Nelly

My husband just came back from his boy’s weekend. His best friend is very much at home in the world of exclusive dining and rather knowledgeable in the realms of high end alcohol. He has also taken it upon himself to educate me, so he lets my husband bring things we could never afford. Usually exquisite wine, cognac or Champagne. This time it was two bottles of rare rum....

Now my knowledge of rum only goes as far as adding it to tea in winter, or that it was a staple to a pirate’s diet. Immediately I felt transported back in time, on board a pirate ship called “Golden Nelly”. The captain (obviously. my mate) named the ship after me (think Johnny Depp with less make-up and a parrot on his shoulder, called Admiral Green). He rescued me from the clutches of the awful Captain Red Beard, who abducted me in the middle of a stormy night from my father’s Chalet, and made me scrub the boards of his ship, the “Rotten Anchor”. Naturally there was a duel, Johnny won and we fell in love at first sight.

So now I am elegantly draped on board the “Golden Nelly” over barrels of rum, made comfortable by masses of  (stolen) velvet cushions, and the pirates are entertaining me and the captain with rough pirate songs, and drinking large amounts of rum from tin pitchers. They are actually a nice bunch, when they are not killing each other, or climbing on other ships to steal, and, because I am the captain’s wench, they treat me with respect and their own kind of charm. Only Admiral Green gives me a hard time: whenever I pass by him, he croakes “give us a kiss Nelly love”. Rather irritating. I wonder where he picked that up....

But I digress.... the rum I received is certainly. not meant for tin pitchers. I suppose one serves it in tumblers made out of Waterford Crystal, which sparkles in candle light. Maybe with a single perfect ice cube, after a luxurious dinner.... Or does one serve it as an Apertitive?

The world is full of things to discover, and I am grateful for friends who help open doors to new exeperiences. I will now see whether rum and I will become friends.... And, meanwhile back on board the “Golden Nelly”, the name giver of this friendly pirate ship is wondering whether her  captain and Admiral Green would consent to her having a cat on board...😉

Romance

A few days ago I was searching for some photos, and stumbled across old memories in the process. They ranged from photos of past romances to a pressed (meanwhile antique) red rose. That got me wondering.... With all the digitalization nowadays, what will the young people of today have in 20 years or so? There is nothing like the feel of an old, faded photo with a name and maybe a personal handwritten message on the back to bring back the memory of a long forgotten romance, or the musty scent of a dried flower to re live a special moment.

I also found old cards from my last year at school. Handwritten promises of undying friendship. People long forgotten and some unfortunately no longer with us.... Some sad memories, but all very moving and special. I wonder what became of some of those people, who were part of my every day life back then. And every little message brings things back to me.

What will happen to all of this, in the time of social networks, iPhone cameras which can store a multitude of photos, but where deleting is terribly simple.... How long do the cyber memories last, and who still has the photos from years and years ago?

I am very grateful for all the mementos of the past. Things I can actually hold in my hands, feel and smell. There are not many, but that makes it even more special, and brings a feeling of romance and personalization, which I find sadly missing in this day and age. Maybe one day actual letter writing will become popular again. Who knows...☺️

Meanwhile the cat doesn’t really care. She has discovered the pleasure in refusing her usual food, and insisting on raw meat and fish. Maybe that is her kind of romance, just as real to her as handwritten notes are to me😉

Svetlana

I wonder if other people, for instance my readers of this blog (should there be any) sometimes wish that they could have another person inside them, who is like one secretly would like to be like. Something like a second soul one could turn to for advice. This idea has been with me for quite a while, and now I feel confident enough to share my "other" half with you.... Her name is Svetlana Rohdowskaia, with the accent on the "do" please. Svetlana is a tough east European lady, at home in smart fitted pants suits or slim, knee length, figure hugging dresses. She is completely at home in 12 cm Louboutins.... her feet never hurt. Her hair is a bit darker than mine and immaculately styled. She prefers to wear her hair up. Naturally her make-up is always flawless. She is my height and has a seductively curvy figure which causes heads to turn wherever she appears.

Of course Svetlana plays the violin like a goddess. Everyone is in awe of her and she is not afraid of anything. She has very expressive eyes, and one pointed look of hers can have an entire army of men literally shake in their shoes. No one dares to cross Svetlana. But to her friends she is loyal and helpful and always ready to come when there is a crisis. Naturally she also has a cat.... A beautiful black cat with green eyes. 

Even though she is the essence of femininity, there is nothing girly about Svetlana. She simply is there and commands admiration and of course some jealousy from those around her.

I wonder what you would say if you actually met her...if she were actually real... Those of you who know me might be surprised. After all, I seem to have a lifelong contract with the "being cute" department. I do own those Louboutins, but boy, do they make my feet hurt.... I play the violin okay- ish, but goddess is entirely another category.... Yes, I have a cat and I love her, but she is just a cat... Not at all magical. Yes, I am curvy, but possibly too much so in certain areas.... As to being noticed and generating respect..... Well... It is rather easy to step all over me and I'm far too much of a softie.... Look at me with sad eyes and I'll do anything to make you feel better;-) Radiating confidence looks different.

But still....somewhere inside me, there lives Svetlana. Maybe I should pay more attention to her. Maybe I should consider how Svetlana might react in some situations. Maybe I should learn from her. And maybe I might grow up into a splendid Svetlana one day. She is there....just waiting to be let loose.

