tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90136238946686231472024-03-14T08:41:19.197+02:00Bits and PiecesYvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-57370996336688538872012-07-01T11:38:00.000+02:002012-07-01T11:38:16.783+02:00DARE TO DREAM - A New Publication<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Life is an odd mixture of beginnings and endings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 1992, when I decided to follow my husband into retirement, there was one very important fact that I somehow overlooked – a writer never retires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We cogitate, deliberate, ruminate, investigate and contemplate, but the one thing we never do is retire.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>During the ensuing years I wrote three full-length novels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to have them published, but things had changed here in South Africa (Nelson Mandela was released from prison and Apartheid was abolished) and at Mills & Boon there were also quite a few major changes (Alan Boon was no longer there and neither was Frances Whitehead, the editorial consultant with whom I had worked closely over the years).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What had worked for me before was no longer acceptable for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They felt that, amongst other things, the political situation was so sensitive that writing about black domestic servants working in our homes might offend the readers worldwide, and I suspect they had to look at it from a financial point of view as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so, after having 44 books published by Mills & Boon, my manuscripts were rejected.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was at this point in my life that it felt as if the decision to retire was literally taken out of my hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I joined the Women’s Auxiliary and became an active member.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bought myself a new sewing machine and started sewing again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knitting was something else I quite enjoyed and for the past ten years I have managed to have about sixteen jerseys ready to hand over to underprivileged children before each winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Photography has always been a hobby of mine and I love reading.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have managed to keep myself pretty busy with all these activities, but my mind has constantly sought that familiar outlet in writing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I took those three novels and rewrote them several times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was always altering something here or adding something there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have always been my own worst critic, so I was never totally satisfied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told myself that I was doing it for my own pleasure, but now, twenty years after my last book was published, I find that I can’t convince myself of that anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A writer needs to share their work, and there’s no greater satisfaction than knowing others have enjoyed reading what you have enjoyed writing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It became clear to me that it was time to do something about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not that young anymore, so I don’t have time to waste approaching publishers in the hope that they might accept my work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The IN-thing today is publishing your own work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s costly, make no mistake about that, but in the end I am sure that it will be worth it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opted for Traffords Publishers in Bloomington, Indiana, and I am happy to say that my first book “Dare To Dream” is now published and out there to be purchased on line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Traffords guided me through the whole publishing process, offering me the guidance of their editorial staff and their marketing managers, and throughout it all I knew that I had complete control of what was happening to my work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s an incredibly wonderful experience, and also very exciting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now all I have to do is wait and see how it will be received by the public.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Below is the press release of my book:</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 18pt; letter-spacing: -1pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Fiery Romance Ignites in New South African Novel</span></h1>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Popular romance novelist Yvonne Whittal pens latest book, </span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Dare To Dream<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">PORT ELIZABETH, South Africa – In her new romance novel <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dare To Dream </i></b>(<a href="http://www.trafford.com/">published by Trafford Publishing</a>), Yvonne Whittal delivers a story of an unlikely passion and love on a wine farm in South Africa.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Still haunted five years after the death of her husband, Jenna Reeves works long hours as a journalist in Cape Town, South Africa. But the stress catches up to her, and she sets out for her aunt’s cottage on a wine farm for a vacation where she quickly forms and intense attraction to the farm owner, Robert Rousseau. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">An excerpt from <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dare To Dream</i></b>:</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">“My husband is dead! He died five years ago!” </span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">The words had spilled from Jenna’s lips on an anguished cry; it was the first time she had actually said it out aloud. She waited for the pain that she felt certain would follow, but she was surprised to discover that she felt nothing—nothing except a sadness that someone so young and so vital had been robbed of the opportunity to live his life to the fullest. And remarkably, it also felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">The relationship between Jenna and Robert does not run smoothly, mainly because Jenna cannot conform to Robert’s preference for a relationship without ties. They finally walk away from each other, but fate brings them back together again when Jenna is assigned the task of interviewing Robert. Their attraction is reignited stronger than before – now it will take a tragedy to pull them apart.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">About the Author</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Yvonne Whittal is a South African author who has always had a passion for writing. She has had 44 books published by Harlequin Mills & Boon.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Trafford Publishing</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow", "sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">, an Author Solutions, Inc. author services imprint, was the first publisher in the world to offer an “on-demand publishing service,” and has led the independent publishing revolution since its establishment in 1995. Trafford was also one of the earliest publishers to utilize the Internet for selling books. More than 10,000 authors from over 120 countries have utilized Trafford’s experience for self publishing their books. For more information about Trafford Publishing, or to publish your book today, call 1-888-232-4444 or visit<span style="color: #333333;"> </span>trafford.com<span style="color: #333333;">.</span></span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-70701188508573856162012-03-30T11:37:00.001+02:002012-03-30T11:39:10.780+02:00A LONG ABSENCE<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Yes, I am back after a long absence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The past year was not easy for my husband, Vernon, and certainly not for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is only by the grace of God that we have come through it in the way we have, and can find enjoyment in life again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At our age any kind of illness is making us aware of our own mortality, and at the same time it is also making us more aware of this beautiful world we live in, and how fortunate and how blessed we are.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I kept myself busy during this past year with things that I could put down at any time without feeling irritated at being disturbed when I was needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knitted eighteen jerseys for needy children between the ages of two and eight years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are ready at the moment to be distributed before the winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also crocheted a queen-sized blanket for myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a mammoth task, but I’m very proud of myself now that it is finished.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have just recently started writing again, and I might have mentioned before that I was putting together a volume of all the short stories and articles I have written over the years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This started out as a project which was intended solely for my children, but it has developed into something bigger than I had originally imagined.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2le2TcVaTcw/T3V-ItLwEuI/AAAAAAAAAH0/DDXAlv_IO0k/s1600/IMG_0836_sml+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" dea="true" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2le2TcVaTcw/T3V-ItLwEuI/AAAAAAAAAH0/DDXAlv_IO0k/s200/IMG_0836_sml+cropped.jpg" width="159" /></a></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This compilation is partly a personal journey, starting with stories written long before I had anything published through Mills & Boon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are also a few articles written for the Ingagane Live Wire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for those of you who don’t know, Ingagane was an Eskom power station situated about fifteen kilometres to the south of Newcastle, Natal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the start of my writing career I also wrote a few Afrikaans short stories which were published around the same time that my first full-length novel was published.