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Yesterday I told someone a very personal story: it is one of my favorite ones, a brief summary on how I came to form my perspective. I thought I would share the story with everybody:

The pride of my hometown is a huge palace with beautifully maintained gardens. When I was a child, one of the main attractions in these gardens was a couple of swans. It was a big deal when the swans laid their eggs in spring and I wouldn’t be surprised if even the newspaper reported when the young ones hatched. Exciting stuff! However, what totally eluded me was that these swans were black-neck swans, a species native to South-America and very rare in Germany. For me they were simply the only swans I knew, so I just assumed every swan has a black neck.

When I got my first job, I moved away from my hometown. One day I went to the shores of a lake with a friend. And there they were, the beautiful white swans. White from beak to tail feather. I exclaimed: “They don’t have black necks.” My friend laughed at me and said: “Don’t be silly, swans are always white. They don’t have black necks!”

Then I moved to New Zealand and… the first swan I saw was black, entirely black. I can’t remember when I last saw a white one. I wish I still had my friend’s phone number :)

Another one of my strange hobbies is to collect images of the symbol X. I find them all around the place and photograph or paint them. This here is one of my recent additions. I love ambiguity. Maybe love is the wrong expression, I am intrigued by it.

Where I grew up x meant “No!” This is not allowed – “Das ist verboten”. Where I live now, signing off with three x means heaps of kisses. If you sign with xxxx you might be particularly fond of the person, or you might be after an Australian brand of beer. Then we have Xmas or Xing (which could be a crossing or a common Chinese name or if you are like me, you could be on the look-out for yet another x). I think x must be one the most widely used symbols with the most different meanings. I don’t have a very scholarly approach to this, this is something I will save for retirement. In the meantime I just find it interesting and keep collecting.

But ultimately, I try to find an alternative meaning to most things or try to look for a different angle. This is where my puppets come in. For me they are a little bit like de Bono’s six hats thrown into a ring and mixed in every possible combination (as nothing is ever that clear cut). Of course they are far less intellectual.  But they are a fantastic tool to put yourself in somebody else’s shoes.

Logically I am now researching puppets and the history of puppetry with a particular focus on hand puppets. (I am still at the very beginning though.) Puppets have always been around. For centuries hand puppets got away with saying whatever they wanted. In public performances they could air opinions that were too dangerous for people to express. Unfortunately in Romanticism they morphed into cutesy little creatures to address kids, mainly to teach morals. Nowadays people see hand puppets and immediately think they are for children. I don’t believe the whimsical is entirely lost on grown-ups. After all animation and fantasy films are very popular at the moment. Maybe it is a matter of the readiness for consumption.  Slick animation films are the instant noodles of creativity, while hand puppets are more like getting eggs and flour out of the cupboard first. Don’t get me wrong here, I don’t want to deny the creativity of the film makers. I am talking about the audience. I am a maker, but I am keen for my audience to participate. Even if it is only by filling in the gaps or spinning their own yarn in their minds.

I found various sources that use puppets for therapy with young ones, but nothing for geriatric therapy yet. I believe there is a huge potential in getting people to act out the characters, being active and letting their own creativity flow. For older people this is certainly the way to go, they don’t need to be taught morals, they are more likely to want to express their life experiences.

I have to tell you what just happened. I am really shocked (and this doesn’t happen very often).

I went down to the letterbox to get my newspaper. (Yes, I still get it delivered and read it religiously.) My Neighbour Envy was out at the same time. He had been on honeymoon. I didn’t even notice they had come back. He recently got married to Twofaced. I will have to wait and see whether this relationship lasts.  They seem to have a lot of like-minded friends though. Honestly, when they moved in I thought they ran a swinger’s club, with the constant stream of visitors they had.

Anyway, back to my story. So here was Envy standing in his garden waving me over to his place. I followed his invitation, he is a nice enough guy as long as you don’t have something he wants. (Make sure you never lend him your tools, you won’t get them back). Being neighbourly, I thought he was keen to tell me about his honeymoon. Was I mistaken!  He launched right into me. “What’s going on in your place?” he asked indignantly, while I was only half way across the road.

“What do you mean?” I asked back, I really didn’t know what he was going on about.

“What’s with all the comings and goings to the kennel? I see all sorts of people loitering about. I would watch this young puppy of yours. He isn’t into drugs, is he?”

I was flabbergasted and tried to laugh his accusations off. I told him that Lou had been sick all week. He shook his head and walked away, muttering: “Take him into the house when he is sick, don’t leave him in the draughty kennel”

I just stood there standing in the middle of the road with my newspaper in hand and my mouth hanging open, wondering what had just hit me!

