AUGUST.......THE MONTH OF HIGH WINDS IN THE DESERT.
Firstly and most importantly,we are all now declared free of SVINUS FLUEUS..so you must feel free to read this missive without covering your noses and mouths!
The garden...to my horror..The weeds in my new border are clearly made of sterling stuff, and seem not to have been deterred by the extreme cold that we suffered through June and July. Conversely our absence seems to have generated a state of complete inertia in the gardeners.....Skelm and his side kick Villam have been noticeable by their absence..so I have set to the new border with small fork and murderous intentions directed towards the weeds. It has taken me much of the week to reclaim the border again, and I now have a queue of plants lined up on the patio waiting to be planted. This has spurred me onwards in the thankless task of weeding, as I will not allow myself to plant ,until the ground is suitably clear...... being so close to the front door...means that I can crank up my iPod, having chosen music or one of my talking books to shriek out at me .
Talking books,pro`s and con`s...brilliant for travelling purposes, however...I now realise that a certain part of the entire reading experience, has to do with possession, [well at least for me it has] a book is a tangible object ,so that names and dates can be written [respectfully inside] notes can be added to margins, once read, they can be placed on a bookshelf,re read, dipped into, passed on, whatever. Talking books lack this rather vital physical quality; they sit in your iPod library fiercely protected by copy write. With Talking books...You simply get none of the swirling, chocolaty pleasure of possession.
Tommy started to listen to the Rosetta Key by William Dietrich, and was thoroughly enjoying it [ like me ,he wasn’t hugely partial to the American narrator..but since the hero IS American we both forgave!],but there was no way that he could take it home with him to complete, the resolution is of course for him to go and buy a copy or to download his own version, but it breaks the flow.
On the long flight to UK,I listened to Carlos Ruiz Zafon`s The Angels Game..Read by Dan Stephens..Completely spellbinding, the most beautifully written and translated book..Something of the gothic horror about it..But nevertheless wonderful, perhaps one of the books I have most enjoyed for a very long time. I am now reading The Shadow of the Wind by the same author, which is just as quirky, if a little less bold than “Angels game”, but nevertheless excellent.
Weirdly...the experience of listening to a book being read, reminded me of being very little, when we used to curl up with my Mum on the sofa after lunch , having fought over who was going to sit in her “hole”..[the crook of her legs where she lay on her side on the sofa],we would settle and listen to a story being read on the radio for an hour or so.
I discovered that listening to a book being read is an extraordinary pleasure, and one that I had almost lost the ability to indulge in... it is totally unlike reading a book, as one is not outwardly proactive in any way..Simply consuming the words and allowing ones imagination to run riot.
I did try an experiment at the farm, and whilst I was painting, I turned a talking book on to play. Impossible...just couldn’t do both things at the same time.....Perhaps it uses the same creative part of the brain!
Anyway.I have, as always returned with an army of real books to read, and am trying to find some time to start another before I finish “The Shadow.”
My new computer...I have been surviving using Little’s very basic lap top for the past 10 months...and thanks to Bossy, this “all singing all dancing” piece of equipment ,has now arrived and is now dragging me through my I.T paces. The mammoth task of removing all the photos that I have taken since our arrival, last September is testing my patience and after a full week I`m still only on Jan 09! I have been very distracted by some of the pictures in my collection.Viewing certain large folders in an altogether different light as I edit them..so I have been playing with the new bits in my computer..here are some of the results.
The Zimbabwean Z100 trillion dollar note is used as wallpaper
I have begun to access some very interesting and inspiring art and design forums here in SA, and have been reading about a design group : TBWA/Hunt/Lascaris in Cape Town, who have just won two highly influential International awards for a recent campaign they devised to promote “The Zimbabwean”...a newspaper[as the name suggests originally from Zimbabwe]....their brief was to raise awareness and increase its readership. The Mugabe regime has destroyed Zimbabwe. It has presided over the brutal oppression of the opposition, a cholera crisis, massive food shortages and the total collapse of their economy. Furthermore anyone brave enough to report this has been bullied beaten and driven into exile. One such group is "The Zimbabwean Newspaper". However not content with having hounded these journalists out, the regime has slapped an import "luxury" duty of over 55% on the paper, which makes the paper unaffordable for the average Zimbabwean. In order to subsidise the paper they need to sell it in England and South Africa, to raise foreign currency.
