The Great Escape

Just a nice peaceful photo of our blind cat Fluffy. He fell asleep in front of the tv. This morning it was not so peaceful. This is how it all begun.

Mr. Swiss got out of bed and I was still dozing. I then heard the call of desperation. Fluffy has got out. Our little blind Fluffy hammered around on the cat door enough during the night to shift the lock and escaped. It was 07.30 in the morning, so what do you do. Well this morning I cast all thoughts about looking good to the wind. I jumped out of bed (in a far as my broken arm would allow), put something on, packed my mobile telephone in my pocket and was out in the search party. In the meanwhile my other half had done the same and we started to look for a small white fluffy blind cat hoping that he had not become another road victim on the main road that passes through the village. Our other two cats, and most of the cats living on our estate, never go to that road. They sense that it is dangerous. Fluffy senses nothing, although blind life seems to be one big adventure for him and we knew that as soon as he was out, he was on his way.

To complicate things, the grass has grown very high and not yet been harvested, so if he was sitting in the grass you definitely would not find him. After touring the complete area, down to the River, the grounds of the local villa and all the paths, we had not found Fluffy. I met the postman on the way and told him of the problem, so he said he would keep an eye open, probably remembering the day when I once brought one of his tortoises home that escaped. It was taking a walk through the village. There are advantages of living in a small village where everyone knows everyone else sometimes. On my search one of the neighbours who actually lives opposite, saw me and asked if I was looking for something. I told her it was my cat and she said she knows the one as she often sees my husband going for a walk with him on the lead and promised she would pay attention.

I arrived home with no Fluffy, and so did my husband. I then phoned another neighbour. She lives in a higher block on the third floor, and promised to keep an eye from her balcony to see if she could see Fluffy.

Time passed, it was now almost 9 o'clock and still no Fluffy. Then my hubby decided to cross the main road and have a look on the other side in the castle grounds etc. etc. During the night there is almost no traffic and the chance was that Fluffy had crossed the road during the night. We did not even know when he escaped.

I stayed at home and just hoped, but had almost given up when the doorbell rung. It was my neighbour from next door. She told me that her husband was out in the garden and a lady came past and said she had seen a familiar cat huddle in the corner of the pavement at the end of the village. It seemed to be Fluffy, and my neighbour called her husband, but there was no answer. He had disappeared. I called my other half to say what was happening and all we could do was wait.

I must now say what wonderful people I know, especially my next door neighbours. They are a young married couple and have a baby and a cat. When her husband heard where Fluffy was, he decided there was no time to lose and sprinted, ran, as fast as possible to make sure Fluffy did not wander off. I would have needed at least 5-10 minutes to walk there and I cannot drive the car at the moment with my broken arm.

In the meanwhile my husband returned and we were just hoping and waiting that the neighbour had success. Were we relieved when he arrived with Fluffy in his arms. My neighbour was a hero and we were so glad and thankful. He really ran all the way to get our Fluffy. What wonderful neighbours we have. We were so glad to have Fluffy again. The rest of the morning my husband spent on reinforcing the cat flap. It was always fixed that the cats can only enter and not leave, but Fluffy just pushed too hard. The cat flap is now immovable from the inside.

Later on in the day the neighbour opposite phoned to ask if we had found our cat. I think Fluffy is now the most famous cat in the village. How lucky we were that he crossed the main road and survived. We are still looking for the lady that told our neighbour she saw him. It seems she was driving on the main road and saw him from the car, turned back into our village and told the neighbour. She herself had an appointment somewhere so she left. We are not sure who she is, but my husband thinks it is a lady he often sees when he goes for a walk with Fluffy.

What did Fluffy do when back at home. Well his first movement was for food and water, second movement to his cat box and third movement - let's try and see if I can get through the cat flap and go for a walk.

I don't think I will ever understand the workings of a feline mind.

MULTIPLY The Dare: The Bug

Did someone say about daring to show a bug. My photo section on the computer and Flickr are crawling with them. One of my hobbies, if it flies, creeps or crawls, then take a photo. I took this photo two days ago.

It is now the month of June and time for our June Bugs to go on their marriage flight. They are very punctual. About 09.15 in the evening you see them swarming from the ground up to the higher places. About 30 minutes later they have found what they are looking for and the spicy bit starts. They live as a weevil in the ground for a year or so. Eventually they go through their metamorphosis and are then fully grown June bugs. Their only purposes as a bug seems to meet another bug (of the opposite sex of course) and after high life in the trees the ladies lay their eggs and die.

