Daily Prompt: It’s tea time


A collection of dried leaves soaked in hot water, perhaps in a paper bag, or just pure where you would need a sieve to remove the tea leaves from the hot water. What is so spectacular about tea? You are afterwards left with brown water which stains everything. your cups acquire a brown surface, the spoons are stained brown, I dare not think what the internal digestive organs resemble. The kitchen sink has a brown layer, everything is brown.

I cannot do this again. My tea experiences are exhausted. My file of photos has been continuously shown until all there is left is just a remainder at the bottom of the cup and even that no longer looks so fresh. I have told you about my morning breakfast tea, my Lady Grey Tea in the afternoon and evening. My experience with the Lapsong Souchong has also be explained: the bacon flavoured tea leaves smoked somewhere in the depths of China.

What more is there to say. My mum grew up with tea in England, my dad joined her addiction, Aunt Annie drank 15 cups a day. I did not even like tea and avoided it in favour of coffee. I was the only one of the few in the family with blue eyes, I am still convinced today it is because I never drank tea for many years. Everyone else had brown eyes.

I have written two blogs about tea, and now my computer keyboard has brown stains and no longer works so smoothly since the keys are blocked with tea leaves. I was actually thinking about a reblog of what I wrote a couple of years ago to save time and energy, but if tea occurs again as a subject it will mean yet another reblog, and I have already reblogged my tea blogs twice.

Now there are only the dregs left in the cup and they have gone cold.

Daily Prompt: It’s tea time

Daily Prompt: Let’s do it again

Road to Langendorf 24.07 (3)

We approached the supermarket and there was something comletely different outside. Thre was a little hut with fireworks and swiss flags. Everything was decorated Swiss style. There were even plastic holders with candles with a Swiss Cross. Of course it will soon be 1st August, the Swiss equivalent to 4th July and 14th June, the Swiss National Day.

There are only a few days to go and our cat will hide all night beneath the bed from the bangs and light effects of celerating Switzerland. The hills (mountains) will be alive with the crackle of bonfires. If you happen to take a flight on 1st August and pass over Switzerland, do not worry. We are not under attack, and defending ourselves with explosions. Most mountains have their own little fire to show that we are celebrating. No-one really knows why it happens on 1st August.

Many years ago Switzerland was a collection of little villages in between the mountains, because it was the best place to build, everything else was on a slope and you at least found some flat places where you could complete your chalets without falling down the slopes. The mountains were left to the cows, they could climb better and found more grass at the top.

The villages grew and people wanted to see what it was like on the other side of the mountains. One evening three guys from different villages met in the valley called Swiss, and lit a fire because there was still some wood laying round from building wooden chalets. The crossbows were put on one side, as the men were hungry and no-one really felt like playing the national game of shooting an apple off each other’s head.

Each guy had a Swiss sausage with him. They found some sticks of wood, and so the sausages were pierced and roasted over the fire. Yes our swiss ancestors were genial. Suddenly there was an explosion and a crate if beer appeared. The three guys all spoke with a different accent as they were from different villages, but decided it was time to get together and speak the same language, something like Swiss German. They decided it had been “hell” living their lonely lives in the mountains. There was no “vet” to tend to the cows and the third guy said “ja” and so the country of Helvetia was formed.

When they got home their wives were annoyed at the noise they were making, yodelling and waking the villagers, but when they heard that they were now all living in Helvetia it got very complicated. Hedda found it a stupid name for a country, Vreni was not even sure how to pronounce it and Heidi said they should go and count the cows which would be more sensible that inventing countries. The cows had all scattered over the meadows, frightened of the explosion made by the appearance of the crate of beer from nowhere. It was then Fritzli came home from the village school and said someone had stolen a crate of beer from the local tavern and that it was a real Swizzle, “Er?” said Hedda and Vreni and Heidi both pulled on their platted hair and asked where the crate of beer landed. Fritz said it sounded very much like in Switzerland and so the name was born.

Helvetia still exists but only on the postage stamps and money to keep it all nice and neutral. In the meanwhile Tabby my cat stays under the bed all night whilst the Swiss celebrate by roasting sausages over the fire and empty crates of beer accompanied by the sound of exploding fireworks. Or perhaps it happened differently. No-one really remembers as it all happened more than 500 years ago, it is just tradition.