Get ready world for a change. Sonja might just leave and you now belong to the marvelous Svetlana RohDOwskaia.....one day....when I grow up... But Svetlana will keep Thomas and the cat ;-)

The Black Ilsland

Our holiday this year was in Lanzarote, which I call "the black island", because it is mainly black due to a six year volcano eruption a few centuries ago. Large parts of the island are covered in black lava rocks and the gardens are still made in black gravel. Grass is quite rare, no lawns, no trees other than palm trees, the odd Bougainville, no herbs, hardly any flowers, some Aloe, a couple of cactuses and no cows, sheep or goats.... We did see some cocks and hens in a farm museum, but we did not even come across a donkey. It doesn't really rain there, except of course when Mr and Mrs L. go there once in their lives. Then it rains. In August. The locals were stunned. It is always windy, and although the island is fairly small, there seems to be a different weather in every town. I got really cold on one or two occasions.

They do grow wine on Lanzarote, and in the oddest way: the vineyards consist of large stretches of black rubble with semi circle lava stone walls, which looks rather eerie, especially when the sky is overcast. First one sees nothing, but on closer inspection one can notice that little wells are dug into the gravel, inside which wine plants creep around the floor. Apparently the gravel soaks up the morning dew and supplies the plants with necessary moisture. The grapes have to be hand picked, because no vehicle can drive there. Actually the wine tastes quite good.

Lanzarote had a hard time during its history.... Either the volcanos did their thing, or pirates came and ransacked the island, killing as they pleased, and selling the captives they took as slaves. It must have been a horrid time for the inhabitants. The side effect of all this pain is now a huge tourist attraction: one can find most splendid lava caves, where the people went to hide and seek protection. We even saw a magical underground concert hall where regular chamber music concerts are performed. Apparently the acoustic is awesome. A local artist, Cesar Manrique, who did lots for the island, built himself a spectacular home in the caves.

But, amongst all the barrenness of Lanzarote, one can find things of great beauty. For one, the lovely sandy beaches, in colors varying from black over orange, yellow, golden to white. And in some parts where the coastline is a bit ragged, the power of the Atlantic Ocean is quite overwhelming. There is a tiny lagoon behind an orange sandstone riff, which has a bright emerald green color, thanks to an abundance of algae and then a black sand beach, followed by the stormy grey color of the sea. Now that was an unreal sight.

My personal highlight was the house of the late Omar Sharif, which he lost to a friend during a poker game. It is built into a series of caves, decorated by Manrique, with a lovely pool and cleverly placed plants. The place radiated perfect harmony and it was so beautifully calm, I could have stayed there forever. Naturally we found the only friendly cat of the island there. She was the shop cat (a shop specialising in Aloe Vera products). Her name was Michi and she played with me for a long time.

Actually animals always seem to bring about good feelings. Thomas' climax was our ride on a camel through a part of the desert also due to the volcano. He is still raving about the camel's feet... They look so soft and velvety....at least from the back, and camels do have lovely eyes. The camel behind us took a liking to us and alternatively nuzzled either Thomas' back or my arm. But as sweet as their feet might look, they are not exactly graceful animals, and after a bit I started feeling slightly queasy from all the shaking ;-)

On our hotel balcony we were visited by a pair of lovely doves every evening at 7pm. They pecked bread and oats from my hand, and I was even able to stroke them...

Sadly my cat did not appreciate the fact that we went away for a week, even though my parents came and lived with her in the house. She was ailing for a week after we got back, but now she is more like herself again, and she has LOTS to say all through the day and in the wee small hours of the morning ;-) 

It certainly was an interesting week on the black island, but nothing is better than our little house, my purring, and still slightly disapproving cat, and especially my own bed... But if someone would offer me Mr Sharif's house....not sure that I could resist :-)

An interesting night

;-)Last night I came back from work just before midnight. Our concert started late, it was an Italian Gala where the audience gets served a three course dinner during an hour long interval. We were restricted to the servant's quarters during this time, apparently we should rather not mingle with the public, especially when food is concerned... But we did not go hungry: we all pitched in and had our own buffet (and probably lots more fun than the audience).

When I arrived hom, I aired my unimportant thoughts on Facebook, had a brandy and checked my news and read a little. It was after 1.00 am by the time the cat and I decided to retire to bed. When I hit the switch for the bathroom light, I heard a noise and part of the house was shrouded in darkness. Normally this would be the time for me to utter a cry of "Thomas!!!!!", but he is spending some boy time with his friends in the Black Forest, in what must be the only place in Germany without handy reception. So I could not even text him in a vague hope that he might still be awake (actually he was). So the cat and I had to solve this problem by ourselves.

In the basement we have a large grey contraption on the wall with a multitude of switches inside. Once I managed to open it, I looked at the switches and they looked at me. We continued this game for a bit, until the cat, who came along for moral support, demanded that I make some kind of decision. Eventually I found one switch which was positioned differently from the others. I heroically turned it up and then the cat and I ventured back upstairs and I gingerly tried the bathroom lights again. One of them worked, but the big lightbulb had died. So now I had to find the light bulbs in the basement. In our household these things are "man tasks", but what are a girl and a cat to do if no man is present? Well, I found the lightbulb and now I had to bring a chair into the bathroom and exchange the bulbs, and was reminded once again that dusting is not one of my superior qualities....

By the time I removed my face and stored it in a safe place, it was getting close to 2.00 am. The cat was already sleeping on her chair, and I just snuggled into my empty bed when I heard rather loud music. Apparently someone in the neighborhood, whose musical taste is not at all in accordance with mine, felt the urge to share the fact that he or she were still awake and loved this particular CD, with the entire suburb. The sharing went on until about 3.00 am. At 5.00 am the cat came to check up on me and tell me her dreams....

