Scratching through some old papers, I came across some notes I made a while back. I had a good laugh and thought you might too.
It's always darkest before dawn. So if you're going to steal your neighbour's newspaper, that's the time to do it.
Don't be irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be promoted.
No-one is listening until you fart.
Never test the depth of the water with both feet.
It may be that your purpose in life is to serve as a warning to others.
If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a few car payments.
It is far more impressive when others discover your good qualities without your help.
Before you criticise someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticise them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.
If you lend someone R20 and you never see that person again, consider it was probably worth it.
That's enough for today! Enjoy them.
Monday 30 April 2012
Monday 23 April 2012
An exuberance of baboons
We had an exuberance of baboons in the neighbourhood today. This is the only word that correctly describes them! It's been such a long time since they've been around that we were almost caught unawares and had to dash around closing doors, windows, locking sliding doors (they lift them out), getting the dogs inside...
The little ones are much in evidence and quite a few large females, but the huge males we were used to seeing over the years have disappeared. They used to be the ones who were in the kitchen before you knew it, peeling bananas one-handed and scratching through the fridge at the same time.
Now the youngsters dangled from drainpipes, rollicked on the rooftops and shrieked in the shrubbery. It was like a bunch of kids let loose at summer camp. A fight broke out over a mielie and one was making off with a jar of pickles.
They leaped with joyful abandon from roof to roof, stripping the neighbour's apple tree bare on the way, and cocking a snook at those silly humans trying to wet them with hosepipes; as if they cared - some even stopped off in the fish pond to cool off.
After demolishing the bird feeder for a handful of seeds and eating all the berries off the Indian Hawthorn, crushing some clivias on the way, they departed as silently as they had arrived to seek a new playground further down the road.
The little ones are much in evidence and quite a few large females, but the huge males we were used to seeing over the years have disappeared. They used to be the ones who were in the kitchen before you knew it, peeling bananas one-handed and scratching through the fridge at the same time.
Now the youngsters dangled from drainpipes, rollicked on the rooftops and shrieked in the shrubbery. It was like a bunch of kids let loose at summer camp. A fight broke out over a mielie and one was making off with a jar of pickles.
They leaped with joyful abandon from roof to roof, stripping the neighbour's apple tree bare on the way, and cocking a snook at those silly humans trying to wet them with hosepipes; as if they cared - some even stopped off in the fish pond to cool off.
After demolishing the bird feeder for a handful of seeds and eating all the berries off the Indian Hawthorn, crushing some clivias on the way, they departed as silently as they had arrived to seek a new playground further down the road.
Friday 20 April 2012
Train travel in Italy
On our trip to Italy, parents, niece and I caught a train from Milan to Venice. Seats in a compartment had been booked well in advance at great expense. The carriages are clearly marked and the seats are easy to find, except that two of them are already occupied. I looked at the tickets and then the occupants, who play dumb. Not able to speak more than a few words of Italian, I resort to sign language, pointing to our tickets and gesturing that I want to see theirs. No response. OK, if that's the way you want to play it, we'll wait for the conductor.
In the meantime, parents need to sit, so they take the two open seats. I stand inside and niece stands outside. I still keep pointing to our tickets and muttering. Eventually the large, garishly dressed African gentleman at the window seat stands and goes out as if doing us a great favour, saying Italians can't be trusted. Stands in the passage with niece. I sit down, determined to find out who the guilty parties are. Then his equally large lady companion gets up, looking Po-faced (if you'll pardon the pun) and joins him in the passage. Aha! Her place is taken by a new entrant, an elegantly attired Italian woman who apparently does have a ticket. So there is still an interloper!
Brainwave! We are going to talk in Afrikaans. "Dis nou tyd vir aksie!" was all I could think of and niece and I squashed together next to a woman dressed in T-shirt and casual pants, reading the Italian version of Heat magazine. That's it! I stare into her eyes and point at her. She points to herself questioningly. I nod and indicate with my thumb that she should take a hike. She immediately gets up and goes off down the passage into the next compartment. A few minutes later we see her being ejected by the conductor who has at last arrived to sort out the freeloaders. The rest of the journey is comfortable and undisturbed.