Daily Prompt: Let’s do it again

Daily Prompt: A Life of Fragrance

Horse 23.04 (1)

I grew up with the scent of wet brick dust in my nose from London. There were flowers, dandelions, growing in the cracks of the pavement. We even called them “wee-the-beds”. Ah yes, the fragrances of childhood were overwhelming. As you walked along the local main road the air was filled with the smells of the oil used for frying fish and chips. Of course, there was the constant accompaniment of the scent of petrol from the busses and trucks along the tarmac of the roads. As the years passed I wanted something completely different. The smell of nature was calling, and what better country to find it than Switzerland.

I was longing for the fresh mountain air, the hills being alive with the sound of music according to the films. Heidi might have slept on straw in the grandfather’s simple wooden hut, but it was clean straw. The scent of freshly made cheese would be everywhere, what could possibly  be better.

And after 50 years of Swiss counry living, I have found the true scents of life. Take a walk, but be careful where you tread. Perhaps a horse had already passed on its way, and left a trace of recycled hay on the path. Step to one side to avoid it, but do not enter the cow field. There will be more recycled hay, but this time inhabited by flies that have found a home to raise their children.  Yes, nature is everywhere.

There is a wild rose, a flowering cherry tree, such delights. Oh to inhale the fresh scent, but care is needed. One of nature’s creations a bee or wasp, might be sampling the taste of pollen and that could cause nasal problems. It is better not to inhale everything. Perhaps it would be better to return home. Here you are greeted with the fragrnce of the remaining smells of food. Perhaps the smell of ham and eggs is still hovering in the air from breakfast, or the liver and bacon that you enjoyed at lunch time.

The bathroom reminds you it is time for a purge, no a great purge. There are fragrances in the air that are not fragrant, but actually smell. An hour later the air is full of the smells of Spring and Summer, of roses and lilacs, all from a bottle of cleaning liquid bought in the supermarket. Something is still spoiling the appetising flavours of home, yes the dirty linen must be washed. Let us hang it outside  after being washed, for it to dry in the fresh air. Fresh air? It would be very fresh if the farmer had not decided to spread liquid manure on the fields in the village.

Tractor spreading fertiliser 31.03 (1)

Let us not forget it is all in the name of nature, as natural as it could be. A glance in the garden shows that there are still flowers annointing the air with their scent, even if you only see them through the scaffolding the builders have errected in your garden where they are busy spraying everying with creosote to make it waterproof.

Yes, I know why I left London, to sample the true fragrancies of the Swiss countryside.

Phlox18.07 (2)

Daily Prompt: A Life of Fragrance

Daily Prompt: Agree to disagree

Pigeons 14.07 (5)

It’s chemistry, you meet in a moment in time and there it is, you agree to disagree. Birds have it simpler, they meet, have a peck or two, build a nest, lay a few eggs and they have no chance to disagree. The kids need worms or whatever and mum and dad take turns to feed them: perhaps not always mum and dad together, but more or less.

One day I moved to another country, found a job and was introduced to all the people in the office. They were just names for me, foreign names. A conversation develops with one of the names and 48 years later you still wonder how it happened. He likes jazz, you like something a little more rocking. He can paint, you can be glad if you can draw a straight line. Interests are compleely different and food, forget it. I blog, he listens to music on the computer.

There is a party, common friends have invited: a wedding, a chrstening or a birhday, the reason is not important: perhaps even a family affair, and so we arrive and even sit next to each other, The band strikes up, couples leave for the floor to dance and we are still agreeing to disagree. Each of us dance in our own way, but together – forget it. Somehwere the steps do no combine. If we had met on a dance floor – well, we probably would not have met and would still be doing our own thing.

What about food, we both like röschti, but you cannot eat röschti every day, now and again you have to try something different. What about an aubergine, I love them. He does not mind them and can even put up with them. I like a breakfast in the morning, sit down and enjoy. He seems to live on something he picks up on the way. There are miracles that happen in life and you are still searching for the reason why.

Some people love to follow political discussions on the TV, why not – it enriches your outlook. What’s TV, I prefer to read a book – I love something a little supernatural, fantasty, but he is a realist, crime is the best with a clever twist somewhere on the way. We both love watching the Eastender soap series and that is four times a week for half an hour. You see sometimes you can agree, just now and again. At least life is not boring.

Let’s face it, love is a mysterious thing, I will never understand it. Harmonize? We rarely sing together, but we have manged 48 years, so perhaps we do sing the same song.

