melody magic

Ello there again !

Succes ! sister three has managed to add a link so i thought that
while im at it i might as well share some more magic moments with you all!
Here is a little musical ode to our musical talents..
Sisters, im with you all the way !
maestromusic
Love S3

an eye for annai

I just looked at my first added link to see if it had worked
and now here i am again take two ;

If it doesnt work then i will wait till tomorrow morning
and phone sister two for special link adding advise

oh dear im such a computer amateur

otherwise just type " an eye for annai " in you tube
and you will see the nice cartoon

lots of love
s3
aneyeforannai

somewhere in south amerika

Now once upon a time there was a little man working away as every other day
at the bottom of a mountain digging for stones to sell for some money
it was extremely tiring work and the sun was shining especially mucho making him sweat
he was fed up of being such a small man and having this endless mountain infront of him
you could say he was completely demotivated
and he said to himself " I wish i was stronger than i am , infact i would like to be the strongest in the whole wide universe! " upon which he squinted his eyes towards the giant sun deciding and feeling claro que si it was definately this giant fire ball that lived up to those descriptions; and then all of a sudden a great sound filled his ears and he was wooshed up to the sky and metamorphosically transformed .....into the sun !
" Wow " he whelped of singing joy , " this is not bad ! I am supersonically officially the super strongest in the whole wide universe and i like it and i will shine all day long , yeah letthesunshinein letthesunshinein lalala ! " upon which a large grey cloud came drifting along and settled just infront of the sun's nose.
" Oy get away ! Im the strongest here ! "
But the cloud did not move an inch and this made the sun very angry and he huffed and puffed and shined trying to blow him away and before he knew it he was delicately and lightly moving himself ... he had infact become the cloud !
" ooooh Tis wonderful to finally be the strongest in thee world , I do enjoy it and i will cloud around where ever i please "
but within no time his world got turned upside down and he was wooshed and buffeted around in a big whirl of wind !
" wooshy galory ! what is this !? let me go ! I am the strongest here ! " he shouted as he was made to do a triple salto against his will.
The cloud was having none of this and soon enough he was doing a few backward flickflacks on his own command! Yes he had magically become the wind and there he was flying through the sky
as happy as one can be dancing infamous Travolta smooth moves
until he was rudely stopped by ....
a mountain !
" Oy ! get out of my way ! Im dancing ! "
But the mountain just stubbornely stood there and the travolta wind decided to transform into this mountain
and there he stood
as happy as a pig in a field being all mountainous and mighty until...
he felt little rocks falling away from his rocky gown down below.
He looked and there was this tiny little man digging away at his mountain dress
under the hot sun and in a magic moment he was transformed into the happiest and strongest little man in the whole wide world , content with working at his job.
And guess what ? Just at that moment he digged away some rocks that revealed a little door which opened before his eyes and there was the most beautiful living little woman who had been locked away in an other fairy tale. Not only that but the room was a 225 square metre fantastically furnished loft with a jacuzzi and sauna, filled with shiny coloured precious stones.They fell deeply inlove and lived happily ever after with lots of friends they already had.The end.

Hope you like the story and now i send you ,along with lots of love and strength , a little cartoon i really like which always puts me in a good mood.
Thinking of you all !

Big ballerinabear hugz from sista thwee ***

show us your teeth

In the days before sister three came along, when we were little, sister one, I mean I was little and you were always bigger, when we lived in South Africa, and I followed you around, and did what you did, and felt really big, there were new neighbours one day, with a daughter your age by the name of Sarah. I remember her name because it is the same as our cousin’s. She had light blonde hair. You seemed to like each other and went off and played together. I was having none of this. At the first opportunity I found I went up to this girl Sarah and bit her in her arm, hard. The mother later lined us up in their garden and showed me poor Sarah’s arm with the teeth marks still visible. As the teeth marks matched the size of my teeth, there was no denying it. The mother sternly told me off. I sulkily said I am sorry but really didn’t mean a word of it. How dare she try and come between me and my big sister? Anyway, it seemed to do the trick, because I don’t remember seeing her again.
S2
if you are out there, sarah, I am really sorry, retroactively.

