Sunday, February 18, 1996 @ 23h10

This week we had the heaviest snow-fall since my arrival at the end of October. In a 24 hour period over two days we had about 20-25cm of pristine (pollution and acid-free) schnee. Try walking from your tram to the office in leather soles! I destroyed my shoes in just 3 days! Wet socks in this weather is no fun, and who needs ice-skates when one has leather soles! Dangerous stuff I tell you. Anyway, this weather got me thinking...yes I sometimes do that! Skiing!! One of the reasons I accepted the job out here was that so I could get in more regular skiing. In my last letter I described the fiasco when I attempted to go skiing in Harrachov; id est, no fucking ski equipment for hire. Being a little depressed last week I rationalised that I'd collected enough "brown stars" to justify splashing out on a new pair of ski-boots. Nothing like blowing money to raise one's spirits.

Two days research led me to a little ski store about 2 blocks from my apartment. They were having an end of season sale, and had marked down a pair of boots that I used in Kitzbühel in December, namely Salomon Optima Ultra Light 6.2's (in my size - 345). Excellent! Kč 4,990 (ZAR 700) later I was the proud owner of an exceptionally comfortable pair of boots. What's really great about them is that they are the lightest boots on the market - 20% lower mass than your average boot. This enables one to ski longer and harder! Magic...now for the skis.

Not that easy. I have been looking for a Kneissl QR55 (or 77) "White Star" in either 190cm or 195cm format. No joy anywhere in Praha! OK, so I'll wait till I get down to Deutschland and will buy them there. In the interim I have traced 4 places in Prague that rent skis. One looks close - a suburb called Prague 5 - Radotín. At lunch time on Friday, Hana Jamel (regional Marketing Manager; Czech Canadian), Mary Gurdoch (Regional Financial Person; Irish teetotaller) and I jump into Hana's Skoda Favorit and head towards the rental shop. It's close...won't take us longer than an hour. Ha Ha...I forgot that this is the Czech Republic!

Prague 5 proved to be a lot larger than expected. After a lot of trial and error, braving the cold, asking people, and two hours searching, we found the place. "Tough shit guys, school holiday this Friday so there's been a rush on skis...all we have left are these 12 kilogram 1970's model floorboards"! At this stage I was pissed off enough to fork out the Kč 600 (ZAR 84) to hire the "skis" for 2 weeks (same price for one day!). After skiing on composite skis just about all my life, I really can't believe the weight! I envisage a nightmare on the slopes as I had decided to go for 190's - 5cm longer that I am accustomed to skiing. After dropping the skis at Mary's place we eventually got back to the office...3.5 hours later!! On Saturday morning I bought Fischer ski-poles for both Debs and I (Kč 680 [ZAR 95]). Set and ready for a full day's skiing on Sunday! Oh yes, I also got rubber treads bonded to the soles of my shoes...dry socks at last!!

Thursday, February 22, 1996 @ 22h36

So I have the Skoda....and I need a beer! Next problem. So you think 0,08% alcohol in your blood is low - in Prague the maximum allowable alcohol content is 0,0%. Fuck!! Imagine if they used that criteria outside my office in Jhb on a Friday evening. The entire Tax Division would spend the weekend in the "tjookie"! I won't even mention the Baron & Quail or the Keg & Guzmán (aka Hound). Fuck, no wonder your average Czech has a limited capacity to smile! ;-)

Evening falls, and I'm all shopped out after visiting the local Ikea (Swedish furniture) store. It took me two cursed hours to find the damn place...and it's a very frustrating shopping experience once you're there, but that will be the subject of a future chapter. I trundle back home in the high-tech Czech sports car. What to do tonight? Read the entertainment section of the weekly English newspaper, The Prague Post. Come across a group called Sto Zvírat (which apparently means "100 Animals") playing at a small club just over the Charles Bridge near where Debs, André Smurf and I stayed in 1991. The club is called Malostranská Beseda, and Sto Zvírat starts at 20h00. Forgot all about the 0,0%.

The club is wonderful. Old, well used, smoky, apparently the hang-out of dissidents (including the then future President Havel and his recently deceased wife), loads of character. It has a real stage with a vaulted ceiling. Small dance floor in front of it, with tables radiating away from it in a tiered, fan-shaped sweep. The Urquell comes in 500ml bottles, and costs Kč15 (ZAR2.00). The group comes on stage on time...take note South Africa! The place is packed.

