Leonard Crate's Notes

That bastard Alfonzo was found. Turns out after that after the evening when I threw him on his ear from my window he took off down the street on foot.

Alfonzo is a remarkable long-distance runner; I recall reading a magazine article many years ago about a festival where a man was pitted against a hyaena on a dirt circuit. They ran for 37 hours and in the end the hyaena collapsed from exhaustion and the human was declared the winner. That man was Alfonzo the devil!

So he ran from my home in Woodstock all the way down the highway towards Stellenbosch where he collapsed in a vineyard. The farmer found Alfonzo in the morning and sprayed him with his hose-pipe. After that they were friends and Alfonzo spent the next week or so tending to the farmhouse.

Alfonzo was a carpenter in Italy and is a wizard around any home.

So he turned up with some cold cash in his pocket and a clean blazer yesterday. We went for a jaunt and rolled around the town like two prairie dogs.

Ah, the good and the bad…

LC

Well it has almost been a week since I last put digital pen to paper dear slags. BUT I do have an excuse - I was rioting in front of an abandoned parking lot with my dear pal Ginsburry. Ginsburry is an environmentalist of sorts, loves trees, hates monkeys though. He believes monkeys will inherit the earth when humans wipe each other out. And he thinks a monkey robbed his tent one evening and stole his favourite long-johns.

So Ginsburry needed support in drumming up some publicity for a tree that was going to be demolished. He strapped his naked body to the bark with heavy chains and refused to leave. One night the temperature dropped to a chilly 7 degrees Celsius. I had to connect a hair-dryer to a car battery and warm the poor sod up.

We were eventually thrown in the chookie for the night and the tree was cut down.

Ginsburry is furious and vows to retaliate with force. I’m off for an after-brunch nap. Rain makes me uneasy. Reminds me of the trenches.

LC

It’s a Friday men! Pull yourselves together and let’s sell some tomato!

Renowned hotspot for hipsters of all degrees is Woodstock. Will you see me there? Drinking chilled Apple Cider? Wearing my sunnies from Waiting For The Sun? I’d bloody think so.

Oh, but you’ll spot me in the more trendy part of Woodstock. Albert Hall part. Where the vibe is thick with edge and excitement. Is that a street dweller? No! It’s a hipster wearing old knits from the cupboard of a war vet. Don’t speak of the war; makes me nervous.

I’m tired of typing while I hold my drink and stroke my beard while doing up my tie.

Where’s my quill? F-the quill. Make me a mustard sandwich with gherkins.

LC

I was walking the streets of hipness when some guys girlfriend stopped and chatted me up. The boyfriend was visibly angry and awkward. And so I pulled her a few yards off and gave her my cellular number for a future rendezvous. She laughed loudly and blushed when I said her shoe was extremely fashionable.

The boyfriend then huffed and shouted “Hey man! Go away! Who are you? Nobody!”

I’ll tell you who I am fucker! I am Leonard Crate. I am suave. I am happy. I am angry. I am an enigma. I am awesome. I wear shoes that are made by the finest Italian men money can satisfy. I am a dancer. I am a magnet of success and my I.Q is almost double what I weigh. (I weigh just under 70 kg’s if you want to know). I have a long mustache. I wear socks that are made specifically for my foot. I like animals. I love garments. I am a LION. My hair is as silky as a weasel. 

And I will steal your woman! Hahahaha!

LC

It is extremely chilly in Cape Town and I am in a furious mood because I went for lunch and ordered some fish, only to regret not eating pasta.

I love pasta. It is a rare thing to find someone who can make a good dish of pasta. “The secret is in the cook…” is what my old colleague from Rome used to tell me.

He was a chef-master. I would test him often; one night I gave him only two small potatoes, a can of gherkins and a box of old cereal - he ended up cooking a feast for 20 people…one of the best meals I ever did eat. A miracle I cried! A miracle!

LC

Hello humans of the wild!

My good friend from Sweden jetted in this weekend for a wild furore of a time! His name is Elbat and did we have a swinging time.

Elbat is a fashion man and often wears cloaks and coats that have people in spinning frenzies. I recall a horse race we went to in 1993, Elbat wore a purple coat and a marvellous yellow top-hat; there was so much attention on his uniform that the race was cancelled because the horses were just doing small springs into the air and squealing. Mayhem! Elbat was banned from all horse racing events indefinitely.

Elbat now enjoys the Formula 1 season.

Anyway, Elbat was in town to dance and conclude a deal to export small bags of grain. He says he has a plan to put the grain into silk bow-ties and sell them for extravagant prices. Elbat is a genius.

We shook the town like a mad goose and Elbat then hired out the roof of a hotel. I wore a dashing green blazer, but I had to take it off at midnight because two girls fainted when I moved across the dance-floor.

LC