Removing scum

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Care of Comics.com.

I recognise this situation.

I wonder if my family, friends and students hold back when I start spouting off about biology.

Quotes about writing.

Ever been the lead character in the writer's block scene of you own life story? Here are some quotes that may help get you energised about writing again:

"Becoming a writer is about becoming conscious. When you're conscious and writing from a place of insight and simplicity and real caring about the truth, you have the ability to throw lights on for your reader." Lamott (1994:225)

or maybe more simply:

"You want to write? Write.... Just plant your butt in a chair and write." Smith (2006:82).

I found both these in Cecile Badenhorst's book: Research Writing.

When is father's day, not father's day.

Today, 9th June 2009, is a special kind of father's day for us.

Let me tell you something about our dad. He loved travelling around South Africa in our caravan. He loved travelling to wild places specifically. He loved, before our home suburb developed, cranking the volume on the 1812 overture on the record player and walking down to the spruit and just listening (much to the chagrin of our older siblings). He loved Woodland Kingfishers and Brown Snake Eagles. Once he retired he loved flannel shirts. And he had the biggest collection of boring corporate ties that I've ever seen. He loved my mom's quilting hobby and he loved taking these works of art as the requisite blanket on picnics or to lie on underneath the fig trees on the banks of the Sabie river.

Mom kept his ties and flannel shirts when we cleaned out his wardrobe after he died. She always knew she wanted to do something special with these items. She finished this work of art over the last few months.


It's a picnic blanket, so we don't have to use the bed quilts on damp, squidgy and weedy grass on all future picnics. It's made from his flannel shirts (the green flannel is extra) and bound in his ties. The quilt pattern is called "Snails trail" and this too has significance. Dad was house-bound on oxygen for the last few years of his life. From the oxygen concentrating machine he had a long "trail" of translucent pipe to his cannula... just like a trail left behind by a snail. That's how we'd track him down in the house if he wasn't in the bedroom. Mom called the quilt: "Ties that bind" - holding the quilt together.




You'll notice the dirt on the label. That's cos we broke the quilt in at our church's recent potjiekos competition.

Pretty artistic way of remembering Dad. Eleven years today that he's been out of our physical presence, but always with us. Even now when we go on picnics. Even more so when we hear the call of the Woodland Kingfisher: a loud trilling song, kri-trrrrrrr descending and fading.

Birds of a feather.

Do yourself a favour and read "A guide to the birds of East Africa"! Rarely has a book got me glued to the pages and stealing moments to read just one more chapter. It's a novel by the way. This frantic reading was spurred on by the fact that the book had to back in our bookclub collection by tomorrow morning. I only got the book from B on Sunday - I've never read a book in less than a week, but I was determined not to give it back half-read and wait my turn to read the rest of it.

Nicholas Drayson's language is full of innovative adjectives that add a very special sense of humour to the story. I even had to haul out the dictionary to look one of these up. What presents itself as a field guide is actually a bit of a love-story wrapped up in guy talk, walk, politics, wagering, escapades and twitching aplenty (bird watching). One reviewer (on the kalahari.net site) calls these 'fairly frivolous events'. They also said it was set in Nigeria *koff* umhmn that's not in EAST AFRICA! Maybe reading the title would help before you write a book review. This light-hearted narrative is set in Nairobi, Kenya.

In the haste to finish the story before the bookclub deadline, I took the book to the symphony last night, reading during the pre-concert talk, while the orchestra was tuning up, and the last few minutes of the interval, and even in one-chapter snatches at my desk today. One particularly humourous thread in the story nearly had me rolling in the isle at the Linder - a hysterically funny story about .... hadedahs.

Here's précis of the story to entice you further to read the book. Mr. Malik is an shy ordinary man, with a comb-over. He's a semi-retired and spends Tuesday mornings on a bird walk led by Rose Mbikwa with whom he is secretly in love. Harry Khan, a long-lost school bully of Malik's, turns up in town and meets Rose hoping to convince her to be wife #5. A love triangle develops and the boys set out to win Rose's company at the Kenyan event of the year - the Hunt Ball. The winner will be the one who sees the most number of bird species in one week. Frivolity ensues - African twitcher style. Do enjoy the read - it was far more manly and funny that I had imagined. I've very glad it'll be on my bookshelf again soon.