MULTIPLY Creative Challenge #13: My Head in a fog

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I think my head has been in a fog a few times since being in this world.

I was born in 1946 and grew up in a London of the 50's when industry was spelt with a capital "I". The days of clean air and water were not known. We had a fire at home that actually was made in a so-called "fire place". First of all there was a layer of newspaper, then a layer of wood and on top a layer of coal. The paper was ignited and the wood started burning and eventually the coals would glow with heat and you kept warm throughout the winter. According to how you were situated there were even different qualities of coal, anthracite being the best and glowing best of all. The cheaper kinds tended to explode now and again in the fire shooting out sparks. We did not even think it was dangerous, you had no other choice. Now imagine a town with then at least ten million inhabitants and all burning fires through the Winter. In those days no-one thought of the emission but today you have to have permission to light a match (especially if you smoke). So what happened was that during the fifties London had smog and then my head was not even in fog (which would have been a bit damp but ok) but in smog.

It is one of my childhood memories going to school in smog. It was thick and absolutely not transparent, you could not see anything in front, at the side, or behind and above all it was not white but yellow. Dense yellow smog - if you had a knife you could probably cut a piece of it out, it was so thick. I remember walking to school in the early morning and walking home in the late afternoon on a Winter's day. You could even smell it as you breathed. What remains most vivid in my memory is blowing into a handkerchief. Not very appetising I know, but you really do not expect to find particles of black soot in a handkerchief afterwards and that is what the result was. Most of us London kids had our tonsils out by the time we were 10 years old, it could not be avoided. I have to laugh sometimes when I hear parents and adults being so aniti smoking. As if their poor little children would be an emergency case if someone on the next table in a restaurant would light a cigarette and they have to inhale the fumes. Of course, not so pleasant, but in the 1950's no-one spoke up about us poor little children walking on the streets of London inhaling soot and smoke from factory chimneys. I would also add that this was the time when the River Thames had no fish anymore. They could not breathe either. I remember when I was very small, about 4-5 years old, my mum would go with me and my aunt and cousins to Tower Bridge in London. They had an artificial beach and for us London children it was our chance to go swimming and play in the sand. In the 50's this was also prohibited as being too dangerous. If the fish died, then it could happen that the children got ill as well.

All I can say is thank goodness that mankind did eventually realise what a threat and danger all the factory pollution was and over the years things have been improved. So basically I grew up in a fog, although it did not seem to damage my brain.

When I was young I didn't have time to put my head in a fog. I had to remain on my feet bringing up my children and going to work to be able to afford it all. No time for having problems as you had to make sure the people around you kept their heads out of the fog.

As you get older a few illnesses crop up and that was my next big fog which I had never forgot. Waking up after a seven hour operation with about 4 or 5 different machines attached to your body and hearing voices in the distance, but not being able to take very much in.

And now with 62 years I hoped for a bit of clarity in the top department but even that is not so easy. Basically I am a very logical person, too logical sometimes. I have difficult in believing things which do not appear to me to have an explanation behind them, although on the other hand I can get lost in a book with a fantasy story. Probably because I know that it is not true and read it for the enjoyment. It is one of the reasons why I am writing this piece of prose and not a poem. Poems are the incarnation of beautiful language. The descriptions and the meanings are just wonderful, but it is a gift I just don't possess (unless it rhymes - but then it is more a ballard by the time I am finished).

So where does the fog come from that was and still is a bit in my head at the moment. It was plain and simple work. The kids are now independent and I have been working for the same company for the last 27 years and enjoyed the work thoroughly. I carried reponsibilitiy in a job which was not simple, export never is. Try delivering a couple of hundred kilos to a country in the far east. You cannot put it in an envelope and just send it knowing that the customer will pay. You have to take steps to ensure financing and organisation of tranport. Many factors affect the success of the business and you can imagine a certain amount of stress is involved. If one day the job changes and more is expected, much quicker and everything combined with more stress - may it be in connection with globalisation or WTO laws you get exhausted quicker, overstrained - you cannot take the pace anymore. This is not even a symptom with older people but also with younger. Then your head is in a fog, known as burn out. This is my case at the moment. You give up. Reactions are no longer the same and the interesting job you once had is gone. You are left with automatic work processes that are the same every day and that have to be done with no-one supporting you as others are in the same boat. At the moment I have been away from this process for two months, but will climb back in some time in the middle of August. I am one of the lucky ones perhaps as the work process for me is now another two and half years and I have a very understanding company where I work. I just feel sorry for the generations that are coming. Will their heads be in a fog or will they be able to change things for the best.