What an evening. Remember the 80's and a group called Madness? Well, this is "One Step Beyond" Madness - it's Madness singing Czech! I haven't enjoyed an unknown group so much in years. It's a 6 piece - huge, ugly as sin, "Buster Bloodvessel" drummer who sings vocals on a few tracks; insane, eccentric honky-tonk keyboard player dressed in yellow and black suit; stunningly beautiful, tall (+2m !!) stukkie on vocals...and what a deep voice; smiling, laughing, open faced tenor sax player; serious, po-faced guitarist; and a thin, lanky, big-eared, nervous looking basist. They look the part of a ska band - each of them an absolute character (or should that be caricature?). The music was...ska...2-tone of top quality! I stayed for all 3 sets, quaffed a few pints, and bought the CD for Kč 200 (ZAR 28) as I left. Oh shit...road-blocks! Double shit - I was supposed to have met Hana Jamel and her friend Tim at the pub just below my flat in Holesovice at 21h00.

Harties, remember at varsity how cautious we used to be when leaving the New Union Hotel after closing time? Get into the Fiat 125, you navigate, I steer, back roads, to Lynnwood via the Union Buildings, Unisa and Lynnwood Drive-In, 20 km/h, 2 hours to cover 7 km, paraletic drunk? Well I was sober by SA standards, but just as paranoid! It paid off, and I avoided everything with a badge, getting to O'Brien's Pub just as Hana and Tim were about to leave. I convinced them to stay (or was it the other way around) for an ABF, and we got down to some serious "Half-and-Half" (Chris-Jan, dis nou 50:50's - half dark lager and half light lager... marvellous) Krusovice's interspersed with the occasional Becherovka and Fernet. The latter is another traditional Czech mind- blower. It's like drinking a shot of pure Angostura Bitters and certainly makes you consume your pint a lot quicker...it's the only way to get rid of that vile taste! Luckily home and bed was just a flight of stairs (actually an elevator ride) away!

06h30 on Sunday morning, and my lips are stuck to my gums; my tongue is stuck to my palate; my eye-lids are stuck to each other. There's a fork and a half finished tin of piri-piri pilchards on the floor next to my chair. I guess wine-tasting is out of the question. I'm "sitting and looking" (nê Vorster-san?) at my hi-fi. The light in the room is still on, the CD player is set to "repeat", the Sto Zvírat disc is just about played through, and my neck feels like "Die Boksburg Bomber's" broken fists. I've got to go skiing?? Thank Allah for Essentiale and Eno (of which supplies are running dangerously low!).

The car's in my name...I guess I'll drive. Shit. Not a six-pack in sight dear friends - not your average drive to Sodwana! It's apparently a two hour drive to the ski resort called Spindleruv Mlýn, north of Prague on the Polish border. In a Skoda Favorit...you've got to be joking. 120 km/h is max with three up and a load of skis. By the way, the "car" does not have a roof-rack so we have 4 sets of skis (Hana brought along an extra pair belonging to a friend of hers) inside the 2.5 metre vehicle. There are 2 pairs of 190's resting on the dashboard, and two sets of 180 pushing the middle of the gear-lever. This was never one of the tests at the AA's Advanced Driver's Course!! Safe?? I was so pissed I couldn't have given a fuck (literally and figuratively)! Hit the road.

Wenesday, February 27, 1996 @ 23h30

Try getting a Favorit up an icy hill! If you gear down you start wheel-spinning and end up going downhill backwards! Maintain your velocity and you'll possibly make it over the crest of the hill, but you have a problem if there's a hairpin (or sharp) bend at the start of the hill. My terrified passengers found out that I am able to successfully execute a 4-Marie-Biscuit drift in a Skoda, avoid gearing down, and make it over hills in 5th! Yeeeah Haaaaa!! Fucking hairy - it felt like doing Magoebaskloof in my Spider...in slow motion.

The total return trip took us about 5 hours. We heard on the radio that it took some people 8 hours in one direction! We were bright (i.e. lucky and/or stupid) enough to have taken the back roads through Harrachov to Spindleruv Mlýn - possibly more snow around than the main routes, but much less traffic. On the main routes there were Skodas, Trabants, Wartburgs and Ladas doing backward pirouettes down hills all over the place. Absolute havoc on the roads! We saw entire families pushing their straining little 2-stroke vehicles up ice-clad hills. These luckless individuals made it to Spindleruv Mlýn by closing time. We, on the other hand, were lucky enough to have the opportunity to ski on relatively empty slopes, and not face any queues at the chair lifts!