I would say a short but happy life probably. By the way they have really ugly children but I will spare you with a photo. I am sure their mothers love them.

Click here for more

MULTIPLY United Friends Challenge #154: The Dancing Prince

Dio's Challenge

Write a story about a famous being, (that being can be either real or the product of imagination, for example George Washington, Scoobie-Doo, or Zuess).

The challenge is to write a story that explores a previously unknown facet *ahem* of that character's personality (For example, George Washington actually was the Joe Izuzu of the Founding Fathers, or Zeuss was secretly afraid of thunderstorms).

NOTE: the facet is previously unknown because you just made it up.

For this challenge, try to pick a subject who should be well known to everybody, or whose history is easily Googled.

Examples:

Joe Izuzu is here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDK8BYS2d9s

Scoobie-Doo is here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XR5CAo8J2g

(Scoobie-Doo is the dog).

While I have comedy in mind, yours can be funny or serious, your choice. Either Prose or Poetry is acceptable too, though this one will be much easier as prose.

Sometimes life just goes the wrong way no matter how hard you try. The problem was I was born in the wrong family. Mother was a queen and father, well he happened to marry her. They were probably in love otherwise I wouldn’t have had a sister and two brothers, although they didn’t really turn out the way mother wanted them too.

Anyhow they sent me to the best schools and I got everything a future King would get, although I didn’t ask for it, it was just put on a plate for me.

“Yes, but your highness, what was it that you really wanted?”

“I don’t have to want anything. I am giving this interview just once to be able to say the truth of the matter. I have made my terms quite clear.”

“Yes, your highness. The record of this interview will be locked in a safe and after fifty years from now, or upon your death will be made public.”

“Thank you, yes that is what I want. So here it is the real truth about me. I know everyone thinks that I am a nature lover; preserving landscapes and protecting rare animals. That makes it good for the public opinion. The truth is that I suffer from hay fever, and have to shut myself away through the summer months to avoid the pollen in the air. I have only seen rare animals in the zoo and that is the beginning and end of my interest.

My real love is the theatre.”

“That is no secret, sir, you often attend royal performances.”

“No, no, you do not understand. Not just theatre where plays and shows are performed. I love the dance.”

“You mean musicals.”

“No, not exactly, but sort of. You see throughout my life I have had the privilege to travel, see other cultures, other countries and it was then I eventually met my destiny, my life’s ambition. When the newspapers say I am on a tour saving wild animals and environment, it is good for publicity. The truth of the matter is I am following my life’s hobby and taking private lessons at the Bolshoi ballet in Moscow. It all started some years ago when I was at school and they chose me as the star of the school musical. I remember the feeling I had the first time I was dressed for the part. I was given ballet tights and shoes and shown the basics. Of course I was only 8 years old at the time but I will never forget the feel of being on the stage and the centre of attention for all. Of course it wasn’t made public. Discretion was the rule for a member of the royal family.

My father then sent me to a terrible school, to teach you to be a man. I became one, but I so missed the culture at my previous school. It was then that the Bolshoi ballet company visited our country and I attended one of their performances. My destiny was sealed. Being a prince I sort of impressed them and I made a return visit to their country. It was then that I was granted a secret wish to have lessons. At first they just did it for the money, but discovered I had talent.”

“You mean you were engaged for a performance.”

“Oh yes, no problem. Under all that makeup and costumes my incognito was sure. For a small financial sum, the ballet group kept quiet about it. Being a prince is all very well, but all that environment rubbish and meeting all those foreign politicians, holding stuffy conversations and being nice to everyone. What a load of rubbish. On the stage I can forget my problems. A dying swan is much nicer to hold and throw up in the air and catch her again then walking through fields of flowers polluting the air with pollen and causing a running nose and eyes. The springs I make in my performances, they are not to be compared. My Russian ballet professor always said how light I was on my feet, and my long legs gave me such a wonderful movement. Did you see Swan Lake performed by the ballet company when they visited our country ten years ago? That was a triumph and no-one recognised me on the stage. What a little bit of make up and costume can do.”

“This is indeed a revelation your highness. Are you still dancing?”

