You know, I like to do a bit of writing more often than not if only to get my own ideas in proper shape. I’m not a good speaker; the hmms and haws when I talk are caused by my lack of rapidity of finding the adequate word that I want to use in order to explain precisely the thoughts in my head. I don’t quite know why I want these thoughts to be written down but I had good reasons for the three books that I wrote. “Sink The Birkenhead” is a story that took me from 1958 to 2005 in order to accumulate the knowledge that an outstanding black Xhosa Chief had sunk a Royal Naval vessel. I found this such an extra-ordinary fact in Africa’s history that I wanted it to get known and the only way to do this was to put the story into a published book.  But I had never written a book before and in order to get an idea how to go about such a task, I wrote a small book about winemaking about which I know quite a lot.I became my own apprentice while trying to explain things as precisely as I knew how, with the least amount of words.

When these books had been achieved and self published I wrote “Ocean Advocate” which is more or less a recipe how to stop the slaughter that is practiced by fishing boats all over the oceans. The book is the result of an idea that I’ve had for the last thirty years at least but I never managed to make enough money to put this idea into practice, as it needed a bit more than a million dollars. Since then I haven’t written any more books as I seem only to be able to write about things that I really know but not all things that I know are worth writing about. I mean I know how to make wooden masts from trees for a sailing ship or how to make furniture where the assembled pieces of wood are true to a 1/50 or 1/100 millimetre but it would be a boring story would I write a book about that.

Writing about the events that happen around us are not very inspiring either, big stories about poofters or lesbians that ought to get some government ticket to show that they are officially spliced are too ridiculous for words. Lesbians I can still understand, not wanting to have anything to do with blokes makes sense to me in a world of depraved bastards but I hate to think what poofters are up sexually when by themselves and to organise clubs or festivals to celebrate their poofterism disgusts me. They should be discreet and certainly are not worth writing about.

Some happenings fall into the tragic-comic range like Mr. Mandela’s responding to treatment. Soon he might respond so well as to be alive again. Almost a year ago I proclaimed the ex-president to be dead despite the governments declarations of his aliveness. After all, a planeload of doctors had gone to visit him in his house in Xhosaland. This plane on its return flight crashed 3000 feet up in the Drakensberg Mountains with the doctors and everyone stone dead. Miraculously, the next day Mr. Mandela pitches up in a hospital in Pretoria, not the better military hospital because that one does not function at all anymore. Total mystery how he got there. Then, for months he responds to treatment without the old man uttering a word. The present president of our republic cruelly has him dragged in front of the telly cameras where he sits like a wilted salad to glorify Zuma, the usurper. Back at his Joburg home he has to return to the hospital once more but the ambulance breaks down and dear old Madiba waits for four hours by the roadside. He responds so well to treatment that once more he is allowed to go to his home that has been changed into an intensive care unit. Two days later, Mr. Mandela’s black brothers in Joburg go on strike and the old man’s ICU is without electricity, so far without fatal results. Never mind, once more the old Robben Island warrior is responding to treatment (which one?) and may be he even might start talking one of these days if no further mishaps occur, caused by idiots in a government that took him 27 years in jail to sponsor.

You should not think that such rocambolesque happenings are only possible in a country with a black government. The whiteys, all over the world are outperforming Africa’s doings daily.

German Mrs. Merkel is a fine example of white idiocy. When Japan’s nuclear power stations went for a loop the cause was not difficult to find as the things were built on a functioning volcano. Yet, in order to be shown green and liked by lots of germans, dame Merkel ordered all german nuclear power stations to be shut down, Asap. Germany sits on very stable seismic territory; there was no need at all for such a decision. Today I read in the ‘Spiegel’ that german electricity is the most expensive on earth, that wind turbines that have been built in the North Sea can’t function because the cable uniting them to the land had been forgotten.

Bad workmanship on a grand scale becomes more visible every day. It is high time that the notion of apprenticeships should be re-employed. Engines fall of Aussi planes, a Canadian train explodes in a village because brakes are not tested, no one knows how gas killed a lot of people in Syria, what’s the diff in any case, lead or gas?

In the meantime politicians are spending more and more stolen money from their citizens while reducing their expenses but scheming how to send democratic missiles into the bedroom of Syria’s dictator. The fact that Russia’s Putin is not very keen on that idea seems to diminish the courage of these wide open mouthed vain politicians who can’t get the idea that the whole Islamic middle east should be left alone. Just buy their oil, in a few years even that might not be necessary anymore, we might then get it from the US or New Zealand.

A last titbit of almost local news is that the Queen of England bypassed the South African stand on the prestigious Chelsea Flower Show in London. For the last many years our country has won many prizes there because of the excellent people from the botanical gardens and the richness of our flora. This year the management of our team had changed and the manager was found happily inebriated stretched out amongst his flowers. Was the queen not amused?

I can’t tell you more about this manager lest I befoul this blog with something that is called racism.