16 May 2008

Natural disaster

On her way home, Impa saw a small natural disaster unfold. Quite impressive at first site: a heron skimming the cycle path right in front of you. But in the brief moment it passed over my head, flapping its wings, I also saw what it was really doing. Flying from pond to pond like that, a few metres above the ground. It can't fool me.



How. I ask you. HOW do I sleep in my soft little bed tonight after having witnessed this unscrupulous force of nature? And what will become of the neighbourhood?

What nature did get right, however, was a very handsome and very blond young guy in his early twenties with a very charming smile, who'd also seen the whole thing happening. ('I heard something was going on *points towards the other 16 chicks and a drake quacking away* but then it was already too late.') He was so shocked, I had a little chat with him before he had the time to realise that having chats with 34-year-old women isn't good for your image as a cool dude. Excellent, how in the end there's a certain kind of justice to nature.

8 May 2008


As she put away the speculum and took off her rubber gloves, my GP referred to my cervix as 'Beautiful' and 'Splendid'.
Just so you know.

7 May 2008

Impa doesn't get the joke

I can hear someone roar down the corridor. I'm used to it, but still flinch briefly. I work at a company that's in full business when most people are still dead to the world. In summer, the black sky just starts turning blue when I drive to work, but in winters my job is almost done by the time it's light out. The corridors are empty, the nine-to-five deskworkers haven't arrived yet. Not all the lights are switched on. Warm cups of coffee get the body going. The brain is in top gear to perform in what the biorhythm clearly defines as night. The world is still asleep.

Those who are there, have made it into an art to shout each other's names on the top of their voices every time they pass each other in the corridor. I know I don't always get what people seem to think is so funny about stuff, but surely this time I can't be the only one who doesn't get the joke? Unless it's the fact they've been keeping it up for years now. Because I have to admit that's what secretly makes me smile sometimes. In spite of my annoyance. For a bloody nuisance it is.