Before Christmas

Ali loves a bit of….elves

Cheers!

Anja

Waaahaaaay!!!.

What a fantastic combination!…Elves, AND Farts!…can’t get much better than that, as far as I’m concerned!…always have been partial to  an Elf or two,…spent a weekend on an “Elf Farm” once,, although, to be fair, I came away  disappointed, as I failed to encounter a single pointy-eared, supernatural denizen of the woodland rides…I was going to complain, but I’ve seen Lord of the Rings, and happen to know that Elves can be pretty tasty with a bow and arrow, so I thought better of it,…and decided to dabble in a bit of culinary Necromancy, with the cunning notion of bringing long-gone Elves back to life through the medium of baking, employing the essential ingredient of “Elf-Raising Flour”..

These experiments are in their early stages,…so far, plenty of bread,…but all is quiet on the Elf front.

Farts, on the other hand, are life long buddies of mine!..oh Yes!…and I love the peculiar semi-taboo mystique that accompanies them!,..I mean, we ALL fart,…but we just don’t like to talk about it, or admit it…(although that seems somewhat gender related, because us blokes can get a lot of mileage out of a fart conversation)….

My little sister..when younger, could fart to command!. I was properly jealous of this!,..to me, that was just raw talent!….she did used to get a little upset with me, in her teenage years, when I introduced my friends to her, saying..”This is my little Sis, Jenny,…and she can fart!..Go on Jenny!…do one for John!”

Farting in the bath is,…and always will be,…. superb!!!!

With time and practice, one can engineer “bubble dispersal placement”…(or B.D.P), through minor adjustments of the upper thighs, glutaeus maximus, and lower torso…with control, these movements may cause the bubbles to rise beside both left and right outer ( or inner, depending upon the “roll and pitch” of leg) thigh,…or,…for the extremely adept,…send the bubbles upwards..climbing from the lower lumber regions, to travel the length of the spine, then to break the surface and “pop” by both ears….this is High Craft, indeed!

Tonic water induced farts are probably favourite for this art,…Vegetables  ( both root and plant) could put one off for some time,( the same can be said for meat products)…the smell causes the Farter, to instinctively pull themselves from the bath, this can lead to injury via “Soap Skating”

A beginner once asked, “What does it mean when the water turns cloudy?”….my sombre reply was the fact that he had ” Followed Through” and  should take care not to strain too much in future.

So!..Ideal Farting Areas?…well, a Church always comes up trumps,..One can fairly tear them off those Oak seats!..and willalways snap someone out of their prayers.

A Library is also good,..in fact anywhere that is quiet and fairly populated ( Duisburg on a Saturday night , for example)…the Fart connoisseur will always try for a “Silent Hot-One” on these occasions,…( The Church scenario aside, for, as mentioned, the Oak wood adds gravity, volume and timbre, to the fart,…and it would be a pity not to exploit this), as these produce a repugnant scent, that will spread over a fair distance and hang in the lower atmosphere of the said building for some time.

The “Fart-on-the-Move”, always brings a sense of satisfaction, as it rhythmically tumbles from the backdoor in time to the footfalls of the “Fartee”, lending an air of “chant” to the gaseous expulsion. One can almost put lyrics to it.

“Whistlers” are Classic, and all too rare, a serious Farter would do well to recall the pre-wind diet, the genesis of the “poopser” in an effort to emulate and maybe propagate the peculiarities required.

I could wax lyrical about “The Quacker”, “The Sigh” “The Stinger” and “The Tickler”, but alas, time is not on my side , at present.

But NEVER forget the power of  the Fart!…I was in an office today, with two other people, ( both female)…and one of them, “let one go” and the stench was intense!..BUT not wishing to say anything..or attract any attention to the matter, they both soldiered on bravely!!..The room was small,…the smell unbelievable..( it MUST have been a combination of “Sigh and “Stinger”…of exceptional quality!)..and I was just leaving, but they simply carried on, with slightly strained looks upon their faces…eating their sandwiches….Brilliant!!!!

