Of Coffee With View A View and A Liebster Award

If you were having coffee with me……

An orange coffee mug

If you were having coffee with me, I would be glad that you joined me. We would be sitting on a bench, enjoying the amazing view of Mutare (Zimbabwe) from The Christmas Pass.

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If you were having coffee with me, we would watch the sunset, and see the city come to life as the bright city lights come on.

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The coffee we would be having; lets just say; if coffee was Motor oil; then the coffee in the our cups would be High Octane Fuel for high performance vehicles, its freshly ground and I got it from a coffee plantation, watched it being roasted and ground.

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According to the GPS on my phone the coffee plantation is close to some mountain over there somewhere in Mozambique looking at Zimbabwe or maybe it’s the opposite, in Zim looking at Mozambique, no one there really knows the boundaries and the are no boarders. I guess we might as well as be all boarder jumpers, I did not pack a passport but I definitely crossed boarders.

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If we were having coffee I would tell you that I tried to draw a picture of the scenery but I ended up drawing cars instead. For the longest of time I have been fascinated by really fast performance cars with big bright headlights, big engines and lots of space in the trunks.

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Now though, I am older hopefully wiser, I have come to appreciate the nerdy smart cars, with more brain less brawn those environmentally friendly economic, they get you where you going, with a solid dependability.

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If you were having coffee with me, Subtle Royalty nominated me for the  Liebester Award. Thank you very much, her blog is one of my new fave.

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And these are the questions:

1. White or Black? Why?
Black, because I am just the way I like my coffee strong, hot, sweet, black and oh so sweet. And milk tastes like cow to me.

2. Coffee or tea?
Coffee because it is hard to begin a story with, IF you were having tea with me …..but my friend Sarah can begin an interesting tale over a simple cup of herbal tea.

3. Rain or Sun? Why
Rain. I like to dance in the rain, I love the smell of the damp Earth when it starts to rain, I want to scoop up the Earth and inhale deeply and eat it ….is that weird?

4. What keeps you up at night sometimes?
Watching the lightning and wondering if the flashes in the sky are not aliens taking pictures of us? The universe is too mindbogglingly big for us to be its only inhabitants.

5. Religious?
I believe in a God, looking down in love

6. Something about you that you’re still trying to wrap your head around.
Why do baby’s clothes have pockets? I mean its not like they keep cars, money or even keys.

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“So what do kids have in their pocketses precious?”

7. Worst habit?

I never start doing something I can’t do well, because if it is not worth doing well, then its not worth doing at all.

8. Idealistic or Realist?
I am a perfectionist I guess that makes me idealistic. I dream grand dreams

9. Your best post on my blog. Why? (I’m a little narcissistic sometimes. 😉
This post here… because I just thought about it while sitting in a bus, a random lady started singing out loud, and I realised she is my voice crush, and I remembered the question you asked about having a crush.

10. Do you believe there is that one person out there for you? Like happily ever after and all
I am a dreamer….. my happily ever after walks and talks

Nominees ( and anyone else game enough to drop a response) Feel free to answer the following questions, elaborate and  interpret them how you will.

  1. Tea or coffee
  2. Movie or books
  3. Success or happiness
  4. Strong Roots or Powerful Wings
  5. Pen or pencil
  6. Invisibility or strength
  7. Jam or peanut butter
  8. Push or Pull
  9. Strike back or turn the other cheek
  10. Read or write

If you were having coffee with me I would thank you for joining me a good cup of coffee, a great view and some unexpected WiFi in the middle of nowhere.

Have great week cheers

~B

P.S. My Nominees for the Liebster Award

Rules of the award
A blogger can nominate up to 10 other bloggers, then create a post announcing the nomination. The nominated bloggers should have less than 3,000 followers. The first blogger then asks 10 questions to these bloggers. If the nominated bloggers accept, then they create their own post accepting the nomination & linking back to the first blogger, answering the 10 questions, then nominating more bloggers and asking a new set of questions. The award keeps getting passed on so that readers can discover new blogs

 

 

 

 

 

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Of brown paper packages

Genre: Romance
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I did not hear her come into the room; she was like that, silent, cat-like. She moved with the stealth and feline grace of someone who belonged to a guild of assassins, a small brown paper package of dynamite.

