Daily Prompt: Young At Heart

Posted in Challenges by angloswiss

What are your thoughts on aging? How will you stay young at heart as you get older?

Baseltor, Solothurn

One of the two gates to the Roman founded town of Solothurn in Switzerland and they are old, you could even say ancient. The whole town is old, although it has been modernised, now and again only to be returned partially to the original state. We had modern paving to walk on but the town powers decided the old cobbled streets were nicer and so the old cobbled streets returned, but only in the central part of town.

And now to me, but come on, are you serious? I should tell everyone how I stay young at heart, even if I am 67 years old, with my hair more grey than grey and movements not as they used to be. Everything seems to be slow motion these days.

I suppose it all begins when you meet someone you have known for many years and say “Hello ……..”. Yes the dots have replaced the name of the person, because you just cannot remember the name. It is at the tip of your tongue, but buried somewhere in the cobwebs that have begun to spin their net around the brain. Then of course, there is the car key, you know the key you need to drive the car and you cannot find it. Of course, you can, you have simply forgotten where you put it. It is found, exactly where it should be, but you searched in the wrong place.

Eventually you are on your way to the shopping expedition and it occurs to you that the letter you wanted to take with you for the post is still laying at home on the table, together with the shopping list. You do your best and wander around the supermarket trying to remember what you actually needed or wanted. On the other hand if you do remember to take the list with you, and buy everything on the list, you will arrive home and realise that you forgot to write a few things down that you needed.

There is also the case of remembering to take your tablets, or did you actually take it or not. Perhaps you did, so if you take it again it means you have taken two. The tablet list is a long one: the ones for the diabetes, the ones for the restless legs during the night and the cholesterol tablets. You also might have the anti-giddy tablets, and of course the daily asprin to prevent the inevitable heart attack, which could occur. Perhaps some of the necessary substances in the body are no longer there as they should be, and there is definitely a tablet to replace them. As you walk, you can hear them all rattling around inside the body. Oh happy days.

Staying young at heart is the least of the problems. Of course, I still like to listen to a good old rock and roll, even heavy metal and it is probably loud. This because the hearing is not as good as it used to be. I would love to dance to something modern, but your back decides it is not in the mood, and if you do not suffer an attack of lumbago, you might even fall in the attempt.

I never used to sleep after lunch; I would make myself ready for a trip outside. My trips in the afternoon are now into the garden, weather permitting, but after my golden oldie sleep. I have to think twice before I even go anywhere and usually not just for a walk, but because I have to perform some task like visiting the doctor to pick up my anti-aging tablets, perhaps a visit to the opticians for new glasses (naturally stronger than the last glasses) or to the dentist to see how many teeth are now decaying and how many have to be replaced or fixed with an expensive dental engineering job, that is if you still have you own teeth.

Bedtimes change, the days when you were wide awake until midnight watching your favourite show on the TV, or even going out for a meal in the evening, are slowly dwindling. You can be happy if you are still awake at ten in the evening and yours eyes have not yet closed, hypnotised by the flickering TV screen.

You find you are perhaps occupied with checking that your life insurance is in order. You inform the kids where to put you for your last resting place. Cremation or burial seems to be a subject that enters into the conversation now and again, especially when you realise that the old colleagues you knew are no longer there or dwindling in numbers. OK, I am not yet that far gone, but when I think of my 98 year old father who has almost no colleagues from the old days, then it is food for thought.

Perhaps a dim picture of the future, but it could be you. Things happen as you grow older, that you really never expected. Growing old is not pleasant but you just get on with it. All I hope is that I have a good send off, a nice long obituary in the newspaper and that they do not forget to engrave my WordPress web address in the stone. I love to think of the visitors to the eternal happy hunting grounds all searching for a pencil and paper and writing it down to have a look when they arrive home (if it still exists, but it will, that will be in my testament).

So you youngsters out there, do not forget, enjoy it while you can. We have a custom in Switzerland. When you are out for a walk perhaps on a country path, and people pass by, you greet them. You do not know them, but it is polite. There is a small rule to apply. The youngsters greet first. I always obeyed and greeted first of all, now I find they are greeting me first of all. There must be a moral to that one somewhere.