On getting up this morning, the cat just opened one eye and sent me down to fix breakfast. She joined me when everything was ready, but when one looks closely, one can see dark rings under her eyes. Now we are both eagerly awaiting the return of Thomas, who warned me that he is rather sleep deprived. However I will insist that he makes my new iPhone get into our wifi, and I will probably talk his ears off... After all communication at home these past days was restricted to several versions of "meow" and "brrrrrr" and other kitty sounds...;-)

A little something

On Saturday evening I cooked my favourite dinner, Jamabalaya, a gorgeous tumble of chicken, chorizo, prawns, veggies, rice and Cajun spice. The recipe calls for 6 prawns and I diligently divide them between Thomas and myself. Somehow I got distracted when filling the plates, but I checked to see that we both got our three prawns, and it seemed right. After I savoured my three, I noticed that there was still one left on my plate, and I asked Thomas, who also still had one, how many he had eaten, to which he answered that he had two. Naturally I offered to share the extra prawn, but Thomas said I could have it. I was a bit puzzled, but came to the conclusion that the nice man at the counter must have given me an extra prawn, and silently decided that he was my new best friend.

When I wanted to clear the dishes, I noticed that there were only two tail ends on Thomas' plate compared to my four. So I scolded Thomas for not telling me the truth and felt pretty bad about my prawn related greed. Thomas just looked at me when I asked him why he did not claim his prawn and said that he left it for me happily because he loves me and knows that I have a weakness for prawns...now I ask you: who needs diamonds if you have a Thomas :-) Although of course I would be the last person to refuse a nice solitaire on a gold chain to wear around my neck ;-)

The cat loves it when I make Jambalaya. She gets a few morsels of organic raw chicken filet, which , I suppose, is the equivalent of a diamond pendant for her :-) 

On that note I shall now resume my cleaning duties.... A Thomas like mine deserves to come back to a sparkling fresh home after a hard day's teaching.

Bel Canto Cat

Those of you (if any) who follow this blog will know that I am owned by a cat who is quite communicative. She has an opinion on nearly everything and is not at all shy to express it. We have "little" conversations like just now: the cat was outside and wanted to come in. When I opened the door she inmediately told me that she was out in the wilds (garden), that no enemies were in sight and that the silly mice refused to come and play and that I must come and pet her inmediately, which of course I did. Or we have the "Sonja comes back home from work" conversation: THERE you are! I was alone ALL evening (never mind that Thomas was practicing in his room in the basement). No one cuddled me (she tends to hiss at Thomas when he tries) and I am absolutely STARVED (Thomas only let her snack twice or so). And then she continues meowing and stepping on my feet until I have cuddled her and saved her from imminent starvation. And then there is the pitiful "little kitten" meow, when we go off somewhere, accompanied by an attack of weakness, causing the "poor" cat to collapse in front of the front door.( the capitals indicated her perfected use of crescendo)

And then there are her arias....mostly brought to kitty perfection somewhere between 5 and 6 am. We have quite a repertoire of arias. For instance the "Look, I brought you a present" aria. It is an accompanied version, uttered by cat with mouse in mouth, mouse squeaking sadly, and me calling "Thomas....MOUSE" and the hasty footsteps of Thomas, trying to rescue the poor mouse. This is more of an afternoon aria. We also have the "get out of my garden now" number, which is usually sung by the cat behind the living room window (safely inside), in a very convincing fortissimo, sometimes accompanied by hissing, spitting and jumping against window and directed against another kitty intruder. Once we chased the bad guy away, the aria still continues, cat now under the chair, and the tone changes to a low dangerous yowl. It is wise not to touch the cat during this aria. Once that is over, we have the dramatic soprano cat aria, in which she tells how she bravely fought the enemy just to protect us. This aria can occur at any time of day or night. Then the cat also feels inspired to sing when I practice during the afternoon...in the mornings she stays quiet... These arias are naturally also of the accompanied sort, with me and the violin, and the cat sometimes throwing herself at my music room door. When I open the door, she drops on the floor half on top of me and starts purring furiously. Once I did not give in, and our Duo continued for a whole hour. This aria is also sometimes sung by the cat when I teach, but the tone is a lot more desperate.

Lately there have not been any early morning serenades by the cat. I somehow hoped that she had grown out of them. But this morning we were treated to a whole new version. Usually the cat is more of a soprano, but in this new version she has definately transformed into a solid mezzo. The sounds she uttered were rather dark, lots of "o's" involved. She started on the stairs from the living room, then she took a short break, probably in my music room, and then sat on the stairs up to the bedroom. The aria was rather long, it had a different variation on every stair... There are 15 between the levels....First I thought she might stop, then we got slightly annoyed and tried to get her to keep quiet and then Thomas, who is even less of a morning person than me, began to laugh. It was 6.30 am and the alarm clock was due to go off in an hour... Finally the cat arrived in the bedroom and we thought that we could still sleep for a bit, but the cat had other plans. She sat down next to my side of the bed and sang yet another song, a less dramatic one and a lot shorter, and then she finally hopped into my arm in bed for her morning cuddle. Now of course, she is quite exhausted after all the singing and is sleeping on one of her many chairs.

I really do not claim to know much about rebirth and former existences, but somehow I have a feeling that the cat either must have been a famous singer in another existence, or that she will be one in a future life. And Thomas and I were able to be part of her practicing sessions. We feel honored ;-)

A stranger in the Bedroom

On Sunday afternoon I was wondering why the heaters were all cold. In winter my usual place is with my back firmly attached to a heater (that is, if no fire is burning, in which case I would plant myself in front of the fireplace) in order to get warm. Of course I could take up jogging, or walk around with a hot water bottle, but that does seem very unglamorous. I decided to try to thaw out in a hot bath...that usually keeps me warm for a while. So I ran the bath water and gleefully climbed in, just to find that the water was no more than lukewarm. I thought it was time to alert Thomas, my personal "fixer of everything". Knowing that my sense of hot or cold is somewhat different from that of most people, Thomas joined me in the bath....to test the temperature of course. For once he agreed with me that the water was rather cool (he now has a cold by the way), and that the heating might be broken somehow. So my capable husband went upstairs to where the actual heater is situated, just to see red lights flashing and the word "defect" on the display. After consulting the manual and my assurances that I know that he can fix EVERYTHING, my knight in shining armor once again most bravely faced the "dragon" and pressed some switches and gave the thing a pat and it worked again after a while. However, Thomas decided that we need a specialist to come look over the thing.