The design group chose one of the most eloquent symbols of Zimbabwe’s collapse.... the Z$100 trillion dollar note, on which to base the campaign.
The note cannot buy anything, not even a loaf of bread and certainly not any adverising, but it can become the advertising. it can be a powerful reminder of Zimbabwe’s plight and the need to hold someone accountable.
I have come to some resolution over the very odd picture of the peonies “ Amplus Quam Vitae” that was completed shortly before we left for England..., and have decided that it is a physical response to the feeling of being given a spiritual kick up the rump ...pushing me on to start my painting again.... my Mum! She loved peonies.
Onwards towards the semi abstract where I am far more at home.
My attention has been grabbed by the many traditional and the contemporary images of this countries tribal heritage.
I came across these stunning images at : http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-516490/Out-Africa-The-incredible-tribal-fashion-inspired-Mother-Nature.html .
Language...Timothy!!!
Can anyone remember that TV programme: “Sorry” with Ronnie Corbett playing Timothy Lumsden......, the series was actually filmed in Wallingford. Corbett played a 40 ish librarian, who still lives at home with his domineering mother Phyllis and henpecked father Sydney. Although quite shy around women, Timothy longs to find love and leave home, but Phyllis is always aghast at the idea, and constantly manipulates her son into staying at home. When Corbet became frustrated and erred on the side of bad language... his appalling mother would Shriek...”LANGUAGE TIMOTHY”.
..well I was reminded of “Sorry “the other night.
We had asked Nikki and Magda, out to supper in order to celebrate Magdas birthday. Bossy had lived up to his name throughout the early evening and was driving me to distraction, so that by the time we reached Magda..I was already very close to throttling him. When he detects the signs, that I am on the verge of murder.., instead of taking heed...he does the reverse and he usually fans the flames.. he did not disappoint this evening.
Arriving at Magda and Nikkies, we found that Nikki had only just come in and still wanted to shower before going out...Bossy suggested that Magda and I go ahead, and that they follow, which we were both very happy to do, but Bossy was most insistent that I should give him a cigarette lighter as he did not have one........”No “, I replied...”I have explained three times already, that I lost mine somewhere today”....unperturbed he asked if I could then light him a cigarette in the car before I drove off...huffing and puffing I belligerently pressed the car lighter...but it refused to warm....nevertheless and somewhat defiantly I handed the very cool implement to him. Inevitably he let out a tirade of complaints ......so being the shrew that I am...I suggested he rub two sticks together, waved cheerily and put my foot on the accelerator and screeched out of the driveway with Magda hanging on for dear life...as we pulled onto the main road, I could hear his shrieks of fury ....and in a very unladylike fashion I shrieked back something equally rude...to which Magda said.”...Language Dawn...Language”...in her most teacherly voice which reminded me so much of very scary Phyllis in Sorry.
...she was actually very tickled, as she always is by Bossy and my, mostly friendly banter...but told me that she felt that living in Kakamas ,amongst all the burly farmers was doing me no good at all.. indeed she feels that I am becoming too KAKAMANIAN...how I LOVE this term.. and have decided it needs to be used regularly....Henceforth I shall subtitle this blog... THE KAKAMANIAN.
Jessie has now installed herself at St Richards in Chichester [When last we spoke, she was caught in a maze of hospital corridors ,trying to navigate her way homewards..without success..] and Tommy back into the swing of work and training at Henley ,with Finn hard at work earning enough cash to see him through his final year at Newcastle and with Little back at school in Cape Town , I am determined not to indulge any sense of loss, and have been busy with a number of projects .
The garden...to my horror..The weeds in my new border are clearly made of sterling stuff, and seem not to have been deterred by the extreme cold that we suffered through June and July. Conversely our absence seems to have generated a state of complete inertia in the gardeners.....Skelm and his side kick Villam have been noticeable by their absence..so I have set to the new border with small fork and murderous intentions directed towards the weeds. It has taken me much of the week to reclaim the border again, and I now have a queue of plants lined up on the patio waiting to be planted. This has spurred me onwards in the thankless task of weeding, as I will not allow myself to plant ,until the ground is suitably clear...... being so close to the front door...means that I can crank up my iPod, having chosen music or one of my talking books to shriek out at me .
