Diamonds and Rust

The sun is shining.Birds are singing.Our garden is already full of flowers. It is a good day.Especially as I am about to be spoilt. Why?
Because it is Mothers Day in Switzerland,and I am one.
I have grown out of the role of course,my daughters have long turned into my friends,which is I suppose as big a compliment as any mother could wish. But I am getting more today. An organised Brunch in the garden and a big bouquet of wild flowers like the ones they used to pick when they were small.

If you are celebrating in your country today.
Happy Mothers Day.

Yesterday we were invited to a friends’ Restaurant.He is a very good cook,in fact he graduated from the famous Ecole Hôtelière in Lausanne.That doesn’t stop him cooking plain,and inexpensive food well.
So he made something for us which he knows my husband loves. A dish that just the title will start every Swiss abroad drooling.

G’HACKETS und HOERNLI mit AEPFELMUES (minced beef and macaroni with apple sauce)

Very quickly made, thrifty, filling, and delicious.

Now no Chef tells you his exact recipe,but I will let you Know the basics and you can experiment with the gravy.

400,gr. of minced beef, if possible minced twice.
2 large onions chopped finely
1 clove of garlic,crushed
1 laurel leaf.
2 tablespoons of flour
1 liter of beef or vegetable boullion
salt and pepper
oil to fry.

Fry meat quickly at high temperature,add onions and garlic, salt and pepper. Fry lightly together.
Sprinkle and mix with flour.
Add warm bouillon and cook gently for five to ten minutes.

400gr, Macaroni, if possible fresh, cooked in lots of hot salted water
2 large onions fried in plenty of butter or oil.
Pour over cooked macaroni before serving.(Optional,as unhealthy but good)

Enough peeled and sliced apples to make quantity of sauce desired.
Cook in very little water with sugar if liked.
Sieve or mash.
Add some ground cinnamon to taste.
Serve seperately.

En Guete

A State Visit to England always entails a lot of work when it comes to getting the brass polished, but what was shown yesterday for the visit of President Sarkozy of France and his new wife,- more well known for nude portraits, seemed to me as a Brit, and despite everything a Royalist, a little over the top.

Not that I have anything against La Grande Nation.Not more than the average Brit. We just seem to have been at loggerheads with them for the last thousand years.

Luckily after William the Conqueror we always came out on top, and I can’t help thinking that was what the message was about yesterday.
Up until now Nicolas Sarkozy hasn’t had too many admirers. Angela doesn’t care for him, and I don’t think even George was flattered by his dripping charm.

HRH The Prince of Wales showed that even an Englishman could outdo him,when it came to hand kissing.

HRH The Prince Phillip,seemed to really win over Madame Bruni- Sarkozy, but then he always had a way with women,and doesn’t seem to have lost it even at his age.

HM The Queen got out the Golden Coach,and put on so many jewels of immense worth that her head and neck must really ache today.

Even the great hall at Windsor Castle was used as dinner venue-everyone has Palaces.

“I have the ambition to work hand in hand with the English” President Sarkozy told us.

Does he indeed.

I don’t think Gordan Brown will be bowled over.

The Royal Family probably have not amused themselves so much in a long time.

And the crowds only came to look at Carla.

The President certainly has one thing the others haven’t

Soon it will be time to wear “The Green” again.

And as usual tears will come to my ears when I hear this song;

Oh, Danny boy,the pipes,the pipes are calling,

From glen to glen and down the mountain side.

The summers gone,and all the flowers are dying,

Tis you,Tis you must go and I must bide

But come you back when summers in the meadow,

And when the valley is hushed and white with snow.

Tis I’ll be there in sunshine or in shadow,

Oh, Danny boy,oh danny boy I love you so

And if you come when all the flowers are dying.

And I am dead as dead I well may be,

You’ll come and find the place where I am lying.

And kneel,and say an Ave there for me.

And I shall hear though soft you tread above me,

And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be,

If you’ll not fail to tell me that you love me,

I simply sleep in peace until you come to me

Frederic Weatherly-1848-1929. Words to the tune of Londonderry Air.

I wish my Irish friends far and wide   Slàinte, May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest of your past.

I have an old book that belonged to my Grandmother.

To Dearest Grace with Best Wishes from A.B.

It is called The Birthday Oracle or Whom shall I Marry . Guesses at the character or appearance of your future husband or wife. Arranged for every Day in the Year with Extracts to suit both sexes.

In it my Grandmother noted the names of family or friends opposite the date and the Birthday Oracle to the words of a well known writer.
Yesterday, March 12, my name had been entered in now faded ink and that of an 81 year old Uncle.

“He is more than six feet high,

And fortunate and wise ;

He has a voice of melody,

And beautiful black eyes. -Praed

How true that was about my Uncle.

Tell me a thing she cannot dress, _

Soups,hashes pickles and pies;

Nought comes amiss, she is so wise. -Lloyd

Me? Maybe.

For April 16, The Birthday of my eldest Daughter

Her dress was like the lillies,

And thy heart as pure as they.-Longfellow

How true

May 27. My youngest daughter.

I think there has rarely been a more admirable woman.- O.W.Holmes

And that of a very good friend

His face is fair as heaven,

When Springtime buds unfold.- Blake.

Mmm, probably.

May 3, my Son in Law.

He cannot even essay to walk sedate,

But in his very gait,one sees a jest,

That is ready to break out in spite of all his seeming.-Knowles.

August 14. My Father.