Moving house and waiting are my least favourite things

And I am very much waiting at the moment. All plans have been put on hold waiting for THE TREATMENT to start. Not knowing when, is tiring.

Otherwise, everything is frighteningly normal. I do food shopping, I take the kids to the doctor for a check up. I expect people to stare at me, but they don't. Car drivers even shout at me when I jay walk with my phone to my ear. I resist the urge to shout; "Hey, I have breast cancer, you know."

I have looked up all the celebrities who have had bc on internet.

Just out of interest, I had a peek at a site that sells wigs. There go my fantasies. The wigs they have would make anyone look like Lady Di. Before she met Gianni Versace. As you may recall, that look didn't suit me in 1985, and it wouldn't suit me now. I should ask Britney where she got hers.

My husband bought me an iphone. I am not much of a gadget girl, but this is very, very cool. I can now read your postings in the Starbucks. I will be sending my new number shortly.

Thank you sisters, and everyone else for that matter, for all the support. It does good. But don't worry too much. A lot of life left in me yet.

Love S1

Keep On Walking

Yap, dear sisters, this is a blooper, something we really don't want. I haven't slept for three days, and keep thinking about you, sister uno, and what this does to your perspectives, and our perspectives. I have been looking at survival statistics and as far as I can tell you are living in one of the best states in America for treatment and you're statistically better off than if you were in Europe. Ie, despite the crashing news, you have every chance of surviving. Thank goodness for that! You have seen no lightning, yet the news certainly came in as thunder here. My world is upside down, and I realise the part you play in it. Your situation here lends me the grace of clarity in terms of priorities and insight. The picture I see of me in this light is not very pretty, quite frankly. But this is not about me. No time for mushy peas, I am deciding for you that this is a life sentence, a license to live (even) more intensely. I have every intention of keeping you on this side of healthy and this side of life. Sorree! Hopla. For the rest words rather fail me, but we shall keep moving and maybe even get stronger.

For your inspiration, dear sisters, and friends, a film I saw in London at Tate Modern: NoMad

It's by Eva Koch and it is a video of a walkway in the sea by Mumbai where I plan to go....people walk along it to go and pray. You don't see the beginning, you don't see the end, just the people, the walkway and the lapping waves. Enjoy it.

Sending you love and health in quadruple quantities.
sister two

NO LIGHTNING

Dear sisters,

So, lightning does not strike and divide up the earth when you get the diagnosis of breast cancer. Rather it is preceded and followed by waiting rooms in various pastel hues, Oprah's magazine telling you you can do ANYTHING you want, and many forms explaining your right to privacy as a patient. Your childrens still demand their chocolate milk and refuse to eat their vegetables. Your car could still do with a visit to the car wash.

It might be a good time to do it. It is practical and simple.

The sun does seem to shine a little brighter and the music definitely sounds a little sweeter, while I adjust to the idea of it all. I am that young mother with two young children. It really is me they are talking about. Reading is very enjoyable at the moment. The many calls of support do me good. I love A. and the kids more than ever.

I really have no intention of not getting well, so it is a question of getting through the treatments. Right? I am worrying about gaining weight and getting flaky skin, a common side effect, and I am having wild fantasies about the long blonde curly wig I will choose when I lose my hair. (One MUST always make the most of a situation). They advise you to get a colour slightly lighter than your natural (?) hair colour as the chemo does tend to make you rather pasty faced. I am familiar with that concept.

