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Good morrow, one and all!

So, the last few months have been rather trying.  My family and I shared the loss of Opa Waagenaar and recently found out one branch of the family is now trying to cause kakkies.  Not nice.

A week after Opa passed away, I had the personal loss of a friend from KZN who was taken up for breathing problems (he had pneumonia) and passed away a few hours later.  Really not nice.

My plans for my own wheels has had to be pushed back after we had to dig into the savings to survive the month - even with a boost in salary living is hard, and we don't even live extravagantly.  I'm trying to learn desperately how to live with spending less, but the moment I manage that something else pops up that needs to be taken care of.  Foo-rus-too-rei-ting-goo!

Anyway.  On the major plus sides:  We all remember Opa in a good light and have some amazing memories of him and Oma.

When it comes to Colin, even though we didn't communicate all that much, when we did it was good to catch up.  We never had the world's deepest friendship, but it was important to me.

I didn't lose the other friendship I had feared to, but it has changed, and I think for now it was a necessary change.  We're both too set in certain things and dealing with our own internal stuff.  Taking things slower - even though this isn't an accurate description - gives us an opportunity to learn about each other from a different, less freaked out point of view.  But this is as much as I'll say on this.

We have food in the fridge.  If things look a bit lean in other areas, we can at the very least feed ourselves.

We have a roof over out heads.  We aren't sleeping under a bridge.

I can SMILE!!  Gods, there have been times where I'd have preferred to slit my wrists and just give up, but the thing is, I like smiling too much, and talking kak with friends and family and going to the beach and cuddling in rainy weather and and and.  If I'd slit my wrists I'd have missed out on these few things and then tons of others.  The smell of a cold morning, Bob looking all cute, watching Gizmo sleep on the foot of the bed, pasta, Trinity sneaking into the room...  The list just goes on!

All of this being said, this still isn't completely what I'm trying to express and the way I feel.

The most basic thing this boils down to is the following:

I'm sorry I'm not going to be there for anyone, or make any commitments or catch myself in any obligations or agree to anything I don't want to agree to for the next while.  I don't know how long this is going to last.  I do know that I have been floating around from one thing and person and idea for faaaaaaaaar too long, and not really dealing with anything I'm supposed to deal with.  In other words, myself.  I've been putting things off or ignoring them.  This ends now, even if it means I seem to cut myself off from other people and seem to become emotionally unavailable or appear to change into a stranger.  Maybe becoming this stranger is just the thing I need to Become.

I can only know once it happens....

What I dream of sometimes and how it affects me...

Hello, all!

So, those who know my ins and outs know I travel to work on the MyCiti bus from Table View, and I get to Table View with my husband who drops me off at either the Circle East stop or the Wood Drive stop if the driver is a bit earlier or I'm running a bitty late.

Anyhoo...

I like dozing on the bus, especially on these early morning trips, and was reminded again Monday morning I can actually doze sitting straight up.  I was quite an enlightening thing to rediscover.

So, during my doze the other day I somehow started dreaming of my tics, specifically The Hic, and how they annoy people.  I still remember dreaming that sometimes it gets so much that people react to it, and in my dream the memory was of a rhinoid passenger on the bus head-butting me.  Yoh, that horn, though...

So, I wake up and in reaction to the dream I start looking for the rhinoid passenger and the giraffoid that sat next to him/her (???).  It took me a few moments to realise it had been a dream, but when I did, I had to hold back from piddling myself with laughter.

Since then, the idea of rhinos wearing glasses has refused to leak from my cranium.  It is such an overpowering thought it affected my ability to type on a client's account and I almost left an interaction note with JUST the word "rhino" on the record, and those notes can't be removed.

Ever.

How do people know rhinos' eyes are bad?  How did they get them to sit still to test them?  Once that was achieved, why aren't rhinos wearing glasses?  Maybe it'd help them target their own poachers a bitty better...

(Image not owned by me, go to https://www.etsy.com/listing/121829522/smart-rhino-wearing-glasses-print for details

My heroes in life

Over the last few days I've thought out, typed and re-typed this post in various forms.  Each paragraph I've put into words has had something lacking, of I've found myself digressing from the message I'm trying to get across and then have a total Adventure Time moment (fans of this American cartoon will know exactly what I'm talking about...)

So I'm going to try and simplify it and take it piece by piece and, hopefully, not stray too far from what I'm trying to say here tonight.

(Please keep in mind:  focusing for any long period of time is difficult for me and I tend to fidget; when I'm typing my hands are occupied and I've found me mind taking over the fidgeting if I don't keep a hold on this.  So, I really do apologise if something I'm typing doesn't immediately make sense.)

