It's my blog

Keep thy commentary angst to thyself

It was with amusement that I read a comment posted to my blog yesterday about Samuel Windsor closing down which we later learnt would be reopening under new ownership soon.

The curmudgeon who probably has too much time on their hands and very little to do apart from giving vent to their unremarkable lives by posting comments on forums to elicit argument, rancour, and animus went on a rant about my mentioning Brian twice on the blog and how we have shared getting shoes and clothes from Samuel Windsor.

Why that bothered them, I cannot tell, and indeed, Brian is my boyfriend as they deduced before going on about whatever they thought might be going on between us before taking issue about my not keeping the matter of Brian private.

Hello, it’s my blog, not yours

Maybe we should address a number of issues, for this blog might not be necessary, yet some things need to be said just to clear the air. I have it on good authority that is my blog, my space, my journal, and where I choose to express myself in whatever way I desire. On my blog, I write about myself, who I am, my relationships, my ideas, offer opinions and perspectives, debate issues and support causes.

That my blog is public, means I invite commentary, but that does not mean all commenters have carte blanche to write any nonsense on my blog. All comments are moderated, many highlighted and published in blogs, so they are not lost to my readers. Many other comments are spam, people looking to push their wares on my blog without permission. As my blog is not commercial, I do not promote anything herein apart from when I am reviewing stuff.

One exclusive right I have on my blog is I can choose what to publish and what not to publish, I cannot edit the comments, so, if they do not follow decent and topical rules of engagement, I delete them. As some people do not bother to include a name or a Blogger profile when they post comments, I have no way of asking them to review their comments.

The cultured are cultivated

This blog is now in its 19^th year, which is quite longstanding in web history, I enjoy writing and engaging with people who can begin and maintain polite conversation. I make no apology for what I choose to do on my blog and really if you have issues with anything I have written, but cannot find the niceties of decorum in your repertoire of breeding, then my advice to you is to write a rejoinder on your own blog because your odious views would get no airing here.

It’s my blog after all and that is not negotiable, to the many who have in all decency and consideration found my blog interesting, engaging, and probably funny, Thank you for your readership.

To those unaware of what it takes to comment on my blog, I refer you to the Comment advisory and guidelines of my blog.

Thought Picnic: Stuck on the absence of desire

On a funny compass

The surfeit of blogs might deceptively suggest a liberal ability to express one’s feelings or find the form of words to capture some thought process succinctly, yet many should be careful that expression might also be concealment. A means of distracting attention from other issues that the principal is struggling with, just as it is easy to forget the humanity and vulnerability of people who appear to have mastered the art of communication.

Lately, I have found myself unable to express myself in a way that I should freely be able to, given the time, the place and the opportunity. The opportunity has been dictated by situations completely outside my control. Demands and requests are being made of me that I cannot find the will or the urge to fulfil.

Trying to get unstuck

At a point, one feels literally clogged up with no outlet to ease tension or frustration, it is not for the want of desire or passion, it seems one has been exhausted by a form of separation anxiety that has been difficult to remediate. Anyone else might think there is a simple fix, it is not working for me, and I am somewhat worried by its effect on another.

God knows I have been trying to rekindle that thing, if there was some emotional jumpstart, I might even try it. What will not do it is the sudden, the deliberate, the demanding, or the invasion. I hope I get out of my funk soon enough time. Besides that, and what is going on in my head and affecting my body in ways I cannot describe to any satisfaction, the heart is still glowing with the happiness and joy that presence brings. Bear with me even if everything cannot be understood at this time.

Cupping coffee

Quite early for a drink

I found myself asking, where are our cocktails? Surely, they are not being made in heaven and needing a prayer of faith with the miracle of changing water into wine, just at our tables. Soon, they arrived without the need for a prayer on our lips, our yearning and expectations met as the ice entombed slices of lime and lemon in the glass.

Blood orange juice, gin, Cointreau, chilled prosecco and lime came to Alcoholic named as Blood orange French and Pom fizz which was lighter on the palate with pomegranate juice and chilled prosecco was served to Anonymous.

Stirring much curiosity

He puts a teaspoon of sugar in his flat white cup of coffee, the cup having no handles that he has to cup it between his hands as a warmer to take a drink. I could not decide after he put the sugar in his coffee if he was stirring or doodling, but soon after he did have to stir in the sugar, so, my first observation about doodling was right.

Apparently, she looks like a Karen. Pray, what is a Karen look? Surely not Donna Karan. Now, the waiter or waitron as they are apparently known on the menus in Cape Town has noticed I am taking notes, he thinks I am writing reviews of the food and probably describing something, not to my liking, which I am not at this time. What have I been writing about?

No one takes AMEX

So far, I have written nothing about our meals, our choices were good and tasty. We were at Hemelhuijs or Heaven’s house, the U appears as a V on the building sign, I guess we’ll touch the subject of meals another time.

When paying, the invoice said only Mastercard or Visa accepted, it made for a good joke to the waitron when I told of our visit to Simon’s Restaurant at Groot Constantia, the bill came in an American Express folder emblazoned with the by-line, the best way to pay is with your AMEX, but the bill strictly noted, only Mastercard and Visa were acceptable. Funny and ironic at the same time. All the waitrons agreed.

