Dear Türkiye

I am not standing by your side today for I am far, far away but I know that you are suffering and I weep for you.

image1I know you must feel manipulated and bullied by those who want you for their own personal gain. Those that feel that they can control you and own you. I see you being scrutinized and gossiped about by your so-called friends and neighbours who twist their own hateful words to the world until you feel that there is no hope left. And I know there are those that wish you nothing but harm with wave after wave of attacks against your countrymen by an enemy wielding instruments of death. You have been overwhelmed by the hatred when you yourself have been so generous and opened your heart and your arms to welcome so many less fortunate. It must be hard to hold your head up high with so many wishing you harm.

Fighting for your life can be painful and God knows you have suffered. We are all witness to your pain. I know that you have tried to be strong. I see your brave attempt to take control of your future but you just weren’t strong enough today. Don’t give up Türkiye. Don’t let the hate and the negativity win.

A great man once said, “Peace at home, peace in the world”. You and I know that great man as your father Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. He once made you strong. He once made you proud. And if you just remember Mustafa Kemal Ataturk in time of pain you will become a strong and proud nation once again.

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You Can’t Choose Family

On occasion I write about something other than Turkiye and today is one of those times.  In many ways my blog is a journal allowing me to clear my head and cleanse my soul (if you believe in all that loopy stuff).  Writing down the words that I am feeling takes away some of the pain and hardship that surrounds the events and, well, I just feel better for it.

Family collageMany of you will recall that I am adopted.  I am not emotionally scarred from being adopted nor have I ever wished my life to be anything other than what I have been gifted.  I love my adopted family.  I may not always love their decisions or their choices but I will stand by my family because that is what they are – my family.

My Dad was the master of all things good and my mum, who may not have always been the best mother, was the best that she could be.  I also have my brother who, I will admit, has not always been my best friend or my biggest supporter nor I his but we have forged a relationship that (I think) is strong and everlasting.  I have lost both my Dad and my Mum now but I still have my brother who has a wonderful and extended family that I am blessed to call my own.

While I do not want to go into the details of this post (for fear of no doubt long retribution and probable legal action by the party involved) I will say that today I am closing the book on one part of my life.  This part of my life was ugly and full of anger, jealousy and hatred.  This person was a devious creation and she and her awful family have caused nothing but angst and sadness for me and my brother but today, finally, I can say hele şükür! (Good riddance!).  I hope to never cross their path again in this lifetime.

Now I plan to move forward and build an even stronger relationship with my remaining family because we are strong and we don’t take no shit from nobody!

#yeahIwentthere

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Daughter’s birthday present

I’m off to Sydney next week so this will probably be my last post for a little while.  I did want to post about my side trip to Tallinn last weekend though.

Estonia collage

First up  – Tallinn – what a beautiful city.  Having been living in Mersin where there is a population of just under 1 million people spending a few days in the relative calm of this Estonian city was a real pleasure.  The people were lovely.  The food was great (yes of course there was bacon) and the traffic was downright pleasant.  I mean people stopped for you on pedestrian crossings!  I know!!!

But why was I in Tallinn?  Yes?  …  Well …

As you all know Daughter is my very spoilt princess and I do tend to give her overly elaborate birthday presents.  You may also recall that Daughter has a love for the band 5 Seconds of Summer and believes, in her heart, that the bass player is the man of her dreams.  I have mentioned to you before as well that I thought George Michael was the man of my dreams and we all know how wrong I was about that.  Anyway as 5SOS (and practically any other band in the world) refuse to come to Istanbul to play a concert I looked for the cheapest alternative and that alternative just so happened to be in Tallinn, Estonia therefore Daughter and I travelled to Tallinn for her birthday present – tickets to 5SOS.

I knew nothing about Tallinn or Estonia.  I assumed it was part of Russia.  I thought it would be cold.  I thought I would have to eat horse or blood sausage (there was blood sausage for breakfast but I did not partake).  One thing I will say is that it was still light at midnight!  Crazy!

Arriving on the Friday morning we immediately walked over to the Old Town to get our tourist on.  Tallinn dates back to the 13th century when a castle was built by the Crusaders and developed into a large city full of opulent public buildings and merchants’ houses.  Today the Old Town forms part of UNESCO World Heritage List as one of the best preserved medieval cities surviving today.  The Old Town is one of those places where you can just get lost wandering through the winding, cobblestone streets … and that’s just what we did.  We also made a visit to Fat Margaret and Kiek in de Kok – seriously who makes these names up – before finding a restaurant and indulging in bacon burgers for the both of us.