How did it go?” she asked.

I was so startled when I heard her speak, from just a few paces behind me, that for a second I had no idea what she was talking about. “Huh?” I responded turning round to face her.

How did it go? Valentine’s dinner with the princess?

Oh? That… it went well I think, it was not as awkward as the Christmas Ball at all.

Come on, give us the juicy details, or I will use this” she said brandishing her broom like a sword.

It was a longstanding joke between us, threatening me with a broom. You see, it was an old wives tale, that if someone brushed you with a broom, whilst sweeping you would become barren. She usually said it to get me out of the room so she could clean up, I would insist that I would keep out of her way, that I would lift my feet so she could sweep beneath them and she would laugh and shoo me away. She never let me see her clean a room, and normally she stayed out of my way I could go for days without seeing her. She did not come every day, sometimes, the only way I could tell she was around was that, well, everything was tidied up, leave so much as a scrap of paper on the floor and when you come back into the room it was gone.

When she was not being the invisible efficient housekeeper, she taught me dance, proper ballroom dancing. I think she would make a great Dance Instructor, which was her dream; in an impossibly short time, under her tutelage, I had come from having two left feet, to being not too bad at all and oh so modest. When I complimented her, she said I had only learnt fast because I was a natural, but she smiled as she said it.

When she was not teaching me to dance, she was knowledgeable in all things high society; she was like a, walking-talking Google. Those little things you had to know like what spoon to use for which dessert, how to hold a wine glass like a sommelier and drink from it like you know what you are doing. She knew all these things because she had worked for royalty, that’s what she had said when I asked her.

She was asking me, how my Valentine’s dinner had gone, because she had seen me fussing over the Valentine’s card and dinner invitation the princess had sent me; I had admitted to being at a loss as to what to get the princess or what I would say to her, I had only seen her a few times and the only significant amount of time I had spent with the princess was on Christmas Ball, but we had not talked. She had told me the gift was easy, just get her a necklace with her initial as a pendant, simple elegant and of course pure silver naturally, even directed me to silversmith with surprisingly reasonable prices. As for conversation with the princess, she had advised me to be myself, as these royals (as she put them) were surrounded by people who were trained to only tell them what they wanted to hear so they valued, a pure heart and honest talk.

We had practised mock dinners where she would pretend to be the princess and I, well I would be me. She gave me a running commentary of what I had to be doing, such as; “When you meet her compliment her appearance obviously a lot of time and effort will have gone into her appearance. Be a gentleman, pull out a chair for her, and then sit only after she sits, tell her about yourself, ask her about herself, don’t stare at her like that you would freak her out___” I was only staring at her because it was so weird she had the role of princess down pat, after a couple of times so did I, acting naturally.

The details…” She prompted again

“Oh the dinner well, she loved the necklace I got her, she even let me put it around her neck. Conversation was a bit awkward though, I think you were better at being princess than she is, believe or not; her idea of small talk was asking me tonnes of personal questions, some  of which I did not feel inclined to answer. Obviously the evening would not have been complete without dancing, we danced. You dance a whole lot better, she stepped on my toes a couple of times, I stepped on hers once or twice and she kicked me in the shins with her pointy heels, I doubt that was accidental; but all in all fun times hey.”

Sounds like you had fun

Absolutely

Will you see her again?”

Yes, we going on a picnic

Good for you, now shoo I have to sweep in here

Thanks I’ll be out your hair.” I said leaving the room, if I had looked back I would have seen her watching me leave, I did not look back, I whistled as I shut the door.

~

The end

#Blogbattle entry prompt Pure

This story is a continuation from HERE……. In case you are wondering if you missed anything check to get to the story so far:)

~B

 

 

 

Of Coffee With Me

If you were having coffee……..