Growing up we have different heroes depending on our moods or stages of life itself.  When I was five my hero was Superman and Bravestarr; the power of flight and the ability to take on different animals' strongest aspects has always appealed to me and even now, I find myself watching the Bravestarr movie just because I can.  Superman has the Justice League and now, among them, I have no favourite heroes - they all are.

When I got a bit older and started reading and getting into history I found a new set of heroes:  Bast, or Bastet, out of the Egyptian pantheon was almost a Patroness to me, with her sister-aspect Sekhmet; Sobek with his crocodile smile; Ra with his ability so see all.  After st.5 this expanded and included the Tuatha de Danann, the Irish pantheon, as well.

Even now, as an adult now longer in their twenties, my list of heroes grows and changes and I find myself respecting each of these figure for the different aspects they represent.

However, as much as I enjoy my mythological and pop-culture heroes, I have a few sets of very real heroes in my "real" life as well.

(If I don't mention you, please understand it isn't anything against you; everyone I know helps me in some way.)

Amongst my friends, I have The Boys. The Old Man has (accidentally) made a name for himself, and yet not once let that actually go to his head.  If needs be, he can honestly list his accomplishments, both chosen and assumed, and then in the next breath breach a bottle of wine, grab a box of smokes and drag you outside to empty the bottle (and maybe the next few) with him.  Chappies, his husband, loves cooking and baking.  I've had some of the most amazing experimental dishes of my life with this man and between us we can always find something to talk about in the culinary fields, whether it is a new recipe, something one or both of us want to try, or his elves and dragons and our shared love of calligraphy (although since we had to move out of the house I've let my calligraphy slip badly).  These two are humble and I really learn a lot from them, in terms of life experiences and the way to handle certain situations with style.

Then there's Honey.  Goddess knows how many hours the two of us have "wasted" just sitting talking kak until the off hours of the morning.  One of the prime examples is when we went to a rural town during the last few months of I think 2014 and we had to sleep in the car as the lady we were visiting was having the floor in her house redone and there literally wasn't a surface for us to sleep on.  We lay in the car's seats talking 'til almost half past one in the morning before I passed out, but we heard this really loud cricket under the car at one point and both started talking at once.  The image we both conjured up was that of a really buff cricket standing right outside my window.  Now, when I say buff, see in your mind's eye a bug.  Four arms and moerse long antennae standing on two muscular legs at a almost seven feet tall and a jutting jaw.  It took us half an hour to calm down.  I've learnt from her to relax and say what I need to say when I feel the need to say it.  I've also learnt that not everything needs to simply be accepted as rote and there are definitely times when running away from something is a good idea...

In my family I have Auntie Cobra.  We've had out head-butting sessions and one or two screaming matches, but we've always bounced back.  She's always there and will help where she can, even at times it seems to her own detriment.  She really doesn't like too many people in her space, but whenever someone has needed it she's thrown open her doors and cleared out a space for them.  I'm unable to do the same, but I want to be able to help wherever I can.

Then there's Tande.  Tande has always done what could be done to make out lives better, even if it meant we couldn't see each other as much as we wanted.  Then, when I was going through a really bad patch living on my own, earning a really measly salary, Tande helped me out almost the entire time with a few rands here, a few there, and if I really got stuck a few extra.  I'm still trying to convince him to let me pay him back, but up until now I haven't even manged to get a "maybe" out of him.  From him, I have learnt steadfastness and calm.

Next, is Silver.  Silver has really tried to make a plan when things went sideways.  Even sometimes without physically doing anything, just moving on and adapting to the situation when most people would have buckled.  I have seen this woman go through some really sticky times and then laugh them off, often literally.  At times she's been in serious sh**, then gone somewhere on some commitment and nobody had any idea, because she's taken their sh** and made them forget it without even mentioning her own.  She does her fair share of talking about it, but the next thing you know she spins some story and people around her are often none the wiser.  Silver handles her stuff herself and always finds a way to make a situation work.  From Silver I have learnt adaptability and how to "speak" to people.

My last hero on this list is probably my most relevant right now, and ten to one will be for a very long time.

Oxford and I started dating, in a very strange sense, I might add, six months after meeting and chatting online.  We spoke for six months before we met and suddenly BOOM!  I found myself with a boyfriend that never once actually asked me out in the real sense of the word.  We started going out and I was at the house he shared with his folks six nights out of seven.  We had a hiccup where we were "informally" together for a year and a half because of kak that had to be dealt with.  It was a few months after we were "officially" back together that he asked me to marry him and I accepted.

We went on with our lives as they had bee, seeing each other when we could, usually over weekends at that stage, and not really talking about how we would one day have our nuptials.  From March to September 2014 I was doing admin at the college and Oxford and I got to see each other a bit more often.  October of that year came and I was appointed to the position I have now, meaning that I had to move in with Oxford.  At this stage we'd been going out for six years, but this was the first time we'd actually shared a living space.

