What a difference a day makes!

This is what I love about living in Kommetjie! You go down to the rocks and every day the scene is different. Yesterday the swells were huge and the wind was gale force South East. During the night, the wind seemed to gain momentum and trees fell all around us, but for some reason we had no damage whatsoever on our property. First time ever! The neighbour, who is away for Easter, is going to come home to find a tree lying in his driveway outside his front door, his braai arrangement demolished and his garden furniture underneath the tree. He is in his late 80s so I don't imagine he is going to be too happy.

Today we woke up to this scene - totally flat sea, not a swell in sight, but purple sky over Table Mountain heralding the thunderstorms to come tonight and tomorrow. The moods of the sea are always something exciting to look forward to, and I can never get tired of its untameable unpredictability, albeit from the security of dry land!

After a hearty Easter Sunday roast dinner, we tootled off to do some birdwatching down at the bay and were lucky enough to observe a gull catching itself an unusual dinner. A diver was sorting his catch on the rocks and threw an undersized crayfish back into the water. The opportunistic gull swooped in on the flotsam, doubtless expecting a remnant of fish bait, and picked the hapless crustacean from the shallows before it could flap its tail and reach the safety of the deep water. The gull brought the crayfish back to the rocks where it turned it over and over to see what to do with it. It soon found that the soft underbelly was no match for its massive beak and in no time the crayfish was a hollow shell. Not nice to watch but nature at its most basic, I suppose. Eating to survive.

I doubt whether that gull will ever be happy with a cast-off chip from a takeaway again!

Armchair athlete

The Two Oceans Marathon took place today along the extremely scenic route round the Peninsula, cutting across the Fish Hoek valley and cunningly calculated to end at the University of Cape Town's rugby fields. As I watched the 27 000 runners from the comfort of my bed this early morning, while the southeaster raged outside, I could only admire those who find exhilaration and personal achievement in this kind of sport.

I was amazed by the length of stride of the front runners, who garnered the bulk of the TV coverage so I was unable to assess the rest of the field. It looked to be about 1 metre and if the marathon is 50km that means they are taking 50 000 strides. I did a little test and reckon my running stride to be about 1/2 a metre, which would entail 100 000 strides for me, double the effort of the professionals. I would be pounding the tar twice as much which would wear out my shoes at twice the rate and I think that I would take twice the amount of time. My maths may be all wrong, but I'm sure you will see where I'm going with this. That's right - I am not running material.

I find it difficult to keep up with anyone when just walking and put this down to having a very short walking stride as well. Perhaps I have very short muscles, or the tendons don't stretch. All I know is, when I walk with my sisters, they are very soon way ahead of me.

So not being genetically favoured for long-distance running, I will just have to remain an armchair athlete. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

You can tell how smart people are by what they laugh at

Different people see different meanings for this statement. Some think it means what your sense of humour is, such as slapstick, toilet (my personal favourite!) or something more sophisticated and 'meaningful', but I think it goes much deeper than that.

Remember your schooldays when you laughed at the kid who wore glasses, or whose teeth were skew, or was perhaps a little slower in understanding than the rest of the class? That kind of laughter is not a sense of humour. It is a sense of superiority and is the cause of many playground traumas. If you were the one being laughed at, I bet you didn't feel like joining in.

Many people laugh at others' misfortune and seem to take pleasure in seeing how the mighty have fallen. This, too, is brought about by a need to feel better than others. And yet circumstances often conspire to turn the tables and the laughter soon fades.

These are not happy laughs - they are the hollow variety, not the sort that hurts your stomach muscles and make you wheeze. Hollow laughter has no benefit for your body or soul.

The best laughter is when you laugh at yourself - when you get blown off your high heels in a southeaster or the hose bursts and you get blasted in the face when watering the garden. And then there is the laughter shared by good friends, particularly when you recall your youth - there is always something to laugh about there! I have two special friends who, when I think of them, the first thing that springs to mind is hysterical laughter and it is always about their particular life circumstances.

So the measure of how smart you are is whether it is good for your body and for your soul. Let's all be smart.

To plant or not to plant...

Did some serious exercise today. Starting off with a brisk walk down to the lighthouse and along the seafront, I then proceeded to mow the lawn, taking advantage of the cloud cover and cool air temperature. I cannot abide physical exercise in the sunshine or heat and won't be caught out in the midday sun - I don't have rabies and I'm not English.

That brought me to 11am, by which time I heard a cappuccino calling from the coffee shop up the road. I walked up and was very pleased to see that it was business as usual and joined a couple of friends for a very pleasant hour under the milkwood. On my return home, He Who Can Fix Anything had espied our old gardener and commissioned him to assist me in the garden for the rest of the day. Should I be grateful? I didn't know I was going to be doing more gardening today, but this is the first time in about 15 years that I have been offered assistance, so not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, it was back into the vegetable patch.

It's a bit of an exaggeration to call it that, as the only thing that has grown there since the last baboon raid is a large lavender bush, but they say it encourages the growth of certain vegetables, so I will consult my Margaret Roberts reference book and plant appropriately. It seems the baboon raids have tailed off with the culling of the so-called 'problem' males in the baboon troop, but time will tell. We have often been lulled into a false sense of security and lain on the couch with doors open, only to be subjected to a flash attack without warning. But with winter coming on there should be plenty to eat up in the mountains.

Perhaps a cauliflower or two, some brussels sprouts and spinach? Dare I? Or will I be tempting fate?
Watch this space.

Wondering about walking

Feeling much better after a good night's sleep - the full moon is past and I am convinced that it affects my sleep pattern - I always lie awake on the night of the full moon. My dog also gets a little strange at that time and sits in the garden making funny howling noises - he seems disturbed by something and then it just goes away. Perhaps it is all to do with the magnetic energy in our bodies!

Looking like a good morning for a quick walk along the boardwalk with my Bunjypump sticks. I must say I still feel a bit stupid walking with them and put that down to the fact that we don't ski in South Africa and are therefore not used to this action with arms and sticks when we walk. But when I think of the style of the old 'walkers' who we used to see walking along the road in the 60s and 70s before running became the thing, I remember how they walked with their wrists level with their elbows and had a distinct swinging action together with an odd hip movement. If you have ever tried walking like that, as I have, you will find that it is an extremely comfortable and effective motion, and I would be really interested to know how it originated and why nobody seems to do it any more. If anyone who reads this knows what I am talking about (!) and can enlighten me, I would love to hear.