Daily Prompt: Agree to disagree

Daily Prompt: Is dormant a permanent condition

Solothurn 08.07 (33)

For this lady it is permanent dormancy. She has been sleeping in a local garden restaurant since the restaurant was opened, although why not. I am having one of my dormant days today. There are certain aspects of MS that I do not mind. My midday sleep is becoming more like a half an afternoon sleep. I decided today would be a day or rest: no walks, no excursions, just biding my time. One of my strong MS characteristics is fatigue and a sleep now and again does a lot to help refresh the mind and body.

Of course things are never as they should be. This morning I fired up the computer with a click, made breakfast with a further click of a bread knife and opening of a jam pot. Afterwards another click for the vacuum cleaner, in between a shower and I was ready for action. It rained yesterday spreading a new layer of building polysterol on my windows.  No time to be dormant, but just a wipe over with a dry cloth removed the remains of the white invasion on the window panes. My life is now composed of small steps.

It was then I remembered my box in the garden still one-third full of earth and plants which I have decided to clear out. It will have no room when the building renovations are finished in -September, or is it October. It has been laying dormant for some time, shifted to a corner of the garden. Now and again I remove the earth, slowly but surely. My condition does not allow for marathon work and I am now proud to say another portion of earth was removed this morning, tossed into the garden and by the next operation the box will be emptied. Son No. 1 returns from his two week holiday today, and he can help to shift the empty box to a quiet corner, where it will be removed by the gardeners: another battle won against dormancy.

After lunch I retired to my bed for a 1-2 hour period of dormancy. Unfotunately my dormancy transformed itself to a sleeping coma to almost 3 hours. I decided I did not have an important appointment to “see a man about a dog” as my dad always said if we asked where he was going, so who cares.

Life goes on with its dormant and wakeful moments and I just make the most of them. I am convinced that I have the potential to become a famous writer and it is just laying dormant. On the other hand too much stress. And the lady in the garden restaurant is still sleeping.

Road to Langendorf 21.07 (6)

And remember, there are some things better left dormant.

Daily Prompt: Is dormant a permanent condition

Daily Prompt: Suddenly there was a gate

London 2015

There never used to be a gate, there was nothing to keep in or out. Every year I would stay at the same place in London, just along the road and and so I noticed the changes. It used to be a place where you could buy concrete installations. One day I arrived for my visit and it was empty. I stayed with my friend in her house and she said she had no idea what would be happening. Now it is left to the weeds that find a place for a seed in between the cracks.

The gates are to keep us out and perhaps to keep the others in. There are rumours that voices can be heard at night, but mostly from stray cats that are searching for a comfortable warn place somewhere in the underground.

A year later, the last time I visited London, things were happening. the gates had gone, and a tall building was arriving. I had no time for photos, and I knew it would be my last visit. It is a scene from a life in another place in another country. My dad passed away two years ago and my final goodbyes were said to London.

Daily Prompt: Suddenly there was a gate

Daily Prompt: What’s in a Lollipop

Impressions of September monthly market in Solothurn

I do not even like lollipops, never did: even as a kid. I was more into chocolate. Even a toffee apple was better than a lollipop. They were real apples on a stick, dipped in liquid toffee and left to get hard. As they were left to dry on their base, you always had a flat bit of toffee at the end. The only photo I found of something like a lollipop were these strange sugar strawberries from a visit to the local market, all on a stick for better eating.

My all time favourite was Cadbury’s Chocolate Milk flakes, It was a long bar of chocolate, all very flaky and made a real mess when the pieces crumbled away. I suppose if I bothered, I could order them from the British shop by computer in Switzerland. I always bought a large paket at London city Airport before returning to Switzerland, but never lollipops.

If it is ice cream on a stick, I am quite partial, although I no longer eat ice cream.

It is a wonder I am still alive.The list of things I do not, or cannot eat, is becoming longer than what I actually eat. I quite like a snack after my midday golden oldie sleep, but today the cupboard is bare and so I have to go without and just write about lollipops, which I do not like.

I do not even fell inspired to write a story about a lollipop:

There was a scream for help. She opened the door and her friend stumbled into the room.

“Shut the door, do not let it in, it will kill you.”

“What is wrong”

“A giant lollipop is chasing me. The lollipops have decided to revenge themselves on the human race, after being eaten for so many years.”

What did I say. I never liked them, they are evil. They are attacking us. Now toffee apples are something different. You can chew them. Lollipops die slower with every lick.

Daily Prompt: What’s in a Lollipop