i feel pressurized to post. everyone else seems so fruitful. except um, miranda. where art thou? i know you're in zambia but it's no excuse. really. it's pathetic.
mr and mrs god from the god diaries? ernest, i see you are preoccupied with more esoteric things like wild mushrooms and fairy circles and things but hell, mr god has realms to run, you know, so hurry up will you....? next posting please. and helllllllooooooo? TPE???...educ edjew oh god? where are you, oh slothful ones?
oooergh. once again. bloggers block.
ho hum. yawn yawn.
hmmm. the rain. been there done that. stretch stretch. scratch. scratch. dangerously umwhimsical. Basic.
the cat got spayed. poor thing. staggering around the house with a bucket thingy around her head to stop her pulling stitches out. in the mean time, crazy wild little kittens bouncing off the walls in all directions. it's wonderfully mad. dropping like butter balls from the stairs...
i have another boil. on my elbow this time. at least not on my eye. like when i was in zanzibar and all the honeymoon couples thought i had been socked by my partner, the one from whom i had obviously run away to the beach, to escape the monster. i read thought bubbles. oh. and they all looked so smug and self righteous, lying on those sun loungers, the bride in her new bikini (one for each day) sipping cocktails and smirking at each other. like they got it so made. so i wished many children upon them. until i conjured up an entire flock of storks, wheeling above the beach as i escaped sniggering to the bar. i think i even slept in the pradas. the sunnies which are of jackoe o roundness and proportion. i adore them they hide my eyes, my wrinkles and half my face. i really looked hideous with the boil in my eye. i think i was even scaring the kids...about the malapas (flip flops ) which they had found in the forest behind our palm banda...so i just casually asked if they knew it was an ancient burial ground?
no mama. its NOT. (says oldest)
it is! ask anyone here...then laughingly added, be careful the dead man's malapas don't follow you, hey...like a dead man's step, piff poff softly behind you down the beach.
i was only joking. my oh my they got into a complete panic. the two youngest crying and imploring the french honeymooners to save them from their mother. they looked fleetingly concerned. for a nanosecond. i almost had to call an armed security company to escort us back along the beach to our banda, the kids were so terrified and wouldn't trust me for a minute that i wouldn't start it again. i really didn't want to confess at that point that i was infinitely more terrified by my own tale and vile imagination, than they were... i have never implored that much ever. ever. good spook idea though. hooah.
a detox is being planned. for next week. i am tired of boils. the blood needs to be cleaned. i shall be drinking parsley tea and eating fresh fruit and vegetables and litres of water. for a week. if anyone else has any other wonderful ideas, for cleaning the blood (excluding a complete transfusion), please comment. deeply appreciated in advance.
only after the horse safari, though, the one to west kili this coming week-end.with carlos and marina and a hoss named santino.
(actually its santiano. so what.)
it looks worryingly stormy over the kilimanjaro region.
nevertheless. on we shall ride regardless. lightening thunder or rain.
i am so excited.
oh yes. how could i forget?
all secondary teachers received a right bollocking from the headmaster this morning. for a full twenty minutes. non stop. he hardly took a breath. have not received a knuckle rapping like that since, ouf, school? a vvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery long time ago. (actually it was more like wet ruler slapping on open hands or on bare back. ow. they were so sore.)
what was it about? the bollocking?
oh. not doing our jobs properly. not going that extra mile. being late. not pitching up for covers. not tightening and straightening ties and blah..of course i was late for the briefing. you could have heard a pin drop when i walked in. ping! everyone stared wide eyed and open mouthed at me. like shocked little owls. so of course, i felt immediately that in fact, the entire tirade was for me. it's this guilt thing i suffer from. even walking through the nothing to declare aisle in airports, i feel and look guilty. standing in supermarket checkout counters...only joking.
do you think everyone felt like me? or was it just me?
anyway. to my hugest relief, apparently it wasn't directed at me. he told me only after i had apologized profusely for being late, for being an impostor, for being me, unthinkingly spilling all my apples. doing the i think she doth protest too much, or however it goes.
but no-one would tell me who it really was for. . . not to press The Big Thing Point Home or anything as childishly pathetic as that....
in a strange way, it was a novel experience. yet vaguely and uncomfortably familiar...normally he is so jolly....?
anyway. socks are pulled wayeeeeeeeeeee up. just in case.
Kitchen Board: Thursday Evening: 13 November 2008.
Contributors: Safari Craig. (alias Morning Coffee In Bed Angel)
Comments: still no cheese. ah well. who CARES?
toodely pip. then. and a basket full of lavender scented bisous to you, you and oh ok, to you too then xxx j