The Antiquated Hoover I have shamelessly plagiarised a new and delightful term from a creative friend of mine to whom I will refer as Nonnie Mouse on this stadium (and no, I am not translating directly from the Afrikaans “op hierdie stadium”) for no other reason than that I could not in my wildest imaginings share a stadium let alone a stage with his humble but huge talent. So the best I can hope for is that he will regard it as a compliment that I have sucked up this new and glorious contraption: the Antiquated Hoover to convey my latest ramblings. Manipulation. Say this word in company these days and you may as well spell it with an F. My guess is that no person alive would admit to being manipulative if you asked them outright. I’ve even cringed at the thought that I myself might have become quite adept at this particular skill. After all, I have convinced at least two toddlers in my lifetime that their food is actually made up of small, heaped teaspoonfuls of aeroplanes (yes, I’v
More than one hundred lifetimes later and like the alley cat, back on my feet. "Who are you" I ask the precocious seven year old who used to have the answer to everything, "And where are you going?"