It all began when the buyer, new to the job, went out to the nectarine farms. His inexperience was quickly detected by the evil nectarine farmers who had barns filled with dud fruit. They’re not ripe, they’ll never be ripe. But the buyer didn’t know that. He’ll take the lot, please. Here’s the fat cheque – put them on the back of the lorries.
Once back at the warehouse, the managers were aghast: money down the drain – we can’t sell unripe nectarines. In this terrible financial climate as well. We’re for the chop once Mr Woolworth hears of this. If only there was some way out. But there isn’t.
It’s brilliant. And we’ll put “KEEP REFRIGERATED” on them right underneath the bit where we say “will ripen in 2-3 days at room temperature”. Confusion will reign. And before anyone knows what’s going on, we’ll have sold the whole lot and the customers will only have themselves to blame for believing us and keeping them in the fridge. Or not keeping them in the fridge. Whatever. It’s a win-win situation. Unless they want to eat the nectarines. Which they won’t, because they’ll never get ripe.
…is that it’s just about impossible for anything to be misinterpreted or misconstrued. This in turn means that no-one gets offended, no names get called and no allegations are levelled. This in turn means that everyone is happy. And that is good.
I don’t usually play around with my photos on the computer “post processing”. As far as I’m concerned, once they’re taken, they’re taken: I don’t have the software, the time or the inclination to mess around with them. That’s something else to learn and I haven’t even learnt how to take photographs yet.
However, I just poked this one of Alex’s Winnie the Pooh sprinkler a bit and I quite like the results. I think that this is one of those photographs that is best viewed large and you can do that here.
There now. That wasn’t so controversial, now was it?
That’s a complete lie. It rained all day today and it also rained a bit yesterday, even though the sun was shining at the same time. Apparently, in the UK this is known as a “sunshower”, although I’ve never heard that expression. Still, I only lived there for 30-odd years. In Cape Town, where the weather is just plain weird, this sort of thing happens far more often. It happened yesterday and I photographised it.
I have been told that the phenomenon is known as a “Monkey’s Wedding”. However, I have never dared use that phrase, just in case it was one of those Old Skool racist things that were “perfectly acceptable” to use “back in the day”, but that one – quite rightly – can’t say now.
However, having done a bit of research (ie.I googled it), I have discovered that the phrase comes, in fact, from the isiZulu umshado wezinkawu , meaning (perhaps unsurprisingly) “A wedding for monkeys”. There is no further explanation as to why this is the case. However, it would seem that I am safely able to use the phrase from now on without fear of prosecution.
There’s also an Afrikaans version, which Wikipedia tells me is jakkelstrou or “Jackal’s Wedding”. This, it seems comes from the dainty little rhyming couplet:
Jakkals trou met wolf se vrou, As dit reen en die son skyn flou.
Which actually makes perfect sense, because I did notice that there was a jackal in the back garden who seemed intent on marrying the wolf’s wife while the rain fell and the sun shone faintly. With hindsight, that probably would have made a more interesting photo than the one above.
I’ll try to remember that for next time it happens. Sorry.
Kids go through stages with regard to their relationship with their parents. Sometimes you can see obvious reasons why this might be; for example, when K-pu was born and had to spend a lot of time with Mum (because she’s the one with the boobs), Alex became firmly (often rather too firmly) attached to me. His rampant favouritism, caused by obvious and understandable insecurity, has worn off now though and we generally gauge who is flavour of the moment by his requests for bedtime story readers (Mum/Dad/Neither).
Perhaps it’s because she’s female (and therefore fussy), but K-pu has a very strict hierarchical list of favourites. I guess I should be flattered to be in second place and I have to remember that when Mum walks in and K-pu suddenly shows a complete lack of interest in me, it’s only the same as she does to other people below second place when she sees me. (It’s still quite hurtful though).
This picture was taken while we were away last weekend. Mum had popped up the road to pick up the boy from the Kid’s Club and K-pu – outraged to have been left with only her dad for company – went and planted herself firmly by the front door and sulked until her mother returned.