Politics is the breeding ground of the snollygoster politician.
Such breeding ground is not new to the universe, having originated in biblical times; its tentacles reach all over the world, no countries excluded.
It is driven by greed; but worse, it is the lust of humanity to exercise power and control over fellow humans. It is the worst and most dangerous virus in the world, having killed more humans than any plague in history.
Via the fear of a virus pandemic, we have been blinkered from seeing the real killer virus – a global economy ruled by snollygosters!
“Sabrage/səˈbrɑːʒ/ is a technique for opening a champagne bottle with a Sabre, used for ceremonial occasions. The wielder slides the Sabre along the body of the bottle to break the top of the neck away, leaving the neck of the bottle open and ready to pour. The force of the blunt side of the blade hitting the lip breaks the glass to separate the collar from the neck of the bottle. One does not use the sharp side of the blade. The cork and collar remain together after separating from the neck.” Wikipedia
The origins of Sabrage are said to have come from Napoleon’s troops who received gifts of Champagne from people as they rode from their victory ground. They could not open the bottle with one hand on the reign and used their Sabre’s to dislodge the bottle tops.
Throughout history the simple rose, a beautiful fragrant flower, has been the source of much that has been written about life, love, beauty and fragrance.
Although the rose, like so much of nature’s gems, appears so defenseless against all of the elements of life, so easily crushed by these elements; roughly picked by less caring humans, she has a hardiness, known to many of her species, as they continue daily enduring to survive in their environment.
I was all of twenty years old and in love. We met at a Fabric Designers workshop and the moment my eyes gazed into hers, I knew I had reached heaven on earth.
She invited me to join her for a weekend getaway in the mountains, with her Fabric Designers Group.
At nineteen she was the youngest member, not outgoing, but with a warm inviting personality and quick affinity, which drew old and young to her. Her soft British accent with its quaint idiosyncrasies and expressions gave her added magnetism. She was pretty with full curly hair down to her shoulders and whilst men happily looked her way (too frequently for my liking) she booked no shallow talk nor nonsense. I saw beauty, warmth and strength wholly in one precious woman.
After all the joviality of meeting the group, we went off to our rooms. Amid romantic imaginings I drifted off to sleep. At about 2 am I woke up and could not go back to sleep. Dressing up warmly, (it was cool in the mountains.) decided to go for a walk.
Stepping out the front door and closing it as quietly as I could, I looked up to see a figure standing on the lawn – it was her! “Hello,” she whispered, “Trouble sleeping?” she continued. “Yes,” I stuttered, overwhelmed at seeing her.
“Follow me.” She instructed. Taking my hand, she led me to the bottom of the garden. Stopping, she turned and spoke softly into my ear. “Lie down and look up into the heavens.” Did I detect a huskiness in her voice?
We lay down, side by side and once again she took my hand. We gazed upwards. “Here in the mountains, in winter especially, you will view the universe with new eyes; this is because there is no unnatural light, as in the city.” She whispered.
We gazed at a most startlingly lucid vista of the firmament, with paling moon, stars of every shape and size, bright constellations everywhere. A shooting star flashed across the magnificent scene.
“Oh! She sighed, how resplendent, Isn’t it…? Everything so limitless, brilliant: the stars glittering, like diamonds in a transcendent pool. “
Deep within me, were strong feelings that sensed the pulsing of her hand as it held mine, the warm touch of her body alongside me. I longed to tell her of the resplendent heaven inside my heart, beating with an excitement, I had not experienced before. I longed to share my feelings with her but felt afraid to do so. “Maybe it was too early in our meeting, for me to open my heart so.” I reasoned.
“Are you enjoying this experience?” She turned to me.
“I am in a resplendent heaven, oh yes, I am. I could gaze at this magnificent scene forever” I responded in a voice too choked for my liking, as it fought its way past my impassioned emotion and did not allow me to add, “with you, beautiful lady”.
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Sylvia Rose’s Story is a series, published monthly. Why not start at Chapter One?
Things My Mother Taught Me
I am going to try and give you some insight into this amazing woman and the deep impact she has had on my life. I feel privileged to call her my Mom. Although we live in different countries, we speak every day. She has always been fiercely protective of her children. Nobody comes between my mother and her children, she is still like that today. She wasn’t scared to take on ANYONE if they hurt her babies. She would take on the principle for unfair punishment and treatment, to your ‘best friend’s’ mother for not taking good enough care of her angels at the friend’s house!
The butterfly greeted the caterpillar, “Come let us fly”, warily the caterpillar replied, “Alas, I cannot fly, for I am a caterpillar”. “Hast a caterpillar wings”? The butterfly mocked. ”Of a truth you are no longer a caterpillar, but rather a butterfly. Come, let us fly…”