Anyway, it is the calm before the storm. The date for removal of the "lump" has not been set. It will be within the next week or two. We are going to get a 2nd opinion at a breast care center, just to hear a different point of view and maybe to move to a specialised center. In the meantime, I am ironing name tags onto Jip's new school uniform. He starts kindergarten tomorrow. We are sending him to the local Catholic school which is just two blocks down the road and has a large proportion of red heads enrolled. I tried explaining who God is, but I don't think I did a very good job. It didn't appeal to Jip much. Now I just have to get him to stop calling it the "God school" before tomorrow.


Love S1.

petits taxis

In Casablanca the honking streets are full of ‘petits taxis”, which are basically battered red Peugeot 205’s which have seen better days, with an iron bar into which the seats rest. No seatbelts. The law allows you not to wear one, but even if you wanted to, finding one is rare. People prefer to sit behind the iron bar. The rides are cheap. Maximum three passengers, and if there is still place the driver may pick up other passengers, if they are going the same way. This is nice for mingling with the locals. Since everyone except for the least educated people speak French, communication is easy.
Some samples:

What does that piece of writing say?
It’s a prayer for travellers.
Oh, so it’s for us then?
No, not for you, you are Catholic aren’t you? This is only for Moslims.
Don’t you pray for anyone who is non-Moslim?
No we can’t. It’s only for Moslims. I don’t want to talk about it.
At which point the lady next to me specifies: we do pray for other people, don’t worry. It’s not the way he says, it’s hard to explain. But Non-Moslims are not allowed to read the Koran, really, and you have to be clean.
At which point the driver ejects us at our destination.

Another sample:

Ooh! A boat! Look, I’ve got a boat brooch on too, I got it in Prague where there is no sea.
What does it say in the middle of the boat?
It’s a prayer. It’s for Moslims. I presume you are Catholic?
No, I’m English. (wrong answer!)
At which point we drive past the American Embassy which has commandeered half of the street and has containers filled with geraniums for protection..we travel in a week of heightened alert and thankfully nothing untoward happened in that dept.
Your country made a big historical mistake, you know.
I know, but you know one million people protested against the war? Not everyone in Britain agreed with that disastrous decision.
Still, Tony Blair will go down in history as a fool. You know, it’s not even The West or the United States who dominate the world; the world is simply colonized by money and it's everywhere. The Arab nations are part of it as much as any other country.

This conversation was held as we headed to the Belgian Consul’s house for a garden party celebrating the national holiday. It is amazing how Belgium becomes an entity (ie something whole) when abroad. Something it struggles to do internally. As we got out of the taxi our museum director friend gave him 20 dh for the ride and 10 for what he said. This could be construed as colonialist given that last comment, but I assure you it was a kind, elegant gesture. He was a nice man and this made him happy. Phew. I was worried about him for a moment. He seemed so sad. About the state of the world in a powerless kind of way.

There was the taxi man I told to calm down when he got annoyed with me for telling him where to go. We ended up laughing because we had both lived in New York and both loved and hated the place in equal parts, but possibly loved it more than hated it because we both said we missed it. And he missed working for dunkin’ donuts as a computer man. He said he particularly missed the donuts.

There was the taxi man who worked every day except on Sundays. He was looking forward to Sunday. He also asked me if I was Catholic. Next time I shall wear a t-shirt which says: No, I am not a catholic, a protestant, a Buddhist, a jew, a Jain, a Moslim, I am a bona fide human being just like you, and I like it that way and I think you are very nice too, and headscarves are okay I think, I wear things on my head too sometimes, although when it’s hot I don’t like to cover myself up if you don’t mind, but I hope I don’t offend you by being my beautiful self, and I respect your choices please can you respect mine. And sometimes I even smoke cigars. And I pray for Moslims too and sufism has taught me a lot and rumi is my favourite poet as well as Emily Dickinson, and please let me read the Koran, as I might learn something new.

Or I might just wear a penguin suit.

Cars don’t stop for pedestrians, by the way.

NB. I am not so much bothered about the conversations themselves, which are a delight, and a discovery, always, but the black/white contrast in expectations can be a little disconcerting. It is interesting to find that the only alternative to being Moslim is being Catholic.Which must be the kind of polarities of perception that immigrants meet while living in Europe all the time.

