Since I can be quite irreverant I feel a bit of a fraud accepting it. I rather like to kick a few sacred cows from time to time, & poke sticks at serious matters.
And I have to confess, I cant seem to get it onto my blog, perhaps someone will offer some advice?
Thankyou Bren. And I will think about who I would like to accpet it from here.
This is a pic of a friend of Leo's. I find it sitting looking quizically at me, in all sorts of places. This time it was on the kitchen floor, looking really puzzled as to how he had got there, & why exactly.
And here he is looking so innocent. Butter wouldn't melt.
Really he is in need of a good clipping, but we have been holding off until the weather is a little warmer. Our friend has cut a few clumps out here & there, & so there are some odd little baldy patches. I think at first he was a bit mortified, but he has recovered all his vim & I am sure, thinks he is handsome. Or, more likely, doesnt care, because he knows he is just adored!
Chris Isaak, I Wonder.
*******
Every morning when I shower under our piddly, water-saving shower head, I curse it, & think, with utter longing, of a small Motel in Opotiki, New Zealand.
Which has a shower with a generous outpouring of hot water, which gushes out with such force, it almost takes hair off your very head! And other items, of your person, I wont mention, that an Aunt of ours commented upon.
We have stayed at said Motel on more than one occasion, & always agree, the hot water is a dream, & the pressure a thing of joy.
The first time I ever stayed there, was when I travelled South with my brother & SIL to attend our father's funeral. It was cold, & we had got a little late setting out for the journey. And of course, we were all a little tense.
And, as luck would have it, as we travelled as fast as we dared, my beloved brother's car got a puncture. It was very cold, dark, & my brother was wearing his good clothes. He got out to examine the damage, & was opening the boot, to access jacks & the spare tyre.
Along came a huge logging truck, fully laden with logs. The driver stopped, & cheerfully jumped down, to see what the problem was. He took a look at my SIL & I, then at my brother in his good clothing, & said he would change the tyre for him.
And as he did so, he chatted to us, & asked why we were going to Optotiki. My brother told him we had to attend a funeral, & he asked whose funeral. My brother told him our father's name. The truckie asked had we known him. My brother replied, "You could say that. He was my father."
Which is sad, because we didnt really know our father very well at all. And it had only been a short time earlier, that my brother had taken his 3 sons to meet our father, their Grandfather, for the first time in their lives. A fact he has always been glad about since.
I have mentioned before, the morning of the funeral, was the first time we got to meet our half siblings. It just seemed so sad, & wrong, that we hadnt met until our father had died. And it seemed even sadder, that neither of his wives attended his funeral.
I know our mother would have liked to be there. In her heart she always loved him as a person. I dont know about his second wife. I think there was bitterness there.
And the gathering afterwards was one of huge sadness to me. There were grotesque moments when people made the most inappropriate remarks. That stung & hurt at the time, but are now the cause of much laughter, between my brother & I. There were also those surreal moments that must occur at all funerals. That could be a post on it's own.
And it was a chance to get to know a little about our siblings, & their partners & children. And we discovered we liked them all, very much. And catch up with relatives we hadnt seen for years.
My father's remaining living brother still lives in that small town & we stayed at that small Motel on our last visit - and the showers are still wonderful!
Chris Isaak, I Wonder.