Author: Major Nigel (Page 2 of 39)

The Major returns !!!

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After receiving  many e-mails saying that your Sundays would not be the same without the old fellow, he is back. Thank you for caring as I had no idea that he mattered to you so much. Thank you.

 

 

I shot into my club the other day, panting like a fish out of water, and straight into my comfy wing-back chair by the large bay window with its glorious view of the harbour. I waved down my preferred waiter, Rogers, who leapt towards the bar at my unspoken but clear request for a restorative martini, not unlike plasma for a battleground wound. Some days are just like that, wouldn’t you say?
I know you must be wondering why your old Major would sprint to his sanctuary by the sea with his mind teeming in fear. The answer is: I read too much history, especially just before bed.

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The Major’s Corner…Caesar

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In 48 BC when Julius Caesar realized that Alexander the Great’s library was on fire with no chance of salvaging it, he threw himself on the ground and wept. He could not come to grips with the fact that he had destroyed something so precious, especially as his hero in life was Alexander.
Julius had kidnapped the boy-king Ptolemy, husband to his sister Cleopatra, in order to put her on the throne of Egypt, when the king’s army attacked the Romans in Alexandria. Caesar lit the merchant ships in the harbour on fire to create a diversion, but in doing so the harbour buildings began to burn and the blaze spread to the world-famous library with disastrous results. Built three centuries before by one of Alexander’s generals, it was the premier site of knowledge of its time, only to be lost in the end because of Caesar’s lust for the 21-year-old Cleopatra. But it proves the adage that you often hurt the thing you least want to.

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Under the Palapa…The Market

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I have always thought of myself as a normal type of person, not particularly good at much, but not a bad fellow, just middle of the road. The trouble is when you start to write this and that, you become a bit of a target in this very small town.
To go back a ways, when my wife Michelle headed to Calgary for the birth of our grandchild, her short visit turned into seven weeks, meaning I was dragooned into covering for her at the SPCA booth in the market every Saturday morning. I cleaned my uniform (a T-shirt) and bravely set out for the centre of the city with some trepidation, I might add, to help erect the little tent that houses the SPCA volunteers who raise funds for the dogs and cats at the “no-kill” sanctuary.
Everyone was kind as I tripped my way through the initial few weeks, often getting my facts wrong, such as the number of dogs available for adoption and how many of them people could take on a plane. By the fourth weekend I was enjoying myself enormously, with the good feeling of being part of a wonderful team doing something worthwhile.

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The Major’s Corner…Cheer-up.

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I know that I have written on this subject before as I want none of my loyal readers to think that their Major has lost the plot as it were, but we must begin to cheer up and put a little jump into our step. We have become I am afraid too dependent on the great nanny of government rather than the loving arms of our families which are after all designed to nurture and forgive us all our trespasses etc.
I am jumping around a bit I know but can one imagine living in London during the 17th century where one got a ringside seat to the bloodiest civil war in English history, followed by regicide, “warts and all” Cromwell, and 10 years of the depressing commonwealth. However that century was just warming up for it was visited no fewer than five times by our friend, the Black Death . 7000 London fatalities a week in 1665 with many unfortunates being boarded up alive in their hovels to stop the spread of the rat flea named Xenopsylla Cheopis.

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Under the Palapa… Binoculars.

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Two weeks ago I had my 70th birthday, which was lovely, if these things can be counted as lovely, since these celebrations heave us another step closer to the darkness.
Casey, a delicious female friend, said: “You will love your 70s, Chris,” which somehow helped. Might as well enjoy it, I mean there is not much I can do about it at this stage, is there? I still feel fairly good although I cannot squat anymore – it is just a lean-down kind of thing now.
I still go for runs along the malecon, but if I am fair, it is more like a quick shuffle than an actual run. I tell my wife it is so that I can see what is going on around me rather than a blur, as in the past. She just shakes her head sadly.
Just before my birthday, I had what I thought was a great idea: I would sit down and make a list of all those I might have upset over the last 70 years. I would prove to them that I have matured and ask for their forgiveness. It took longer than I thought, but luckily after a bit of research I found a good number had died, so that cut the list back a bit.
For some reason, none of the women took my calls and most of the guys just said “Mmmmmm.” One old fellow said he did not remember me doing anything wrong to him, so I reminded him, upon which he called me “a horrible bastard” and hung up. But the point of the exercise was that I would feel better and I did. That dreadful term “closure.”
One of my birthday presents was a pair of binoculars. I am not sure why the term should be a pair as you only get one, don’t you? The problem with English, eh? Anyway this gift has opened up a whole new world from our perch in the sky above El Centro, some of it surprising. For instance before the binoculars I could just make out in the distance a pretty mother breast feeding her child. I felt I was seeing the very essence of Mexican life. With some magnification my beautiful scene became a middle aged Mexican lady entertaining a small bald man on her lap. Shocked, I demurely looked elsewhere.
However most of the time I see splendid things with my new binoculars, such as ships arriving in the bay and fishing boats returning with their catches. There is also an enormous yacht in our bay so I drip with envy as I watch the on-board activity. It is I guess, the idle lower middle class looking at the idle rich. The life of our small city by the sea comes into focus every day and I am grateful for the gift.
On a sadder note, I am becoming more and more concerned with the dogs of our neighbourhood lately. There seems to be an explosion of numbers, as every balcony and rooftop has a sad story to tell of chained or restricted dogs left outside with no shade, sitting in their own waste. Day after day I watch these wailing animals bark away their existence without a sign of kindness from their so-called owners. It breaks my heart. I know many readers will say that if I don’t like it I should go home because this is Mexico. That was the position we used to take, but now that we have bought here and pay taxes we feel we are a part of this neighbourhood.
When I ask the locals why they do not complain about this open cruelty, they simply shrug and say they could never criticize a neighbour, however much they agree with us, because he/she would lose face.
I have called authorities but nothing much happens. Once someone showed up and took a few pictures of the outside of the house but nothing more. I sometimes wish we did not have such a wonderful view of the city and now recently enhanced by my birthday gift, as we are witness to much more than just the beauty of the glorious Pacific. We love it, of course, but now with a local perspective.
Copyright Christopher Dalton 2016

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