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If you were having coffee with me, I hope you would call me, before you come, to ask me, if I am home, so that I have enough time to tidy up and pretend I woke up like this. Do not be fooled my locks might look care-free, but each strand is strategically positioned.

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Do Not call me to say, you are on your way, when you haven’t left your house or even taken a bath yet.

Most importantly, Do Not call me when you are already at my gate, to ask me, if I am home, because you wanted to come over for coffee because it would be awkward if I do not want you coming over.

You:Hi B

Me: “Hi you

You:Are you home?

Me: “Yes, why?”

You: “I am at your gate___

Me:….. Constipated face emoji *awkward*

 

If you were having coffee with me, we would have coffee and chill and that is not code for anything, it would be just conversations over a cup of coffee or tea. I am all out of juice, so would have to run to the shops, to get you some, if that’s what you prefer. I would say it’s really no bother at all (but under my breath I would say but I thought this was a coffee date.)

If you are having coffee with me, I’d ask you, if there is standard acceptable Tea to Bread Ratio? You would look at me, like you are doing now, and I would explain; what I mean, is a ratio of let’s say 1 cup of tea to 4 slices of bread…. Is there such a ratio in proper tea drinking etiquette? It should be a fascinating research to do, yes?

You are feeling nice and welcome are you not, “Great” I would say.

If you were having coffee with me, I would ask you “How would you feel if a bunch of people, who said they were your friends, were to invite themselves into your house and proceed to just sit and look at you, never saying a word just sitting there and looking at you, then they leave, they don’t even say goodbye, they just get up and go, how would you feel?

That would be really really creepy, would it not? Yes?

That is how it sorta how it feels like when you click on to my blog, read my posts and then you just leave….. its just …. Creepy. Do not get me wrong, I love the lil visits you pay me and I appreciate that you keep coming back. All I am saying is do not be a strange about it, if you drop by and love what you read, do leave me a message that you have been here and you loved the visit. I tend to check up more on blogs that interact with mine and respond when I comment on theirs, than those who don’t and if one day you wake and you wondering how come I don’t visit yours as much much as I used to……….

Yes, I blog for mainly selfish reasons but having an audience does give me, a nice warm fuzzy feeling, reading what you think about my posts, I get to know more about you, and more about me too, because there is a piece of yourself in every person you meet. Your muse might just be the next person to comment.

So if you having anything to say please feel free to holla, I don’t bite, unless you are a sandwich in my plate, then, oh yeah I will eat you up. Speaking of sandwiches, it is a good thing we no longer have to hunt for food because if we did, I would probably starve, I do not know where sandwiches graze. I try to keep my hunting skills honed by stabbing the frozen chicken in the fridge with a knife before sticking it into the microwave to bleeddefrost.

If you were having coffee with me I would tell you how, just the other day I ran into an old friend I haven’t seen in a while, told me they were a big fan of my blog and I was quite pleased but I low-key wanted to say how come I never see you commenting ok, how bout just clicking the like button, so I know you definitely been there.

If you having coffee with me, I would carelessly leave my diary on the table, open to a heart marked date.IMAG0001 Curiosity would have you asking me if anything special was going on, I would laugh and say “Oh, it’s nothing really, that’s just my birthday” as I scoop up my diary and put it away.

 

 

If you were having coffee with me I would thank you for coming and say please do drop by again, and don’t be a stranger and if you not being strange then don’t stop doing what you doing, I really do love your little visits, don’t be creepy now

Cheers and happy weekend.

~B

 

Of Special Delivery

Genre: Comedy

He walked with the pace of one who had absolutely no rush to get anywhere. He seemed deep in thought, shoulders hunched head bowed over his phone in a question mark posture. He was going through his pone checking if that crazy doctor had not done anything malicious  to his phone.
The phone seemed to be fine, except for an unreasonable number of missed calls and unread messages. Didn’t people realise it, if your call was not answered after two call attempts calling every other minute would not yield any results,either who ever you were calling could not otherwise pickup the phone or they simply did not want to talk to you.

