circumnavigation . . .

ta raa.

i'm still here, oh bestest blogging babies. all three of you. is there anyone out there anymore? it's been a while.

it's just that presently things are, well, a little overwhelming. ever so slightly.

i've been north, where the wild things are. where the skies are bigger than anything you can possibly imagine. where the winds scream and tear at your tent. where you sleepily watch the strange stars slide behind the etched silhouettes of gnarly campiphora trees, circumnavigating the sky.

i've been to a circus and eaten popcorn and sodas. i watched, open mouthed, the contortionist who can climb (so help me god) eloquently through a child sized racquet sans strings. and then met him in real life. freak.

i've been ridin'. not the kind i usually partake in, tearing uncontrollably 'cross the plains, skimming over aardvark holes. no. i've been coached by a swedish grand prix dressage champion...on my little spotted hoss. who didn't think much of the whole show, it has to be said. still. he kicks butts. of any kind.

and i've been teaching. of sorts. and am completely overwhelmed by the work load. because i've left it all to the last minute. and by the very act of blogging, am circumnavigating the pressing issues at hand. all about planning ahead. which i've never ever been very good at. completely rubbish, if truth be told. which it shall be, tommorrow morning, when i sit in ms r's office. with my wings unfolded and flyin' high...by the grace of god there go i. where angels fear to tread.

kitchen smitchen board. i don't even know where town is anymore.

so toodely ole toot y'all - bisous X.X.X. circumnavigational ones, if ya catch my drift. x j

elephants in my soup...

(lovely harmless zebra)

half term has arrived just in time...to keep those wolverine dead lines away from my door...i was so looking forward to lazy mornings in bed, lie ins, simply picking my nose and idly gazing at the view and every now and then pretending to work. but oh no. safari craig has returned from um, safari. just like that. pouf. and has plans. Plans. PLANS. so off on safari we must go. oh but MUST we? she whines. look. i'm not complaining or anything like that, you understand oh bestests. god no. but - just a little lie in? a little of not going anywhere? please?

we have recently returned from tarangire. a national park literally up the road. a couple of hours. as i've said before, things are bleak out there. dry dry dry. as general sir anthony hogmanay melchett sighed as he stared at the blank side of a map, "my god it's a dry and desolate wasteland out there..." so did i. en route to tarangire. one good thing about it being so desolate is that game viewing's a piece of old takkie. herds of buffalo, wildebeest, impala, zebra and hundreds of elephant scattered over the silale swamps like hundreds and thousands on a cake and round every blinking bend of the dwindling river. and around each corner of the path leading to your tent. and around the swimming pool. how they weren't in my soup boggles the mind. a simple walk to your tent to collect your cozzie demands extreme caution. you've got to run the goddamn gauntlet. or stay put. as t from fushandchips (http://fushandchips.blogspot.com/) so aptly wrote: "...there's NO ways I'd do that ****, unless I could drill some eye holes in a 44-gallon drum, squat down and scootle around like a ned kelly-armoured dung beetle, protected from all sides and above."

(bloody baby arrogantly hoovering up desert dates whilst blocking path to my tent. enormous mother lurking just to the right of screen in ambush for any unsuspecting wandering fool)

well. my sentiments precisely. completely sensible. unlike the two swedes who foolishly had their photographs taken standing, oh, a few metres from the mama of the above, as i peered cautiously from behind the swimming pool wall holding my breath. (while penelope cruz look a like actually ran to the other side which had me sniggering. even second born, aged ten, thought she was hot. along with every other male in the near vicinity. so shallow.)

what in gods name were those swedes thinking?? at least penelope knows fear. godsakes. someone will be unduly squashed if caution does not prevale. i tell you.

(bloody family of elephant behind kitchen in car park planning next tactical manoevre. have you ever?)

i will confess i fell asleep for perhaps half of our all day drive - mouth unashamedly agog, head lolling side to side, waking every now and then to blindly swipe at and curse "these fucking tsetse flies...", vaguely notice another elephant two inches from the car and then return happily to my head lolling snooze. god. i am itchy.

now. as if that's not enough, the said safari c is now paving the way north. like bloody dr livingstone. to tangle wood and desert drear - the north side of lake natron - which really really is another planet, i kid you not - somewhere near the kenyan border where only the odd shifta walks - where the wind screams and howls like a choir of desert banshees, tearing at your tent and the heat is unspeakably oppressive. that said, i am never one to say no to new roads. i've always taken mr frost's risky advice. and also i don't want to appear whiney and wimpy. it's just not cricket old girl. so. i haven't even unpacked and northwards we shall go the day after tommorrow....donning arabic kanzus, wet kikois and those dashing dust goggles, which again, will be a sure feature. i've already booked a pair.

so. see you 'round like rissoles, oh bestest beloveds, soon. soon.

Kitchen Board: Monday Evening: early october 09

there will be a major packing of supplies tommorrow. must must not forget the coffee or the sugar. that would be a disaster of terrifying magnitude.( terrible things might happen out there if i forget the coffee, she gasps, wide eyed.) oh. and a 44 gallon drum. just in case. pre perforated.

toodely old toot, then y'all, bisous X.X.X wild 'n dusty ones, hooah. x j

red moon sunday

sunday rolls in like a big ole evil watchamacallit.

like the bad penny. that's what my gran said one hot zululand sunday afternoon when my zimbabwean brother in law landed surprisingly at her door, long haired, veld skoen toting and rowdy.

"aha. i see the bad penny's rolled in again..."

maybe that's why some people go to church on sundays because they simply can't bear to face it. well why on earth? especially sunday evenings. the rest is too awful to consider. monday. monday and being sensible. monday and the week-end weight like an albatross. anyway. who is ever ready for monday? maybe god feels like this on saturday evenings...thinking about doing angel register early sunday morning...michael? present. neat black tick. gabrielle? present. neat black tick. lucifer? ah, lucifer? his bus is late sir, mumbles gabrielle, smoothing the feathers on his wings. muttering "goddamit", god marks a perfect red circle. again. hating sundays.

after that little rant, i must confess mine hasn't been too bad. in fact, it's been rudely beautiful. rollicking around on horses all morning after a 12 hour sleep laced with underwater secret lake 'n japanese holy men dreams; lashings of good tanzanian coffee. hearing the first rolls of thunder with the midday sun beating unrelentlessly and directly onto my head whilst i sipped cranberry juice and vodka; whilst i munched on cheese and poppy seeds. (ok and olives and camembert and chilli chutney and more cheese and pickled onions and whatever else was vaguely edible in sight and then asked what was for main course secretly meaning it.) storm clouds made a decent appearance north of the mountain. 'bout bloody time too. where ya bin all this time?? sweet jesus. i watched my friends fight while claire and i spoke in shrill voices about the weather and the children, ducking the peanuts which swiftly followed the "well fuck you!" i watched the full moon rise tonight from behind the crooked branches of the old acacia. a lazy blood red moon, briefly hooked like a balloon in its branches. so fat. so round. so red. so congruently auspicious.

i imagine i smell rain far away. scenting the dust wind ever so slightly.

ever so slightly.

My New Presents Board: Sunday Night: early october 09.

nothing quite like surprise prezzies, eh? and oh such beautiful ones. from beautiful friends. a bag made from old patched up lamu dhow sails (note rope), carefully handstitched. hand painted with LOVE. casually slung over present number 2: a hand sewn little leather jacket which smells like a new car and fits like it could've only been meant for me....oh. oh. oh my. how lucky am i?

toodely, oh bestest beloveds, bisous X.X.X. slow full red moon ones x j.