Saturday morning came around and Daughter was chomping at the bit to be dropped off at the stadium to meet her friends and line up for sound check so I left her there while I found some similarly bored parental guardian types who were also waiting patiently for their children.  We went on the hunt for a bar where we settled in for a natter and a few bevies.  I arrived back at the stadium at 4 just in time to go inside and watch the band do their warm up before answering a few questions asked by the screaming fans.  I could feel a migraine coming on (perhaps I had had one glass too many).  Daughter had a front row, centre seat during sound check and nearly collapsed when Michael (the lead guitarist) noticed her t-shirt.  He pointed her t-shirt out to Calum (the bass guitarist and the man of her dreams) who laughed but sadly did not speak to her (the t-shirt was of Calum pulling a funny face).

tshirt

The concert itself was not as elaborate compared to the concert at Wembley last year.  I assume that it is too much to bring the whole she-bang with them while travelling around Europe.  They played a mix of their old stuff and a lot off their new album.  I laugh as I write this because of course these kids are fecking 20!  Their old stuff!  Give me a fecking break!  Daughter was happy though and that’s all that matters.

5sos concert

Returning to our hotel I went upstairs but Daughter stayed in the lobby – did I mention that we were staying at the same hotel as 5SOS?  And Adam Lambert.  And Brian May. Wasn’t intentional but it was a definite bonus.  I caught the lift up with Brian May.  I was very cool.  Smiled but didn’t go “Oh My God!  It’s Brian May!!!”  Anyway Brian May (who was also at the 5SOS concert) arrived back there at around 2am and said “don’t hold your breath for the band to come back anytime soon” but she held out.  The concierge rang me at 4 and said that Daughter had fallen asleep in the lobby.  Could I come and get her please.  Poor darling.  She got up again that morning at 8 and went back down to the lobby but, sadly, they didn’t come downstairs to meet any of their fans.  I felt bad for Daughter but at least she was inside.  Outside the weather had taken a turn and it was bloody freezing.  Fans in tiny shorts and t-shirts were jumping up and down and squealing but I am pretty sure it was because they trying to increase their body temperature and not because they were going to catch pneumonia.

So that was my weekend in Tallinn, Estonia.  I would thoroughly recommend a visit to Tallinn if you ever find yourself having a sneaky getaway.  Lovely spot.  And they have bacon.  Lots of bacon.

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Up and Away

I love to travel.  I love to experience new places and things, but, before you arrive on your summer holiday or return to the comfort of your own bed, you have to endure the 9 Circles of Hell with mind-numbingly slow queues, some serious second base groping, flight delays, screaming children (and on occasion screaming adults as well), middle seat syndrome, out of this world turbulence and basically anything else that Lucifer could throw at you to ensure that your flight sucked.  Big time!airport meet_0_0_0_0

I caught a flight from Tallinn, Estonia to Istanbul the other night with Turkish Airlines.  I really like Turkish Airlines.  The staff are good, the food is not entirely gross and the planes are in pretty decent nick.  I mean I have been on some really dodgy airlines before but Turkish Airlines is not one of them.  I’d give them a 4 star rating.

Getting to our seats Daughter immediately noticed that there was no television.  OMG!  What are you going to do for 2+ hours.  I pointed at the little screen above our heads, “You can watch from up there.”  She rolled her eyes.  #FirstWorldProblems #SpoiledPrincess

As soon as the flight started they turned on the film “Batman v Superman” and I thought “Why not?” so I settled in for the flight while Daughter listened to 5SOS.  The movie was OK.  I mean I am not a fan of these types of movies but it was better than a trip to the dentist.  Anyway 5 minutes before the movie ended – they switched it off – as we were coming into land.  5 minutes?  Seriously?  Did Batman kill Superman?  Was Lois Lane saved?  What happened to that big half mixed monster thingy?  And who was that chick that got in on the battle?  “Is she with you?”  “No I thought she was with you”.  Classic.  These are questions that I need answered.

As we were disembarking I asked the stewardess did Superman die?  She just laughed.  Apparently I am not the first to ask that question.