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have also added a story in Afrikaans which was written last year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Added to all this I have made comments at the end of each article or story, giving a little inside information on some of them which the reader might find interesting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I said, it is a personal journey for me, but since there were so many people who indicated that they would like to have a copy of this book, I made a decision to have it nicely printed and bound together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem with a self-publication is that I had to do all the editing myself and, as in this case, a few typing errors did go unnoticed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But who hasn’t read a book with a few printing errors in it?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To print only a limited number of books is a costly procedure, so I am forced to recoup some of my expenses by attaching a price to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So ... if any of my friends and fans out there are interested in procuring a copy, then please get in touch with me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-35404247833496941952011-05-02T00:24:00.003+02:002011-05-02T00:30:53.759+02:00I can dream, can't I?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"> I’m supposed to be a retired author, but I’ve got so many ideas popping into my head that I sometimes think I could write another forty books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At my age, I suppose, it’s not practical to think along these lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, getting published isn’t as easy these days as it used to be – not that it was all that easy in the old days, but you could send along a couple of chapters of your manuscript to a publisher and if they liked what they read they could ask for the complete manuscript and then, if they were willing to take a chance on you, your work was published.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These days you need to find yourself an agent who will then approach a publisher on your behalf, and so everyone gets a slice of the cake, if you know what I mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then there’s the tax man; he needs to get his slice of the cake too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if you don’t want to end up with the crumbs then you need to get yourself a good tax lawyer who will make your relationship with the tax man less painful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The latter, of course, also needs to get his slice of the cake.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Oh, woe is me!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When I was younger I took all these things in my stride, but it all seems so complicated now that I’m not too sure I want to go that way again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Now that’s a very negative thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not basically a negative person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I usually look on the bright side of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I simply expect things to work out alright, and they normally do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When things don’t pan out as I’d hoped I naturally feel the jolt of disappointment, but I get over it and get on with whatever I’m busy with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s the way it is with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s always the hope that one will succeed, that if you reach out for that dream it might become a reality.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s good to dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we let go of our dreams then we have nothing left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dreams are but hopes dressed up in tinsel, and so we hope and we dream and we work at making that dream a reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, yes, it’s good to dream, but it often takes blood, sweat and tears to make your dream come true.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As a young girl I dreamed of becoming a writer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved the written word and I would scribble away at my little stories whenever I had an opportunity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was my secret dream, my secret passion, and for a long time I never told anyone about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in my mid thirties when I first had my work published, and it took a lot of encouragement and persuasion to get me to this point in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was my own worst enemy; I was never satisfied with what I had written.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted it to be perfect; it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>to be perfect, but being a perfectionist can have its drawbacks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These days I am more inclined to write it as I see it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s more important to get the story down on paper and to worry about the grammar afterwards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you hover over every word you could so easily lose the essence of what you want to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned this the hard way, but I don’t have any regrets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We learn by our mistakes, and I’m sure most people can relate to that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And so I’m back where I started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m a retired author.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does an author ever really retire?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m still writing and hoping and dreaming, and whether I venture into publishing, or not, it doesn’t matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find pleasure in what I’m doing and that’s all that really matters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was lucky, once, to have my work published.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If that luck swings my way again, regardless of my age, I shall consider myself fortunate and then, I suppose, none of my initial worries will matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What complex beings we are, but …<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">C’est la vie.</i></span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-40665055910430699072011-04-16T07:02:00.002+02:002011-04-16T07:14:04.651+02:00The Gift of Life<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;">I’m not functioning very well at the moment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband, Vernon, has been in hospital since Tuesday with heart failure and he won’t be coming home until Monday. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This means that, with two trips to the hospital every day, nothing much is happening on the home front, but this is not what I’m thinking about at the moment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m thinking about those two dreadful, frightening words –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Heart failure !</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It means that the heart is failing to function normally.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This incredible piece of human machinery we carry around inside us, this pump that sends a steady flow of life-giving blood to the very extremities of our bodies, is now failing to function as it should.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nkCYeIf5ASY/Takkufi-94I/AAAAAAAAAHo/jK4W3_DRZ6s/s1600/0884+Cross+at+Cape+Recife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nkCYeIf5ASY/Takkufi-94I/AAAAAAAAAHo/jK4W3_DRZ6s/s200/0884+Cross+at+Cape+Recife.jpg" width="168" /></a></div><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If you think about how many times your heart beats per minute, per day, per year, and you multiply that with your age, then you begin to wonder how much longer it can keep going. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know Vernon is thinking about this; his heart has served him faithfully for 77 years, but how much longer can it last. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m thinking about this as well; not just about him, but also for myself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It has made me realise, once again, what a precious gift life is. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God has given us this wonderful gift and many of us never pause to think exactly what that means. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t give us a life in bondage, but a life of freedom; the freedom to choose what we want to do with our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can be the captain of our own ship and go our own way, but, if we’re wise, we can choose to have God at the helm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t mean we won’t go through any stormy patches, but it will ensure that we have a safe journey to whatever shore God is taking us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At this stage in my life I am taking one day at a time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God has given me the precious gift of TODAY.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is now up to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What am I going to do with TODAY. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am I going to guard it selfishly, or am I going to share it with others? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am I going to keep the love that came with it to myself, or will I pass it on?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If God has given me one more day,</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I will live it to His glory, come what may.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-28168425545095470822011-04-02T12:43:00.001+02:002011-04-02T12:49:15.870+02:00Writer's Block - It's a cramp<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;">If you’ve never gone through a period of ‘writer’s block’ then consider yourself fortunate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think of it as a cramp in the creative part of the brain that won’t let go, and it causes extreme emotional pain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You sit and stare at the blank page and the ideas just don’t come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A thread of panic uncoils from somewhere deep inside you and it serves no purpose except to magnify the problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more you think, the less you produce and the greater the panic.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You tell yourself you’ve been writing too much over the past years, burning the candle at both ends on many occasions, and you’re mentally exhausted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You pay a visit to your local pharmacist and ask him to prescribe something for you that will give you a mental boost, something to revive the old brain cells, and you go home with your precious package believing that you’ve found a miracle cure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You give yourself a couple of weeks, telling yourself that the medication needs time to take root, but as the weeks go by you find that nothing has changed except that you’re so wide awake now your head is spinning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can’t sleep at night your brain is so active, but the thoughts flit through it at the speed of a bullet ricocheting from wall to wall in a room the size of a pantry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It leaves you mentally breathless and frustrated.