Bleachie Blog
September 12, 2004. My friend Arthur.
September 14, 2004. Rest and Relaxation.
September 30, 2004. A Postcard from
Heidelberg.
Yesterday I had arrived in Canada after I made a trip to Germany. Tomorrow I head back home to Great Britain. The reason for my trip to Germany was because I had been requested to help. Last Friday I arrived in the beautiful town of Heidelberg. I gazed around at my surroundings and the beauty just stunned me. I inhaled the fresh air. After taking it all in, I asked Sterling to roll up my sleeves up (I was ready for work).
Was a child stuck in a well? Had disease struck down the good folk of the town? As the Mayor led me down to the river, I noticed a group of citizens trying to push and pull a very large, spotted Moo out. The river was up to the Moo's neck and they needed my expertise. They needed my mathematical insight on the theories of leverage. "Sterling!" I cried out, "Go to the local boutique and purchase me a wooden plank! Chop, chop! Oh and make sure it is silver edged." I Looked to the local Butcher 'Oolong' and told him to fetch me a chainsaw, a bow and arrow, and a handful of clover.
After an hour of painstaking work to yank this moo from the river, she finally came out. Immediately a voice boomed out from behind me "AH MEEELK!" And immediately the town's official clown placed a cup under the cow and began yanking on the nipples. Sterling, my driver whispered to me that he swears he heard the clown yanking the nipples to the tune of "Jingle Bells".
After we completed our task, the mayor and a few of the town officials and I had a posh dinner and the next day we left Heidelberg and Sterling and We visited Europe.
I sat in my big fluffy chair today, smoking a cigar. I love sitting in that chair wearing my robe when the sun comes up. White wine by my chair. I prefer white wine over red.
Sterling, my butler knocked on the oak doors which open to the office where I was sitting on the fluffy chair. He informed me about a school in Germany who are in need of some help. I asked Sterling to look at my scheduler. He informed me that I have an open day this upcoming Thursday. So, Thursday, my jet gets loaded up and I am off to Germany to see first hand what I can do to help.
Are children there toothless? Will I be chewing their food for them? Are the children cold? Will I have to knit them warm underwear? I cannot wait to find out. As soon as I do, I shall inform you, my dear readers.
I spend many a day thinking of years past. I know that my entries in this diary of sorts do not mean very much to the majority of readers, but they are my memories and I myself, personally look upon them with fondness. My following entry is about a friend of mine. Now most of you may not care but as I have spent some time on the Chess the Cat website, I noticed a certain "sports fanatic", who may find this memory sort of interesting.
As I spent some time in Canada back in oh, 1893, I spent many a day with a friend of mine named Arthur. Arthur had been assigned to Canada on business. As I spent more time with Arthur, he had showed me a game. Two opposing teams would face each other on ice and try to score a "puck" into the opposing team's "net", using special sticks made from branches.
Today most of the world knows this game as hockey, but back then it was a different story. The game in theory was simple, and judging by Arthur's love of this game, he was addicted. I found the game amusing but I would not trade my Diogenes club membership for it.
I remember playing against my friend Arthur, I was in "net". Arthur was skating full speed towards me, pulled back his stick, and hit the "puck" with all of his might (the puck, which was actually a cow knee-cap, we had taken from farmer George's cow who had taken ill and passed away) flew toward me, hitting me right between the eyes. "Bloody Hell" I cried. Any other man would have hit the ground and cried in agony, but since I am a regal skeleton, I did not cry in pain. But my skull flew off and landed on little Katey Muir's sled. Katey's reaction was priceless. I stared up at her, blinked and, oh this is funny, I said to her "Hello little Katey Muir, would you happen to know what time it is?" Katey wrinkled her face, screamed for her mommy and ran away. Arthur and everybody on both teams had broken down laughing like we had never laughed before, "Jolly funny", I yelled over to Arthur. "Now help me put my head back on".
Later that year Arthur and I decided to purchase a trophy and donate it to the game of hockey, basically to promote the game. Our time in Canada was finally up and my friend Arthur and I, and the rest of the Stanley family sailed back to England. While in England, we had a few months of snow. Some members of the Royal Family, the Stanley's, and I decided to play some hockey against each other.
"When you take a shot, you roll the dice".
These were the words of my bushman companion, Adisa (who taught me everything I know about hunting) just before we set out on our trip to bag our first lion. July 5, 1934, in a remote area near Ethiopia. We left our vehicle and began walking through the thick grass. The sun was shining very intensely onto my head. Luckily my Bushman Safari Hat saved my skull from being entirely scorched. Rifle in hand Adisa and I crouched through the grass and shrub. Evening was falling but we were determined to go back to camp with our prize.
Suddenly, no more than 6 metres ahead of us, we heard the grass rustling. If I had nerve endings, I would have had chills running up my spine. Forget nerve endings, if I had a spine I would have had chills running along it.
Adisa and I fell flat on our chests and steadied our guns in the direction of the rustling. At this point it was quite dark and we noticed two red glows facing us from the direction of the movement. They must have been eyes. The rustling became stronger and the grass seemed like it was running toward us. Two metres ahead of us a shape lunged through the grass and an enormous squeal rung through our ears. Without any time to think I steadied my gun and pulled the trigger. The squeal turned into a gurgle of sorts. I had to wipe sweat from my brow.
As we looked at our prize lion we knew something was off. To our surprise we had bagged a Potamochoerus Porcus. Adisa looked at me and I at him, with smiles over our faces, I tipped my hat to him, "Cheerio" I said to the boy "Good Show". He too realized we would feast on our grand catch tonight and he replied with a, "GOOHD Shuh". But not without a price to pay. Blood had sprayed everywhere from the high flying squealer, including my white shiny bones.
Quickly we set up a temporary camp. Lit a fire, pulled the plates out from Adisa's lips and we ate like kings that night.
After I had finished my meal I lay on my back, with a piece of grass hanging from my mouth, I thought to myself our prize may not have been a lion, but there is always another day.