“Bottoms Up!”

Ali

Nighttalk (with Anja and Ali)

Es gibt Tage (und Nächte), die bringen hier immer noch ein wenig Überraschungen mit sich seit Alis Einzug. Die Routine noch nicht vorhanden und manches Mal Streß bringen auch Außergewöhnliches. Das müssen wir wohl noch ein wenig erarbeiten.

Eine äußerst originelle Form hat sich hier an die Oberfläche gedrückt, die ich jetzt mal als “Nighttalk” bezeichnen würde. Ich, die zwar mal im Schlaf um sich schlägt und tritt, aber ansonsten friedlich vor mich hin schlafe und Ali, der einfach nur schläft wie ein Maulwurf, tief und leise.

So war es vor ein paar Wochen, dass wir zurückkamen von einer langen Nacht, wohl ein wenig heiter, aber bald ins Bett fallend, wo sich in später Nacht eine wundersame Konversation auftat:

“Historeeey” rief es da aus der Bettecke

“What?”

“Historeeey! You can’t bore holes in the historeey!” rief es

“History? What history then?”

“The history. You can’t bore holes in the historeey!!” wurde es immer aufgeregter.

“I don’t get a word”

“The historeey lesson! You can’t bore holes in it!” rief es und murmelte sich in den Bart.

Verwirrter Abgang, ein “oh, you better shut up you foolish one” und ein herzliches Lachen am Morgen.

Nicht lange dauerte es wohl, und ich lieferte die Retoure.

Da kam der liebste Bart des Morgens und nach sehr unruhiger Nacht hatte ich nur ein Gefühl, dass ich ebenfalls munter geträumt haben könne.

“Oh yeah, yeah…” sagte es da. “You were quite a bit thrashing around, but then came over, snuggling in, starting to talk to me and saying sharply: Thank you for bringing disease and pestilence…”

“Oh…and i thought i was dreaming of insurances…”

Vielleicht, demnächst, sollten wir uns eine Kamera bereitstellen…

Never boring over here…

Promised!

Anja

Oh Yes!…

Strange Things, are indeed, afoot in the nebulous World of semi dream state!!

Not sure what I was spouting on about at all!…in some way it sounds almost quasi philosophical,…”You cannot bore holes in History”…there IS something in that!..

As for the “Disease and Pestilence”,…sounds like a sort of Biblical ( circa “Exodus”) advert for an Egyptian Insurance company…”Hey!…You with the beard and curious staffy type thing that changes into a snake!…Thanks for the disease and pestilence, and the plagues of creepy-crawlies, and rivers of blood and darkness, and all that,…BUT,…We have it all covered!!!.. with “Sphinx Insurance Services”..we have premiums against jealous and tyrannical Gods, and other such calamitous apocalyptic possibilities,..Why, we can even insure the lady in your life from a “burning bush”…
Whether it be an injury from a rusty Nile…( Sorry!..”Nail”)..or a break-in by Thebes..( Ooops!..Sorry again!…”Thieves”)…we have got it sorted!…and I think you will find our prices more than Fair- Oh!…( See what we did, there?)..
So!, Sandal- Hopper!…do your worst! and keep taking the Tablets!..Waahhhaay!..here at S.I.S, we sphinx…( Pardon me!…we “think”), that all will cool, whatever the Basket-Boy says!

I remember my little sister,..upon being woken by the strange nocturnal wailing of felines, bursting into my room, and yelling,…”There’s a Witch outside!..Wake up, there’s a Witch!!”
My reply was justifiably forthright, I told her not to be silly, and that it was merely cats and not a Witch, and that she should know better, given the fact that she was 27 years old at the time, and asked her what the hell she was doing in my house, as she lived over 15 miles away in a small but quaint 2 up 2 down in Sussex.

Strange thing, the Dark….Hmmmmmmm!!!