Today was the big day. The specialist was scheduled to come at 12, by which time Thomas would be back from his rehearsal. He had just left, and I had just finished putting my face on, and was planning on spending some quality time with my violin, when the phone rang. It was the specialist, informing me that he would be here within 10 minutes. So I called Thomas to find out what I needed to tell the man, and there he was already. My very brave cat looked at him once and headed for the corner behind the sofa, where she remained for the entire duration of his stay. So much for moral kitty support. I showed the stranger up to the bedroom, inwardly relieved that I had already made the bed, and showed him his patient. I did feel obliged to watch in admiration for a bit, but that grew rather boring. The stranger was ok looking, but he did have a rather loud voice and seemed to take great pleasure in lecturing me on all sorts of things from broken screws to possible gas explosions. He then went to fetch a decompression machine, and I tried to talk my cat into coming out of her corner, but she ignored me. So I fled into my kitchen and vigorously started to clean all,sorts of things, while the most alarming noise erupted from the bedroom. I did consider calling Thomas again, asking him to rescue the cat and me before the whole house would explode, but I reminded myself that I was supposed to be a grown up person with a solid South African backbone....fearless to a fault, and I did not bother him, which made me very proud of myself for a short while.

After an hour and a half, the stranger came downstairs and informed me that he did not really know what the problem was and except for the broken screw things seemed ok. However, in order to fix the screw problem, an entire part needed to be exchanged and that would set us back about 100€. We are also anticipating a rather large fee for the stranger's visit this morning....

He is gone now, and the cat has emerged from behind the sofa. After inspecting her house, she has been singing arias of complaint ever since. She objects vehemently to strangers entering her bedroom. And considering the costs facing us in the near future, I'm not so keen on them either. After all, my Thomas can fix everything :-)

A Poem

Another Monday, cold and grey. 

Even the smell of freshly brewed coffee can't make the cobwebs go away.

The thought of permanent sleep is close to my heart,

But I am a victim of my art. 

I need to play, but that can't be done,

The reasons for this a far more than one...

Why did I end up here in a place that I hate? 

Another reason I can not relate.

Am I a poet? Good heaven's NO

I'm dreaming of somewhere nice to go.

A place all sunny, bright and so gay

That it makes the nightly demons go away

Perhaps with a sparkly beach near by

So that I can sit down on golden sand and cry.

The waves will wash my tears away

And maybe that will be a place where I can stay.

A place of beauty and warmth and no snow

So that my inner self can come back and glow.

I just wish to be happy and have fun and play

And not be surrounded by all this grey.

Yes, I am lonely and I feel sad

In spite of some good things, and that makes me feel bad.

My spirit has left me and my freezing heart.

Where do I look to for rescue? My art?

It's just another Monday, cold and grey

And the coffee did not make the cobwebs go away....

Royalty

We watched a documentary about the house of Winsor. Not the current ones, but from way back, when they were still in black and white..... King George and Queen Mary. I firmly bleive that every nation needs a King and Queen. The people need someone they can look up to and admire. Let's face it, our politicians are mostly not any kind of role model, and looking up to heiresses, soccer players or pop stars is not really satisfying, at least for me. I'm sure that every little girl dreams of being a princess at one stage in her life, wearing bejeweled gowns and tiaras, going to balls and falling in love with a dashing Prince, preferably on a white or black horse, driving about in gilded carriages and waving regally to her people... Of course I would not know whether little boys dream of being king, but then, who cares ;-)

Last night, as I was once again removing my face and storing it in a safe place for the night, I dreamt up a scenario, where I would receive a letter from Buckingham Palace, declaring that I was some long lost royal relative (after all the German and British monarchy were mixed up with one another), and that it was the Queen's wish that I would be incorporated into the royal family. I do have some connection to royalty somewhere way back, so it would be ever so slightly believable.... Of course I would not get to be Queen, Prince William and his Kate are much better suited for that job, but I would get a palace and pretty dresses with matching shoes and maybe even a carriage. I conveniently blended out the part of hurting feet, because of having to wear high heels all the time. The cat would have plenty of rooms to play in and the turtles would have a great big heated pool. Maybe I could play as a soloist with the London Philharmonic Orchestra occasionally. It would be wonderful to read the announcement: this evening's soloist will be HRH Princess Sonja in Korngold's Violin Comcerto.... And Thomas could do the ruling of the country bit. I'm sure the current Prince of Wales is far too busy being Prince, representing, and raising children. The only problem I see there is that Thomas is not really a suit person, so we might have to work on his style of dressing. I must say, I truly warmed to this scenario. So, when I emerged from the bathroom, I stood in front of Thomas, faceless and in a pale blue nighty with the word "loveable" embroidered on the front, and announced that I intend to be a princess. After some sighing and more contemplation, Thomas informed me that he did not want to be royal. All the dinner parties and paparazzi.... But he did not mind the idea of a palace to live in. And then he said that I already WAS royal....I am apparently his Queen. Needless to say, I melted there and then, and regally climbed the stairs to the bedroom, feeling very much a princess :-) Now if he would only get me a diamond tiara, and maybe a sparkling emerald necklace (emeralds are supposed to bring beauty and eternal youth), cleaning the house would seem so much more pleasant.

