Pinching giants and handsome trolls

Thanks to the amazing people who took me up on the offer of a free book. 73 of you. And I do hope you all enjoyed my ramblings. My eldest granddaughter decided to read along with you all, mainly because the family were stuck at home and she was bored. It is such a pleasure to have her enthralled with the story and wanting to know who the murderer was halfway through. (We didn't tell her and she was surprised at the end, just as I had intended.) I wish I could have taken my grandchildren to visit the scene of the crime, aka The Mountain Park Hotel in Bulwer. With its impressive backdrop of the Amahaqwa mountain and the misty valleys, the gorgeous yellowwood church and ... ah well, I am sure it has all changed since I was last there and no doubt not as I remember it. One thing I have learnt is not to look back at the past in the hopes of seeing your memories come to life. I went on Google maps to look at our home in Empangeni and was sadly disillusioned.And then I was 'chatting' online to an old friend in my hometown (Alec) and he spoke of people long dead, but not forgotten. Giants walked amongst us children. Giants who had done great deeds and changed history. Many of our fathers had fought in the wars or invented stuff, or kept journals of wonderful moments in time. As a child I didn't see them as giants. There was Ian Player who saved rhinos, J L B Smith who recognised the coelacanth from a drawing. (Coelacanths had supposedly been extinct for 66 million years until one was dragged from the ocean by simple fishermen off the coast of South Africa.) Some of you might have read my stories in my book Muddled Memories where I mention Frank Antonowitz who 'imported' women from Russia to replenish the depleted ranks of the Boer womenfolk. A Giant in one way, but he lost his way over time and forgot who he really was. Sad to see him shrink down to a shadow of his former self. Are we giants in our own lives or are we midgets in our minds but heroes to our grandchildren? I went to school with Lawrence Anthony, known as the Elephant Whisperer who will always remain an inspiration to us all, and the boy who became a bank robber. (I won't mention the bank robber's name because I am sure he has paid his debt to society long since.) Such differing ends of the spectrum. None of us know what our fellow life travellers have achieved. Alec was asking me about my father and I told him about my father's eclectic interests from Tesla (Nikola, not the car), Immanuel Veilkovsky author of Worlds in Collision, perpetual motion machines and anthropology, archeology and digging up golden ship's treasures along the Zululand coast. But I had forgotten that once upon a time Alec's dad and mine were supposed to fight a boxing bout. What we remember about our past is very selective. Boxing is not my forte, heck, sport in any form is not my forte. So, I conveniently forgot that memory of boxing matches.What I did remember was my Dad walking across a crocodile infested river in the nude, with his dry clothes tied in a bundle on top of his head. What does that say about me? That I would happily ford a river in the nude rather than put on boxing gloves? No, it's because I love nature. Perhaps I should qualify that? I love nature when I don't have to sleep in a leaky tent and go to the toilet in a smelly long drop in the middle of the night. Nature nurtures my soul. Giants inspire me to reach greater heights and history reminds me to record it all for future generations.

When you are cooking from a recipe, it will sometimes say a pinch of this or that. Now, I know, technically, that a pinch is the amount of stuff you can grab between your thumb and your index finger. But really, not all are created equal in the finger size department. My pinch might be significantly smaller than yours. Years ago I decided that my pinch would be what I could scoop up on the handle part of a teaspoon. And if I feel that the heat factor of the meal I am cooking deserves an extra zing of cayenne pepper, then two scoops will do. I always err on the side of zing in my meals. Recently I have been buying a chicken wrap that promises spicy delight. Sadly, the staff take one look at me and decide for me that zing is not what I want. Good grief people, I grew up in Zululand where curry was not tasty unless you were sweating out of your eyeballs and table napkins soaked with the sweat of your brow. I suffer from FOUF (Fear Of Underfeeding Family/Friends). If we are going on a picnic or having people around to the house, I over cater and even then I think 'too little, must make more.' My mother did the same thing. Is that an inherited trait? Over Easter we went to my daughter's home for a meal .. and chocolate egg hunt. We had to do it in stages because chocolate eggs deserve a whole day just for themselves. Friday we hid eggs around the garden ... we, being my adult children and me sitting inside ... but nevertheless, eggs were hidden. Each child was given a number that would be theirs. Children A, B and C brought their laden baskets back to start the process of consumption. But child E said his eggs were lacking. We sent him out to find the missing eggs with no success. There were no more eggs. None. Mama to the four children then suggested they each count their stash once more to be sure they hadn't mis-counted. Little Miss 6 year old said 'Oh dear, I have too many.' Yup her brother's eggs were in her basket. You could be forgiven thinking she is so young she can't count, but you would be wrong. The Easter bunny had been given specific instructions by some of the children as to what was expected. One child wanted sour sweets inside the eggs. and definitely nothing with Caramel. Another just wanted 'heaps' and so it went on. Us Easter bunny representatives did our best depending on budget and availability. But seriously, that horrible war in Ukraine is affecting everything. I know I shouldn't complain about the lack of treats while people are losing their lives and their homes, but the Easter Bunny had to make adjustments because of the war. Adjustments that as adults we understand and sympathise with, but there are others who did not get their wish list fulfilled. Although, there were no complaints from our recipients in the end. Their grandmother's FOUF affliction has obviously affected her own children and infiltrated into their belief that ten Easter Eggs are better than one.