It wasn't six months later that we moved into a flat on the same property of the house Silver was living in.  Oxford had at this time lost his job in Table View and while he was looking for something else he played houseman, cleaning, cooking and shopping while I was at work during the day.  Another six months later we moved into the main house and he continued his role of houseman, even when he got the job as a newspaper carrier and then started working with Crusty doing network installations.  Our lease with the house was ended seven months after we moved into it and we had to move back in with Oxford's parents.  He continued his role as houseman even when he often only got home some nights after 7:00.

Four months later, on a Tuesday evening, I had decided I'd had enough.  I phoned up the marriage officer I'd been put in contact with for me to start planning our handfasting.  I asked her if she had a spot before the weekend and on the evening of 30 September 2016 Oxford and I signed the paperwork that made us legal spouses.

(We are still planning a proper handfasting, but have had people telling me they don't want to come to the second-hand ceremony, or somesuch.  Please, guys, that night in September was just for the legal stuff).

Anyway.

Oxford became my legal spouse that night and I have not been an easy person to be around at times.  I moan and I complain and I can make a lot of noise.  I also have the tendency to get annoyed with little things, things I wouldn't do myself, but Oxford does, and I take this out on him.  I have my really dark days where I want to say and do nothing and then Oxford just sits there and does nothing with me.

The list can go on.

What I'm trying to say is that through all of this Oxford has been there and although he moans and complains about having to take me somewhere sometimes (like the bus-stop at 5:00 am, or directly to work over weekends), he has stuck it out.  He has been calm when I went coocookachoo, told me to go for or do something I wanted even when I felt we had other responsibilities and been the crazy I needed when I felt things weren't working out at that moment.  Not to even mention the stuff he's done for me when I've been sick with bronchitis or pneumonia.

So, my greatest hero right now:  My husband.  Just for being mine right now.

All good things to those who phone

Mah wed, it's been a while, hasn't it?

So much has happened in that while that I'm not always sure where I stand with things.  While this does seem generate questions like, "Why not?" or "What's wrong in your head?", or even, "O...kaaayyy...", the fact of the matter is that I've been so busy at work the last few months that I haven't been able to actually stop and look at the world around me.  I'm only now finally reaching a point where I can slow down and start noticing things, but with the process having been so involved over the last few months, I know it'll still be another few months before I can finally say, wow, I'm now totally in the swing of things, man!

Woodly-oodly-woohoo!!

Don't ask.  Just... don't.

So, with this being January 2015 by the Gregorian Calendar, some things had to change end of last year for this year to do what I want it to do.

So, da leest stahts off:

1. After a long and rather shameful emotional battle with myself, I accepted that I have depression.  However, I am taking steps to working with / against it so that, as long as possible, I can avoid the medical bandwagon that involves pills or other treatment.  So far I've been doing really well, so, Self- and Goddess-willing, I will beat this beeyotch.
2. As a part of this self-treatment, I've restarted my entire Second Degree training.  That means I'm dong everything again, with the new class, from Module 1, assignments and tests, etc., all included.  Some would see that as a step back, but I felt I needed to do this if I want to become a proper priest and not just some sort of title-holder.
3. I'm reading again, which took much less emotional and time-finaggling than I thought it would.  It helps that I have a tablet with an e-reader programme on it.  I got something like 100 or so books from two of my friends that I am slowly working my way through.  I LOVE IT!!
4. As part of a side progect to expand my horizons, I sent in and was accepted by Bee Recruitment to fill a client services post at Media 24.  Although there are days when I wonder what I'm doing here, and I still make some really silly mistake, I love my work here.  I still struggle with anything financial, but the actual client services part of it all is really quite rewarding.
5. Near the beginning of October, the week before I started my training at M24, I finally moved in with Julian and his family.  Mostly him, since I don't really mix with the rest of the family.  Make no mistake, I love them all to bits, but I'm a homebody, so if there's no need or desire for me to leave my nest, I don't.  Deal with it :P
6. I'm making myself take an interest in the lives of those around me.  I don't usually not have an interest, but I;m trying to make more of an effort to try and associate with people more than books or old movies.  This also means that, as of the end of this month, I'll start reading my cards actively again instead of through some form of pressure or as part of a social gathering.  I've half not missed my cards, and as a tarotist, that feeling is really strange.

This is just some of the stuff that's going on right now.  So, with that in mind, I'm kicking of 2015 with a slightly-less-than-upbeat-but-hopefully-still-meaningful blog entry and saying, guys, let's go and make 2015 our bitch.

The ritual of rolling a... well, a rollie

I'm going to start off this post with some very good news:  I'm employed!