One rather intriguing Zen quote came fluttering into reason one day…..it had something to do with sleep-states.
It spoke of the differences between “Light and Hard
“What is the difference between “Light and Hard?”

The answer?

“You cannot sleep with a light on”

Things that make you go, “Christ!..What was THAT?”

Ali

Chasing Bacon

Nicht einmal 8 Wochen ist er hier und schon tut sich das erste Problem auf: Wo bekommt man, was man aus seinem Heimatland gewohnt ist, wenn man beginnt, es zu vermissen? Der nächste Heimflug noch nicht unbedingt abzusehen, und die Süßigkeitenbar zur Genüge getestet, kann es eine kleine Herausforderung sein, auf die Jagd nach Dingen zu gehen, die nahezu alltäglich sind.

Hier: Bacon.

Den Ali langsam aber sicher zu vermissen beginnt.

Haben die kleinen, hauchdünn geschnitten Scheiben, die sofort zu kleinen Kringeln verbrutzeln doch nur wenig zu tun, mit den dicken, vom Stück geschnittenen Scheiben, die er dort gerne in den Backofen legte, und mir so auch das englische Frühstück mehr als schmackhaft machte.

Hier also die Displayware. 5 Scheibchen mit viel Speck, schnell verbrutzelt und nicht wirklich richtig. Offensichtlich.

Ein erster Versuch ging in Richtung Schlachter. Ich bräuchte so etwas wie den englischen Speck, sagte ich, bekam ein paar große Augen von der Verkäuferin, die mir daraufhin eine Rinde Schinkenspeck abpackte, der sich im Versuch bei näherem Schneiden unschneidbar und nach Brutzeln als nahezu ungenießbar gestaltete.

Zurück zur Kaufhausware. Für einen Moment.

Ein kleiner Exkurs in der Deutschen liebste niederländische Einkaufsstadt brachte uns näher ans Ziel. Eine dicke Packung Bacon, irgendwo zwischen dem englischen und dem hier verkauften, aber noch immer nicht so richtig, was der Engländer an sich benötigt, um froh zu sein. Immerhin zu horrendem Preis noch ein Miniglas “Marmite” erjagen können und einige Packungen Cheddar, was ja dann auch schon was ist.

Intermezzo: Zurück aus dem Urlaub, berichtet ein Kollege, bringe er immer eine dicke Kühltasche mit, gepackt mit allem Fleisch, dass man dort benötigt, auf der Fähre nicht wirklich beachtet, und froh für ein paar Wochen, was einen kleinen Schubs auslöst im Gedanken, wo man wann am besten eine solche  Fähre aufsuchen könne, der dann aber an Zeit und Realität schnell wieder in die Reihe zurückhupst, weil es nun mal im Moment nicht geht.

Die Erleuchtung dann am letzten Wochenende im Supermarkt draußen vor der Stadt. “Bacon, English Cut” hieß es da auf der Packung. Form und Farbe so ganz nach Alis Geschmack und so sang er fast vor Jubel. Vom gleichen Hersteller übrigens, welcher den anderen Krempel als Bacon verkauft. Was erstaunlich ist am Ende. Und gut. Natürlich. Aber frech.

Wie wir dann im weiteren Bedarfsfalle auf die nächste Fähre kommen, da grübele ich immer noch drüber!

Bacon and Eggs!!

Anja

Vines

Time draws breath,

Leans, reflects,

Ponders on the quiet work

That has brought the moment forth

To burst, with colour.

Loaded on a slowing pulse,

The climbing vine is falling in

Cascades of rich abandon,

(You and I, we saw it young

Lime sprung and hung to the mercy

Of a low slung Sun,

It’s tenuous genesis in tandem

With our first intrepid touches)

Such is the gilded steeping,

Loosed sensuously

Upon the gradual sleep of leaf,

To the heart and mind,

This time- though brief,

Will always be a testament

To those beautiful beginnings

frightymightyshinygonk

So, here we are, out of the jungle of german bureaucrazy, which right even before relocation of Ali led us to go slightly crazily too, and mind you, we just have to deal with the EU legislation here….