Of course the cat would need a suitable collar, and her arias need to be transformed into something more noble. We will work on that.

Yes, you may call me "Your Majesty" and please  remember to curtsy when you run into me.

Breakfast Conversation

I tend to have rather vivd dreams. Last night I dreamt that I had to check into a hotel for work related reasons. My room was the miniature replica of a medieval castle, with a fancy basin in the bathroom. It was covered by a marble slate which slid away on opening the cupboard above it. There was also a closet which was literally stuffed with fluffy black terry robes in all sizes, for men, women and children, as well as matching terry slippers. There were also some skimpy silk nighties, one of which I would not mind owning in real life ;-) But the closet was pretty messy. Anyway, I put on one of the robes and wondered where to get some food, when the door of my room opened, and the lady from reception was there, with an Asian woman who wanted to see what the rooms looked like. I was pretty angry....after all they disturbed my privacy and they did not bother to knock! I wanted to storm out and see the manager to complain, but was held back by a young porter, who suggested that I might not really be properly dressed for such an act. Of course, he was right. He also showed me how to secure the door with a device that I also have on my lanterns outside in real life, and remarked that the girl from reception was new to her job. So I did not complain and simply asked where I could get some food. Then I woke up....

This morning, at breakfast Thomas asked me how I slept. Now, us both not really being morning people, we sometimes are just silent during breakfast, but, after such vivd dreams, I do tend to be quite chatty...I told Thomas that I slept well and told him my dream, as I often do. He then asked me whether I heard the wind rattling during the night, which I denied. After all I was very busy dreaming (which might explain why I am so tired during the day...). So he said that, seeing that I slept, he could understand that I did not hear the wind, to which I asked him what he did during the night.Thomas is a very down to earth person, not at all prone to fanciful outbursts, sensible nearly to a fault. So you can imagine my surprise when he said that he was watching over me, always ready to protect me. Baffled I asked him what he wanted to protect me against, and he answered that he was on the alert in case a werewolf would come and get me. So I asked Thomas whether he would wake me when the werewolf arrived, so that I could rescue HIM. To this my Thomas said that he would put on his armour and tackle the werewolf outside in our garden....

All this happened before my first espresso. We are just a normal couple, right? 

Meanwhile the cat was snoozing on one of her many chairs, probably wondering why it was so noisy and regretting that she missed out on her "early morning in bed" cuddle. She did sing an aria at about 6am, but did not come upstairs. I wonder what she dreamt about...

A Christmas Story

Once upon a time a little girl with a big voice was born in a town in Germany in the height of summer. To get the girl to be quiet, her parents had to emigrate all the way to South Africa. There the little girl grew up in a nice house with a big garden. She had a happy, sunny childhood and especially loved Christmas time. She adored going to ballet performances at the theatre on Christmas Eve. The little girl, remembering her german heritage, and thinking that all of her birth country was covered in snow during this season, making it look like the pictures on cookie tins, took great pains to cover all the window sills with white cotton wool and sprinkle silver glitter over them, so as to create a wintry atmosphere while the outside temperature was somewhere around 30 degrees. Every year the parcel arrived from the grandparents in Germany, with the most important ingredient: the black syrup, which the girl's mother needed to bake her special gingerbread cookies. As usual, the syrup leaked out of its container and created a sticky mess with the rest of the parcel's content, which did not exactly reduce the stress level of the girl's parents....but somehow this was as much part of Christmas, as the dinner of fried baby sole with potato salad and home made apricot sorbet served inside some sparkling wine :-) The artificial tree would be decorated on the 24th. Every year two kudu horns were placed in front each adorned with 10 candles and naturally generously sprinkled with silver glitter. Sometimes, the family would go to the beach on Christmas Day and then friends would come over for dinner, for which the little girl made place cards, urged her mother to take out the special plates, and decorated the table with lots of silver glitter ;-)

With the passing of time, the little girl obviously grew up...I may still be little, and the girl bit can only  be noticed with very reduced lighting and by an extremely benevolent beholder on a very good day... As fate would have it, the "grown up" version of me now lives back in the town where I was born. The loud voice is  no longer there...it must have been left behind together with the very sunny disposition I used to have back in South Africa. Some things, however do not change. I still love Christmas even though there hardly ever is snow, and I still have the tendency to put silver glitter over things :-) I am often cold and maybe a bit lonely, the mostly grey weather makes me sad... It took quite some time for me to accept the fact that I would never have children of my own. We do have a real Christmas tree with the candles actually ON it. I still decorate the tree on the 24th. While doing that my mind tends to wander, and, being ever so slightly materialistically inclined, and inspired by the grayness outside, I tend to bemoan the fact that I have no induction stove top, I will never get the pretty diamond ring that I am dreaming about, nor that dreamy lingerie.... But then, by chance I casually look at Thomas, as he puts the top decoration on the tree, and it suddenly strikes me: of all the beautiful, wealthy, accomplished, smart women in the world, some cosmic force has decided to entrust this man to my care. This handsome, clever man, caring and patient has decided to put his entire trust in me. I may cook for him, it is my lap he lies on when he is tired, he cuddles up to me when he has bad dreams, and he comes home to me after a long day's work, trusting that I will be there for him. This is ME we are talking about here, 154 cm of not always easy to handle ex little girl, not some super model, power woman who has both feet firmly planted on the ground. And then I feel completely overwhelmed. This one person has given his life to me. And I realise that indeed I have my very own Christmas miracle on the ladder just in front of me. Of course this does not mean that I would complain bitterly of a new pair of Louboutins...