I started working at a beauty and make-up design school on Tuesday (01/4/2014) and though it's been dead quiet, what with the holidays only finishing up today, it's been good to be somewhere and doing something to keep me mostly busy and earning for it.

Now, as the title suggests, this blog is actually about rolling a hand-rolled cigarette (with the aid of a rolling canvas, because let's be honest, being skeef means my rollies come out even skewer than me).

I'm going to reiterate that smoking is incredibly bad for one's health.  I am fully aware of this.  I also know that the damage done by cigarettes often takes years for the body to repair once one has kicked the habit, and with all these tar filters and goeters on the market I am fully aware of the different things (besides the smoke itself) that cause the damage.  I've seen and heard enough horror stories about what the damage is, too.

On the other hand, some people derive a benefit from smoking (maybe one in every 1,000-2,000) and are often warned by their doctors that stopping will either result in serious health issues.  Some asthmatics, for instance, immediately find relief when they start smoking, and switching over to menthol cigarettes has been found to benefit these smokers even more than the often chronic medicines they have to use.

Go figure.

For me, it's something to be enjoyed socially or after a hectic day, or even just for a few minutes' relaxation.  Yes, I reckon that does count as a form of addiction, but I can also honestly say that I smoke much less than most other people I know, and it's getting even less as the days go by.  Yay me!

So, when I started smoking on a regular basis I found that normal "box" cigarettes tended to dry out my throat, leaving me hacking and sneezing and running after glass after glass of liquid.  I also found myself paying anything from R 30 to almost R 40 for a box of twenties every two to three days - once it was two days immediately after another, and I'm still on the low end of the "cigarette consumer scale".  As a result I went back to my original smoking favourites:  loose tobacco and flavoured leaves.

Fruit is such an amazing thing to flavour with, and one can even use essential oils to flavour plain tobacco, but basically tobacco is flavoured by the addition of fruit syrups (okkah tobac is a very good example), by storing it in the same container as a scented medium (such as a bottle of mint oil, opened, in the same box as plain tobac) or by the addition of oils directly to the tobac.  I'm not sure how it works (the internet's a bit slow tonight, so I'm blowing steam), but most tobac companies use what is called a tobacco infuser to flavour their products.

When I say "leaves", I don't mean uncut tobac or banana leaves such as are used on the really high end or imported tobac products, but the paper used to roll the cigarette.  Many companies offer smokers the option of flavoured rolling leaves for their rollies, ranging in flavour from plain chocolate to honey, coconut to liquorice and even assorted fruit flavours (I once tried the grape one with vanilla tobac - WOW!)  They're made of the type of paper as money, but instead of using cotton plants they use - wait for it - HEMP!  Yes, hemp, the same family of plants to which everyone's favourite green herb (liar, liar, robes on fire...) belongs.  But, since it's made from the stripped stem of the plant and not those always highly suspect leaves or flowers, there's no TCH present in the paper itself.  That means, either happily or sadly, depending on which way you swing, that you won't have any of those effects for which hemp (cannabis /marijuana/ dagga) reportedly imparts to its smokers.

Now, to the actual rolling of the rollie.

You need four things:

1. Your tobac (plain or flavoured, whichever you're smoking or prefer.  I smoke Black Bob's Vanilla or very occasionally Cherry)
2. Your filters (unless you have cowboy lungs)
3. Your lighter, and finally
4. Your canvas roller.  It's a little device made of canvas run over two movable bars that you load with filter, tobac and leaf and then actually make your rollie with.

When I'm really into it, I really do turn this into a little meditation ritual all on its own.  You can start by breathing slowly and setting your "Four Tools" out in front of you, randomly or in some kind of OCD-inspired arrangement.  You then pick up your roller, open it and place it directly in front of you.  Take out a filter and place it in the roller (I like starting on the left, as in Western Calligraphy).  Replace the packet of filters and pick up your tobac pouch, or tin if you've gone Moonshadow's route.  Take out a nice pinch of the tobac and, bit by bit, layer it into the canvas cradle of the roller.  Take your time with this, even if you're at a party.  This is a meditative exercise and should be treated with some respect (even if it's only a little bit).

Once you've got an amount of tobac laid nicely into the cradle, close the roller.  Most simple designs only involve pushing one of the rolling pieces towards the other and letting it clip into place; my Smoking Brand one actually has a flap that closes over the tobac to hold it in place.  Whichever one you have, keep an eye on how easily it closes and how much tobac sticks out from between the two bars.  If it closes with difficulty or there's quite a bit of tobac sticking out, open it up again (slowly, please, you don't want to drop your creation and start over) and take some of the tobac out, little by little, closing and reopening the roller until it closes smoothly and little or no tobac sticks out.