The best taxi ride was after the hammam, with my new friend Bérénice. Going to the hammam together is an excellent basis for friendship. And rekindling them, if I remember *Istanbul* last year! :)It's something about the shared experience of being scrubbed and pummeled, and basically letting everything go. The ladies doing the pummeling said: should we say Madame or Mademoiselle? I said I didn't know. When do you become a madame? The lady pointed to her chest and said: when you get boobies as big as these. Neither B. or I qualify in that department so we settled for still being demoiselles.

We got into the taxi and B. got out her I-pod. Soon we were whizzing down the boulevard listening to all her crazy music, a mixture of Gnawi rhythms, Marvin Gaye and finally, Nina Simone: it was that song I posted earlier: Ain't got no... I got life. This was the best!!!!

There was a strange electric blue light in this p'tit taxi. The driver looked a bit worried in the rear view mirror, and then smiled, and it seemed some people didn't want to get in to join us, and the car was probably bouncing with our dancing, but we had the most beautiful ride through the city.

So we are coming back.

Hasta la proxima!
sestra dwa

PAINTINGS HANGING IN LONDON

Dear sister 2,

I have never been a human tuning fork. Neither do I have paintings hanging in London. If you are not going to put it up, I must. I love this painting.


With love, S1

no course in dealing with disappointments

My singing lesson was at 16:00. I was only at Breda by 15:30 stuck in a traffic jam that had us moving at 10 km an hour for what seemed like aaages. At this rate I’ll be there by six I thought. I turned off for the petrol station to call I. and tell her I wouldn’t make it on time to The Hague for my lesson…
In the parking I got out my charangito and plucked its strings. Even for an as-yet non-player it yields the most amazing sounds. Then I mosied over to the shop. The phone rang: it was my teacher, generous and funny and wise. She said: can you make it by 6? I have a slot free. Good job I hadn’t turned around. 1 km past the petrol station the jam miraculously cleared, so close after I had considered turning back. I reached Kijkduin with half an hour to spare. Enough to walk in the dunes and feel the wind in my hair. Why were there tears streaming down my face? The nice thing about being by the sea is that it is so much bigger than you. The sound and the air are so all-encompassing it is easy to be absorbed in them, and disappear. Over the dunes I came towards the sea, but first I passed a hut made from salvaged materials. Inside were mammoth teeth which the fishermen sometimes find in their nets. Outside there was a sign which said: “The course in dealing with disappointments has unfortunately been cancelled.” My lesson was much in the same tone, ie. nothing to do with disappointments. Celebratory, graphic and wide. As I was lying on the table she took a big sound bowl, lay it on top of me and struck it with a mallet. Red, pink, white and magenta flames of sound lapped up over the bowl’s edge and the sound resonated through my body from my head to my toes. She moved the bowl up a little, and the flames became yellow and green. Back down again. She put it on my shin, that felt a bit flat, then on my knee, that resounded marvellously. My left leg thoroughly ceded and all of a sudden I passed into another state of being, which was blissful and filled with peace. Then the right leg complied. I don’t know if ever you have had the experience of being a human tuning fork, but the feeling is quite divine. After that you get up and sing. Now that’s what I call living.
Ciao sistas!
s2

Wherein the executive wives travel to the desert and find it is very hot.

Dear sisters,

I was in a resort again this weekend. This time in Indian Wells, which is not far from Palm Springs in Southern California. A desert area with no less than 120 golf courses and a lot more palm trees. I, and the other wives of management, were invited to come along for a Zecco off site weekend. The rates are very reasonable at this time of year, as it is off season, meaning not the best time to go. When we were there, the daily temperature was around 110 degrees Fahrenheit, which roughly translates to 43 degrees Centigrade. That is hot. I did pretty well considering our English bloodline and therefore my general disability to act gracefully in temperatures above 25 C. Having been to the sun so recently must have helped. While the men were in their meeting, I had a dip in the pool and lay in the shade for all of 15 minutes.