Creative Challeng #13

1st August: The Swiss National Day and how it all begun

There is probably no country in the world where its national day is not celebrated by big business. This was the collection they had in our local supermarket. I even bought a lantern and some swiss lights, but really only for the purpose of making the following photo. And now I will tell you how it all begun in Switzerland. A country with only seven million inhabitants in the middle of Europe where you only need six hours to cross it by car from West to East and from North to south only 3-4 hours if the Alps were not in the way, but we are there. A safe place for your numbered bank accounts, for trying out your skis and for seeing cows with wonderful big brown eyes.

The Beginning of Switzerland: The Rütli Oath

Where did it all start? Well it was some time in August 1291 as the legend goes, somewhere on the Lake of Lucerne on a meadow which has since been known as the Rütli meadow. It is reported as being a clear starry night with a light breeze coming over the Gotthard mountains. A couple of blokes were on the meadow and a small fire was burning. The men were not talking very much but were watching the lake with full concentration. Now and again one of the men, Walter Fürst, got up and took a few steps towards the town of Brunnen, sunk in thought. His white hair looked like snow in the moonlight. I know this sounds all very romantic but I am translating it from a German text on the computer about how it all started, so please bare with me. I don’t know whether there is a word of truth in it, but don’t say that to a 100% Swiss, otherwise they might get slightly annoyed.

Ok this bloke was waiting for something at the lake. Now we are in the Kanton (State/county) of Uri and this Walter Furst was a local native. He Then heard the sound of oars from a boat and noticed it was his mate from another Kanton, known as Schwyz. It was Konrad Hunn a drinking companion and he was very old, his weak legs could hardly carry him and he fell down(probably had a few beers before). Their leader was another Werner Stauffacher and Water Fürst had met his mates and they all shook hands and sat round the fire together. Suddenly some more men came out of the woods wearing shepheard’s shirts and carrying knotty sticks (well that’s what it says). They were from the Kanton of Unterwalden. They had left their farms early in the evening and were led by young Arnold finding their way to this place with the fire burning. So all these men got to know each other. Walter Stauffacher climbed onto a stone where he could keep an eye on everyone from the three Kantons and he seemed to be the big boss. He decided to hold a speech.

“Brothers” he said and everyone stood up (probably damp on the grass). He continued “in the name of God we are standing here (because of the wet grass) and we give each other our hands. A purpose, a target has united us. We want to be free (now I know where Freddie Mercury got the idea for his song). In the deepest hardships we promise to help each other, to stand together when fighting the bailiffs and not to bow before any violence. If there is anyone here that is not ready to sacrifice his life , his possessions and his blood, then he should leave this circle.” Well as no-one left (so they say) Werner Stauffacher continued. He then said “so everyone here from Uri, Schwyz and Unterwalden arise and give your hands to the oath. God shall be out witness that we have decided to protect our freedom against any foreign power and violence (I hope Mad Gaddafi is reading this) and we will protect ourselves and our children.”