Coronavirus streets on my mind - LII

On the advent of the pandemic

In a way, I want to reflect on my experience of this Coronavirus pandemic; it has been troubling, difficult, and long. If I dwelt on the incompetence of my government that has marshalled and shepherded a death rate still unrivalled amongst its peers in Europe, I would find myself a misfit amongst other things, but I have to think for myself and those in my immediate community.

When the pandemic started, I was first classed in the highly vulnerable cohort and required to shield, but the British HIV Association came out with an update advising that those of us with an undetectable viral load and a CD4 cell count above 250, should not need to shield.

That did not make me any less vulnerable as anyone with HIV is immunosuppressed to a degree, we still need to continue our medication regimes and attend our scheduled check-ups. I had returned from South Africa by mid-January 2020 and within 2 weeks I was down with a water infection that required an albeit short hospital admission and weeks of weakness that took a while to recuperate from.

The choices that chilled

If that illness had happened in April, I would have been asked to stay at home and hope for the best when intravenous antibiotics and two sessions of electrolytes would have been needed to get me back to normal. The thought that doctors had unilaterally placed Do Not Resuscitate on a whole swathe of vulnerable patients on their register to apparently save the NHS sent a chill down my spine.

Blog - Thought Picnic: From chills to thrills in health updates

I for one kept isolated as much as I could, wore a face mask everywhere, avoided crowds and enclosed places. I even took to walking exercises as I longed for the opportunity to return to South Africa to be with Brian and that was not until mid-December. If I had not left in the week that I did, I would have been caught by the lockdown in the UK that fuelled another wave of infections and deaths.

Personal precautions, all the time

In South Africa, we had a lockdown too, with a curfew and an alcohol ban, though we could not visit the beach, we could the parks and botanical gardens which we took advantage of. Everywhere we went, we had to don facemasks, had our temperature taken, sanitise our hands and leave our contact details for track and trace purposes. There was a variant on the loose, but we were not careless about our health and welfare.

The only time we ended up in anything like a crowd was when we had to take fitness to travel PCR tests, for at that time, only one laboratory offered reliable tests accepted for travel purposes. This was before there was a vaccine and when we had not yet been offered the option to take it.

On return to the UK, I had to self-isolate at home for 10 days, but I was invited on the 5^th day for a test that proved negative and so earned an early release from my isolation. All the while, I was working from home and doing my best to thrive, despite the circumstances.

Every measure for safe living

Through this year, I had my first Pfizer jab in the last week of February, the Delta variant turned into a community threat from April into May, requiring another lockdown and in the first week of May, I got my second Pfizer jab. Much as we planned for another rendezvous in South Africa, it was beginning to look like we might not meet until the end of the year.

I had my hospital consultations for HIV in April and October, my annual flu jab and then took my third Pfizer jab or the booster shot in the second week of November. From October, we had decided December was the earliest we could meet again, and I put in my plans for holiday for the whole of December and the first two weeks of January. I would suppose I was granted the time compassionately with respect to my circumstances and the agency has provided a stand-in for the time that I am away.

Much as we are vaccinated, we are not throwing caution to the winds, as the same precautions we observed last year when there was no vaccine, we have observed diligently even as many we see on the streets seem to care nothing about the pandemic that has hardly gone away.

Calm in the face of turmoil

Just a week before my departure from England, South Africa and neighbouring southern African countries were placed on the red list that required any returnees to the UK to take up exorbitant hotel quarantine for 11 nights regardless of vaccination status, it could have scuppered our plans, but as my absence would be for 6 weeks and we were still learning about the Omicron variant, I felt that things would change during that period. I had to field many enquiries about my plans, but I remained calm and sanguine.

I changed nothing about my plans and flew out on the 3^rd of December, I am glad to note that the red list has been completely depleted from this morning and it is my hope that no radical changes occur for the rest of my sojourn here. Despite what the governments in many countries think they should be doing regarding this pandemic; I think they should be giving us advice and full information about the state of the pandemic.

Not getting too smart about it

However, I think it is now down to personal responsibility to take the utmost and particular attention to one’s health, to get vaccinated, to take precautions, and to navigate out Coronavirus streets with moderation, common sense and every safety measure to avoid contracting this virus.

Much as I cannot understand the inclination for vaccine hesitancy from the unlearned, talk less of those in the health services, I can only wonder how they expect to fight a virus with a naïve immune system, but each to their own, I know, I need vaccines against many things and some I cannot take like the yellow fever vaccine because it has a life though attenuated virus.

We are making the best of the time we have together and that is also for our health, our wellbeing and most importantly, our mental health too.

Blog - Quarantined in my self-isolation

Essential Snobbery 101: A few whines on wines

The first in the land

We were at Groot Constantia, the oldest wine estate in South Africa established in 1685 when it was built by Simon van der Stel, the first Governor of the Dutch Cape Colony. As we arrived after the restaurants had closed to serving breakfast even though it was well before noon, the prospect for a lunch did not appeal to me and nothing on the menu looked like brunch.