Spindleruv Mlýn is very pretty and has modern ski facilities - magnetic card access to the lifts and new chair-lifts. The run from the top to the bottom of the peak we elected to ski was about 4.5 kilometres long, offering kindergarten, blue, red and black runs. When we arrived I spotted a ski rental place just off the car park, and decided to take a quick look. They had far better skis than we had managed to hire in Praha, so I took a pair of 190's at a mere Kč120 (ZAR16.85) a day! A day pass for the ski lifts was also cheap at Kč310 (ZAR43.50). The snow conditions were excellent - certainly the best quality snow I've skied on since my first efforts back in 1978 (remember the 70's?). Fresh, crisp, powdery, dry, slush and ice free, and well packed on the pistes. Superb...just a pity about the fucking weather!!

Sunday, March 3, 1996 @ 22h55

The first run or two were quite difficult - new boots, longer skis and, most complicating, thick mist. The lack of direct or indirect sunlight on a ski slope can be a killer. You lose all depth of field, don't see the contours of the slope or shape of the bumps, and under- estimate gradient. Multiply that difficulty factor by ten when there's mist! We could see just about fuck-all! Skiing blind is physically challenging and mostly terrifying at my level of competence! But we had made the Herculean effort to get to Spindleruv Mlýn and, by God, I was going to ski!!

I forgot to mention that this was Gary's third time on skis...ever! Furthermore he's not the epitome of athleticism. Our trip up the mountain on the chair lift was the first time he had ever been on any form of ski lift! I left Hana to deal with him...by the time they had got half way down the mountain I had done the full 4.5 km two and a half times. At that half-way point there was a kindergarten slope where Hana and I decided to leave Gary (as it was also accessible by road if there was no other way to get him off the mountain! To orientate him to the ski lift in operation on this slope, we skid down to it with him.

The lift in question is called a Button or "Pommel" lift, depending on which country you're skiing in. Essentially it is a metal disk of 25cm diameter connected at its centre to a spring loaded bar which, in turn, is connected to an overhead steel cable running up the hill. The cable is in continuous motion, and skiers file in one by one, take the gap, grab the bar, put the disk between their legs, brace themselves, wait for the spring to take up slack, and get gently pulled up hill. In theory. Unfortunately this was the button lift from hell ( i.e. the Czech Republic)! The jerk of the spring taking up slack was about 8 G's!! On my first ride I picked up a bad whip-lash, and almost lost my manlihood as the bar responded to the spring. And Gary was a virgin lift-rider. Oh fuck.

About 30 attempts (and about an hour and a half) later Gary managed to get up the slope, falling off at the end of the ride. By that time I had skid the kindergarten a dozen or more times, eventually taking to the trees and powder on the fringe to make it more challenging. I was also carrying Gary's poles as he could not cope with them in his hands. Once he was up, I was off - red slope beckoned! I think Gary spent the rest of the day trying to ride the button lift! Unfortunately he does not drink - the beer Hana and I had for lunch loosened the limbs and dulled our sensibilities!

We had fun on the red slope, but it became more and more difficult as the mist thickened. It had also started snowing, but we coped with this by consuming regular Beherovka's and Jägermaister's - nothing better to dull the pain in one's legs and give one courage! The wind picked up, and conditions became even worse. Hana and I climbed aboard the chair lift, and they closed the gates behind us. We were the last up, and then they were closing the slope because it was getting too dangerous! My moustache, beard and mütze were iced solid by this time, and the top of the mountain was like the Arctic in mid-winter. Scott of the Antarctic died in conditions like this - a roaring gale, pelting snow, freezing cold, and zero visibility. Just to prove how bad the conditions were I shot some video that I watched today. Hana was about two metres away from me, and you can only just see her!! Fuck, the trip down was a nightmare - skiing a blizzard is no fun. At one stage I thought that Hana had damaged her knee really badly, but she managed to endure the pain and made it down. The girl really had balls!

On the way down we picked up Gary who had managed to make it up the button lift again. As the lifts had closed, he was going to have to ski down! Luckily he couldn't see the gradient that he was taking on. Can you imagine "Bambi On Ice"; well that was Gary! No co- ordination, no control, no clue! But he did get down which I suppose is something to his credit.

The conditions on the road on the way back were far worse than the drive up. Luckily Hana drove, and I caught up on the occasional cat nap in between near-death experiences on the road! It was good to get into a hot bath and sleep. Kitzbühel is definitely skiers heaven, and I certainly look forward to my next trip to Austria!