His phone had been held hostage in lieu of restaurant bill that had been paid for him by The Doctor and in return for getting it back, he had agreed, to distribute advertising flyers. It was a fair enough transaction except for the part where X would rather be caught dead than stand at the traffic intersection handing out flyers. His Father was one of the wealthiest people in this city after all and work of any sort was beneath him. Which is why he was currently broke, because his fool of a father had decided to cut him off from the family purse, so he could learn the value of money. But X already knew the value of money, what’s the point of having all the money in the world, if you had to work, well one day his fool of a father would be dust and all of this would be his.

His father was probably worried about him, he had not talked to him or gone back home since his credit card got stolen. He was currently crashing on the couch of a girl who worked at his dad’s bank, who was sweet on him. Lovely girl really, who was probably right now waiting for him, to show up for a Valentine’s day dinner. She had said she would pay, leap year, ladies treat, and he plum forgot, which is probably why she was trying to call him, he put the phone on silent and put it back in his pocket.

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He would have to come up with a story to tell her for blowing her off, if he wanted a place to stay for the night but then The Doctor had said to him, if he needed anything all he had to do was but ask, maybe he would, except a part time of him, a voice he had long since stopped listening to, told him, that he should not be any more indebted to that guy than he already was. If X did not think that the his guardian angel had long since been fired then the voice came from the hole  where his conscience was supposed to be.

Post-Box.jpgOn impulse he took the bundle of flyers he was suppose to distribute for the Doctor and posted it into the red post office drop box. “Let the mailman do his job for him” he though as he laughed to himself. “Xman would never hustle a street corner like some pimp.” Abruptly he stopped laughing as a feeling of being watched washed over him almost as if a bucket of icy cold water had been poured over him, goosebumps even popped up, but just as quickly the sensation passed and he was fine.

He looked up and noticed a florist with a bunch of Valentine’s accessories looking at him. “Good evening, Sir,” she greeted him with a smile “buy a rose for your Valentine and get a mystery gift.” If the florist was not cute he would have probably kept walking and not looked back. Instead X went through change, he found a few loose bills and coins, it did not add up to much, he might be a narcissist  but he was not a fool. He needed to get home with a gift, hell hath no fury like a woman stood up. He really wanted to buy roses but his financial situation was complicated, he settled for a box of heart shaped lollipops instead.

dsc_.jpgHe practised what he would say, “Roses are red, violets are blue, these hearts are sweet and so are you..” she would eat that up. It would workout, it always worked, he winked at the lady who sold him the flowers and blew her a kiss as he walked away, whistling.

~~The End

My entry this week for #BlogBattle: Themed lollipop. 

Hope your Valentine’s day was a blast

Cheers

~B

P.S. The story continues from here 

Of coffee and Sleeping Pools

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If you are having coffee with me, I would say “Happy Heart day” to you and serve you a tray of heart-shaped biscuits to have with your coffee or tea. “How are you doing this month of love?” I would ask you. “Have you written any love themed stuff, do point it out to me. Would love to read it.  Me? Oh? Nothing special, I do not need one day out of the year as an excuse to be loving I do that all the time.

If you having coffee with me I would tell you I just came from a trip to the Chinhoyi Caves (Zimbabwe) It’s really an awe inspiring and mysterious place to visit. Do not be fooled by the nice friendly sign that greets you and points the way:

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To get to the Sleeping Pool you have to descent a long flight of steps carved from stone.

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The first thing that strikes you is the brilliant cobalt blue colour of the water below, which you can see before you even start your descent into what feels like the bowls of the very Earth. I won’t lie and say it is not a touch spooky. It’s eerily quiet and all you hear are your footprints echoing on the walls, and oh yes the bats, lots and lots of bats. One of the caves is even called Bat Cave.As you walk deep into the caves, your pulse will definitely kick up a notch, and when you speak you will notice, how everyone speaks in just above a whisper, as if by some unspoken agreement, no one wants to disturb the serenity of the Sleeping Pool or wake the sleepers. The pool is called the Sleeping Pool or Chirorodziva which means The Pool Of The Fallen because it is believed that at the bottom of the pool, lies bodies of people, who were flung there, to sleep for all eternity. Did you just get goosebumps I most certainly did.