Like a holy chorus the oath sounded in the night “We swear it”. The hands went down to their original position again and in the silence that followed Walter Fürst said “May God be with you and your club, my Swiss confederates.” This not being enough Walter continued “Friends we have decided to get rid of our tomentors, the bailiffs. If anyone has any advice how to do it I would like to hear it. Speak up. Everyone started mumbling in the crowd and then it went quiet when Arnold from Melchtal stepped up and made a suggestion.
“We should trick the bailiffs with our cunning. On the day when we have to deliver our rent, or at New Year when we bring our presents to the castle, we will come from behind the walls where no-one expects us. We will hide our weapons under our shirts (ouch) and at a certain organised signal we will pounce. A couple of dozen of us are enough to rid us of the bailiffs and their sort.
“Well said” called Rudolf Stauffacher, the one time Swiss mayor of Unterwalden and everyone started cheering and clapping. Arnold glowed with eagerness and enthusiasm. The noble mayor from Oedisriet in Unterwalden had his doubts.
“Men you forget how strong the enemy is. If we get rid of the bailiffs the emperor, his dukes and lords will become our enemies. I ask you are you ready to fight against such a strong army with our weak weapons?”
“We are ready, The Emperor is dead. We will pull the horsemen from their mounts!”
The shouts of the men were mixed. Once again the mayor tried to bring the fighting spirit of the men to sense.
“We should wait with the uprising until the new emperor is elected. Perhaps it may no longer be the Hapsburgers (well it wasn’t mad Gaddafi) and we can’t get rid of the bailiffs without shedding blood and without weapons.”
Again the speaker was disturbed by interjections.
“Albrecht (now who is he – wait and see) the emperor’s son is not much better than his dead father. He will send new bailiffs. At Christmas we will fight.”
The Uri mayor also wanted to quieten the men down.
“With arms and fighting we can do nothing against such a well equipped enemy. If they win there will be worse times than what we now experience.We should tell the new emperor what disturbs us, tell him our problems and that he should be kinder with us.”
But the men did not like this suggestion.
“We have waited long enough and nothing has helped up to now. Violence must be conquered with violence” shouted Werner Stauffacher from Schwyz to the Uri men.”
It had now begun to get dark in the East and it was time to go home.
Werner Stauffacher could not leave it like that and came to his last question.
“Shall we attempt to fight the bailiffs and their groupies?”
As if one powerful voice spoke the men said “Yes we will, god help us.” (or something like that).
The farmers then went home.

Well that’s the story which has been handed down from generation to generation and is now even on the computer. Our children are taught this in the school and from this meeting of the three groups in the middle of Switzerland the country has developed over the years. Other Kantons joined from the French speaking parts to the Italian kanton, which was the last to join around 1820. Before we got organised we were a mixed bunch. We are still a mixed bunch, but have got used to each other.

The Kanton where I live, Solothurn, joined with the Kanton of Fribourg in 1481. I remember we had big festivals in our Kanton in 1981 to celebrate 500 years of the Eidgenossenschaft. We Swiss are Eidgenossen which means something like being Federal. So you see we had it before the Yanks.

So what do we Swiss do on 1. August. Well the meadow where this oath was supposed to take place, exists and the patriotic Swiss may make their way there and celebrate with one of our ministers who makes a speech. Unfortunately over the last years it has not been so popular, particularly while our Neo Nazi friends interrupt the celebrations from time to time and the police have to make sure that nothing happens and the socialists do not go because they say it is all some sort of story and not true.

All over Switzerland large fires are to be seen at the tops of the mountains – useful for getting rid of any old furniture you might no longer need. The villages and towns organise children’s processions where they carry lanterns as the one in the photo and of course every large town and even some of the villages throws away thousands of Swiss francs on firework displays. We decorate our gardens with patriotic lights and candles and some families have a b-b-q outside inviting family members. Patriotic speeches are made in every town/village by local politicians and all in all we have a 4. July in the Swiss way.

This is one of our lamp posts in our village and they are all decorated at the moment with these flags. The red and white one left is our Kanton flag for Solothurn, the middle one the Swiss flag and on the right, the flag of Feldbrunnen. The name Feldbrunnen means in English meadow fountain. You can see on the flag at the top our local castle, Schloss Waldegg, and then the fountain or drinking trough on a green background symbolising the meadow.

Bits and Pieces in Switzerland

A few days ago I mentioned that Mad Gaddafi in Libya and decided to take a few Swiss hostages and put them in one of his prisons because his son and daughter-in-law were put in a Swiss prison for a few days for attacking and injuring their servants in a hotel in Geneva.

Switzerland at the time were reckoning on a long tug-of-war with Libya until the prisoners were free. It seems something is moving in the game. Our foreign minister, Mrs. Micheline Calmy-Rey has managed to achieve results on the diplomatic line of things. The two arrested Swiss were released from their 10 day arrest on Tuesday. They are ok but are not yet allowed to leave Libya. A bail (more a ransom fee) was paid and talks are still going on on a diplomatic level to get the whole problem solved. It also seems that Libya are again delivering the raw oil to Switzerland. So all's well that end's well? For the time being, shame that Mad Gaddafi is still roaming around sending his family on trips to other countries. I wonder what country is next on the list to pay a ransom fee for someone to be freed. If our countries did something like that we would probably get a fatwa from somewhere and a few bombs would explode in strategic places.