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There is another kind of writer’s block where you know what you want to say, but you can’t find the right words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It takes hours to write a paragraph because whatever you write just doesn’t sound right, so you do it over and over again, writing it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i> way and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> way until you’re finally so exhausted you just don’t give a damn what it sounds like anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You put it away and decide to leave it for the next day, you’re exhausted, you need the break, but your mind is like a dog with a bone, it won’t let go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You get back to it the next day and it’s the same thing over again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like tapping water out of a tank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know it’s full, but when you open the tap the water comes out one reluctant drop at a time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’ve experienced both of the above and all I can say is that there’s no point in fretting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It only makes it worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let it go and do something else, something creative that doesn’t require you to use the written word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve always enjoyed photography; it’s another form of expressing oneself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There is something else as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t be too hard on yourself where your work is concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’re too critical you could become your own worst enemy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You might end up thinking your work is inferior when it is quite the reverse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The biggest stumbling block for any writer is the belief that their work isn’t good enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s fine to be a perfectionist, but don’t let it destroy the creative juices.</span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-54163149693951508042011-03-31T18:03:00.001+02:002011-03-31T19:42:19.597+02:00God still performs miracles<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;">There is a lady from Jeffrey’s Bay who has been suffering from Guillain-Barré Syndrome since July 2010.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those of you who don’t know, it is a debilitating disease that attacks the nervous system and paralyses the muscles, and the healing process is sometimes painfully and agonisingly slow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first time I heard about her was in August 2010, and even though I have mentioned her plight before, I would like you to bear with me while I run through some of the statistics again.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pdXApZyReHU/TZSllpvjKtI/AAAAAAAAAHk/ZG5pWGRutYU/s1600/100_1133+%2528Small%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pdXApZyReHU/TZSllpvjKtI/AAAAAAAAAHk/ZG5pWGRutYU/s320/100_1133+%2528Small%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;">This lady, Christa, was in ICU at Greenacres hospital since July 2010 until February 2011 when she was transferred to the Aurora Stimulation Centre here in Port Elizabeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friend, Veronica, and I have been calling on her regularly once a week when we do our rounds at Greenacres and St Georges hospitals, visiting members of our church who happen to be in hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have followed her progress from the beginning when, hooked up to monitors and breathing with the aid of a ventilator, she wasn’t even aware of our presence.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The healing process has been painstakingly slow, but Christa has been quite remarkable throughout it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There have been many frustrating moments, but she has been extremely patient, taking each tiny improvement as a blessing from God.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I confess that there were times during these weekly visits when I would have a difficult time convincing myself that I could see an improvement in her condition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was beginning to feel impatient and frustrated for Christa’s sake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that God was healing her and that it was His will and not mine that was important, but I would ask Him to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">please </i>let me see a visible improvement in Christa the next time I saw her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, sure enough, next time there would be a visible sign that the Lord was working his little miracles.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have been at a spiritual low just recently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This past Wednesday morning, before leaving home, I was talking to the Lord and saying that I don’t even know what I believe anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The doubts were crowding in and I was really feeling as though I was walking this road on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I left it there and didn’t think about it again, but when Veronica and I arrived at the Aurora Centre I once again had that feeling of ‘what’s the use’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We entered the building and when we were walking down the passage to Christa’s ward I said to Veronica, ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could walk in one morning and find that they’ve taken away that awful tube into her throat so that she can speak to us?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Well, we walked into her ward, and there she was, without the tube, and if we listened carefully we could even hear a bit of what she was saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were also told that she had been up and walking between the bars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was such a joyous moment that I became quite emotional.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was as if I could hear God saying, ‘See, I’m still here, and I can still perform these little miracles you’ve been asking for.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes, I needed to be reminded that I’m not alone, that the Lord is always with me, and that he hears my sometimes disjointed little prayers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have also realised that life itself is a miracle, and that we are surrounded by little miracles every day of our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we look for them, we’ll find them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God is all around us, performing these wonderful miracles for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If only we would remove our blinkers and take a proper look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Often the miracle is in an unexpected smile.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> I am truly blessed. </span>Praise God.</span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-87336023542001951162011-03-22T20:55:00.001+02:002011-03-22T20:56:32.867+02:00Writer's Reality<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Ku9MA8RSBuY/TYjuxVGwhZI/AAAAAAAAAFI/izQhnqLyVSw/s1600/scan001001+%2528Small%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Ku9MA8RSBuY/TYjuxVGwhZI/AAAAAAAAAFI/izQhnqLyVSw/s200/scan001001+%2528Small%2529.jpg" width="135" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The First</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Practice makes perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So they say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had forty-four romances published, the first in 1975 and the last in 1992.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, when I read the first one I think, okay, not bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when I read the last one I think, did I really write this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The improvement is glaringly obvious; it’s there in the style, the narrative and the dialogue, and yes, practice does bring about an improvement that will be noticeable to yourself and your readers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you have any doubts about your work then try this exercise and you might be pleasantly surprised.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"> Writing can be a very lonely occupation, it just depends how you look at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Authors will tell you that their characters become so real that they almost write their story themselves; that they’re like friends they’re reluctant to say goodbye to at the end of the novel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tell this to someone who isn’t a writer and they think you’ve got a screw loose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If your characters are real to you, then they’ll become real to the reader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yes, they do become like old friends; friends you never forget.</span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-dDV3k0AC6d0/TYju1geLb3I/AAAAAAAAAFM/wNdGN_JOmKk/s1600/scan001002+%2528Small%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-dDV3k0AC6d0/TYju1geLb3I/AAAAAAAAAFM/wNdGN_JOmKk/s200/scan001002+%2528Small%2529.jpg" width="130" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The Last</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To get back to what I said about writing sometimes being a lonely occupation – I can’t say that I ever found it so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My characters came alive for me the moment I started writing about them, they popped out of the pages and took on a life of their own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that way I was never alone, they were always there, egging me on to write more about their activities, whether joyful, passionate or sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those friends have never left, they’re still here, ever young, and part of a family to which I will always belong.</span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-6537349627570517692011-03-16T00:10:00.000+02:002011-03-16T00:10:19.828+02:00Looking Back<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have been going through all the short stories and articles (published and unpublished) that I have written over the years and I have been editing those that were never published so that they won’t appear so rough and unfinished – which, in fact, they are. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The idea is to have them all bound together in a book instead of having them lying around in drawers and filing cabinets where they serve no purpose.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have worked through most of them during the past two months and I must confess that some of my youthful attempts at story writing were not so bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was about to pat myself on the back, but then I took a peek at the three stories that I left for last, two of which were written during the early 1960s before I went as far as taking a course in short story writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reading them now I realise I was a complete novice where writing was concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The heart was there, but the skill needed some drastic sharpening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why did I keep these stories?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, they were sweet and innocent, and they were very much a part of a dream I was nurturing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the dream did come true … eventually.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Three short stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m inclined to call them the dregs because I deliberately left them for last.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t face them in the beginning when I started this project, they made me cringe, and I also knew that working on them was going to be extremely taxing, mentally, emotionally and physically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t avoid it now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re there; they’re the last on the list, and they’re crying out to be a part of this volume of memories even though they’re untitled and unfinished.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Of the three there is one that was written in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">latter</i> part of the 60s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has a beginning, but no middle and no ending.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It strikes a powerful chord, but I haven’t the foggiest where I intended to go with it, so I shall somehow have to pick up the threads, put on my thinking cap and attempt to finish it in the same vein that it was begun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One of the two stories written in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">early</i> 60s is partly written and partly just dialogue with an important scene missing in the middle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the last one is a real Cinderella story, partly typed and partly handwritten and without an ending.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t think of it as a Cinderella story when I wrote it all those years ago, but that’s the impression I get when I read it now, and it has also become my worst nightmare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t put it in as it is, with or without an ending, and I can’t alter it too much for fear of losing the simplicity of the storyline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a more modern version of a handsome prince saving a young maiden from a life of drudgery, it’s a “feel good” story, and I can’t help liking it, but the style, though sweet, is archaic.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So what to I do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t decided yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I shall have to read it again, and perhaps it would help if I was less critical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to try and remember when it was written, and under what circumstances.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t help but think of my published work, and as I do so I realise that it might be good to look back at where it all began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, believe me, it is a humbling experience.</span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-91033910191726307732011-03-13T18:41:00.006+02:002011-03-14T21:09:58.390+02:00My Cats<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MmlmZssK2QY/TXz1fwD6DJI/AAAAAAAAADw/kyBeCVlsGMk/s1600/Double+Trouble+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MmlmZssK2QY/TXz1fwD6DJI/AAAAAAAAADw/kyBeCVlsGMk/s200/Double+Trouble+%25281%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Double Trouble - Tandy & Tiggles</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Having animals is a commitment one shouldn’t make lightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to be prepared to be there for them from when you take them into your home and through to the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a heartbreaking business, and after one such parting I told our vet, “Never again”, but two months later I was back with a new little kitten and he greeted me with the words, “Once an animal lover, always an animal lover.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I think I must be a sucker for punishment, but I love my animals (cats and dogs), and cats are such dignified, loving and often impossible creatures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They own you, and not the other way around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you want to get along with cats then it’s important to remember that.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-VEnb7F4W_L0/TXz2d2nt2UI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ZmgPu_j5Du4/s1600/IMG_0894+%2528Small%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-VEnb7F4W_L0/TXz2d2nt2UI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ZmgPu_j5Du4/s200/IMG_0894+%2528Small%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tandy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Well, after losing my two Persians within a matter of months, I was persuaded to bring another little cat into the home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the effort to find a suitable kitten we ended up at the SPCA in Vereeniging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There, instead of finding one kitten, I decided to take two so that they would be company for each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two sisters; the one black and white (Tandy) and the other a silver-grey and white tabby (Tiggy/Tiggles).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their mother was a Siamese of mixed breed, but the Siamese is very prominent in Tandy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has the pointed face, the body shape and the loud, “I insist on being heard” voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These two cats are as different as chalk and cheese and they sometimes have their spats, but you will very often find them curled up somewhere together.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tandy is the brazen one who commands attention and also demands it from strangers, but Tiggles is the little shadow that disappears when people arrive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are both extremely loving and want to be stroked and touched, but don’t try to hold them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even when they were still tiny kittens they didn’t like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems to frighten them even if I put my arms around them without touching them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They will get up immediately and step out of the circle, but then again they will settle themselves on top of me when I’m in bed or watching TV.</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QiYdzaI2ksw/TXz_aaftfdI/AAAAAAAAAEw/Baz9g074Wbc/s1600/Tiggy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QiYdzaI2ksw/TXz_aaftfdI/AAAAAAAAAEw/Baz9g074Wbc/s200/Tiggy.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tiggles</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The next addition to the family was a white tom with a bushy grey tail and a few black spots here and there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My females were all neutered, but that didn’t seem to bother him, and I always knew when he was around because the ladies would </span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;">come screaming into the house on a high note of panic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to chase him whenever I saw him and Vernon would put the hose on him if he happened to see him in the garden, but somehow nothing helped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Snowy had chosen us, and there was nothing we could do to change that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was obvious to us that his owners must have dumped him and so he stayed, but first he had to be neutered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took him for all his injections and the vet judged his age to be around one year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took a little time for Snowy to adjust to becoming a house cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also had to adjust to the fact that there would be </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FW84nANyCe8/TXz589iXdrI/AAAAAAAAAEI/BGZgEY0JBSs/s1600/030+Snowy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FW84nANyCe8/TXz589iXdrI/AAAAAAAAAEI/BGZgEY0JBSs/s200/030+Snowy.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Snowy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;">a steady amount of food coming his way twice a day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He couldn’t stop eating at first, it was as if he was afraid the food would disappear, so he became extremely fat during those first few months, but then he settled down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also learned something with Snowy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was concerned that I wouldn’t love him because I didn’t have him from when he was a kitten, but I surprised myself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love him today just as much as I love the others.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The last addition to our cat family is Muffy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I named her ragamuffin when I first saw her because she looked like a dirty oil rag, and so she became Muffin (as it says on her card at the vet), but now it’s just Muffy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-kyNBHiT8674/TXz6PkSHS0I/AAAAAAAAAEY/RpbjzpKzul4/s1600/A+Foundling+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-kyNBHiT8674/TXz6PkSHS0I/AAAAAAAAAEY/RpbjzpKzul4/s200/A+Foundling+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Muffy - soon after arriving</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was in May 2005 that Vernon went to the municipal dumps with our garden help, Abel, to get rid of garden rubbish, and there, amongst all the rubble, was this tiny little kitten in serious danger of being injured or killed by the huge bull dozers that were scraping up the rubbish to load on trucks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was not a feral cat, she was extremely tame, so we can only assume that </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;">someone must have dumped her there. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes me want to weep to think that people can be so heartless. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have cats but they don’t have them neutered and when the kittens come along they dump them if they can’t find a home for them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I didn’t want more cats, but the moment this little thing was placed in my hands she just landed straight in my heart, and she has given us so much joy that we just adore her.</span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iLLd-UlCLyU/TXz6WO8W25I/AAAAAAAAAEc/bw1hicLdqro/s1600/Muffin+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iLLd-UlCLyU/TXz6WO8W25I/AAAAAAAAAEc/bw1hicLdqro/s200/Muffin+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Muffy - Settled in</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Muffy is our baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She went missing once when she was still a little kitten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I immediately went into panic mode, but when I walked into our bedroom I saw this little bump in the centre of my bed and, when I lifted the duvet, there she was, our soft little ball of fur, sleepy-eyed and purring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had already put herself to bed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I admit that she is spoilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides her pellets she gets all the tasty little bits off our plates, and it’s a regular thing to jump up on to my lap at the breakfast table to drink a little bit of milk out of my saucer while we’re having our tea. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is also the only one to get on my kitchen cupboards; not to steal food, but to look at what I’m doing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She will sit there and watch me move about, and when I happen to pass her she will reach out and touch me as if to say, “I’m here. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take notice of me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can be jealous and bossy at times, but Tandy quickly puts her in her place. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is also playful and loving, and she just loves to cuddle up close when it’s cold.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2olqT-i_u9I/TXz6d_cToqI/AAAAAAAAAEg/YZEnhpD4aTM/s1600/Muffy+and+Snowy+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2olqT-i_u9I/TXz6d_cToqI/AAAAAAAAAEg/YZEnhpD4aTM/s200/Muffy+and+Snowy+3.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's love</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My other cats didn’t want to know anything about Muffy when we introduced her into the family as a tiny little kitten. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They hissed at her and slapped her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t want to be friends with Snowy either, and so a remarkable thing happened. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This tiny little Muffy ran up to this </span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;">huge big male cat and threw herself down in front of him with her neck exposed, and my heart almost stopped beating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought, “Uh-oh, here comes trouble,” but Snowy took one look and was smitten. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He started licking her, and right there a strong bond was formed that still exists today.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My cats all have different natures, but they somehow all blend in to make a whole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are a family, and sometimes they can be really cranky, but each one is special in his or her own way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I, of course, love each one of them for their own special qualities, and I receive a lot of love in return. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What more can one want from your animals?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-69OMgomR_jQ/TXz_VujTsXI/AAAAAAAAAEs/RugHbHYvDCE/s1600/C+-+Pearl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-69OMgomR_jQ/TXz_VujTsXI/AAAAAAAAAEs/RugHbHYvDCE/s200/C+-+Pearl.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pearl (R.I.P)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-v4V0RbpD-Cs/TXz_RQ68oMI/AAAAAAAAAEo/A17IWE8BCgA/s1600/C+-+Athena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-v4V0RbpD-Cs/TXz_RQ68oMI/AAAAAAAAAEo/A17IWE8BCgA/s200/C+-+Athena.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Athena (R.I.P)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_1yTlq91E2c/TXz_Ka1p8TI/AAAAAAAAAEk/tprKZF9CzYQ/s1600/0322+Gizmo+%2528Small%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_1yTlq91E2c/TXz_Ka1p8TI/AAAAAAAAAEk/tprKZF9CzYQ/s200/0322+Gizmo+%2528Small%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gizmo (R.I.P)</span></td></tr>
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</div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-17465693949363907732011-03-11T08:40:00.001+02:002011-03-11T08:42:47.839+02:00From one extreme to the next<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We’ve been having thunderstorms just lately, which is something unusual here in PE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We lived for so many years in Gauteng and Natal and my cats were so used to the racket that they didn’t even stir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, suddenly, they are terrified and crawl into the tiniest hole to escape </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-DemL4_ejYFk/TXnCOxPba0I/AAAAAAAAACc/PJTFgg3xU-0/s1600/103_4140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-DemL4_ejYFk/TXnCOxPba0I/AAAAAAAAACc/PJTFgg3xU-0/s200/103_4140.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;">the noise of the rain on the roof and the thunder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our little Jack Russell, Foxy, is experiencing it for the first time, and he is absolutely terrified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I’m sitting down he wants to be on my lap, panting and tongue hanging out, and when I get up to go somewhere he walks so close to me that he steps on my feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He does the same with Vernon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just needs to be near a human.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poor thing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The thunderstorms here are, however, nothing like the ones we experienced in the provinces I mentioned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There it was sometimes a daily occurrence, and so violent that you could smell the sulphur in the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can remember that we never went to bed at night during the summer without unplugging our modems and computers in case a storm erupted in the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither did we go anywhere during the day without doing the same in case one of those sudden storms built up and knocked out everything <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>before you could get back home.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e3aOk8NuDZQ/TXnCUDBldsI/AAAAAAAAACg/ju3khnP2aqc/s1600/MVC-007S.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e3aOk8NuDZQ/TXnCUDBldsI/AAAAAAAAACg/ju3khnP2aqc/s200/MVC-007S.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I was playing bowls in the Ladies Spar Pairs at Vanderbijlpark once when there was a thunderstorm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now you’re not allowed off the green until the organisers make it an official announcement, but on that particular day the organisers all ran into the clubhouse to escape the storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there we were, playing out in the rain with lightning flashing all around us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were all scared, but my Skip was the first to crack and walk off the green.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we reached the entrance to the clubhouse everyone else had followed suit and were crowding in behind us.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span></span> <span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I was also playing in mixed trips in Dannhauser (Natal) one Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we left Newcastle that morning we could already see the dark bank of clouds in the distance down Ladysmith way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, in case you don’t know it yet, bowlers are quite crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We play in all kinds of weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, as the morning progressed the weather got worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By lunchtime it was already so cold I had difficulty holding my knife and fork.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-q4Ut1_GebmM/TXnCJgzfWII/AAAAAAAAACY/6ooSxVtzEMY/s1600/009S+Yvonne+%2528Private+Property+Sponsorship+Day%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-q4Ut1_GebmM/TXnCJgzfWII/AAAAAAAAACY/6ooSxVtzEMY/s200/009S+Yvonne+%2528Private+Property+Sponsorship+Day%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We were hardly back on the green that day when it started raining.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was like fine sleet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No amount of grippo on your fingers or on your bowl could stop your bowl from slipping out of your hand when you delivered it, so you had to use both hands to prevent this happening, and as the bowl travelled across the green it would kick up a fountain of water behind it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My nose started running from the icy coldness, and the dampness on my handkerchief made it freeze in the pocket of my raincoat so that it was impossible to use it again.</span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The organisers finally called a halt to the game at three that afternoon and, after drinking something to warm the innards, we drove back home to Newcastle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What followed was the worst snowfall in history for Newcastle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weight of the snow on the shade cloth bent the steel framework Vernon had had erected in our vegetable garden, and all over in the town the car dealers had cars damaged under mountains of snow and steel.</span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-68449159846716820482011-03-08T07:29:00.001+02:002011-03-08T07:36:29.141+02:00Down Memory Lane<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I was watching a good movie last night and, no, it wasn’t on TV. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When was the last time you’ve seen anything really good on TV? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pay a small fortune every month for the dish, but somehow there is very little that I enjoy watching.</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u64UkKgD-gc/TXW_-ccsECI/AAAAAAAAACA/oullp0XSBk0/s1600/MV5BMTY1OTUzNDcwNl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNDY4MjUyMQ%2540%2540__V1__SY317_CR4%252C0%252C214%252C317_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u64UkKgD-gc/TXW_-ccsECI/AAAAAAAAACA/oullp0XSBk0/s200/MV5BMTY1OTUzNDcwNl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNDY4MjUyMQ%2540%2540__V1__SY317_CR4%252C0%252C214%252C317_.jpg" width="135" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So, as I said in the beginning, I was watching a good movie last night. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was “STAR!”, with Julie Andrews as Gertrude Lawrence and Daniel Massey as Noël Coward. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It came on circuit for the first time in 1967-68 and was nominated for 7 Academy Awards, but, if I remember correctly, it wasn’t a wonderful box office success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps people found the story-line boring as it was based, more or less, on Gertrude Lawrence’s rise to fame, but for a music lover, like myself, it was a dream of a movie. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was lots of singing and dancing with numbers by Noël Coward, Cole Porter, the Gershwins and plenty more, and it took me right back to the 1940s and 1950s when musicals were very much the rage.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When I think of all the old musicals I think of actors like Doris Day, Gordon McRae, Shirley Jones, Howard Keel, Kathryn Grayson, Jane Powell, Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy, Marge and Gower Champion, Ann Miller, Red Skelton, Fernando Lamas, Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, to name but a few.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I think of movies (many of which were originally stage plays) such as Oklahoma, South Pacific, Carousel, The King and I, Show Boat, Annie Get Your Gun, Tea for Two, An American In Paris, Royal Wedding, The Great Caruso (with my all-time favourite singer Mario Lanza), Singin’ In The Rain, Kiss Me Kate, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Desert Song and … oh, I could just go on and on. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The list of musicals is endless and each one is an absolute gem.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When I think of these movies I find myself smiling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the 40s and 50s when you came out of a bioscope (movie house or cinema for those of you who don’t know) you would be smiling. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were lots of “feel good” movies during and after WW2. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And every now and then there was a real good drama that would have you in tears. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can think of one in particular – “Madame X” with Lana Turner – they handed out tissues at the door as you went in to watch the movie.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I find that I can’t always stomach the movies we’re shown today. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s heart-stopping action all the way through with all manner of violence spiced with plenty of blood and gore. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yuck!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who wants to remember movies like that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s no wonder the world is in such a state today. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These kind of movies are fed to the children from small, and then some of them go and act it out in their schools.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Oh, well … I’m glad I grew up in those good old times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have lots and lots of wonderful memories that fill me with great joy, and sometimes a little nostalgia for what is past.</span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-78650647287150246482011-03-05T19:17:00.000+02:002011-03-05T19:17:07.510+02:00The Story Behind The Story<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As a writer I have found that certain things lend themselves to the mood of what I am writing and, in some cases, even act as inspiration.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When I was a teenager I used to find that the creative juices would flow better and faster on a cloudy, rainy day, or on a cold, wintery day when I could curl up in bed under my eiderdown with a notepad and pencil.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Those were still the days when I needed to be inspired to write something worthwhile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you start writing professionally it is quite a different matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It becomes a disciplined art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You get up in the mornings, you go into your study, you pick up the threads of the story where you left it the day before, and then you write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This doesn’t mean that you’re not inspired to write, it simply means that you don’t wait for the inspiration to make a start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You start and the inspiration will be there quick enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think of “Inspiration” as a slow, lazy fellow that rouses himself now and then when the mood is right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But “Inspiration” is also a willing and obedient fellow when he comes face to face with determination.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Writing is a combined effort of the heart and the mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mind can do it on its own; it knows the technique and it knows how to use words creatively, but when the heart isn’t involved then what you’ve written has no soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think this is what it’s like when you go through the motions of being a Christian, but Jesus doesn’t feature in your everyday life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your worship is hollow, meaningless, and of no use to anyone – least of all to God.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have always said that everything I committed to paper always started with a feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It might be sad or happy, nostalgic or melancholic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never detailed the feeling, it just came with the story and sometimes even led to an idea that finally took shape in my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love music, especially the classics and opera, and many times the feelings awakened while listening to the music would lead to a story that simply had to be told.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have been spending every available moment lately editing stories and articles that were written many years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of them were unpublished, but the reason they were never discarded was because of the story behind the story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The story might not be very good, in fact some of them are quite silly, but as I am reading through them and editing out the glaring errors I am also reliving the feelings and the circumstances under which they were originally written.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are memories and emotions woven into the words on those pages, many of which I cannot share with anyone either because they are too personal or run too deep, and so they are going to be bound together in a book where they might end up meaning nothing to anyone but myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever the case might be, I am spending a memorable time reacquainting myself with the person I used to be.</span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-20676836186307757412011-03-02T22:26:00.001+02:002011-03-03T08:19:47.100+02:00Tranquility<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Whoa !! … Stop the bus, I need to get off and do some serious walking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have you ever stood on the beach with a shallow wave washing over your feet only to feel the sand being sucked out underneath you moments later, threatening to make you lose your balance as the wave pulls back to once again become a part of the ocean?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OVTKs2F4M3M/TW6meLZIShI/AAAAAAAAAA0/6IELY0TS5xI/s1600/IMG_0063+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OVTKs2F4M3M/TW6meLZIShI/AAAAAAAAAA0/6IELY0TS5xI/s320/IMG_0063+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There are days when everything becomes too much; days when, figuratively speaking, we feel as though we’re losing our balance, our grip on life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To maintain that balance in our lives there has to be an ‘ebb and a flow’, a ‘coming and a going’, a ‘giving and a taking’, a rhythm, or an oscillation, if you will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s when we start moving out of that natural pulse of life that we start losing control and fail to cope.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This is when we need to put on the brakes, before we go into an almighty skid and end up crashing, emotionally and physically.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Take a break, look around you, and draw a deep breath. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let God’s peace flow through you, let it heal you and refresh you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Feel the sun on your face or the rain on your tongue. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Listen to the birds, smell the flowers, and think about the wonder of being alive in this awesome world that God created.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘There is a time for everything,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and a season for every activity under heaven.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Ecclesiastes 3:1</span></i></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-56758952111700531762011-02-28T23:08:00.000+02:002011-02-28T23:08:11.503+02:00Thoughts !<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thoughts are often such fleeting things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you don’t capture them and take a firm hold of them they will slip away and be lost for ever.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I wished many times that I could have had my mind wired to a recorder to catch my thoughts as they entered my head. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The words that came with the thoughts were often so profound that if I didn’t write them down at once they would be lost and no matter how hard I tried afterwards I could never spin those thoughts into words in the flowing terms of their original context.