seasonal flowers.


I am limiting the human factor to 8, and would prefer the guests to be under 15 or over 80. Although I am not in those age brackets, I find so many people from 16 to 79 have lost that magical touch with animals and the mystical world of childish imaginations, they just do not understand!


So as not to offend any guests the entire menu will be vegetarian with emphasis on nuts, seeds and fruit. All spare time at the moment is being taken up with recipe hunting, the search is on for exotic, yet healthy, raw and cooked dishes that will delight the discerning palates of any squirrels that do manage to attend.

I shall definitely ask the grandchildren, I feel that with my good influence they will continue to choose to believe in whatever they want to, and for them at least the world will be a very interesting place. Obviously there will be a request for their parents to attend the jolly function with them. Invitations will also be sent to two card playing, fun loving, out of control friends. Should things get a bit slow, and the conversation lag at times, we could always play UNO or throw nuts at each other.
I will have to think very hard about the other human guests, not everyone mixes well with and talks to animals like we do.

Continuation - Father Christmas.

Kiger's apology

Dear Father Christmas,
I am very sorry I was such a naughty cat, I did not mean to be. I love you very much and will try to be a good boy from now on.
Love Kiger.