And now for something completely different - another cat story from the newspaper. The headline caught my eye - A Cat realises when death approaches. A report from a nursing home.

Panter does not look any different from a normal house cat, but he has a special job at a nursing home in Switzerland, he accompanies people that are dying. In the nursing home there are actually two teams at work, the nursing team and the various pets that belong in the nursing home.

A remarkable animal is the black cat called Panter, born in 2003. In his first few years in the home he was a quiet shy cat but it was soon noticed that he was always near patients that were in a bad condition. He was to be found with people that were dying, as far as the relations and family allowed it. The cat always acted in the same way. During the last days of the patient the cat would lay at the patient's feet and would slowly move to the shoulders. During this time there was close body contact. He would only leave when the patient had passed on and then the cat would disappear for 2 or 3 days.

The manager of the home said that the animals were not in the home for this purpose, but where it happened it was allowed. There are two other cats as well as a dog kept, and the patients enjoy the comfort of the animals. At first it was thought that the animals could cause problems in their care and being in the home, but this is not the case. He said that the animals were not used as a therapists as you cannot force an animal to do something against its will.

The patients are glad to have the animals there. As well as cats and dogs there is also an aquarium, rabbits, fish and wild ducks. Above all the aviary is very popular with the canaries and the budgerigars.

I think if and when I have to go, then I would not be unhappy in such surroundings.

MULTIPLY Pictures to Words: Faces Week 5

I will never forget the day I met George. I was on one of my special shopping excursions to Zürich. There are so many stores there with such a wonderful variety of special items. If you want the best perfume then go to Zürich, they have everything. So where was I? Ah yes, I went to Zürich to buy something special. I was temporarily out of work, nothing different really, I always seemed to be out of work, but if you do not look for a job you will not find one.

So I entered the perfume department of the best department store Zürich had. Just off the Bahnhofstrasse, but near enough to be able to get lost in the crowds. I made my way to the perfume department and a young lady behind the counter asked if she could be helpful. I named about six of the most expensive perfumes and told her I would like to try them. She engulfed me in vapours with such exotic names, chanel No. 5, poison, Bulgari BLV, Lagerfeld, you name it they had it. I then started asking questions about how much was in the various flacons so she took them out and showed me the different sizes. It was then that my perl necklace broke (I did a quick unnoticed tug on it) and we were on our hands and knees picking up pearls. I left the assistant to it and I was helping myself to a few flasks of perfume slipping them into my handbag while the assistant was busy.

We eventually had all the pearls and I thanked the assistant for her help, looked at the time with astonishment and saying I would be back the next day, but had to go to catch my train I hurried to leave the store. As I was moving towards the door a scruffy looking old man brushed up against me. I will never forget his watery eyes and he smelt as if he had spent the night sleeping at the side of a sewer. Just as I reached the door to the store I was grabbed on my arm by a young clean shaven man dressed in a smart suit telling me to make no fuss, but he would like to examine my hand bag. The scruffy man pushed past me and said he will be waiting outside and winked with one eye.

Things were happening fast and furious. My perfume trick was discovered and I was in deep trouble.
“If you would like to come with me Miss” said the man in the suit being followed by the lady from the perfume counter and he lead me into a small room just next to the entrance.
“I think you might have something in your handbag that has not been paid for.”
“Yes she has” said the shop assistant “she distracted me with the pearl necklace trick and now there are three bottles of expensive perfume missing.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about” I said, playing for time, but before I could stop them they had emptied my bag out onto a table and I don’t mind saying I was very surprised to find that there were no stolen perfumes in my handbag. Just the usual necessaries that we women carry around with us - lipstick, comb, purse. The young man went very red in the face and looked at the shop assistant with an annoyed glance.
“I am sure she stole the perfumes” said the young lady
“The next time you should be more exact before you call us for assistance. We store detectives have enough to do without going on a wild chase for no reason. Madame, please accept our apologies for this disturbance. Miss Smith” he said looking at the shop assistant “you will now fetch a bottle of Chanel No. 5 perfume as compensation for the trouble we have caused our customer.”
I was naturally thrilled, the stolen perfume was not found, I had been given a bottle of my favourite and everyone was full of apologies. I then left the store remembering the strange smelling individual that told me with a glance to wait outside. I had no intention of waiting anywhere and decided to disappear as fast as possible. I left the shop and turned the next corner and bumped into the old man once again.
“You were really not as clever as you should have been” he said in quite an educated voice. “The pearl necklace trick is an old one and you should really work with a partner. I must say you do have quite a talent for leading people up the wrong path.”
I was a little bit annoyed, but astonished when the old man presented me with the stolen perfume especially as I now had two bottles of Chanel No. 5, the stolen one and the compensation.
“Now you are surprised. Only professionals can take something without it being noticed” and his similing face was accompanied by a laugh that just did not seem to fit someone showing his age.
“I think the least you can do is to invite me for a drink” he said.
Now although I was pleased to have my hard earned perfume, I was not actually prepared to have a drink with such a smelly old man.
“Of course you can invite me back to your place” he said with a sly laugh.
I had no choice. I had parked my car at the station and told him to accompany me, but he must sit in the back seat – he was still on the smelly side and was carrying two or three plastic bags. Tramps always see to carry their life with them in plastic bags.
.
At that time I was living in one of those villages at the edge of Zürich where the working population lived. Not bankers, but more factory workers – sort of working class, but my apartment was clean, although small.