Have fun everyone, see you perhaps tomorrow, my last words of wisdom for a week. On Monday I am away in London visiting my dad and will not have time to write long episodes divulging my newest adventures in the golden oldie world.

Daily Prompt: Young At Heart

Young Pingbacks

21Mar2014

Daily Prompt: Three Coins In The Fountain

Posted in Challenges by angloswiss

Have you ever tossed a coin or two into a fountain and made a wish? Did it come true?

17. Fountain

Not exactly Fonatana Di Trevi in Rome, but a small fountain in a garden restaurant somewhere in a Swiss village. This was not for throwing coins.

The real thing is in Rome, and yes, been there and done it. What a disappointment after throwing my coin in the fountain to realise that after approximately a week, the town workers arrive with an electric powered shovel, scoop up all the coins and probably split the profits among themselves, or even deliver them to the Italian authorities. One way or the other, the granted wishes are more luck than judgement. What did I wish, well I was about eighteen years old at the time, spending two weeks in Italy and my four days in Rome were occupied with other things apart from wishing.

My wishes did not seem to bring me luck when my friend and I (a female – too young to go on holiday with something male, and in those days it was not done so much) decided to visit the opera in Rome. We were both opera fans and there is in Rome an open air theatre Terme di Caracalla where operas are performed, so friend and I decided to go. Our hotel was not in the centre of Rome, probably because Rome did not have one centre, but many, which made this excursion even more complicated. We arrived at the bus stop, we had to take two different busses. The first was easy, and we even found the second bus, known as line Chi (Line C, but the Italians say it differently). We arrived at the opera after crossing the town of Rome which took about an hour. We entered the opera place, an open air theatre, and took our seats. It was August, when the mosquitos are at their best, and ready to feed on fresh blood to ensure that their babies develop and grow. Unfortunately they decided to feed on us, so we were sitting outside waving our hands most of the time, not in appreciation of the opera, but to drive the vampire insects away.

The opera we watched? It was Madame Butterfly: not my favourite, many female singers with loud high screeching voices dotted with a few men, and arias that seemed to go on for ages. However, it was all part of the experience; we were there and did it. Now the exciting part begins.

The opera was finished and it was time to take bus Chi on the way back to the hotel. Unfortunately the opera finished after midnight, and the last bus Chi had departed, so there was no bus. What do you do? You walk. We had a lovely sightseeing trip along the wide Roman roads, and many cars pulled up full of young men asking if we wanted a lift. We politely said no and walked on admiring the view of the Coliseum at midnight and trying to ignore the whistling men driving past. We still had a faint hope that even if bus Chi had gone to bed, our second bus might still be circulating. Unfortunately it seemed that no busses were circulating in Rome so late.

Then we were saved, after walking about thirty minutes, the answer to our fears appeared on the horizon, St. Peters in the Vatican City. What could be safer, in the shelter of the Pope. If we had no bus, we were sure he could help (even if we were Church of England) and perhaps he had a room free for the night, we might have even converted. We arrived at the large square in front of his apartment. This square was empty except for two groups of people. I approached the first group and asked in my best Italian (my friend could not speak Italian) if they could tell us where the bus departed. This group looked safe as it was a family with children. Unfortunately they were French, did not know Rome and did not understand us.

We moved on to the second group, two ladies and two men. The ladies were American, listened to our adventure and said we will take you to the hotel. Our friends (the two men) have a car, no problem. We did not know whether to agree or not, imagining the headlines in the morning newspaper, two English tourists found naked in the River Tiber clutching a programme of the opera Madame Butterfly. Our doubts must have been obvious as the American lady said, the men were their friends and both were doctors. Fun, at least if we were going to die we would have a professional job done.

We had no big choice and climbed into the car, which now contained six people. The Italian dottore knew where the hotel was, no problem. After driving a few minutes, we heard the sound of a siren and a police car signalled us to stop. The next headlines, two English tourist women imprisioned, for travelling in a car containing Mafiosi, because they were too late for bus Chi. We had luck, it was not the police, how silly, it was the carabiniere, which was a step higher on the ladder. Perhaps they do not even take prisioners. The two American ladies told us to keep calm, their friends would deal with it.