Talking books,pro`s and con`s...brilliant for travelling purposes, however...I now realise that a certain part of the entire reading experience, has to do with possession, [well at least for me it has] a book is a tangible object ,so that names and dates can be written [respectfully inside] notes can be added to margins, once read, they can be placed on a bookshelf,re read, dipped into, passed on, whatever. Talking books lack this rather vital physical quality; they sit in your iPod library fiercely protected by copy write. With Talking books...You simply get none of the swirling, chocolaty pleasure of possession.
Tommy started to listen to the Rosetta Key by William Dietrich, and was thoroughly enjoying it [ like me ,he wasn’t hugely partial to the American narrator..but since the hero IS American we both forgave!],but there was no way that he could take it home with him to complete, the resolution is of course for him to go and buy a copy or to download his own version, but it breaks the flow.
On the long flight to UK,I listened to Carlos Ruiz Zafon`s The Angels Game..Read by Dan Stephens..Completely spellbinding, the most beautifully written and translated book..Something of the gothic horror about it..But nevertheless wonderful, perhaps one of the books I have most enjoyed for a very long time. I am now reading The Shadow of the Wind by the same author, which is just as quirky, if a little less bold than “Angels game”, but nevertheless excellent.
Weirdly...the experience of listening to a book being read, reminded me of being very little, when we used to curl up with my Mum on the sofa after lunch , having fought over who was going to sit in her “hole”..[the crook of her legs where she lay on her side on the sofa],we would settle and listen to a story being read on the radio for an hour or so.
I discovered that listening to a book being read is an extraordinary pleasure, and one that I had almost lost the ability to indulge in... it is totally unlike reading a book, as one is not outwardly proactive in any way..Simply consuming the words and allowing ones imagination to run riot.
I did try an experiment at the farm, and whilst I was painting, I turned a talking book on to play. Impossible...just couldn’t do both things at the same time.....Perhaps it uses the same creative part of the brain!
Anyway.I have, as always returned with an army of real books to read, and am trying to find some time to start another before I finish “The Shadow.”
My new computer...I have been surviving using Little’s very basic lap top for the past 10 months...and thanks to Bossy, this “all singing all dancing” piece of equipment ,has now arrived and is now dragging me through my I.T paces. The mammoth task of removing all the photos that I have taken since our arrival, last September is testing my patience and after a full week I`m still only on Jan 09! I have been very distracted by some of the pictures in my collection.Viewing certain large folders in an altogether different light as I edit them..so I have been playing with the new bits in my computer..here are some of the results.
The Zimbabwean Z100 trillion dollar note is used as wallpaperI have begun to access some very interesting and inspiring art and design forums here in SA, and have been reading about a design group : TBWA/Hunt/Lascaris in Cape Town, who have just won two highly influential International awards for a recent campaign they devised to promote “The Zimbabwean”...a newspaper[as the name suggests originally from Zimbabwe]....their brief was to raise awareness and increase its readership. The Mugabe regime has destroyed Zimbabwe. It has presided over the brutal oppression of the opposition, a cholera crisis, massive food shortages and the total collapse of their economy. Furthermore anyone brave enough to report this has been bullied beaten and driven into exile. One such group is "The Zimbabwean Newspaper". However not content with having hounded these journalists out, the regime has slapped an import "luxury" duty of over 55% on the paper, which makes the paper unaffordable for the average Zimbabwean. In order to subsidise the paper they need to sell it in England and South Africa, to raise foreign currency.
The design group chose one of the most eloquent symbols of Zimbabwe’s collapse.... the Z$100 trillion dollar note, on which to base the campaign.
The note cannot buy anything, not even a loaf of bread and certainly not any adverising, but it can become the advertising. it can be a powerful reminder of Zimbabwe’s plight and the need to hold someone accountable.
