I was having a sort out at the weekend and came across a diary I kept during a trip to Australia in July 1989. I kept the diary on this, a Z88 brought to the market by the famous Clive Sinclair.
Anyway, one entry went like this. The situation is that we are marooned in Zimbabwe. The flight to Australia had gone without us because we didn’t have the right visas. We were hoping to get visas in time for the next flight the following week. Our children were 3, 5 and 7 . . . gosh this was a long time ago . . .
Friday 28 July 1989
The plan was to rush to the
photo wizard, get our photos done then move on to the Australian High Commission
and make a visa application. The photo place was incredibly expensive (Z$70)
but we had little choice. We all sat in front of the camera and then Jane and
the kids set off for the High Commission to get in the queue. The wait for the photos stretched to nearly
an hour, however the boredom was relieved slightly by some amusing ditties on
the wall. One went like this:
sparrow decided not to fly south for winter. However, after a while it got too
cold and he took flight. After a while ice started to form on his wings and he
fell to the ground in the middle of a farmyard, paralysed with cold. After a
few minutes a cow passed over his head and crapped on him. The sparrow thought
that this was the end. However, the heat from the manure warmed the sparrow and
thawed the ice on his wings. Soon the little sparrow began to feel happy and
started to sing. A cat passed and heard the chirping coming from the manure and
started to dig about to investigate the source. He uncovered the little sparrow
and promptly ate him."
The moral of the story:
Those who shit on you are not necessarily your enemies and those who get you
out of the shit are not necessarily your friends.
Finally: If you warm and
happy in a pile of shit, keep your mouth shut.
Some advice is just timeless.