Arriving in Istanbul we had the extended re-mix of layovers before our flight to Adana so I settled in to people watch.  Remember the beginning of the movie Love, Actually?  I love that scene with everyone running into each other’s arms at Heathrow Airport.  Brings tears to my eyes every single time.  This is not that.  This is a bunch of grumpy, tired Turkish people (and a few random, and nervous, yabancı) all of whom would rather be anywhere else but at the airport at 1am.

While people watching I got to witness one man, angry at the world (or maybe he missed the last 5 minutes of Batman v Superman as well), grab one of those grey plastic containers as he passed through security and try to hit one of the polis with it.  Soon other polis arrived on the scene and he was dragged away.  He must have had one hell of a pat-down.  This was not in Love, Actually.

Then there was the flight to Diyarbakir that was delayed for over 2.5 hours (sorry Onur Airlines there’s a reason why I never fly with you).  People were going freaking nuts.  As a bystander it was definitely something to witness.  The poor ground staff were surrounded 10 deep with screaming Turks while just to the side was a woman holding a baby crying at the top of her lungs telling everyone that they are ‘not normal’.  She must have pushed somebody’s buttons because then everyone turned on her and she retreated to a corner.  This was also not in Love, Actually.

But the kicker was when we finally got into Adana airport at 4am and shuffled through to baggage claim.  One middle aged lady knocked an old man with a cane over while retrieving her luggage and didn’t even look twice at him.  No geçmiş olsun.  No apology. Nothing.  Yep pretty damn sure that wasn’t in Love, Actually either.

Like I said I love flying.  Love the whole shebang but being in a Turkish departure lounge after dark is like being front row at WWF Smackdown!

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No one is left behind

Those of you who are long time readers of my little blog may recall my post about Carl Frederiksen.  He was one of the old gentlemen that I would often meet in the village.  He was a kind old fella who unfortunately could not speak but he was always smiling and always so generous.

DSC06255

I hadn’t seen Carl for a little while, in fact I wondered if he had moved away.

This morning while yelling at Daughter to “hurry the hell up or you’ll be late for school” I saw an ambulance drive past.  Now I’m not proud but I rolled my eyes – another funeral.  Five minutes later the mosque made the announcement – it was Carl.

Tears filled my eyes.  He was near to 90 years old – so he had had a good wicket – but he was one of the most genuine people I had ever met.  I wondered what would happen to him as he had no family but when The Turk and I arrived at his home I was so happy to see that there were hundreds of people there to see him off.  His neighbours washed his body and shrouded him while the village men carried flowers and followed in procession to the mezarlık (cemetery) for him to be buried.  Early tomorrow I will make the trip with the ladies to the mezarlık for the prayer.

I was so proud to be a part of this village today.  Whether you are young or old, with a family or very much alone, no one is left behind.

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A White Flag

Well yesterday was certainly eventful wasn’t it?  My scrap with Mrs Vito was the talk of the town.  After our initial blow up she continued to yell and complain to anyone who would listen to her and I continued to flush my toilet so that water came down the pipe and onto her precious granite below, even splashing her workers a few times.

breaking-bad-i-won

But as you can no doubt guess from my GIF – I won.  I won this particular battle.  Thanks to The Turk.  Always The Turk.

While Mrs Vito continued to carry on outside and I continued to flush my toilet inside The Turk did what The Turk always does and stepped in behind the scenes.  After a discreet chat with Prince’s William and Harry (Mrs Vito’s boys) a hush fell over the battleground, shovels were downed and all was quiet.  It was an eerie quiet too.  An uneasy quiet before the battle resumes.  So I flushed … again.

Yes thanks to The Turk a white flag appears to have been raised by Mrs Vito (albeit by William and Harry) when their plumber arrived on the scene and immediately got started on re-routing our pipes (at no cost to us).  So how did The Turk manage to fix this family debacle?  Was the threat of a horse head in someone’s bed necessary?  No, not really.  The Turk merely pointed out that Vito and Harry (who sell maydanoz and nane to restaurants throughout the city) needs water from MY water pump to keep their produce fresh.  The Turk suggested that should our pipes not be returned to their former glory or an appropriate facsimile sorted before dark then MY pump would no longer be available to them.  Within twenty minutes the plumber arrived and within two hours I was able to poop and flush.

I won!