So it happened, that after this circle of “finish-work-before-getting-forms-which-allow-you-to-continue-other-forms-which-are-allowed-after-finishing-work” it’s just a few little things missing, like for example the frighty-mighty-shinygonk, a relict left from times when foreign people needed a “Aufenthaltsgenehmigung” to stay longer than the usual three month, and which, after reading a bit in the forums, was related to a couple of other tricky little ways to go – of which one equaled another. A lovely way to keep people running!

Now, this little form intends to stay in Alis Passport for a while, and is needed to get the allowance to do a language course after EU Rights, for example. Funnily enough. We have been waiting for this a few days but finally got it in…and as Ali became more and more excited about it he simply gave it it’s new name…

A much prettier, easier in spelling and soft-to-the-ear spoken out Beauty…

which has simply replaced that odd little grey sounding paperdescription of the german named official “Freizügigkeitsbescheinigung”

Not too bad, eh??

Frigthymightyshinygende Grüße!

Anja

Looking West

I have recently been to the Rhinepark on the East-Bank,..or rather more passed through its linear neatness to cross the old railway bridge to the West -Bank…

See that “Rhinepark”,..it’s what we, that muck about in the countryside, would refer to as a “Nice Place”…an expanse of madly overtrimmed burnt grass, and a tight-knit group of “lollipop” trees, that are there to show just how much the municipal powers that be, care about the environment….

It’s a universal blight,..and a pitiful reminder of just how far removed we have become from the very roots of Nature,…there is no clover upon the grass….therefore no bees, the trees are to closely planted for them to ever grow full, just to be trimmed year in year out, their roots gleaning nought from the arid earth .

The frustrating thing is, that the nucleus of the idea is a good one!..

Yet the practice is eons away from the promise..Town Planners, just cannot seem to step away from the drawing board, locked in their anodyne World of neat and tidy idealism.

Now maybe I’m getting the whole thing wrong, and that Nature was never high on the agenda, when the Suits first put pen to paper,..but there ARE trees,..there IS an expanse of blatantly overmown grass, devoid of nutrients and cropped so close and obsessively, that the earth beneath is becoming like the concrete, that I imagine that this area is designed to contrast with…

Here’s the “Twisty Turny Bit”, though,…for as long as places like this exist, they will keep the “dudes” away from the REAL treasure of the West-Bank!..Maybe the Suits were master psychologists after all!..perhaps I’m not giving them enough kudos!..who knows?…but just in case their creatively starved minds WERE convinced that they were “naturalising” an area…all they had to do was take a look at the other side of the River to see how it REALLY goes down!

I’m an exceptionally ordinary human being,..in fact I’m probably a little too ordinary tilting towards the boring side of the social spectrum, I like football ( Liverpool FC , of course!), Music, Reading, Walking, Cycling, I write a bit of Poetry now and again, and I also happen to like Birdwatching..( this is where some people say something amazingly witty and original, like..”Oh Yeah?..what SORT of Birds, eh?..”……never heard THAT one before)…sounds pretty sad perhaps!..

To anyone who has never seen a Peregrine strike at a Pigeon, ( The Peregrine climbs, then dives from out of the Sun, reaching speeds of circa 190 miles an hour,…such timing and trajectory, the imperative for the kill…at the last moment the Peregrine brings its rear talon forward…and smashes into the Pigeon…I have even heard the impact….the spectacle is both amazing and shocking at the same time)…to a person who has never witnessed, the flocks of Wild Geese crossing the startled face of  a full Autumn Moon…or a pair of Crag Martins ( like our House Martins) defend their nest against the black mass of a curious Raven,…AND send the Raven packing…Birdwatching must seem the realm of the impossibly dull.

To me, it opens both the eyes and mind,…AND it’s a real challenge too!

