Tag Archives: Swaziland

The witch’s cauldron

Posted on February 21, 2017 by

Hubble bubble. Toil – and so much trouble. It’s been a while since I penned a post. Titles sit alphabetically festering in my file. Symbols, waiting to lead into eloquent cries of woe. Painful shrieks of angst. Or even, you … Continue reading →

Posted in Simple Food for Simple Folk (like me), Socks, spoons, stones and sunsets, Travelling, Zambia | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

North, south and nowhere. Of rape, politics, PR and simple geography

Posted on October 14, 2014 by

I’m angry. I apologise in advance if this is poorly researched, disjointed and incoherent. I’m not stopping to find things out, I’m writing from the heart, not the brain. And I’m writing as a northern English person who feels passionate … Continue reading →

Posted in Thinking, or ranting, or both | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Oh, sweet-heart! (and why you don’t need a cake tin to make a sponge cake)

Posted on October 6, 2012 by

I’ve thought a lot about the warthogs and I’ve reached a conclusion. They’re not going to stop me. I need out. I need to shop – no, don’t be sexist, not that kind of shopping, food shopping. I’m cooking for … Continue reading →

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Suzy’s cabin, a missed appointment & a little yellow pill

Posted on October 3, 2012 by

‘I’ve got a cabin on the game reserve – you can borrow it if you like.’ That’s Suzy speaking. She’s in Swaziland with the US Peace Corps and has the most amazing hair – long, naturally blonde, it falls nearly … Continue reading →

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Blind fury – a tale of failure from the bush (and possibly a parable for 2012)

Posted on September 21, 2012 by

Jim’s had a quadruple bypass, he’s in his mid 70s and lied about his age to get on the dig. A skilled engineer, he coaxes the ancient, paraffin-fuelled Coca Cola fridge back to life –for a day at least. Deanne … Continue reading →

Posted in Thinking, or ranting, or both, Travelling | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Mr Sledge sings thrice & the Land Rover doesn’t turn into a pumpkin

Posted on September 4, 2012 by

‘When a ma-an loves a wom-an . . . ’ Percy’s warming up, the same song three times, the same lines three times, testing the sound system. Not sure we can stay till he does his thing for real because … Continue reading →

Posted in Socks, spoons, stones and sunsets | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Tapeworm eggs, Sheba’s Breasts and Waiting for a Friend

Posted on August 4, 2012 by

I’m  having a flashback to the weekend before the exile. I’m all alone, kneeling in front of a tarpaulin, staring at a huge chunk of bloody flesh and bone – an impala’s hindquarters. Impalas leap as they run, springing off … Continue reading →

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