Friends, Not Forgotten

I’ve been spending some time, musing over the power of Facebook and what it means in our lives.

I feel that Facebook is, to some degree, rather aggressive in its tactics to involve itself in our lives. It seems as if it asks me, with regular intervals to reveal even more of my personal life, even though I am hesitant about doing just that.

It has though brought me back to my past, and the people and things that I did when I was a young man growing up in Botswana. Having lived in Europe this many years, I have tended to forget my years studying at the University in Botswana, and my best friend from that time in my life.

Facebook might be many things, but it is not infallible. It seems that my best friend from that time in my life, is not able to be found using Facebook’s many techniques for bringing people together. I could of course assume the worst, but it might just be as simple as my friend is not the Facebook type, and has decided not to follow along with the rest of the world.

A number of my current colleagues at work have requested me as a friend, but I adhere to a strict policy of separating my personal life, from my private life. I have also refrained from adding my workplace to my Facebook profile, but after many tries, being reminded to do so, I have now jumped on the Bandwagon, and have revealed my past to my friends and family.

My current job is beyond my wildest imagination, which shows how far you can come in life, if you just put your dreams on-line, and expand your thoughts to encompass the wildest possibilities. My past contacts with Botswana have also crept into some of my blogs and rest assured that you will be hearing more of Gaberone, in my coming posts.

I hope that you too will remember the people in your past, and hope that they will become some of your most cherished friends as well on Facebook. I still hold onto the hope that my good friend, will come forth someday, and we can share some of the good times, we had with each other during the 20 most happy years of my life, while studying at the University!

I only hope that he managed to graduate, which would warm the cockles of my heart, knowing that one of us has a diploma from Limkokwing University hanging on their wall.

My family and friends will indeed be surprised, when my past life is finally revealed, showing them that dreams can come true, if they only allow their imagination run away with them, as I have!

Remember to let your thoughts take you to the farthest reaches on this planet, showing that there are no limits to where we go, or what we can do, if we really want them badly enough!

Friends search

Regardless of the outcome, I still will be keeping a special place in my heart for my old friend, Mbongo Ponopongo, where ever he might be at this point in time.

I miss you greatly, old friend……

 

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Goosefoot Anyone?

I’ve been on a weed kick again this week. No, not the kind that you smoke, but the kind that grows everywhere, where you don’t want it to.

I guess, that still might confuse some people. What weed exactly am I talking about?:

Figenbladet Gåsefod fugleognaturdk

Source fugleognatur.dk

This is a Goosefoot, Danish version. Chenopodium ficifolium

This is not a Botany Blog, but it might turn into that, if I fell off the fantasy blog wagon, and started doing real life things!

No, this has been in my lunchbox during the last few days. Stir-fried with a bit of Olive Oil and perhaps some onions, and a pinch of salt, then I have a nice, cheap alternative to Spinach.

If you don’t like wrinkled noses and OMG comments, then either don’t tell others what you are eating, or take a stand and say, “I’m proud to be eating weeds!”.

I don’t get much flak, as I am known as one who makes and eats Burning Nettle Soup, and for reading Harry Potter Books in German, so most of my co-workers have accepted my idiosyncrasies, as one of the things that make me, me.

So, take your Internet pages in hand (I would have a book) and look up what might be edible in your neck of the woods.

Remember to go after taste, otherwise you might be labelled as a fanatic, who only eats weeds to gain attention to themselves, and not for their culinary excellence!

Bon Appétit!

 

Who Done It? A Summer Mystery – Part 2

“Colonel Mustard, are you who you say you are?”

“Such an outrageous question. Of course I am, who I say I am.”

The lovely Miss Scarlett, and I were enjoying a quiet moment in the Conservatory.  “Why have you referred to me as Miss Scarlett with two Ts”, she said while wrapping her long legs around me.

“It makes you more exciting”, I said as I cleaned my Elephant Gun then sighted down the barrel, as if the prey was in the sights. “Click” said the gun, without firing a shot. “Got you you Blighter!” Then re-cocking the trigger for the killing shot.

“Shouldn’t you let the poor beast live?” Miss Scarlett asked, while shedding a tear at the loss of such a magnificent beast.

“Could be, I said, while wiping the sweat from my brow. “There are always more where that one came from!”

Dr Black chose that moment to enter the room, waxing his fake mustache, a habit that he never seemed to lose, even though it caused him a great deal of difficulty when dealing with the police.

“I saw her today”, he said while tossing a careless gaze over towards Miss Scarlett,” you know who?”

I tried to ignore him, and tried to tell Miss Scarlett that there wasn’t anyone but her. Not now, and definitely not before.

“She needs to see you, it is urgen”t, his wandering gaze following her legs from toe to tip, wherever they might take me, he thought to himself. If only, he were alone with her with me being out of the way, then…

His words did indeed seem urgent, but I doubted his intentions for being the lackey, the Messenger Boy for someone like her. “What did she promise you?”, I asked him directly, not wanting to beat around the bush, my hands grasping and ungrasping the lead pipe behind my back, waiting for a sudden slip of the truth, or the smell of her perfume on his jacket, or the faint imprint of red lipstick on his collar.

