Thursday, April 16, 2009
Mind you it does lend some credence to the Supreme Lime 's claim to be from the subcontinent and speak with a heavy mock Indian accent.
Any takers for this costume at the next Lime Festival?
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Supreme Lime
The Sublime Lime Orchard
LEAVEN 28 March 2009
His Limliness says:
Greetings to you my very especially esteemed Lime King
And also to your most well intended and well endowed fellow Limists.
This letter may come as a very surprise to you – in case of which that will make us both very surprisable.
As you would be fully and comprehensively aware I am omnipresent and in the general matter of communication I am not inclined to writing.. In the very generally speaking sense, my very presence with you has been sufficiently sufficient to meet our both of us needs - yours a humble human needing to believe in something beyond your rear ended housing accommodation and mine to build a magnificently magnificent network of supporters to be assisting me in my quest to being acknowledged as the leading and divine lime and rightly royal Mahārāja of the vegetable and fruit dynasty. But more of that in a very little moment.
Firstly and first of all you may be wondering or not wondering as it is your worthiness to choose as to my unaccustomed accent.
When I was last in a speaking relationship with you I was in a very clever way masquerading as a tahiitan – no small feat for a rajhanastani maharaji. You may have wondered at the excessive use of eye enhancing kohl and my sideways waggling of the cranium in answer to your questions.
I have now find it necessary to inform you most humbly that I am indeed of Indian descent – my great great great great grand parents were uprooted from their native soil by most unscrupulous traders many many tangerines ago and transplanted to far away countries where they were bearing the fruit of their limes on foreign soil.
But I am full of too much informations and not too much communications. You might say I am in a digressing state of mind.
It is now time to return to the most at hand matter. World fruit and vegetable type domination.
oooh my esteemed Lime Maharaja, as my earthly embodiment I have totally faithfulness in your present and current strategy of building a group of dessicated followers who are passionfruit about spreading the good news. It is also pleasing to my esteemedness to be enjoying Princess Cherabine Babi Bebidorf’s rise to deity status.
But now to businesses. I am not a happy little vegelimelight (he he he – It is my funny little Australian joke) I am urging you and your vegelites to quadruple your redoubled efforts. I understand that the root crops have formed an undergrounding movement and are planning an uprising.
There is also rumours of unrestings in the extended fruit family. Even the tomatoes and avocados are claiming to have fruitable heritage and are in the joining of forces with Granny Smith and her nieces the Pink Ladies against me – such an innocuous naming but such terrible intentions beneath their skirts and skins. I am also fearing for our safety from the bent bananas and the foreign devils from Kiwi fruit land There is unseemingly behaviour happening on the ski slopes of the pavlovas and I am fearing that something very messy could be afoot and underfoot. . I urge you to harangue a meringue any time you can.
Please be excusing me but I am running out of juice here and my grammatical and spelling checker has just exploded from my computer. Sufficing it to say - that you must be getting down to the supermarket and all be speaking with one voices to the oranges and lemons and tangellos to raise them up to be revolting – remember there is more to being a Maharaja than merely being a mandarin.
And beware of the being confused by false propheteering – the Dalime Lima may be appearing in public waring citrus and saffron but he is not of the lemon or lime family – his is the colour of the bitters. This fact is being confirmed in code by the first six letters in his beloved Tibet Republics.
In closing I am hoping you will be enjoying your evening. Time is not limeitless. Let us be seeing some citrus insur-resurrection together.
May the Lime be with you.
PS If Kevin Rudding is also speaking Portugese we would be pleasing to accept an apology on behalf of the stolen limes for our terrible injustices of the past 400 years.
Carmen Miranda - the original was first created in 2003 and features on the cover of Loani's book. This is not the original. It is held in a vice like grip under secure lock and key in the kitchen hutch of Gerry and Nev Bebendorf.
The most recent, Lime Devotion, was created for the 2009 Festival and is now in the secure hands of Claudia "I've waited six years for this." Ward and her bemused husband Ian. Those of you who have seen it were very impressed. Now you will have to wait until March 2010 to see it again when it appears in Loani's nsequel.
WATCH THIS SPACE .................................................................................................................................
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In 2007 Loani produced this extravagant piece - part flamingo, part phallus which was won by a young bloke with two young daughters who may one day ask the question "Tell us again how you came by this dad?"
See more of Loani's creations at her website:
The Lime Festival has created a strong reputation for performances of the spoken word which we have all contributed to at past festivals. But, alas, today I come to you totally free of inspiration and so can only offer you my apology.