The only problem is trying to get a visa to take in a week's skiing there. What they require from South Africans is the completed official form, a passport photo, a print-out of one's bank statement, one's Czech residence permit, proof that one has medical insurance, and a letter of invitation to visit Austria (from an Austrian citizen and resident). Oh yes, then they charge one for the privilege of processing the visa (for the length of one's visit only) and take 4 days to issue the fucking thing! Hey, all I want to do is spend money in their fucking country and aid their ailing economy...but I think I've told you all of this before...Haven't I Hartmut??

My latest adventure happened last week, starting on Friday, February 23. Just after my arrival here I contacted old friend and music-lover Allen König who is now resident in München. We last spoke at the beginning of November, and in the interim Allen had moved house and I had been unable to contact him. I had also e-mailed Hartmut who didn't know Al's new details either, as well as Al's brother (Mark) in Cape Town from whom I had received no response by Thursday 22nd. Regardless, I was determined to go to Deutschland just to get out of the Republic for a while. On Friday morning I got a fax from Mark with Allen's new address and home number. Unfortunately he was already at work and by the time I left Prague at 17h00, and all I had managed to do was leave a message on Allen's answering machine saying that I was driving to München, and that I hoped to see him there. Only problem was I had absolutely no idea where to find Dietersheim, the village outside the city in which Allen stayed.

Having learned from the previous week's experience, I arranged for a bigger and better car for this trip. What I got was the latest Volkswagen built Skoda, namely the Felicia, and specifically the 4-door hatch-back version, the Kombi. The car was still new, having only 2,000 km on the clock. The sticker (in Czech) said "please do not exceed 110 km/h for the first 5,000km". Ha Ha!

I decided to try two different routes on my way out and back. Going to Germany I took the south-westerly road to Passau, and returning to the Czech Republic I took the northern route via Landshut, Deggendorf and Plzeň. Harties, have a look at map of this region. On the road between Passau and Deggendorf , in between the villages of Iggensbach and Garham, is the Ohe River, which flows into the Donau (Danube)!!

Back to the drive. Luckily the weather was fairly good, and I didn't have to contend with snow or rain, but the road to Passau ran out of highway not too far out of Prague. The roads became narrower and narrower as the evening progressed, and the drive became more and more challenging - especially as the altitude increased. Deserted mountain passes in the forest - the collective minds of Holger, Tommy, Harties and I immediately turn to motor-cycles and sports cars! I can't wait!! In winter, alone, at night, on ice, trying to read a map is a different story. Perhaps I should have taken the train.

When I got to the Czech border post I got another taste of the now customary Czech hospitality. Yes, you guessed it, my visa was not in order. Apparently I was supposed to have some fucking rubber stamp on the back of the piece of paper issued to you when you enter the country. I would either have to go to the office of the Foreign Police in Prague to get this cursed stamp, or I could pay the fuckhead in the Nazi overall a gratuity of Kč 500 (ZAR 70) and he would personally rubber stamp the wretched thing for me. Flashbacks to December and the two experiences Debs and I had on the Austrian border, and to the equally hospitable border jockeys in old Peru! I paid and got the fuck out of there.

Early in the journey I had experienced a slight irritation in my left eye. There was a scraping in the lower lid which was, by the time I got into Germany, becoming a real nuisance. The eye was watering, my vision was blurring, and the lower lid was swelling. Luckily I was now driving on the exceptionally well prepared, marked and signposted German roads, so I really only needed one eye!

The autobahns are great. Speeds are unlimited in the rural areas, and the drivers are generally well disciplined. Even I have to admit (albeit painfully) that the BMW drivers were...almost OK. As in SA they drive like cowboys, however, they also show a degree of consideration and limit the use of their brights and fog-lights. These eye-ball melting devices are only switched on when Czech plated Skodas drift within the BMW's one kilometre striking distance! Arse holes! The Benz drivers weren't much better.

Monday, March 4, 1996 @ 21h05

After taking a little unplanned detour through Passau ("Oh fuck...was that the München offramp!?! How the hell do I get out of this place?"), I made the autobahn to my fairly undefined destination. Friends, take a 1:400,000 map of southern Germany and fold to Munich. Note the 20,000 small villages and suburbs surrounding the megalopolis. How the fuck was I supposed to find Dietersheim while travelling at 140 km/h (believe it or not) at night! HA!!