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The Sleeping Pool is blue not because it reflects the sky, it is always blue; it’s blue on a cloudy day, it’s blue in the shade and in the sun, it’s blue because… it is just blue, I guess, in the same way the sky is blue.

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Legend has it you cannot throw a stone across the width of the pool, without suffering the wrath of the ancestors, as they will throw the stone back at you, and so curse you. Anyway a sign prohibits you from throwing any form of projectiles into the pool and I always follow the rules except when I break them.

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The actual depth is unknown but an old sign claims 315 feet (96m) although divers have successfully gotten to 136m (446feet) and one was never seen again.

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If you were having coffee with me I would tell you how I went to the Dark Cave.

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There is nothing to see there, just dark caves, its pretty unnerving.

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Good thing for electricity the place is lit up like its Christmas but you can tell that if someone switched off the lights it would be darker than the darkest moonless night… I am sure Batman would totally love that labyrinth of underground passages. Oral tradition has it that during the liberation war, our guerrilla fighters would hide in these caves for days on end.

By the time you climb all the granite stairs back to the top you will be breathing faster from not only exhilaration but exercise. It is quite a workout session climbing those steep stairs and if you are in bad shape it would be pure torture; fortunately I am not, I jogged all the way up because I really really wanted to get back to sunshine and life. No worries if you need to stop and rest, there are little alcoves carved into the granite where you can sit and rest.

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I practically blew a kiss to the sun and wanted to hug the wide blue sky when I finally got back out from under the ground.

If you were having coffee with me I would say yes that was an exhilarating experience and I wish to do it again, I have pictures but they just don’t capture the experience.

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Thank you for visiting with me and have a happy heart day

~B

 

 

 

Of The Flower In My Garden

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There’s a flower in my garden,
more special than a rose,
with sweet beauty it grows,
from where my happiness looms,
in the light of my smile it blooms,
breathtaking to see it from above,
entrancing like a waking dove,
wings of petals unfolding, rising in the warmth of my love,
in perfect blossom,
cheerful and buxom,
I am its Sun,
nourishing its growth,
appreciating its worth,
in a dreamy haze,
it basks in my rays,
delighting in the attention of my affection,
blushing,
dancing to the breeze of my motion,
swishing,
I blow it a gentle kiss to lightly caress each leaf,
shyly waves back at me with a touch of mischief,
a little gesture but enough,
to make me smile and laugh,
my love
my flower,
my joy,
the flower in my garden,
it may not be the most beautiful flower,
but it is mine to cherish and shower,
praises and treasure,
watching it grow in my garden,
if I am not near,
somewhere far not here,
dew shaped teardrops appear,
shedding a silent tear,
wilting with each passing moment of my absence,
only to be revitalised by my presence,
soòn as I lavish my attention,
melting away the tension,
the teardrops disappear just like dew vanishes in the morning light,
mist in the departing night,
leaving wet sparkling spots,
inkblots on colorful thoughts,
it seems to glow with a shimmering radiance,
scenting the air with a lingering radaiance,
its supple stem bends to the breeze
but never breaks ,
proudly holding up its petals in quiet dignity,
tribute to its gentle beauty,
I reach out and with caution,
hold it as i would a droplet from the ocean ,
the delicate stem rests snuggly in my hand in complete trust and abandon,
of the innocent maiden,
I could pluck it from the ground,
twist it around
or snap its stem just as a child can snap a blade of grass,
fragile like shard of glass,
without a thought,
but I would never do the sort,
to the treasure in my garden,
it grows just for me,
just as I live to see,
the color it adds to my life.

Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul

Of Needful Things

Genre: mystery
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He seduced you with promises from your wildest dreams, led you too close to the edge then waited for you to descend into the chasm. It was inevitable. Everyone had that something they wanted badly enough to lose everything for. The logic was iron clad and so was the contract.

Subtlety was key; he never let you fully comprehend what you were getting yourself into, not until it was too late.