I have been at a Paper Mill at dawn in the S.E of England, a place that was really no beauty spot, steam and paper-mulch fumes belched their fetid airs into the crispness of an early Spring day,..but this was soon forgotten as the voices of a dozen or so nearby Nightingales sang their hearts out to the ascending Sun.

They were there, simply because they could be!..although the area was , as mentioned, not the easiest on the eye,..it was, however , left to its natural device,…there were insects aplenty and the life-cycle of all were allowed to continue, relatively unhindered.

A lesson to be learnt, is that, There is NO such thing as, WASTELAND….there is only HABITAT!!!

Now, Habitat itself CAN, be improved upon if managed sympathetically, acknowledging the complexities and intricacies of natural life..and ultimately managed with respect,..look at the local flora to give an indication of what will grow in which soil type,..it really can be relatively simple things that make a difference…a lake for example, give it a gradual slope to the water,..this lets wading birds trawl the muddy margins, and allows other wildlife  easier accessibility.

Take those trees in the Rhinepark,..they are desperately trying to put roots down in rock-hard terrain, …the way of a tree is a brilliant thing,..it takes from the soil, then gives back to the soil, and what is more removes all the shit from the air that we don’t like!…fantastic!…but the leaves that drop need a bit of moisture, and a few earthworms, to exacerbate that cycle..earthworms and other invertebrates, of course, as well as aerating the soil, are that vital link in the food chain…and so it goes!

If you are ever at the Rhinepark…try looking West!…there is treasure out there!..YOUR  Natural Heritage!..embrace it while you still can,…because someday soon, the Suits will be sharpening their pencils, and peering across the water….
And, as for the birds?…well, even the most common of species,…let us say the “Starling” can be as cool as f%*k!!

Off to take my Anja through the Autumn!

Frau mit Bart (running in circles)

Dieser Text mal wieder in Deutsch. Anders krieg ich es nicht zusammen und das Vokabular in diesem Fall ist begrenzt. So hoffe ich, dass ich wenigstens Ali alles übersetzen kann. Aber wer hier hereinschaut, wird das Wesentliche sicher erfassen…

Die deutsche, oder vielmehr europäische Bürokratie in einigen Dingen ist schon eine tolle Sache. Zumindest wenn es um Umzüge geht.

Das Wesentliche: Offiziell darfst Du dich nicht in einer Stadt melden, wenn Du noch nicht wirklich umgezogen bist. Umziehen kannst Du als Otto-Normal-Mensch natürlich nicht vor Arbeitsbeendigung. Die Meldebescheinigung brauchst Du aber, um Dich vor Ort als mindestens arbeitssuchend zu melden. Das wiederum möchte die letzten Bezüge sehen, die man mittels E 301-Formular eingeben kann, um eventuell Ansprüche mitzuziehen (hurra Europa, immerhin etwas!)…

E 301 gibt es nach Arbeitsbeendigung.

Und vor dem offiziell keine Umzugsmeldung.

Alles klar?

Egal….

Generell war die Agentur bis jetzt noch nicht soo schlimm, wie sonst erzählt. Aber das war erst der Einstieg nicht? Natürlich.

Die Aufnahme für die Weiterleitung? Hmmm…folgt strengen formalen Regeln. Eine Beratung ein englischer Sprache könne ich z. B. nicht erwarten, kam es von dem Mädel, welches die Personalien aufnahm. Eigentlich fragte ich nur, ob einer der Berater im Notfall auch englisch spreche. Das übrigens sind wir schon gewohnt, auch sonst, dass die Leute am liebsten den Hörer fallen lassen, wenn sich huch…! Ein Engländer meldet!!!!

Liebes Bildungsministerium! Eure sechs Jahre Schulenglisch sind offenbar für’n Arsch. Hier will keiner, kann keiner, und mag keiner in Englisch….so what? Vielleicht einfach fallen lassen die sprachliche Schinderei?

(Nur mal so.)

