Wet rain and Dry rain

The other day after a huge deluge of rain I asked Fart, ‘Why we had puddles all over the place?’
He said, ‘Well you see those puddles over there?’
‘No fart, those are the ones I’m asking about, stupid!’ Jezzzz human males!
He looked at me and we had a short looking episode. You know the ones!
Anyway...to keep it nice, I looked across at the puddles he was pointing at, and they were really muddy farm field puddles.
‘Yes fart’, I said
‘Well that is wet rain.’
I looked at him quizzically, ‘Yes.’
‘And you see where there is no rain’.
‘Yes’. I said.
‘Well that is dry rain.’ He took a deep breath and folding his arms across his chest and sighed.

Now, I know fart - and was pondering on this when he said, ‘And you see those puddles over there?’ These were on our porch and the water was unmuddied - clear.
‘Yes’, I said.
‘Well that is new-rain puddles’.
When God rains, there are clear drops and muddy drops you see.

So whenever you go walking don’t stand in the new-rain puddles. Let’s try and keep somethings fresh and beautiful for as long as possible. As for the No rain puddles, well stay away from them as well, please, dem’s where the trout eggs grow.
Have a happy confused New Year.
2012 is the year of ‘The cat clouts Farts’ BIGTIME.

FESTIVITY 2011

Well look out - fart is on a trot. We might get a few words out of him here.
He is feeling guilty – I can tell. ‘GOOD!’ Time he got ye olde bloggie going again.
He has just been for a walk along the farm trails between the cud chewers and the new corn shoots. I know he came back all excited, well I thought he was excited but it turns out he is just panting from the excursion of the walk.
Lovely sunset, to walk around though. Hot morning, cloudy and thunder this afternoon with a little rain. The cud chewers are happy as well. Lots of fresh, long green grass to eat so we can have lovely fresh creamy white milk. I wonder how they do that? When I eat grass all I get are pukey fur balls, which Fart has to clean up!
Good on ya, Fart!
Fart says he has found a place up the road where he can get super big trout for my festive Feast. Hehehehehe.
Have a festive festive all my lovelies.
Fart is going to have his butt kicked to get up to date and activated.

NAKED AIR WAVES

Fart watched a movie last night called Mr Popper’s penguins. He was in hooting behaviour. He even got himself a second glass of red wine from the chateau in the fridge to go with the chicken curry he had cooked himself in the microwave.
That was another sight to behold. Himself prancing around like a pirate dancing around the main mast in a heavy storm. It was the first time he had cooked a stew type thing in the microwave and he was over the moon. I had great difficulty in getting to sleep though. Such exuberance so early in the evening messes up my sleep pattern.

I have told him my fans out there are not getting much of my presence on the net whilst he is watching movies. His excuse – I need a mind stimulating break from writing.

Yeah, he does do a lot of writing but my fans are more important. I mean we go to the extent of getting an ACTUAL ‘SOOTIE SHACK’, and what happens. The airwaves go bare!

Can’t have that...will not have that...’HEAR ME FART!’
So we will be back on line again. Try and catch up and stay up...’HEY FART!’

KITTY - PUNCTURE

Fart has just spent a week in the city having his sore arm fixed by an acupuncturist.
I would have done it for free with my special ‘acukitty-puncture’ treatment. ALWAYS works.
But at least we are able to get some action back into this blog – so it seems.
While fart was in Durban, a friend came and saw to my needs. I missed Fart, he is such a love. Just needs keeping in hand. But he does know how to look after me.
He has been told by his doctor that he must take it easy for a while – no hard work –
THAT DOES NOT INCLUDE COMBINGS AND BRUSHINGS FART!.
He will be able to finish unpacking our goodies and do some work on the Sootie shack soon.

THE ‘SOOTIE SHACK’

As I was saying we have moved into my own cottage. Yep, it is very small- but then Fart and I do not need a lot of space. He was telling me last evening, that he is used to small places and feels more comfortable in them. He told me that with his experience of living in big and small places, small places give him more energy. He lived in a cave in Cape Town for two years. He hitch hiked all over Southern Africa, living in the bush. He has had the odd bachelor pad; in Wales he lived in a caravan, in the Isle of Wight he and my great auntie Mari lived in a caravan – with my lovely auntie Siwan. In Kirdford he lived in a caravan when he was working on a stud farm. (Good old Fart the STUD - where IS John Travolta?) In Peacehaven he lived in a beach hut for eighteen months. In the Orkney Isles he and my great auntie Mari shared a barn with chickens, sheep and cows, when they worked on a farm. He and my great auntie Mari lived in a van in London and he has lived on boats as well. So I should imagine he does know what he is talking about. My ‘Sootie Shack’ is a prefab building and it is so cute. You can see the photo off to the right. It is so homely. We live on a hillside, next to a forest, sourrounded by farmsfields and ‘cud chewers’. At night we can hear the owls and the silly jack asses in the forest. I can see Mvoleni mountain and the Drakensberg from just about everywhere in the cottage. We do not call it a prefab, we call it prefab..u..lous. I mean it was fabulous but now it is a very fabulous prefab – cause I live in it. That reminds med 'Fart I have had no ... I said no... tgrout for at least two weeks!' 'Wake up you Silly little hum...man.' Ohhh the power. I think I'll go and meditate.