“Did you see her? Are you certain it was her?” I asked a bit more rough this time, pinning him to the Ficus Elastica, noticing how his breath was forced out of his lungs, reducing his answer to a mere gasp, “She sat in the Rolls. Her face was covered, but I am sure it was her….She left something for you….A Letter.”

I let him go, forcing him to collapse in a heap on the Persian Rug.

“That is a better fate, than you ever gave your patients, Old Snake in the Grass!”

He didn’t move, fearing my wrath, and disgust at his mere presence. He drew an envelope out of his pocket, making sure that it resembled the real thing, placing the final details with his quill pen, and sealing it with her wax seal. MP for Miss Peach, in orange wax of course. He handed it up to me, thus collapsing once again, disappearing as it were through the trap door, to points unknown.

“Who is she?”, Miss Scarlett asked,  while biting me on the left earlobe. Her voice reduced to a bare whisper, “Take me now, instead of meeting her”. Her sultry breath, her body close to mine, the lead pipe behind my back and a cigarette burning close enough to think that it was mine, if I smoked that is!

“I need to meet her”, I said, while  forcing my gaze upon her, undressing her in my mind, my hands over her body, her high-heeled shoes dangling over the table.

“Oh”, she said taken aback. “I didn’t know you were so forceful”, showing her hand, Full House, Aces and Spades. “I guess, I should hike up my dress a bit more, farther than any red-blood American Man could take.”

It’s a good thing, I was British, or else I might succumb to the combination of her red dress and her killing stare. It’s done others in, I’m sure, but we all have bodies buried in the basement, don’t we?

“I’ll be back later”, I told her and walked confidently out of the room, hoping that she would stop me from going, using her femme fatale, way of  persuasion. “Kick and Kiss me honey”, I said and left the room heading towards the Dining Room.

I feared poisoning was on today’s menu. “Soup du Aconite” with Amanita Muscaria as hors-d‘oeuvres, The Deadly Fly Agaric, when nothing better will do!

She sent someone else to serve the meal, Mrs White, in her best impression as maid, servant, and seductress, when all else failed to work.

“Colonel Mustard, what a delight it is to see you again”, I reached out to kiss her hand, but noticed a reddish look beginning to grow in intensity as she approached me. “Cyanide, anyone?” That is the question I could have asked her, but suddenly she began to suffer from shortness of breath then seizures, finally collapsing into a coma.

Dr Black might have been called in other instances, but he might as well have been the one who administered the deadly blow to an otherwise harmless old bat!

I then heard movement in the next room, prompting me to look through the keyhole, hoping against hope to catch a look, of my former love, caught in the act of seducing my best friend, subjecting him to the same tortures, she inflicted upon me, and I loved her for that, dear God. Oh how I loved her for that!

I started to turn the doorknob, and pressed the door inwards, hoping to catch her off guard. I had turned off the lights in the Dining Room in order to give myself an additional edge, in order to gain the upper hand, before she did. The room appeared as dark as my own, allowing for just a crack of light appearing under the door leading to the Hall.

I struck a match, fully expecting the flame to be shot out from under me, throwing me lifeless on the floor, dying in a bloodbath of ecstasy,  hoping to see her at least once more, before I met my maker!

The room was deathly still. I listened intently for her breathing and imagined her breasts heaving and sighing in the darkness. “Do you trust me?”, she once asked me, which seemed like an odd thing to say, with her knowing how I felt, and how I still do…I still do.

“So, you’ve come! I had hoped for as much, but you never know with Great White Hunters. Seeing you there, in Africa brandishing your Elephant Gun, blowing away the other Suitors of your love affairs gone wrong. Justifying it in the courts, as others that had sullied the name of Mustard, taking lover after lover, until your needs were satisfied, then casting those poor women aside as yesterday’s news.  And I, what of I? Am I just another conquest?  A trophy on your mantelpiece, which has lost the favor of your company. An old rag that you’ve wiped that nasty grin off your face with, then tossed it in the dustbin to be burned along with the rest of the garbage. Am I that person to you?”

I sensed, that she wasn’t as happy to see me, as I her! I had the Gun, in case….But she was wielding the Rope, and used it without questioning, without warning.

“If I tied your hands, would it make my intentions clear to you?” she asked me, just without warning, or my accept before I found myself bound and attentive to her words, and to her needs. “If I said that I have missed you so dearly that tramping on the others who have been poisoned, stabbed and bludgeoned, meant nothing to me, as long as you held me in your arms once again.”

Being bound and gagged, I felt that I was the perfect compliment to her words and questions, not being able to interject my anger, or question our existence together! I felt that this could work, for the both of us, as long as she didn’t feel like my lifeless body, dangling from the ceiling, while sipping a glass of Revenge Whiskey, that sounded like a better thing altogether!

Suddenly the lights went out, plunging us into darkness. A flash of lightning outside the window, accentuated her face, bathed in the fiery waters of revenge, raising her hand up with the knife that had done in so many former lovers, its tip glistening in the lightning light, falling downwards with a Shriek, the final Death Knell, when all hope is lost, and the end is near….

