Category Archives: Circle of Friends

My delightful friends who share my life.

Of friends and flowers

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image via the web

What a delightful feeling it is, and how heartwarming! Yes, getting together with friends.

Whether the friends are from school or college, or even newly-made friends, time spent with them is so precious!

Having a cup of tea or coffee whilst chatting with them is simply lovely…and relaxing.

Ah, friends – even the blogger chums – I value them tremendously.

Each friend has a story to tell…

Their tales are woven in the rich tapestry of life. They are the sunshine that appears after stormy weather.

They are the comforting balm to heal our troubles.

They are the warm hug that says, “You’re going to be all right.”

They are the giggles after a tempest.

Their gentle touch is like magic, fairy dust sprinkled upon us.

They console us by telling us, wisely, that: “It’s water under the bridge, so stop worrying!”

They are the wink that tells us that a secret has just been shared…

Even my blogger friends add charm to the beautiful life.

They are across oceans and miles apart, but contact with them adds glitter and sparkle.

What diversity.. I love reading their various posts – especially when chocolate is involved!

Cheers for the friends I have. I truly value their presence in my life.

I embrace their vitality, wisdom and reassurance, together with the fun and laughter… Yes, I certainly do!

As someone once said: “Friends are flowers in the Garden of Life.”

God bless!

PS. Right, now kindly excuse me, I must skedaddle back to my coffee and chit-chat. Only the heavens know what all ‘gossie-wossie‘  vital information I have missed! 😉

 

Maloquacious © 2014

 

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The name of the game – ‘Slice and Dice’

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Okay, folks, a couple of weeks back, I had a most interesting weekend. And I thought I would share it with you…..

Sunday sees me wake up at the usual time…..at the crack of dawn, 12 noon to be exact. No. I tell a lie.

As I take a sip of my morning cuppa, my cell phone rings. I answer it. It is my bestie. To protect her identity let us call her ‘George Clooney’. Oops! So ‘my bestie’ she is not. No. I tell another lie.

“Hey there, Mal, I just woke up (yeah, yeah, as they say ‘birds of a feather…’) and I thought we’d go watch a movie. Something interesting, an adventure with action, you know the usual blah-blah-blah, Mal. So see you soon.”

I say, “Fine,” as I take a delicate bite of the buttered croissant, “and I’ll be ready as soon as you are, Clooney darling!”

We hang up.

As predicted, she “soon” arrives, on the dot – after two hours. *eye roll*

Driving towards the cinema, she tells me about the movie she’s selected. “Oh, you’ll deffo like this one, Mal, I read that it’s a thriller and keeps one riveted to their seat!” GC enlightens me, her eyes shining bright with excitement.

This time we are to see ‘her’ movie because last time we watched my choice. Needless to say, ’twas a really bad choice. I concluded it was: “Horrible!” whilst dear Clooney declared, very kindly (yeah, at times, she can be quite nice), “Nah, it wasn’t that bad, Mal, the cinematography was brill!”

So, after purchasing two big small bags of caramel popcorn, drinks water and nachos, we ease ourselves into the nice and comfy seats.

Lights dim, darkness reigns and the movie begins.

Movie begins, darkness reigns and the lights dim.

Yes, my dear friends, the whole movie consisted of dark, drab, very dimly lit scenes. …And raging emotions…insane violence…gore…blood…sweat and stink…guns and knives…blood and gore. Plenty of it. Please note – Plenty as in muchas and muchas. Oh, yes, and severed limbs. …do you get the picture? What?? Fainted?! *shock*

Most of the time, naturally, I keep my eyes focused on the floor. I just cannot bear to see the senseless carnage shown and cannot even stomach the blood-curdling screams that resound in the darkness, all projected from the big screen.

In addition, I observe that I am not the only one to react this way. I take a surreptitious look at GC. Her mouth is agape; eyebrows touching the lofty heavens and eyes, all teary. Her right hand, in a mid-air pose, with fingers clasping sticky popcorn bits. The left hand covers her mouth, as if stifling the scream. (Yeah, eat your heart out, Edvard Munch).

To make matters worse, the ending of the movie (methinks, it’s utterly inconclusive) is left hanging, high up in the exosphere….somewhere way,way above everyone’s heads. Bewilderment. Disbelief. What a rotten anticlimax! *grimace*

We hear the lady in front of us inform her partner, “Oh my God, if it ends here, I’ll kill myself!”

Clooney and I quickly dash out. We both cannot endure another killing.

Clooney avoids eye contact. Stern-faced and in silence, and after a quick scan of the backseat (empty, phew), we sit in the car, lock the doors firmly and drive home.

Yes, GC had wanted to watch an adventure movie – that she certainly did. And I did too. Sigh. We were totally gob-smacked by the sheer scale of the morbid imagination. Awfully disgusted we were (and, also, a wee bit depressed).

Then and there, we decided to meditate…inhale, exhale and some happy thoughts later, felt a whole lot better – and, of course, all prepared (and energised) to face our next movie adventure experience.