Dafür wurde der liebe Ali mal schnell zu “Frau Ali” und sein Zweitname zum Nachnamen funktioniert. Und das alles aus dem Passport. Europäisch versteht sich.

Kurzes Stutzen. Ein freundlicher Hinweis auf die Fehlleitung und der noch etwas unbeholfene Einwurf Alis: “Ich bin ein Frau mit Bart” mit einem Blick quittiert, der uns wohl besser unter die Tische rutschen lassen sollte. Wäre das Dingelchen nicht noch etwas jung gewesen….hmmmm…

Ansonsten alles prima, liebe Agentur für Arbeit! Ihr seid unflexibel, bürokratisch und fremdenfeindlich. Europäische Gesetze sind vorhanden, aber ungern gesehen. Kann ich mir vorstellen, Ihr Lieben. Bewegen tut auch was weh. Fällt ja angesichts unserer “Kundennummer” auch in den Bereich “Kundenfreundlichkeit”. Hach, und da spreche mal einer von Servicewüste….

Aber: macht Euch nix draus. Man kann ja immer noch besser werden. Und man lernt nie aus. So wie wir.

Glück sei Dank haben wir alles in die Reihenfolge bekommen, unter der man geringstmögliche Schikane erwarten kann.

Vielleicht.

Immerhin: Ali hat noch drei Wochen Arbeit in England und ist ansonsten offiziell Duisburger! Wenn das mal nicht ein Anfang ist. Ich freu mich!

Can’t wait for having you here! Anja

tasting summer (is not too bad)

“Naaa….Plumpudding….” he said with that sort of slightly terrified voice trying to put up an example for the bad reputation of the classical english kitchen, and i still have it in mind, the voice of my father when i was perhaps around twelve, listening to his stories.

To be fair, i don’t really know if ever he really had some of the english dishes, i rather guess it might have been just some matter of style just to pretend as if. Being around just a bit and of course finding a lot of “cooking culture” influences in Germany i find, that every nation has got something nice to give.

Like this i was quite a bit amused to find Ali getting all excited about the fact of having some “summer pudding” in these late days of summer, searching for recipes in the net, pushed by the fact of having some blackberries from around the rhineside and always open to give it a try…

What can i say? A bit of work but not too much, the right ingredients, freshly put together, a bit of time and love, of course, made up a nice little dish (the trial version though…haha..) which with some whipped cream gave us a bit of a taste of summer:

tasty stuff in summer times, 1st try

So, next time, whenever talking to my dad again i might well give him some warm words about dishes from other countries…and perhaps a little piece of summer pudding, too.

(Recipe found: here)

Cheers! Anja

My Love!

THAT was fine!
And more to the point, the whole venture was a wonderful return to an “older” way!

The tasting of that Summer Pudding was made all the sweeter for knowing its genesis!..The time spent gathering the fruit , down by the water, on a perfect Summer’s evening, where the the corona of a spent Sun, left its last in the water-meadows, the river bank, the high arc of a sepia sky..even the usually strident and stark monoliths of industry that dominate the Eastern bank, were tamed, their glazed facades rippled back the bowing gild..their reflections resigned to a soft edged submission, honed by the Seaward flow of the Rhine,

There was no breeze to mention, just a serene stillness..Hot Air Balloon pilots ply their trade well, on such evenings, indeed their crepuscular activity depends on such conditions..several bobbed along silently,..rising and falling, chasing Sunsets somewhere, far down river, like cartoon expressions of drowsy, pleasant thought..