You then need to test the rolling action.  Pull the canvas on the little bar closest to your body towards you.  It should stick only a little bit when you start it, and then roll smoothly.  Give it three or four rolls, then turn it sideways to check your filter.  If your filter's moved away from the edge of the roller by more than a millimetre, you've take out too much tobac, or not put enough in the first time around.  That's fine.  Just add tiny amounts bit by bit until the filter holds its position.

On the other hand, if the filter doesn't move at all, slightly open the roller and check how tightly the tobac has rolled itself.  You'll know when it's too tightly rolled:  either it will stand out past the edge of the filter (which isn't always a problem) OR it'll look like a brown sea-sponge.  You don't want the sea-sponge effect.  take out and smooth the tobac again as with the closing of the roller.

Once you've got your filter in place and the tobac is at the right rolled density, take a leaf from the box.  For the most part they're section-folded one into the next for easy removal from the packet.  The gum that you wet is ALWAYS on the inside; that means, the same side of the paper as the direction of the fold.  It'll make sense when you see it for yourself.  Gum edge facing you, slide the lower, ungummed edge, into the roller.  You'll know it's in properly when you let it go and it doesn't want to jump out anymore.  Very slowly roll the canvas so that the leaf slides into the roller.  When that thin strip of leaf with the gum on is all that's left, stop.  You then need to wet your gum (licking is still the easiest) before you roll the leaf all the way into the canvas.  Once it's wet, roll it completely into the roller.  Give it two or three final rolls.  You can then open the roller immediately to admire and then smoke your handiwork, or take a few moments to enjoy the feeling of the roller in your hands, giving the gum some extra time to dry out, before you smoke it.  It's really up to you.

I'm off to bed.  I had hoped to end off with a humorous little something, but in all honesty, I'm so lus for s smoke now I think I'll go and reenact my little rolling ritual.

Goodnight, and sleep tight.  Remember, whatever's under your bed is probably more afraid of you than you of it.

XOXO

Just a few things I wanted to say

Howzit!?  And what a weekend!

So many people were "plagued" by strange dreams over the weekend it's almost a mental epidemic outbreak of some kind.  I dreamed of Taelons and Commonalities, my fiancé of pot roasts for birthdays, another friend of mine of Da'an...  Yes, slightly odd.  And this just includes the people I've actually spoken to about it.

So, I'm going to focus on mundane things in this blog.  Two, specifically.

1.  Julian's birthday gig:

Saturday was Julian's birthday, so to celebrate he asked people to go and support his band at Verdi's in Edgemead.  It was a truly spectacular evening.  I saw Jacob, who I haven't seen since early last year, and Justin, a friend I haven't seen since 2011 - which is waaayyy too long ago.  I need to make a point of putting these events more out there than I have been doing, maybe then I'll see more people more often...

Anyway, a very merry time was had by all, and of everyone who would usually "fade out" first, Jacob is the last person I would expect.  He stayed until roughly 11.00 before he left.  Justin stayed longer, both of us only leaving after midnight - somehow I managed to make it almost to the end of the gig (the last time that happened I can't even remember, that 's how long ago this happened).  I also got to have my first Sex On the  Beach and wow!  I do believe I'll be going back for more at some point.  I just have to check Struan isn't around, though.  After I finally managed to finish the cocktail the man tried to feed me different shooters.  I managed three in perfect health (a Jägermeister, a tequila (fuqing awful!) and a vanilla vodka - which burned but Gods, it was good!) and then forewent any others.  I know myself:  even one more and I'd have had to stay over at the restaurant.

Julian wasn't so lucky, sadly.

After they finished their gig Struan took him to the bar and fed him random shooters.  By the time Julian got home he had to knock on the window to wake me up and when he got into the room he flopped over like a limp wrist.  When his head touched the pillow, my word, he broke hi own "falling asleep" record.

All in all it was an amazing night, and I'm so glad that everyone enjoyed themselves.

2.  How to ride a scooter

So, I've been wondering what goes through people's heads when they see me on the scooter.  So many people say, "Aw! Cute!" when they see someone 40+ on a moped, but what do they say or think when someone in their mid- to late 20s uses one?  Especially guys.  Think about it.  Most guys like big machines, something that's either loud or fast or powerful.  Maybe something flashy, or something that can be flashified.  Souped up.  Pimped.  Whatever.  Catch my drift?

Enter the Nerd.  Enter me.  I'm in my late 20s and I ride a slightly beaten up scooter.  "Beaten up" in terms of wear and tear, not literally involved in accidents or such.  Also, second-hand - thus the wear and tear.  I don't much care for something big and flashy, although The Broom certainly isn't slow.  I don't really want to flashify The Broom either, although I do want to have her resprayed and a besom image painted on the one side.  Basically, I just really want to have her fixed up.

