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The Pleasure of Walking

In 2006, I quit the vast majority of intoxicants. I don't drink, I don't use recreational drugs, I don't smoke tobacco, I don't drink soda, and I am working on quitting all sweets entirely, and largely succeeding. I am not one for fine dining, and not frequently one for other forms of hedonism.

I usually do not advertise this - I might write about it for people who wish to know what I do, but I do not bring it up in conversation unless it comes up. But occasionally it does come up, and a common reaction is someone saying, half-joking, "Then why bother living?"

I think I understand. Many people do jobs they dislike for causes they feel nothing about. This must wreak havoc on a man's spirit. Most people spend more of their waking time on their work than any other thing - I can only imagine what spending the bulk of my time on something I disliked would feel like. Or worse, not even something I disliked - but something I felt very neutral about.

If a man's occupation becomes a slow crushing of his spirit, then of course he would need high energy, and high impact to free him from it. He needs to fit all of his leisure into his remaining waking time - from 6PM at night to 10PM when he is home from work, on the two days of his weekend, and his vacation time each year. Of course, not even that time is all his own - he still has to commute, run errands, do admin, do necessary little things. The reality of the situation is far worse - most people don't live bad lives, they just move slowly and quietly through things they don't particularly care for.

Of course, if a man only had 5% of his waking time to himself, he would want to maximize this time in the easiest, most surefire way of producing pleasure and relaxation. Who could blame this man? I don't. If I was suffering through a soul-killing occupation and had very little time, I would want to make sure that the time I did have was very enjoyable.

Coffee Blossoms

On Memories of home 'backayaad'

Cahfee blossoms heralding the berries. I find being able to pick my own berries and home roast them heightens my enjoyment of my obligatory cup in the morning. These berries pictured here are not quite ready for reaping. Once they acquire a red colour, they can be picked.

It reminds me of my grandmother who use to do the same thing. The berries were picked, washed and spread on the 'bahbecue' to dry in the sun and then roasted. The bahbecue was a flat concrete surface that was the catchment for the water tank. After roasting, the coffee beans were ground by hand in a mortar that was made from a tree trunk.

As a child, it was the greatest treat to be given the last sip of coffee from Mum's mug. We were too young at the time to be given a full cup but nothing could be more satisfying than to be the one chosen to receive the last treasured drop . To this day, I recall the taste of her coffee in which she added a tip of salt to enhance its flavour. She would also have a piece of hard dough bread (a type of bread that is firm and chewy) along with her morning mug, into which it was dipped and that too was shared with the grandchildren.

There are so may ways to enjoy coffee. My Aunt tells of her father making coffee with fresh warm goats milk with a kiss of cinnamon. I recently got three goats so soon I hope to put this recipe to the test. A cup of coffee sweetened with condensed milk and a teaspoon of vanilla is delicious. How do you take your coffee?

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