Art: Yes I`m at it again, but the result of my all my thinking and planning has.. as always...produced unexpected results, still very much at sketching stage ,so not a great deal to show ..But I AM actively working again. Have a look at beezy Bailey`s work..he is one of my favorite ZA artists.http://www.beezybailey.co.za/
I have come to some resolution over the very odd picture of the peonies “ Amplus Quam Vitae” that was completed shortly before we left for England..., and have decided that it is a physical response to the feeling of being given a spiritual kick up the rump ...pushing me on to start my painting again.... my Mum! She loved peonies.
Onwards towards the semi abstract where I am far more at home.
My attention has been grabbed by the many traditional and the contemporary images of this countries tribal heritage.
I came across these stunning images at : http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-516490/Out-Africa-The-incredible-tribal-fashion-inspired-Mother-Nature.html .Do have a look ,there are more images by the wonderful photographer Hans Silvester (Rapho/Camera Press) from the book Natural Fashion: Tribal Decoration from Africa by Hans Silvester
Language...Timothy!!!Can anyone remember that TV programme: “Sorry” with Ronnie Corbett playing Timothy Lumsden......, the series was actually filmed in Wallingford. Corbett played a 40 ish librarian, who still lives at home with his domineering mother Phyllis and henpecked father Sydney. Although quite shy around women, Timothy longs to find love and leave home, but Phyllis is always aghast at the idea, and constantly manipulates her son into staying at home. When Corbet became frustrated and erred on the side of bad language... his appalling mother would Shriek...”LANGUAGE TIMOTHY”.
..well I was reminded of “Sorry “the other night.
We had asked Nikki and Magda, out to supper in order to celebrate Magdas birthday. Bossy had lived up to his name throughout the early evening and was driving me to distraction, so that by the time we reached Magda..I was already very close to throttling him. When he detects the signs, that I am on the verge of murder.., instead of taking heed...he does the reverse and he usually fans the flames.. he did not disappoint this evening.
Arriving at Magda and Nikkies, we found that Nikki had only just come in and still wanted to shower before going out...Bossy suggested that Magda and I go ahead, and that they follow, which we were both very happy to do, but Bossy was most insistent that I should give him a cigarette lighter as he did not have one........”No “, I replied...”I have explained three times already, that I lost mine somewhere today”....unperturbed he asked if I could then light him a cigarette in the car before I drove off...huffing and puffing I belligerently pressed the car lighter...but it refused to warm....nevertheless and somewhat defiantly I handed the very cool implement to him. Inevitably he let out a tirade of complaints ......so being the shrew that I am...I suggested he rub two sticks together, waved cheerily and put my foot on the accelerator and screeched out of the driveway with Magda hanging on for dear life...as we pulled onto the main road, I could hear his shrieks of fury ....and in a very unladylike fashion I shrieked back something equally rude...to which Magda said.”...Language Dawn...Language”...in her most teacherly voice which reminded me so much of very scary Phyllis in Sorry.
...she was actually very tickled, as she always is by Bossy and my, mostly friendly banter...but told me that she felt that living in Kakamas ,amongst all the burly farmers was doing me no good at all.. indeed she feels that I am becoming too KAKAMANIAN...how I LOVE this term.. and have decided it needs to be used regularly....Henceforth I shall subtitle this blog... THE KAKAMANIAN.
70`s night at Lake Grappa: this event came something of a surprise to me..Bossy having done one of his agreeing to our coming, but having omitted to advise me.
The first I knew of it was on Wednesday evening [at Pizza night!]...Everyone was discussing what they would be wearing..and after Bossy began to recount various items of ancient clothing he felt might be suitable..I was forced to admit, that pre move.I had culled both of our wardrobes of a vast amount of very ancient clothing, using the same criteria of cull for both of us: what had not been worn for the past two years had to go to the charity shops if it was wearable and to the clothing bank if it wasn’t.
Those of you who know Bossy, will be aware that he has the most enormous wardrobe ...and it didn’t surprise me to find that he didn’t notice the absence of 20 black bin liners full of ancient clothing [some of it still in packing boxes, from when he moved to UK about 16 years ago!!] . Have no fear..he still takes up most of our very large walk in wardrobe here!