NOZIE NEIGHBOURS MOOZING AROUND

So, besides blue fish, bats and bouncers. I have met more types of intelligentia. Well one is. The other, which I am going to talk about now, is questionable. Our neighbours, who come and go, live ten feet away. Fart calls them ‘dairy cows’. I call them ‘ dreary neighbours’. I mean, all they do is stand on the other side of the fence, staring at us with huge brown eyes, mumbling sweet nothings to each other and dribbling noses. ‘They are not mumbling to each other,’ says Fart, ‘they are chewing the cud.’ Good old super sensitive hearing Fart, who is hard of hearing anyway – hey mummsy? And don’t tell them this, I think their choice of fashion is despicable. I do believe they go to the same tailor as well. They are all in black and white jerseys. ‘So what do you think of the neighbours?’ Fart said. My nether regions suddenly needed licking. Fart got the point, ‘OK, you don’t have to be rude,’ He said ‘but remember that is where milk comes from.’ Milk, MY Milk comes from them. Instant retching fit. Then belly laughing. Having a fit of the two simultaneously can be tricky, believe me. My milk could not come from anything as boring, dirty and brain dead as them things. To keep it simple I just said, ‘Fart MY milk is white, they eat green grass.’ Suddenly, another itch around my nether regions. God – so simple that little man, I said to my bits.

KITTY LOGIC = IN - BUT NOT OUT

Last evening fart sat down with his customary glass of red and said, ‘Well Soot we’re in.’
He was referring to the fact that we had arrive at our new refabulous dwelling. AND, it is fabulous, ‘cause we have called it Sootie’s Shack. My very own cottage! Not many, expat cats have their own cottage in Africa.
Anyway, my response to the Fart was, ‘How can we be in, if we are not out?’
He looked through drooping eyes lids at me: ‘What do you mean, we are in. Last night we slept here in our own bed cuddled up together, you waking every five minutes to make sure I am alive, and you’re going to get your breakfast in the morning. We are in!’ He creased his forehead at me.
‘Listen carefully, you silly little man,’ sometimes I have to be very direct with him, ‘There are piles of boxes in the study room. So we are in yes, but not all together out. Right?’
He looked at me with even more droopy eyes, ‘Sootie, let’s keep it simple. I am emptying the boxes slowly. We have moved to a smaller cottage from a three bedroom cottage. We have to organise and do things slowly, or we will be in a hell of a mess.’
So what’s different? I thought. I gave him a killer look, turned three times, stuck my hind leg in the air, and started to lick my bum. Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

KITTY MOVES

I am busy packing up my litter tray and my beds. Yep beds plural. They are set out around the house so that I get the best sunshine or peace depending on my mood. Then there is my chair in the lounge and my chair on the porch.
Fart is too busy doing his thing - so I have to do ALL this on my own.
Excuse us for a couple of weeks and we will be back to tell you bout it all.
Stay happy fans and the new guys in the West Indies. Sorry we beat you at cricket but you guys are SOOOO cool anyway.

OUR BIRTHDAY MAN

I told fart that Hedd is a lot longer than last time he was here.

AND Auntie Siwan is looking slim, trim and VERY hot. I think it was from blowing up all those balloons.

Fart' top lip hit the dirt, and he said, ‘No, she is always like that. She is just lovely.’

I had to sit on his lap and explain that I knew that – I was just joking.

Silly little man.

I also told him that they eat lots of T-R-O-U-T and that is why they always look so hot and lovely and clever. Like we could if we ate LOTS OF TROUT, FART.

MY CUZ, HEDD MORUS BIRTHDAY

It’s my cuz, Hedd Morus is turning fifteen today. He’s the cool blonde guy in the chillaxed glue sunglasses. He lives in Borth, Wales. Super great guy and the birds fall over themselves to get to him. Don’t tell him I told you, cause he would get p..... off with me.

Siwan his mom (Farts beautiful daughter) is his mum. He’s just as lucky as me having a lovely mummsy. They are going to watch the Nottinghill Parade in London. Siwan has booked a campsite nearby. I know fart wishes he could be with them. But if we went it would mean I would be put into a cage for six months – stupid humans.

As I am nineteen years old (in human years) that means Hedd is one hundred and forty seven years younger than me. But I am still more beautiful than him. All the guys chase me here.

Hedd have a funsunzi day (Fun sun and sea day – super happy and cool in Durban).

Fart asked Siwan to stick her tongue in his ear as a birthday present! Bet she didn’t. That is the ultimate kitty kat good birthday wish.

Watch your cat – every time he/she/it sticks his/her/it’s tongue down another cat’s ear you know to get out the TROUT.

‘FART ... T-R-O-U-T ... O-U-T ... for Hedd ... N-O-W!’
I’ll have his share. As he is one hundred and forty seven years younger than me he is only a nipper and might get caught up in bones and things. I hope.
Har Har Har.

‘Fart ... where are you? Service please! ... get here NOW!’‘Silly little man!’

BOUNCERS OR MOLE HILLS

Last night fart and I were sitting out on the porch, in the dark. He was giving me a gentle brushing – as is my want that time of night – or I moan at him until I do get my brushing.
No, I am NOT a control freak! Just believe in maintaining my quality of living.

Anyway, I was staring at something in the dark which was not quite right.
‘Mole hills’, Fart said.
‘Nope, not,’ I said.

Just then, another molehill ran out of the dark and the two of them ran off into the dark.

Our bouncers are back with the warmer weather.

I stood up, put my tail in the air and pranced inside, giggling.
‘Energetic mole hills, Fart?’ - Silly little man!

MEDICINAL REQUIREMENTS

Mummsy says I should let fart do my medicinal requirements from the back.

HAAAAAAAH.

Mummsy he cannot even get it right from the front! Silly, silly little man!

The BIG news of the week is that Fart and mummsy have become grand parents x 2. Gwill, fart's son is becomming a daddy. Gwill and his GORGEEEEEOUS lady are going to have a baby. COOOOOLLLL BANANAS, HEY?

How are all my FANS?

Speaking kitty Kat means that I am understood in Russian, Chinese, Malayan, Greek, Norwegian, American and English. Most Seouf Efrikans can also understand me.

Be happy and CHILLLLLLLLAXXXXXXX

COW CALVES

Fart came back, put me on his lap and showed me some pictures of cow calves’s. (On the right – two of them).
COW calves’s? The only calves’s I know are human ones! Ones that hang from the knees and which stop the foots going walk about on their own.

