A note from afar!

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Hi, it's Rosey P across the sea! Greetings from a hot and dusty African village.

I’ve found an internet cafe in a village not far from where I live. I use the term cafe lightly! It’s certainly not the sort of place you’d come to for lunch! I just had a cup of coffee – it was SO bitter it nearly sucked me inside out!

They sell a local beer here. I don’t know what’s in it but a few feet away from me a group of men are sitting at a table covered with empty bottles and they are sort of swaying. Actually, it could have something to with what they’re smoking! I’m trying to ignore them but right now all I can see out of the corner of my eye are ten sets of grinning teeth and twenty swimming eyes! It is a problem being the only white-skinned blonde-haired female in the area. That’s not strictly true, because I’ve never really felt threatened in any way. Having said that I never stray far from home on my own, and right now my friend who is a fellow teacher from school with me. His name is Nangwaya which apparently means ‘don’t meddle with me’ so I feel pretty safe when he’s looking out for me! Apparently, the web is not a very reliable round here. Broadband doesn’t exist in the parts so if I suddenly stop midsentence don’t worry!

Oh golly-gosh, have you heard about those full-body scanners they are putting into airports? How embarrassing. They were trying them out at Heathrow when I flew out a couple of weeks ago and was asked if I minded going through one. I didn’t think anything of it at the time and I said I didn’t mind. After all, it was bad enough having to stand there barefoot and holding my jeans up (they made me take my belt off), I didn’t think it could get any worse. When I got through someone commented that I’d been brave to volunteer. I asked what she meant and she explained that the person looking at the screen could see all of me – underneath my clothes! I had no idea. Thank goodness I had clean underwear on! Apparently, it’s soon becoming compulsory so I have decided to try and track down some lead-based wool so I can knit myself a lead bra and knickers! That’ll fool them!

At school, we’ve been practising native songs to sing to a group of tourists that are visiting the village tomorrow. The songs we normally sing are pretty much the same as kids sing back home, but I don’t think our visitors would be very impressed if we treated then to an African version of Row Row Row the Boat or The Wheels on the Bus go Round and Round! We’ve also been making handicrafts which we sell to provide extra funds for the school. Guess what, I’ve even got some of them involved in my hobby, knitting, although the demand for woollen gloves and scarves is pretty limited in these parts!

I’m out of change and the computer will switch itself off in a moment, so I’ll stop now. Hopefully, I’ll be back on my blog thing again soon.

Love

I'm home for Christmas!

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It’s me, Rosey! I’ve come back for Christmas. I’ve only got a couple of weeks here and then it’s back to Africa for a few months. So much to do and so little time.

I’ve got to see Keithy, visit Fuz and Scruf, take a look at the allotment, meet up with my friends, buy some wool and knitting needles, and pop into school before the kids break up on Tuesday.

I’m hoping there will still be some snow on the ground. I remember having a snowball fight in the playground last winter. It was so embarrassing – I got snow in my eyes so I couldn’t see where the snow I was throwing was going! (that rhymes!). It took the head teacher all afternoon to dry out!

It’s strange to think that the children in my school in Africa have never seen snow, except in pictures. Most of them never will. It would be wonderful if there was a way I could take a snowman back with me!

Must go, things to be getting on with. I’ll try and leave a few words here before I fly away again. In the meantime, have a great Christmas. I know I will!
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Toodle-pip

I don’t like long goodbyes so I’ve decided to slip away quietly. When the sun comes up on a brand new day I’ll be above the clouds and on my way to my new life 8000 miles away working with children in Namibia.

I bade farewell to my parents this afternoon, and before travelling to the airport I met my friend Keith who thought I was still going to be here for a few more weeks. In fact, I'd told him a little white lie. For once he was speechless!

And just for once I was able to quote from a poem! ‘Don’t speak’ I told him. ‘Words will only steal the moment’

I’ll leave you with a photo which for me says more than words can ever do.

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Will you miss me?

I’m in a rut! I really am. I’m thirty years old and I’ve done nothing with my life. So I have decided to break free!

Loads of my friends are married - several have children, but I haven’t, so I reckon this is the moment to add a little adventure to my existence.

I love my job to bits. Working with kids is great fun, but I’m not a real teacher and to be honest my job could never really be termed a career. I’ve got my allotment which is fab, but giving it up is hardly going to make an impression on third world starvation. I knit like crazy, but I’m running out of people who want scarves and mittens.

So I’ve decided to take a few months out, and use my freedom to do a little bit for the planet or its people. I want to get away and look at my life from a distance. Then I can hopefully make a contribution somewhere in the world whilst at the same time decide exactly where I’m going from here.

I love penguins so my friend Whitesnake suggested I see if there were any opportunities down in the Antarctic. He thought that with nothing but ice and flightless birds around me I’d have plenty of opportunities for reflection. And he thought that maybe I could do my bit to help save the planet down there where things seem to be going wrong.

Trouble is, I can’t see myself going anywhere without things like my hairdryer. Call me vain, but that’s how it is. It occurred to me that every time I turned it on I’d melt a bit more ice and that would defeat the object of the exercise! And of course, if I took my fabulous water bed it would probably freeze solid!