We both had a glass of Groot Constantia Method Cap Classique Brut Rosé, the Méthode Cap Classique (MCC) is the equivalent of sparkling wine from the Champagne region of France, but it cannot be called Champagne outside France.

Sniffing and tasting

Now, whilst I appreciate the work that goes into winemaking, one needs to be excused from the snobbery of liking wine by consensus when one does not find the wine to one’s taste and we have poured a lot more down a spittoon than drank of the wines we have tasted at many wine estates.

Of the five wines that I got to taste, there is not much of the superfluity of the oenophile in my description, it either worked for me or it did not. I suppose my nose is not as attuned to perceiving distinctive aromas as my palate might not be as sensitive as that of a Komodo lizard either.

Groot Constantia Rosé 2020

After the first sip, we found ourselves craving the proximity of a spittoon, for we were not enamoured, the Rosé was pale to a brownish hue and there was no lingering aftertaste. Forgettable was almost too effusive in praising the wine. Yes, it has won prizes, nonetheless not with us.

Groot Constantia Gouverneurs Reserve White 2018

The bouquet was fresh, and it touched the nose delicately. The first taste was good with a hint of elderflower, though I could not say this feeling would endure. Whilst it was vaunted as a flagship wine, for me, the ship has sunk, and all hands lost.

Groot Constantia Merlot 2018

In the glass, this presented long tears, it has been crying for a long time in French oak barrels for 18 months for maturation and distinction. A slight fruitiness, I perceived with a beautiful palate, though I felt it might need decanting to give my tongue the full experience.

Groot Constantia Gouverneurs Reserve 2018

I saw a full dark colour with a strong bouquet. Good enduring taste that was quite thick on my palate. Definitely one for meats and strong flavours. I could buy this, but not today. Best in class, they say, but who’s attending?

Groot Constantia Cape Ruby 2018

Cape Ruby is the designation for port wines in South Africa. This was sweeter and fruitier than what you get with Tawny port. I felt it did not have that strong port provenance that challenges the occasional aftertaste of a Stilton cheese. This would not do; I have to look elsewhere.

Bowling toffee

Standups at dawn

In the mornings, nature compels a situation over which many would not have any control but to endure as a part of life experience that might be shared with another if the occasion presents. What it represents and it portends can be expressed in various ways not demanding much detail except where one is aiming for some kind of competitive prize.

Be it one where pleasure or excitement replaces the awakening moments of the rising of the sun, there is a lot of warmth and love to live in and embrace. Companionship accords a mystery that can defeat the best of those who can string together words in ways that astound.

To dip and usurp

Yet, at the rising of that star in the east is the rising from slumber and rising to perform as bowls to different deployments can be touched in the course of the day, from what nature frequently demands, to that which nature requires for sustenance and the many sports where bowls and bowling give us a spectacle of nature to revel in.

To the few that are given the gift to know that bowls can be touched like being called to a priesthood of the anointed and endowed, the bats you have been given for the game of life and the way you wield them in winning your games can only be cause for envy even as you can be proud of who you are. You wonder if there are repeating daily rituals that have been missed by the less observant.

Blogs - Bowling coffee

To bread, it is, just express yourself without bounds

A bread to realise

There are many liberation struggles going on around the world, but there is one I was not aware of until yesterday evening, the liberation of the loaf is the battle cry of bread and the art of baking what the United Artists for Africa mistakenly suggested was God turning stones to bread because that never happened.

Having bought takeaway Togolese beans (èwà Àgànyìn), which is mashed black-eyed beans with a red chilli sauce, the only adequate staple to go with it is Agége bread (a soft, dense loaf of bread), which I soon learnt, I could not get anywhere in Cape Town that I decided to bake my own.

All pans run free

Asking Alexa to find a recipe on YouTube was a waste of time even with my putting on a thick Nigerian accent as it offered either Gigi or Gay for Agege, it was just better to type it in. Having gotten a good idea of what to do, I acquired the ingredients and utensils and set to baking bread, my very first time.

After all I had done, one thing was missing, a lid for my loaf pan. Apparently, you can get every choice loaf pan for baking bread, in any material you might desire including silicone that takes heat up to 230℃, but you cannot get for the want of trying in stores, specialist outlets, or online, a loaf pan with a cover or a lid.

Perseverance in lack

Then, I improvised, I wrapped the loaf pan in heavy-duty foil, which kept the loaf in shape, but I had to have it baking in the oven for thrice the recommended time because the heat was not getting to the loaf as it would have if there were just a lid. You have to ask, what happened to loaf pan lids or why no one around here seems to desire to bake bread with the loaf liberally expressing itself beyond the mould?

Then again, what I might not get on the retail market most definitely is in the professional bakeries, because typical bread for toast is moulded in an almost square cross-section to a rectangular length. I might have an alternative, using disposable aluminium food trays with cardboard covers. It might suffice until I accidentally find a loaf pan that invited a lid companion to the party, else, it is to England where the freedom of the loaf is still a subject of debate rather than of right.

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