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As a writer this reality would quite often become my worst nightmare and the frustration that goes with it doesn’t always make me a nice person to live with. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only a writer can understand what another writer goes through in the process of putting thoughts into words and to have it there in print for others to read. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just the teeniest interruption can shatter one’s thoughts into a million pieces, like an explosion shattering fragile glass. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poof!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s gone!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The words, the structure, the mood … all gone!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to recapture it could take hours of sweating blood.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When something like this happens you’re really not in the mood to think about what to give your family for dinner. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But – because you’re a woman – you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have </i>to think of these things. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to be there for your husband and your children, it’s your duty as a wife and mother, but deep down inside you’re a smouldering cauldron ready to boil over at the slightest provocation. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isn’t it every creative person’s right to focus on their work and to distance themselves from the mundane?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes, it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there’s a different set of rules for men and women. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that’s another story that could fill several pages.</span></span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-33328050408420121382011-02-28T00:17:00.001+02:002011-02-28T00:21:27.907+02:00Not my will, Lord, but Thine<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We were still living in Newcastle when the Lord started prodding me to do hospital visitation amongst the members of our church congregation, but I dug in my heels and declined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I considered myself totally ill-equipped to do something like that, but the Lord disagreed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The prodding continued over the years, but I would just side-step the issue with the excuse that I don’t have the necessary capabilities.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In 2007, here in Port Elizabeth, the prodding became a nudge one Sunday morning in church, and somehow I found myself writing my name down on a piece of paper and handing it to our minister before I could change my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Afterwards, of course, I wondered what on earth had possessed me to do such a thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was terrified of all that it would entail, but somehow the Lord never gives us a task to perform that’s too difficult for us to handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knows our capabilities better than we do and, best of all, He never sends us into a situation alone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After four years of visiting people in hospitals I am not immune to their pain and suffering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">for </i>them and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with </i>them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have walked in on people seconds before going into theatre with just enough time to say a brief prayer with them and I’ve seen the peace of the Lord come upon them in those moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been with people sitting at the bedside of a loved one who is dying, and I have been with cancer patients who know they don’t have long to live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stand beside their beds and I hold their hands and I am at a loss for words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their faces glow when they talk about their love for the Lord and how faithful and good He is, and I feel so small and insignificant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘What do I say, Lord?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m here because you wanted me here, and now I don’t even know how to pray for this person.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then we link our hands and we close our eyes, and I swear that the words that pour out of my mouth are not mine but from God.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have a friend from our church, Veronica, who does the hospital rounds with me on a Wednesday morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since August last year we have been visiting a lady in ICU who is <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">suffering from that debilitating disease called “Guillain-Barr</span></span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">é Syndrome”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It attacks the nervous system and paralyses the muscles, and the healing process is painfully, and frustratingly slow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Christa Booth is not from here, she is from Jeffrey’s Bay, and her husband, who is eighty, can only visit her when someone can give him a lift from Jeffrey’s to PE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first time we saw Christa she was in a coma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The second time she responded by turning her head slightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The third time we saw her she was unresponsive and her right leg was making jerky movements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was clearly in distress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time we didn’t know yet what was wrong, we thought she had had a massive stroke, and we didn’t think we would see her alive the following week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, amazingly we did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As time went by we learned the true nature of her illness, and from week to week we have been following her slow, often tedious progress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was incapable of closing her eyes, she was on a ventilator, and the only movement she could make was to turn her head slightly to the side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can now sit in a recliner, she can close her eyes to some extent but not yet 100%, she can smile and nod her head, and she can move her hands (her right hand mostly) to speak to us by indicating the letters on a board.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They now also take her off the ventilator for a certain period every day and about two weeks ago we discovered that she was also able to take a few steps with a walker, but not, of course, without assistance.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We feel that we have walked a long road with her and we pray that we will be able to walk it with her right through to the end of the healing process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We look forward to seeing her every week, and we know that she looks forward to seeing us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last week Wednesday she was moved to the Aurora Stimulation Centre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This, in itself, is a progression that we rejoice in.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There were times during these past months that I almost dreaded visiting with Christa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had prayed for her in so many different ways that I began to feel I was all out of prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was one occasion when I asked God, in private, to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">please</i> give us <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some</i> indication that healing was taking place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t have to be something big, just a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tiny</i> sign would be enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, God certainly gave us the sign we wanted, and that was when we saw the walker next to her bed in ICU.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem of what to pray for her was also solved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We learned that she felt the need to have the scriptures read to her, and that opened a wonderful door for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now we read the bible to her when we visit, and I read the day’s lesson from the Faith For Daily Living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow, after that, the prayers come easier, and I know this is God’s doing.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Aurora Stimulation Centre is not in our jurisdiction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are only supposed to visit patients in the Greenacres Hospital and at St Georges, but we have come so far with Christa that we feel we can’t desert her now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve become friends, and we look forward to the day when we will walk in and have her speak to us instead of using sign language and the alphabet on a card.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, please God, I pray that day is not too far off.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Christa has been an example to us even as she sits there in her chair, or when exhaustion after physiotherapy keeps her in her bed a while longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can’t function normally, she can’t even speak because of the ventilator, but there is never any sign of temperament. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is nothing wrong with her mind, her mental faculties are all in tact, so I can only guess at her frustration, but she never complains.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Mangal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We are so quick to moan when things don’t go exactly the way we want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is in meeting people like Christa that we realise we have so much to be thankful for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also won’t stop praying that the Lord will soon release her from the physical restrictions of this disease.</span></span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-27325691025507094252011-02-24T22:46:00.001+02:002011-02-24T22:48:28.767+02:00Loose Ends<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;">Filing isn’t something I enjoy doing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m always threatening to do the filing at the end of every month, which never happens, but I do usually try not to leave it for longer than three months. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last year (2010) I had very little time for myself, except for those glorious three weeks in August that I spent touring Italy and Austria with Dorette, my sister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other than that break away, I had little gaps here and there, but then I would be simply too tired to tackle anything as exhausting as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">filing </i>!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well … in January, with the Christmas and New Year celebrations a thing of the past, I emptied out the trays in my study and discovered, to my dismay, that I hadn’t done any filing since July last year. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could feel myself drooping as the weight of what lay ahead of me began to settle on my shoulders, but strangely, once I got going, it didn’t seem so bad after all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ended up devising a whole new filing system and at the same time got rid of stacks of papers that I’d been hoarding unnecessarily.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was this whole cleaning up process that got me thinking about something else that has been troubling me for a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had Short Stories (English and Afrikaans / published and unpublished) and Scribblings (articles and such) lying around all over the place. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some were in a file in the filing cabinet, some were in a large brown envelope in another drawer of the filing cabinet, and others were in a box in my study. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also, unexpectedly, found some saved on my computer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The crux of the matter is … I hate loose ends, and I have always worried that I might leave my children one day with the problem of having to sort through all my stories and scribblings and having a tough time of trying to decide what to do with them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, my darlings, I am in the process of saving you that hassle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have gathered together everything I can find that I have written over the years and I am busy putting them on to the computer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the stories were written forty, maybe fifty years ago, so they need a little brush up here and there, but the object is to leave them as they are with all their many faults.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the stories are scraps of dialogue that don’t quite make sense to me yet, and others don’t have an ending. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worst of all, I don’t have the foggiest idea what I had had in mind all those years ago when I had initially scribbled down those first few pages. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t leave them unfinished, that’s for sure, so I’m going to have to do some serious meditation to see if I can pick up the threads I had let go of so long ago.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am finding this all very exciting. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The idea is that, when I’m finished, the stories and scribblings will be printed and bound together in a book. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That should save you all a lot of trouble, don’t you think? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t have to keep a copy either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it is I shan’t have many copies printed, and I shall be selective about whom I shall give one to.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I miss the days when I used to write for Mills & Boon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those were the happiest years of my life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I am doing now is also affording me a great deal of satisfaction and, with it, has come the realisation that I am not happy when I’m not writing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a need within me that refuses to be stilled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not many people understand this side of me and as a result I don’t have anyone to talk to about my writing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We writers need stimulation, and that is something only someone with the same desires can provide.</span></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013623894668623147.post-39636770445988310812011-02-23T19:27:00.000+02:002011-02-24T09:28:59.805+02:00From the Old to the New<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Okay, so now I’ve got a blog.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What is a blog?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The word doesn’t even feature in my Webster’s Third International Dictionary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a word from the “new” world and I’m still from the “old”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All this new technology frightens me, it looks so complicated, and I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever be able to understand it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t help wishing I was a child again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Children seem to have a natural ability when it comes to computers, cell phones, e-books and MP3s, to mention only a few of the things on the market these days.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I can remember, almost sixty years ago, learning to type on the old Underwood and Remington typewriters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you pressed the Shift key the whole carriage would lift up off its resting place to allow you to type a capital letter (a carriage, by the way, is the roller section that holds the paper you’re typing on).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On releasing the Shift key the carriage then drops back on to its resting place with a resounding crash that would make your desk shudder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were great big clanging machines that needed a man’s strength to move them from one place to another when necessary and it’s no wonder the typing pool was always situated at some distance from the offices of the managerial staff.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We were taught “touch-typing”, which means we had to learn to type from a book, or a folder, without looking at our hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Touch-typing, in other words, had nothing whatsoever to do with a light touch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One needed a certain mettle in ones fingers and wrists to be able to pound those keys hard enough for the little hammers to make contact with the ribbon, which, in turn, would leave the imprint of the letter on the paper.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Typewriter ribbons came on reels and were made of a thin, rather silky material.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would run from the reel on the left to the one on the right, and then back again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only the top section of the ribbon was used, so when it became too faded to leave a good imprint on the paper, or when it developed little holes (which it sometimes did), one would remove the reels, turn them over so that the unused bottom section would now be on top, and there you go – a brand new, second-hand ribbon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They lasted for ages, much longer than the fancy cartridges of today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually, as the typewriters became fancier and less noisy, we could get ribbons that were black on top and red at the bottom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That made typing financial statements so much easier – when someone was in the red you could type the figures in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">red</i>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In 1960 Vernon very kindly bought me a portable Olivetti typewriter – a pink one – and this was my pride and joy for a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The keys were just so small and close together that I quite often caught my fingers between the keys if I typed too fast, and so I was constantly nursing raw fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was on the Olivetti that I typed my first few published manuscripts, and with my first Royalty cheque I bought myself a normal sized Facit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the Facit I finally progressed to an electric typewriter – nothing scary about that – but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then</i> came the era of the Word Processor.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aX6xSCi-RIY/TWYH5kMhW0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/JkM5M9_TEr4/s1600/olivetti.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aX6xSCi-RIY/TWYH5kMhW0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/JkM5M9_TEr4/s320/olivetti.bmp" width="264" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I recall being terribly nervous when the word processor was delivered and demonstrated to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought then that I would never be able to understand how it functions, but once I’d calmed down I realised that the manual that came with it gave very simple, step-by-step instructions that helped me through the sticky patches until I was comfortable with this new, modern invention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a luxury in the sense that I didn’t have to retype my manuscripts after editing and making changes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The latter was all done on the processor and then it would print it out for me – all I had to do was feed the paper into it at the end of every page.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As with most things, there was a down-side to this for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was terribly concerned that I would lose some of my work if the word processor should develop a glitch, and as a result I always made sure that I kept a printed copy of everything I wrote.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a matter of fact, I now have a computer and I still don’t trust it not to lose my work somewhere along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All this talk of motherboards crashing and goodness knows what else simply scares me silly.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Well, I’ve survived the ordeal, and I’ve walked the road from feeling stupid to coping with all this modern technology.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And now I’m back to where I started with this episode.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And so I’ve got a blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, I guess, in time to come I’ll wonder why I thought I wouldn’t be able to cope.</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Yvonne Whittalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13802117644010271435noreply@blogger.com1