Patricia?

Long ago, James Clarke cemented himself properly into the mosaic of my soul’s fountain when he advised (in his Stoep Talk column) on how to deal with telemarketers.

It goes like this: you gather up your best honeyed tones and say something along the lines of, Yes, how wonderful! Could you hold on just a moment while I let the dog in/close the door/turn the radio off? You leave the phone off the hook and go finish your supper. They will hold the line for absolutely ages, I’ve even tested it by going back after 5 minutes and saying, so sorry, don’t go away, be with you in a moment. They’re patient and determined. They will hold. These are genuine people just doing their job of course, at least (surely?) for the most part not the vivisectionists or kitten-drowners we suppose them to be. On a good day one could even imagine that they busy themselves on the other end with embroidery, or sudoku, or emery boards. Fzzzht fzzzht, yes I’m still here yes I’ll hold. It’s nice to be on the power end of that please-hold thing for once, you know? I have whiled away many a pleasant hour like this. If there’s no one else around then I draw the curtains and treat myself to a sort of tiptoe toyi-toyi crossed with an air guitar solo, complete with theatrical soundless guffawing and gesturing with fingers at the receiver, and that’s also quite nice although it isn’t ladylike.

Since I haven’t been able to get hold of Ms Lewis, and since today is supposed to be the day that we find out who the winner of the Silvery Tay Poetry Competition is, I must assume that for some terrible reason she might not be available after all. So if we don't have a winner by midnight tonight I’m going to to ask Mr Clarke to stand in for her, because 1. I don’t think anyone’s ever given him the chance to wear tumbling blonde tresses and nine inch nails before and that’s kind of unfair, 2. He needs to practice the Wearing of the Lycra for the upcoming Tour De Farce in Spain, 3. He knows Pomes and, 4. At worst he could only say no but if he did he’d do it very kindly because he knows who my dad is.

Wish me luck!

P.S. This will of course mean that we might have to wait a couple more days to find out who the winner is.

The Absolute Absurdity of Carbon Dioxide Shortages in SA’s Beverage Industry

Item 1. God Bles Ms Lewis

Oh, frabjous day! The Lovely Ms Lewis is to be the first ever Judge of The Silvery Tay Poetry Competition! Here’s what she said:

“Dear Sivlery Tay
I heard about this on www.blondextenshuns.co.fu, and am delighted to inform you that I would LUV to be the judge on your poem competition. No one's ever asked me me this before and I was beginning to wonder why. In, fact, I'm prepared to put the winning poem to music for my next konsert - A Tribute to Bles - to be held at the Krugersdorp jukskei stadium in March.
Stay in touch.
Lovies
Patricia”

Isn’t that wonderful? I just knew this year was going to be all filled with pink and purple and stars and puppies!


Item 2. Oh, Woe

A pernicious condition of the universe has made it impossible for me and a keyboard, never mind internet access, to be in the same place at the same time for long enough to hit send or publish, for some time now. But I did it I did it, although now I’m off again and it’ll be a good three more weeks ‘till I get my planets back in a row. Then I’ll give a super-sizzling Account of it all. I think.