“No, no, my dancing days are over. We male dancers have to call it a day eventually. As the years go bye, the joints just don’t do it any more and springing around on the stage does get a bit risky. You know I got married again, the biggest mistake I made, but I had to keep mother happy. Too much talk in the newspapers. My wife found my ballet tights once in my clothing cupboard. I told her that they were a present from one of the visiting ballet companies to our country. I am still not sure that she believed me, but she is enjoying her new job too much as a Prince wife to risk any problems.

So that is my confession. Please keep the details to yourself; we don’t want a major crisis developing in the Kingdom at the moment, especially as things are now calming down a bit. Mother has not had an easy life with her children; one day the details can be printed in a book for future generations.”

“Of course, your highness, you may remain assured that this interview remains under cover, until the day comes.”

“And it will only be printed in Russian.”

“Da, I mean yes sir.”

And with those closing words Prince Charles of England said goodbye to the Russian journalist. That evening his wife was visiting her mother, and Prince Charles spent a very quiet evening reading through the various reviews on his dancing talent and perusing his album of photos.

For more Click here

MULTIPLY Visual Aid #12: Playing Soldiers

„Here we are again playing soldiers for our country that never has a war. I will be glad when this military service thing is finished Hans.”

“I only have this year and it’s all over and I won’t be sorry, although I really don’t see the point of all this chasing around in the woods after an enemy that doesn’t exist. You know Dieter it seems to me our officers are running out of ideas. We both have to wear a red stripe around our arm, because we belong to the reds and we are fighting the blues. What happens if we are colour blind, then how do you recognised a blue?"

“Don’t ask silly questions Hans, just do it. The quicker we get this stupid game behind us the better. Where are we going anyhow, show me the map.”

“Dieter, I think the idea is to follow this path up to the thicket over there with those trees; looks like there is someone waiting for us to show us the way further.”

“Looks like it, but he doesn’t seem to belong to us, no red or blue stripe. Perhaps it is one of the officers keeping an eye on us.”

“Halt.”

“Did you say something Hans?”

“No, not me, I think it was that guy dressed up in the funny costume over there.”

“I said halt, or you will feel the edge of my sword.”

“Do what, now just a moment. Playing war games is one thing, but don’t you think you are going a little bit too far. Which regiment are you in, and what part are you playing in this exercise?”

“I do not understand you strangers, you are infringing on my territory and can go no further, otherwise the wrath of the Gods will hit you. This forest is holy territory, only to be trodden by the tribes of Bog and its followers.”

“Hey, which film are you in, or where did you escape from?”

“Dieter, keep calm; you know how those officers like to play a joke now and again. Let’s just humour him, I am sure this is part of the training programme.”

“If you say so Hans, but he does look a bit funny dressed up in all that leather and steel, although his hair style could well be from one of the characters you might meet in a heavy rock band. Let me do the talking."

"OK, leader of Bog or whoever, are you with the reds or the blues, or just being neutral?”

“I am a soldier with the tribe of Bog. Our lands begin here at this place and I will protect my tribe until all such foreign warriors as yourself are eliminated.”

“Ok, joke over. We are just ordinary soldiers having a practice at playing war and afterwards we all sit together around a nice warm fire, have a drink of beer together and a good laugh.”

“Bog warriors do not laugh, we learn other things. You see the bow of this tree. Now watch what I do with one swish of my sword. So barbarians, you are now not laughing, with one swipe I have cut this trunk in two and so will it be with your heads. On your knees.”

“Now listen Bog soldier, or whoever, we are not barbarians but civilised members of the human society. I don’t know what asylum you escaped from, but somehow I think you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, isn’t he Dieter.”

“Yes, definitely Hans and just to show you what we mean, just watch what we can do with our weapon. You see that bird sitting in the top branch of that tree. Well this is how we deal with them.”

“This is black magic, people such as you are burnt in our Kingdom of Bog; killing a bird with noise and fire at such a great distance. “

“That is nothing Bog, we can kill you at a short distance before you lift that swordy thing in your hand. Where did you buy it; at the local toyshop, or were they giving them away as free samples at the last Star Wars film.”

“My name is not Bog, but Wrath, my Kingdom is Bog.”

“So where is this Kingdom of Bog and where are the rest of you? A pretty poor figure you are dressed up like a fancy dress figure at the edge of a forest.”

“Do not mock me strangers. I have been on duty for many moons at the edge of this forest.”

“So when did you see the last Boggers, or whatever you call the characters in your kingdom.”

“Hans, I think he is crying.”