AND, the human ones are in so many colours and shapes with bruises and fur on them they look ‘AAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH’. Puke ... fur balls. Know what I mean?
So when I saw these calves’s – well...my old heart just turned to butter. Remember when I was a little poo like these, mummsy? AHHHHHH cute.
MUCH better than human calves’s`

By the way Fart – butter is that yellow stuff you sauté TROUT,...you know TROUT. Well trouts is what you sauté in butter. T-R-O-U-T.

All together now – come on my fans around the world – One and two and three

Throw in the trout...
...Fart.
Throw in the trout.
Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh
Throw in the TROUT
Fart. Throw in the trout.

That is what I have my worldwide fan base for – to ensure that fart maintains my standard of living.

I think I might go into poli-tics. That means fowl on one day and trout on the next. Get it poli ... parrot! HAR HAR HAR.

So, what now, I get bored after sing alongs ... think I am going to go and kick fart’s glass of wine over. He’s sitting on the porch watching the sun set over the snow clad peaks of the Drakensberg ... and mopping. He has lovely legs and calves’s though, has our fart ... for a silly little man! More Har har’s.
It was minus 13 degrees this morning. So fart told me ... I was still in bed at mid-day. I believe anything he says at 5 o’clock in the morning. His problem, not mine. As long as my breakfast is there ON TIME, at the END OF THE BED, next to the BOWL OF MILK. ARE YOU LISTENING FART!!

MEDICINE THROW AROUND

Fart gave me my medicine today.

YEEEP.

It is all over the bed, my bib and my ears. I managed to get a little bit in my mouth though.

I am not going to say anymore than that!

have a lovely evening all my fans.

CHILLAX MUMMSY - CHILLAX

That means chill out and relax (New ‘SUNSANDZI’ word – sunsandzi is the marketing name for our province). Mummsy is back home after an interesting week in Venice with the man she looks after.
The best part is when he went walk about on his own. Mummsy was in a tiz and could not find him. You can imagine. Anyway, they had the whole hotel and police looking for him. He was brought back by the police in their boat at 2 o’clock in the morning. ‘Ohhhh I had a lovely time – I saw the other side of Venice!’ Now the ‘other side’ can be interpreted in different ways – but he is a nice man so he is talking about that side of the blue fish pond as against this side of the blue fish pond.
Anyway, ‘man beating is illegal’ in Venice so mummsy just gave him a ‘welcome home cuddle’, and a LITTLE klap across the back of the head.
But she is back in England now. ASCOT actually. ACTUWALLY.
WE LUV OUR MUMMSY – 4EVA

MUMMSY TO VENICE WITH OUR LOVE

Auntie Snow is still in the mountains, but all the snow around the lodge has gone. Mrs Frost still hanging around on the grass. Her step sister Vera Cold is in the air and their cousin Mistey Airs floating through the forest trees and swirling over the mountain streams.

Mummsy is off to Venice today. I hope the boats all float. Mummsy and I have a major ‘mother and daughter’ problem with water and swimming! fart says mummsy must be careful of those smoothie Italian types - they can't play rugby anyway.

Yesterday we had eighteen huge Eland walk passed the lodge. Their hoof prints are the same size as my head. 'AAAAARGh'
Two little buck also walked passed yesterday evening. Beautiful they were.

The mousebirdsies have appeared from somewhere.

I think they have invited their in-laws from Durban to see the mountain snow.

ALL the human breed arrived with their litter this week-end to play in the snow and make a nuisance of themselves with their erratic driving.

Fart! Tell them to take the er’rat’ics back to Durban. We got our little mouses here and do not need the er’rat’ics as well. The rats is for Farts in bad moods and we do not need lots of them.

KITTY KATS ROOOOL

Is your kitty kat constantly scratching your doors, sharpening her claws on your furniture or inspecting your cupboards?

It is time to wash the doors, change the furniture and clean out your cupboards. Cats are very particular about the contents of their homes.

Does she/him walk away from you when you try and pick him/her up?
THIS is a major problem. Have a bath or change your deodorant. Believe me – your partner is trying to tell you something others of your species will soon be avoiding you for.

For nineteen years fart has tried to rid me of some of my ‘bad habits’. But, in the end it is he who has changed – had to! The power of the feline mind, and strength of basic belief, that we are right overcomes all.

So, your feline partner is carrying out retaliatory exercises against you and your environment?
Remove the cause of the poor, poor, poor kitty’s dilemma.
Believe me you will all be much happier in the long run.

ROOOOOOOL CATS!!

“Where’s the FRESH trout, fart. No vino for you tonight unless it is in front of me, presented as I like it on a warm plate in five minutes.”
Nineteen years ago he was a normal idiot human. But slowly (very slowly) he has learnt that we are the superior species.

Ohhhh the power.

ROOOL CATS

SOOTIE FAME

We, fart and I were looking at the stats, to see how the fan base was going. We have regular visits from places that I did not know were there. Brazil, Spain, Russia, Israel, Canada, Netherlands, Luxembourg, Sweden, Switzerland, Greece, Malaysia, India, Japan, Australia, New Zealand, England, South Africa, Tanzania, Kenya.

Amazing!!!
I have told fart that if he hangs around I will make him famous. But he has to walk three steps behind me for the first couple’a years.

Don’t you just love him. Silly little man – SLAVE. He he he!
It would be nice to have some comments from out there that I can show my other fans. You might become as famous as me, you never know. Carpe diem – that means ‘Seize the day’ by the way.
I am going to go and wallow in my sunny bed now and have a lick ‘n sleep.

SAD FART - HAPPY FART - NO FART?

Ohhh dear! Fart’s chin is on the deck. He had an email from his lovely daughter, Siwan and she said,
“I was just catching up on Sootie shack and had a big moment of how it used to be before we were in each others lives. How I used to wonder what you were like and what it would be like to know you. Well now I know what your like (funny and a bit crazy!) and I totally love it!”
He will perk up though, cause he loves her.