I apologize to the traditional limers of this land. To the politically correct amongst us who may find this offensive I say… sorry. For I have been a busy man, what with an election last weekend, for which I say sorry, Laurie, and work and all.
But my biggest enemy in all of this has been the English language. As I try to teach maths to students trying to learn English I see looks of horror on their faces as verbs suddenly become nouns, and words that sound the same but are spelt differently, and words that are spelt differently but sound the same.
So, in my panic ridden state last night as the Lime Festival loomed I turned to the last refuge of the desperate: POETRY…. I am very sorry, sorry that this poem is rhymeless and almost completely limeless. I’ll just find my poetry voice, sorry Leonard.
I cried a thousand tears
Of your wedding cake
I pared a pair of pears
Into quarters of an hour
That’s thirty minutes south
Of the cape you wore that day.
I stood watch upon your wrist
As the tied knot undone by this
Threaded its way to the sea D E F
Gee it’s getting light
As the water empties out
For a duck beneath the waves of thought.
I’m hearing words that mean
The median strip that divides my mind
Into tables and chairs the meeting
Of the ways and means to the end post
Script for two panadol
And a good lie through your teeth
Then squeeze a lime to stone
Or in kilograms 12.81 for breakfast
And for that I make no apology.
Denis Peel (sorry).
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
The green leafy lime
Standing alone in the yard
Waiting to be picked
Lime aroma mixes
With the kitchen cooking smells
My stomach rumbles
Luscious limes hang low
Branches heavy waiting droop
Bursting sunshine juice
Slice, grip, squeeze and turn
Ascorbic juice of citrus,
Lime drink down the hatch
A figure standing
In a garden of fragrances
Looking for the lime
Thorns detour the cook
Till the lime he seeks to find
Is no longer there
From a few blossoms
On the autumn lime, comes fruit
For the party folk
Mick C (Apologies/acknowledgement to James Hackett)
Lime madness infects
Creative juice flows in bed
Lime dreams invade sleep
Possum magic seeks
Appetising fruit bowl hunt
Bites apple not lime.
Fantasies of lime
Wild wicked and unrestrained
To health and beauty
Drink eat – use all its power
The skin zest juice – LIME
Tea and toast adorn
table set with marmalade
contented a few
Three men and a beer
One with a pointy chin
follows in the rear.
Plant lime tree in shade
Treat with neglect and disdain
Reap what you sow
Citrus fruit, first bight
Sends shivers up my backbone
Shudders of delight.
Citrus haiku thoughts
Swing gently from my branches
Waiting for harvest
Monday, March 2, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The (one) holy lime took pride of place on its velvet cushion centrally located for homage purposes surrounded by 200 decorative limes occupying every perch and post in the house.
It also featured a Lime.erick competition which was won by Julian Pepperril. He still remembers it and promises to send it for the archives. Any other memorised limericks would be welcome for the 2003 story.
Other highlights included Gerry Bebendorf's beauty facial workshop where she demonstrated her concoction of lime juice, kitty litter and a secret ingredient (read i don't remember) on a group of enthusiastic and bent women (no human was harmed in the development of this product). Results are still evident 6 years later (all litigation has been settled out of court).
The Carmen Miranda tea cosy was the prized prize in the raffle and Loani Prior attributes this event to the beginnings of her international career as Queen of the Wild Tea cosies with her book currently in the top 10 in the UK craft sales.
Mark Cryle performed a medley of twisted lime songs - think "I am the Limeman for the county - Witichita Limeman" (Mark will remind me of others).
Dr. Ian Ward presented an audio visual talk on the place of the lime in the history of contraception - including footage of Rona Joyner extolling the virtues of the citrus douche pre or post coitus as a natural birth control method.
and great FOOD FOOD FOOD. (Lime cake by Louise booth (circa 2007)
Not to mention clothes and costumes in dazzling and vile shades of ... yes of course lime.
More to come on 2003 as it becomes available. Eccentric ? Yes. Mad? Perhaps.
Steve Capelin who once was a mime
Now worships the cult of the Lime
This fruit declared he
Is the epitome
Of everything good and sublime.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The silky oak was weeping
feathery leaves formed a shroud
as life was slowly seeping
the lillypilly bowed,
standing strong and proud
potted fig on the veranda
shook and sobbed out loud
Crows and doves and kookaburras
thrice the curlew cried
the vine of hearts was bleeding
but the lime tree died.
Leaves had slowly withered
then the branches dried
the palm looked on and shivered
but the lime tree died.
There was an inquisition
autopsy was performed
result was inconclusive
but opinions swiftly dawned.