When the lights returned , I was greeted by the sight of Miss Scarlett, standing over the lifeless body of Miss Peach, dagger in her hand, glistening with blood, still dripping from its serrated edge. “You’ll thank me for that one someday”, she said, while slicing the knife blade up Miss Peach’s corset, revealing the less than sleek form of a woman that I once knew, back when she was alive, that is!

“You see? She wasn’t the woman, she said she was. Not sleek and elegant, not quick to forgive and forget, and definitely not someone for the likes of you!”

I was seeing Red, not in anger mind you, but Red all the same.

“Is that your Elephant Gun in your trousers, or are you just happy to see me?” She said while her long fingers danced about my face, like knives close enough to cut, or finger tips ready to caress.

I had quickly forgotten about any past loves, at least while Miss Scarlett was in my life. If anymore of them did manage to turn up, then she probably would still be in my life.

Oh, how I hate explaining to the police, where all these bodies have come from….

 

 

At the Movies – Chapter 16

There we were standing outside of the cinema, looking at the movies available to be seen on this Saturday afternoon. Mom would have made our decision for us, excluding the violent, the scary and the overly sexy movies, without ever asking us what we wanted to see. Dad suggested that we toss a coin, or perhaps it were better that we saw the movie that we liked, while he saw something that he liked. Things seemed to be getting better, and worse all the time. I admit to liking the thought of being together with the Girl Next Door all alone in the dark, but it was scary at the same time! I knew somewhat how her mind worked in the light, but not as much how it worked in the dark. Sometimes it is better, leaving well enough alone.

I figured that she’d probably want to see some Love Story and all that gushy stuff, but she didn’t care for that sort of thing.

It’s kind of like that song, I’ll Never Fall in Love Again:

What do you get when you kiss a guy?
You get enough germs to catch pneumonia ** and between you and me brother, that seems to be more trouble than it’s worth!

I’ll admit to being a bit worried about being in the dark with her, but to hear her last words about love being so much trouble, didn’t exactly make my day seem any better.

Dad had chosen some adult film called “Clockwork Orange” which sounded like some sort of highbrow thing, that probably would bomb terribly, and disappear quickly from sight! We decided to see Escape from the Planet of the Apes which seemed like a nice compromise between what Dad was watching, or waiting to catch pneumonia from kissing some girl.

We discussed where to sit, but couldn’t quite agree with each other. I said that the sound was better in the front row, but she wanted the whole picture, and chose the very last seat in the theater. Dad had given me some money for candy, popcorn and sodas, so I excused myself (which my mother said I should do in the company of others) and made my way to the snack bar, before the picture started. When I returned to our places, the movie had started making things difficult with balancing the sodas and popcorn, and not having my feet stick to the floor, where others had been more unlucky with their sodas. It was also dark which made my eyes not be able to find the seats at first, but finally sat down next to….Hey. Where has she gotten to?

I thought when the movie started, she would have been there, but maybe she had to go to the ladies room, or something? The movie started with the usual Apes vs Man theme, but that didn’t seem to be important, as my friend still didn’t come back to our places. I decided to place our popcorn on the seats, and go back out into the waiting area to find my friend. It was pretty empty now, with just the sound of the popcorn machine, and the ice-maker humming in the background. I went over to my Father’s theater, but didn’t see her anywhere around, even trying to look inside to catch a glimpse of her. No Luck there.

The next theater was showing some gushy love movie, so I took a chance and waited near the entrance, until my eyes got used to the darkness. It didn’t seem to be that many people who had Love on their minds on that Saturday afternoon, but I did see one lone figure sitting in the front row, eyes glued to the screen. I casually sauntered over to her and sat down next to her. She didn’t seem to notice me being there, so I just waited patiently and tried to get into the movie at hand. There was some sort of couple who were in love and all that stuff, but she got Cancer and was in the hospital. Her mother was some sort of a crazy wacko, who made her life difficult, even though she had cancer and her husband was fooling around with her best friend!

I wondered if those Apes had decided to eat our popcorn and drink our sodas, having put their feet up on the seats in front of us, making monkey sounds and laughing while Chuck Heston yelled at the Statue of Liberty on the beach at the end of the movie. Roddy McDowell and Kim Hunter were in their monkey suits, which probably was a pretty warm thing to do, but they got hosed down in their cages, before one of them said something in English, and the humans got all panicky, and decided to end the movie in order to make another sequel.

As I sat there and worried about our candy and popcorn being eaten by strangers, my friend leaned her head upon my shoulder and placed her hand upon mine. I don’t know, but I could have been anyone right then and there, so I hoped she knew it was me, or maybe she did that kind of thing every Saturday at the movies? I leaned my head towards hers, and there we were together, watching some movie about love and all that stuff, in the dark, sitting closer than I had ever sat next to a girl in my whole life, and you know what? It wasn’t as bad, as I had imagined it to be!