The previous time fart saw his son and daughter was 35 years ago. They were both babies in arms. That is what Siwan is talking about in the quote above.
Siwan, fart’s son Gwilym, and fart’s Grandson, Hedd, came out to South Africa last year. Siwan, Gwil and Hedd are in the photos below.
FART WISHED HE COULD PUT THEM ON TOP PERMANENTLY - BUT THE FOUNDATION IS FOREVER STRONG.

On a brighter note.
Living with fart it has to be that way – he just keeps going man...tiring sometimes.
I think he is going for a name change!
Yep, he is eating caraway seeds and drinking caraway herbal tea.
You know what caraway does?
It stops flatulence!

Life won’t be the same.

SELECTIVE HEARING FOR THE AGED

Fart has just told me that the best time of day is between 6 and 7 o’clock, in the morning, cause then he starts his writing. Then he had a little think and said, ‘No I lie,’ (so what’s new fart?) ‘4 P.M. is the best time, cause it is only 1 hour to a glass of wine time!’
I prefer a warm glass of milk – out of my bowl which is next to the TROUT DISH. You get that fart?
I think he gets selective hearing when I speak.

SOOTIES FLASH FICTION

I HAVE JUST WRITTEN FOUR PIECES OF FLASH FICTION TO SHOW FART THAT THERE ARE OTHERS WHO PART TAKE IN THE ART

THE CAT AND THE DOG
The dog has a bloody nose,
The feline cat wears red nail polish

THE CAT AND THE CANARY
Yellow feathers everywhere.

THE CAT AND THE MOUSE
See the cat!
'!!!'

THE CAT AND THE HUMAN MALE
Intelligent conversation overides all other.
PURRRRRRRRRRR

THE MAKE MUMMSY HAPPY CHANT

If ever you are feeling down – I have invented the perfect chant.

It goes like this

We wuv sootie

CLAP YOUR PAWS HERE

we wuv sootie
we wuv sootie

CLAP YOUR PAWS HERE
AND WIGGLE YOUR BUM

we wuv sootie
we wuv sootie
we wuv sootie

WHISTLE THROUGH THE GAP IN YOUR FRONT TEETH HERE
THEN RUN AROUND IN CIRCLES TRYING TO CATCH YOUR TAIL THREE TIMES

THEN ANSWER YOURSELF WITH THE SAME CHANT AS ABOVE.

I taught the Fart this chant.
Whenever he is finished (AND I mean finished), just one session, he is on his back, knackered and giggling to himself between wheezies.

Try and if you have any problems or comments – send them to me.

MORE FARTS

I wandered through to the porch yesterday afternoon, after my extended lunchtime nap.
Fart was sitting on the floor in the sun, reading a magazine. I walked over and sat on the page he was reading – as us kitty kats do!

He looked at me ... I looked at him.
‘Uhhhhm!!! Brushing is it?’ he said – the staring stand-off was getting through to him. He is a very deep specimen is our fart!! It takes forever before your stare reflects off anything inside and bounces back. You know...like radar?

Whilst brushing my gorgeous bod he said, ‘I have been looking at getting you an electric warm blanket through mail order.'
The electric warm blanket sounded like fresh trout ... and then the mail order bit sunk in.
‘No!’ I thpat at him, ‘I have you to contend with. And one male is enough. Do not, I repeat do not order any more males.’

I had to go and lie down for a while – the shock!
Ohhhhhhhhhh, my head hurts!

AFRICAN HOOPOO BIRDSES AND CAT BUMS

This morning Fart is getting a bit ahead of himself.

I, arose around 10:00 a.m. - as is my want, and wandered through into the lounge, yarning – getting the sleep out of my mouff. As is my want.

Fart, all cheerful at his computer, said “Ohh hello, you’re up then. There’s a little African Hoopoo bird in the garden, who is working away like a sewing machine gathering worms for her family. And you know what? She has a bum wobble just like you.”

“!!!” was my instant response.

I went out into the frrreeezzzing cold. There was this short legged bird, with a brown chest and zebra colours painted on her wings. AND a silly little hat stuck on the font of its head. It was impersonating a sewing machine, by sticking its long beak in and out of the ground very quickly.
It's bum was wobbling, I admit. But Hoopie, I do not have feathers in my tail, I have an elegant tail and fury paws - and my legs are at least six inches long.

Anything for attention – these African types

AND, listen Fart, Freddie used to catch these sewing machine birds in Tanzania.

Really, I don’t know! I have to live with him – humour, humour, humour!

MOUSEBIRDS?

Last week it was ponds and lakes covered in their winter sheets with blue fish.
Well this week's discovery crowns everything.

Us kitty kats have been around for a long, long, long time.
Even the silly little Egyptian princesses were accepted by us.
THAT - is a long time.

Now this!

I was sitting on the porch the other day allowing the fart to brush and comb me.
(It brings him so much pleasure - silly little man).

There were a lot of birds flapping around in the hedge. Chasing each other, chirruping and generally being utterly immature.

“Ohhh look at all those mousebirds”, Fart said.

I was shocked out of my reverie!
Mousebirds! I thought - MOUSEBIRDS!

Now as I have said, us kitties have been around for jonks.

I now mouses and I know birds. But the same in the same chassis. WELL, I MEAN.

But as fart always says - we have to take the positive out of this.

Good thing about mouses and birdses being combined is the dietary aspect. Fowl and beef. Magic.
Also the exercise aspect. You know us cats take it easy whenever we can – like any human being!

So now we can get all out nutrition in one meal. Absolutely brilliant.

Thank you God for doing that for us humble, humble, humble (he he he) kitty kats.

WHAT HAPPENS TO THE FISH

I learnt something new today. Even at 19 years young, we still learn!

