Living in Kenya my parents brought me for my birthday to Tsavo National Park and after getting up befor the sun came up having a cup of tea on the Veranda wrapping up in a sweater and watching my mother pack up some fruit and sandwiches for the morning game drive... getting to Mzima Springs and being able to walk down to the springs themselves and look at the hippos in the water.... sitting in the pic-nic area and trying to eat our brunch without the food being stolen by the many monkeys that live by the springs... of course me being a stupid child ! wanted to feed the cute monkeys so bananas were opened and handed to this particular monkey who obviously was brave enough to come very close to us... eventually the fruit was finished and he was not happy so he decided to attack me and sunk his very sharp teeth into my hand... I ended up having to be brought nearly 200 miles to a hospital where I ended up having 5 stitches and a course of Rabies shots just in case.... my hand s! till bears the scar and I NEVER tried to feed the monkeys or any other wild animal ever since !!!! Best wishes Mo LenDenham@aol.com wrote: Hello All It is almost lunchtime on Saturday and a beautiful day here in Oxfordshire. I was thinking what I might usefully contribute to prove that I, too, am still here when I recalled a similar weekend in 1936 or thereabouts. Around this time my Aunt Mabel took me, one Sunday morning just before lunch, to a little shop of sorts at the top of Lowfield Road in West Hampstead, which sold beer and vinegar. Nan would often have a small jug of stout, which she kept hidden under the dresser behind the cloth curtain that concealed the coal box. Nan drinking beer was definitely not acceptable in grandfatherâs eyes. But this morning we were to purchase vinegar for mint sauce. Nan had chopped the mint leaves on her chopping board ready. Aunt Mabel, then about 24 years old, took an empty bottle and off to the shop we went. When the bottle was filled I begged to be allowed to carry it and Aunt Mabel gave in. Just over half way home I tripped over and fell breaking the bottle and placing the palm of my hand neatly upon the jagged glass. Blood, tears and vinegar everywhere! Poor deaf Mabel was distraught. By good fortune a passer by transpired to be a first-aider and bandaged me up and we arrived back at the house safely but without vinegar or bottle. Sixty-eight years on I still bear the scar to remind me of this episode. Anybody else got a scar to remind them of something? Len ============================== Gain access to over two billion names including the new Immigration Collection with an Ancestry.com free trial. Click to learn more. http://www.ancestry.com/rd/redir.asp?targetid=4930&sourceid=1237 --------------------------------- ALL-NEW Yahoo! Messenger - all new features - even more fun!