I told The Turk that I wanted an apology from her.  He said I was dreaming but I’m holding out.  There is officially a grudge and officially I get now why my MIL and both of my SIL hate Mrs Vito with a passion.  Last night was spent on my SIL’s terrace drinking vino and listening to them both bitch about the bitch meanwhile Mrs Vito closed all her curtains and slammed her front door a good few times.  We giggled.  I am no longer Switzerland, well maybe I am still Switzerland but this is a darker, edgier Switzerland.  This is the Switzerland of Mrs Vito’s nightmares!  Beware of Switzerland baby.

You have been warned!

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Bad Neighbours

Mrs Vito is a bit of a bitch.  The Turk hates her.  My mother in law hated her and Justin Bieber said it best when he said “my mother doesn’t like you and she likes everyone”.  Never has a truer statement been made.

mymindUp until today I have been relatively laid back when it comes to Mrs Vito.  I have spent the last 3 years (hell that’s not true it’s been the last 15 years) as Switzerland.  Switzerland never took sides.  Switzerland kept a smile on her dial and was always nice and friendly.  Always with a ‘Merhaba’ or a ‘G’day’.  But no more.  It is done.

Those of you who are long time readers will recall that Vito built a house that is literally attached to our house.  Right on the boundary.  But that’s okay because family is family right?  Well it seems that it was us who originally built right on the boundary but when we built there didn’t seem to be any major problem but, of course, when Mrs Vito built her new house she was pissed about the boundary issue.  Of course, that’s okay because family is family.  But today family ceased to exist and Mrs Vito crossed the line with me.

We have a drainage pipe that runs down the side of our house and into a drainage pit on her land.  There is no easement but, like I have said – over and over – family is family.  No problem.  Well today there is a problem and I lost my shit.

Mrs Vito is putting down some granite in what will be the parking area of her new home (and shop) and she instructed her builder to remove our pipe.  Didn’t ask mind you, just did it.  I went very nicely to her door and asked her (in my limited rubbish Turkish) why she instructed her builder to do it and she said that it was her land.  OMFG it’s been there now for 4 years!  4 fecking years!  She knew it was there.  Everyone knew it was there but she has had it removed.  I asked her “Are we family?”  She replied, “Yes.”  I said “well then it shouldn’t be any problem, it’s a small pipe.”  She then turned to the builder and told him to pour the concrete.  In front of me!  OMFG!!!!!

I did what any good Turkish Housewife would do and rang The Turk who immediately jumped in the car and arrived for the battle.  She told him that we had no right to build on her land (it was in fact the family’s land) and that we are definitely in the wrong.  Before I knew what was happening The Turk was wielding the piece of pipe like a club and was ready to thump her with it.  In the meantime she continued to call him names and that was it.  Usually I don’t need to involve myself in The Turk’s battles.  Usually I sit back to enjoy the show but today I had had enough.  I informed her (again in my usual crappy Turkish) that we were no longer family.  She then called me a name that I will not repeat which starts with an “O” and ends with a “U” but for those of you who do not speak Turkish you would call that person a “lady of the night”.

beyonce-wagging-her-finger-no

Oh no she didn’t! Oh yes she did!  YES SHE DID!!!  I flew at her.  Literally.  Jumped the small concrete fence between our two properties and wound my arm back ready to punch her in the face when The Turk grabbed me and held on tight.  Didn’t stop me though.  I become incredibly strong when I am angry.  I could flip a frigging car if I had to.  Anyway I’m still ready for a smack down so Vito had to grab my other arm and together they hauled me away kicking and screaming.

The neighbours were watching, in fact they had never seen me lose my shit so a few of them came down to watch. Brought popcorn.  And folding chairs.

I then grabbed my garbage bin and threw it on her.  Told her to wear it with pride.  Like the princess that she is.  And I walked away.

Mike drop.  BOOM!

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My Hurley Dog is an asshole!

The first thing I do in the morning is take My Hurley Dog outside so he can “do his business”.  This should take no more than 5 minutes – 10 minutes tops – but some mornings this Sydney born and bred poodle/bichon frise can get mighty sidetracked by the tiniest thing and his morning poop or wiz can become a battle of wills.