So I think that it is the action of having the wrists and elbows level when you hold the sticks that enables you to walk more easily than having your arms by your side. This brings to mind another thing I discovered the other day regarding comfort when walking. If you are carrying shopping bags it is difficult to move yourself forward as you can't swing your arms and your legs have to work harder. By raising your wrists to elbow level, it suddenly alters the weight distribution and you can walk with greater ease and less effort. I am sure this is a special design of the body and is another thing I would like to hear more about from perhaps a kineticist?

Anyway, enough musings for the morning. I'm off with the Bungypump. See you on the boardwalk!

Watching the wrong sort of movie

It's been a long day. We had clouds and a little rain today and suddenly everything's changed. The last of summer has gone and Easter heralds the onset of winter. Funny how it always rains at Easter. Must be to keep the Two Oceans Marathon runners cool.

Although I did a lot today, the hours have dragged by. So strange, when the last few months have felt like the world is spinning faster and time has speeded up. I even watched a movie on DSTv. I don't know why I bothered, it wasn't at all uplifting - rather depressing really - I suppose I'm not one to watch anything involving relationship dramas. Life has too much of that - we shouldn't need to be exposed to even more of it in movies. I firmly believe movies should entertain, not make you frightened or feel sad or depressed. If you want to know a good movie not to watch - Closer (Jude Law and Julia Roberts)! You have been warned.

I think I'll go to bed and read a book - hopefully that will shake off the effects of watching other people's misfortune on tv. If all else fails, I will just have to resort to a rerun of the Sound of Music!

Fresh from the farm

There are certain phrases in the Afrikaans language which, when literally translated into English, are the source of much hilarity and in fact are part of our South African culture of a great sense of humour and ability to laugh at ourselves. One such phrase is 'he threw me dead with...."  I can only think that there is a vague connection to the English phrase 'to kill with kindness'.  Well, at the moment I am being thrown dead with organic vegetables straight from the farm nearby! This is by no means a complaint, but the work involved in cleaning and storing them is quite something and leaves me in no doubt why convenience foods were introduced.

The vegetables first have to be manhandled from the ground (potatoes, beetroot and carrots) or stripped from the vines (tomatoes) or sliced through their stalks (spinach). Onions are about the easiest to harvest. Copious amounts of sticky black sand adhere to the vegetables, which then require multiple rinsings (not good for water conservation, but we don't want to pick up worm eggs or worse), scrubbings and parings. The bits that the porcupine will eat are put in a heap for the front garden (no carrot tops, lemon skins, squash skin, beetroot leaves, spinach stalks or banana peels are welcome - they actually are quite fussy. The bits that people will eat are then stowed in containers in the fridge or vegetable rack for consumption as soon as possible.

This all goes on once a week, and while it is a privilege to have access to high quality, organic food, you can kiss half a day goodbye. Could be worse, I suppose. At least it means less time in the supermarkets!
So I'll make hay while the sun shines and look forward to the crops of winter vegetables that are growing apace.

I  look forward to being thrown dead with cauliflower and broccoli!

Arachnid activity

This raindrop-laden spider web appears every night and is dismantled every morning. I am constantly amazed at the industry of spiders, who spin their web night after night to the same pattern according to their genetic memory, catch a few bugs if they are lucky and then remove it. I think it must be so that the bugs can't see the trap during the day!

We have a bamboo canopy over the deck and the hollow sticks provide the perfect hiding place for a number of spiders and even the odd wasp and bumble bee. While I enjoy observing the wildlife, the rest of the family indulge in their phobias to maximum effect, refusing to set foot outside after sunset. I suppose I am lucky to have no phobias, only a refusal to touch a worm, so it is always my job to get rid of spiders, moths, praying mantises, wasps, bees, flies and anything else you can imagine. I have told them that once you have had children and changed nappies (the good old-fashioned towelling ones!) there is very little that can scare you. It really is a case of mind over matter.

My favourite spider story involved my son coming home late one night and putting his hand out to open the door, when he noticed a particularly large and hairy spider draped over the doorknob. Needless to say, he phoned my cellphone, woke me up and demanded that I open the door. I can't remember if that was the occasion when he screamed like a girl - no, that was the time he lay down on his bed and straight above him on the ceiling was a completely harmless rain spider, minding its own business. Once again, mother to the rescue.

To finish off my spider story, here is a picture I took of one that was blocking my view of the full moon.

Construction critique

I had occasion to do the trip from Hout Bay to Kommetjie via Chapman's Peak Drive today. Twice in one week and then maybe not again for a year! As I waited in the queues for the roadworks, there was plenty of time to look about and observe what is actually going on. It appears that watercourses are being reinforced in the areas where the layers of soft gravel that form the base of the mountainside are likely to collapse into the road under stress. The work is being carried out with the minimum of disruption and in a very organised manner with minimal waiting time. They are working under trying conditions on a very narrow road, with a gale force wind today, which can just as easily turn to rain by tomorrow, it being Cape Town.

A little further on, the ladies in their little plastic booths trying to collect the money have to fold it into tiny parcels to ensure that the wind doesn't snatch it away and deposit it in Davy Jones' locker at the bottom of the cliff! Those booths must be bolted to the road, otherwise I am sure they would be rolling down the mountain by now.

And then we come to the cause of much hoohah and hysteria... the toll plaza. To call this very modest and - let's face it, inconspicuous and extremely tastefully clad in natural stone - building a plaza is a gross exaggeration. Perhaps it has been scaled down and modified since the original plans caused a hunger strike and mass demonstrations by the public, who as usual when money is involved don't actually have a voice. I consider it to be an enhancement of the previously exposed, crumbling gravel cliff face.

The question that really needs to be asked is how such a small construction could possibly cost R54 million? Someone must think we are all stupid.