On the chamomile fringed margins of a water filled scrape, a Common Sandpiper sought sustenance within the soft cloying ooze..having gleaned its fill, it flicked away over the placid pool, piping its sprightly ululation, to be lost from sight against the backdrop of shingle, its camouflage such, that one would be oblivious to the little bird’s presence were it not for that fluting call…

In a few weeks time, Our Sandpiper will have swapped industry and economy, for Wildebeest and Savannah..what purpose drives that tiny heart to the fury of flight?..Natural law branded deep with in the cellular structure, as if it flies to honour its evolution, lest the idle wing would have its form regress to the earth-bound sluggishness of the Dinosaurs it’s kind fled from,..it pipes and flicks, for the tricks of Archeopteryx, The Great Escapologist!..fly while you can, Little One!…over land over waves…flee the shadow that grows in the mind with every passing pulse…fly until the shadow consumes you..until you return to the Earth..and can fly no more….
The Berries we picked were the bulbous and bursting sweet sculptures of the Story of Seasons,..formed in the frosts..flowered in Spring, hardened and ripened through Sunshine and Shower!..offered amid challenge of thorn-stab and wasp sting..to reach their bushes, we cycled..we picked and tasted their plump august vintage, ..our fingers wine-stained and sticky!..bottles and pots were filled,….light ebbed still further, as Cicadas strummed for the waking of the Moon..we returned, laden, gifted,contented,….and smiling…

A more beautiful evening, one could not wish for….both company and purpose were priceless…

thankyou…

Next stop “Blackberry and Apple, Cinnamon-Topped Crumble!”…( Christ!, Yes!)

“Ich bin ein Frau mit bart”…its official!…( I hope I have got this right!)

Peace, Love and Elderberry Juice!

Ali

Swine Flu and Pigs

I am, currently in quarantine, courtesy of “Swine Flu”..

It is an idle nether-world of dragging minutes and colossal hours, a strange enforced limbo, due to the hype and panic surrounding this virus..which,..if we are honest,..is just the “Flu”..but given Ribbons and Bows!..but , of course, if it is to “go BACK in to pigs and mutate”..then we are in REAL trouble,…surely the answer to this is simple,..

“Stop hanging around with Piggies!”..leave the those little pink snorters to do their thing!..they just want to grunt around and squeal a bit, and find the odd truffle or two, and produce cute little piglets!..we don’t NEED to be socialising with them, ..taking them out for drinks,…bringing them home for a night of wild passion, surely!!…just leave them be,..and we will all be better soon,..both Human AND Piggy-Kind!..

My lovely Anja, has been very supportive, always so cheery, and always so kind..always leaving me smiling away after a conversation!,..Iam truly blessed with this!..Thank-you so much!!!!

Perhaps it was the fevered state that first flared the thought, I am not sure, but I was given to ponder on the possibility of there being some metaphorical Porcine behavioural traits, to those that have met this virus..I have experienced nothing physical..no curly tail has suddenly sprouted from my posterior..nor have I developed trotters….( but I am boiling some potatoes , at the moment and am having to suppress an urge to sling them into a particularly muddy patch on the lawn, and go in after them on all fours…hmmm!),..However, I believe that in SOME sufferers, there is certainly a more…how shall I put this…”descriptive” element to their behaviour, pertaining to swine…

On Saturday night, my neighbour came home…steaming drunk…I mean, “Ripped”, “Wankered”,.”Totalled”, “Stocious”….name it what you will, he was inebriated beyond all recognition,..in fact the acronym FUBAR, wraps it neatly in paper and pops it under the tree!..

He asked me how I was..( I think!)…”Haaas yoooooo biooooryt …aday?”….( Have I been alright today?)…

“Eeeem….compleeshly ppp–issssssttt..My..grrrfreeeen …essss a…cok!….an m…gon t bare…”
( I have partaken of too much ale, the Lady in my life is not all that agreeable to me, and for this I shall seek my rest)

“Ok..! Have a Good One”..I replied, hoping that I could hide my disappointment well, at not being able to continue this intellectual badinage.

And off he swayed up to his pit….

All was quiet for a moment,…then I heard a window open..and what sounded like a bucket of water , splashed down on the bush, just outside my window…

Yep!…He had thrown open the window,..and vomited onto the Laurel…obviously the wastepaper bin would not do for a sick-bucket, because that was full,..how to remedy that?…simple!..empty that out of the window too!..and just for good measure..another copious amount of vomit onto the already sick and rubbish laden bush beyond the glass!…hoorraa!…

He’s got Swine Flu too…and he is obviously a Pig, so there could be something in that thought process..