Did you know that ponds and lakes sleep with sheets on in winter. In winter, I sleep inside with as many blankets and lap cuddles as possible.

I learnt about this problem ponds and lakes have when I went out this morning to have a drink of water from our fish pond. There was a solid ‘stuff’ on top. Fart called it an ice sheet – he says it happens in very cold times and I must be careful because my tongue could stick to it.
Bostick ice?

What happens to the fish? Shame - blue fish

Stay near your fire and keep your tongue in.

MOVING HOUSE

I have handed in my notice.
Hence the reason for my not writing so often on this blog.
I know so many, many people would give their eyeteeth to live in such a setting under such circumstances.

However, I resigned from full time employment nearly four years ago to write, and that is what I am not doing enough

The house I am in is ideal for writing and when I do write, the words flow. Such peace and quiet with magnificent views. Walks through forests, grasslands, along rivers and dams. Surrounded by all types of game.

The worry of the farm at the back of my mind is having an effect.
My coaching program is growing daily and I am not able to focus my attention on those people who have paid me to assist them. I have been asked to undertake a major project, and then there are my projects that are not moving forward.

The move does not worry me, personally. I have travelled enough and know what is happening.
However, poor old Soot will be upset. Kitty cats can sense these things and they undergo the same stress levels as humans. She is an old lady, and that concerns me. Lots of TLC and brushings will be needed. As well as explanations and discussions.
We do discuss everything. I tell her if I am going out and where I am going and when I will be back.

So we are moving - not far. I have my eye on a couple of places. Farms and in the countryside with views of the berg.
However, the actual move will only be in four months time.

THOMBILI, OUR VERVET MONKEY BROTHER

The children held Thombili tightly around his tiny little throat. They told Mummsy that if she did not give them the money they asked, they would take the baby vervet monkey to the laboratory where they did tests on monkeys.

Mummsy and Fart paid for the little guy, who had been taken from his parents in the foothill forests of Mount Meru.
He was a petrified, shivering little guy. He clung to our Mummies’ blouse, looking like a small pink broach.
We had to feed him with an eyedropper at first. As he got stronger and bigger we fed him with mashed bananas and milk.
He grew and between him and the ducks – who pooped everywhere - became our favourite – sometimes. When he was bored he would pester our ducks and us. But he was our brother, so we humoured him.

He would never let Mummsy out of his sight, and sitting on her shoulders would cling to her long hair wherever she went.
We never put a chain or a nappy on him. He had free reign of the house. At night he would sleep under the mosquito net with Mummsy and fart.
Early in the mornings at ‘monkey get up time’, he would bounce around on mummsy and fart, swinging on the net until he was let out. He would sit on the windowsill, watching the sun come up over the Massai plains, gently chirruping and twisting his tiny hands in his lap – or scratching his bum.
When he tired of watching the sun, ‘the morning chase’ - our worst time. Cats are not morning people. We were chased around the cottage; pulled and pestered from room to room, over and under the furniture.
In the afternoons Mummsy would sit in the garden and read. Thombili would jump from branch to branch in the tree over her head. Sometimes he would do this with a flower in his mouth, sucking the nectar from it! When he needed a cuddle, he would drop straight onto Mummsy’s lap – from about ten feet. Immediate Mummsy heart attack! But Thombili would happily chortle away as he cuddled into her neck.
During the day when Mummsy and fart were at work Thombili would eat all the candles and anything else that was chewable. When they came home the house would be a mess of candle wax, flower petals and cats hiding in cupboards and under beds.
As he got older, he would sit on top of the high wall which surrounded the cottage, and look out over the coffee plantations of Mount Meru. We always wondered what was going through his little mind and felt sorry for him.
When we moved back to South Africa, Mummsy and Fart decided that we could not take him with us and we had to have him adopted.
A tour leader friend smuggled Thombili into Kenya to friend of hers who lived on a farm in Mombasa.
The last we heard was that Thombili would not let his new Mummsy alone. Troops of vervet monkeys passed through the banana and Papua trees every day. Then one day, the Mummsy adopted a little girl vervet monkey.
You must remember that Thombili, and the other adopted girl monkey, had never been associated with another vervet monkey.
As soon as Thombili and the little girl monkey saw each other, they rushed together and clasped each other tightly, like long lost friends - as monkeys do.
They stayed like that for over two hours and would not move far away from each other. Always clasping each other, grooming one another and chortling away happily. The two would sit on the kitchen windowsill and watch the troops pass by.

Then one day a vervet troop arrived, and saw the two sitting on the windowsill. They seemed to take an interest in the two. When the troop moved on the two lovers went with them.
Apparently the two lovers stop by on the windowsill for snacks of banana and pawpaw whenever they pass by – just to say hello to their human Mummsy.
This is a true story.

BRITISH AIRWAYS BEAUTY MEETS HOTELIER

In 1983, a beautiful British lady came to South Africa on holiday with her parents.
After booking into the Four Seasons hotel in Durban, they were unsure of what to do for the rest of the evening. The lady approached the manager who was standing in the foyer, and asked his advice.
There was an immediate attraction between the two.

The manager made a few suggestions, as to what entertainment there was along the Durban beachfront, and bid them a good evening.
Throughout that week, the two greeted each other on passing. One evening the manager was sitting at the back of the Persian Room ladies bar at his hotel listening to the music and winding down after his busy day. The lady and her parents were sitting at a table in the front of the room, listening to the band. The lady turned and waved, and shortly the two were sitting together having a drink.
Later that evening, once he had closed up the daily operations, the manager and the lady went out for a drink at the Cloud Nine Bar at another beachfront hotel. Conversation was polite and friendly, with ‘I think you are my type of man/woman’ sparks flickering brightly between the two.
At the end of the evening, whilst walking the lady back to his hotel, the handsome manager asked the beautiful lady if she would join him for dinner the following evening. She readily accepted the date, arrangements were made and they bid each other good night. No kisses yet, even!