The proudest now is but my peer.

The highest not more high;

Today of all the weary year ,

A King of men am I. -Whittier

Oh,how true.

December31.My Husband.

My own ideal Knight,

Who reverenced his conscience as a King;

Whose glory was redressing human wrongs.- Tennyson.

You may smile,but for me the oracle rings true.

I had a message today from someone telling me he was alone,lost, and frightened.

Not very unusual you might think, except it didn’t come from a child.

Why shouldn’t he say that. Because grown men don’t admit things like that, and especially not to women.

Men don’t cry.But it’s all the more moving if you experience one doing it.

I found a poem that I felt summed it all up rather well and I hope the writer Goood Knight Poet, wont mind me sharing parts of it with you.

All Men are little Boys.

“then just like that,we are no longer little boys.

But grown men.

And yet we are still little boys in our heart.”

“And yet as we grow-

Big boys don’t cry,except in our hearts,

But we dont show it”.

“Where are you?

I feel so alone and afraid so often,

My tears are everywhere,and nobody even notices”

I am so glad that I know a man that can admit how he feels.

I’m glad I know Peter Pan.

I began the week feeling miserable and depressed although I had no grounds for it.

It wasn’t the lack of sun, central and northern Europe have been enjoying an exceptionally sunny February,but I felt nasty and was being nasty to those around me.

Then I heard within twenty four hours from three friends that I don’t see often.

A woman that I met on a beach in Thailand and found that we had so much in common .

A person far away that has influenced me and who I love so much it hurts.

And someone else who over the years has become more and more a friend to me.

I am so thankful.

This morning a note of paper with this printed on it fell out of a telephone book while I was looking for a number.Someone had sent it to me, I don’t know when with the message; ” It would be great to see you again”.

I’d like to share it with you,

The Circle

A ball is a circle,

No beginning, no end.

It keeps us together

Like our circle of Friends

But the treasure inside

For you to see

Is the treasure of friendship

You ‘ve granted me.

How could I have felt so miserable.

Call a friend.

I like lots of animals,domestic and otherwise.

I like dogs,providing they are not too big and slobber all over me.

I think I like cats more, so elusive.

But my absolute favourite animal is a CAMEL.

It certainly isn’t my favourite to ride, and they usually smell pretty bad. But they are so haughty and disdainful, ever-knowing and with a look wiser and older than the desert itself.

I thought I was probably the only person of non Bedouin blood to love camels, but I read today that the Swiss rock and blues singer Vera Kaa loves them too.

“I find them overwhelmingly elegant.” she says “So arrogant and zickig (Difficult to translate,-could be used to describe a certain U.S hoteliers daughter) can no Diva in the world look down her nose”

Oh I do so agree.

My Sarie Marais is so far from my heart, and I’m longing to see her again.
She lived on a farm on Mooi’s River bank, before I left on this campaign

Oh,bring me back to the old Transvaal

That’s where I want to be,

Way yonder ‘mongst the meelies (Corn),by that great thorny tree,

Sarie is waiting for me.

Cricket wasn’t the same without the South Africans, Rugby wasn’t either.

I painted a plate in a competition at school and even won. It showed the Cape Fruit which we couldn’t buy in England any more.

Later in London I often heard homesick South Africans singing the haunting song- Sarie Marais and the seed was planted.

South Africa, one of the most beautiful and richest countries in the world was bleeding.

The Black South Africans suffered terribly under the Apartheid regime, and some white people who had lived there even longer than the blacks were ashamed to tell others abroad where they came from.

There were many whites who without fear fought against it, there were a lot of white people who supported black families.But they didn’t shout loud enough, and we didn’t hear too much about that.

But we heard about Nelson Mandela at last, and the others who didn’t live to see the day.
People who suffered particularly under the regime have been, and will be in the future compensated. (can something like that be compensated?)

People and Firms responsible for upholding the Apartheid in South Africa will be brought to justice, so says the United States Court of Apeal
As I read today they will support this.

Somehow I find the anouncement terribly funny. When will America’s black people be compensated?

As a post script I must say that the words and lyrics of the Sarie Marais were taken from an old US Civil War folk song called Elli Rhee, and the Transvaal was then Tennessee.

Why have taxi drivers got such a bad name?

I first heard the warning about them in ‘68 when prior to my first visit to the USA I was told whatever I did I wasn’t to trust a New York City taxi driver.

What a young woman was supposed to do when she was spat out of an ocean liner along with a cabin trunk and two suitcases on to Pier 8 (or was it 10) they didn’t say.

All I had with me,beside the luggage was an address in the Bronx,where they might or might not be expecting me. So it was a case of having to trust one of those famous yellow cab drivers.

Despite my 5′8” I do tend to bring out the protective instinct in the opposite sex,and people say I look more than passable, but whatever it was that lovely cab driver drove me up town,wanted to wait while I found out if I was expected and then helped me to carry all the things inside.

I was bowled over for life,there is no one like a NYC cab driver-except perhaps a London one.

I love taxi drivers,and I have experienced a few ‘interesting’ ones in my time.

Before my trip to Asia I was warned again,by guide books especially, but I would like to say that the taxi drivers in Asia did not drive off with my luggage, stuck to the previously arranged price, brought me as far as I could judge directly to where I wanted to go, were extremelyhelpfull and friendly with or without a tip. Whether it was a driver of a bike rikshaw, tuk tuk, songthaews or car, I could trust them all.