When I arrived home I told him to take a seat and I would make some coffee and whether he would like something to eat. After all I had my freedom and honour to thank him for. Surprisingly he said he must go to the bathroom. I told him to leave his plastic bags in the kitchen, no-one would take it, but he replied that he never leaves his few possessions unattended.

So imagine my surprise when fifteen minutes later (I was astonished at the time he spent in the bathroom) a tall clean shaven man, some two or three years older than myself, appeared wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a sort of hair style similar to that of Brad Pitt. Even his eyes bore a likeness. They were no longer wrinkled and watery, but clear and laughing eyes. It was a complete rebirth and no longer the scruffy tramp individual I had brought home with me.
“I hope you don’t mind” he said, “but I borrowed some of your eau de cologne from the bathroom just to improve my scent. After all sewer smell is not the sort of thing that makes an impact on the ladies. If I may say so I was very impressed with your small show in the shop, I think we might make a good team.”

“A good team” I repeated “can you explain that a bit more in detail.”
“No problem, how do you think I caught onto your little trick so quickly. I was doing that five years ago, but naturally not for perfume, more for clothing. There are so many things I could teach you and together we would be strong.”

Well I suppose he must have made a impact on me somehow as he did actually stay the afternoon at my apartment, and even saw the inside of my bedroom. Well I mean I was old enough to look after myself and you have to take what you can get. He seemed to have the same impression. He left my place around five in the evening but two hours later he was back, complete with a suitcase full of his possessions.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I had a little trouble about paying the hotel bills. I thought I could lay low at your place until things cool down.”
Well to be quite honest after our afternoon of getting to know each other it did not really bother me in the least that he stayed.

He stayed actually forever more or less. I learnt his name was George and that he grew up in an orphanage where he learned to look after himself. Yes there were no flies on my George. Ok, I am now speaking in the possessive language. We were a good team. I would enter the shops, using my various tricks and he would wait as I left taking the goods off me each time in a different disguise. George was a master of disguises. He seemed to be reborn every day. Sometimes I thought I was living with many different men, although my George was unique. Who cared about being out of work, you just did not have to work for your living with a George in the house. You needed clothes, go to a shop and take them. George always had a plan. If he needed anything then it was my turn to play the innocent bystander and between us we did well.

Of course life could not go on forever like this, now and again we needed cash. That was when I discovered that George had a talent for forging signatures. You just had to look in the computer, there were enough signatures there to imitate, and with his gift of disguises, he was a different person all the time. We even got rich.

Then one day, after working together at least a year, he proposed to me. It was so romantic in our favourite restaurant at the Dolder Hotel. The hotel was perched on top of a hill overlooking Zürich, so romantic and so expensive. We loved it there and I think it was the only place where we paid with a cheque that didn’t bounce or a credit card that was valid. I mean there are some things that you just do not do.