“Oh do not mock me, it is true, I have been guarding this entrance to the forest for many years. I would like to return to my folk again.”

“You know what Dieter, I slowly think this guy believes all this Bog stuff.”

“Yes, he does seem quite convinced. Look, he is drying his tears with his hair.”

“Well I supposed he would, he has enough.”

“What shall we do? I mean we can’t just leave him here.”

“I know. Listen Mr. Wrath of Bog, how about you showing us where this Bog place is.”

“It is through the forest on the other side.”

“But on the other side is the main motorway through our country.”

“Motorway?”

“Yes, you know where we move from one place to another.”

“You mean in chariots.”

“Yes, in chariots.”

“Dieter what are you talking for rubbish?”

“Hans do you want your head chopped off with a playmobile sword, or do you want to live. I am just humouring this maniac.”

“I will lead you, barbarians, but you remain behind me. My folk will take revenge if you kill me with your magic swords.”

“Ok, Dieter, let’s follow and see what happens. The noise of the motorway is getting louder and he is walking towards the traffic.”

“Well he was Hans, but now he seems to have disappeared.”

“That’s true, nowhere to be seen. I think we better get on with the job. Dieter, after all we are doing an army practice and not escorting escaped patients from a mental asylum.”

“Look there is the officer.”

“Where have you been men, we thought you had been kidnapped by the blues. You are the only free members of the red troop left. Well done. As it is the last evening of our exercise, you are all invited to a drink in the army centre. Yes we are pleased with the results of this training.”

“Hans shall we tell him about that guy?”

“What guy men?”

“Oh, nothing sir.”

As they left the forest they passed a signpost.

Forest of Bogland, named after the ancient tribes of Bog that once lived in the area. Their existence has been proved by various relics found in excavations when building the motorway. Their population was decimated by invasions from other tribes

Visual Aid #12

MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #26: The Mountain

“Thank you for the interview Mr. Widmer” said the journalist.

“No problem” was the answer “I am glad to oblige” and the journalist left the mountain chalet situated in a village embedded between the high alpine mountains.

Fritz Widmer was now sunk in thought. He had recently celebrated his eightieth birthday and was honoured that the newspaper had remembered him and wanted an interview based on his mountain climbing experiences. Those days were not even so far gone. He was lucky to be able to maintain his good health and did his last “four thousander” (meters) only a couple of years before. However, now was the time to forget hopping around in the alps and to settle down and watch how the youngsters succeeded. Of course, they had much more modern equipment than he did; steel with a strength not known in the first days of mountaineering and ropes, no longer ropes but synthetic, nylon, being able to bear a weight that was not able in the earlier days.

The journalist wanted to know about the first ascent he made on the north wall of the Number One as it was known. He told them what they wanted to hear, but reflecting on his actual experience he had left some of it unmentioned.

The north wall was overhanging; a difficult feat for even an experienced climber, but Fritz and his colleague Emil had decided to be the first to do it; two young men who met at the university and had the same hobby, mountain climbing. They departed in the early evening for the ascent to the mountain hut, maintained by the local climbing organisation. This was the first step in their climb and their last night together before they got to the actual ascent. At four in the morning the two men left the hut, laden with their rucksacks containing all the tools they needed and roped together. The weather forecast was good; a sunny clear day awaited them. They knew they had to get off early in the morning before the ice started melting, before the mountain path got too treacherous and slippery. They had good shoes with spikes, but having the shoes was one part of the adventure, knowing how to use them was the other.

“How do you feel Fritz” said Emil “do you think it will be a good climb?”

“As long as the weather stays fine” was the answer “and no clouds arrive. It could get dangerous the higher we get. I just hope we have no loose stones falling on our heads.”

Both men knew that would be the most dangerous of the adventure. An overhanging wall always contained its secrets and stones were the most unpredictable. Weather was also a uncertain factor in the mountains. It could change in a few minutes. They made their way slowly but surely and soon reached the half way crevice. It was known as such as the mountain had a break in the wall.

“Was this where it happened?” asked Emil.

“You mean the disappearance” answered Fritz. “Yes, one of the first roped teams lost their way; two of our best mountaineers, my father and his brother. The weather changed and they were never seen again. But we have no choice, it is getting darker, temperatures are getting colder and this is the only place wide enough to take our rest for the night.”