The two men climbed out of the car and had a long conversation with the carabiniere, waving hands in the air, showing documents and talking in loud voices. The carabiniere were also talking in loud voices. This seemed to work, probably the Italian way of solving problems. My friend and I said we would walk to cause no further trouble, but the men said no problem, we were just too many in the car and it was suspicious.

Eventually we were at our hotel. We thanked our rescuers and arrived at the iron gate to the hotel which was locked. Big deal: we decided to do the loud voice trick and it worked and the hotel people opened the gate. Even the lady in charge of our tourist group was there. Everyone was very amused, except for my friend and I. I still do not like Madame Butterfly, even if it was one of Puccini’s best.

Daily Prompt: Three Coins In A Fountain

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20Mar2014

Daily Prompt: Papa Loves Mambo

Posted in Challenges by angloswiss

What sort of music was played in your house when you were growing up? What effect, (if any) did it have on your musical tastes?

Grooving in Elsace

This is not in our house when I was growing up, this is Mr. Swiss on the right on the drums, jamming in a casual session with two fellow musicians. In our house is now mostly the sound of jazz, bebop, mainstream etc. etc. to be heard from the iPod, radio (radio Swissjazz) and any other music source. Now and again I can squeeze some of my music in (mostly Paolo Conte), although I can also be happy with the sound of silence or birds chirping outside.

The talk is of when you were growing up. I was growing up? I thought I was born a golden oldie, but is seems there was a time when I could move my limbs without problems and my hair was brown without any 51 shades of grey. I grew up quite well, so well, that the school class photo was mainly planned around me in the middle as I was the third tallest in the class.

I was growing up at a time when radio was still the big thing. Record players and stereo equipment was then not something that every household could afford, I do not doubt that my dad would have listened to Fats Waller, Glen Miller and any honky tonk piano player that existed in the forties. However, all we had was a radio and dad was at work, so I was subjected to my mother’s taste in music during the day. Unfortunately mum did not really have a taste, as long as she could sing along with it, she was happy. The BBC Light programme was not exactly the be all and end all in the world of music. I remember one programme called “Music While You Work” and the music was really made for the factory workers. All workshops and factories had a radio somewhere in the corner and it was a happy go lucky mixture of nice singalong music, all strung together for an hour every morning to keep people happy and contented whilst working. Mum would listen while she was cleaning and cooking.

This condition only prevailed for two weeks and then we had two weeks silence with no music or noise during the day. There was a reason for this. Dad was a factory worker, producing wheel hubs for the Ford Motor Company in Dagenham, London and his job meant two weeks working nights and two weeks working days. When he was living a normal daily working life, mum could let the radio run during the day. Luckily I could escape to school in between, leaving her to the music choice.

During the two weeks night work, when dad became a factory vampire, working from evening until morning, the radio was silenced during the day. We were living in a monastery/convent. I was not allowed to play the piano, and radios were banned. Dad was sleeping in his coffin bed recovering from the night’s work. He would arrive home in the early morning, eat breakfast and disappear until the evening. The bedroom would be darkened by special thick black curtains to ensure he could sleep and noise was forbidden. Unfortunately mum could not stop the heavy duty lorries/trucks travelling on the road near bye, which might wake dad from his recovery sleep. She became very annoyed and she would often curse over their noise. Another cause of indignation were the children playing in the street. We lived in a square with houses on both sides which caused the noise to multiply with its echoes.

In the evening dad would arise from his daily sleep and the radio would be switched on in time for another musical mixture. I was again allowed to play piano and talk. Mum would serve dad’s dinner and he would afterwards depart for another night of work. As he was not a vampire, he did not dress in a black cloak and fly out of the window, he walked along the road until he reached the underground/subway where he took the train to meet his other colleagues who were working in the dark hours.

There are certain memories that are engraved from the childhood days, not of happy go lucky jazz music which my dad would have loved to hear. He was probably listening to “Music While You Work” in the factory.

Daily Prompt: Papa Loves Mambo

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19Mar2014

Daily Prompt: The Happy Wanderer

Posted in Challenges by angloswiss

What’s your travel style? Are you itinerary and schedule driven, needing to have every step mapped out in advance or are you content to arrive without a plan and let happenstance be your guide?