I still miss the little girl and I wish, for the sake of Thomas and for myself, that I could recapture some of the sunny nature I used to have, and yes, I get terribly homesick for Christmas in summer. But truly, I know that I have been given a wonderful gift in the shape of Thomas. And of course my little furry "daughter", the cat, who would sing loud arias of displeasure should I forget to mention her ;-)

Have yourselves a Merry Christmas:-)

Conversations

Sitting at dinner with Thomas. 

Me: So, what would you like for Christmas?

Thomas( furrowing his brow, rolling his eyes and sighing more dramatically than I ever could): Hmmm... I don't know.., actually I have everything...

Me: But surely there must be something you would like...

Thomas ( after much mumbling and more sighs): Well, maybe a new really good tennis racket...

Me: Ok, but I can't get that for you (acquiring a racket is like getting a violin bow... It has to feel right, have the correct weight, etc). You will have to get it for yourself

Thomas: hmmm

Me: isn't there anything you would just like, what you don't really need, something just for fun?

Thomas: what do you want for Christmas?

Me (lighting up like the proverbial Christmas tree): Well, remember that painting I showed you on my Pinterest page? The one I want to hang over the bed?

Thomas: (something intelligible)

Me (getting into the spirit of things): and remember that ring I told you about? The one that looks like a wedding band surrounded by diamonds? And I would truly like a little solitaire to hang on my gold chain...

(By this time, Thomas has gone  a frightening shade of grey. I notice and decide to calm down a bit)

Me: I do want a violin case which is a bit lighter and thinner..

(Relief floods over Thomas. The owner of the music shop and I had a fling long before I met Thomas and he promised me a substantial discount on a new violin case. Thomas knows all about this slight glitch in my past)

Me: and there is this wooden bread tin... You know they say bread keeps a lot fresher in it...

Me: well perhaps you can make a list of things that might make you happy..

A few days later, just before going to bed. I have just removed my face and stand in front of Thomas in my beloved, ancient, well worn nighty, full of holes in the strangest places...

Me: So what would you like for Christmas?

Thomas (places his hands on my shoulder and looks into my green eyes): World peace...

Now how am I supposed to do that? It's not as though I can order world peace from Amazon and put it in a box with a pretty ribbon around it.... But then... Maybe I can...;-)

Now the cat is much easier to please. She meowed to me that she wants a few pieces of raw organic chicken filet, followed by some cream and a tiny piece of butter :-)

Fortified by a nice cup of hot chocolate, I shall now go in search of world peace and a pretty box to wrap it in and some Christmas decorations for the house...'Tis the season to be merry after all ;-)

It still exists !!

We have been covered in fog for quite a while now. This past week was exceptionally hard, as it was spent in a cold, gloomy church, rehearsing and performing rather gloomy, but partly still beautiful music, namely the Brahms Requiem. The other "work" was a contemporary something, based on Korean death liturgy...not very cheerful....So, I opened the curtains in the morning, grey outside. Into a grey church, outside again, still grey and so on. Things did get slightly better after I discovered some hand warmers, a gift from my brother in law from the US. But life was still pretty grey.

This morning it was the same. I opened the curtains....grey. In addition I have an awful backache, but I am applying my trusted cure: I ignore it, then I ignore it some more, then I hope for the power of Tender Loving Care and a nice fire, and if that won't work, painkillers :-) So I settled for the fact that the sun is somewhere on holiday, and has forgotten all about this little town and me. I sighed most melodramatically and then, suddenly, the fog lifted and we were surrounded by a burst of colour. It was magical and very beautiful. I felt so joyful...I even had the urge to burst into song, but, sadly, the only bursting I can do right now is a low grumble, having lost my voice somewhere in the cold church. Of course Thomas is being very nice about it, saying the sounds I utter are "husky" ;-) 

Anyway, the spectacle is over by now, and it is all grey again. Still, the magical experience from earlier this morning will stay with me for a while. Such beauty....and I know now that the sun has not quite forgotten us over here.

Even the cat felt the magic and was very silly, jumping around and catching leaves...not at all becoming for a lady of her age ;-) Naturally she is now quite exhausted and resting on her sofa (yes, she has her own sofa upstairs in the bedroom).

Who knows...if we all concentrate very hard, we can make the sun come back for a few minutes....Will you help me?

Two musicians in the forest

It was a lovely day today, the first in a long time where the sun managed to make its way through the fog. That is why Thomas and I felt inspired to go to the forest. My ulterior motive was to gather pine cones for decorations. Note to self: when searching for pine cones, go to a forest which actually has pine trees....it makes things a lot easier ;-) So, no pine cones. In fact, we were completely alone. No joggers or dog walkers, or other humans. It was very quiet,except for an occasional bird, probably telling its fellow birds about these two weird humans, one in proper walking shoes (that was obviously not me) and the other one in ballerinas and a long dress ( that was obviously not Thomas). Other than pine cones, I did hope to see some animals, maybe a squirrel or a deer, but they were apparently not there today. However, what we did see was a sign, asking us to protect the forest ants. Now I don't know what makes forest ants different to other ants, but according to the sign, they are extremely useful. Having a rather active imagination, I inmediately saw Thomas and myself dressed up as warriors, complete with flaming swords (yes I know that Halloween was yesterday), standing in front of an ant and fiercely protecting it against whatever.... I'm sure Wagner could have composed a five hour opera given this scenario ;-)

Oh well, in spite of the absence of bears, wolves, deer and squirrels, it was a very lovely walk. The sun filtered through the leaves, and everything was bathed in a soft orange light. The crunching sound of the leaves which we walked over, the hammering of the woodpeckers on the trees, and not a car to be heard.....And the forest smells...a bit mushroomy and fresh and clean....yes, it was very nice.