Whatever he did for you first was always a favour, in exactly the same way a drug dealer gave you the first one for free and the subsequent ones at a discount until you were hooked, and then he owned you. Nothing is for free, it’s an investment if you will, and he was after all, in a fashion a businessman in a high stakes enterprise.

He called himself The Doctor of needful things, and sold dreams for the bargain price of something that you seemed to have no use of except to losing it, innocence is such a priceless thing to lose. He preyed on the lost mostly but he was an equal opportunity dealer, everyone deserved a chance to be enticed into a life of decadence. He dangled a forbidden fruit in front of you and let you take a bite, as chains too light to feel until they were too strong to be broken ensnared you.

The Doctor cleared his throat and spoke in his trademark reassuringly hypnotic voice  “So my dear boy X, tell me what is it that you want, what do you really really want………..

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~THE END for now

My #blogbattle entry this week themed chasm….. and if you just joining and wondering whats going on, NewsFlash: me too I don’t know yet but it will be fun finding out and the story continued from HERE so you know the story so far ^_^

~B

 

photo credit: Three Rivers Deep

Of weekend coffee share and versatile awards

 

If you were having coffee with me, I would say hello its been awhile, I have ever so missed your visits. Now I am busy playing catch up and replying to last year’s comments.

An orange coffee mug

How is the new Year treating you, will this year be it? And resolutions how they coming along? My resolution is to not make a resolution….. *made, broken and kept in one breath*

My year officially begins in February because I am a February baby my star sign is Pisces if you cant do the astrology math or is it astronomy I forget.

While I was away I was nominated for various blogging awards and I decided to just deal with them in one epic sweep because I am versatile like that. That would explain why I was twice nominated for the versatile blogger award by Sinawo who takes her Baby Steps HERE and Yvonne-Michelle who muses over a pair of dimples HERE.

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I was also nominated for a Liebster award by the Impossible journey blog.

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Thank you all so much for thinking of dear ol me, these things are really a fun way to share more about  yourself so grab a cuppa of your favourite beverage and put your feet up and could learn a thing or seven about me.

If you are having coffee with me I would be answering seven questions:

 

  1. Cake mix or from scratch?

When I bake, I always bake from scratch, cake mix feels like cheating, its like buying takeaway and microwaving it and then saying I cooked. If you were having coffee with me I would offer you a slice of cake which I baked. I love the anxiety of waiting for the cake to come out hoping it doesn’t flop, but if it does you can always cover it with icing.

 

  1. Chickens or eggs?

Chickens obviously, I am a breast and thighs man, strictly speaking about chicken, I mean eggs have got no soup. But I do suffer through a raw egg every morning before my workout session… The things I do this body. I love to bake chicken in the oven.

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  1. Do you exercise regularly?

Absolutely I have a routine, very hardcore, all I need now is a reason to walk around shirtless like those TV hunks who drink their coffee shirtless *kisses the guns* I should be fitness instructor. I would post a pic but I shy *hides*

 

  1. Paper books, e-books, or audio books?

I am old fashioned, give me old fashioned books made from the blood of trees and I will read it while leaning beneath the shade of tree whispering to it you are next, (the tree not the book) Maybe an e-book if it has special page turning effects such as it makes page rustling noises as you turn the page, and has the musky smell of printed paper, maybe I would consider an audio book if Morgan Freeman does the reading.

 

  1. Window seat or aisle?

Window seat. Why anyone will anyone would willingly pick the aisle seat beats me. Unless they are tryin to impress someone, that’s the only reason would trade places. I want to look outside enjoy the view, see the clouds like at the people who look like ants from up here and if the worst should happen I want to see the plane crash, watch the ground come up to embrace us, morbid curiosity or is it curious morbidity you tell me.

 

  1. Where is your favorite vacation destination?

Its not one place, I want to see the whole world not just one corner of it. If I had all the money in the world I would not build a multi-million dollar mansion, nope, I would have one tiny room in every city in the world.

 

  1. What do you wish everyone knew about you?

That I really have no idea what I am doing, I don’t know what I want but I am slowly figuring out what I don’t want, I think that’s the purpose of life if you ask me.