Name of the movie? According to moi, the title should have been ‘Slice and Dice’ because that was the name of the game so brutally and graphically shown.. Stop! *Mal, think PEACE* …Breathe.

PS. To play safe, we now both check under beds.

 

 

Maloquacious © 2014

Jambo! … Greetings!

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 Jambo!’ greeted Wambui, our lovely friend from the beautiful land of Kenya. (Jambo means ‘Greetings’ in Swahili).

Wambui recently returned from East Africa. We had missed her greatly for she was an integral part of our group. She’d add fun and liveliness to our discussions and debates; excitement and hilarity to our various outings.

True, life was certainly more interesting and enjoyable when she was around.

We now sat with her, happy to be in her presence; embracing her vivacious spirit and taking in her love, warmth and charm. Whenever she spoke, her exquisitely beaded braids bounced upon her head, and the artistic brass/copper African bangles merrily jangled about on her delightfully tanned arms.

Wambui was a dynamic personality, exuding integrity, dignity and self-respect. Having travelled half the world, she was an encyclopaedia of views, news and information. And we loved her so!

‘Ooh, I do love this kiondo, darling!’ exclaimed Mildred, with a sparkle in her eyes, as she held up the pretty sisal-woven basket. With shades of pretty pinks and perfect purples, it sported a silver lion-shaped clasp and had light brown leather shoulder straps.

Wambui’s traditional Kenyan gifts of beaded mats, carved wooden figurines and the ever-popular African masks proved a tremendous hit. How we cherished them! Indeed, we accepted them heartily, but protested—albeit, a wee bit mildly—that she had done far too much! Giggle.

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Mr Mildred RIP

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‘What’s wrong with her?’ Roxanne asks, as we ring the door bell. We are stood outside Mildred’s house.

That morning she had called up to ask us over. ‘And bring Weedy with you,’ she tells me, referring (rather rudely) to Roxanne, a mutual (skinny) friend, who is known to relish her waistline and salads (and in that order, if you please).

Personally, I’d say she’s undernourished, but then that’s the double choco-caramel in me talking.

I answer her with a quick ‘Don’t know.’ This time, I knock sharply on the door.

We hear footsteps. Clickety-click, clickety-click. Yes, that’s her.

The door opens. Mildred stands there. Her eyes are red and puffy. I can sense Weedy…oops, sorry, Roxanne, take a step back, in alarm, fearing the worst.

Despite her keep-fit keenness, she’s still a diehard pessimist. The red alert feelers warn her—conjunctivitis! However, forever the optimist, I step forward.

Old Red Eyes suddenly begins to snivel, and out comes her lace, embroidered handkerchief. She dabs at the tears and hiccups a sob.

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Mildred madness at the mall…

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For me, shopping is a pleasurable task. It’s relaxing and peaceful, it goes as planned. Or that’s what I thought till I went to the mall with Mildred. Oh dear me!

It happened last week, when a sunny afternoon beckoned me outdoors. At first, I resisted, but the temptation was too much. Minutes later, chirping birds and the clear blue sky welcomed me as I stepped out the front door.

Shutting the garden gate with a gentle click, I turned and suddenly knocked into my dear friend Mildred. Oops! Her handbag (designer, remember?) fell on the ground.

‘And where are we going in such a hurry?’ she enquired (note the uppity lingo), as she picked up her bag and reached up to smooth her light brown, streaked curls. For with each nod, her curly locks did a defiant bounce on her head, as if in agreement with whatever Fate had planned.

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Eat your grass, weeds and all…

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‘You know, that’s not good for you,’ I hear as I bite into the chocolate crème éclair…mmm, heaven!

I simply ignore the (ominous?) words, and carry on. Relishing each second spent on my luscious crème pastry, I pick at the crumbs left on the plate like a hungry bird zealously pecking till the last grain. Then, I turn to look at my friend.

Dressed in candy pink garbs, Roxanne matches the pink roses decorated on the small round table in the quaint coffee shop. An expression of incredulity is visible on her pretty face.

With eyebrows raised, mouth agape, she stares at me, and once again, exclaims, ‘God! Do you know how many calories you’ve just gulped down?’

‘Firstly,’ I begin, easing back into the cushioned wooden chair, ‘I hate to disappoint you, Roxanne, but I’m not God. And secondly, it is very rare that I indulge myself in such sweet luxuries.’ True.

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To slurp or not to slurp…

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Slurp. There I am thoroughly enjoying my hot mug of tea when there’s a sudden knock at the door. A sharp rat-a-tat-tat. Ah, recognition. It’s Mildred, the neighbour from across the road. She’s one lady I like to call a sophisti-cat. Always well dressed, well spruced, but hardly well informed. The poor dear.

Kiss, kiss she mwahs and settles herself on the couch. Hugging the cushion with her well manicured nails, she purrs, ‘So, darling, what have you been up to?’

‘Nothing much,’ I mumble.

‘What do you mean by ‘nothing’? There’s so much to do. Go shopping, have a pedicure, splash out on an expensive perfume, yet better still, buy a bit of jewellery!’ she adds with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

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