I have to divert a little this time.
Besides having a love for food and diversity, art and traditions,
music and dance, and nature and people-
I love cats.
I've always had a love for cats. Since before I can remember there existed
a mutual sympathy between cat and me.
My mom had a fable for Siamese, I was pleased with housecats.
To name a few special characters- Pablo, Figaro, Boswell,
Pablo was a big red tiger who showed his affection by jumping from the floor
to my shoulder in one go. Figaro on the other hand showed his affection by licking my toes and then falling sidewards over both my feet. Boswell as English as his name was very heavy and very black. He loved chewing and
After that there were decades without my own cat due to travels and work.
now Minou has arrived and is of course the smartest and most beautiful ever Monsiuer Minou alias Prince Blauband.
And I must say he is managing the full force of the undivided attention of
two aging artists with time on their hands in his stride.
He is already one year old and we were expecting a wildcat.
Instead we have a schmuse Meister, a master of cuddling,
who insists on cuddling before breakfast,
at midnight, or at 3 in the morning.
I very soon decided instead of opening a can,
to prepare some good stuff for him.
I recently had to laugh at myself since a bunch of people would equally
be satisfied with such a menu.
Chicken strips with carrots and herbs
Turkey cubes with olive oil and zucchini bits
Beef chunks with schrimp
Creamy oat porridge and quark
for desert a fingertip of butter or Philadelphia
Funny enough there a bunch of people more dedicated than me
on this theme
For those of you who don't speak German there are recipes for
Lamb Tortilla with cream sauce
Antipasta for il Gatto
and so fort.
Lothar says he doesn't mind if all three of us have lunch together
In the Autumn of 1974 I came to Sussex England to take part on a course
in Waldorf Education. I decided instead to study Eurythmy, which eventually
took me to Bonn, West Germany,
eventually meeting Lothar and the rest of my
But before I knew anything about all of that I took a first trip
to "the Continent"
as the English called that part of Europe not involving them.
December 1975 some friends took me along in their Austin Maxi.
It was certainly bigger than the Austin Mini, with its wooden sidings.
But not much.
So we travelled through the grey foggy cold of Winter to Stuttgart and Munich over the snowy Alps to Ravenna, Assisi, Rome, to old churches and museums.
A lot was different then. An Italian pensione only cost an English pound a night.
Tourists were less common and the proximity to war and poverty
It all made a very big impression on me, and I felt at home.
My favorite story from those days involved a cat.
We were in Ravenna, and as I tired of Celtic knots and Alabaster windows
I went to wait in the car. A very baroque styled and shaped Italian women
was very agitato because her precious Persian got out by mistake and
refused to come out from under the car parked in front of me.
I tricked him and grabbed him, all 20 pounds of spitting indignity
and brought him back to la mama and his abode.
What thankful gaiety pursued!
And since she spoke no English and I no Italian the common language
was food and she came repeatedly to the car with Vin Santo, cantuccinis,
and other divers tidbits which I'm sure she also shared with her cat.