So we were married and then he had a brilliant idea. Well, he thought it was brilliant. He decided to kill me. Now things would have been so wonderful had he not thought of that. I noticed he had bought (well I helped him to buy them with a trick) some books about insurance and said there was a lot of money to be had if one of us made a life insurance for the other. We could put our hard earned savings (hard earned?) together and it would cover the costs of such an insurance.
“George, who is getting insured?” I asked
“Well, you of course, after all it is my idea.”
“But don’t I have to die for you to get the money”
“No, not really, I have a plan. You will have a car crash and the car will burn. Then the insurance company will pay out.”
“Yes George, but what if I do not want to burn and die.”
“Oh that is just a way of talking my dear. Of course you won’t burn. There are enough bodies in the local morgue I can make a fire with. A can of gas and a lighted match work wonders on a corpse.”
“Sorry George, please explain.”
“The local newspaper is full of burials when and where. I will sneak in the crematorium and steal one. It won’t be noticed and they will burn a coffin with someone else. After all we will be saving a family money for a burial and all the trimmings.”
“Are you sure George?”
“No problem.”

And so it came to pass that George took out a life insurance on myself and it was decided that I would die two months later. What I just did not know was that George really intended for me to die. I was going shopping and took the car. He had cut the break cables and as I was approaching Zürich I put my foot on the breaks at the traffic lights, the car just carried on. Well I must say everything was over in five minutes and even the ambulance with its horn blowing could not save my life. George looked quite chuffed at my funeral. I was watching him. You could almost believe he had real tears in his eyes.

I should have known better. If George takes out a life insurance, then it was for I, me and myself and never intended sharing it with anyone, but I was not finished with George yet. Now George decided to move away from Zürich to the South of France. As I had not yet decided to move on in my new life, there is always a waiting room somewhere, I was watching him attentively.

He lost no time, my George, and soon had another lady in tow. One of those brainless women that was glad to have such a good looking man at her side and with money to go with it. By this time George no longer needed his tricks, he had his own bank account and with investments and perhaps a little bit of crookedness he was his own man. Now in this place where I am at the moment, not being final, there is a chance to return. I just had to make sure that his new lady had an accident the same way I had mine and my unearthly presence was in the right place and the right time. No problem. Just imagine how she felt when she was on a shopping trip in the car and suddently I appeared on the seat next to her – not a pretty appearance naturally as driving at 120 kilometers into another car with your head going through the front window did leave a few scars and disfigurements on my body. Anyhow new wife took one look at this ghostly apparition sitting next to her in the car and took her eyes off the red light showing in front of the car. Naturally I had planned everything well. This time the ambulance got her to the hospital to be able to save her. Or did they? I now have my George again and his new lady, well she went on to better pastures although he still has a lady looking the same, but it is what is inside that counts.

I quite enjoy my life now with George. No more stress about stealing your way through life. We have everything we could wish for. Money, our own home, holidays in the Bahamas, and yes, a little George junior to complete the picture, although I am not sure about George junior, he just does not sleep well. He drinks well, but he sometimes has a sort of reddish glow in his eyes.

Rebirth is not really difficult if you know how.