My Plane to Switzerland from London Citiy

This was a plane I once boarded for a return journey from London City airport to Zürich.

I do not have a style, I have no time for styles. Arrangements for holidays in another country are no longer of interest, my days of family holidays are gone. I no longer need the stress, the organisation, when to go and when to come home. My holidays are at home. I live in the country, our summers are usually nice and sunny, warm, and I am surrounded by countryside. Perhaps the only thing that is missing is a beach, but Switzerland being without coastline, you cannot have it all.

At the moment I am doing my own thing. My dad, aged 98, lives in London and is moving next week to an extra care apartment, where he will have the attention he needs. He can no longer walk so well, and needs reliable helpers to look after his shopping, washing and cleaning.

Today I was planning my travel style. Time is short, he only knew this week that everything would be OK and he has to move by next week on Wednesday according to the English council authorities that are doing the necessary. Today I was in town in the afternoon buying a few things that I will need. Afterwards I visited the bank and picked up some English money. When I arrived home I was on the computer having a look at flights to London. I wanted to fly next Monday. No problem, within half an hour I had everything, as well as organising my boarding card which the Swiss airline will send me automatically. It was also paid for by online banking. I have also booked my return flight, so now it is all systems go. My long year school friend will be helping me in London and providing my lodging for the week, so what could possibly go wrong?

Mr. Swiss is organising his week. Up to now he has received two invitations by ladies for a meal and a visit, so it looks like he will not be so lonely. I was wondering whether to go on Monday or Tuesday, but he said Monday will be better. You see he is very independent, cannot wait for me to go, so I will have no worries that he will feel lonely and he even knows how the washing machine works and the iron. He can cook and not only fast food.

As I have already mentioned yesterday, my WordPress site will be deserted, unless Mr. Swiss decides to blog, but I do not think he will. He said he would probably make too many mistakes in his English, although we understand each other perfectly (admittedly the home language is Swiss German). It is now evening and I rarely blog in the evening, so will now call it a day. Until Monday I will be here if nothing happens.

Daily Prompt: The Happy Wanderer

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18Mar2014

Daily Prompt: That’s Amore

Posted in Challenges by angloswiss

Think of your longest relationship: describe how your love has changed over time, did you go from the giddiness of infatuation, to mad passion, to deep respect, esteem, and friendship? Tell us about your love story.

Spaghetti with chorizo and tomato 20

Now that looks sexy doesn’t it? It can really be the cause of the development of a mad passion, leading to deep respect. Even the cause of esteem and to a connective friendship which would lead to a long love and adoration of the spaghetti family. So here is the love story. Stay cool and calm and do not get excited too much. I do not want this blog to be the cause of a heart attack or shock situation.

My own idea – spaghetti with chorizo in a tomato sauce, now that’s amore. Otherwise I have never seen such a stupid prompt, wanting me to tell everyone stuff that it is so personal, so private, and involving other people who may not and do not want to be mentioned. At least you get a photo of one of my edible amori.

Today was a busy day for me. Cleaned the bathroom this morning, cooked lunch and after my golden oldie sleep was off for an hour Tai Chi in town. I am now at home and actually did not want to write a daily prompt, but I have something to tell my fans and followers.

Do not be disappointed, you do not have to pull your hair out, throw a tantrum or shed clouds of tears. I am leaving you probably next week, but here is the good news, I will return. My presence will be required in England for about a week. It is a bit short notice and this week I have to organise English money, go to the hairdressers, get myself fitted out with a suitable wardrobe and organise my medicine. I will be leaving Mr. Swiss for a week on his own, but he too will survive. He has the responsibility of looking after three felines.

OK, it is a short daily prompt today, and if I did not have to tell you the sad news of my absence, I would not have bothered. I might be around for the remainder of this week, according to how I bear up under the pressure of life.

Keep well, write well and not wanting to be impolite or ignorant, but your love stories are just too private to arise any interest on my side.

Daily Prompt: That’s Amore

Amorous Prompts

17Mar2014

Daily Prompt: Linger

Posted in Challenges by angloswiss

Tell us about times in which you linger — when you don’t want an event, or a day to end. What is it you love about these times? Why do you wish you could linger forever?