The following evening the couple met in the Four Seasons Hotel foyer. The beautiful lady was dressed in the most becoming green dress, matching her eyes and sensually contrasting with her long, soft auburn locks. The sun-tanned manager, blonde hair brushed carefully, was casually dressed in slacks and pale blue shirt to match his startling blue eyes.

The dinner, at the famous smorgasbord of the exclusive Edward hotel, was candle lit and accompanied by romantic music, good wine and lots of meaningful eye play.
At one point during the meal during a lapse in their absorbing conversation, and still a little uneasy in each other’s company, the manager said, “When we get married are we going to have boys or girls?”
Seeing that the beautiful lady was taken aback, the manager said, "Don’t worry, I was only joking.”
The meal continued in a happy lighthearted manner - when the beautiful lady looked into the hotel managers blue eyes and asked, “Was that a proposal of marriage?”
The manager looking at her stuttered, “Yes.”
And, that is how my beautiful Mummsy and the old fart were engaged to be married. On the second night of knowing each other - I do not know who the fastest operator is!
Am I not just the luckiest kitty cat for having such amazing parents? Twenty-eight years later, they are still madly in love with each other.

TALKING TO PLANTS

Do you talk to flowers and vegetables, to encourage growth?

I do.

I also swear and curse at the weeds to get rid of them. But I think they are all deaf.

FIRE BREAKS AND WINTER GAME

Last week, snow on our mountains and severe frosts. This week the farmers have started our main winter burning. These burns will generate new, fresG growth when our rains arrive. They also reduce the danger of run-away fires during our dry winter months.
Unfortunately we have disturbed some of the lairs of deer and other animals. However they move into the forest at night. During the day these animals will move to grasslands that are not burnt.

But there are also the little guys. Grasshoppers, in their thousands take flight and attract flocks of Pied starlings, African Hoopoos and even our resident crows join in the feast.
There is good and bad from these burns, although the good far outweighs the bad.
In the Bushman’s Nek valley, which runs parallel to ours on the other side of Garden Castle Peak, they had three run away fires yesterday. Frightening when you see the damage that one fire can cause.

I remember seeing the devestation and death in the Lobo area of the Serengeti in the 1990’s when a drunk camper fell asleep with a lit cigarette is his hand. Hundreds of thousands of hectares destroyed in minutes. Animals of all species roasted alive, because they could not escape the inferno.
I do not know what the outcome was of the tourist, but I do know what I would have done with him.
The only good that came out of that was the education of school children. They were visiting the area and saw the devastation as an educational point. They were also able to see the first green tufts of grass and bush breaking through the earth.

The human has this image that we are all knowing and all powerful. Shame on us for that ignorance of which we carry, more than any other species on earth. The power of the internet gives us ample opportunity to see our ignorance and greed first hand. But we choose to ignore it, or are too ignorant to take note of the fact.

Sootie has had the honour of being visited by two bouncers (bush hares) over the last few days. We also find deer droppings around the house in the mornings. Big poo, little poo and poo with points on. Them is the baboon ones!

SOOTIES BIRTHDAY

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SOOTIE
Today Soot is having FRESH BERG TROUT for her birthday dinner. She has turned 19 years old is nearly a fifth of a century old!

Our girl, as usual, is on the comfiest chair in the lounge, (code named 'Sootie's chair). She is having a body wash before dinner is served in front of a lovely mountain log fire.

She is an absolute love. FOREVER SOOTIE

STOCK THIEVES

I have been a bit busy the last week with various projects and surprise calls by people.
Monday and Tuesday I had to go out and cut firewood for the week; part of the fun side of living in the countryside.
And then on Wednesday we had very cold weather with the berg winds blowing cold Cape weather up from the south and covering the berg in snow. All day we could see the snow falling on the mountains, just south of us, a bitter day.
That night bought more bitterness for our two neighbours.
The farm caretaker on the north had five cattle stolen and the farmer to our south east had eleven stolen. Both these people are black people who rely on their cattle as their family wealth. A theft like this would have cleared their futures out completely. It takes years for them to accumulate their small herds. The cattle thieves are from Lesotho, which is less than twenty kilometres from here, on the other side of the mountains.
On Friday morning I had a phone call from the community watch. Cattle thieves from Lesotho have taken 156 head of stock in this area alone, since the beginning of the month. I have been asked to write an article for the newspapers that will embarrass the government. They make so many promises and do nothing. These thieves have bankrupted large farmers as well as the smaller guys.
A few months back, further south, 500 of the small holders and farmers got together after the government had done nothing about stock losses.
They went across the international border, into Lesotho, and raided the raiders!
Cattle, goats, sheep and horses were herded back into South Africa. There was a huge international (between the two countries) outcry. But, if the South African government had acted as they promised that would never have happened in the first place.
So look out for the blog. I will be giving the blog name out in the next few days.

The Pot Hole

When the schooling fraternity finally had enough of me, I went walk about. Whilst in Walvis Bay, Namibia I discovered the original pothole.
These potholes were sub-street level, dangerous to drivers and pedestrians, with the ability to destroy you and your car. Much the same as the potholes we have today. The only difference being, that one could join others in getting totally wrecked on the greener variety of pot. I kid you not.

These days if truck fumes or an unroadworthy, overcrowded, speeding taxi driven by an unlicensed, drunk, under age driver with a gun (allegedly) does not get you. The dreaded pothole will.
One needs to have been on a ‘crash course’ in F1 chicane manoeuvres, not to end up with a steering wheel the shape of a pretzel through desperation driving whilst negotiating many roads.

