Smorgasbord of tastes
A LONDON man keeps tasting things throughout the day, ranging in flavour from roast lamb and tomato soup to jelly tots – a complete smorgasbord.
James Wannerton actually tastes his surroundings due to a rare neurological condition called synaesthesia. When he travels the London Underground, each station has its own taste, prompted by the name. It's been like that ever since he was a schoolboy.
Now Wannerton has produced a version of the familiar map of the London Underground, naming each station for its flavour. Names range from the good – fruitcake and ice cream – to the bad – hairspray.
He says his own home tastes of mashed potatoes. His neighbours' home is yoghurt, jelly beans and a subtle hint of a waxy substance.
Is all this some kind of gift or is it an affliction? Probably the latter. Wannerton says the wife of one of his friends induces a taste of vomit. (He's unable to tell them about it).
What would he make of the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties? Those of us with no more than a sense of smell detect in the gals a medley of beer, chewin' tobacco, red wine, garlic and good old-fashioned sweat. Nobody has ever complained of vomit – not yet anyway.
Old Man John
KWAZULU-NATAL'S skydiving octogenarian has died. "Old Man John" Browett, of Umkomaas, did his last skydive – his 888th – with friends in Miami, Florida, almost exactly a year ago while on a visit to the United States. Last week he died aged 87.
John Browett was born in Devon, England. He served with a paratroop regiment in World War II and after the war joined the Hong Kong Police where he eventually retired as Assistant Commissioner. Then he settled in Umkomaas .
At the age of 65 he took up skydiving and over the years did jumps in South Africa, Mozambique, Swaziland, Scotland, Spain, Hong Kong and the United States. In one skydive in California, all five participants were aged over 80 – their combined age was 409.
Some people do live life. I met John – a delightful character - at a convivial lunch here in Durban last year, soon after his dive in Miami, and I would have put him in his late sixties, no more.
Leap for life
A 78-YEAR-OLD pensioner tells me he had to leap for his life the other day when a Metro Police vehicle came belting through the pedestrian crossing he had stepped onto on the Marine Parade.
It was at North Beach, just behind Durban Surf Livesaving Club. He watched as the police car made its way down to the Metro Police post on the Lower Marine Parade.
Shaken, he nevertheless made his way down to the police post and accosted the driver of the vehicle.
This turned out to be not some junior constable but a senior officer. He treated the pensioner's complaint with absolute scorn and told him there are no pedestrian crossings on the Marine Parade, only speed bumps.
The Marine Parade is somewhat lacking in overhead pedestrian bridges, underpasses and foefie slides to allow people to reach the beach. The crossing the pensioner speaks of is indeed slightly raised, but the small ramps onto it are marked with chevrons which – world-wide – mean a pedestrian crossing.
The centre of this "speed bump" is paved, with bollards indicating where pedestrians should walk on.
A senior Metro Police officer doesn't even know the by-laws he's supposed to be enforcing? Scary stuff!
Targets
IN HIS LATEST grumpy newsletter, investment analyst Dr James Greener laments the targeting of those who obey the rules.
"So the E-Natis database of drivers and vehicles is flawed and nearly useless? I'll bet it is. The only halfway reasonable records will relate to those of us who have been brought up to respect and obey authority, to fill in forms diligently and accurately and who have stayed at the same address for years and years. Unfortunately that is as good as having a bull's eye tattooed on our forehead and wearing a T-shirt bearing the message: 'Taxpayer'."
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Tailpiece
TWO MEXICAN detectives are investigating the murder of Juan Gonzalez.
"How was he killed?" asks one.
"With a golf gun."
"A golf gun? What is a golf gun?"
"I don't know. But it sure made a hole in Juan."
Last word
Acting is merely the art of keeping a large group of people from coughing.
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