The movie plot went from bad to worse with the girl’s mother getting lucky with the fellow next door, while her daughter wasted away in the hospital. Her husband had gotten kicked out by her best friend, who told him to take a hike, or a leap at a rolling donut, which made me see why that movie had gotten an “R” rating for language and suggestive behavior. My mother would have made me leave immediately and probably would have me showing up at our church, to do community service, but the reverend was not there being it Saturday, and he was probably in seeing Clockwork Orange, or The Nun’s Story, or whatever movies those kind of people like to see? I was happy that my mother was at least 200 miles away at that moment, and my father was close by, but far enough away to not discover what his son and his little friend were doing at that moment!

My friend sighed a quiet sigh, then turned toward me and looked me in the eyes. “What are you doing touching my hand, and head like that! I ought to call an usher right now! Have you lost your mind, or something? I thought you’d be in with your Ape-movie! You men are all the same: Leaving your wife, when she has cancer, then wanting to come back and get friendly with her again! I’m not that kind of a girl!!!”

I was already on my way out of the door of her theater, and on my way back to my own. Somebody had eaten half of the popcorn, and had spilled one of the drinks on the floor, making things even more sticky than when I came in. I managed to come back, when the credits were rolling down the screen, just before the lights were turned on once again. I thought of going back to my friend, but was shown out to the exit by a flashlight waving usher, looking very mean and determined to stop people from sneaking back into the theater in order to seen another film for free.

I waited outside still sipping on my soda, when my father happened on by. “Whew, that was one crazy film! Your mother would have walked out, even before the titles were done in the beginning of the movie. How did it go with you two? Where has your little friend gotten to?”

Yes. Where had she gotten to? We walked towards the car, talking about what we had seen, but were surprised to see my friend waiting for us next to the car as we arrived. “My, oh my. What do we have here? Two handsome and gallant men out on a lark this fine Saturday afternoon!”

My father was smiles from ear to ear at her comment. He looked at me, as if to say how lucky I was to have such a nice friend as her, while I was wondering when she would be asking my father to stop by the police station on the way home, in order to report me to the proper authorities for assault and battery! She didn’t say anything of the kind on the way home, but thanked my father more than once for his generosity and thoughtfulness at inviting her along with us.

When we got back home again, my father said that “We should do this again sometime” then disappeared into the house, leaving us alone on the street once again.

“Listen here you Ninny” she started to say, as I considered going inside once again where I felt it was a safer place to be. “I got a bit carried away at the cinema, OK? Nothing to worry about. If you don’t mention it again, then neither will I?” I just nodded and agreed without saying that much. I thought things were going in the right direction between us, but when she lost her nut in the theater, I started to doubt my relationship possibilities with her all over again!

“It’s complicated, you know?” she said as she headed toward her house. “I wouldn’t have had a better time with anyone else but you, and I’m glad that we shared a special moment with each other today!”

I agree. It was a special moment together. She still confused the heck out of me, and I didn’t know if I was coming or going, but I guess that some things seem more trouble than they are worth.

Like love and all that stuff…..

** I’ll Never Fall in Love Again. Burt Bacharach/Hal David

 

The Cancellation of Summer – Travels Part 3

I wondered if she knew just who she was, or more importantly, who I was?

It seemed like each day brought new things, and each night brought us together, but with the sunrise at the new day’s dawn, we were strangers once again.

“Who are you?”, she chanced to say, while we still shared the last moments of the Summer Night. “Why are you here with me? Are you staying or going now?”

“My Summer had been cancelled”, I explained once again. The same explanation, at the same time on each new day, to the same person. Not being angry at who I was, just wondering why, we were traveling together?

“Consider me to be a chance companion on the road. We met and we are traveling together, no more, no less”, though I was lying. I was lying, because I still remember the night before, and the scent of her perfume on my skin. I was lying not only to myself, but her as well, for I feared that she would leave me alone during this Summer, not having any direction, nor companionship to share life’s small moments with.

“Where are you going today?” She asked me rather nonchalantly, as if I were the Engineer, “All Aboard” the conductor would say, motioning the lack of guests onto the train, staring his empty stare at the rows of seats, empty seats filled with non-paying passengers.

“I thought of taking a trip, somewhere.” Something that I said in a sort of way which would suggest a destination, without having one. “We could travel there together”, said not necessarily to her, but to her as well, if she chose not to travel with me.

“I’ll consider your invitation”, she said, “but I might just have other plans as well.” She turned away as if she were heading in the direction of her destination.

“Can I come with you?” I asked, not in a pleading way, but in one that suggested that we should travel together.

“Oh, Are you also traveling somewhere today?”


I thought this line of questioning was getting us no closer to finding out, who the real murderer was. She was toying with me, but I liked it. “Have I ever showed you my knife?”, she asked while I looked for another cigarette, even though I never had smoked before. She hiked up her skirt and showed me her holster, sporting a thin stiletto. “Only in case of emergency”, she hastened to say, but how many emergencies did come, remained between her and herself.

Did she really kill him? I doubted it, but then I had fallen for her unmercifully and unabashed. I had jeopardized the case, by doing so, but her eyes told me that I wanted her, no matter what.