South African potholes have gained world tourism status. Roibeárd Mac Giolla Phádraig, from Ireland, has placed a mention on his famous blog about the ‘big’ hole in Kimberley.
In Sheffield England, a gentleman returned to his vehicle to find that the workers had placed asphalt around the tyre of his car whilst attempting to fill a pothole, in which he had advertently parked.
A Politian, in Hillcrest, is blaming these implosions on the high activity on a breed of alien Nigerian mole, recently smuggled into South Africa. (Allegedly)

In Johannesburg, it is possible to phone the ‘Jo burg Pothole Brigade’! (www.potholebrigade.co.za). Having discovered a pothole, you call them; on arrival they will shove a patch over your hole. If they have been paid that is, bearing in mind that the city of Johannesburg is now bankrupt. This process was developed twenty-five ago in New Zealand and has been used in various countries around the world for the last fifteen years.
According to a representative. Over 13,000 potholes (and counting) have become deceased since August 2010. But disturbingly the potholes have reached such a high population, they are now breeding faster than the brigade can patch them.
They are managing to fill 5,000 potholes per month (with no end in sight). The Brigade would do more, but they are limited, as the spray can only be applied at sub-taxi/construction vehicle speed.


I was thinking, that if the Provincial Roads Department could see its way clear to supply us with our own ‘little pothole kits’ we could, as private tax payers, assist them in rectifying the pothole problem.
We could all have our own little backpacks of road mending materials. We would be supplied with a high visibility jacket and a self-assemble ‘road works ahead’ sign - so people can safely nip out and make temporary repairs to their streets. Obviously, we would need one of those enormous felt-tip permanent marker pens to draw fluorescent lines round the potholes. Ahhh, we could then start ‘inter-municipality pothole’ hopscotch.
I still prefer the original pothole. Everybody was friendly, stoned – without throwing them - and you got what you paid for from the owner who was just as stoned.

Published - Mountain Echo May 2011

A true example of the South African political arena

A woman in a hot air balloon realized she was lost. She lowered her altitude and spotted a man in a boat below.

She shouted to him, "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where I am."

The man consulted his portable GPS and replied, "You're in a hot air balloon, approximately 30 feet above a ground elevation of 2346 feet above sea level. You are at 31 degrees, 14.97 minutes north latitude and 100 degrees, 49.09 minutes west longitude."

She rolled her eyes and said, "You must be a DA supporter!"

"I am," replied the man. "How did you know?"

"Well," answered the balloonist," everything you told me is technically correct, but I have no idea what to do with your information, and I'm still lost. Frankly, you've not been much help to me"

The man smiled and responded, "You must be an ANC Government official"

"I am," replied the balloonist. "How did you know?"

"Well," said the man, "you don't know where you are or where you are going. You've risen to where you are, due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise that you have no idea how to keep, and you expect me to solve your problem. You're in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but, somehow, now it's my fault."

A bit of time

I have been doing quite a bit of writing today. Before the writing, I continued with the instalation of the donkey boiler.

I am putting a donkey boiler in to help cut down on the extortionate electricity bills. I have stripped the bathroom cupboards out and tomorrow I will lay a concrete plinth.

I then managed quite a bit of writing - 3,000 words of free writing.
Then a bit of work on my course booklet for creative writing. Over and above my freelance writing, I coach Creative Writing. This booklet will be handed out with my writing course.

I did a bit of work on the lifesaving book this afternoon. My long term writing project is the research of a book on the 'History and development of Lifesaving in South Africa'.

Then late afternoon I rewarded myself with a walk through the forest and along the river.

Last night we had a light powdering of snow on the higher peaks, and that made for a cold day. Besides the brisk tingly cold, it has been a blustery day which meant long pants, jacket, boots and scarf.

Last night Sootie had poached chicken breast, and this evening she had sirloin steak. Now she is curled up in the coziest chair - where else? - in front of the log fire.

A Diana Krall Cd is playing, candles, good log fire and a glass of Chateau Cardboard 2010. If I could purr - I would.

So if the speed of my modem allows it I might just down load a couple of old photos.

Be happy and lovable.

World's Shortest Story?

"For Sale; Baby shoes. Never worn."
Ernest Hemingway was sitting with writers at the Algonquin Hotel and bet them that he could write a short story in only six words. He won the bet with this clever creation.

An enjoyable added income

Writing is recommended by the medical profession as being highly therapeutic and a stress reducer.
Freelance writing, besides being fun and financially rewarding, does have its advantages.
• It is flexible.
• Work wherever you wish.
• As a self-starter, and reasonably creative, you can earn a welcome flow of extra cash.

Payment varies widely from magazine to magazine. For an 800 word article magazines pay R1,000 – R1,200. Specialist magazines will pay more. Newspapers pay around R600 for an 800 word feature. A well written 2,000 word short story can earn you around R2,000. Fillers and anecdotes can earn you R25, or a complimentary household, food hamper or skin care product.

Do you enjoy cooking, craftwork, pottery, horse riding, mountain biking? Magazines are always looking for original well written articles. Travel magazines are on the lookout for up to date information on walks, birding and places to stay. Your subject and style of writing might be just what the editor is looking for.

Business plans, operations manuals and organisation booklets. Your professional career might have given you the expertise to offer just what a company might need. But, a word of warning! Make sure of your facts. Publications have to be careful. If you submit a badly researched article - besides embarrassing yourself, you could lose a potential customer forever.

There are thousands of publications on the market. When next in a book shop look at the magazines on the shelves. Pick up any magazine and look at the vast array of subjects. A good magazine could include up to thirty or more articles of varying length. And all those editors are looking for content that the reading market will enjoy.

To gain confidence, try the ‘Reader’s Letters’ pages of newspapers and magazines. Many magazines look for small fillers, ‘How to do’ pieces, jokes and funny or unusual photographs. By getting these shorter items published you will gain experience, confidence and build your resume.

Once you feel more confident in your writing, overseas markets should be your next step.