Being the laid back soul he is, he took the news on the chin and the two of us thought no more about it until Saturday at about 5.00pm [ the bash started at 7.00pm.] .I decided to pay very oblique homage to the 70`s by donning a very pretty cheesecloth top and a pair of white jeans...sadly no cork platforms..so my flatties had to do, along with some fluffing of the tresses and a hair band. I had spent some time lounging in the bath...considering exactly what our friends around here would do with the entire concept of a 70`s party. You all know how much I love our Northern Capetonian friends but they are somewhat old fashioned ,in very many senses, but none more so than in their clothing...in all honesty [and I really don’t mean this unpleasantly]70`s night will really not be too demanding a flip of wardrobe . I reckon we are easily 30 years behind the times here in sleepy Kak as it is.
Bossy disappeared into our walk in wardrobe at .6.45 pm and came out looking like this!
The first I knew of it was on Wednesday evening [at Pizza night!]...Everyone was discussing what they would be wearing..and after Bossy began to recount various items of ancient clothing he felt might be suitable..I was forced to admit, that pre move.I had culled both of our wardrobes of a vast amount of very ancient clothing, using the same criteria of cull for both of us: what had not been worn for the past two years had to go to the charity shops if it was wearable and to the clothing bank if it wasn’t.
Those of you who know Bossy, will be aware that he has the most enormous wardrobe ...and it didn’t surprise me to find that he didn’t notice the absence of 20 black bin liners full of ancient clothing [some of it still in packing boxes, from when he moved to UK about 16 years ago!!] . Have no fear..he still takes up most of our very large walk in wardrobe here!
Being the laid back soul he is, he took the news on the chin and the two of us thought no more about it until Saturday at about 5.00pm [ the bash started at 7.00pm.] .I decided to pay very oblique homage to the 70`s by donning a very pretty cheesecloth top and a pair of white jeans...sadly no cork platforms..so my flatties had to do, along with some fluffing of the tresses and a hair band. I had spent some time lounging in the bath...considering exactly what our friends around here would do with the entire concept of a 70`s party. You all know how much I love our Northern Capetonian friends but they are somewhat old fashioned ,in very many senses, but none more so than in their clothing...in all honesty [and I really don’t mean this unpleasantly]70`s night will really not be too demanding a flip of wardrobe . I reckon we are easily 30 years behind the times here in sleepy Kak as it is.
Bossy disappeared into our walk in wardrobe at .6.45 pm and came out looking like this!
His idea was that if he couldn’t be 70`s he would go bright..and in typical Dutch fashion...Orange was his chosen weapon! Both Bongo and Bee gave us very old fashioned looks as we set forth for the lake.
This a compendulum of photos taken at the bash..The South Africans had embraced the whole 70`s theme by collectively donning wigs..plenty of afro`s being sported in black, blue and red, a plethora of BIG sunglasses. A light spattering of crazy fabric, some tie- die .....BUT everyone with the intention of partying like mad things. I didn’t get onto the dance floor, as they were whirling around doing Langarm to South African 70`s music [ much like 21st century Z.A music!].And it was something of a danger zone...with bodies, wigs and sunglasses flying around [ in an anti clockwise direction] at speed. Marica had made “sloppy Joe`s” for all...a burger bun filled liberally with spicy mince and accompanied by chips...followed by chocolate milk shakes...was that really what the South Africans consumed in the 70`s? Groovy Baby.
By far my favorite photo of the evening is this one of Siegfried..the barman at Lake Grappa..aka Zieggy. 
The dogs are well ,Bongs is still limping and I`m still awaiting a diagnosis from the X-ray referral!!!..He managed to chew up Bossies X Box head set on Wednesday night.. a protest at our leaving him and Bee for the evening! Each time we go out...we scour the house for stuff that he might access in our absence, and each night we return to find he has outwitted us.Several more pairs of my BRAND NEW knickers have been binned.!..gussetless!!!!. To date our Crazy horse sofas are intact....helped somewhat by draping them in a couple of beautiful Nguni skins that Bossy gave me...
I have told Bongo that of he dares eat either the sofas or the Ngunis...his will be the next skin draped over the furniture!
As usual my very fond farewells to all..happy holidays to those that still plan trips away..or are still away ...Mrs Armstrong basking still in Corphew! Mrs Outram in France. Thrilled for Dotti and news of her revised treatement..[thats the power of positive thought for you Dott!!].
Kisses on the lips to all
DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx
No comments:
Post a Comment