My Days Are Gone!!!

 I see very little and I wonder where am I? Sometimes I fail to recognise familiar figures. I have a very short memory but I remember my family discussing of taking me into a care home. I vehemently objected to the idea for I loved my beautiful home. My beautiful home that I worked for and turned into a real home. My beautiful home was a paradise to me. I cherished every moment of my life in that home. My home was the pride of my heart. Surplus savoury and scrumptious food that I tendered with care and shared with my beloved ones. My evergreen garden was the envy of my neighbours. How could I leave my home for care?

My dreams were to die and be buried beneath my roof in a home that I loved. But sometimes life is so unfair, so unfair that I cannot hold back what I cherished for years. I am left distorted and shunned. I never dreamed of being in a care home, although its purposes are good. Day in day and day out you would find me loitering around in the long passage halls, holding my comforter doll, Barn, in my fragile hands.  I spoke to him softly and sometimes I do shout loudly. There is sporadic anger that spills out of me and pushes me to fight. To fight anybody that comes my way. To those who know me they tell me to calm down. They use every useful technique to distract me but my story does not end here. Sometimes I have told people that my mummy loves me.

I have always asked people: Do you know where my mummy is? When is she coming to take me home? Sometimes I have told people  that my mummy was with me, and that we went to McDonalds together. I  have always seen people looking at me with strange eyes and I wondered why? But when Terry, my friend comes to see me he spoke of mummy in the past and it bewildered me. I have called for my mummy everyday for I feel vulnerable. “Angela, your mummy passed away a long time ago,” said Terry. “No she didn’t”, I will respond. Terry shook his head. Sorry Angela, that’s all what he could say.

But there are other people who visits me and they call me mummy and I do not understand it. I can’t remember having children. But these people they tell me you are our real mother who bore us and we share the same blood. I nod my head, I remember you Nicola and David my little twins. How would I have forgotten you? They introduced me mummy here are your grand children Chris and Carol. The two children smiled back with smiles that light up a room. The children cuddled me all day long. “Nanny we love you”. “I love you too!”

“I want to come home,” I cried. “No mummy you can’t. Nobody will look after you? We have our lives. This is now your home.”  I looked at them with pleading eyes but no one hears my plea. “Mummy we are going we will see you next week.” Slowly I saw the door closed. Leaving me in my own solitary world. Where I see things moving that nobody could see it. Inwardly I cried for many things that I have lost, that I have lost when I moved into a care home. If anything was going to be reversible. I would cry for my childhood and remain young forever. I would never lose my home and my dignity.

Bibliophile.

I had visited Morrison with my other working colleagues the other day. We had our lunch with the client we were looking after. We were about to leave the supermarket when I noticed a pile of magazine just near the exit door. It was the title that drawn me to it and, the title Bibliophile written in capitals. Since it was free of charge, I grabbed one.

 I quickly browse through and discovered that the Bibliophile magazine had a list of an eclectic and diverse range of rare and popular sellers, favourite authors and enduring classics – the most unusual and exciting books in over 30 topics which you would normally never get to see.  These books are on bargain offers. The books prizes ranges  from £2.50 to £300. The good thing you are well-informed about the contents of the book (s) hence it makes easier to choose what you like.

Bibliophile is a person who loves books or collects book like me. I found myself ordering one. You might be interested in these books. I am going to make this simple for you by giving out the website which is as follows: www.bibliophilebooks.com You can telephone them on 020 74 74 24 74 or visit them on Bibliophile Books Unit 5 Datapoint Business Centre, 6 South Crescent, London, E16 4TL. I hope you will this information very useful.

Smart Animals and Birds

I followed an interesting documentary programme on BBC1 about Smart Animals.  I only grabbed this opportunity by chance because I was likely to miss it if I have not accidentally press the guide menu. It was absolutely exquisite to watch from the beginning to the end. I was left inspired from what I have learnt from these Smart animals and birds.  It was totally ingenious.

I came to a conclusion that if humans were able to communicate with animals and, this world would be a better place. There is kind of harmony when humans communicate with animals.  On this documentary programme different experiments were set up to see how the animals and birds would sort out different problems. The same experiments were placed upon human beings and find out how they would deal with the same problems. Interestingly there were some experiments, which human beings have failed to deliver but the animals came up with a solution in less than thirty seconds.