And the cat is presently telling me to get away from my iPad and into the kitchen to cook her some chicken. As always, she reminds me of the REALLY important things in life: food and cuddles.

The last Rose of summer

We have been living in our little house for eleven years now. After about a year we planted things in our garden, including two rose bushes. Of course I wanted red and white roses, but, like many other things, that went wrong and now we have a yellow and a white rose bush. These things happen when you trust a "garden designer"... But, the roses are of course not to blame. In fact they do their best to flower every year and are the reason for much happiness in our little household.

This year we sadly did not really have a proper summer. It rained a lot and it was not really hot, which also has the positive side effect that we could sleep at night (our bedroom is situated under the roof, where heat usually gathers). Presently we are settling in for autumn. So far we can't complain. It was mild and often fairly sunny, and the colours outside are very beautiful at times. A few days ago I noticed that the yellow rose bush was actually carrying one blossom. Two days ago it opened and looked quite nice. Today it really opened up and looked so cheerful and actually perfect. As the nights are starting to grow very cold, Thomas cut off the rose and brought it inside so that it can live a little longer. Now our roses never had any kind of scent, but that didn't bother us. I have no idea why, but today Thomas decided to smell at the rose. Without saying anything, he passed it to me and I took a sniff and was amazed! The rose gave off the most painfully beautiful scent...not too weak and not too strong...in other words, just perfect. A mixture of memories, hope, sadness, as well as happiness....it utterly baffled and moved me. It was as though the rose wanted to send me a message...

And for once, the cat had no fitting aria to sing. Maybe the language of cats and roses is a bit too different. But I'm sure she will make up for it just before the crack of dawn tomorrow ;-)

Belonging

This morning while putting on my face (yes, I do take it off every night and hide it in a safe place, so consequently I tend to get up faceless in the mornings...poor Thomas), I suddenly realised that, if it weren't for the theatre here in Würzburg where I am currently working, I would not exist. If I remember correctly, my late grandfather did a bit of freelance acting in the theatre in his day, and my parents met at the ball which was hosted by the theatre. My mother is from here and my father studied the French Horn here at the music college. He also played in the orchestra as a student when the then "new" theatre re opened, after having been destroyed during the war. I uttered my first screams here, not exactly in the theatre, but certainly close by.... Shortly after these screams, and I sincerely hope not BECAUSE of them, my parents and I moved to Regensburg, where my father had a job at the opera house, and shortly after that we emigrated to South Africa.

I spent my formative years in that beautiful country, went to government schools and got my university degree. I felt very much at home there, but was always treated a bit like an outsider. Not at all in a nasty way, but it was always clear that I was not really "one of them". After the completion of my studies, I came to Germany to further my education. Things did not quite go as planned due to circumstances beyond my control, and I found myself short of funds and in need of a job. For some or other reason, fate decided to send me back to the city of my birth. Being young and optimistic, I told myself that everything would be all right as I now was where I belonged. Still I could not warm to the city. Just as I was about to leave, fate cemented my stay here by firmly fixing Thomas in my life. Still being young and optimistic, I told myself that it was a sign and that I now belonged here, but after some time I realised that it was the same as in my beloved South Africa: I was "at home", but never got to be "one of them" until today...

So, how does one know where one belongs? Of course there are all these sayings like "home is where the heart is" etc. Well the two most important people of my life are here...and yes, I certainly consider the cat as a "people", and so would you if you would have heard her rather long and voluminous aria at the crack of dawn this morning, just before she came into the bed for her cuddle, I have my job which I love and my cute little colourful house, but still, even after all this time, I never managed to feel as though I belong here...

Anyway, I am still young (ok...on a good day, with the right lighting and seen from a certain angle maybe) and there is still some optimism there somewhere, so I will firmly tell myself that someday I will arrive somewhere, with the cat and Thomas and know that I finally BELONG. And the cat will sing another aria, and all will be well :-)

A Violinist with a Mission

On Sunday it will be Thomas' birthday. He already has his "big" present, a fancy flash for his camera, but I like to have something in pretty wrapping paper, which he does not necessarily expect, to surprise him. As I had this morning off and he had to work, I decided that today was the day to set out on my mission. Needless to say, the rain is pouring down, but I do have a very pretty umbrella, so I braved the elements and set out. First I did the groceries, even a  birthday having husband gets hungry, and deposited the basket in my dressing room before I set out again. Thomas expressed the wish for a headset for his smartphone some time ago, so that was my purpose. After all, it should not be too hard to find something like that in town, or so I thought.....

On my way to store No 1, I had been splashed by passing cars three times, and therefore my legs and shoes were rather wet. Action HAD to be taken, so I detoured into a shoe store, where I probably unearthed the last pair of rain boots in town. They were affordable and not too bad looking, so I bought them and wore them at once. Now that the crisis of wet feet had been remedied, I cheerfully set forth to complete my mission. In the store of my choice, there were two customers standing ahead of me, but I decided to wait. I like studying people, so I did not really mind. I waited....and waited.....and waited...nothing at all seemed to happen with the customers who were being served. Meanwhile the line behind me went all through the store and continued outside. After 20 minutes of standinding, I gave up and decided, still rather cheerful, to try another store.