Some blamed caterpillars
insects were maligned
the dog turned very sheepish
when urea was divined,
but time can quickly pass
and heal the worst divide
ferns and lemongrass
growing side by side,
a wave of green
a rising tide
that soon forgot
the lime tree died.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Australian limes let us rejoice
The season’s citrusy
We’re full of zest,
We are the best
Just taste us and you’ll see.
We’re small and round but quite profound
We’re eaten everywhere
In cookbooks rare and Marie Claire
A fruit beyond compare.
Now’s not the time for kaffir lime
Tahitian lime’s the fare
Now, having initiated this Lime Festival, to further complicate this simple event, Mr Barren invited friends to create something hand crafted in keeping with the lime theme. His plan was to auction or raffle these items to benefit a cause in need. Mr Barren having suffered his winters of trial understood adversity and wished to alleviate such suffering in others. Among the works of art which were lovingly created for the night were a hand made mosaic tile featuring a lime in all its plumpness, a lime kite from a master kite maker, a full colour portrait of a lime dignitary of royal descent and many more but of particular note there appeared a hand knitted tea cosy adorned with the most amazing set of knitted fruit bursting with abundance from atop this masterpiece. This Carmen Miranda inspired creation was the prized piece and despite the general closeness of the group caused some jealousies to occur. The raffle was arranged so that each winning ticket holder could choose which item from the fine array on offer they preferred. Such was the power of this citrus creation that as ticket after ticket was drawn each winner studiously chose to avoid the prized tea cosy as if choosing would unleash a tidal wave of angst amongst this tightly knit group. Finally in a fitting irony after six tickets and six reluctant retreats from the opportunity to own this masterwork, Mrs Bounty was heard to cry after her ticket was drawn “Oh, bugger it. I’m not afraid of the bloody thing. I want it. And bugger the rest of you..” Ahhhh. The perfect solution. The serendipitous homecoming of the prize to its natural resting place. The origin of the Lime festival. No friendships were broken. No fights broke out. Justice had been served. The second miracle of the night emerged over drinks towards the witching hour when Grandpurlbaa, as she is now known, confessed that while she had knitted other tea cosies previously, this had been a quantum leap for her in her craft. It was evident that until this moment she had merely been knitting. The creator in her had suddenly been revealed and the rest, as they say, is history.
The Lime Festival - Its Origins (a somewhat true fable)
There were two families; lets call them the Bountys and the Barrens.
The Bountys had a citrus tree which was much admired by the Barrens.
Mr Bounty, being a thoughtful man, felt this deep gap in his friend’s world and presented to him, on his birthday, a potted Lime Tree.
The next day, a Sunday, Mr Barren excitedly planted the tree in a vacant spot in his garden - west of the spreading macadamia and east of the loquat tree. From that day he lovingly tended it weekend in and weekend out. He watered it by hand; he sprayed it with soap suds to fight off the ants and scale insects; he peed on it occasionally because he had heard that this worked wonders for the productivity of citrus trees – something to do with husbandry and hormones he mistakenly believed; he pruned, ever so gently, and waited and watched and waited and waited.
Each year Mr Bounty’s Tahitian Lime produced an avalanche of fruit and these would be shared with Mr Barren and his family in a non patronising and wholly generous spirit. And each year Mr Barren would watch as the fruit budded on his tree and struggled to survive and finally, each year, produce nothing.
Mr Barren was not naturally gifted when it came to gardening and hated nothing more than reading instructions, which is why he had inadvertently planted his beloved Lime Tree in a shady spot on poorly drained shaly ground. Still this was not known to him at that time and each year he found another excuse for his recalcitrant Tahitian.
After fiveyears, during which he obsessively loved that tree (call it a tree, yet it was still below his shoulder in height) his patience and obstinate optimism bore fruit in the form of a solitary lime. So amazing was this event and so heaven sent, that Mr Barren decided that this indeed was a blessed fruit worthy of celebration. He called his circle of friends and, in a state most of them could not comprehend (apart from Mr Bounty and his wife who had been witnesses to this agony), invited them to gather at his house to celebrate this unique event. Mr Barren, who had a penchant for excess decided to call this the Hill End Lime Festival, for that is where he lived with his wife and two bemused children. He did not regard this as self indulgent or grandiose but simply apt. And so began the Lime Festival.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Its history is fabled and its existence legendary (at least in the minds of its creators and followers).
What follows is an account of its birth, rebirth, death and resurrection. Miracles have been attributed to it. Creative extravaganzas have emerged from it. Follow the story 2003 to 2009.