The two men lit a small fire and filled a small pot with some ice that they scrapped from the surrounding stones. The idea was to make some tea. They opened their rucksacks and took some dry meat and had a small meal.

“I don’t like the look of that sky” said Emil “too many dark clouds.”

“You are right; I just hope it holds for us.”

The two men lay together on the narrow ledge in their sleeping bags and tried to get some sleep, but they could already hear the echoes of thunder in the distance. It was then that the rain mixed with snow started falling; bringing some small pebbles with it.

“Emil, quickly put together what you can and into the crevice in the mountain. It is dangerous, but less dangerous than being exposed on this ledge.”

The two men did their best to get into the crevice and then the heavens opened and a full mountain storm began. They were so surprised that they could not take all the equipment with them, and most important, their compass was hit by a stone and broke. They both spent a very cold and uncomfortable night on the mountain. They had already started writing letters of farewell to their families, in case they were ever found, having given up with being rescued. Only few mountaineers in those days had ventured on Number One and the route was not so well known.

During the early morning hours they decided either they marched on further or had no hope left. The men looked at the path, but it had become unrecognisable. Through the covering of snow and ice and the dangers of falling stones, a further march was almost impossible. It was then that Fritz saw something.

“Look Emil, footprints; prints of mountain shoes. Can you see them?”

“You are right Fritz, shall we follow them.”

“I think it would be our only chance.”

And carefully they marched, tied together with their ropes, following the prints. At one point Fritz looked back to where they had spent the night. He could have sworn he saw two figures standing there dressed in the old mountain clothes of days gone by. The figures were just standing as if frozen stiff. Then there was a flurry of snow and they disappeared. They marched on and eventually found themselves on the last slope leading to the top. They both knew they were saved. If they reached the top, it would be a quicker descent on the safe south wall of the mountain.

Fritz had kept this story for himself when the journalist came. Emil had died a few years ago and he was the only person with memories of this ascent. When mountaineering became safer the equipment better there was a expedition again to the Number One. Emil accompanied the expedition and when they arrived at the memorable place where Emil and Fritz had spent the night, they found two frozen figures. The mountain had given back Emil’s uncle and father. “Perhaps they had been standing there since that memorable ascent many years ago” thought Fritz.

If you now visit the little mountain cemetery in the village where Fritz lives you will see many mountaineer’s graves of those that were found in the mountains. One particular grave is very well known. It is that of Fritz father and uncle. Apart from the stone with the names, there are also two mountain shoes. They were those belonging to the two men. Fritz had them preserved in a metal coating. They are a reminder of the night when Fritz and his colleague Emil thought they had climbed their last mountain.

Rita's "Riting" Challenge #26

MULTIPLY United Friends Challenge #153: Hallelujah

Desnath's Challenge

Write about "The day I won the Lottery"
You may not use the word "Money"

There are just some things in life that cannot be explained, but they happen. It was my turn to do the daily shopping. Brother Domenicus gave me a list and I made my way into town. It was then that it happened. “Oh Lord, please forgive me”. It was not that a ray of sunshine struck me and illuminated my person, or that I heard a choir of angel voices. No, nothing like that at all, it was a stormy day, grey skies thick with clouds and it had started to rain. I must admit when I saw it lying on the road, absorbing the first rain drops, there did seem to be a very loud clap of thunder, or perhaps I imagined it. To continue, it was a lottery ticket; some poor soul hoping for success in life, for a reward for his existence on the earth, had bought a lottery ticket and lost it. Why should I, Brother Innocence, find this ticket? What fate had brought me on this day to stumble upon this ticket.

Perhaps I should explain further. I am now writing this down, and will show everything to the abbot tomorrow morning, only then will I received perhaps understanding for my crime against our community and forgiveness, even absolution. It might be my last day in our community, my last day with my brothers who have looked after me for so many years.

When I reflect on the past, after my twenty years as a monk, I have never regretted my choice, although perhaps it was not my choice but guided by a power greater than any on earth. In my younger days I was not an example of purity. Oh yes, I sinned, but from my sins I learned, although it was not easy.

I remember the last words from Shifty, my boss of our street gang.

“Jeff” he said using my worldly name of the time, “it will only be for two years. Something went wrong at the bank robbery. I know you were only keeping a watch on things, while I was in the bank taking the money, but it was you the police caught. You cannot dream how upset I am, but you must take the sentence upon yourself on my behalf and that of the gang. When you leave prison your rewards will be given and a life as my second man will be waiting for you.”