Nera in the bathroom

Yes, there are times when a feline decides to linger in the wrong place.

“That is a matter of opinion Mrs. Human. I find this the right place. There is nothing so safe, so cooling to the feline fur than a bathroom and there is a constant supply of fresh water.”

“Nera we call that the toilet, it is not a feline water bowl.”

“Toilet does not exist in meow.”

“I know Nera, perhaps you could compare it to your feline tray for your recycling process.”

“But there is no clumping sand in this toilet thing, just permanent, fresh water, quality grand cru. Mrs. Human what are you doing, I don’t like that.”

“I am turning the taps on to show you another sort of fresh water to fill the bath.”

“Ok, I got the message, I will find a nice soft warm place to have a sleep. . This bathroom thing is not my taste, except for the toilet of course. I think I will stop my lingering here. The water from those bath taps is threatening. It comes from above which is OK, but collects at the bottom which is definitely not OK.”

And Nera left the bathroom to take a sleep outside on a chair.

Yet another prompt, where I wondered if I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Thank goodness for Nera who rescued me from telling half the world, at least half the WordPress population, my feelings towards lingering, where I like to linger, why I linger and what I might love about lingering.

I do not do lingering, never have and never will. The only place that comes near to a linger is my bed and I call that relaxing, sleeping, taking it easy. Being a golden oldie and not having to do anything, except for eat, drink and sleep and be a slave to three felines. Even in my younger days I was the Bionic woman, multi-tasking was my middle name. Changing diapers for babies, feeding the family, ensuring their clothes were clean and ironed and later when the kids decided to do their lingering somewhere else, earning money by becoming a working woman.

Some might say I linger a little too long on the computer, perhaps linger too much with a camera in my hand, and linger in the garden watching the flowers grow. That is a matter of interpretation. On the computer I try to interpret the daily prompt my way, because doing it the WordPress way is not my thing. I do not linger with the camera, but make a study of the object in question for my prize winning subject to enter for the Pulitzer Prize. Who was this Pulitzer bloke anyway? Found him in Wikipedia and discovered that he was swimming in money, hence the donation of a prize. One day it might even be mine. I am digressing. My lingering in the garden is combined with dirt under the finger nails and backache, but I survive.

So that is all I have to say about lingering. Every day I say I am not doing this prompt today, but I have a Daily Prompt addiction. That’s it! Tomorrow’s prompt will definitely be “Tell us about an addiction you have and how you decide to cure it.”

Daily Prompt: Linger

Lingering Pingbacks

16Mar2014

Daily Prompt: I Believe

Posted in Challenges by angloswiss

For today’s prompt, tell us three things that you believe in your heart to be true. Tell us three things you believe in your heart to be false.

Western Conifer Seed Bug

I believe that Spring is on its way definitely, otherwise this sweet little western conifer seed bug would not have taken a walk on the wall outside. He stood perfectly still and is now a happy bug because his portrait exists for all too see.

As far as the heart is concerned:

“Hey heart what to you have to tell me about the three true things?”

“Not my department, ask the brain.”

“Brain?”

“Forget it, I am too busy writing daily prompts, organising shopping lists and making sure that you do not forget anything.”

Well that was a lot of help. The heart is too busy pumping blood and stuff around my body to make sure I survive the day and the brain only thinks actions and deeds during the day. At night it is something else, but then its ideas go haywire.”

“Human, be careful what you say. A brain never sleeps, we are always active. “

“Those dreams can be a little scary sometimes.”

“That is a matter of interpretation. I sent you a dream to prepare for your next shopping expedition last night. If you wake covered in a cold sweat, then it is the skin who is to blame.”

“Leave me out of this, I just do what you tell me brain. If things get stressed I sweat.”

“OK, stop arguing and that dream was scary. I was a working woman, had no time to go shopping and at the end of the day all the bakers were closed, we had no bread.”

“And that was scary? It wasn’t even real.”

“I know brain, but your dreams can be pretty realistic sometimes, and even in colour.”

“Of course they are in colour, we brains like our ideas to stick and we have a colourful imagination.”

“So what about these true and false things? If the heart doesn’t do it, then someone has to.”

“At your command, so tell me and I will do my best.”

“You mean I have to do all the thinking.”

