tan ta rah!
i'm back, blogging babies, from out of space. and it's good to be back, like gary glitter sang.
and did you? did you hang my picture on your wall?
i survived the tsunami. just. almost in one piece. flaked out on an empty wind swept beach near an empty town, sort of wrapped around a sturdy piece of driftwood, like sea weed, staring dumbstruck around me. and one white kikoi stained for life with ceasar's purple blood lying carelessly next to me.
i am sitting on the hill contemplating eight weeks of holidays ahead. how glorious is that? it'll be like all the others. fires at night. riding in wintry mornings and lilac twilights. drinking more hot milo than is sensible and thinking thinking thinking until i fall asleep and before i know it, i'll be back at school and the cushions still won't be covered.
having not written for a while, this might take some practice. do not adjust your sets.
you'd think i'd have a stack of things to say. . . as high as the stack of books next to my bed which i intend to read over the hols. delicious.
maybe it's easier to just make a list:
1. we have a goat. a chief from lake natron gave it to safari craig for a present. lake natron is where the wild things are - wild and windswept and remote. the goat is little and white and bleats. a lot. i suspect it isn't used to this cold hill. it comes from desert country. safari craig isn't here, obviously. the safari season is in full tilt. but he did have the sense to send a message on a cleft stick (ok from his sat phone) warning me of its arrival and saying to please not eat it until he gets home in when, september? daughter is appalled at the thought and would've quickly become heidi on the hill in no time. so i have moved it to the otherside of the hill. near nyamuhanga's house. in order to save it from sure death - by wrapping a vuvuzela round its ears. oh that's next item.
2. the vuvuzelas. . . what hideous inventions. i confiscated the yellow one today with more than vague threats of violence to the next sub adult who sounds one on this here hill. anyway. the vuvuzelas can be buried now that bafana bafana are out and ghana. who cares who wins now.
3.) some *(&^%$ tried to clamp the car in town today claiming i had parked it crookedly. there isn't even a line there, for christ's blinking sake. clingy beetle (3rd born and girl) was marvelous. as the arguing on the street became fiercer along with the swelling crowd, with me threatening to phone "my lawyer" and the shop owner hurling abuse in swahili as fast as a black mamba, her lower lip began to wobble and she began to wail. (with no encouragement from me either like at police road blocks and with border crossing bullying tactics.) the gathering crowd for once was on our side. i managed to furrow my brow and look like evita peron on the stand. and squeeze out a few crocodile tears. i furiously stammered at the crooked clamping man "now look what you've done. you've made the child cry!" the hairdresser looked out from her dukka and said "call your lawyer. call your lawyer." the evil clamper eventually relented. either because all his cronies had done a runner and he faced the crowd alone or because he had a heart. i like to think it was the latter.
we headed straight out of town after that, swearing we wouldn't ever go back, bought a teddy bear from mohammed's store near home and had a sobering few cups of coffee.
yes. so i'm back.
this feels weird.
next time i'll write about love and The Vibrator Incident.
toodely old toot y'all, bisous X.X.X. wintry by the fire ones. x j