Of course I was flattered. At the age of 30 years, two years later I would still be a young man and my life at Shifty’s side would be a guaranteed success. Unfortunately Shifty never took it so exact with the truth. I got fifteen years, which admittedly were reduced to ten through good behaviour, and I never saw Shifty again, although I did hear that he was shot by a rival gang wanting to take over his territory. I suppose the paths of the Lord do sometimes find the right way; back to the story.

My life in prison was not so bad. I think it was the first time in my wasted life that I had regular meals. It was then through a prison colleague I heard that if I attended the regular Sunday church service, conducted by the brothers at a near bye monastery, I would be exempted from kitchen duties on Sunday. Hey brothers, this was ideal. I did not dig religion really, the only time I saw the inside of a church was when I robbed the offering box for a few coins to buy some beer. Oh Lord was I a sinner.

So as time past, I really enjoyed the services. One day one of the monks, Brother Hubertus, took me on one side after the service.

“Jeff, I think inside you are a good man. I notice the way you are involved in our services with your heart and spirit; when will you be leaving the prison?”

“I have a year of my sentence and then I will be free.”

“Have you ever thought of joining us at the monastery? You would be welcome and my brothers also find that you life has been a combination of unfortunate circumstances. Please think it over.”

So I started to think things over and when I left the prison I visited Brother Hubertus at the monastery. He showed me around and I liked what I saw, perhaps still thinking about the square meal I would be getting every day. The praying did not bother me at all, and after being cooped up so long in prison, I decided that work in a monastery garden would be just the thing. Brother Hubertus informed that I would no longer possess any worldly goods and everything I owned would belong to the monastery. Well those few pennies I had, I decided I would not miss. Things just sort of happened and here I am today, Brother Innocence, twenty years service in our monastery.

I felt good, I did not even miss the women, I had my colleagues, my brothers. Then I found the lottery ticket. I put the ticket in the folds of my long brown monk’s frock and almost forgot it. It was then that I was on the way again for Brother Domenicus and I saw the poster announcing the winning number – Hallelujah, it was mine. Not quite hallelujah, how can a monk win money. Something of my past must have remained, and I decided to see if Lofty, Shifty’s brother, was still around. He owned a restaurant down town so I entered by the back door and asked to see him. I was a strange figure with my roman sandals and brown frock, but I think the kitchen personnel took pity on me and gave me a paper bag with fresh bread to take to the monastery for my brothers. There is always something good in mankind, if you search long enough.

I asked for Lofty and was he surprised to see me. He said he always respected my choice for going to prison for his brother. I then made a proposition and he accepted. For ten percent of the lottery win he organised everything for me. I was probably the only monk with a bank account. Lofty was happy, it was not a small sum, and he agreed to follow my instructions in dealing with the profit.

So Lord I have written it down, my sins are now in black and white, and heaven help me to explain the whole sinful work to the abbot.

The next morning after morning prayers we were all gathered together in the breakfast room and the abbot entered and took his place. He began to speak, looking at each one of us with concentration. I was sure he suspected something. These were his words,.

“Brothers it was my intention to call you together with some bad news today.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“As some of you may know, our small group has been threatened with reduced funds. Today no-one has a heart for each other, and donations are far and few between. I had started to make arrangements for the dispersal of our group and with heavy heart to send you all, my good friends and brothers, to other monasteries, perhaps even to retirement, no longer to spend our happy days together helping mankind and living in this place we have called home for so long.”

There was a murmur amongst my brothers, and some of the older colleagues had tears in their eyes.

“However, brothers, we have been saved. Somewhere in this world someone looked upon us with mercy. Yes, the Lord does indeed move in mysterious ways. Today I have been informed that we have received a donation, not small, enough to ensure that the monastery will exist for many years. It was anonymous, we do not know where it came from, but we are saved. We will now say a prayer for this person and will keep him in our thoughts for always. Amen”

So what did I do, well what would you have done in those circumstances? I said a big prayer for the donator and decided that I and the Lord would definitely see eye to eye with the solution.