DSC09986.JPGI can damn well assure you that if I had waited for 9 hours to take a wiz the first thing I would want to do once that opportunity was available to me is, well, take that wiz.  Not chase a cat.  Not tease the neighbour’s Rottweiler which I am pretty sure goes a little like this: “you’re on a chain and I’m not.  Nanananana”.  Not minutely examine a random bone that has appeared as if by miracle in your eye sight and certainly not attempt to terminate a passing chicken (I will admit I am responsible for his assassin programming to take out any chicken).  I would wiz!  Or poop!  Or damn it I would do both!!

And even when he does finally go wiz he has the ability to cause me more grief than not.  Wizzing on fresh maydanoz or nane waiting to go to market, wizzing on the abovementioned Rottweiler who chooses to behave above his uncouth neighbour or perhaps walking up as casual as can be to Vito and aiming his wiz right on his foot!

A walk with My Hurley Dog is a pain in the ass too.  It’s the equivalent of letting a drunk toddler out on the street.  Having said that I should point out that I have never seen a drunk toddler on the street although I imagine if I had seen a drunk toddler on the street I would probably call social services.  Anyway like a toddler (drunk or not) My Hurley Dog’s behaviour while on a village walk is borderline bat shit crazy.  There are too many insane things going on around him so the opportunity for sniffing, tasting, regurgitating or just generally checking it out means that a walk can go on much longer than it really should.  He darts here and there.  He pees, like, 8 million times.  He chases random cats, dogs, birds, goats, humans.  He barks at the sky.  He harrasses the guard dogs at a nearby business and then strolls away while they lose their minds.  He has been known to run through the maydanoz or nane with abandon while neighbourhood women are trying to harvest for market which causes lots of squeals and “Yapma!” as he passes by.  And I’ve mentioned before his love of all things shit related.  Horse shit.  Goat shit.  Other dog shit. General shit.  Shit!!!!  Anyway it all comes down to asshole behaviour.

I blame The Turk for My Hurley Dog’s lack of social skills.  Pre-village he was a very well behaved little mutt but since moving half way around the world all of his expensive training seems to have been left on the tarmac at Sydney International Airport while his prima donna behaviour is rewarded by The Turk instead of reprimanded.

One of The Turk ways of rewarding My Hurley Dog is that he has started taking him to the beach for a Daddy/Doggy day.  I swear to God this is a thing they do together.  They wander down the beach together.  They might go on a fishing boat and nab a few fish.  Together.  They stop by the çay evi on the way home for çay.  Together.  He doesn’t take Daughter to the beach.  He doesn’t take me to the beach but he does take the fecking dog to the beach.  Last night The Turk told me I resent My Hurley Dog.  He told me I was jealous of their relationship.  Daughter says that he might be onto something but I think they whole lot of them have lost their freaking minds!

Reading this back I have come to the realisation that My Hurley Dog is a spoilt asshole who needs to learn some manners.  Kinda like The Turk.  On occasion anyway.

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Lemon of Troy

“And, with that, a mighty cheer went up from the heroes of Shelbyville. They had banished the awful lemon tree forever…because it was haunted. Now, let’s all celebrate with a cool glass of turnip juice.”

Strong words from the Shelbyville elder but here in Turkiye a cool glass of şalgam suyu really is just the thing to fix what ails ya!

Simpsons turnip

Let me tell you last night I visited a neighbour’s house and, after some discussion about my recent illness, I found myself being served rakı along with a large glass of şalgam suyu (turnip juice).  The look on The Turk’s face was priceless.  He knew I was going to have difficulty chugging both of these drinks down but chug them down I did because it would be considered rude to not do so.  I can see why they are served together.  The strong anise flavour of the rakı very much complimented the overly salty salgam but for me together or separate both drinks are very much hard for me to swallow.

Turnip Juice?  Seriously?

Yes indeed folks, although it is called şalgam suyu this little concoction is more correctly made with fermented carrots (yes I said that) as well as water, salt and bulgur flour.  Don’t get me wrong there is also turnip in the mix but it is only a very small amount.  During summer there are vendor’s all over Çarşı selling this famous concoction (which actually originates from the Mersin/Adana/Hatay region) and you know they are there before you see them by his unique music made by tapping the ladles to his own beat and singing at the top of his lungs.

In fact Adana even goes so far as to have a festival in honour of the wonderous şalgam.  The Adana Kebap ve Şalgam Festival, emerged from the tradition of enjoying kebab, with liver, şalgam and rakı. Originally it was called the Adana Rakı Festival but organisers had to change the name because of pressure from conservative anti-alcohol groups who wanted the Festival cancelled.