Then I heard about something called VSO. I believe it stands for Voluntary Service Overseas. Actually it was a teacher at my school who told me about it and she thought that I could get a job similar to the one I have now, but working in a village in Africa with children less privileged than those I currently look after.

That was several weeks ago and I’ve now applied for a placement in Namibia. They told me that education there is suffering due to high incidence of aids in the country. Many teachers and assistants are unable to work as they have either contracted the disease themselves or have to look after family members who are sufferers.

If all goes to plan I’ll be away in three weeks. My cats Fuzzybut and Scruff are going to stay with a friend and I’ll rent out my flat to give me a little income whilst I’m away doing unpaid work.

I’ve decided not to continue with my blog while I’m away. Instead I’ll keep Keithy up to date with my goings-on and he’ll let you know what I’m up to.

So, please don’t forget me! I certainly won’t forget you and I hope you’ll all still be around when I get back. I’m missing you already! xxx

Always the bridesmaid!

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Hey, it's Sunday Scribbling time again! Today we have a one word prompt and it's ADULT!

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Over the last few years I’ve been to lots of weddings. So many of my mates and cousins have got themselves spliced. Then they seem to go from being fun loving party animals to rather dull couples who enjoy nothing more than a night in beside the telly with a nice cup of tea.

I have of course,become an expert in the duties of the Bridesmaid and the (wait for it) Matron of Honour! Me a matron! Wooo!

And I every time I perform my role my Father says the same thing ‘Miss Rosemary Pinkerton, always the bridesmaid never the bride’. Grrrrrrr!

Most of the nuptials take place in damp dark grey walled churches where a bored looking vicar spouts the usual stuff about obeying and procreating children. And almost without fail a nervous friend of the couple will go to lectern and read a piece from the bible – a book they have probably never seen since they were in RE classes at school!

And it’s always the same bit – Corinthians Chapter 13 which goes on like ‘love is patient, love is kind, is not jealousies, not pompous, it is not inflated (beg pardon?) it is not rude (he-he!)

But the bit that makes me want to stamp my size eight on the floor is the bit which says’ When I was a child, I used to talk as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; when I became a man, I put aside childish things’.

Obviously I’m not a man, but it’s not that makes me cross. You see, the thing is I still like to talk as a child as many of you are only too aware! I have no intention of putting away childish things - my Teddy stays exactly where it is!. And when faced with a problem I find it much easier to work through it if I reason like a child. I have no problem with being a child and an adult at the same time. And ok, I admit it - I still suck my thumb when I go to bed. If all that has to go, then marriage 'aint for me!

You always hear people saying ‘Ooo, I love children’. But how often do you hear someone say ‘Ooo I love adults’. It’s just not the same.

As many of you know I enjoy the best of both worlds because I landed the best job in the universe. I’m a classroom assistant to a teacher with a class of seven and eight year olds and I spend my days at play whilst getting paid for it.

When I’m shopping I see many of the kids from my class in the mall and so often they are dressed like mini adults. If only they realised how precious the innocence of childhood is, they wouldn’t be in such a rush to leave it behind. I rest my case!

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This is a bit rude ......sorry!

George and Mary had never been abroad before. They didn’t trust foreigners, and they heard that the food in other countries was different from ours. They didn’t mind the odd Indian curry, but they really preferred English things like fish and chips and sausage and mash. They weren’t sure how they’d get on with the language either but someone told them not to worry because in Spain everyone spoke English. So when they decided to be adventurous, the Costa del Sol it was. Viva Espana!
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They soon found out that almost every restaurant in their resort offered English food - the all-day breakfast fry up and Steak and kidney pie appeared on almost every menu. But one day George decided that they should be a little more adventurous so they wandered into a Spanish restaurant in search of something a little more local.

The menu was written in two languages but even in his native tongue George found it a little difficult to work out quite what was on offer, so when the waiter approached they thought it best to ask for his recommendation.
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‘¡Buenas noches!’ he said with a flourish of his arms ‘iu‘nuestra comida especial es hoy guisado de la bola' He could tell by the look on Mary’s face that he was not getting through to them. He started again. ‘Good evening madam and sir’ he said ‘today spezial deesh eeze guisado de la bola’
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Rather than get into a difficult conversation with the waiter they decided to order two of the special dishes.

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Well, they were pleasantly surprised. They were each given a thick stew with two enormous meatballs in the bottom. It was delicious although there was a little more than Mary could manage. They asked the waiter to tell them what exactly the meatballs were and through by using a combination of ‘Spanglish’ and hand signals (some which embarrassed Mary) he explained that when the matadors killed the bulls at the local bull ring the unfortunate animals testicles where supplied to the restaurant to use in their special dish.
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Anyway, the day before George and Mary were due to return to the UK they thought it would be fun to go back to the restaurant and order two more portions of guisado de la bola. But when it arrived they were a little disappointed. Instead of two enormous meat balls in each there were two tiny ones. George called the waiter over and asked why it was different from the last time they had it
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‘Ah señor’ he said ‘Today ze unfortunate matador he lost’

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Now you are probably wondering why I told you that story! Well, it’s because I came across a great recipe for this under rated and very cheap cut of meat . It's a Spanish twist on Hungarian goulash and I thought I’d share it with you!