“Someone has to, I am just a collection of cells in your head.”

“Ok, I believe that I don’t believe, I believe that this daily prompt is not my thing and I believe that this blog subject will not win a Pulitzer or Nobel prize.”

“Well I will not dispute that. What about a few suggestions for some false stuff.”

“That dream you invented last night was false, you often forget things and make me fall over.”

“Falling over is the ear problem.”

“Brain you do not seem to be responsible for anything.”

“False, of course I am, but a bad workman always blames his tools.”

“We agree” said the skin, the ear and the heart.

Daily Prompt: I Believe

Believable Pingbacks

15Mar2014

Daily Prompt: Pour Some Sugar Over Me

Posted in Challenges by angloswiss

What is your favorite sweet thing to eat? Bread pudding? Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies? A smooth and creamy piece of cheesecake? Tell us all about the anticipation and delight of eating your favorite dessert. Not into sweets? Tell us all about your weakness for that certain salty snack.

Waffles with apples and cream

I have lots of favourites but am a little choosy. I like to know what it contains and I like the ingredients to be the best, so my taste in sweet might be a little expensive. This wonderwork of desert in the photo was really made by me. My monthly cooking magazine had developed a new kind of mould for making waffles complete with book on “How to make”. They were manufactured from silicon, a sort of rubbery new development in backing forms, so I decided to try it out. With some stewed apples (from my tree of course) and whipped cream they were perfect.

Being truthful I should really ignore all sweet stuff and eliminate it from my food plan. One of the advantages of being diabetic is that you do not really feel ill. Ok, I am one of the lucky ones and not yet on the needle, just three tablets per day and keep the carbohydrate to a minimum. My problem is that I do not like eating imitations, watered down recipes. It has to be the real thing and not some sort of substitute.

I had to have a chuckle when I saw that the first words of this prompt were bread pudding. I was surprised. Do people really know today what a bread pudding is and I mean the real thing, the one that mum made because she had some bread left over, did not want it to go mouldy and it was a cheap desert? I grew up on bread pudding. Every mum in the East End of London had her own recipe for bread pudding. Basically you soaked the bread in hot water, squeezed it out and mixed dried fruit into the soft bready mixture you had and added some sugar. Now the housewife could let her imagination run wild and use up all the stuff you had in the cupboard, but do not forget a generous spoonful of mixed spice. Perhaps a good dose of strawberry jam, or marmalade (you know the orange/lemon peel jam lookalike that all British have for breakfast, spread on bread). It was all mixed in by hand of course and this squelchy, sqeezy mixture was put into a baking tin, spread flat and baked for an hour or more, according to when it was ready. The kitchen and house were filled with aromas from the orient and smelt like the baker was having a good day.

As I said this is typically British, although it might have immigrated to the colonies over the years. Through me it also immigrated to Switzerland. There was one problem. It might not be according to Swiss taste buds, although the taste was OK. It was the consistency when baked. My family changed the name from “Bread Pudding” to “Gummikuchen” meaning translated “Rubber cake”. I never thought of it that way. It was eaten, but I decided it was not according to the Swiss way of life.

My taste in chocolate is fussy. First of all it has to be stored in the fridge. I like it cold and crispy. If it is soft and warm, I do not like it. It also has to be preferably dark black chocolate. I eat the “normal” coloured chocolate if it is from the fridge, but have my preferences. Switzerland is a chocolate country. Names such as Suchard, Lindt, Cailler, Villars, Camille Bloch are known worldwide and I live at the source. Of course I am spoilt, but strangely I have discovered better.

Each town, perhaps most villages, have their own confetionary shop and my local town of Solothurn is not different. I do not want to start a free advertising campaign for our local chocolate shop, but here is a link: Suteria. It is even in English, clever guy, so now you can see what you are missing and what I can buy. Of course, it is not cheap, but who cares. It is genuine, no imitations in his chocolates or cakes, all the real thing and he even has a restaurant integrated in the whole business.