Anja?..You and I ?..How about a dose of “Bear Flu”..just go out a bit, gather some nuts and berries, then have a bit of a stretch and a yawn, then curl up in a little ball,..and have some sleeps….

Love that!
Luv,n Spuds!

Ali

Ali? You are so right on this. And especially your neighbours should be examined entirely on this, as…as far as I’m concerned…they seem to be much more infected by this sort of illness than anyone else around. Worth a second view..haha…

From our point, i am pretty happy that in the end it did not turn out any spooky thing as is told in the media over here and slowly but surely i get a feeling of being terribly brought on wrong pathways on this. Regarding the news, one should be affected by this in a way, the modern sort of zombie film genre brings to us. “You are bitten, you start screwing eyes and behave wildly against anyone around to infect them too, until we all are a bunch of non-thinking personas starting to take-over the world…

Well…apparently…who then are the real zombies? It’s just a flu in the end and was already over when you arrived here. So, mind you if WE are about to get it.

You never know.

It could have modified.

We could start vomitting out of the windows. For example.

From the 2nd floor…

down the street…

(whooo…!)

Always look at the bright side of life!!

Peace!! Anja

Yes we can!! (do the 3)

Little sidestep in history and a bit of a personal entry. Last weekend has been the bye-bye trip to UK for a little while, as big changes are supposed to happen.

As so very often, tension breaks in jokes and jests on our way back to Gatwick which this time included the invention of “the sign of 3″, a dark and sinister thing which just takes place for this week, the second of July, and just for a few nights of the year of 2009, and then shall be reduced (imagine a dark voice here!!).

Actually…we had a tiny bit of fun with it

(nice we are)

(as long as we choose to be)

(bit of Yoda-speech implemented?)

(in the end: all fine!)

So time went by, a little bit of tears suppressed, and for those to know about the sign of the 3: two of us doing it, means six. Six weeks to go until Ali comes here to stay…

Could get no nicer reason, no? no!

Love ‘n Peace!!! Anja

My Dearest One!

I truly cannot wait to be over,…those Airport partings, are bloody awful moments to endure!

That moment when our hands slip from each-others grip,..that last kiss, that last intake of your sweet aroma before the queue, ushers you on, that last look into your eyes…that silent prayer for your safe passage,..my clenched teeth, and slow swallow, as I try to suppress that misting of vision..

You turn for the last time, wave, we have those smiles that try to project that laughter we shared an hour before, but our eyes tell a better truth, we mouth the words ” I love you”..blow a kiss….and then you are gone…

It is such a “Soul Drop” moment!, as if time has stolen the vital part of essence, I cannot do anything, but look downwards at the neon gilded floor.

Then with a deep breath, and a gathering of some strange reserve of purpose, I head for the platform, and wait for the train,..the journey back is one of quiet contemplation, peppered with smiles as incidents and moments replay in mind, as I gaze across the blurring miles..

Upon opening my door,..knowing that, only hours ago, we were together, and seeing the cups that we drank from, placed side by side as some memorial to our last morning,.. Well!…those “Ol’ Airport Blues” strum their melancholy chords across the heart-strings , once more.

I am sure that those who have known the same long pathways will understand!!

Looking forward to next week!!!.

( sign of “5″!!..Oh YES!)

Luv, ‘n’Smiles!…( and big respect to ANYONE who works in a “Meat Factory” and is seeking further employment from another source, and writes upon the pending application , ” I am good in the sausage department”)

Ali!!

Oh YOU! I know full well what you mean with that last sentence. And yes, it really IS a bit mean suggesting this to an applicant who doesn’t have a clue… shame on you, Alistair!!

Nevertheless…good laugh!

Beards for President! Anja