I shall post up my nominees eventually but in the mean time hope your weekend was great, thank you for stopping by and having virtual coffee with me.

~B

 

 

Of A Fiery Adventure

 

 

Fences are for keeping intruders out, but they also keep you inside, it took me a few years to realise that. The boarding school I went to had no fences only boundaries, and all boundaries can be transcended.

I guess the school being in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by a forest they figured there was nowhere to go, although students were strongly advised to stay within the school boundaries. The were no fences anywhere except the girls hostel which was fenced off with barbed razor wire, and the Sister in Charge kept rabid dogs which were rumoured to bite anything in a pair of trousers. The message was clear girls’ hostel was forbidden forest to all boys.

This also implied that everywhere else was fair game. Every weekend my friends and I would walk a little further into the surrounding woods to see how far we could go before we were called out, for going out of bounds. There was always three of us, my two friends who will remain nameless and myself. We explored every nook and cranny of the forest surrounding the school and so much more. We called these trips, expeditions, even drew tiny maps, so we could remember places of interest, like the leafy glade where you could rest all day and study or not if you so chose far from scrutiny of nosy folk, and the cave with rock art, which could easily be over a hundred years old. In hindsight perhaps we should have told someone about that cave it could have been a cultural heritage site.

If you walked far enough there was a section with no fence, where one, whom, if was so inclined could get in or out of the girls hostel but that is another story altogether.

I know a shortcut…” Those are the words that mark the beginning of an adventure or a very long journey. We decided to use our knowledge of the local terrain to see if we could find a shortcut to the nearest town which was some twenty kilometers away. If shortcuts were as good as they are purported to be they would not be called shortcuts, they would be the way.

We would have walked forever taking shortcut after shortcut into dead-end routes going round in circles, had it not been that one of my friends noticed a wall of smoke in the horizon. We were unconcerned at first, but the smoke steadily got closer and it seemed to be enveloping us, as hot breeze blew at us. That’s when we realised that we were smack dead in the middle of the path of a veld fire. We made a hasty retreat as the wind suddenly kicked up several knots like a air of bellows fanning the flames. Chasing us was tongues of fire as tall as a man standing on another man’s shoulders (which was was the length of the grass in some parts of the forest) I could feel the fierce heat baking me alive as my clothes got drenched in sweat, no, that was not sweat, that was my body crying.

Either we ran in circles or the fire encircled us and was slowly closing in for the kill because everywhere we turned there was flames to the front of us. The only way to make it out alive was to break through a wall of fire and hopefully head in the direction of the tarmac highway. It was now nearly impossible to tell directions because thick black smoke was caressing us intimately coiling around us like a boa constrictor making it hard to breathe or think. We broke a bunch of tree branches with plenty of green leaves and used them to beat a path through a section where the fire was not to dense. It felt like stepping through one of the circles of hell in Dante’s inferno, you did not pause to think, you kept moving forward, as you breathed in the acrid smoke and all you heard was the roar of a thousand tongues trying to lick you, and all you thought was this is it, the final curtain is a blanket of smoke. Surprisingly we made it through, whole, except for the soles of my shoes which had melted though I did not notice at the time.

When we finally got to the the highway the Priest-In-Charge of the school was there, leaning on the door of his pick-up truck , which was full of the other boys and they were all applauding. We just sheepishly walked to them, with our smoke blackened faces showing nothing but smiling white teeth as we tried to figure out if they were happy because we had been finally busted for going out of bounds.

It turns out, that day we single-handedly saved the school from burning. You see, as we were beating a path out of the flames we inadvertently doused the flames headed towards the school premises. We were hailed as heroes and that day supper was a special dinner held in our honour.

No one asked what exactly we had been doing out there and we did not tell. Everyone assumed that we had seen the smoke and set out to put out the fire and we let them believe it. The school needed its heroes and who were we to stop them, everybody loves a hero.

~The End

 

My first entry this year for the #blogbattle this is a memory from HERE

oh how I missed the internet ^_^

~B