If I have time I like to bake a cake, muffins, or make deserts, but I have to be in the mood. As far as the salty snacks are concerned, they are another weakness I have, but I have done a cold turkey and no longer indulge. My waist line was expanding, and they are a carbohydrate bomb if there ever was one. I have now limited my consumption of potato chips to eating them accompanying a baked chicken (which I also do myself). I am not one for eating in restaurants or buying fast food, I like to know what is in the food I am eating. I refuse to be poisoned by a chicken nugget or a KFC (we do not even have one in our local area). If I am on holiday or in another town for the day, I might indulge in a MacDonalds hamburger, and just try not to think about what might be in it. One tip: never have pickled cucumber in your hamburger, especially in Summer. They are not only considered a delicacy by humans, but by the flying insect population.

So on this unpalatable remark, I will now continue eating my afternoon Bifidus yoghurt. It is supposed to be healthy.

Daily Prompt: Pour Some Sugar On Me

Sweet Pingbacks

14Mar2014

Daily Prompt: Brilliant Disguise

Posted in Challenges by angloswiss

Tell us about a time when someone had you completely fooled, where the wool was pulled right over your eyes and you got hoodwinked, but good. Was it a humorous experience or one you’d rather forget? What was the outcome?

Sky over Felbrunnen

I really do not know what to say, I am (exceptionally) at a loss for words. That one of my dear friends nominated me for this well-deserved award. This was such a surprise. I really did not expect this. Of course I had invested hours of gifted writing talent over the past year, relentlessly fighting against feelings of sleep and hunger, knowing that my perseverance would be rewarded. You mean that someone is fooling me, playing a trick, that this award does not exist? Oh, people can be so mean (and jealous), but this award now exists on my famous, well-known, spectacular never-to-be-forgotten blogging site. It leaves its mark in the international blogging world. If you wish to be present when I receive this award of recognition (known as The Blogger) I will inform as soon as I know where it will take place. I believe somewhere in Silicon Valley, but am not sure.

In the meanwhile I will entertain you with a few hoax reports I have spotted lately in this cyber world. Did you know there was a spider as large as a house wall somewhere in a small town in the States. The inhabitants now lock themselves in their houses, frightened to take a step outside. It is true, I saw it. Where? On facebook of course, Some say it is a fluke of nature, other say a fluke of Photoshop.

I saw a report yesterday in connection with the plane that has been reported missing on its way from Malaysia to China. Now Mrs. Angloswiss is not going to join in the competition to guess where it is. I find it distasteful with respect to the people still waiting for news of what has happened. It even seems that telephones are/were ringing belonging to the missing people. Seas have been searched and everyone seems to be at a loss for an answer. Someone in the false world of Facebook had a report on their site/wall that proof has now been found that this missing plane with the over 200 passengers is in the Bermuda Triangle. You are invited to click for more.

I would advise against clicking on anything in Facebook with such strange reports. I did once, just out of curiosity. I cannot remember what it was: some sort of strange video beginning with the title “Oh my god” and continuing with “You must have a look”. My advice do not have a look, you will disappear into a web spun to trap you, the only way out is to press a yes and then it happens. The video spreads it tentacles to your site and all your friends receive it in your name. Not too bad, I did not get a virus, and my computer survived. I am glad to say most of my colleagues in Facebook took pity and remarked that it was not something they expected from me and I was definitely spammed.

Otherwise I do not remember being tricked by anyone at any time. I have such a dry, ironic, strange humour that probably people just do not bother. I remember when I was working we had one of those Christmas meals in a restaurant with the boss. He was one of those people that loved I, me and myself and had the feeling that he was God’s gift to woman. We brought small candles with us that you can light, but never extinguish. They just light up again. We gave them to the waitress and told her to put one in his ice cream, which she did. The first thing he did before digging his spoon into the coup vodka (or something like that) was to blow the candle out, which ignited itself again and again and again. After five minutes of blowing candles out, he almost believed it was possessed. He might have been god’s gift to womankind, but he was always a bit slow on the uptake. Oh we had fun on that evening.

So now to have a look in my calendar to see if I am free on the 31^st September: it seems that is the day when my Lifetime Blogging Award will be presented. It would of course be appreciated if you could perhaps organise a few banners to show “Up with Mrs. Angloswiss”, “Mrs. Angloswiss forever” and “We knew she could do it”. Badges will be distributed at the entrance with my WordPress web address to ensure a regular public for my daily Blogging efforts.

