WHEN SHE SMILES, IS THERE DIMPLES?

FOUR DAYS OF ABJECT POVERTY! Having spent all my well earned dosh on Christmas prezzies, my Coffers were distinctly diminished. I had placed all hope on a deposited cheque, Thursday last week - it only cleared this morning - a complete FRIGGING WEEK! Consequently I had NOODLES for Christmas lunch, not even a beer! Okay so I had had a sumptuous Christmas dinner on the Eve, as is Brazilian's want.

WHAT IS IT BRAZILIANS LOVE ABOUT LOUD BANGS? Where's the fun in hearing a loud banging noise? A lot of fun apparently, judging from Christmas Eve and Day. Don't get me wrong, I like fireworks as much as yer next man, when it's at night and a wonderful display of lights and exploding stars and whirly things. But just a loud bang, during the day, and throughout the day and NIGHT, actually it's no fun at all, it is, in fact, VERY FUCKING ANNOYING!! It goes on during the year too as the neighbourhood drug pushers send up rockets for varying reasons from "Here come the fucking pigs, run for it!" to "Got a new batch of Havana Gold in, get it fresh!".

A SMALL PIGEON, powerless to fly for some reason, had alighted on my terrace and stayed for a few days, I had thought of capturing it and eating it for Christmas lunch, but Good Will to all Men and Creatures and all that...Instead I put out a small dish of water and grains of rice, do small pigeons eat rice? Anyway, it's disappeared now, either learned to fly or some cat's got it. Maybe it was a message from some god or another - "Stop looking at Internet Porn!" Or maybe it was actually a gift from Heaven for me to eat for Christmas Lunch. Now there's a god somewhere is saying "Fuck you then you ungrateful bugger, I'll fly the thing to the nearest favela."

What's the smell of parsley?

HWYL FAWR and praise the Lord!
Make sure you fart well in the mornings.

Progress Report

NADOLIG LLAWEN
BLWYDDYN NEWYDD DDA!


"I say, the sun's well over the Yard Arm, Sarn' Major, how about a G & T"
"Right Away Sah!"

Actually, an ice cold FBA. I've been working all morning, the Fiesta is prepared, just need to shove it in't' oven.
STUFFING!
'no it's true I say!'
No, I mean stuffing, Christmas stuffing, I've been preparing that too. I'm a chop and plop, slice and dump chef. "one teaspoon of.." BOLLOOX! chop a whole bunch up and shove it in. Here's the recipe:

Dry bread, chop it up and shove it in a big bowl thingy.
A whole bunch of sage, fresh, - you must take it from the plant barefooted and only with your left hand, don't forget to thank the Earth Mother, AND the Green Man and the spirit of the plant itself.
Chop and plop it in.
Onions, chop and plop.
In fact just chop and plop this stuff:
nuts (any sort)
parsley
yucky bits from the inside of yer turkey (or Fiesta), cooked of course, you'll use this soup.
garlic (loads)
chives
salt and pepper, yes really!
just for fun I added a bit of curry powder.

pour in yer Fiesta soup, goo it all up in a big mess, then make cakes like the mud pies we used to make when we were kids, remember? Shove it in the oven for some time and Robert's yer Father's Brother!

Whose turn is it for the washing up?

JINGLE ALL THE WAY.

THE DAY is almost upon us - in fact the day IS upon us, for in Brazil Christmas is celebrated on Christmas Eve, mid-night dinner, opening pressies etc. Once again I've been charged with the task of preparing the Turkey. In fact it's not a turkey, it's a 'Fiesta', whoever heard of a bird called a Fiesta??! What'smore, according to the bumf, the thing is 'brought to us from the highlands of Scotland'. So the Jocks have Fiesta farms? Can anyone enlighten me?

STILL ON THE SAME festive theme, went through HELL the past couple of days. I'm talking about Shopping Centres. SCs I abhor at any normal time, SCs at Chrismas are something akin to Torquemada's methods from the Inquisition. The only alternative is to brave the smelly thronging masses in the city centre. In fact the SCs are the same, except with air conditioning. In children's toy shops, I can't understand why a few pieces of plastic cost R$80, it's ludicrous. (OOps am I starting to lament about the cost of living again - YES!) okay, stop.

MORE LATER, it's time for me to prepare the Fiesta. A few FBAs and I'll be jingling all the way.

The Sun Has Got His Fuggin' Hat On

A COUPLE OF MATES just phoned my mobile from England! Aparently there's a cheapy scheme where you can phone for about 1p for 10 minutes. Anyway they are there quaffing Abbot's and London's Pride in the Old Vic it's 4c outside and probably icy; and I'm here quaffing ice cold FBAs (Polar) and it's 35c outside, can't go out, I'll roast. Guess where I'd rather be?