“Take me for a ride”, she said in that way which made me melt onto the floor. Stepping daintily over the puddle on the floor, she looked out of the window to the street. “My convertible is still parked at the curb. Tank filled with gas, and a woman ready to go all the way! What do you say to that, Big Boy?” I pulled myself together, and dusted off the odd piece of wax or two, before sweeping her off her feet, and passing through the waiting window to the street below.

“I’ll drive”, she said while twirling her keys in the air, looking for the right one to use.

“The wrong one will take us farther”, I said without hesitation, but with a doubt if she would indeed go that far?

“He loves me, he loves me not”. She sat on the front seat, her legs draped over the side of the car, tossing the odd key away, as if they were petals on a Summer Flower, blowing away in the wind. “He might have loved me, just before I shot him. He might have been the one, but my knife knew no mercy.”

“Save me,” he cried. “Don’t do the deed!”

Was she confessing to the perfect crime, or just toying with me again? She chose the key with the leopard’s head, and placed it in the ignition. The motor roared as if it were on the Serengeti, chasing antelopes in their final death knell. “Hop in before they catch us, alone and unarmed, waiting to sink their teeth into us.” She just stood there, looking out across the African Skies. It looked like rain, somewhere. Just not here, not today.

“I love seeing the wind in your hair”, said while we raced along the Endless Plains, as said in the Maa, in the Maasai. “Africa was a good choice for today”, said while thumbing through my travel brochures, tossing them onto the back seat, but turning into Mosquitoes instead. “Why did you do that?” she cried, while getting stung a place or two, having to scratch an itch, which had been bothering her since we met, almost losing control of the jeep while doing so. “Have you ever done it in Africa before?” I assumed that “it” would become known to me, while we raced across the patterns and undulations of the grassy plains. She released the wheel and let the jeep flow along with the current, heading towards the falls, The thundering falls.

“Should we pretend that we are in a barrel going over Ndoro Waterfall?”, said while gazing into the bluest of my eyes? “I can see an ocean in there”, she remarked while the car was spinning out of control, the current tearing trees and rocks from the shore, adding to the chaos and mayhem of the boiling river. “I can see an ocean of possibilities, when traveling with you”, she said to me, in a rather unabashed way, throwing caution to the winds and kissing me….The vehicle swerved from side to side, as if the road had lost control of the situation.

I took control, and held her in my arms, stemming the tide of confusion, the jeep rolling to a stop in front of my office once again. “Did you do it dearest?”, I asked while running my fingers through her hair, sifting out the trees and rocks that had entangled themselves in the waves.”Did you really kill him?”

She turned away as if to confess to no one, she whispered something, which made me want to hear something else, and not what she wanted to say. “I loved traveling with you today,” I imagined her saying. “I loved seeing the blue in your eyes, I could love an ocean with you”, which must have been the words she had been whispering, the words that I did so want to hear.

Not Guilty. How could it be otherwise? I believed her as she gazed into my eyes..

I could love an ocean with you……

 

 

Mid Summer. 23 June 2016 Denmark

Today is known in Denmark as Sankt Hans Aften, or Mid Summer to the rest of the world.

The celebration which marks the Summer Equinox in Denmark, at least close to that day, in any case.

Here is a Wiki-link for all of you, who aren’t familiar with this day:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midsummer

Here is the bonfire in various stages:

sankt hans bål før

Before the burnable pile is moved into position, 2 days ago.

bål_1

Now the witch is getting a bit warm.

bål_4

She’s heading for a fall.

bål_6

The party at a distance.

bål_8

Smoke clouds over Denmark.

bål_9

Young people playing with the fire.

vi elsker vort land

Here are the words to the song, which is sung every year. In Danish of course.

Here is a partial translation:

We love our land
When it signals Christmas time
Light up the stars in the tree
With a twinkle in each eye
When springtime is about
Every bird over field and down by beach
Let your voice greet us with warbles
“We sing your laws over our ways
We sound your name when our harvest is freed”
But the most beautiful wreath becomes your, Saint hans
It is the start of summers heart so warm, so glad
But the most beautiful wreath will therefore be yours

We love our land
Our midsummer most
When each cloud over the field sends a blessing
When the flowers are in bloom
And the cattle go in from pasture

Source: http://www.phrasebase.com/archive2/danish/sankt-hans.html

If you are interested in how the melody sounds, then here is a link for you:

You do need to remember that it is from 1885, and might not fit into everyone’s idea of a “hit” song by today’s standards, but it has become a tradition in Denmark, rain or shine every year at the same time.

It has rained all day in Northern Jutland. Here is the weather map at 5:10pm, just 3 hours before our local bonfire was to begin in Aalborg.
regn 1710

Then just before the main event, the rains stopped.

Here is the view at 9:10 pm.

vejr 2110

Everyone was happy to be able to enjoy the evening, together with family and friends.

And Coco the dog enjoyed being out as well…..

coco sankt hans

Happy Midsommer fra Danmark!

 

Sometimes, Lentils are not enough…

I never thought I’d be telling anyone, that Lentils were not enough.