But anyway, that's neither here nor there.

How do you ride a scooter?

The simplest answer would be to go with the flow.  There is some practice involved, and anyone who tells you that you just get on and ride needs to be kicked in the [censored]!  Unless you've ridden a motorcycle of some kind on a regular basis before.

Something important to always keep in mind is to start slowly.  Once you get on, your lights and engine are on, you have your helmet strapped onto your head, blah blah blah, you need to let go of the brakes (those shiny silver levers on the handlebars) and very slowly, with your right hand, twist the handle backwards.  You'll feel your engine take as the revs climb.

Once you get moving, LIFT YOUR FEET onto the footplate!  This is incredibly important.  You want to have grip on your shoes for as long as possible, and keeping your feet down will not be a helpful maneuver.  Having good quality shoes for riding the scooter will be helpful for sudden or emergency stops, where the loss of momentum will unbalance you.  You'll then need to put your feet down as quickly as you can to maintain that balance, and in a really rough stop, putting your feet down minimises the skidding from a sudden stop.

Now, once you gotten movement on the scooter conquered, you need to know how to turn a corner.  Again, SLOWLY!  But not too slowly.  You need to maintain enough speed to go around the corner without causing havoc to the flow of traffic.  I found that the best way to learn to take a corner was to change lanes on a straight (and EMPTY) piece of road.  The thing is, turning your handlebars too quickly will cause all sorts of issues, among them a loss of momentum, loss of control and possibly serious injury.  So learn to take your corners slowly.

One thing that's very important to keep in mind is that eventually you won't even have to think too hard about taking corners.  Because the scooter is automatic, you don't need to gear down first.  Just slow down, slightly if you're travelling at a lower speed (e.g., 60 kph) or more forcefully if you're travelling faster than that (e.g., 70 kph and higher).  Longer pieces of road also make curves and turns easier to handle, mainly because things like hairpin bends are mainly found on mountain passes (which you won't travel without a super-scooter in any case).  Take the beach road (Otto du Plessis) between Blaauwberg and Melkbosstrand as an example.  It certainly isn't a very straight piece of road, in fact it's more like a big black anaconda.  It has the most amazing curves to it.  The best part:  you don't need to slow down to take them!  I love travelling down that piece of tar because of the curves in the road.

You need to keep a serious eye on your mirrors, not only for watching the flow of traffic but also for shifts caused by road vibrations.  The Broom's mirrors aren't of very good quality, so they tend to shift even for the slightest little bumps.  The best way to judge if your mirrors are set properly is to check how much of the scooter shows up in them.  If you can see quite a bit of the scooter, your view's too tight.  If you have to lean too far to either side to see any of it, your view's too wide.  To fix your view, do this:

1. Put the scooter on its head stand (the big stand right in the middle of the body that stands on a for).
2. Sit on the scooter as you would when you're on the road.  In my case it's with my back straight up, secretary-style.
3. Check your left mirror.  It needs to be set upwards and either in or out in such a way that you need to see the road in the bottom half of the mirror.  Still sitting up, set it sideways that the road runs straight down the middle of the mirror.  This way you should see the traffic to your left and to your right in your left mirror.
4. Lean slightly to your left and look for the left rear edge of the scooter.  If you need to lean so far that anything in your body strains, set the mirror in, until you can lean out, see the edge of the scooter, and nothing strains in your body.
5. Repeat steps 3 and 4 with the right mirror.  I would suggest having your right mirror set slightly wider out than your left, as for the most part you should be driving on the left side of the road, single or double lane, as much as possible.

If you have any questions, ask me :)

Now for the actual riding of the scooter!

I touched on it earlier on, but I think I need to get more "metaphysical" about it now.  Riding the scooter isn't just about getting on, riding off and leaning into the corners.  It's an almost-total body effort that flows from one thing into the next.  You need to be able to feel the road underneath you.  You need to feel the way your tyres go over the surface of the road and all the tiny little vibrations that causes.  After a while your body and mind will learn to anticipate the bumps and make whatever physical adjustments you may need (like hitting one of those motherfuqers on Otto du Plessis and almost getting unseated!) 

Righto...

As you gain experience your conscious mind will stop being much of a factor except when it comes to things like red lights, stop signs and watching your mirrors and traffic.  The actual riding of the scooter will be done almost completely by your body, by the tiniest of muscle contractions or releases.  You won't turn a corner any longer.  Instead, you'll need to be around it and your body/scooter will fulfil that need.  Changing lanes?  Not a problem.  You'll see the side you need to be on and you'll be there.  There'll be times you need to make a mini-swerve for something lying in the road.  Don't be too surprised when you find your bum practically sitting on the edge of the saddle to do that for you.