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cocido húngaro del testículo

2-3 tablespoons vegetable oil
4kg of bull testicles
2-3 onions chopped
A beef stock cube
1 clove garlic crushed
ground pepper
thyme chopped
mint herb chopped
small can tomato puree
salt
1 tbsp plain flour
200ml Spanish white wine
1 tablespoon honey
2 squares cooking chocolate

Cut testicles into thin slices. Fry briefly, adding finely chopped onion, garlic, black ground pepper, tomato puree and chilli pepper. Cook while gradually adding water. When nearly finished, add white wine. When wine evaporates a bit, add beef stock cube, pepper, thyme, red pepper, mint herb and a tablespoon of flour. Mix all well until wine completely evaporates and at the very end add honey and chocolate.

Serve with crusty bread and a bottle of Rioja!

My dinner party

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Here is my Sunday Scribblings post. It's about a fantasy dinner party

Now this is fun! I’m going to hold a pretend dinner party for eight people including me. I’m going to have a mixture of people including a couple of dead ones! Obviously I don’t want corpses sitting there. I’ll get a few batteries to make sure they get going! I think it will be a good idea to chose people who each have a talent which they can use to entertain us.

I’m sure if Keithy has started reading this he’ll be busily scanning down the page to see if he’s invited! Well, I’ve not decided yet. We’ll see how we get on..

Did I tell you I’ve got a karaoke machine? I love it although I’m not so sure my neighbours share my enthusiasm! I reckon a couple of songs would be just the thing to get the party going, and the best person to kick it off would be Luciano Pavarotti! Actually he’ll probably need more than a couple of Duracell's to get him fired up. I might have to plug him into the wall! I think he should start with Nessan Dorma. Keith once tried to tell me that it was a song about the Loch Ness monster! Another time he told me it was about a new Japanese car. But I know exactly what it’s about because Nessan Dorma means ‘you shall not sleep’ in Italian. So I think that’ll be the perfect tune to set the theme of the evening. As he is Italian he probably likes spaghetti and meatballs so I’ll put those on the menu .

I could take the easy route and just invite my blogging mates, but I’m not going to do that. The only one I might bring along is Whitesnake. Actually I might have to warn him to behave himself. He can be a bit rude at times. Hey, did you see his Carry On Tuesday poem last week? I was so embarrassed when I read it. You can click here to see it if you want but it’s not for the easily offended! I’ll put him in charge of jokes and witty remarks and just hope he behaves himself. Now, he comes from down under so I’d better get some kangaroo meat.


We need a thespian. I love that word. Thespian! I think I’ll invite Johnny Depp. I’ll insist he comes dressed in his pirate fancy dress from his films. I want him to have a parrot on his shoulder and a hook in the place of one hand! What food can he eat with a hook? I know - sausages! I’ll get him to stand up and recite Shakespeare ‘What's in a name? That which we call Rosey by any other name would smell as sweet’.




Do you think the Queen would come? Last year I went to her garden party at Buckingham Palace so I suppose it’s only polite to ask her in return. I know she likes cucumber sandwiches and fairy cakes because that’s what she gave us but I don’t they would be right at my dinner party. There is a dessert called Queen of Puddings, so we could have that.



Now there’s one person you won’t have heard of. He’s Jeremy Dawson and we know him from the pub. He is a children’s entertainer and does amazing things with his balloons! He also paints kids faces and I thought it would be fun if he were to paint ours. I’d like to look like a cat. Quite what he’d do to the Queen I don’t know! His party piece is to produce a rabbit from down his trousers. Actually he’d probably like us to have some of my famous rabbit pie!


I thought I’d also invite Alice. You know, that pretty little girl with the looking glass who comes from Wonderland. She must have some amazing stories to tell. She should feel quite at home sitting at the table with us because I remember seeing a film of her at the Mad Hatters tea party. As she’s a child she’ll probably want a McDonald's.

Do you remember me telling you about Bert? He’s got the allotment next to mine and he has grown the most amazing vegetables this summer. Mine haven’t really got going yet. The other day he had in his hand the biggest carrot I’ve ever seen! It made my eyes water! His curly kale is legendary and as for his cucumbers – words fail me. I don’t think he’ll be a bundle of laughs at my dinner party but if I invite him I should get my vegetables for nothing. I suppose he could have half an hour of so answering our gardening questions. I understand the Queen is quite an expert in the cultivation of radishes. At least I think that’s what I heard.


How are we doing? We’ve got Pavarotti, Whitesnake, Johnny Depp, The Queen, Jeremy the balloon man, Alice , Bert and me. Great. That’s eight of us. Any minute now my phone
will ring and it’ll e Keithy asking why he’s not invited! I have an idea. He used to be a chef so I’ll get him to cook for us! Sorted.


Now this is going to be fun!

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