On my way there, I took full advantage of my new boots and gleefully stepped into every puddle. That was fun...I arrived at store No 2. All counters were busy, but there was no one else, so I decided to wait. After 10 minutes of no action, I decided to leave, and try my luck on the way back. Now comes my true act of heroism: slowly being at a loss of where else I could go to look for this headset, I took several deep breaths and entered one of these big, confusing media stuff stores, which are always completely full and cause me to panic. I even approached a salesperson and, with my most charming smile, asked whether he could help me. The man did speak to me, but mumbled so badly that I had to ask several times what he meant, until I finally thought that I possibly recognised the word "Bluetooth". I took that for a good sign and followed him. He, rather uncharmingly, lead me into an aisle and pointed to a shelf and left. I was faced by a variety of headsets in an even greater variety of prices and felt utterly at loss. Thoughts of emigrating entered my mind, but I pulled myself together and left the store, or rather fled from the store.

By now I was running out of time, but needed some positive imput, so I interrupted my mission to head to my favourite store to buy some lovely bubble bath...a very cheering act. In the shop I listened to the shopkeepers life story, smashed front car window, lost handbag, and was given a large handful of toffee's. On my way back I wanted to give store No 2 another try, just to see that NOTHING had changed during my absence. Still the same customers at the same counters. 

I tried two more shops, and finally, in the last one, and exactly five minutes before I was to meet up with Thomas, I found a lady, who spoke a language that I actually understood, who was able to smile, and to help me. Of course I did not get exactly what I wanted, I have no idea whether it is the right thing, and it has to be ordered and will only arrive next week, but the mission was completed. Unfortunately I will not have anything surprising for Thomas on Sunday, but I can always wrap up an empty box and put a note inside, reading: "Will be delivered sometime next week. Love, Sonja"

Meanwhile, back at home, the cat is wondering why I rather spend time writing this, than petting her instead. After all, in her world, I am to blame for the rain....

Maybe I should go jump into a few puddles now

Inventions

There are so many very clever people around, who invent all sorts of things. Unfortunately many of these people spend a huge amount of time developing highly complicated stuff which nobody can really use. Now if they would ask me....I have a few sensible suggestions for inventors. For instance, the self cleaning bathroom...all those tiles that need to be washed....or a dust eating house...no more notes for loved ones written in the dust on some cabinet ...or a vacuum cleaner that climbs up the walls and takes away the cobwebs that inevitably gather in corners under the ceiling...

Today it is raining, actually it has been doing that quite a lot lately, and , as usual in this weather, I got wet feet. Now I have a suggestion for shoe designers...Messrs Louboutin and Manolo take note : How about inventing some nice, affordable pairs of gum boots, that are stylish enough to wear with a dress, and do not make the potential wearer feel like an overgrown ten year old... I'm sure there would be a huge market for something like that. On the other hand....the thought of donning pink rain boots with a matching cape, wearing my hair in pigtails and jumping gleefully into the puddles just like a ten year old would, does hold a certain appeal ;-)

Naturally the cat would have four little booties too and a cape matching mine...now here is yet another idea for a sensible invention...:-)

Here is to singing in the rain and hoping...

Oh dear...Holidays

Once again the time has arrived for me to break out in holiday terror. We tend to book our summer getaway in February, by which time we already have endured a few months of cold and very little sun. Invariably thoughts of immigrating are very alluring, and the idea of 40+ degrees and glaring sun combined with an ocean becomes rather appealing. So we head off to our favourite travel agent, brainstorm with her and leave the agency a whole lot poorer, but filled with tantalizing visions of sunshine , a nice hotel and walking bare foot over soft white sand, whilst listening to the gentle murmur of waves...

Then the time arrives. The season has ended and I go into my post work depression. My parents are "booked" to look after the cat and the turtles. The day before we leave is filled with bringing the violin for its check up, the obligatory "my mother is coming the house has to be clean" panic, the packing of the suitcase (we always travel with only one suitcase ...actually we own only one suitcase). The usual worries..did we pack enough underwear, does suntan lotion actually go off after five years,what jewelry shall I take, what to wear on the trip, do I have everything I need to put my face on....all accompanied by the mournfully accusing looks of the cat. My parents arrive with what looks like all their worldly belongings and then we head out to dinner with them. By this time I am convinced that the whole holiday thing is highly unnecessary and that we should just pass on the tickets and everything to my parents and stay home with the cat. After all I wanted her and she is my responsibility and I am a terrible cat mommy, abandoning her like that. The taxi is ordered for just after 7 am. Finally we head to bed, knowing that we have to get up at 5.30, fervently hoping that the cat will not throw up during the night, which she usually does....

The morning of departure dawns. We creep out of bed, so as not to wake up my parents. I cringe innerly and shush the cat as she begins with her rather loud morning aria, this time tinged with accusatory notes... After a hurried breakfast and a severely disrupted morning routine, the taxi comes and brings us to the station. We stand there, feeling lost in the early morning,waiting at our singularly unattractive station for the train. Once we arrive at Frankfurt airport, total confusion sets in on my part, and I never fail to be overawed by the fact that Thomas always knows exactly where to go. I would just get horribly lost. By this time I have only one thought in my head : COFFEE ! After much running we arrive where we have to be and now starts the part of feeling like a criminal. The handbag goes through the security thing and a usually butch lady in unbecoming health shoes makes me take off my shoes, paws me down and then runs the metal detector up and down me, which always starts beeping because of my hair clips and makes me feel awful. The COFFEE voice in my head has grown very persistent. When, after much trials the suitcase has finally been checked in, and I have not given in to the urge to murder someone, I see a coffee sign on the horizon. Finally, after the first sip of the strong, black, hot liquid, I can at last relax and begin to realise that I am supposed to be on a lovely holiday....that is until bewilderment hits me on arrival at our destination ...

I never claimed to be a rationally thinking,grown up person. That is all I can say to my defense...

Happy holidays !