Oh, I must say that I’ve reveled in Chickpeas, especially when they are popping while swimming in their nighttime water, but Garbanzos might just disagree with that?

I went the way of Soybeans, which was the farthest journey I took inside of Bean Lore. I boiled them and tried my hand at Tofu, Edamame wanted me to call it, but I resisted and chose frozen Soybeans instead! Others around me wouldn’t understand technical terms, and I was afraid of losing more converts, if I didn’t take heed of their ignorance, as it were.

My cupboards bulged with Beans, Legumes and other dried kernels of protein. I was tempted by the Vegan Side, but was beaten back once again by my meat-loving family and threats of bean banishment, if I didn’t conform to the others’ Non Vegan Ways. I started to plan my own meals, while still preparing the mainstream, hamburgers and hot dogs, and the like. Hypocrite some might call me, but it was the way to the means of Bean Independence, sly though it might have seemed to others.

My Lentil Friends felt as if I had forgotten about them. I was not stoic to their needs and wants, alas. I just heard another calling, while they still existed in my sub-conscious, waiting for their time to come again.

Chilies and Curries danced around me, like a mad protein dream, clutching at my sleeping memories and not letting me awake. I murmured their names, Lentil Chili, Lentil Curry, Lentil Soups, Lentils……

How many times have I awoken, bathed in sweat, wondering how long my Non Lentil Dreams had been soaking in anticipation of the final boil?

Have you heard them? Have you heard them boiling on the stove?

The Lentils just laughed and said, “Remember the shortness of our boil!” “Remember lest you forget!”

I’ve been here before, on the Lentil Doorstep. They’ve always taken me back before, all of those times that I’ve fallen by the Bean Wayside. Tempted by the other, flashier Pintos and Long Beans, the tiny Chias and the arrogant Amaranths. How I was tempted by their claims of Vegan Heaven, and Protein Dreams.

How weak they, my Lentil Friends, must consider me, one of their former stalwart allies. One who only professed a beauty and admiration of their otherwise nondescript forms, and has held their place in the cupboard to be one of honor and respect.

I only hope, I can once again touch the hem of their garments, and rise up to the level of Lentil Greatness, once again.

I can only hope……

Who Done It? A Summer Mystery Tale

“I wish I had been Colonel Mustard in the Drawing Room with the Candlestick, while you would fit best as being Miss Scarlet, femme fatale.”

“I wouldn’t want to put words in your mouth, but I thought that Mrs Peacock was a bit too old to fit you well enough.”

She just looked up from her book of Sonnets, and sighed a heavy sigh. I really didn’t think that what I said was worthy of so heavy a sigh, but then she is an adult, and has the right to choose how heavy and how intense, her sighs would be. And she did.

“I noticed that the mail had come today, a bit earlier than normal”, she said while placing her book aside, marking her place with a particularly long Peacock Feather. Something about that feather said something to me, but I guess, I was a bit hard of hearing at that point in time, and didn’t hear the screech of the peacocks!

“There was a letter for you, if you truly profess to be Colonel Mustard, Great White Hunter and Colonial Imperialist? I’ve never really seen those qualities in you, but then we really don’t know everything about each other as yet.” She took out a long, stiletto, which appeared to be hidden in her plumage, way down deep where even the crows are not allowed to build their nests.

“I’ll open it for you, as it is sharp enough to pierce your steely gaze, and puncture your dreams of a night so lovely together with me.”

I was taken aback at her suggestion of infidelity, knowing that she was capable of things that other women would only dream of, or shudder while they occurred. The knife cut its way through the envelope like a hot blade through butter, causing the contents to fall upon the ground.

“Oh, let me.” She bent down to pick up the letter revealing her assets to a common banker as myself. I wanted to open an account, and let her take my money, if that is what she wanted, as long as I could gaze into her eyes, and tell her that I’d never ever met someone like her before.

As quickly as the bank vault had been opened for view, the safe was locked once again, with her swallowing the key, tout de suite.

She handed the letter to me, watching the expression of my surprise, while I read it first to myself, then contemplated reading it as well to her?

“It says, that the Reverend Mr Green has requested the honor of our presence in the Conservatory at precisely 2 pm.” I looked at my watch and thought that her eyes perused the letter for any additional details, but not telling me of her interest whatsoever.

I took a candlestick from the mantel, and contemplated lighting the candles, in  anticipation the approaching storm, which had been battering the shutters and shaking the foundations of my imagination.

“I think the lights will go out”, she said, while thinking of something unsaid. Almost in the same instant, the lights did go out, leaving  the candles as the only source of light in the room. I felt, as if I should tell her how lovely her features were accentuated in the glow of the candlelight, but felt that she only was interested in the meeting of Rev. Mr Green, and how she would benefit by that.

“Do you trust me?”, she asked while my thoughts were somewhere else. Call them back, those thoughts, and turn them toward me. Such a pleasant thought for my wandering thoughts, being in such lovely company, while the storm threw large stones against the outside walls. “Shouldn’t we sit for a while on the velvety sofa, while we wait for the time to come”, but not waiting for my measured response, before enticing me onto the sofa, lying in her equally velvety arms. I had trouble discerning where she started and the sofa stopped, but as it didn’t seem to matter, which or where, I let myself take the journey together with her.