Amazingly, it was very busy in the resort. These people are pretending they can still breath normally, while I know they are being hugged tightly by a warm blanket of dry air.



In a book lying in our hotel room I found this advert which gives an idea of the feel of the Palm Springs area (in high season).



"Is it worth $ 5,000 to keep your woman from sleeping around?"




"$ 10,000?"



"$ 25,000?"




"Think about it."



"Women and Jewelry. It's...worth it."


Yes, when you think about it, life is simple.


On Saturday night the program took us to the FANTASY SPRINGS RESORT, which was just as subtly styled as the name suggests. The resort is situated in an Indian reservation, which means the main attraction is gambling. Not quite Vegas. We manoeuvred our way through the noisy slot machines, avoiding busloads of the extremely fat and the very old, that had been dropped off for the evening. I saw a little frail old lady, pressing her nose up to the screen of her slot machine each time she pushed the button, and running along the bars with a dollar bill to see if she had a winning line. It's just entertainment, baby.
We whiled away a few hours at the black jack table and came away with a slight profit.





All the kids had been left at home with the babysitter, her husband, her daughter and her parents. The nephew dropped by too. When we got home we made Jip and Rosie stick their head out of the window for a bit of fresh air. Nothing too drastic. We didn't want them to go into shock after not having been outside for 3 DAYS. Re-training starts tomorrow.


With love,
S1

more about casablanca

My room perplexed me: above the twin beds with yellow covers was an upside-down sunset. It intrigued me for days. What did it mean? On the last day, after we had been to the hammam together for a heaven on earth total treatment experience of steam, scrub, clay, wrap, bubble bath, full body massage, followed by a cool down with freshly squeezed orange juice at the Ziani baths, I saw Bérenice’s room when I went to borrow her nail clippers: she had a blue and pink sunset, horizontal. Hers was the right way up.

The curious dinner I had one night also perplexed me: at La Presse I received a Merlan Doré, which infinitessimally had its tail in its mouth. Its white eyes stared at me and it filled me with trepidation, was it horror, or fascination? But the taste of that fish was so rare and delicate that the memory will stay with me for a long time to come. A gold porcelain object broke.















The man at the olive stall with the tasteful mintgreen bobbly walls had laughed when I asked whether he was selling olives with mint. “we’ll have to try that combination sometime” he laughed. I believe it was olives with parsley or coriander he was selling. And his was the most tastefully arranged booth on the block, so simple, just an olive stall, but such style he had. The others were raucous, commercial, his was arranged with care, and it smelt nice.

There was the contagious laughter of my little friend Y. who continued laughing in my head as I tried to get to sleep, which only had me laughing again. A beautiful, intelligent child, the daughter of one of the artists in our group. They had travelled from Tétouan, it had been eight hours on the train, and poor Y. only had one book with her, about the story of Karim, which she had read again and again. I asked her to tell me what it was about and she proceeded to relate the story of the baby boy and his many brothers and the old man in the forest and the sharing of the bread, in great detail, as we both ate our delicious tagine. She had this magic laughing trick. We met up several times during the eight days, she is so on the ball, I love it when people are so much in the present. There were times when she was tired and turned inwards like a flower in the evening, and others when her energy was hard to keep up with and her laughter had me reeling. On the evening before last she translated some words for me from Arabic into French, as her mother looked on in disbelief...














greetings, next installment soon, thank you sister three for reconnecting me with those fine people you met in ghent, it was a warm reunion in a circle of trees which today was my livingroom. Tiny spiders fell on us from above and the sun only graced us with a few splatters of light, for the rest it was muggy grey and portions of free-jazz and fizz (that's a gin fizz without the gin - excess inclines one to moderation).
ahoj
s2

YOU HAVE TO GO BY THE NUMBERS

"SO YOU TELL ME WHERE IT SAYS I CAN'T USE MY CELL PHONE IN HERE?"
The security guard of the social security office points wearily to a crumpled photocopied sign which says "NO PHOTOGRAPHY". It has a picture of a camera and a cell phone with a line through it. The woman retreats, muttering: "Alright then, I just wanted to know where it says I can't use my cell phone. I am not a child. Your uniform does not impress me." She slumps back in a chair with a defiant look on her face.