Pirate came by. He wanted to sell me some tapes he’d found in his ol’ man’s cellar. He just assumed I would belong to an age group that still had tapes and I would have a recorder to go with it. (And no, I am not talking video tapes here…) Sorry to disappoint you, Pirate, I never owned a tape recorder. These gadgets were even before my time. I am a bit offended though, next time he will be offering me a record for a gramophone…

Anyway, he had tea with me and was very surprised not to see Lou hanging around. Usually these two go all gaga when they are together and do hilleareous things. I told him Lou is having a bit of a sulk out in the kennel.

So Pirate went over there and didn’t come back for ages. I don’t really trust Pirate to offer the best advice to a young puppy, so I sneaked up on them and eavesdropped for a while. I am not proud of myself and I made sure nobody could see me. It’s not a thing I usually do and I don’t want anybody to know.

Pirate spoke in a very soothing and quite voice. I was surprised, as he is usually very boisterous. I have never seen this side of him. I heard him saying Lou shouldn’t worry, there are plenty more skeletons out there. Every human has at least four or five, they are there for the taking. “Yeah right,” I thought, “that is so Pirate… He would sell Lou one of his own skeletons if he could”. Thankfully Lou was in no state to accept anything or make any deals (apart from this, he has only a small allowance of pocket money and Pirate normally asks exorbitant prices). Lou kept mumbling something about Edeltraut’s lovely bones.

I knew I could leave them to it, there would be no resolution. So I went back into the house and had another cup of tea.

I got really worried about Lou. He hides sometimes, but never for long. This morning I had a look in the kennel outside, a place he really hates as he thinks it is beneath him to live in a wooden shack. But there he was… curled up and staring into space. When I called out to him he choose to ignore me. I had to call three times and ask what the matter is. He said: “Nobody loves me”. “Of course we love you,” I replied knowing very well, how little my words meant to him at this moment.

I crouched down in front of the kennel and invited him to tell me his side of the incident with Skeleton Edeltraut.

According to him he meant well. He says, he heard Skeleton coming home. She obviously had difficulties opening the door carrying all the shopping bags and being on the mobile at the same time. He wanted to help and ran over to the door to open it, but she had already managed it herself and was inside. When she saw him she dropped all her bags and ran up the stairs. He grabbed what he could of the shopping and ran after her, but she just dived under the bed. He waited outside, still short of breath, he wanted to tell her there was no need to run, but she never showed.

“I do love her, you know”, he added more to himself than for me to hear.

…I have to make this clear, I want to help Lou. Yet, I am not sure how. I have to admit, I am at a loss here. I know how important it is to have someone to pour your heart out to. Lou has made it clear to me, I am not the one he trusts in this matter. It hurts a bit, but I have to accept it!

My reader “Whichwillitbe” suggested in a comment to my post yesterday, I should introduce Lou to Philosopher. Thanks so much for the suggestion.

Not a bad idea, I thought initially – I value Philosopher’s opinion a lot. He has so much life experience. But… (and I don’t know whether “Whichwillitbe” has read the book Hermit’s Web, as this is a very big BUT!)  Philosopher is in the same boat as Lou, just at the other end of the age scale. All our friends call him The old Fool, because he is secretly in love with Deutsch Fraulein and he thinks we don’t notice. (This picture is one of my favourites from the book).  I wonder how old do you have to get for this carry-on to stop?

Anyway today is Sunday and Witch puts on Sunday dinner. I might talk to her how I could help Lou. Or does anybody else have any suggestions?

To be continued…

I found these notes littering the place. They all said the same: “I wish the Dedes had an Agony Aunt. I soooo desperately need a confidant!” (Gee, the writer certainly won’t win an award for neat hand-writing. It took me a while to decipher them.)

Finally I caught  the culprit in the act: It was Lou, the love-sick puppy. I had my suspicions, but I am not one for asking directly. I am a bit miffed though, I always thought they could confide in me…

… to be continued

This is a much better image of a Tui bird, than the one I took last weekend. I have taken this one seven years ago. I remember clearly, there were no cats on the premisses… It makes a huge difference.

I have to say, for me the expression “making friends” has taken on a new dimension. Yesterday my Dedes and I were invited to hold a workshop with elderly people in October. So it is still a while to go and I have heaps of time to think how I am going to do it. However, after our last outing I have a fairly good idea what could work. And I am looking forward to it.

I wanted to start this day by taking a photograph of a Tui. These native birds love to congregate in one of our trees in the front garden. Their beautiful song is just such an invitation to get up and get going.

Unfortunately Tuis never sit still and it wasn’t an easy task to catch one. The sun just touched the crown of the reasonably high tree. Only one of them popped up long enough for me to get a couple of mediocre shots. It’s good that I don’t need high res images, so I could crop it drastically. It’s not an artwork, it’s just to show what the birds look like with their shiny black plumage and the two curly white feathers on their throat.

I walked around the tree to get a better angle, and there I found this mean looking little cat sitting under the same tree also waiting for the Tuis. I guess he thought the song was an invitation for breakfast.