“Can you imagine, the two of us together?”Before I chanced to answer, she took out the deepest of all red lipsticks, placing it upon her two otherwise red lips, while seeming to whisper something that I could not hear. I wanted to tell her, “say it again”, but didn’t want to drop my guard all at once. The clock ticked on, with the arms moving over noon, heading toward our destiny.

“The Reverend is known to me”, she said without hesitation. “He was a friend of my father, but fell into the peril of knowing me, and that has led to his downfall.”

Would I also suffer the same fate, I asked myself. Would I want to call it suffering, or deadly pleasure, a predictable romantic interlude, or the loss of my sensibilities and emotions?”

The time entered a new phase, of expectation. I wondered, if we were to use the Secret Passage, or if it were safe to enter the hallway on the way to the Conservatory?

“He might just find us, before we find him,  you know?” said while running her fingers through my hair, letting the tips of her eyelashes caress my face, allowing a tear to fall unknown to her, and to me as well.

The clock struck 2 with the sound of chimes, ringing in the distance. The church clock had never been on time before, but today it seemed like a miracle had occurred. The clock struck, with the 2 chimes heard, then silence occurred. Utter and absolute silence.

She rose up from the couch, brushing off my presence, as if I were just another piece of lint along the way. “It is time, and we must go”, which seemed to be an unnecessary statement, with us locked in an unending kiss, arms bound together in a stormy embrace, the thunder warning others of keeping a distance, before the dam of my heart broke inundating us…

“Mr Green? The Reverend Mr Green?” I was oblivious to the darkness of the Conservatory, having only seen her silhouette in the darkness of our embrace. Our way was blocked by the peacocks, which seemed to be guarding the prone form of someone, lying in a most unusual way, not moving for the sake of moving, just not so.

Mr Green seemed to be asleep, but judging by the expression on his face, I began to fear the worse.

“Did you? Is he?” Wondering if he had already been like this, before she entered the room and waited together with me? Can I trust her, do I dare?

Suddenly the lights came on again, revealing a not so unpleasant day after all. The peacocks continued to drop their feathers, which were then collected and placed in our Elephant Foot Umbrella Stand, waiting to mark books or initiate lifeless prone forms, in another reality as such.

“Did you trust me?”, she asked so intensely, that I forgot that just moments before, I almost accused her of things that would have caused her to be hanged at the neck until dead, if we had lived in that other time, that is.

“Do you trust me?”, she asked again, which made me forget my Colonel Mustard Dreams, and Great White Hunter aspirations, which as she knew from the start, didn’t fit me anyway.

“Do you trust me to be together with you, alone in the Drawing Room, with the lights out, possessing a stiletto, to cut with, or kill for.”

“Do you trust me, to hide The Reverend Mr Green’s family fortune in the deepness of the Elephant Foot Umbrella Stand, until the coast would be clear for us?”

“Do you trust me, to let your heart be mine, and your thoughts blend with mine, making us one with time and life?”

“Oh, Miss Scarlet, please be mine and mine alone, allowing me to take care of your obvious assets, in ways most pleasurable to us both.”

“Oh, Colonel Mustard. How do you know if I am a girl like that?”

“Just a lucky guess”, picking up a peacock feather and caressing her gently.

Just a lucky guess…….

 

The Cancellation of Summer – Travels part 1

I just stood there, ticket in hand, wondering why these things always seemed to happen to me?

I thought, if I chose another line to stand in, then there might still be a bit of Summer to be had for me?

Summer Express – Lines Don’t Form Here

All of the Summer windows seemed to be closing one by one. Everyone who had been lucky, was on their way to here and there, laughing and singing their Summer songs, blowing kisses at each other, and going hand in hand out of the building.

I went to the last window, where the sign said, “Summer Refunds”. It was kind of dusty and needed painting, but I thought it still was open a bit.

“Hello”, I said. Knocking on the window a bit.” Hello in there, anybody home?”

The window opened slowly but surely, as if there actually was a real person behind it.

“What do you want? Go away and enjoy your Summer. This window is closed for the season.”

“I’ve got this ticket, you see?” Talking not necessarily to anyone in particular, but my story needed telling all the same. “I’ve got the whole Summer yet to explore, and I just can’t come home without it!” I tried to sound needy and pitiful in a needy and pitiful kind of way, hoping my last hope that I would indeed be lucky this time around.

“Come in if you have to, and let us have a look at you”.

The doorway gave way to a Sunny Beach, but I’d come too close to the water in my Springtime Shoes. “Watch out for the Sand Crabs you Dolt!”, which was not said in an unkind way, but then not everything to do with Sand Crabs can be defined as kind or unkind.

She was lying all alone on a beach, which said something to me of Summer, which I thought I could recognize, even though I still only was dressed for Spring. “Kind of out of place, aren’t you?” She looked up from her beach towel, squinting in the Summer Sun, peering at me over her darkest of glasses, while sipping on her straw, her Summer drink straw.