By 22h00 the centre was getting closer when I spotted a name that I recognised - Schwabing! Now where have I encountered that name before? What the hell, take the offramp. I got off the autobahn and found a filling station where I pulled over to stare aimlessly at the map. After 5 or 10 minutes I decided to give up and head for the red light district near the Haupt Bahnhoff where Debs, André and I stayed some years ago. As I was folding the map, a name caught my eye...Dietersheim! I couldn't spot it for two minutes, and then found it again. It was on main road number 11. I looked across the street at the nearest road sign and, lo and behold, I was on road 11, facing in the right direction!! Unbelievable.

Half an hour later I drove into the hamlet of Dietersheim and took the first street to the left. Peering through my grubby window I had my second stroke of luck - 200 metres further on I found the road in which Allen stayed. I turned right into it and a few houses down and I found what I thought was his house. Parked the car, walked in, looked at the doorbell - "ALLEN KÖNIG"!! Viva! Unfortunately the arsehole was not home!

I wrote a note and left it on the door. Just as I was reversing out of the drive a young chap walked in. He lived with his mother in the downstairs apartment and said he would try to find out where Allen was. As he was doing so, a car pulled up, and out jumped the man himself! Excellent! To cut a long story short (phew, aren't you lucky!) we cruised into Schwabing, grabbed a few ales at a Tex-Mex place, and generally had a fine time.

Germany is weird. Superb infrastructure, advanced economy, leading edge technology...but every fucking thing closes at midnight!! Try and find a pint, a packet of slap-tjips or a pizza after pumpkin time! HA!! Fat chance!! So back to the Felicia we go, and onto the autobahn. Picture this: Pautz and König, pissed, in a Czech Skoda, at 140 km/h (!!!), on the München Autobahn, listening to classical music (no jokes, that's all we could get on the radio - all the stations seem to vanish at midnight as well)! I would never have visualised that 10 to 15 years ago, even in my wildest dreams! Luckily some things remain constant - we got back to Dietersheim and poured ourselves a shot of good whiskey, selected some good CD's, and spoke shit till 3 in the morning.

Another problem with München/Schwabing is the damn prices! Two beers at the Tex-Mex place set us back DM 18. Sheeeet! I thought that Erdingers were expensive at the Keg & Hound - they're more fuckin' expensive in Erding!! Holy Whack! The prices really hit home on Saturday morning when Allen took me on a shopping tour in the pedestrian zone to the south of the Bahnhoff. It's certainly not a place for the faint of wallet! The Rand was looking like Monopoly money last weekend as well - the currency fluctuation of the preceding week had just given me a 2.5% increase! Ja manne, stick to holidays in Bloemfontein.

Allen was very patient with me. I was trying to find a certain model of ski both for myself and Debbie, and a specific model of ski-boot for her. Debs - no joy I'm afraid; you seem to be popular size - the model and size of boot and ski that you need are unavailable in both Praha and München. I found only one set of the model ski that I wanted and had to settle for 190's - five centimetres shorter than I was prepared to risk. But what the hell. I also picked up a set of last year's boot bindings (made by Marker) at a pretty good price, and had the store do the full mounting, adjustment and fine-tuning. It was time for bier und weisswurst!

Listen to this faux pas. We go to this beer hall - Löwenbrau - and order 3 weisswurst and a weissbier each. The order arrives, and I jump in with gusto, hacking off a piece of weisswurst with my knife and fork. I pop the piece into my mouth, chew away, take a mouthful of the good beer, sallow and sit back satisfied. Allen and the people sharing the table with us are all staring at me absolutely gob-smacked! After Allen had given me a five minute lecture on Bavarian etiquette I learned that one is supposed to treat the weisswurst like Divine Brown treated Hugh Grant! Stick the short, thick, white sausage between your lips and suck like hell! After you've sucked out all the meat you're left with a shrivelled up skin which looks remarkably like a used condom (or so I'm told...I actually wouldn't know...I've never seen one...trust me!)!! Allen pointed out the correct technique at the table just across from us. There was this beautiful, blonde, Bavarian lass sucking away...in front of her parents!! Skande!! Do these people have no shame, no sense of morals!!?! Now I know why I've dated more German girls than any other nationality ;-)!