You can practically insert Mrs Lovejoy’s shrieks here, “But what about the children?!”

Oh and for those who want to know.  It is apparently good for you with vitamin B, potassium, calcium and iron.  It will help you lose weight, relieve stress and is an aphrodisiac.

turnip juice

I’m not sure if I will partake in a rakışalgam suyu throwdown again anytime soon but methinks this might be more to the stellar hangover than the freaky taste sensation.

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Playing Catch Up

I just typed “May is finally here” into my Google search engine and it suggested to me to finish that sentence with “and dogs are finally celebrating”.  I have to wonder why dogs are celebrating.  Do they have a full social calendar in May?  Is there some doggy get together I know nothing about where they are free to pee on trees, sniff each other’s butts and drink too much doggy vino from toilet bowls?  Bilmiyorum.

As expected this post has started waayyyy off track so in order to bring it back to Mersin and Türkiye I will start again.

white rainbow

May is finally here in Mersin and the weather has begun to resemble an ‘80’s mix tape.  Those of you who are old enough *cough, cough* to remember the mix tape will no doubt have fond memories of hours sitting by their radio/cassette player waiting patiently for their favourite songs to come on.  For me it was Rick Astley, Toni Basil and, of course, Wham!  *hangs head in shame* so a Janey mix tape would give you a pretty crazy mix of music and that is what the weather is like right now (which was the analogy I was attempting at the outset of this post).  Oh and for you younger generation who are scratching their head at my ridiculous analogy think of an ’80’s mix tape as the equivalent of your iPod on shuffle.  Up to speed?  Okay!

It is deliciously warm though.  Not hot enough to say we’ve finally hit summer but definitely hot enough to hit the beach, well if you are yabancı anyway.  And hitting the beach is great right now because they are practically empty except for that one random Türk who you can never seem to get rid of.  He will infiltrate your group, drink your beer and play with your children before stripping off to his not so tightey whiteys and practically flash his soggy old Johnson in your face.

swimmer

But, like an ‘80’s mix tape or a shuffling iPod (yes like a dealer I am still pushing that old analogy), you just don’t know what’s coming up next and, in the blink of an eye, your sunshiny beach days are gone and you find yourself running for cover and hoping that a freaking house doesn’t fall on you and some smarmly little brunette runs off with your ruby slippers!

In the meantime our fruit trees have started to bear fruit and we have nectarine, apricots and peach (please don’t call it piç) in abundance as well as buckets full of mulberries.  The mulberry tree actually belongs to our elderly neighbours (no not Crazy Eyes) who are not so steady on their feet so The Turk and I happily fill bucket after bucket of mulberries for them before wandering around the village offering the berries to anyone who is willing to take them off our hands.  I’m telling you this mulberry tree is a reincarnation of The Magic Pudding and gives a never ending supply!  The Turk and BIL carried 5 buckets of mulberries to the school yesterday and gave them to the kids there.  When I went to the school last night with My Hurley Dog for his evening constitutional there were squashed mulberries everywhere (and I bet many of the kiddies went home with stained mulberry shirts as well).  I suspect The Turk won’t be as welcome with the buckets of fruit next time.

fruit

Speaking of Crazy Eyes my nemesis has been neutralized.  In an operation that was more dangerous than “Neptune Spear” my nemesis was captured and was giving a full Viking funeral aka he became mangal.  Crazy Eyes didn’t really care either.  I think she was probably happy to have a decent night’s sleep too and if I can be honest her eyes seem less crazy today.  No, no, don’t thank me Crazy Eyes.  I’m happy to be of help.

Speaking of mangal The Turk took Vito’s Rottweiler for a walk the other day and they came across a goat herder tending his flock.  The Rottweiler went into launch mode and, well, let’s just say that money had to change hands to sweep this particular incident under the table and leave it at that … oh and we had mangal then as well!

I know I have been particularly slack with updating you on my weekly dramas.  I guess I have become immune to the chaos here now.  I don’t bat an eyelid at my foghorn SIL screaming from her window at someone – anyone – below and I just laugh when I witness what will no doubt become WWIII between The Turk and his brother or The Turk and the neighbours or the neighbours and some random or, well just about anyone and anything.

Until next time …

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