MULTIPLY Challenge #43: Route 66

“Carol I think we are running out of petrol.”
“No problem” said Carol “We have a tank in the car boot with reserve.”
Carol’s friend Julie looked a bit puzzled.
“What petrol. We used that up about four hours ago and I don’t remember seeing one of those gas stations as they call them here to fill it up again.”
“Just a minute, it’s been your turn to drive not mine, so you could have called in at the next petrol place and filled her up again.”
“There is a slight problem there Carol, whilst you were sleeping the miles away and I was driving I do not remember passing anything that looked like a gas station, petrol station or whatever. Not even a barn or a house, we are in no-man’s-land somewhere in America. I knew we should have spent our holidays somewhere like Italy or South France” Julie was annoyed, “but it was your idea to discover and do something completely different. This might be route 66 but you are certainly not Martin Milner and I am not Todd Stiles. We are two young English girls on holiday having fun and doing something different.“
“Oh shuttup” said Carol “and get the map out so that at least we can see where we are.”
“Always my fault” thought Julie. She rummaged through empty cans of coke and hamburger boxes until her fingers found the Route 66 map she had bought at the tourist agency in London. Was that a big map, after all it stretched from East to West across America. No-one told them that the road was so old and that a new motorway had been built.
“So where are we?” asked Carol.
Julie looked a bit concerned. “Well, yes I think we are somewhere in the middle bit, at least I remember crossing one of those State borders yesterday evening. That was when you said let’s drive through the night before you took a sleeping tablet, so I did.”
“Yes, but if we are in the middle bit as you so expertly say, then we should have seen a small town at least an hour ago, but I don’t remember seeing anything.
There is a small road just off to the right on this part of the map – you didn’t by any chance take that one did you.?” asked Carol
“Well, it was so dark and there was some sign about road works being done so I thought there was a diversion to the right and sort of took it. I couldn’t ask you, you were sleeping remember.
“Oh great, anything could happen.” Carol was worried again. “Remember that film with Lance Henriksen, you know Profile for Murder, where he was travelling on the highways and killing people all the time.”
“Stay cool Carol, up to now we havn’t even seen another car. The only thing that can happen is finding two skeletons somewhere on this highway as we will probably dehydrate if we don’t find a gas station soon. If I remember the last place we called in at to eat and get some provisions was called Alberkirky.”
“No wonder we are lost – just look where that is – in Mexico.”
“New Mexico to be exact, they still speak English not Spanish.”
“Well, you know what clever shoes, I am getting out of this car and am going to stretch my legs and the next good looker that drives past in a car or truck or whatever, I am going with him.”
“Carol, I wouldn’t if I was you. Remember the film Dual with Dennis Weaver.”
“We are not being followed by a truck so I don’t think that we will have a problem there. Come back to reality Julie, I think you have been seeing too many films. And you wasn’t even born when those two young men were travelling over Route 66 in the black and white days of television.”
“I know, but I thought as we were doing the trip I would look up a few things before we left England to see how it might be.”
“I have an idea” said Carol “what about one of us walking up the hill to see what is on the other side.”
“No way am I walking up that hill on my own” Julie was really getting annoyed. “There might be one of those old deserted mines on the other side, like in the Steven King stories. Suddenly I will disappear and where do you go then. You will probably follow me and we will both end up in the hands of a madman. He might even saw us up” said Julie.
“I’m thirsty, give me a can of coke or did you throw the last one away and not tell me. With you anything is possible.”
Carol decided she had had enough “if you must know there are 6 cans left – we bought them at a special offer in that Albekirky place and that was only a day or so ago.” And she threw a can at Julie narrowly missing her head with it but falling out of the open window of the car.
“Listen” said Carol “I can hear something that sounds like a car engine”
“You are right” answered Julie “the answer to our prayers. Come on stand at the side of the car and look good, it’s the help we need.”
“I hope so Julie, but I don’t want to look too good – we don’t even know whose car it is.”

The two girls did not have to wait long. A black Buick pulled up alongside the two girls and a suntanned head poked through the window.
“Hi, you two need help”
Carol wanted to say “Yes Please”, but Julie gave her a nudge as if to say take it easy, so Carol let Julie do the talking.
“We have a problem and have run out of gas. Could you help us out.”
“What wrong Chuck?” said another voice from the car.
“These two dames have a problem, no gas Todd. They need help.”
and then the two men Chuck and Todd got out of the car.

Julie and Carol were impressed by two tall young sun tanned men wearing sun glasses and blue jeans. Carol whispered to Julie that this was going to be fun. Julie was not so sure.

“Well let’s see what we have” said the one called Todd and opened the boot of the Buick enough for Julie to see that a blood stained axe was lying in the back of the car.

“Oh no”, Julie thought, “we are really now in the hands of two murderers”.
While Chuck and Todd were filling up the girl’s car Julie had an idea. She called over to Carol. “
“Carol do we still have the sleeping tablets we took with us for emergencies if we had trouble getting to sleep on the road.”
“No problem, but why?”
“Just go along with what I do and say, ok?”

“Chuck, Todd” called Julie “what about something to drink. I am sure you could do with a cola in this heat.”
“Well that’s very kind of you Miss. We won’t say No, will we Todd.”
“Much obliged Ma’m” said Todd and Julie went to the back of the car and poured out two plastic cups of Cola, but slipped at least 3 of the sleeping tablets in each one before giving the men their drinks.”

Chuck and Todd filled up the girl’s tank with gas and finished their drinks.
“How much do we owe you” asked Carol
“It was a pleasure to help” said the one called Todd “but we have to be getting on our way.”

The two men walked over to their car and slumped on the seats. The sleeping tablets were working.