The short story market is highly profitable. Life experiences or a holiday romance – true or imagined - are great money spinners. Overseas publications, with the exchange rates are more lucrative than the local market. A short story published in the U.K. can earn you upwards of R3,000. But read a few back issues of the publication you are targeting so as to get an idea of what they are looking for - length, style and the reader target market.
Another big money spinner is greeting cards. Publishers are always looking for originality.

One of the tricks in being accepted is to submit the right article, at the right time to the right publication.
In my experience, you can write about whatever you wish. And I was taught the best way to achieve that was to ‘sit you’re bum in a chair and write’. Only then will the rewards come.

Published - Mountain Echo April 2011

Where to write?

Some people prefer to write in a room in which they feel comfortable - the lounge, maybe the kitchen, a study or in the garden. Whilst others prefer to write on a freezing cold railway station, empty river barge, rush hour train or noisy shopping centres - ‘on location’.

I look for a setting similar to that of my story, and using the theme of the story I go into ‘free writing’ mode. Free writing allows my hand and mind to combine in a relationship of unlimited imagination.

My hand writes whatever enters my mind. I do not interfere. My senses, imagination and experiences run riot together. There is no editing or changing.
My senses expose what they feel, see, hear and smell. A vivid imagination and life experience stir in their ingredients. The potpourri becomes richer and clearer.
It is easier to weave the story and arouse emotions exposed first hand. Would it not be easier to describe the emotions you feel watching a lamb being born, rather than hearing about it second hand?

Once I feel that I have enough, I close my computer and note book. Yep, I use both. Computer for ‘free writing’ and note book for sudden bullet point flashes.
On my journey home, I will play with ideas. New feelings will be noted immediately, so as not to be lost in the myriad of thoughts, plots and ideas swirling through my mind.

I will then sit in the quiet of my home and write the story. All editing, expanding and changing happens here. Future visits to the area help in making sure that I have the environmental descriptions and sensory feelings I am trying to portray to my audience.

Presently, I am writing a short story on the suicide of a conservationist (game ranger). The setting is in the mountains of Africa. I am using internal monologue genre.

Next to my cottage, a forest covers the lower slopes of a mountain. Last week I walked through the forest to a dam higher up in the slopes. The final path from the forest follows a steep gorge to the dam and is a steep scramble. This will add a frustrating element for my protagonist.

Throughout my walk, my senses were aware of my immediate surroundings. The sounds, smells and how my skin re-acted to the movement and temperature of the breeze.
The day was cold and blustery. Walking through the forest, the sound of the wind blowing through the pine trees was unseemly calming and awakening to my story needs.

I was aware that the frantic mind of my protagonist would not have been aware of these sounds. His focus would be on his suicidal reasonings, and any surrounding movements would more than likely not register on his mind.

I was there. All my senses were caught up in the raw atmosphere in which my protagonist had been living. Why had he made such a drastic decision to end his life?

The steepness of the cliff dropping to green icy waters below. The icy wind buffeting the cliff face. The feelings he would experience sitting alone on a cold, windswept hillside. The cold barrel of the gun, in his hands.

My imagination pulled me into his fall as he pulled the trigger. Those surroundings gave ‘real time emotions’ to the story.

Yesterday I did the walk again. But with a different mindset. That of a carefree mountain walker. A person with his own agenda and thoughts. This walker stops on a ledge and looks out over forest and dam below him. The dam shimmers in the afternoon breeze and he sees the floating corpse.

Where do you prefer to write? At the end of the day it is about personal motivation.

A bit of time

This blog is not about negativity.
BUT, this present ANC government does not have a clue about governance. Self greed and ignorance still continue to bleed our country. The gross mismanagement of our national power supplier, by incompetent people, has seen price rises that are affecting all the people in our beautiful country. Especially those that the new ‘democratic’ government of the last 17 years is meant to be helping.

But hey! We live in Africa. Why should South Africa be any different to the rest of the mess north of our lovely land.

To reduce our extortionate electricity bills I am putting a Kuoni (donkey) boiler into the cottage. (Photo below) I use only pine cones and dead wood which we collect from the forest. I do not cut down trees, not my style. I have stripped out the bathroom cupboards and tomorrow I will lay a concrete plinth.


I managed 3,000 words of free writing today.

Work on my Creative writing booklet progresses. Sometimes this seems to move fairly quickly at other times it drags. This booklet, one of ten, is for my ‘Write Freelance’ coaching course. The booklets will also be for sale on this blog.

My long term writing project, 'History and development of Lifesaving in South Africa' moves along at its own speed. Information from the different lifesaving clubs around South Africa continues to arrive in dribs and drabs.

Late afternoon I rewarded myself with a walk through the forest and along the river.

Last night we had a light powdering of snow on the higher peaks, and that made for a cold day. Besides the brisk tingly cold, it has been a blustery day. This meant long pants, jacket, boots and scarf.

Last night Sootie had poached chicken breast. Poached as in cooked - not illegally shot! This evening she had sirloin steak. Now she is curled up in the cosiest chair - where else? - in front of the log fire.

A Diana Krall CD is playing, candles, good log fire and a glass of Chateau Cardboard 2010. If I could purr - I would.

If the speed of my modem allows, I might just down load a couple of old photos.

Be happy and lovable.

Advice to the writer's cat:

But to return to preventing the writer from getting on with his work. As soon as he sits down at the typewriter, climb into his lap and start the game. Never wait until he has begun or becomes interested in what he is doing, for then your task will be more difficult and you might even suffer the indignity of being thrown out into the garden or shut up in the kitchen. You will learn that it is exactly at the moment when he sits down at the type writer that he is at his weakest and can be most easily put off, for it has taken a tremendous effort for him to bring himself to the point of getting down to the machine.
- Paul Gallico

Mummsy is coming home!!

Sootie and Fart miss mummsy terribly. In fact she is coming home on holiday tomorrow – 5th May 2011.
PARTY!!!
Ohhh and TROUT!