Autumn appreciation

Autumn has arrived in this neck of the woods. Although the sun is still hot, this is more due to the hole in the ozone layer than the directness of the rays, and as soon as you stand in the shadow, it is quite a few degrees cooler. The wind is more southerly these days, coming straight from Antarctica, with no land mass in between to warm it up. The shape of the Peninsula is such that a southerly wind blows more or less onshore on the Atlantic coast, bringing the sounds of the sea right into your garden. As I stand here, watering the lawn to keep it going just long enough to survive until the winter rains set in, the roar of the breakers at the lighthouse is quite distinct. We woke to the spectacle of a massive groundswell breaking off Kommetjie this morning, the remains of an early cold front that passed by yesterday, and it put paid to anyone's idea of a quick outing to catch crayfish as the season draws to a close. The photos show Boneyards doing its thing, although they do not do justice to the spectacular plumes of spray which were whipped off the crests by the fresh wind (fresh is a South African euphemism for blasting through).

Another indication of autumn is the noticeable shortening of the days. No longer does the sun warm the back slopes of Table Mountain before 5.30am, and the birds are still asleep when the alarm goes off at 6. It's getting to be a bit of a chore to get up so early and I don't even think of going for a walk before 7.30. I'm not exactly devoted to exercise and generally can find any excuse to put it off for another day. But I do enjoy my strolls around Kommetjie during the day, fetching the post, coffee with friends under the milkwood tree, an amble along the path at the bay, looking at the birds busying themselves among the rocks and cast-up kelp mounds.

At this time of year, without the intense heat and hardly a soul in sight, there can be few places to equal the stretch between the Kom and the lighthouse for tranquillity and excessive beauty.

The sunsets of my life

We are heading towards sunset season here in Kommetjie. Although May is usually the most favourable month, with the seasons becoming so muddled all over the world, any night can be sunset night. You can tell by the cloud level what the sunset will be like and so have plenty of time to position yourself optimally to photograph this amazing phenomenon of nature.

I remember one sunset in particular some years back that was just so spectacular that people were driving up the mountain road above the lighthouse to catch the reflection in the sea and then dashing back down to the Kom to get a wave shot and down to Long Beach to get the back of Table Mountain and Chapman's Peak. I was one of them and, even though I say so myself, am justifiably proud of the results. The infamous 'they' say you should never attempt to paint a sunrise or sunset, but I did and they grace homes around the world, so they couldn't have been that far off the mark.

I never get tired of watching a sunset. Every one is unique and provides an opportunity to appreciate this incredible place we live in. Here are a few for you to enjoy!

Sharks

Today was a day when the interaction between sharks and humans was highlighted in different ways. At Fish Hoek, the first shark net to be experimented with has been laid and we will soon know whether it is going to be effective in preventing further shark attacks and to what extent the sharks themselves will be endangered, not to mention the large schools of dolphins that frequent the area, or the shoals of yellowtail that used to be plentiful, but now probably are not really at risk in that corner of the beach. Will there be enough space in the netted area for the number of people who wish to swim, and will overcrowding inevitably ruin it for all?

In Gansbaai, a shark decided to put its head into the shark cage to get a closer look at the tourist who was taking a video of him. The tourist had to duck to avoid the teeth. The impression I got from the footage on board the boat was that the tourist had a blast and was super-excited at his almost brush with death. These are not domesticated fish we are dealing with - they are maneaters who should be respected as such and given their space. Presumably everyone who goes down in a cage has to sign a disclaimer that no one may be sued if they die, and presumably everyone thinks this is never going to happen. There is always a first time for everything.

We have seen what happens when we try to manipulate the natural behaviour of wild animals. The chacma baboon has long been a victim of the irrational notion that you are doing a wild animal a favour by feeding it. It only teaches the animal that there are easier ways of finding food than by foraging for hours on a mountainside, and eventually they learn how to find the food in our kitchens, where confrontations occur because they are then encroaching on our space. Our response to a wild animal who bites the hand that feeds it, so to speak, is usually to kill it, as it has then become a pest and even a danger.

We may be walking a fine line with sharks. We enter their environment when we swim and we lure them by being the bait in a cage so we can take photographs of them. And when they do what comes naturally, should they also die, like those troublesome baboons who know they will find food in our homes? They have acted on instinct for millions of years. Why should it change now?

Midweek meanderings

All these public holidays are going to play havoc with my brain! Today was Thursday, but tomorrow will feel like Monday rather than Friday. It was just like Sunday in our garage today, except for a change there was no swearing. Somehow everything went right. And there were no Golden Oldies to listen to on the radio - that's on weekends only.

We started the day with a walk along the boardwalk with the dogs. Monty is still getting used to having no teeth and was somewhat subdued, not straining on his leash once! The sea had a bit of chop and the few boats out crayfishing as the season draws to a close didn't look as if they were having a comfortable ride. The oystercatchers were out in force and it was exciting to note that there are three more, making a total of ten in our area now. They obviously had a successful breeding season. For the first time ever, I saw them bathing in the rock pools, fluttering their wings to splash themselves as they sank down into the water. A lovely sight.

Back home, it was time to clean cars. This went off without a hitch, until I picked up the vacuum cleaner and it split in two and one half fell onto my big toe, landing exactly on the cuticle of the nail. To say that the pain was excruciating would be an understatement. Blood spurted from the wound and it felt as though the bone had been crushed by a ten-pound hammer! It helped to yell a bit to take my mind off the pain as I dashed off to blast it with the high-pressure hose in an attempt to staunch the blood flow. He Who Can Fix Anything looked to see what the fuss was about and agreed that I wasn't exaggerating, as the blood was evidence of being wounded.  I hobbled off to make a cup of tea and regain my composure and after about an hour the pain subsided and all was back to normal.

HWCFA then fixed the starter motor on one of the cars and then sorted out 40 years' hoarding of electrical wiring. I suggested that we should burn it all to retrieve the copper and then sell it at a scrap yard. After all, isn't that what today's crime is all about? Why shouldn't we get onto the bandwagon - we don't even have to steal it. The silly thing was, he had bought some wiring yesterday and then discovered this box in the shed. I said he should take it back to where he bought it from and offer to become a supplier to them!

The weather has been absolutely stunning for the last few days, proving that autumn is without a doubt the best time to live in Cape Town. Clear skies, gentle winds, ambient temperatures. What more could we want?

And so to bed, perchance to dream...

Under the milkwood tree

I spent a few hours under the milkwood tree in a corner of the garden today, writing. As I write with a notebook on my lap, any movement at my feet catches my eye. What a busy world it is under that tree!