“So Julie will you please tell me what this is all about” asked Carol.
“Have a look in the boot of the car” said Julie.
“Oh No” and Carol saw the blood encrusted axe at the back of the car. “Julie I think you have saved our lives.”
“So let’s get out of here as fast as possible” and Julie and Carol drove off on Route 66.

Three hours later Chuck and Todd woke up alone on the highway in their car.
“Chuck can you tell me what those two mad chicks were up to. There I was helping them with our gas and suddenly I don’t know anything more.”
“Well neither do I” answered Chuck. “All I know is that we had better get down the road quickly to Jake’s farm. He will be waiting for us to kill that pig of his. It ain’t fun visiting all those farms and doing the hard work of killing those animals. We decide to help someone and the only thanks that you get from two mad English women are knockout drops in a Cola. What is this world coming to Todd”.

A True Story about a cat

"Mrs. Human are you going to tell us a story about another cat?" asked Fluffy. Before I had a chance to answer My black long haired Nera cat came on the scene.
"I don't mind you telling about other cats Mrs. Human, but don't tell them about the degradation I suffered yesterday at the hands of Mr. Human.".
"Oh come on Nera" said her litter sister Tabby "it wasn't that bad and you really don't smell so bad any more and look much nicer."
"So cats" I said " I wouldn't have said anything but now everyone wants to know what happened."
"In that case I will tell it myself" and so Nera continued.
"There I was cooling down on the floor and then he packed me, Mr. Human. Not only that but he had a machine in his hand that had blades in it and it was humming. I think the humans call it an electric razor."
"And then" said Tabby and Fluffy together.
"Well, then he pinned me down my holding the wonderful silky fur I have at the back of the neck and I was helpless. Couldn't move right or left. And then he started going through my lovely fur and shortening the wonderful length I had. Mrs. Human was standing next to him gathering it all together. If that wasn't enough he then called for a second razor as the first got blunt and carried on. That wasn't so bad but then he decided that the job was not being done properly so he told Mrs. Human to fetch the scissors."
"Oh No, not the scissors" said Tabby and Fluffy in a terrifying miaow.
"Yes the scissors and cut lumps out of my fur."
"It wasn't that bad Nera. Mr. Human managed to cut out some twigs and dried up snails in your fur and everyone now agrees that you don't smell any more."
"Well that is definitely true Mrs. Human" said Fluffy.
"And you look much better" said Tabby.

And before we continue this conversation I want to tell a true cat story I read in the newspaper today.

There was a two year old cat living near where we live in Solothurn. On Saturday 26th April she suddenly disappeared. The owners of the cat searched for her for days but she was never found. The cat was an adventurous cat, always going on hunting trips and sometimes missing for a day, but always came back. The family thought that the cat was probably the victim of a martin or fox which are often in the neighbourhood.

On Saturday 5th July ten weeks later, the family had a telephone call at seven in the morning from Suhr, which is about 80 kilometers away from Solothurn. A lady on the phone told the family that their cat, Sila by name, had been living in her house for the last two days. She found the cat wandering and wanted to give it to the cat home, but they said they did not take in stray cats. Strange that you give so much money to a cat home as donations and they are not even interested in taking in a stray cat.

Then the lady went on to say that she noticed the stray cat had a collar with a pendant hanging on it, and the lady noticed that inside the pendant was a paper showing the telephone No. of the cat owners, so she called them to tell them their cat was safe and sound. Of course everyone was so happy to know that the cat had been found. The lady that found the cat put it in a travelling cage and drove the 80 kilometers to the house where the owners were and brought the cat home. During the car journey the cat was still and quiet. As soon as they arrived at her home the cat started miaowing loudly. She literally jumped out of the cage into the arms of its rightful owner and was licking them all over.

Naturally the family wondered how the cat managed to go 80 kilometers away from its family and came to the conclusion that the cat must have got into a lorry and was transported away in the lorry. The cat must have had a lot of adventures during her journey. She was a kilo lighter and had a few scars and was completely worn out. she had probably been looking for her house when she was found. Now the cat is really being spoilt and has been given vitamin and mineral rations from the vet and has slept a lot. She has already made up for the weight she lost so all's well that ends well.

I must admit I had a bit of wet eyes after I read that story.
"Is that why we all have a collar with that thing hanging on it Mrs. Human" asked Fluffy.
"Of course" said Nera, butting in on the conversation again "so that we find our way back home again."