I'll stop now.  Let the total mind-blowing beauty of riding a scooter (schnarf!) fill your being and make you want one as much as I love riding one.  Let the imagery of mountain scenery and forest lanes fill your mind after it's been blown.

And say goodnight and love to you all!

Ag, you know, just a little something I wrote...

They let him into the facility quite easily.  Searching him at the door, all they found was a briefcase full of decks of playing cards.  They snickered to each other (they thought) silently, but he ignored it.  He had something he had to do and he couldn't be distracted by his temper tonight.

As he entered the main building, his phone let out a signal that froze the images on all the security cameras in his vicinity.  The guards wouldn't notice it - he was alone in the building.  After all, he was the absent-minded "new guy", always working late, rushing to meet deadlines and often coming in after hours to finish up this or that.  Three months' worth of employment here had made sure his reputation was cemented.

Once in the lift, he worked fast, emptying the decks of cards into pockets hidden in his clothing.  By the time he stepped off on his floor, the briefcase was almost empty and his mass had gone up a few kilograms.

As he'd suspected, there was a guard at the door to the office and one other employee within.  She was an IT technician and was part of a "graveyard crew" that worked exclusively at night, running diagnostics and doing minor repairs when they had the quiet to do so.  He greeted them both and took his seat.

He looked at his desk and realised how much he'd miss it.  Framed photos stood around his monitor, while instamatics covered the surface of the screen to his right.  Various little ornaments lined the back and left edges of his desk, while a ficus filled the entire corner to the side of it.  He sighed and switched on his monitor, called up the floor plan of the building and flipped a switch on his briefcase, turning it to line up with the server room in the back.  Having memorised his route, he twisted the combination lock on his briefcase once and waited.  Moments later the server and office power fizzed and died, the IT tech gave a shriek and the guard came rushing in to see what had happened.

He was out the door before the others could see him, outer clothing discarded at what was his desk.  He turned his coat inside out and it matched his black skinsuit.  He ducked into the stairwell, pulling two decks of cards out of their pockets and shoving them into the pouches on the back of each glove, and made his way up.  In a minute someone would notice he'd vanished, after finding his clothing, and a building-wide search would commence.  THEY might even send out their special guards.

Moments later he found what he wanted:  a tiny airduct access between two floors.  He pulled the grating out, climbed into the duct and pulled the grate back in behind him.  Three metres to a left turn; five to a right; up two metres after that.  His route took him to an extraction fan looking out over a room on a floor that was nowhere on the building's floor plan, a floor kept secret by the "accidental" deaths of everyone involved in its installation in the building.  It was one among thousands of gruesome facts his job required him to know.  No, not job.  Work.  A job is for a salary, work is what you enjoy, he reminded himself.  He enjoyed his work.

He disconnected the extractor's power supply from its motor and removed the fan and housing from its hole.  He took a few moments to survey the room beyond and found his target immediately:  a bulletproof glass case on a pedestal in the middle of the room.  Its contents:  the Konstantinos Codices, supposedly so old they predated Mesopotamia, painted on paper of some unknown composition.  It was his work to retrieve the Codices and return them to Greece, into the possession of a certain family.

He pulled a tiny torch from a card box and shone it at the floor.  Tiny pressure sensors sparkled like rhinestones on a drag queen's dress.  It didn't take long to work out the pattern in which they'd been laid.  From the same card box he pulled a lens which showed laser beams.  They criss-crossed the outer perimeter of the room, getting less and less dense the closer to the case one looked.  A second lens magnified the area around the pedestal and he found the last security measure he'd been warned about.

He replaced the magnifying lens, put the laser lens to his eye like a monocle and from a pocket on his left ankle drew four cards.  Two each slid into vertical slits in the balls of his shoes.  From the right ankle he drew five cards with mirrored backs, pulling a tube of acid glue from his utility box.  Taking aim and working as quickly as he could, he glued the five cards to edges of the fan's hole.  He gripped his coat's tail and dropped to the floor.

He landed in a crouch and waited, but he'd managed not to trip any alarms.  Good.  He stepped carefully over a laser beam at his feet, placing the edges of the cards between the pressure sensors.  It was slow, but by keeping his clear eye on the floor and the bemonocled eye on the trip beams, he made it to the pedestal.  He took a few deep breaths with his eyes closed.

He opened them and examined the slits around the pedestal.  If there were to be any weight changes inside the case, two sets of electrified bars would clamp down on the thief's arm and he would be killed.  Since this floor didn't exist, the disappearance of said thief would go unnoticed.

