Thrilled to receive a LOVE YA blog award from Steve. If only this blog was less self-aggrandising! But befriending is what it is all about.
LOVE YA blog award: ‘These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandisement. Our hope is when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver thsi award to eight more bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly written text into the body of their award.’
In no particular order because they are blogger friends befriending others in the recovery community, Hope, Trail Boss who has had a rough week, Boston’s Gratitude, Atiyanna, Eli’s Addict, Jess, Pat of Journey into the Past and my lovely Gabrielle. I’ve tried to focus on some of you who might not have received this award eight times already and you’re charming if I say you’re charming. Feel free to pass this by if you don’t do awards.
Yesterday I had lunch with my friend Charlotte who has no deep understanding of the nature of pasta. Charlotte boils pasta until it is soft and squishy, not al dente. She does not welcome criticism from hungry guests while she watches the pot boil and boil and boil.
So I went into her immaculate shade garden and watched African wild irises (Dietes grandiflora) dropping their blue and white silks on the gravel. The Celtis africana tree was crowded with tiny white-eye birds ( witoogies as we call them) all singing their hearts out. Pots of grey echeveria and aloes, a protea spiked in pink and black feathery tufts. Charlotte is a very neat gardener, her garden is really an outside room. I sighed over my own great messy sprawl but there is more than one way to make a garden. Even her cat is demure and well-behaved. Pity about the pasta.
After lunch I went and stood in a long long queue full of elderly people with arthritis, crying babies and youngsters singing Lethu Mashin Wami, Jacon Zumas theme song Bring Me My Machine Gun. Slightly paranoid Americans really want to try living in Africa to get some perspective on uncertain times. But everyone in the queue was gentle and couteous and we took turns to hold snotty babies and lend pens and share flasks of tea. My eye hurt like hell in that cold wind but I was glad to be able to vote. For years the only party I supported was banned.
Then I went home and had a bowl of hot butternut soup and put myself to bed early. Very glad to be facing the future sober and with a non-violent heart.