I saw this pink lady in town inviting people to come in and see what was on offer in the shop.
I saw this pink lady in town inviting people to come in and see what was on offer in the shop.
Something from last year’s garden
Would just mention this is a re-blog of something I wrote some years ago
“What would you like to drink Madam?“
And she was dying of thirst, not quite dying but almost. After climbing zig hundred steps to the top of the church tower in this sleepy Sicilian village, where running water is turned off for an afternoon in half of this sleepy village, the other half having it turned off in the morning, she decided to buy her water in a restaurant where it always seemed to be flowing, even if it was only in bottles.
“Just a water, please, you know aqua minerale.”
“No problem madam, we speaka da English here.”
“Oh” she thought, at last someone that understands my needs.
“You want the water with or without gas?”
“You know the bubbles that rise in the water to the top, fizzy.”
“Ah, no, no gas, just plain mineral water.”
“Would you like a bottle of Perrier, the French water, or perhaps our national Italian water, San Pellegrino. We also have some German or Swiss if you prefer.”
“Just plain water, you know, the one that your customers usually drink.”
“OK, then we make it a San Pellegrino. You want it in a glass, or a bottle?”
“What’s the difference?”
“It’s the same water, but you can have more in the bottle. The glass is only two decilitre.”
Her thirst was increasing by the moment. Her throat was being parched by too many questions from this Sicilian inquisitor. She decided to go for the bottle.
“We have three sizes madam. The small bottle with three decilitre, the medium with five and the big bottle with a liter.”
“Ok, I will take the medium bottle.”
“With or without ice?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You want the water cooled with ice.”
“Oh, yes, then I will take it with ice.”
“Crushed or cubes?”
She looked at her watch quickly. She had been ordering a plain water now for at least five minutes and was slowly but surely becoming annoyed with this question and answer game.
“You know what, I don’t bloody care what the ice looks like. There is no prize for the best looking ice cube. Just bring me a mineral water with no gas, in a medium sized bottle with five decilitre and ice according to your own choice.”
“Ok, ok, madam. Oh by the way do you prefer the ice to be from our fresh tap water, or also from the mineral water.”
“What’s the difference? I am thirsty, not making a chemical analysis of your water quality.”
“Our tap water is good, but might have a slight taste of chlorine, we put it in our water to decontaminate it from any impurities it might get. I would perhaps recommend the ice from the mineral water, just to be safe.”
“Ok, just bring me what you think is best. No more questions, no more third degree and if you don’t want one of your customers dropping dead with thirst in your restaurant BRING ME THE WATER.”
The water left her table.
“What’s the problem with that customer Mario” asked the girl at the buffet.
“I don’t know, she is making a big fuss about ordering mineral water. These tourists lose their temper very quickly. No manners.”
How many different colours can you see? There are so many you cannot count them all. Now my dad would probably see only half of the colours because he would have difficulty to sort out the browns from the greens, perhaps even a red might be confusing. Yes, he was colour blind. My mum would have to take a good look before he went anywhere, just to make sure that his feet were both wearing the same coloured socks. Perhaps he might have a brown sock on the right foot and a green one on the left.
And now let us turn the clock forward. My youngest son was a teenager and had a sight test at school. It was then that they discovered he needed glasses. No big problem, many need glasses. Mr. Swiss had glasses when I met him. My glasses came later in life due to a computer most probably. At school they were very thorough with sight tests and so my son was given the dotted pictures in various colours where numbers were shown: perhaps there was a 5 in pink dots with a brown background of dots and No. 2 son had to recognise the number. Sometimes he saw a shape and sometimes he saw nothing. In other words it was proven that he was completely colour blind – history repeats itself. Now and again he would also be dressed for school and I had to inspect his feet to make sure that they matched in sock colour.
His dad was not colour blind and I was not colour blind, but my dad was colour blind. Now it was all my fault that No. 2 son could not see the difference when choosing the socks to wear. I base it on socks, because they always arrive in pairs – if they are the same colour. I was a carrier of the gene. My colour blind son passed the driving test and I asked how he could see if the traffic lights were red, yellow or green. He said quite easy, they have different shades (note shades, not colours).
Now we have to go into the details of the problem. Women are rarely colour blind, although it can happen but daughters from a father can carry the colour blind gene and I was a carrier, so No. 2 son was colour blind. He has now become a father to a son, so I am wondering how this will turn out.
I asked how does a woman become colour blind, it is possible. She must be the daughter of a father that is colour blind and a mother that is a carrier, like myself- Yes life’s colours can be complicated. Apparently animal eyes are not even capable of seeing colours. My cat says who cares, If it moves and smells good, then eat it. Colours make no difference, they don’t smell or have a particular taste.
The mornings are getting better and now I even see traces of the planes that have flown by. Yesterday there was a splendid view of the alps with all the peaks in their full glory, but I just did not have the opportunity to take any photos. I was driving down from the village where the supermarket is and they were spread out before me. Our supermarket is in the village of Langendorf which is an uphill journey as it goes towards our house mountain, “Weissenstein” in the Jura. I used to take such photos from the car when Mr. Swiss was driving, but now I do not even take my camera with me, just my cellphone for a few photos. I cannot do a photo shooting when I am driving unfortunately. It’s perfect weather for a camera shoot at the moment, but I will be at home this afternnoon.
Yesterday I actually managed to fix up my new camera. Luckily I know the workings of the Nikon cameras (this is my third) and they are all similar. I sort of squeezed a few minutes in and took a couple of photos. There are now crocus flowering in our wild meadow and I noticed even a couple of the early ones at the edge of my garden.
It is so much easier with the zoom lens now as I do not have to change the lens (which I am usually too lazy to do at home) as it is permanently on the camera and has a range from 18-300 which covers almost everything. I now have my eye on a wide angle lens, but they are a little in the higher league of prices, over a thousand francs, but I am thinking about it.
I am now at an age where I really ask what am I saving for. I worked all my life and for the remaining years (OK I am not really ready to go yet) I should have some benefits. I cannot take the cameras with me when I go, as I am not sure if I will be able to upload the photos on WordPress afterwards (OK, I love a little black humour now and again). And if I stand at the local castle on the hill and take a photo of the alps. depending if you have a good visibility day, I would get the whole range and not just the big three (Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau). I am thinking about it.
I now also have a car to finance as well. Being a golden oldie you still need money, but there are no more perks to hope for. The government does not increase its pensions every year to suit the cost of living index like it used to be when working, and you just have to stretch it a bit more.
And now to move on. There are things to do, life is never boring when you are a golden oldie, and you must still eat, so I will be cooking. I also have No. 1 son’s bed linen to iron and a few other bits and pieces.
Have a good day everyone, and may it be a good one.
Je gratte, donc je suis
My "bump" was in 2016, aged 48, when I suffered a stroke. This blog charts my recovery. (Header clipart licensed by pngguru.com.)
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