A round, shiny black beetle scurried out from between the paving stones, with a smaller, different type of beetle in hot pursuit. The first one must have trespassed on the smaller beetle's territory and was being seen off in no uncertain terms. The little one then went back into the crack between the slabs, doubtless to re-mark his boundaries.

A line of ants rushed back and forth, apparently not moving house as they weren't carrying anything, and yet unceasing in their industry. Maybe my eyes were not good enough to discern their burdens and they were in the process of relocating a food source to their nest. Whatever it was, I wonder whether ants ever sleep or do they toil day and night?

Songololos glide multi-legged over the slabs, perhaps feeding on the berries which have now all dropped to the ground, providing a feast for the fruit-eating ground dwellers. I never sweep them up, as their purpose is a food source, just as the leaves that fall all year round are meant to provide the protective mulch that milkwoods use in their own food cycle. I throw clivia seeds among the leaves once they have turned a beautiful crimson hue, and have been very successful in achieving self-propagation in this way, leaving everything to the whims of nature.

Whenever it rains, in no time at all you can hear the frogs croaking in the undergrowth, and I have seen one of the Breviceps species, so called because of their short little legs and muscles which make leaping impossible, scrambling over the layer of pine bark that I scattered rather than grow a lawn. These little beasties have quite an attitude and will puff themselves up and glare at you if you dare to lean down for a closer look. They apparently are unaware that they are very tiny and know no fear. My fear is that, because they live under the bark and burrow into the sand for protection, I might unwittingly be standing on them when I walk in that area.

I'll never know, will I?

Wanted: One Tooth Fairy

Well, it was Monty's turn to have his teeth cleaned at the vet under anaesthetic today. I was told that he didn't have any bad teeth, but gum disease and needed them cleaned and the gums treated with antibiotics, which sounded fair enough. Susie had the same thing and 6 teeth extracted and she has been a new dog since then, with no sign of the foul breath she has had for years! So off we went this morning, ready to pay R1 300 and have a clean-toothed dog.

I had a phone call from the vet later to say that I mustn't get a shock but Monty had to have 20 teeth removed, as they were all loose in the sockets! Now this vet never does anything unnecessary and leans towards the conservative side when treating my animals, believing, as I do, that most things will get better on their own anyway. So I had no problem with his diagnosis and he assured me that Monty would be getting painkillers and antibiotics to see him through this.

I went to pick him up in the afternoon and pay the increased bill of R2 200, as he had needed a much longer anaesthetic and all those extractions. There must have been quite a bit of blood, as all his facial fur was damp and the vet told me that they had done what they could to clean him up but he would need a bath in a day or so. I felt so bad for them, because I know how gums can bleed - I've been to the hygienist myself! He presented me with a plastic bag bearing 20 teeth and I was a little startled to see that most of them were still perfect and white and that 2 of them looked like canines. Fortunately the tooth structure of dogs is not like ours and he still has his front canines, but the poor dog now has no front teeth, top or bottom, and has a smile like a Cape Flats special!

Of course, He Who Can Fix Anything except his dog's teeth nearly had apoplexy when he heard. Perhaps I shouldn't have even told him. It could have been a week before he noticed. After all, Monty doesn't walk around with his jaw agape. As usual, it was the combined fault of the vet and me that the dog had been traumatised by the loss of so many teeth at once, despite Monty having eaten two chicken thighs as soon as he got home and a handful of dry dog pellets!

It seems that Monty will be used to his toothless grin long before his devoted dad! Oh, and I haven't told him what it cost. It seems so unnecessary to traumatise him further.

The joy of extreme youth

   The cuteness of babies, as with all offspring of the mammalian world, is a function of survival to ensure that sufficient attention is paid to the young child, puppy, kitten, baby hedgehog or lion cub for them to have their needs fulfilled and to be protected from harm. "Cuteness" triggers the maternal instinct in the female of the species.
   By the time that cute baby has grown into a sturdy one-year-old, he seems assured of survival and is now allowed to explore and test out his environment and assess for himself how the people around him react to him. What better place to gather this information than with the greatest tool available to him, his voice, in a large, cathedral-like building, the local mall? The acoustics magnify his excited shrieks as Mommy wheels him in her shopping trolley. Various experiments with pitch provide satisfying results, with the higher end of the scale echoing every-increasing decibels. Mommy seems pleased. She is smiling and shaking her head - a bit of a mixed signal, but smiling always means approval.
   The joy on his little face as he stands in the front of the trolley, for all the world like Columbus staring ahead from the poop deck at the New World before him, is a sight to behold and it seems a pity to begrudge him his freedom of expression, which will soon be crushed once he enters society's rigid institutions with limited scope for individuality.
   But judging from the pained looks on the faces of the other mall-goers, a dummy to plug the hole would be most welcome!

A rather lazy Sunday

Woke up at 2.30 this morning and made tea, checked FB, Twitter and blog pageviews! I like to check in with the different time zones so that I can have realtime conversations with people in America or the Antipodes. Saw there was an earth tremor in Auckland. Happy to be here. Went back to bed and read until 4, then back to sleep, woke up at 7. Nice lazy start to the day.

Shower. Breakfast. Coffee. Walked the dogs along to the lighthouse and along the boardwalk in a nice fresh northwester. So pleased to have cooler weather. Makes me more inclined to walk. Choppy sea, clouds over the mountains. One of those days when the light and atmospheric conditions were not conducive to inspiring photography. It can happen, even in Kommetjie.

Dogs safely back home, I packed my notebook, pen and wallet into a tote and headed for a quiet cappuccino up at the local bistro, Espresso Dotkom. Crowded with Sunday morning breakfasters, dogs and kids but managed to switch off and got some work done. Somehow much easier in a busy place where you are alone. Deep and meaningful conversation with a couple of friends and work over for the day.

Get home and He Who Can Fix Anything is back from weekend racing. Now you see how I can keep to my own clock without complaints! Quiet braai, transcribed notes onto computer. Read. Watered garden.

Now for the exciting part. Waiting for tennis - Indian Wells final between Nadal and Del Potro. Hope it's a good game and not too stressful. Haven't watched tennis since Nadal was injured last year, but now he's back.

Vamos, Rafaaa!

End of a life at sea

A tiny wooden yacht in a sad state of repair has stood by the side of the road on the way to Kommetjie for some years now. The other day the wooden supports collapsed and the little boat sank to the ground and lay dejectedly on her side. Today a crane and lowbed came to take her away. The end of someone's dream to sail the high seas in search of adventure.