CONTRARY TO POPULAR belief (more freeking clichés??!) "BRAHMA" is not the god of beer. I hear it's hitting Britain in a big way "...effortless flair" (one expat here was quoted as saying "more like 'effortless flatulence'". ) And in Brazil Brahma sucks; here's an urban myth proven true: during the summer here there's a real neccessity to produce huge quantities of beer in a short time, in order to speed up the fermentation process Brahma uses other 'non malted cerials', that's marketing speak- it's cabbage! Yup they ferment cabbage in the brewing process. Hence effortless flatulence.

FOUND MY DAD'S house on Google Earth, and I'm sure that's my old man in the back garden doing a barbie.

JUST READ on the BBC site, there a bunch of rogue "Bad Santas" running amok in New Zealand, protesting against the commercialization of Christmas, go for it! Spend less money this Christmas! Actually, I have to spend less money 'coz I ain't got the frigging money to spend anyway, probably these Bad Santas don't either and they're using it as an excuse to get free beer and food.

RIGHT NOW at the mo, there's some kind of street party going on outside and their playing fucking awful 'funk' music at high volume, I'm trying to drown it out with Welsh Bagpipe music at a few thousand decibels. My neighbours love me.

HIP HIP HIP HOORAY!

HWYL FAWR!

CHRISTMAS AT 35c (that's frickin' hot)

PHEW! It's taken me almost a complete month to recover from that last whinge, but really! One struggles to keep in cold beers.
What's been going on?

I GOT a call from a guy wanting a translation - now normally I get lots of translation work that deals with technical stuff, I've done facial surgery, water and sewage treatment, Bion's concept of "truth", literacy teaching, lots of aeroplaney things - but this was (sounds of trumpets blaring) - FICTION! What's more - SCIENCE FICTION! Check this title out: Alpha-Orionis: A Journey to the Centre of the Galaxy. Man, pure cliché; if there are any English Literature teachers out there who want to give their students a fine example of what 'cliché' is, check this out.
Well you can't check it out anyways because after the first two chapters I'd translated, the guy gave up, I think he realized it was crap in English. It may have sounded fine to him (he wrote it after all) in Portuguese, but in English.... Pulp Fiction (isn't that a cliché?)

INVASION of teenage mutant cupim: cupim, is Portuguese for - TERMITES! Not those sort that David Attenborough talks about as he climbs through their giant mounds somewhere in the wilds of Africa far from any metropolis; no siree, these buggers fly and they're right here in the big city and they eat wood and books, and the fuckers are in my flat eating my wood and books. They look like long ants and the first indication that you got cupim invasion is hundreds of tiny gossamer wings on the floor, they shed 'em before they start crawling into yer wood and books. Next indication is sawdust. They start flying in between 8pm - 9pm, then they change shift with the mosquitos.

PAST COUPLE of weeks I've been teaching a guy whose going to the States on Saturday; complete beginner, wants to know 'survival English', so I gave him a few basic phrases: "I would like..."; "Can I have...."; "How much is...?"
Then you can add:
a room
a beer
a woman
a Big Mac

IN MY ROLE as Welsh consulate and Cultural Attaché, I felt it my duty to divulge and teach the fine gentleman's sport of Rugby. To tell the truth rugby arrived in Porto Alegre a few years ago via Australian exchange students; and thus the PoA Rugby Club was formed, called Charrua (pronounced SHA-HOO-AH) ; when they heard about me (being Welsh and the year was that we won the 6 Nations) they begged me to be the coach! Really! Jeezus, I haven't played rugby since I wuz in comp. in 1978. So I just opted to be Official Team Beer Drinker. Actually Brazilian rugby is terrible but it's wonderful to watch because it appears that they do everything by the rule book; it seems that they read about scrums, rucks, passes, line-outs etc. and do it exactly how it's described in the book; it's classic rugby.

ON A PERSONAL NOTE (that got yer attention din' it?) Angie's thigh's are swelling up like something incredibly swelly. What the figgin's is going on? We're asking: too much beer and barbies? No dudes, apparently it's those blasted hormones - injectable anticonceptionals! I give her a jab in the bum once a month (now, gentlemen please! this is a medical term!), to stop the babies (better than those dam rubber thingies), and her thighs start to balloon, "water retention" apparently; I have a student who is an obstetrician / gynecologist, who told me this. This same student gets me the jabs for free, only I have to do the job, I'm now a trained hyperdermic needleist! A change of substance and the thighs shrink, the gyne doc says we just have to wait for 3 months to see. Meanwhile Angie's starting to mention that I should get the snip, "too much messing around with my hormones" , she says. Argh! Anyone got any advice for me?

IS IT Christmas already? I'd better get to the shopping centre. HO HO friggin' HO.

HWYL FAWR!