Do you get friend requests on Facebook that you immediately decline because of the profile photo? They might be perfectly nice people but their choice of profile photo freaks me out. If I know them well, I will still accept their request, but those who are on the periphery of my life, nope. Into the bin. I fill my Facebook pages with things that make me smile and looking at someone half naked does not make me happy. I know I shouldn't have a checklist of what I want my friends to look like, but sadly I am shallow and I do judge others by their appearance. Heaven help me if I could read their minds when they look at my own photo, but I live in a fantasy land where I am perfect and everyone else has to live up to my ideals. Okay, you know I am kidding, right? But honestly, profile photos tell others so much about us that it is scary to think how they can judge us from such a simple thing. I listened to a comedian recently who spoke of a woman who stole a baby. The woman was very large and wearing pink stretch jeans. The comedian commented that it was a brilliant disguise because who would notice a baby when a large woman in bright pink pants walked by. All you would see are her clothes and her size. When bank robbers wear silly face masks, the witnesses focus on the face and not the person. They struggle to identify such things as gender, height or skin colour. I get friend requests from strange men. Strange as in I have never met them and have no idea why they would want to be my friend. Their profile photos are of good looking men with a smile on their face, perfect clothing and nice background and I think 'Mmm what real man would take the time to pose like that?' Real men will have a profile picture of them doing something they love. A profile picture like the 'Strangers' have would be done professionally, so, why are they wanting to get to know me? What is their ulterior motive? I am cynical and judgemental of course, but hey, if I get a Messenger message that says 'I won a million dollars and thought you might like to find out how you too can do what I have done ....' Or one that I got recently was from a very old friend who sent me a message asking what I knew about XYZ ... I sent him back a laughing emoji. His reply was 'Why did you send that emoji?' Well, firstly I have no money to be interested in investing in XYZ or even ABC and I replied that I really had never heard of this company and I was seriously not interested. Never heard from him again. Are there people out there that fall for this nonsense? If it really was my friend sending me the message, surely he would have chatted about things we have in common? So, ergo, not really my friend but rather a troll.

My children and I have very in-depth and interesting conversations. The current subject is 'When was slavery abolished in America?' Most of us would say that the Civil war abolished slavery, but you would be wrong. The slavery law stayed until 1940 when America was about to embark on WW11 and was worried about what the world would say if their lack of anti-slavery laws was exposed. There are other laws from around the world that would boggle the brain. It's illegal to run out of gas/fuel on the German autobahn. Yup. There is no breakdown area to refill your tank. They expect you to plan ahead and fill your car up sufficiently before getting on the road. When we immigrated to New Zealand we stopped in Singapore and were advised that we should not eat on the streets, or even chew gum. You could be fined for even importing gum to Singapore. This law eventuated because of the mess gum made in the streets around 1992. And in Switzerland it is illegal to hike naked. Who would want to do this is beside the point, it's all about public decency. And in Venice you are not allowed to feed pigeons. No high heels in Greece at the Acropolis because of damage to the ancient monument and Winnie the Pooh t-shirts are banned in Poland because, shock, horror, Winnie is not wearing pants. And swimming on a French beach in board shorts is a definite no, no. Speedos only. Mainly because few people would wear Speedos into the centre of the town, but board shorts are interchangeable with normal clothing. But the best law of all is that you cannot ride a cow while drunk in Scotland. What prompted that law? Actually the full law states that you should not be in control of a cow, horse, carriage or steam engine while under the influence. It also stipulates that drunks are not allowed to be carrying guns. This law was brought in 1872 and remains in force to this day. I myself might get a giggle out of a drunk person sitting on the back of a cow, but perhaps it's for the safety of the animal that the law was instituted? A funny law is that you must own a burial plot in Sarpourenx before you die. Anyone dying in the city limits without a burial plot will be severely penalized. What could you possibly do to a person who is already dead? And what if you are a tourist and die of a heart attack? Do your friends pile you in the back of a bus and drive you to the next town? No sand castle building on Spanish beaches, illegal to reincarnate in China without permission, it's illegal to kill BigFoot in British Columbia. Well, you get the picture. There are so many laws in the world that it would be impossible to travel without breaking a law somewhere, somehow. Wow, another reason not to travel. I mean, I can't travel because of finances, but now I can say I can't travel in case I break a law.

So, I will leave you some words of wisdom, be a giant, do not hike naked, but certainly, ford crocodile infested rivers in the nude if you wish. Eat Easter eggs slowly. That is a big one ... too much chocolate can cause headaches and sugar spikes. I bought myself a dark chocolate egg only to be confronted with the fact that it had twice the amount of sugar that the milk chocolate ones had. Not looking at the labelling did not do me any favours. Word of wisdom to myself, take your reading glasses with you when buying chocolate eggs.