But perhaps that little boat did once sail the seas and had merely come to the end of a long and happy life bobbing on the waves. Perhaps her owner passed on and she stood idle at her mooring or on a cradle in a boatyard, waiting for a new owner to take her back onto the open waves, where the salt spray could splash her decks once more. Perhaps her owner had lovingly built her, plank by plank, and painted her in his favourite colours and named her after his favourite lady. Perhaps there were many years of adventure, with young and old taking turns to hoist her sails, and hundreds of welcome meals prepared in her tiny galley. Perhaps her dreams came true.

I would like to think so.

Taking myself in hand

After yesterday's hot and stressful day, the cooler weather and sociability of today was a welcome change.

I started off with a visit to my nutritionist, who took one look at me and declared me to be full of acidity and raised cholesterol levels. As usual, she was absolutely correct, and it's all of my own doing, as I freely confessed. I was treated to a lecture on the workings of the liver and associated hormones and once again I could see that I had strayed far from the path of righteousness.

It all began with December festivities and numerous lunches and dinners with visitors from around the world who obviously needed to be treated to the finest of Cape eateries, and it was all downhill from there. A little dessert here, a slice of cheesecake there. a toasted cheese sandwich because there just wasn't anything else available, my mother's delectable date scones... the list became endless. I knew that all was lost when the pain returned to my elbow for the first time in about 4 years.

I have been given one week to rectify my diet myself, failing which she will put me on a detox of nutritional shakes and green vegetables. That will sort me out and I will be back in tip-top health in no time. There is no doubt that I am what I eat, and carbohydrates, notably sugar and wheat, simply cannot be part of my diet. Truth to tell, I can live without them and far prefer to eat fresh vegetables, fruit, eggs and white meat or fish. Somehow, red meat has lost its appeal, and eating a potato creates such a turmoil in my gut that you would think I was distilling whiskey inside. It is amazing that such a simple ingredient in everyday cooking played such havoc with my digestion all my life. I still can't believe my stupidity when I actually eat a potato and suffer for hours afterwards, when I know it will happen!

After being remonstrated with, I am now determined to resume the eating habits that suit my digestion, and so if you saw me at the coffee shop today, you wouldn't have seen me eating a piece of cake or eating my all-time favourite, Eggs Benedict. Plain scrambled egg and cherry tomatoes are the order of the day, and if you see me straying, please remind me that I'm not doing myself any favours!

A day of surprises

I was forced to travel into Cape Town today (dreaded meeting with the Taxman). If it weren't for that, nothing would have shifted me from Kommetjie on this most perfect but sizzling of days. Imagine having to drive in an unairconditioned car in this heat. Granted the route was along one of the most scenic in the world, along the Atlantic seaboard via Hout Bay, Camps Bay, Clifton, etc. but the destination was so undesirable that I didn't even put the music on. Unheard of! That was the homeward journey.

On the way through to town, I took the back roads up Constantia Nek and wound through the erstwhile Cecelia Forest, which is now just mountainside as it was after all a plantation, swooped down the hill through the beautiful leafy suburb of Bishopscourt and past Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden, the pride of South Africa, and on to the M3. As I approached the University of Cape Town, a large electronic board bore the legend: Stationary vehicle on Hospital Bend. Left lane closed. Expect delays. Well that was a first for me. It's a few months since I travelled that route and this was the first time I had seen a traffic report in Cape Town. And it turned out to be correct. As we drove up Hospital Bend with its well-planned lanes and roadmarkings, the traffic came to a halt, but in a very orderly way, with no one seeming to get upset or try to cut in to gain an advantage. Amazingly, there were blue police lights ahead and after only a few minutes, what looked like a logjam actually pulled forward and the entire eight lanes carried on, the stationary vehicle no longer in evidence. What an incredibly First World experience. It was heartwarming to know that all is not completely lost and that a step has been taken forward again, at least in the traffic arena.

I continued on into town. noting the special bus lane for the new MyCiti bus route that is our first foray into real public transport, and was again amazed at how organised it all seemed to be, the traffic obeying the lane signs and all stopping at the lights when required. I must qualify this by noting that there were no minibus taxis around, which contributed to the orderliness. I duly parked in the underground garage and headed into the street, where I crossed at a pedestrian robot that had various devices to warn the hearing and sight-impaired when it was safe to cross. Another pleasant surprise.

In the Taxman's building, everything was efficient and well-run, the staff polite and friendly. No complaints. Even the visit wasn't all that bad.

As I wended my way homeward, I drove along Chapman's Peak Drive with its view down towards Kommetjie. The sea was so flat that, unbelievably, there was a reflection of the lighthouse and the houses along the beach in the sea at Long Beach. I've never seen that before!

So it was a day of many firsts, all of them pleasant, accompanied by a drive that people travel from all over the world to experience. How lucky am I?

Of shoes and ships...

Somewhat unseasonably hot weather in Cape Town at the moment. We have been over 30 degrees every day since last week and there is no sign of it abating. And today we have a galeforce southeaster worthy of a November ten-day blow! The house is turning inside out and the poor garden is being battered and dehydrated at the same time. Two proteas have decided to kick the bucket, so I think that is the last time I will waste money on them. From now on it will be petunias, petunias and petunias, interspersed with rocks.

I had to go to the mall this morning for the usual bread and milk (turned out to be somewhat more, rather a restocking of the spice cupboard - coconut milk, Thai green curry paste, soy sauce - I can see what will be for dinner tomorrow night!). The wind blows up and down the Fish Hoek valley like the clappers, no matter what direction it's coming from and not for nothing is Noordhoek nicknamed Tornado Alley. My Crocs nearly blew off my feet as I made my way back to the car, clinging valiantly to my trolley which wanted to take its own route across the car park. I suppose that was the fashion police making a statement about the wearing of Crocs anywhere except at home!

Yesterday, before the wind came up, the sea was like a mirror off Kommetjie and I picked up the binoculars to see what was happening out to sea. What a treat! A small school of dolphins was passing by, with a number of seals leaping around them. They were all heading towards Cape Point, along with a flotilla of skiboats, so obviously had the same shoal of fish as their target. The skiboats would have been there first, but as soon as the seals arrive, they start to bite the fish that have been hooked and cause plenty of ill-feeling between man and beast.