MULTIPLY Poetry Posse Week 35 - An "easy" Haiku

You trip, fall, broken
Not easy with just one arm
But life continues

An "Easy" Haiku

MULTIPLY Mono Monday Plus #49 (MM #63)

I did not have a lot of chance to do something artistically striking this week as I do still have one arm a bit handicapped, although I can move the fingers. Most of my newest recent photos were taken from the hospital window so I chose this one. Basically a view over the countryside, but if you look carefully you can see the beginnings of a motorway tunnel on the right with a restaurant. This motorway exists only about two years and to preserve the country are where there a many farms and wild deer etc. it was decided to build a very long tunnel under it all and here is where the tunnel starts. We used to have a 35 minute drive through many small villages and countryside to the next big town of Biel from Solothurn and now thanks to the motorway it takes only about 15 minutes. We didn't even hear any noise from the cars in the hospital ward. Although quite near I did bring it a bit nearer with my camera. Anyhow there was not much I could do with the photo, so I decided on a monochrome and flattened it. I then converted to sepia and brought the modern motorway parts in monochrome. I then did a frame. All the work was in Piknik and here is the result.

Larger Size

And now for something I planned to put up two weeks ago, but unfortunately a small accident came in the way. It is my project for Gary's challenge. I did not really know what to bring, but it so happened that our local high school had a concert of the big band and the jazz workshop which my husband and I visited. My husband plays for a jazz combination, drums, sort of bi-bop mainstream and takes drum lessons at the school. His drum teacher leads the big band and another colleague, who is bass player, organises the jazz workshop. The musicians are all students at the high school, and we really enjoyed the evening. Apparently when the idea was born some members of the teaching department were a bit dubious about jazz instead of classic, but jazz won and the result is good. Anyhow I took three photos: one of the big band, a photo of some piano music notes I have (I also play - it was a Duke Ellington piece) and took a photo of my son's electric piano as follows:

I then made three layers in CS3 Photoshop and played around with the magic wand, eraser, clone tool and goodness knows what else. It was so long ago I cannot remember. Anyhow I then had the finished product and did a sort of poster for the concert - here is the result.

Larger Size

Although late, I decided to post it here as I had done quite a bit of work on it. And now, for those that want to hear what they sound like, here is a small video I made. The quality does not do the music so much credit as I only did a bit more than a minute with my Panasonic camera. Introducing the Jazz workshop of the Solothurn County High School.

MULTIPLY Pictures and Words - Week 3

How many years, how many packs, how many wives and children filled his past? He had lost count. He was still the most respected and honoured as leader of the wolf pack. Remembered the days when he and his tribe were hunted. Humans armed with weapons, killed for their fur, just for the fun of it, his revenge had mounted over the years and today, he was just too tired. Justice always has its rewards. The humans were now fighting each other, so perhaps this was their just reward. The pack still lived in the forest, but would follow him, nearer to the town every day . There was a pregnant silence that now hovered over the concrete ways and houses. Waiting until men would hunt men, killing what was in the way. In a way he was satisfied, they now have their just rewards. So they should die, mercilessly and with no honour as my children, wives and brothers died. They had no sorrow for killing us; after all we are just wolves.

One evening he risked a visit into the town taking two of the strongest; just for a look, just to see how much the human spirit was broken. Buildings with broken glass in the windows, some bodies lying on the pavements, barely clad in their tattered garments. He told his fellow wolves to be very careful, there might be some humans looking for prey. It was then that they saw in the distance three men, but not armed with guns. They sleeked quietly in the direction, the smell of human sweat and fear in their nostrils. It went quickly, the wolves took revenge and dragged the dead flesh back to their women and children. Their leader howled to announce their arrival and all was good.

The wolves were re-occupying their lost territory. What was once wolf habitat was slowly again being conquered. The wolves increased in numbers and it was soon that the humans lived in fear of them and hid. One evening something changed. He noticed something was different, just a small item, but there was a sweet smell in the air he very rarely noticed. He then heard a cry, a soft cry, but persistent.

“Come brothers, let us see what is there” and they entered an old house. The noise became louder and more intense. The pack entered a room and he warned them to be careful. He then saw it moving on the floor in a corner, wrapped in a once white cloth, but now showing the traces of dirt gathered over time. “How dirty are the humans” he thought and went closer. He picked up the writhing something in his jaws by the cloth and decided to bring it to his lair as a living trophy.

The returned to their females and children and he placed the small human baby on the ground amidst his folk. The female wolves were suspicious and so were their kin, but in every civilised environment there is an exception, even amongst wolves.

“What have we here?” said the leader’s chief woman “so innocent and small and smelling so sweet” and she licked it with her long pink tongue, carefully.

