Hi there Dad, Ma-Millie and Kids! (little dogs named Delilah and Samson)
It’s been a huge while since I’ve written, but there’s not a day goes by when I don’t think of you.(this is true)
To prove it, James and I are investigating the possibility of going sailing with a couple from Durban with the idea that when they sail to the Mediterranean we hop off as close to Atlanta as possible and come and visit you!! That would mean BOTH James and I could maybe pop in!! We are meeting with the couple at the end of the month to see what they are like and for them to see if they like us and then we will take it from there. I’m working on him to not pour all his money into a boat until we have tried sailing for a while. With the weather changes it would seem the sea has become noticeably rougher. Even Sir Branson’s attempt to break some or other record by crossing the Atlantic came to grief because of a freak giant wave. And there are more and more of these stories that are just making me a bit nervous!
Now I remember saying I would also like to describe the beginnings of my day to you – and today seems a perfect day for it as it is a Saturday, and I love the feeling of a Saturday, even though it is a Saturday on the mountain which is distinctly different to a Saturday, say in a city or town – with one exception – on opening my eyes I know it’s a day off from the usual grind.
This morning dawned overcast and cool. I’m alone at the moment as James is away on work. I opened my eyes, looking straight into a pair of intense, owlish, green eyes. Tattoo, my little black cat was sitting hunched up in front of me, willing me to wake up. She is very gentle that way. I had another cat who would dig her nails into my nostrils and not so gently tug until I begged for mercy and got up and fed her. Still, the silent treatment works as I become distinctly aware of a psychic hole been drilled into my skull.

Look at those skull drilling intense peepers!
I rolled over to have a look at Tammy lying on her pillow, on the ground next to my side of the bed. She has a black blanket with pink hearts on it which she snuggles into. She was looking happier and well rested, so the course of antibiotics are working and this proved the case as she later joined me while I was making some Chikree (coffee substitute) and begged a treat off me. She has had infected gums for the last week (a common complaint for Spanials due to a design error in their jaws) and after exhausting my home remedy arsenal I’ve resorted to using allopathic. She’s getting on now – 11 years – and don’t see why she should spend one minute more in pain than is necessary.

"So is it treat time already?"
So that’s what I did – I mooched bare foot into the kitchen with Tattoo darting ahead of me – she is also getting on, although 12 years is not so old for a cat – jumping with a familiar thump sound onto the feeding table. She had cause to complain as all the food bowls were empty! Pooklie, the littlest and youngest member of the family, uncurled herself from her nest on the kitchen counter, where she is NOT supposed to be sleeping, and jumped down with her characteristically “hurmpfffff”. I swear that’s the closest I can get to a literary imitation of the sound this dragon kitty of mine makes. Okay – musically the end part of the sound goes up and is a sweet, whistley sound. It is an arresting sound and always works at arresting my stride as I stop and stoop down to give her a love. She is a white cat who mostly looks like a black cat – and if you think that’s a riddle it really isn’t! She is covered mostly by black looking fur – except for darling little white socks and cute patches on her nose and chin – but when you part her fur there’s an inch of white fur next to her skin. Gettit?? She is a white cat parading as a black cat, which really is clever and something I wish I could do living in Africa. It is also clever for another reason as I would never have dreamt of being enslaved by a white cat (here I am making a huge assumption that I would have had a say in the matter!) as they are sooooo full of nonsense, tending to have skin problems and allergies. Well, guess what – she does! That’s why I don’t reprimand her for sleeping where ever she is comfortable as it is just so hard for her to find a spot to rest that agrees with her. Most materials, like blankets – of any kind – seem to cause her skin to twitch and shudder, resulting in a massive leap in the air and a scolding look at me as if I had something to do with it. And I might add – in case you were thinking it - we do not have fleas in our house. So mostly she curls up on little stacks of paper and straw mats that I put together for her. She has discovered that the grass place mats stacked on the kitchen counter are comfy AND forbidden, so was there ever going to be a choice here!?

"I'm just not amused okay!"
Kettle on and filled with yummy filtered water from our reverse osmosis filter that James so cleverly installed a couple of months back. This is really a life saver as the quality of our municipal water has become barely drinkable due to mismanagement. While the kettle boils I’m gainfully employed by my slave masters in doling out treats and breakfast. Pooklie was more interested in another love than breakfast – a cat after my own heart – and with another “hurmpffff” launched herself off the feeding table and invited me to do some bend downs, sort of like yoga postures that cats encourage their slaves to do, that entails them painfully stretching from the hips down and stroking these little bodies that keep moving just beyond reach. It’s is very good for getting the blood to the brain and toning the bum muscles so as always I am happy to acquiesce(I spelt that hoping against hope that the spell check would NOT go on, but of course it did!)(actually on the “sc” combo at the end of the word that I didn’t get – so not such an idiot after all!).
The kettle got to the right level of hissing desperation – it doesn’t switch itself off, so I have to stand close by to flip the switch to put it out of it’s misery. Anyone dithering over flipping the switch of a life support system?? You know who to call – I do it at least 5 times a day. Chikree is a coffee substitute made from mostly chicory and I drink it with creamer as I can not tolerate caffeine rushes nor can I tolerate milk. Can you see why I attracted a cat like Pooklie? She knew I would be understanding and sympathetic.Even our gardener has all kinds of food allergies – what the heck is going on when a young, strapping Xhosa man can’t eat wheat without turning pale and sweaty!!?? Having procured a mug (has to be MY mug – the one I bought from our local pottery called Starways) full of this doubtful brew, I head gleefully for bed, smartly side stepping Pooklie who is angling for me to do some more bend downs – and that’s when the thought of cuddling up in bed with my mug of Chikree next to me and the laptop on my lap (where else?) to write you this email occurs to me and no sooner had I grasped the inspiration than the deed is done, the mug empty and I hope you’ll enjoy the sharing!!

My mug next to a lovely, thought provoking, beautifully illustrated book by Andrew Hofmeyer
What to do with the rest of the day??? Well it is still seems like bed is a good place to stay with the weather looking determinedly winterish – and I have downloaded a number of free e-books which I am keen to sift through for the nuggets of goodness they will hopefully have to offer – and surprise me they often do. Then there is the thought of James’ arrival home from East London later this afternoon, which means a quick straighten up around the house and a supper to prepare (it means more than just this of course – I do have a nice warm feeling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of him being home again), but that is still some time away. I think the bed has won this round
– that is until one of my pals phones and twists my arm to come out for coffee and cake – they never give up up, Bless them – and then no doubt the baboons will see my car leave (I can hear the sentinel shouting the odds as I write) and make a bee-line (okay – a very BIG bee-line) for the chestnut tree growing next to the house and……. I hate the mess they make of the tree – and I guess I’m prepared really for the day to have it’s way with me. Ce’la vive (okay I flunked French and the spellcheck checked out on this one offering “Flame’s” hopefully as a correction – huh???) – I know, you know what I mean
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Lotttttttttttssssssssaaaaaaaa LOVE
Your daughter
Wotsername?

See if you can tell who is who from the above post!
The photo of the Alsatian in the top right hand corner is of Jonathan who has slipped the bonds of the Matrix, but who will always be a part of any family photo.