And suddenly, just beyond all this activity, a whale's tail rose gracefully from the water and then flopped down with a tremendous splash before slipping below the surface. Water spouts appeared all over the place and four whales frolicked just off the shoreline for some hours, breaching and sounding and rolling in one of the best displays I have seen in years. They are humpback whales and move up and down the coast all year round, so if you keep binoculars handy, you will see them often. It's always worth a look.

Chasing flies

It's been a bad summer for flies here in Kommetjie. Not your ordinary little house fly. The large brommer or buzzer that you can hear coming from a distance the instant any form of meat is set down on the kitchen counter. I have seen them sitting on flowers during the day which seems a bit odd as their main interest is something less sweet smelling.They seem particularly fond of rose bushes.

These big flies are impervious to all the sprays that promise instant death, watch them drop as the spray touches them, nothing can survive this... All nonsense of course. The only thing that suffers is your lungs and the thought of breathing that in gives me the heebies, so it is only in moments of desperation that I use spray.

I was given an electric tennis racquet-type device that shocks the flies on contact and makes them drop to the floor. That is true, it works. However, they miraculously recover and fly off if you don't pick them up immediately and run them down the kitchen sink. You also have to be quicker than Rafael Nadal to actually connect the racquet with the fly. They have the evasive skills of an average UFO, changing direction as you close in on them. leaving you flailing wildly while they buzz around your head, sometimes getting tangled in your hair as you whip your head around to keep your eye on the ball, so to speak. That is the ultimate degradation, to have a fly in your hair, buzzing triumphantly.

So I sit eating my dinner with the fork in one hand and the racquet in the other, as the brommer homes in on my chop, knowing no shame. I wave the racquet ineffectually just in case I actually score a direct hit and the stunned pest falls into my food. As I shovel the last morsels into my mouth, all is quiet. The flies have departed. They know there's nothing left. Uncanny.

No wait, there's one. I creep up on it. It alights on my arm. ZAP!! A searing shock flashes on my skin - but the fly is knocked down. Down the sink he goes! How they survive that electric current is unbelievable.

I have tried freezing flies and microwaving flies. Did you know that they are unaffected by either extreme? I wonder what science has to say about that?

New moon

As the last light slides over the horizon, the colour spectrum that makes up rainbows is evident, with red on at the bottom, orange, yellow, green in a very narrow strip and shades of blue sweeping up overhead and fading into indigo and deep violet as darkness descends on this south western tip of Africa. After a scorching day, it is a relief to slip into the coolth of night, and overhead the first stars are appearing, no longer competing with the fierce glare of our personal star, the Sun, for their chance to shine.

Jupiter maintains its dominant presence near Aldebaran, the eye of the Bull, and nearby the most recognisable constellation in our skies, Orion, prowls through the night on his huntsman's quest. It's new moon tonight, and the skies will be dark, allowing those fortunate enough to live away from city lights to turn their gaze out into the universe, from where the light of billions of stars casts faint shadows around us. The Milky Way arches overhead, with beautiful clusters of stars providing a breathtaking hint of what is really out there.

Spiders are already busy spinning the night's web, anticipating a good catch of mosquitoes and other tasty morsels after the heat of the day, and I feel bad walking through their works of art to go out onto the balcony. But they will soon repair the broken strands with their seemingly infinite supply of material. I'm sure the swallows will have left some bugs for them to eat tonight!

Go outside and feast your eyes on a free light show!

Powered by the sun

We have begun the journey to free ourselves from dependence on Eskom! He Who Can Fix Anything took a break from working on cars and rigged up a solar panel to charge two large batteries, connected to an inverter, and we are now running the computer, a desk light, kitchen light, passage light and cellphone charger for nothing! You may scoff and say what about the outlay (we were given the solar panel and have always had the batteries), but aside from that, it's more about not being in the dark when the lights go out, rather than reducing the electricity bill. The next thing to be connected will be the ADSL modem and the portable phone so that we maintain connectivity. The stove runs on gas and we have plenty of spare camping cylinders for gaslight. For hot water we can heat it on the stove and pour it into the camping solar shower bags which we can then hang in the shower - we used them for years when camping and they are as good as any conventional shower.

This is just preparation. I don't think I will go for the shower right now - but it's good to know we will be able to cope if things go awry. If we want to save money, however, the hot water cylinder is the big culprit and that will take more than the few batteries and little inverter we have.

But it's a start, and considering that the entire planet exists on solar energy and it is only humans who have been forced to use fossil fuels and other expensive, non-renewable sources, hopefully more and more people will take themselves off the grid and reconnect with what belongs to us all, a gift from nature.

Big bag blues

I phoned my mother today and she took an awfully long time to answer. Not that it wasn't close to hand. It was in her handbag, and she couldn't find it with her hand, so had to turn everything out onto the table to locate the phone! I can totally identify with this.

The first problem is that women somehow need to carry their entire lives with them wherever we go. I am sure it would be perfectly possible to leave the country at a moment's notice and start a new life somewhere else at the drop of a hat, as long as my bag is on my arm. I didn't realise quite how much stuff I carried around with me until the day I left the bag on the kitchen counter, as I usually do. At the time, we still had a number of cats in various stages of decrepitude. A while later, I noticed an unsavoury aroma and could tell that a cat had relieved itself somewhere close by and on investigation, found to my horror that it was on my beautiful, soft, ostrich skin drawstring handbag, forming a neat little pool in its folds!

I have heard that you shouldn't wet ostrich skin. Well, without hesitation, I mopped up the excess with kitchen towel, tipped everything out of the bag and rushed off to the bathroom, where I held the bag under the hot tap on full pressure for about 10 minutes, then rubbed it with soap and rinsed it under the tap again for 10 minutes. I then put it outside in the sun. Amazingly, the bag suffered no ill effects whatsoever and not a trace of cat smell remained.

The debris on the kitchen counter was another story! I took a picture of it for posterity and vowed at the time that I would never have so much rubbish in my bag again, but I fear that things are starting to get out of hand again and some serious sorting seems to be in the offing.