Every animal and bird had impressed me. The African, parrot, Alex, was able to communicate effectively. He was able to name and identify the colours, what the material is made of and even to say which material was bigger than the other. Some birds were deceptive in their ways of thinking hence probably it is their way of living. I would cite an example of different bird specie.  It was given two pieces of bread. My first instincts were that it was going to eat it immediately but surprisingly it just stared the bread for a while. After a long a pause it picked up one the pieces of bread and took to a nearby stream and dropped inside.  Immediately a shore of fish appeared and started eating the bread. This was the time for the bird that waited patiently started to catch fish easily using its beak. It caught two fish at a time and throws them on the grass. In less than few minutes it had caught a lot of fish. Its cunning behaviour did not stop there but it went and collected the second small piece of bread and dropped on another different sport to bait the fish. What happened next surprised me, a very big fish came up to eat the bread and the clever bird saw it and realised that it has less power to kill the big fish, so it quickly picked up the bread from water and dropped it the on another spot and the little fish came to eat. On this episode the bird taught me to maximise what you have. It might look so small, appealing to use at first glance but if you wait patiently that simple thing may catch bigger things for you.

There are so many intriguing scenes that I saw on that programme and which I could narrate to you for you to see the bigger picture of  how intelligent these creatures are but I can not but only to highlight. It is just the beginning of the ongoing documentary and the next episode is there next week. Check date from BBC programmes and stay tuned. I shall also bring up my early hood experiences with these animals and birds.

For the mean time I say to you, name it, know its colour, what is it made of, is it bigger or smaller, it is appealing to eat or use it now and could you wait patiently and use it wisely to catch up big “fish” in your life. There you will never go hungry like my little friend bird that I saw on the TV.

Another passage of Humour From the book written by Nelson Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom.

English: Nelson Mandela in Johannesburg, Gaute...

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A warder named van Rensburg he ill-treated the prisoners in any for he could and urinated next to their food. So, Nelson Mandela and fellow prisoners called van Rensburg “Suitcase”. They called him suitcase because he always carried his lunch box and warder’s lunch boxes were known as “suitcase” and normally a warder would designate a prisoner, usually his favourite to carry his “suitcase” and reward him with half a sandwich. Here is the passage for humour: it starts:

One day Wilton Mkwayi inadvertently referred to “Suitcase” within van Rensburg’s hearing.  “Who is Suitcase?” van Rensburg bellowed. Wilton paused for a moment and then blurted out,  “It’s you!” “Why do you call me “suitcase?” van Rensburg asked. Wilton replied tentatively. “The general prisoners carry the “suitcases” of their warders, but we won’t carry yours-so we call you Suitcase”

Van Rensburg considered this for a moment and, instead of getting angry, announced, “My name is not Suitcase, it’s Dik Nek.” There was a silence for a moment, and then all of us burst into laughter. In Afrikaans, “Dik Nek” literally means “thick neck”; it suggests someone who is stubborn and unyielding. Suitcase, I suspect, was too thick to know he had been insulted.

Humour From the book written by Nelson Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom.

English: Nelson Mandela's prison cell on Robbe...

Image via Wikipedia

I have read this book so many times but today one or two passages caught my eye. The passage relates to the church minister’s` visits at the Robben Island. It starts: “We were visited by a Coloured minister known as Brother September. One Sunday, a prisoner named Hennie Ferris, who was an eloquent speaker, volunteered to lead a prayer. Brother September was pleased to recognise such devotion. Hennie began to speak in lofty language and, at one point, asked the congregation to close its eyes and pray. Everyone including Brother September, obliged. Eddie, another prisoner, tiptoed to the front, opened Brother September’s briefcase, and removed the Sunday Times of that day.  No one suspected anything at the time but Brother September never brought newspaper again.”

Just to highlight what led Eddie to steal the newspaper it’s because Nelson Mandela and his fellow prisoners were prohibited to read anything including the newspapers and yet these political prisoners were eager to know what was happening outside the world. It was a criminal offence if newspapers were found in their cells. Yet they took great  risk to smuggle them in.