And so the others in the pack came closer and watched. The leader was satisfied. In his far gone memories he had thoughts of a town once founded by humans brought up by wolves. He did not know if this would happen again, but wolves were not monsters. They were animals looking after their own kind, and he decided so low that the human race had sunk, the wolves must rise and show that love and understanding could perhaps heal and renew the world. With time the wolf pack rescued some of the babies weaning them on their milk and the babies grew up together with the wolves.

The great chieftain of the wolves decided his time had come and one day he rested his head and body for ever, but his pack remained holding his memory in honour. Wolf and man were now united and if the world was now a better place to live – who knows?

Pictures and Words: Week 3

MULTIPLY Images and Words - Sky Week 6

Larger Size

Sky Week 6

The Accident - Part 3

It was gradually getting to the end of my holiday/stay in the local hospital. Things were getting into a routine. Breakfast at 7 in the morning, in bed naturally, afterwards a half hour relaxation and then a wash and more laying around. I could really get used to the life of luxury. We had an interesting case that arrived in the ward around 2 in the morning on Sunday. A young lady had been to a hard rock concert in a local small town. Nothing unusual and after the concert was having a drink outside with her colleagues. Then a driver drove off from the parking lot and managed to drive over her foot. He naturally continued his journey and did not bother to look what he had run over. The poor girl did not even notice it at first but then the pain started. Her colleagues brought her to the hospital and the result of the x-ray was not so good. More broken bones than complete bones. However after a longer operation they managed to piece things together again with wire and screws. She had a local aneasthetic in her back so could listen to Pink Floyd through the ear phones whilst they were operating. She was a lovely girl and brought some fun into the ward with her various colleagues who were visiting and phoning quite a lot. She said it was a good job she had the high "heavy rock" boots on otherwise the damage would have been worst. She also had to take her rings off for the operation (I think she had about 20 on her fingers).

My husband would visit once a day, he would have come more but I told him there was no point rushing off to the hospital every evening as well, after all he had three cats to look after at home. He was not sad, but said that since I was in the hospital our chief cat Nera had decided not to come home any more and spent the days and nights outside, often sleeping on the porch. The smallest cat Fluffy decided that the best sleeping place was on the settee next to my husband and our other cat just did what she wanted to, which was normal.

When Mr. Swiss came to visit we usually went together to the hospital restaurant and could sit outside and have a drink. I then noticed the sparrows that hung around the outside tables looking for crumbs and food falling on the floor. I have never seen such well fed fat sparrows. They had the ideal life in that hospital and were quite tame, hopping around on the tables and picking the rewards. Unforunately I did not have my camera with me.

Slowly the time came to say good bye. On my last morning the station doctor gave me all the documents I needed for further attention. She said I do not have to have the stitches taken out, they dissolve. I had to visit my splint friend Freddy for a last check and he said that is a joke. He can see the knots in the "seam" through the plastic covering and the stitches do not dissolve, they have to be removed. Back in the ward I told the doctor, she had another look, phoned the surgeon that operated and had to rewrite the leaving letter saying I have to visit my doctor to have the stitches removed. Eventually with about one hour's delay we left the hospital, like two teenagers hand in hand, but only because I was very shaky on my feet getting into the fresh air again.

I now have to go to the physio therapy once a week to get my arm working 100%, visit my doc to have the seam removed and in a month's time go and see the surgeon that operated so that he could have a look at his pièce de résistance on my arm. I also have to go and see the neuroligist to see if everything is responding I suppose. Yesterday Mr. Swiss spent one hour ironing and he has to help me with the cooking as peeling potatoes with one hand does not work. Yesterday I even managed to clean the windows. Mr. Swiss went shopping so I decided to have a go and it worked. I have a good system, and really only needed one hand. My son was at home so he organised the blinds for me. Every day I can do a bit more.

I do actually belong to the first aid group in our village so a lot of the hospital stuff was not so strange or new to me. One of the ladies in charge of the group phoned me to ask how things were and I told her I think I learnt more about first aid in the seven days in hospital than the eight years I have belonged to the group and she agreed. There is nothing better to watch things being tried out on real suffering humans, after all we only practice in the group.

So that was my adventure hospital, one of those blogs I hope does not have to repeat itself. Here I am sitting on my bed ready to go home. The cushion is now my constant companion. If I am not wearing my arm brace I have to have it under my arm to keep the arm upright.