Winter weather and things that fly by in the sky

We awoke to winter today in Kommetjie.  Well, only with rain, not cold, but still needed to rummage in the clothes cupboard for long sleeves and closed shoes. It's been raining steadily all morning and now that it is lunchtime, the clouds are becoming thinner and no doubt in an hour or two will have started to disappear.

The doves have been perched glumly on a dead branch, but the seabirds have been enjoying a bit of a freshwater rinse and have taken to the air a number of times. The small garden birds revel in a shower of rain and flit among the branches, shaking their feathers out before darting out into the open again.

The doves have suddenly flown off in alarm, and the cause has just alighted in the old gum tree - a black sparrowhawk looking for dinner! An iridescent double-collared sunbird twitters unconcernedly among the twigs, safe in the knowledge that this big bird won't be able to fly into the closely packed branches and snatch it up in its claws.

I have just looked out of the window and seen a flamingo flying past - what an amazing sight! And somewhat unexpected! I've never seen one here before, but I know they have recently arrived at the Wildevoelvlei wetland about 5 km away from here and this must have been a straggler. I hope they fly by regularly. All you can see is two wings and long legs and neck balance it out. Very fragile looking.

Yesterday another skyflyer flew by, at about the same level as the flamingo, and gave me quite a fright. It was an old Dakota doing a scenic trip around the Peninsula and it was flying just above the rooftops (or at least no higher than the lighthouse) along the coastline and at a 45 degree angle to show its passengers our pretty little seaside village! I doubt whether the aviation authorities allow such low flying, but as with our roads, who is going to issue a ticket? At least it was lumbering along sedately, unlike the black jet that shrieked past the other day at what, 900km/hr perhaps, also at a very low level.

There is certainly never a dull moment when you look out of your window in Kommetjie. I just never seem to be able to get the camera out in time!

Lost in thought

Do you ever arrive at a place and wonder how you got there? Driving, I mean. For most of us, driving is a reflex action and we probably all think about other things while we drive. Or do we? Is it only some of us, mainly female? I don't know if men can drive and think (obligatory dig at their lack of multitasking skills).

It occurred to me that thinking while you drive is very much in the category of talking on your phone while at the wheel. If you are talking to someone, your focus is on what they are saying, not on what is happening around you. Even if they are not using a phone, it always makes me nervous to drive behind someone who talks to their passenger and keeps turning their head to look at them. Why do they need to do that? Shouldn't they be looking ahead? I'm sure a driving instructor didn't teach it to them.

So if you are deep in thought and only wonder after you go across an intersection whether you looked both ways or whether the light was green, wouldn't that make you as irresponsible as someone talking on the phone while driving?

It could be that if you travel the same route every day, your subconscious memory is keeping an eye out for the right signals and awareness of other vehicles. This must be how women multitask - how else would we be able to put on our lipstick and still be ready to pull away at the green light with the rest of the traffic?

Murphy's Law

Mr Murphy has been hard at work following me wherever I go.

On Sunday I was watering the garden in that tremendous heat with a very long hose that reaches from the wellpoint to the top of the garden, which is about 175 feet. This has necessitated joining quite a few lengths of hose, particularly as they are inclined to perish in the fierce ultraviolet rays we get here over South Africa (thanks all you CFC users). Of course the hose jammed at a join because it fitted perfectly between two bricks at the side of the path. It is as though the gap was specially measured. When I tugged at the hose, it parted at the join, so I had to go to the well and turn off the pump, then walk 100 feet to rejoin the hose, then back to turn on the pump. This was only onerous because of the sweltering heat, not because I am old and decrepit.

When I had finally finished spraying, I put the hose down in a bush to secure it while I once more set off to turn off the pump. Mr Murphy again spotted an opportunity and the hose snaked out of the branches and lay down on the lawn, continuing to spew borehole water in a perfect trajectory that followed me all the way to the well. I was soaked by the time I turned it off, but thankful for the cooling drench, much as the plants were.

This morning I turned on the municipal hose to wash the upstairs windows - we have a high pressure gun-style tap on it - and blow me down but the tap shot off and the suddenly free hosepipe whipped around and blasted me in the face. Another free shower.

You may notice that Murphy only seems to work with water, but this is not the case. Perhaps I was secretly hoping to get a cooling shower because of the heat we are currently experiencing. So I got what I wished for.

Did you got a licence?

I hate to write about negative aspects of life, but yesterday I was involved in 4 separate incidents of completely incompetent and imbecilic behaviour from other road users that I just have to share. It is a sad fact that the general public is only too aware that the likelihood of prosecution for transgressing the rules of the road in South Africa is precariously close to nil, due to lack of skilled policing and manpower. The only fine you are guaranteed to get is a speeding fine, as this is controlled by a camera. Of course, you will still only get it if you are one of the dying breed of law-abiding motorists who are culturally bound to the demonstration of consideration towards other road users - in other words, you pay your licence and have a corresponding number plate, not one you had made by your friend who works at the motor spares shop. But once again, I digress...

The day started with a simple drive along a straight road. As I passed the local township, a gentleman (and I use that word euphemistically) looked me in the eye and pulled out in front of me. There weren't two car lengths to separate us and I had to swerve onto the other side of the road and overtake him to avoid driving up his rear. Fortunately for me there was no oncoming traffic, and I looked him in the eye as I passed. If only I was driving a Hummer, I wouldn't have needed to swerve.

I then arrived at the Civic Centre parking area, which for the last 50 years has had one-way access. I was amazed to meet up with a car coming my way, and stood my ground, advancing towards my parking space with no intention of giving an inch. Safely out of the way, I joined the small crowd that had gathered to witness this unheard of occurrence in Fish Hoek, of all places, and we gaped as the car with three old ladies on board continued around the circle at a snail's pace, tentatively pulling into a parking space and then reversing out and once more proceeding into the oncoming traffic. The car guard was beside himself.

After Tai Chi we all came out into the car park again, and were treated to yet another car coming along on the wrong side of the one-way, this time an old bakkie with three gentlemen (again, a loose usage) in it, smiling and waving as if that would make it all better. The car guard was so beside himself there were two of him.

