a postponed life

When we glanced in at the window, he appeared to be dead.  Then we noticed the gentle rise and fall of his frail chest. He was lying on a bench at the window, his scraggly bearded face turned away from us.  His arms were placed across his chest like a corpse.   A corpse that had seen better days.  In fact, a corpse would have been better turned out.  His forearms and hands were covered in lacerations and a lunatic attempt had been made to medicate the wounds. We tapped on the window a couple of times, but he continued to play dead, his toes curled up and pointing skywards. Fearing perhaps that something serious had befallen him, we rapped louder and called out to him and slowly he turned his face towards us, his glazed eyes battling to focus.  He lay unmoving for a while, just staring at us through the window.  Then he pulled himself upright and staggered to the door to let us in. "What day is it?", he said in greeting. "Su...

I've just finished cleaning up the house and everything is spotless and gleaming.  I make myself a cup of coffee and settle down at my desk to start writing.  It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining and the birds are twittering in the tall pine trees.  It's the kind of day that dogs love, when they can laze about in the sun doing nothing in particular. I sit at my desk writing for a while, trying to encourage the inspiration to sneak out of its hiding place, when I notice that a deathly hush has descended over the reserve and the birds are no longer twittering.  Something must have scared them off; they always manage to see the signs of approaching disaster before we do.  I hear now a steady rumbling off in the distance and over the rooftops I see a huge cloud of dust approaching fast.  Suddenly realising what it is, I jump up out of my chair and rush around the house madly, locking doors and closing windows.  "Batten down the hatches, there's...

They rarely acknowledged my existence.  I felt invisible at times, being there and yet not being there.  It was a strange sort of twilight zone I seemed to be living in. my thoughts, my feelings, my hopes and dreams churning around inside me continuously waiting for that precious invitation for an outpouring. The waiting would sometimes last for days but then eventually it would come like water to the thirsty. I always waited patiently for that moment of truth, as I opened my mouth to speak, to have my chance at last, to let them know of my ideas and to be seen for what I was.  A heart full of love and compassion, a comforter for the lost and homeless, an ear for the deaf and a voice for the voiceless.  I was always there to step into the breach, just waiting to be called. But just as my moment arrives, when I have every eye on me, it happens.  It's almost as if it happens with pre-planned precision.  They all start talking at the same tim...

The Leaning Tree of Eynsham Hall Abraham Lincoln once said : You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong. You cannot help small men by tearing down big men. You cannot help the poor by destroying the rich. You cannot help the wage earner by pulling down the wage payer. You cannot keep out of trouble by spending more than your income. You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatreds. You cannot establish security on borrowed money. You cannot build character and courage by taking away a man's initiative and independence. You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they could and should do for themselves. How true is that? It's something that I have always known, but the words that have always meant the most to me, are the opening words – you cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong. I have always been very strong, physically – of course, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually, a...

1959 23 Oct I was born in Johannesburg general Hospital sometime just after 5pm, so I hear. I am named Carol. Youngest daughter of Audrey Anne Bashford (no longer married to Bashford, formerly Andrews, born Blake), father – unknown. I am told his name is/was Roy van Aswegen? Never met him, so can't confirm.                                        LIFE SUCKS When you born you cry Then you try Then you die When you born you cry You live a lie Then you die When you born you cry You sigh You ask the reason why Then you die 1960 1961 Den and I get adopted by Harold Crombie. The best Dad ever. 1962 1963  Cally, Andy & Denny (& dollies) 1964 Sardine Fever at Marina Beach Denny, Andy, Mom ...