Daily Prompt: Brilliant Disguise

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13Mar2014

Daily Prompt: Something So Strong

Posted in Challenges by angloswiss

Tell us the origin story of your best friend. How did you become friends? What is it that keeps your friendship rockin’ after all these years?

Varigated ivy leaves

Did we cling to each other like ivy, until our friendship was stifled, withered and eventually collapsed? No, of course not, who could resist my friendly charm? Best friends are something for memories, something from a childhood and if they stay as such, then the ivy is still clinging. In our case there are a few ivy branches that still intertwine and remain. It began in high school, although after the first year we were split up into two different classes which stayed thoughout the following five school years. Our paths split, but contact was still there. Was it because we originated in the same area of London, our mother language being cockney (although due to higher education we were encouraged to drop this “street language”). We understood each other and shared the same interests: the visit to an opera in London from time to time, a weekly Winter Saturday afternoon at the local football club cheering on our team.

At the age of 20 I left England for Switzerland and my friend made her way into her own branch of work with further education and the visit to a university but we still sent our birthday and Christmas cards and when I was visiting in England we still met. This began about sixty years ago and it still exists. She is godmother to my youngest son and has visited me in Switzerland often. If I visit my father in London there is always a bed free for a stay at her house. It does not need anything to keep a friendship “rocking”, just good vibes and we golden oldies have so many joint memories to share. In the meanwhile her father and mother are no longer amongst us, and my mother has passed on. Our two families also became good friends through our friendship.

So enough sentimentalities, I am not the type for sugary sweet stuff and neither is she, if she ever reads this. She will know who I mean.

Otherwise I gave up with friendships some time ago. Friends come and go and you are forgotten. I worked thirty years in a company and left a couple of years ago. Apart from the coincidental meeting of an ex workmate when in town or in the local supermarket, I hear no more. I do not expect it, but I remember the last words “keep in touch”, “I will call you”, “we must get together and talk over the old times”. I am not annoyed, not insulted and I am not disappointed. I now lead my own life and do not feel lonely or left out and I do not need “friends” like that.

After all I have Facebook. Now this is a strange thing, you know over one hundred people (in my case over seven hundred) but you have met perhaps ten of them throughout your Facebook sentence. You may have found a few voices from the past, which I have. School friends from your first school years (and that is a long while ago) or someone that immigrated to Australia as a ten year old. After a long search we found each other again. My cousin in New Zealand with his lovely family, even Facebook has its pros.

There are of course a few cons which I discovered this week. Did you know that you have two sorts of contact lists, those you know and those you do not know but would like to get to know you? This week I discovered the “those you do not know but would like to get to know you”, most interesting. There must be at least 10 gentlemen I have never met that have fallen in love with me through my wonderful, impressive, good looks on my Facebook photo. It is unbelievable. I know I do have a certain charm, but at my age, even with the wrinkles and golden oldie hairstyle they still find I am the answer to their dreams. Unfortunately Facebook marked about twenty contacts as “spam” so many of my fan club members will be disappointed and I will never get to know them as they have been removed (thanks to Mark Zuckerberg). I told Mr. Swiss, but it did not seem to bother him, I think there was a faint laugh. Remind me to have a look on his contacts in Facebook – you never know.

I have decided to remain in Facebook with a special eye on this contact list. It might be that one of the Pulitzer prize/Nobel prize scouts look in and I will at last achieve my well-deserved award. Who knows even Brad Pitt or George Clooney might become my friend. You see there are always reasons to remain in Facebook.

Daily Prompt: Something So Strong

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Being honest the title is based on a remark made on one of my blogs by a supporter.
"You always turn a topic inside out and on its head" were words also applied by a visitor to one of my blogs. I think she hit the nail on the head.

Prompts are there to act on, not just tell everyone what you had for lunch or your likes and dislikes. I trust that on my blog you find something spiced with humour. Mr. Swiss, my other half, has been known to say that not everyone always understands my humour (I do not always understand his).

Blogging is for me coupled with having fun. I do what I want to and not what I have to.

Disclaimer: Not reponsible for any spelling or grammatical mistakes. I do my best, but having two langugages revolving in my brain (yes, I have one), sometimes the result is more bi- than unilingual.