In any event, I do recall the above exchange and I do agree that she was quite harsh about her mother. I sort of assumed, though, that she had her mother’s approval to say such things. It would appear that she has a bit of a sense of humour. I did not know that Alexandra had written a third book. I have yet to read the second which received very mixed reviews. But based on your recommendation, I will read the last.

I hope you are well and happy. xx

PS. Damn those grocers’ apostrophes.

Do you remember that we once spoke about Alexandra Fuller’s book ‘Don’t Let’s Go to the Dog’s Tonight’? You mentioned the book and I told you that I had already read it. I told you that my Malawi cousins know the family quite well. I also said that I thought the author was unfairly unpleasant about her mother. I was shocked that one could write a book like that about one’s mother.

My sister (who was born in Zambia) has just sent me another book by Alexandra Fuller. It is called ‘Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness’. There is much reference in it to ‘That Awful Book’ ie the first one. I am reading the more recent book at the moment. It gives a much better and kinder portrait of ‘Nicola Fuller of Central Africa’ as she likes to call herself in fun. I hope that you will read it too.

Enjoy the launch of the new face. Best wishesxxx

You will laugh, I am sure, but I am about to head out for the unveiling of a face. A friend of mine has just had a lift and now that the swelling has subsided she wants to show it off for the first time this evening. Cape Town women are obsessed by botox and boob-jobs. It really can get completely out of control. Women who allow themselves to grow old gracefully are generally far more attractive than those who insist in going under the knife and end up looking like startled burn victims. I am often asked for my opinion by women who are considering having something done and I am always ignored.

I had not thought about it when you first raised the waste/waist business, but it is rather in keeping with the theme of this blog. Four Candles/Fork Handles.

As an aside, I am pretty immune to teasing. I have a vast family and have, by necessity, developed a thick skin. That does not mean I am good at detecting irony and sarcasm, I am not. It just means that I don’t get offended by it.

I have been intrigued by your ‘what a waist/waste’ story for a long time. Excellent example of how things can be interpreted/translated in different ways, depending on context and perception. With a story like that, I do not need to know what the person really meant and after all, it is none of my business anyway. Wondering/wandering is far more interesting. Perhaps this is the definition of literature.

Translation is never easy and is almost always incomplete or inexact. Ultimately however, translation is always preferable to the laziness of never trying to understand. I think too that my remark about knowing that there will always be a seam of ignorance is linked to the ideas you raise about unread books. And like you, I always head for the bookshelves when I am a guest in someone else’s house.

I have not worn a ball gown for years. Actually, I have only ever owned one, and it was from a Laura Ashley sale. My sisters and I always used to go to formal affairs dressed in simple long dresses made of cotton.

The thing is that even when people do dress up, they behave so badly that the impact is wasted. No longer do demure young maidens stand bashfully waiting to be asked to dance by shy young men. Instead everybody arrives already tipsy, shouting inappropriately at each other across the room. Bah humbug!

Who cares about Umberto Eco and boring old books!

I have broken a rule. Never explain, never complain!

The answer to your question: ‘what a waist!’
I am an optimist and I love women.

Now that is a platitude!

I have my own question. In retrospect, which do you think it was :

‘What a waist!’ or

‘What a waste!’ ?

I have always wondered.