From a pocket on his thigh he pulled a card with a razor-keen edge.  Keener, in fact.  He used it to cut a hole in the side of the glass case, levering the cutout out of the hole and placing it on top of the case.  From the small of his back he pulled a deck-sized stack of plastic sheets.  A flick of his wrist and they lengthened, widened and heightened to form a codex sized carry-case.  He opened and placed it on top of the case as well, then drew two blank decks of cards from the same pocket.

He took a breath and held it, aimed, and flicked his wrist.  One of the decks went spinning into the case and into the edge of a codex, taking its place on its pressure sensor.  He reached in for the codex, placed it in the carry-case and repeated the process.  Only once both codices were in the box did he breathe again.

He sealed the box and shoved it into a pocket running down the spine of the skinsuit.  As he turned back to the extraction duct the laser beams disappeared and a section of the wall behind him slid open.  A smoking canister hurtled into the room and without thinking he kicked it back out.  There was a series of surprised grunts and a muffled "woof" as the canister exploded.  He pulled out a deck of cards and dove for the extractor.  He hit the floor of the duct rolling, fanning out the cards as he rolled and forming a bulletproof seal behind him.  Some papery "thwacks" told him the wall held and he scrambled back to his entry point.

At the door out of the stairwell he paused to catch his breath and listen for the sounds of pursuit.  None so far - nice!  He opened the door a crack and almost lost an eye as a bullet zinged in.  He pulled out a deck of razor cards and a deck of shield cards.  He cut the shield deck and fanned the cards to form a dinner plate-sized circle of the cardboard.  He took a few quick breaths and burst into the passage, hurling razor cards at whatever guns he saw and deflecting those he had yet to get to.  The force of the bullets hitting the cards started numbing his arm, so he hurled the disk at a guard, catching the man's cheek and knocking him backwards.  Still flicking cards at guns, he ripped out a deck of glue cards and started flinging those at the guards' eyes.  He bought himself enough time to break through their ranks.  As he passed the corner he threw a special card at the wall, where its edged lodged in the plaster.  A timer counted down on its face.  He kept running, ripping open pockets for easy access to his cards and took the first lift he found to the basement.

As the lift dropped he set up a wall of shield cards with gaps in for throwing razor, glue and "flash" cards at the "enemy".  Poor things were only following orders, it wouldn't do to kill them because they're following orders.

His precautions proved founded.  As the doors slid the interior of the lift was filled with bullets.  He gave them a few moments to empty their clips, fanning a few glue and razor cards in his left hand.  As the first clip emptied, he reopened a slit in the wall and started hurling cards at guns and eyes.  Every few cards he threw at them was a flash card, sparking of tiny magnesium flashes before they hit anyone.  He dislodged the central section of his wall and used it as a riot shield to storm the guards.  Those who'd avoided the flashes rushed him and he resorted to punching and kicking to defend himself.  He shifted his gloves slightly and the cards in them slid over his knuckles, creating boxing gloves that he used to great effect.  He just made it to the door when he heard a gun chambering a round behind him.  He froze, turned slowly and looked straight into the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen on a man.  He raised his hands as instructed and waited for the man to twist his head to his shoulder mic.  A moment later the man dropped, knocked out by the deck of cards that hit him in the temple.  The thief put his hand back up, the cards sliding back into his glove like a paper laser.  He sighed, saddened that he'd never get to know the blue-eyed guard.

From the basement, his escape was almost too easy.  He encountered two more guards, both of whom he snuck up on and knocked out with his glove cards.

Two weeks later he disembarked a Greek plane at Athens International Airport.  His pick-up driver was already waiting for him and they were soon on their way to his client.  Just outside of the city the tinted windows rolled up and lights and airconditioning whirred to life.  He knew precisely where they were going, having worked it out and looked it up the last time he'd met his client, but said nothing, sipping a tiny glass of ouzo as they travelled.  Half an hour and another ouzo later they pulled up to a mansion.  The driver offered to carry his luggage, but he declined, keeping the Konstantinos Codices and case of cards with him.

He met the old man in his study, a room decorated with Greek Orthodox iconography and lined with books in display cases.  The deal was concluded quickly, him exchanging the Codices for the second half of his payment.  Before he left, he asked, "Mr Tatoupolis, why did you want these codices so badly?  Simply to add to your collection?"

The old man smiled.  "Not really," he said.  "My grandfather found them in a cave in the Tigris Valley and was forced to sell them when his fortune was taken from him.  I'm simply reclaiming what belongs in my family."

The thief nodded.  His suspicions confirmed, he shook the Konstantinos' hand and left.  He boarded the first flight back home and once boarded, settled in for a long nap.  His kitchen needed some remodelling, and he could think of a few orphanages in the City that needed help.  There were also some shelters and animal rescue organisations who needed new facilities...

He passed out making his list before the plane had even left Greek airspace.