I take a number and a seat in the crowded room. I look at my number. I memorize my number. I do not want to miss my call. Rosie is trying to stroke a baby again and I am not sure the mother appreciates her grubby fingers on her spotless child. Monday lunch time is not the best time to apply for a social security card. Rosie's nap time is not the best time to apply for a social security card. She squirms and wriggles in the buggy.

"E234.." "E234", I check my number again. "PLEASE, LOOK AT YOUR NUMBER!" a big voice bellows into the room. I do. It is not E234. "Last call for E234". E235?" E234 walks up to the counter a few minutes later. He had not looked at the front of his piece of paper, he explains - with the number on it. "GET A NEW NUMBER, WE CAN'T HELP YOU, WE HAVE TO GO BY THE NUMBERS." The room watches in silence. E234 pulls a new number and takes to his seat again.

I am pushing Rosie around the room to keep her happy and away from babies. Each time a number is called, I look at my number. Frank has a problem with the bank. I hear that. Frank does not understand. Frank is told to sit down, while they sort it out. I do a few more rounds. Franks is called again. O, no, Frank has gone to the bathroom, he is going to miss his turn. I anxiously look for Frank. Frank is back. Good, good.

Finally;"D40" That is me.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a social security number. Set to go.

of the size of sparkles

A vignette: imagine flying to Morocco on a budget airline flight (which in the end wasn't that cheap) seeing all the beautiful sassy ladies with their light blue headscarves, having a little hand come from the chair behind me touching my arm halfway through the flight cos the baby wanted to say hello... the planes are bright green, interesting colour concept. I was reading the latest novel by Oscar van den Boogaard, Magic Man, now there is a man if ever there was one who deserves to be translated and widely read in the english language (no self interest in that comment of course!) well before I get all preachy on you, well no, let me do just that. He is brilliant!

So there we were flying on the fourteenth of July over France. Last year we were celebrating at the Fireman's Ball in Montmartre, me swatting the men off my younger art school colleagues, who are very naughty, feeling like a right chaperone, and having an amazing bubbly pastis marinated time, having spent time earlier that day taking funny pictures with bananas at Versailles and basically on a collective aesthetic high, but that was a year ago. Look at me now! I thought... so high!

Below us in the darkness we could make out the contours of villages and cities, and suddenly there were flashes of colour, little lights, what were they? Suddenly they connected, this was no isolated incident, simultaneous mini flashes of exploding colour, tiny, miniscule but visible in the night. Then suddenly I remembered the date, and how we crane our necks backwards, and look up at the high!high! sky; fireworks that make you dream. And there I was flying what felt like a million miles higher, watching the silent popping below. So much for our dreaming and our wishfulness. A humbling moment, sheer delight. And then to be so very much touched, having wanted to go to Morocco for such a long time; and then to find, for me, it is such a simple operation. Of the one-way-ness of the trafic flow I am well aware. We saw the queues in front of the embassy of people waiting for a visa to get into Europe. The humiliation people have to go through to visit a relative (yes, a lot of people have family in europe) or even in the wish of finding work, is terrible.