Stand a bit over to the left, won’t you?” I didn’t see any reason, not to help her out in this case, so i moved to the left.” The left, you blockhead, not the right. Honestly, if we are ever going to see eye to eye, then it doesn’t do any good thinking about the world from your vantage point!”

She was right, in a kind of nasty, put down way. She was right. I tried to change my attitude, and my outlook on life. I considered Hedgehogs and Giraffes, and could see that they would never make it as a couple, having to shoot looks of longing at each other and what might have been. I moved in the reverse direction, hoping that it was the right way, and not having to rub her the wrong way?

“We haven’t even exchanged telephone numbers, and you are concerned about rubbing me the wrong way”, she said in the shade of my Hassock, which I lay upon, draped over like a set of Monday’s pajamas, cast off after a cold night’s sleep.

I was still thinking of Spring, while she was obviously in a Summer Way. “I don’t usually sleep in pajamas in the Summer”, she said, as if that were information that would be useful to remember? “Well, said while mustering my courage, What do you sleep in?”

She leaned back again, spilling her drink over the silica sand, rich in aragonite.” Have you ever been in the Gobi Desert?”, she asked rather matter of factly, while not looking at me anymore. “This is not the same as Dune Sand, but it has fooled others, mind you.”

I took off my shoes, and threw them into the water, only to have them brought back to me on the next set of waves. My Spring socks had holes in them, which made me tuck them carelessly into my back pocket, and act as if I’d always had my Summer Feet ready to test the sandy waters, as it were.

I dug my toes into the sand, and held my index finger in the air. The right one, that is. “Are you sure this isn’t Quartz sand with green glauconite?”

She chose that moment to bolt upright and sneer in my direction. “Does this look like Estonia to you?” said in such a way, that I needed to rethink my location and began to squint across the sandy beaches, holding my hand over my eyes, while trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t raise her ire.

“You are right, you know, this is definitely not Estonia material! The sun is all wrong, and the lighthouses are not in the same way. Definitely not Estonia!”

She fell back down once again, and contemplated my toes in the sand. “Not from around here, are you?” said, as if she could tell that by looking at my whitish toenails, and rather Spring colored feet.

“No. I was actually on my way to Summer, but got waylaid by a lack of seats on the Summer Express. I took quite a bit of baggage from Spring, you see, but it has weighted me down quite a bit. I’m not sure if that is what caused me to be bumped from the passenger list, but as I’ve run out of other plausible explanations, I could see no other recourse than to seek a refund. And that is what brought me here to you.”

“Do you think?”

She said that in such a way, that I knew I was in trouble.

I felt that I had been as honest as possible, and had thrown myself on the mercy of the Court. “I wronged her. I did. I wronged her, and now I’m being punished for my actions. She stuck by me, and righted me out, but that was not enough for me. It was never enough though. Everyone was pointing at me, wishing me to be in harm’s way, hoping for a heavenly interjection, but that was not in this courtroom. That was not in this lifetime.”

“Do you think, that in talking to me, that you will gain my favor, lying here next to me in your Spring way, while I am contemplating Summer, all alone by myself?”

I could see that this was not the window for refunds, but in the way that she looked into my eyes, made me think that there would be a Summer Journey for me, if I played my cards right that is.

“Jack of Diamonds”, she said while keeping her cards close to her chest. “Can you match that, or are you not the betting type?” I peeked at my cards, adjusting my visor a bit trying to keep prying eyes away from my hand. I thought, I had a pair of Aces a minute ago, but wait a minute, here they are, “Aces High” I said with as much conviction as possible, waiting for her to show her hand.

“Fold”, she said. “You win. I guess, we’ll be journeying together, but I warn you, my favors are not to be trifled with.”

“Not by me”, I told her, but I wanted to be with her tonight, all the same.

Not by me…..

 

 

 

An Unusual View on the Limfjord Canal

An event that occurred in Aalborg, Denmark is over now, but last night there was a finale, which is the main topic of this blog

My approach to the docks was met with the following views, at 9:55 PM.

regatta1

regatta4

The crowds had been enjoying this maritime atmosphere for the last few days, and in the background a number of musical groups were performing, before the day’s events were to end with a large firework show on the Northern Side of the Limfjord Canal.

I was one of the privileged few, who was able to view this spectacular show from the middle of the Fjord, on Jens Krogh, a Ketch from 1899.

On the way out  took a few more shots of the ships around me, as well as on the ship, Jens Krogh, itself:

At 11pm the firework show started lasting about 20 minutes.

I wouldn’t say that my iPhone did them justice, but then it was not easy anticipating when they would explode, or if in the darkness, I could get a good focus!

We had front row seats, I managed to stand up instead, with only us being between the masses on the docks, and the fireworks on the other side of the Canal.

When we returned to our original position, the crowds had thinned out, leaving only a few pictures left to take at 11:45pm.

 

Aalborg Regatta is over for this year, but there will be new memories to be had next year, I’m sure….