The other option was to cut the skin off - delicately - without damaging the sausage! That's probably why Hitler wanted the Rabbi's out of Germany - they were probably more skilled at circumcising a weisswurst than he was!! Stupid cunt that Hitler! Phew! What a lunch break. We went back to Allen's place and caught a few hours sleep after all that excitement. Later that evening we went out to eat, having a good Indian curry. But fuck my lame dog, is any curry for two worth DM 92? These German Indians are crazy! I take back everything bad I've ever said about Praha.

Allen faded at about 00h00, and I decided to watch a bit of MTV and catch up on a bit of channel surfing (you miss these small luxuries!). Hold me back...I found the local soft-porn channel! "Emmanuel IV" is an absolute waste of time, but it's the most titillation I've had since January the 8th at 07h55! I only got to bed at 03h00, much against my better judgement. The road back to Praha lay ahead later that morning.

On Sunday, Allen took me to a place in a nearby village that did an excellent ENGLISH breakfast. There is a God - a place that opens on Sunday AND that serves bacon and eggs! Brilliant. Debs, I saw your boots in a shop just down from the breakfast place so now I know where to go!! At about lunch time Allen and I said our farewells and I hit the long trail back to Praha. Al, thanks for your hospitality, putting me up for two nights, and the excellent weekend. I haven't had such a good talk since my last visit to the kitchen in Eric Street over the Oktoberfest weekend! I will visit again (if I'm welcome) and you have to get across to Prague. I'll show you a good time, "this place has everything, c'mon, I'll show you" (James Douglas Morrison).

The drive back via Plzeň (the home of Pilsner) was eventful! The autobahn was great, and the scenery improved as the altitude increased. Loads of snow, and there seemed to be good skiing in the region. Approaching the Czech border I drove into the little village of Regen. It was truly beautiful - frozen river, swans an ducks in an open patch of water, a quaint church, lots of snow, old buildings - a real chocolate box picture. I stopped to shoot some pictures and roll some video. That being done I walked back to the Felicia, unlocked the door, and climbed into the driver's seat. n front of me on the dashboard was a flashing LED just above a round sensor before which I was supposed to wave immobiliser gizmo... which had somehow disappeared from the fucking key-ring!! The alarm went off and I couldn't switch it off!

An immobilised Vaalie in a Czech-plated Skoda in Germany is not a good thing to be! Half an hour later and half of Regen were peering out their windows to look at the Czech arse-hole making all the noise on a Sunday. Can't take these fucking Czechs anywhere! I had searched just about everywhere (including in and around the car, my camera bags, and the snow I stood in when taking the pictures), and was heading for the tool kit to disconnect the battery when I thought that I'd take one final look inside the car. Rubber floor mat, one little wrinkle, gap just large enough for the immobilisor to fall into. There it was, alarm off, townsfolk back to their gefuffeling, and Pusty the Pole back on the road! Fuck it, why can't my life be simple! To paraphrase Charles Dickens:

Tell me about it!

I was looking forward to seeing Plzeň, the home of one of my favourite Czech beers available in Suid Afrika, namely Pilsner Urquell. Guys, if you saw the brewery you would spew your Urquell! It's absolutely grotesque - filthy dirty - and looks like a pre-industrial revolution factory. I found it hard to believe that such a good product came out of THAT. No wonder Czechs only drink the stuff as a last resort! The drive back to Prague took the same length of time (excluding the unscheduled stop at Regen and the traffic jam outside Deggendorf). It was great to get back home. Driving alone is great...in an Alfa Spider in the summer! No fun in a Skoda in the snow (after the night before!). Luckily the only crashing I did was on my futon.

Oh, by the way, I forgot to keep you updated on my eye. By Saturday morning it was totally stuffed. Swollen like the Boksburg Bomber's, watery, with blurred vision. Al took me to an emergency pharmacy where I got some Noviform cream. After a full day's use the only effect it had was to blur my vision even further! On Sunday I drove back like a Cyclops. "Emmanuel IV" at 03h00 hadn't helped either. When I got into my flat I remembered my mother's cure-all remedy - two "Safrican" Codis dissolved in a glass of water. I popped the tabs and by the time I got to sleep a few hours later the eye was fixed - and it hasn't given me a moments trouble since! Thanks Blossom, you're a star. Mothers always know best!

Monday, April 8, 1996 @ 22h55

My dear friends, March has been a month to remember! So much to talk about, but I also need to finish this communiqué. It's late and I'm tired, so I leave you with some of my "poetry". Read about March in Chapter 4....if you can cope!

Thanks for persevering this far!

Cheers,

MARK LYNDON PAUTZ