Heading back home along the Kommetjie road, a sporty car packed with a crowd of young men (aren't I polite?) appeared out of nowhere and were apparently unhappy with my driving at the speed limit of 70km/h as they overtook me on the left, grinning insolently, and roared off past the cars in front of me, intimidating them into the gutter as they overtook in the face of oncoming traffic. They must have hit 140 before getting to the red traffic light, and as it turned green I was alongside them. The car in front of them was, I think, deliberately delaying turning into Ocean View to hold them up, and my fine friends tried to drive around them, once again in the face of oncoming traffic, but I am pleased to say the other car then sped up and they were left looking like a bunch of bananas!

My conclusions: #1 might have just had bad news and wasn't concentrating.
#2 might have just arrived from Europe or the USA and doesn't know which side of the road to drive on.
#3 doesn't have a licence and doesn't know what any road signs mean.
#4 was showing off for his friends and with a bit of luck will blow his engine.

It's just the oncoming traffic that is in danger here. That is the big concern.

Free fertilizer from the sea

Cooking in Cape Town today! 35 degrees (Celsius) in the shade and who knows what in the sun! Fortunately, here in Kommetjie there is a gentle drift off the sea and it's really rather pleasant if you don't have to exert yourself in any way.  The sea is like a pond and is ideal for paddle skiing - I really must do something about that.

Occasionally the air brings with it the smell of rotting seaweed, which makes you sniff around suspiciously and look under your shoes to see if you've stepped in doggy doo. It's quite unusual to get that smell in this part of Kommetjie, as it usually is associated with the area abutting on the Kom and the boat launching beach, where copious amounts of kelp accumulate after rough seas and can do nothing but rot unless the municipality sends its truck around to remove it. It makes the most excellent fertiliser for the garden, and there should in fact be streams of people dragging 40-foot lengths of kelp over both shoulders to go and chop up with a spade or panga. But the truth of the matter is that it is incredibly heavy and it needs a wheelbarrow to get it home in. It should be chopped while still fresh and moist. I think the legal amount of "seashore" - rocks, sand, shells, etc. - which you are allowed to take home is 10kg per day - they know you will soon get tired of this and there is little danger of decimating the beach and creating another Big Hole like in Kimberley (of course, if it were diamonds and not kelp it would be a different story).

I am a firm believer in the legend of kelp and the lemon tree. If your lemon tree does not bear fruit, wind a piece of kelp around the base of the trunk and you will be inundated thereafter. You will have lemon juice, lemon pudding, lemonade and lemon curd for many years to come. I tried it and it works!

But I remember how heavy the kelp was and it will be a wheelbarrow for me next time.

Out of the frying pan...

There is one food programme that I find particularly inspiring on DSTV, and that is Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. The food looks mouthwateringly delicious, apart from the fact that most of the ingredients shouldn't ever be included in anything I eat! However, the way it is made, with passion and gusto and in such enthusiastically large amounts (bucketloads of spices and vinegar and tomato sauce!) makes me want to start cooking much more exciting food and particularly in different ways.

He Who Can Fix Anything has mentioned that he feels I have become uncommonly attached to the vegetable steamer and I can see that he is not impressed by my attempts to force him into a healthy lifestyle. So I figure, what the heck, if it takes 5 years off his life but he enjoys it, let him eat cake! Or rather, spicy ribs with onion rings or sticky chili chicken wings or whatever just sticks to his teeth. He can take his tablets to counteract the sugar content if that's what he wants.

But first of all, I want a big cast iron griddle that fits over the entire surface of my gas hob so that I can make like a chef and flip burgers, steaks, bacon, hash browns and plenty of onions with a flick of the wrist, without being restricted by frying pans with high sides and that silly round shape. Those are for the sauce.

 I need room for creativity if he wants me to expand my repertoire. My new canvas will be cast iron!

Leaving the light on

I always leave the kitchen light on when I go to bed, if the kids are out, so that if I wake up in the night and the light is out, I will know they are safely home. He Who Can Fix Anything will wake me up if he notices the light is still on and tell me she's not home (now it is only our daughter) and then demand that I phone her to find out where she is and what she is doing. She is 30.

The other night she worked until 10 and as usual I left the light on and went to sleep. At 1a.m, he wakes me up and asks me where she is. "With her friends," I mumble and try to go back to sleep. "Phone her," is His Majesty's command. Sighing heavily, I press the appropriate buttons and of course her phone just rings. I put my head back on the pillow. "What did she say?" "No answer," I mumble. "Phone her and find out where she is!"

This time I get up and go to the kitchen to make tea and press the appropriate buttons. Obviously the call is cut off. So I know that she has looked at her phone and knows it's me! "Where is she?" Another imperious call from His Majesty, still comfortably ensconced under the duvet while disturbing my night. "I'm sure she's fine," say I as I call her again.

This time the phone is answered instantly. "I'm at ........ in .......... I'll be home just now.....I'm not 15!"

Fortunately she understands that it's her father causing her to have to take a call from her mother while socialising. And I'm sure they would also be happy to have a mother that doesn't care about embarrassing them just to be sure they are alright.
I think this is why our children are supposed to leave home. So that we never wake up in the middle of the night and find the kitchen light on and then need to worry about whether they are safe. I prefer to work on the assumption that everything is fine unless you hear otherwise. Worrying never changed anything.

Cape Town at its best

It's the 1st of March and we are easing into the best time of year in Cape Town - autumn. The evening light on the back of Table Mountain and down across the Sentinel at Hout Bay and Chapman's Peak in Noordhoek has a softer quality, less intense than in midsummer, and the cooler air in general makes it a delightful time to walk along the beach at the end of a busy day.

We expect the winds to abate now for a few months while we enjoy the change of season, although we all know how unpredictable the weather is here on the south-western tip of Africa. March can bring the first real rains of winter and Easter is guaranteed to be wet. We'll be able to cut back on the watering and start planting winter annuals and spring bulbs. Still no prospects for vegetables with the wildlife that roams through the garden.

You can tell that the days are cooler as the swimming pool is no longer being used next door; the excited shrieks of young voices as they bomb-drop and splash each other are now silenced, and the water is starting to turn green.

Despite these signs of days drawing in, the leaves on the trees and the creepers have not yet started to turn yellow and are still a long way from dropping, and Nature knows best, so perhaps the sunny days are not quite over. The migrant birds have not left, which is another sign of impending winter, but when they do, it will definitely be time to pack away the shorts and bring out the winter woollies again.

This is an ideal time to be a tourist in Cape Town. Perhaps a sunset trip up Table Mountain...