Ronald Searle died

Circus cat, secretly rehearsing Hamlet

Update: He lived nearby, actually, in Draguignan (north of St. Tropez), where the headquarters of the French Artillery are located, the final stop of the local choochoo-train that also stops in Le Trayas

Bible Studies (1)

We wear hiking boots and sticks and are well-prepared for our walk along the squirrel path here in Bürchen, where the life of the squirrel is explained on educative tableaux, while little man-made squirrel nests are invitingly set next to the path every hundred meters or so. Occasionally, a real squirrel shows up. Almost back home in the chalet zone, we have to descend a steep trail, the Oberer Eggaweg. It rains, we slip, we lie on the ground. Something is amiss. It must be the right foot. We can still move it, though. So we should be OK. We’re trying to get back up, but a sudden pain sets our sensitive nerves alight. We’re hurt. Hit. We’ve broken something. We’re lying on the ground in the pouring rain. We're not feeling well, not at all. Chang cries out aloud, in the middle of all these chalets, "HELP, HELP." But the Swiss Frank is too strong,   the chalets are empty (Switzerland has become too expensive for tourists), nobody comes to help us, and we will die. 

Stay tuned.

New Bern, North Carolina

What was this?



Yes, it was a bear, or at least a representation of one.

The "logo," of New Bern is the bear, Ann explains at the reception of the local Hampton Inn, and since the town is celebrating its 300's birthday, bears are all over the place.




The local tourist board (Ann is a member) asked businesses to commission a bear of their liking (inside fairly strict rules). America at its best.

New Bern's claim to fame? It's the birthplace of Pepsi Cola.

Vom Eise befreit

Dirk Sch. sent us this charming picture, and it brings to mind the mysterious scriptwriter that we met the other day on the Croisette. You may recall that he handed us a stack of manuscripts before his unfortunate disappearance in the Bay of Cannes.


Hidden in this heap was a single sheet of paper, not attached to any of his hopeless feature scripts ("Lethal Weapon meets Dr. Strangelove"). The sheet was covered with three handwritten lines, and nothing else. Here they are:

It's hardly legible, and it's in German, but here is the Google translation:

"Are freed from ice streams and creeks,
Spring holder, invigorating look,
Springeth in the valley hope luck."

Yes, I know. Perhaps I should not have brought this up. Perhaps it isn't German after all. Plus, it's unfortunate that his "poetic" lines do not really match the beautiful winter theme of Dirk's picture. One starts to understand why the washed-up scriptwriter had to end the way he did.