Out of the Amazon basin …

… Amazon, a giant online retailer. They started with books and CD’s now there’s not much one cannot buy through Amazon.

I have three accounts with them. Amazon in UK, Canada and Dotcom. The USA version.

Is anybody asking why? Well, the retailer will deliver to addresses without the hefty mailing fees, from country to country. That’s why.

Mostly, I use Amazon for my own needs. It aids, in that no more lining up at a cashier’s desk, sorting through products hanging or not hanging in a conventional retailer and the generally good price asked by the business. From household products to luxury items may be found there. No more driving to malls, parking, to the cost of gasoline for the purpose.

It behoves the consumer to be vigilant. Yet returns are free. usually. Call customer service and they are phoning back as promised.

Probably my only annoyance factor. Is the day or two after a purchase of anything. They bombard my email with “deals” after the fact. If I just bought soap? Why would I want more? As an example. Why give me a sale price after? Why not at time of purchase? Well, that last question is redundant, I know. Yet, dear reader, you likely get the drift?

Still overall, Amazon gets a big thumbs up from this happy customer!!

I bought some new underwear …

… recently.

Not so momentous in and of itself. The reason for the writing. Is for how the world is going.

Cotton seems to be a disappearing commodity?

When they may be located, often they are a mix of Polyester/Cotton of various proportions. The main sources of underwear come from the companies, Fruit of the Loom and Hanes. Go to any retail outlet and that’s what you’ll inevitably find. Although being fair, Denver Hayes too. Once in a while BVD. All of these sellers. Are they made in-house, somewhere then have the labels affixed to show the brand seller? They often used to say, “Made in Pakistan” on the garment.

They all construct their Men’s Boxer shorts in a newer way. Called a comfort fit. One that sees a piece of fabric inserted, from beneath the crotch to the back of the waist band and a seam running up each cheek of the bum.

“Comfort Fit”, is really a misnomer. For those seams may be very annoying. 100% cotton or a blend. It’s difficult to find the old method of boxer construction. With just a seam, running along one’s crack.

Having been looking for the old-fashioned type, for about 2 years. With purchase of the inferior design in the meanwhile. It might be interjected here, that I’m easy on the wear. Changing them almost daily and practising good personal hygiene. In the end they still wear out. From washing machines and powerful detergents. Even if the detergents are “green” or not?

When 100% cotton, exclusive of trim, may be located.

Yeah sure! I understand the waistband is going to be a synthetic material and that the seams will be using polyester threads.

When they are located. I found some made in China, from a seller caller Luk, with a umlauf over the U.

They have the polyester label from hell, sewn in at the rear. So I fetched my trusty seam ripper to take out the offending piece.

Lordy, once again.

If the stitching holding those labels in place were as strong and impenetrable; as the ones on the rest of the garment? Why I might have those ‘boxers” for 5 years not 2. Eventually, I prevailed. Not before a load of swearing over the tiny knots of machine threading that held them in place.

When buying, whether on-line or in the store. You’ll never see a rear view of the boxers. Just the bulging crotch shot, of cotton knit. I don’t care for cotton knit either. I like the older type of cotton fabric, and plenty of it. For it’s breathability. Especially for the summer months. So Hanes, if you ever read this? Please take note. One dissatisfied customer.

I am slavishly addicted …

… not meaning to demean addictions. Many of us have them and really don’t think of them, as such?

My addiction is capsicum. One that has crept up on me over years of use.

As addictions go. Probably not so serious? Yet as I was cooking my breakfast, this morning. After chopping the garlic, Thai peppers and salt.

After depositing them from the side of my knife in the pan. As always licked the residue from my fingertips. My body shuddered from the anticipatory delight of that salty rush.

Which is when the thought struck. “Man, you’re addicted to this stuff”. After that while finishing cooking. I was thinkin’ about my long love affair with the herb. Over 40? Maybe 35, years ago, I started with cayenne pepper. Bought as dried and ground. It had been recommended to me as a tea, to beat the other addiction in my life at that time. Tobacco.

It did help stop. When my body craved that cigarette hit, sips of capsicum tea helped distract from the withdrawal. Three days later, done with the tea. I started using it in the cuisine. As I had before, just more frequent. Ten years later, I found a seedling in the local nursery. Capsicum is actually a perennial plant. So, two years later, I was still plucking the peppers off of it. A few years after I was trying other varieties. When I owned my hobby farm, then later my house in town. Which where this graphic is from.

All that in my mind today, while cooking brekky.

As addictions go. likely not that serious? It, capsicum, is a blood purifier. Beneficial in tea, to beat colds and influenza like symptoms. On wounds will aid in their healing. In a trice and scars disappear. Along with ginger and garlic. It is the foundation of many recipes.

Hardly a day … nay, hardly a meal goes by that does not find me chopping a hot pepper, garlic and salt. Why salt? Well, it helps suck up the inevitable juices and stabilizes the small ingredients, while chopping. My son pours hot sauce on almost every meal. So, like father, like son? I suppose?




The Time Bandits …

Nope, not the 1980’s film but the governments who have to fiddle with the clocks. Jumping between the normal times as measured from Greenwich; to a so-called Summer clock time.


The hassle of twice yearly changing all the clocks and watches, to match the appropriate “official time”. Is an anathema to start with. Then there are all the road accidents. Proven they spike in correlation to the weeks after. Somebody, please explain how this benefits society? For it escapes me and all the people I know. I cannot remember the last time someone said “Oh goody, our clocks are going to change”? Introduced as a “wartime”  measure by U.K. Here we are like ducks on a pond. Still enduring the abysmal thing. Most farmers do not use it. Certainly the cows that give milk do not. What about the lactose intolerant?



It has been likened to cutting a foot 30.5cm, off of the end of a blanket. Then sewing it on the other end to make it longer.

It obviously does not benefit society. Or politicians would have consigned to the dumpster, long since past. My only conclusion is. That somehow it benefits bankers? With their machinations surrounding capital?

In conclusion. Any politician adding it to their platform of proposals, for election. Would surely gain my vote and many others beside.

Colliding air masses …

It’s warm inside,
while outside,
air masses collide,
spilling out over the water

Oh watch the wind blow
the snowflakes they twirl
as abandon
takes hold of their flutter

As fast as they come,
they stop as begun,
leaving their melting,
as water

Watching inside those
air masses collide,
Rain takes their place,
on the water

Snowflakes as they come
and now they are done
rain falls,
as it really should orta’

At home with a Danish …

What could be better?

An Icelandic mystery yarn on Netflix and a yam, with Danish Blue cheese on the side.  Hog heaven!

The mystery is entitled “Trapped”. So for three days in movieland, the protagonists have been stuck in a small town in eastern Iceland by snowstorm. While they are dealing with a murdered man, who was discovered at the same time the ferry from Denmark pulls in.

Danish Blue? Well anyone who knows blue cheese, should know this?

Brandy … made from wine, distilled three times.

Sweet potato? Sometimes called yams?

Trapped, a review

Laying in State …

More than three months since you have been gone,
there lies a dark hair on my floor.
Accusing and silent,
why did you not find me before?

Should it be kept as a reminder?
Or swept for no more?
Questions unanswered
for the one I adore

We talk on the internet
the last three months and more.
You laughed when I told you,
of what was found just before

My skills are diminished, when sweeping the floor
once a prideful objective;
that when you knocked at the door,
to show how prim and proper, the state of the floor.