December 5, 2014 in Uncategorized
I don’t want to be a little grey man; I want to be a rooikat.
Can anyone explain in simple language what I must do?
December 5, 2014 in Uncategorized
On the previous blogging platform I could view a post and also see all the comments that had been made on it on the same screen. (or by scrolling down if there were more than filled a screen) So, the comments and the post had some sort of connection and a ‘conversation’ could be had with the writer of the comment
On this platform I haven’t been able to establish if this can be done; it seems to me that all comments seem to exist in a vacuum, unrelated to the post which prompted their writing.
How can I see the posts and comments together and conduct these old type conversations on this platform?
February 18, 2013 in Uncategorized
. . . I don’t care.
It’s just that . . . ah . . . excuses excuses that’s all we hear from Rooikat these days. How difficult he’s finding this new site to work on . . . how he’s run out of ideas for posts . . . how he’s been busy doing other things.
I’ve established that writing posts is a habit.
If you get out of it, the words come slowly. Ideas about what to write shrivel up and then there’s nothing to say. Or so it seems.
But, if you are in the swing of things everything flows easily and you can say whatever is in your mind.
Providing, of course that there is something in there in the first place.
November 21, 2012 in Uncategorized
I was talking of dreaming.
Paris, the city was the topic of conversation. I don’t mind dreaming of Paris, as little as I know of it after a visit of only 3 days. What a happy visit that was, even if my feet nearly fell off from all the walking. Oh yes, I walk around here quite a lot, but that could never prepare me for being on my feet for twelve hours. With a short rest for a coffee and croissant here and there every now and then!
And then there was Paris, the girl.
I have never, with one exception, dreamt of a girl I know. Not even one that I don’t know, but whom I admire. So, dreams are a figment of the imagination, not to be taken seriously. Because if I took them that way, life would be much too complicated. Ever since I resolved on this, my dreams have improved and I quite look forward to going to sleep to see what is going to happen during the hours of shut eye.
Usually it’s nothing I remember.
October 24, 2012 in Uncategorized
Well, sort of!
Sunny that is – even if there are people who think I only sort of live!
There is one difference that I noted in the way rain falls in this country and the way it falls in France. Here it pelts down like a demented freak. In France it falls gently out of the sky, but if you have a modest sized umbrella, you can get away without getting wet.
That is, in the three days that I was in France. But then, perhaps, I was so intrigued at seeing all the wonderful sights and enjoying all the magnificent buildings and history that I didn’t notice getting wet. It is, generally the sort of thing one would notice. After all, we are not designed to live in the water. Even if skin is waterproof . . . for a while. I don’t know how long it takes for skin to start leaking, but I should imagine that most of us would be past caring at that stage.
I can see that this post isn’t really going anywhere, so I will sign off and carry on dreaming of Paris.
The town or the girl, it makes little difference. As long as the girl is pretty, that is.
September 20, 2012 in Uncategorized
You plant the seed. Yes, it is a deliberate act. You choose the place, carefully having decided that it is a worthy one.
Then you nurture it and it starts to grow. And like the seed of a tree it first sends out a tentative shoot from the ground. The tree gets bigger and some branches start from the main trunk.
You carry on with the nurturing process and then the branches develop twigs which could later on become smaller branches.
In the meantime the tree grows and gives shelter to many things; it becomes big and beautiful. People see it and comment on it, perhaps; if they don’t comment they might admire it and respect it in silence.
It is love.
September 18, 2012 in Uncategorized
Hey, and by that I do not mean one advanced in chronological years. I mean one that has been a friend for a long time. Well, as long as I have been on the blogs, of course.
And then there was a nice warm feeling when someone who fits that description sent a message to say, will you be my friend?
You better believe I will.
Monday is the day on which I take to the skies.
And then it will be another three weeks and a bit before I’m back. But as the man said;
‘I’ll be back!’
September 7, 2012 in Uncategorized
. . . . family in London soon.
What excitement, as I have never seen one member. Pictures yes, but what is the use of a picture? It gives you some sort of idea what someone looks like, but nothing of that person’s texture. No feel of their skin or hair. Or the way their eyes crinkle when they smile.
Then when I return it’s a case of getting back to the serious business of writing stuff.
There are two stories buzzing in my brain . . . ha ha ha , yes, I do claim to have one, such as it is. For these I have to determine the order of events and then the order in which they are shown to the reader.
I have a little notebook. One with a map of London printed on its cover. The south end of Regent’s Park, the north east end of Hyde Park and Gray’s Inn Gardens are all on the edge of the cover. I think I’ll need a bit more than that though. And the details of the Underground, that famous map, the style of which has been copied wherever there is an underground railway system.
And also, I have tow work out the best way of using this blogging system. Not so easy for a techno-peasant!
August 27, 2012 in Uncategorized
. . . . will that pesky Rooikat come out of hibernation?
As the storms rage, lashing hail onto the lawn and sending cold seeping into bones and all the other nooks and crannies, the Rooikat snuggles deeper into all the warm stuff.
Jerseys, hotties, fleecies etc etc.
But it’s becoming warmer. An impulse reached the brain. An idea formulated.
A new novel is born.
Now get the plot down onto a piece of paper and start writing . . . .
Write . . . . . write . . . . write . . . .