With this ease of travel for us in mind, my gratefulness accrued, and we flew over France and Spain and landed in Casablanca in the dark. And I was ever thankful to land..I shall tell you more soon. Let it be said that I love Morocco and I hope I shall return soon.
tbc.
s2

It all started in Estonia

Ello sistars! it has been three weeks since i have returned to the west and here is a brief collection of whats been going on :
The first week consisted of a lot of eastern lorry drivers playing hungarian disco music who got us here in the first place.( Must i go into detail ? )
Now we all know a young and fit girl should not hitchike in an age like this but when you are accompagnied by a hairy yetti from the east of czech as i was then i think you can.
After three days of camping in luxurious german gas stations we arrived safely in the normandy heaven,but alas it was raining. Despite this weather we had a lot of great food and fun times building walls and singing to the cows and frogs.
The second week i returned to the haven of home/family/friends in belgium to find that everyone i knew was on holiday, including the parents who had kindly left the cats behind to keep me company, so for a few days i was intensely observing the whales, otters and seals being saved off the californian coast as one does in belgium.( yes i was looking for you sistar one ) But enough was enough, the deep blue whale singing was beginning to haunt me and i decided to go to my first beach party with an old friend i had tracked down working in a downtown cafe. The entrance was free if you turned up in your swimming gear but as we arrived at midnight and had missed all the cool beach films anyway we just went to the underground bar disco and looked at all the silly people who had actually put on their swimming suits; the disco ball was twirling and shining a thousand stars on everyone but only the dj was dancing so we decided to teach these belgians a cultural lesson in creative dancing. As well as mixing the Macarena with some stylish Karel Got ( hes a czech singer/dancer/ god you have got to get to know ! )moves , the effect was astounding and the result was amazing. Within no time the whole room was filled with people dancing around the sparkling globe. Yes mama disco ( thats me by the way ) had fulfilled yet another mission on planet earth.
So it was time to go to sleep and prepare for an Alpha Blondy concert the next day near Antwerp with sistar number two and yes it was great ! Lots of positive vibes, mud and an orange singing full moon. The next day i bought a complete toy drum in a chinese shop in the sales ofcourse ( for future puppetshows )and then i went to see friends and more friends who had started to creep back to the belgian capital. I saw the Simpsons , the movie , just to keep up to date with some worldly culture and it was quite good. I bonded with the parents a few days and then on friday i decided to travel in this small country and visit some friends in the small city of Gent. It was very nice and it all started in EStonia ( ofcourse), let me explain.
My japanese and french friends whom i met in foundation course six years ago in London went to Estonia last summer for an art symposium and there they met some lovely people including a New York couple who own a sailors house in Gent looking out on the docks of the canal and there we stayed this weekend, whilst my friends prepared a little installation in their gallery:( an aqaurium with pink water, a light and bubbles, words, a turning record player and feathers ) I was there for moral support and played a few puppetshows in my breadbin for all the people at the opening , it was great fun , we ate lots of bean soup and drank lots of wine. I might be going to Winchester street theatre festival next summer as someones daughter there organizes it all. And just to add the cherry on the top it turned out that five people there knew sistar numero duE so it really is a small world ! All the top Gentse artists were there , walking round in their frilly arty knickers, getting haircuts under the street lamp and eating friet. So you can imagine it was a tough audience to please but i think i managed alright. Maybe my yellow kiwi offerings were a help, that i had bought at the seaside earlier that day ( its only 30 min. by train to the coast !) Indeed it was my first dip into the sea this year and it was quite fresh despite the 35 degrees. I paddled round in the dark green sea and then i fell asleep in the sand from one to two in the afternoon and woke up with a new body tattoo that consists of red arms and legs harmoniously melanged with white cream cheese buttocks and breasts: yes , very stylish and very stupid. Oh well , I am now recovering in the safe home of Brussels and preparing for more travels of this lovely part of the continent as next week i will be departing with a laughing friend to walk in the mountains of central France. So prepare yourselves for another thrilling episode from the memoirs of sistar three, coming your way very soon !
Keep cool ! By the way i learnt a Gentse expression and that is ¨boring¨ , you should say it after any phrase, action or answer and you will do really well. No, seriously, its true !
ciau !
numba three

Another thing to do while on nap watching duty in the hotel room.