So stick to your guns. If you have your ticket and you are sure you're in the right place, remember that half the locals didn't buy one and are hoping to catch a free ride.
In the meantime, parents need to sit, so they take the two open seats. I stand inside and niece stands outside. I still keep pointing to our tickets and muttering. Eventually the large, garishly dressed African gentleman at the window seat stands and goes out as if doing us a great favour, saying Italians can't be trusted. Stands in the passage with niece. I sit down, determined to find out who the guilty parties are. Then his equally large lady companion gets up, looking Po-faced (if you'll pardon the pun) and joins him in the passage. Aha! Her place is taken by a new entrant, an elegantly attired Italian woman who apparently does have a ticket. So there is still an interloper!
Brainwave! We are going to talk in Afrikaans. "Dis nou tyd vir aksie!" was all I could think of and niece and I squashed together next to a woman dressed in T-shirt and casual pants, reading the Italian version of Heat magazine. That's it! I stare into her eyes and point at her. She points to herself questioningly. I nod and indicate with my thumb that she should take a hike. She immediately gets up and goes off down the passage into the next compartment. A few minutes later we see her being ejected by the conductor who has at last arrived to sort out the freeloaders. The rest of the journey is comfortable and undisturbed.
So stick to your guns. If you have your ticket and you are sure you're in the right place, remember that half the locals didn't buy one and are hoping to catch a free ride.
Thursday 19 April 2012
How to keep your body toned
Just heard the news I have been waiting for all my life!
The only exercise you need for maximum benefit to your body is three minutes a week, broken up into three 20-second high-energy bursts every second day.
This obviously goes back to the days when we were cavemen. Picture the scene:
You're down by the river, sharp stick in hand, ready to spear a big fish for lunch. Suddenly, a huge prehistoric crocodile bursts out of the water, its cavernous mouth all but engulfing you. Adrenalin kicks in and twenty seconds later you are right at the top of that tree you just had a nap under.
The water settles and you climb down to continue fishing. Snap! There it comes again and you are once more up the tree. After a short rest you go back to the river bank.
Aaarrgghh! This time your 20-second burst takes you up the hill and back to the cave you call home.
You spend the next day relaxing under a tree to recover and give the croc time to move up-river. The next day you go hunting buck.
This activity keeps you in tip-top condition, which is lucky because it's going to be a long time before you invent the gym.
Sunday 15 April 2012
Starry, starry night...
Just stepped outside to look at the stars. The air is cool and still after the cold snap over the weekend and the moon is waning and still below the horizon. Perfect viewing conditions. Orion is dipping down towards the sea in the west, chased by the mass of stars which leads into the centre of our galaxy, the Milky Way.
Arcing across the northern sky are the zodiacal constellations, through which the planets and the moon glide silently on their paths along the ecliptic. Majestic Jupiter with its dancing moons has dropped below the western horizon and Venus is astoundingly bright, close behind. High up in Leo, Mars is showing us its red soil and coming up in the east is my favourite planet, Saturn with its visible dust rings. These planets are all easily visible with the naked eye and are distinguishable from stars in that they do not twinkle, as they only reflect light and do not generate it, and are brighter than any stars by virtue of being closer to Earth than the nearest star.
Tonight I'm not going to bring out the telescope. I'm just going to lean back in my chair and enjoy the wider view. See if anything new appears, or disappears. Maybe spot a satellite or three. Or just stare out into deep space and contemplate the awesomeness of the universe, of which we know practically nothing and probably never will, but which doesn't need us to understand it anyway. We are just a part of the whole and it will continue to unfold as intended without any help or hindrance from humanity.
Arcing across the northern sky are the zodiacal constellations, through which the planets and the moon glide silently on their paths along the ecliptic. Majestic Jupiter with its dancing moons has dropped below the western horizon and Venus is astoundingly bright, close behind. High up in Leo, Mars is showing us its red soil and coming up in the east is my favourite planet, Saturn with its visible dust rings. These planets are all easily visible with the naked eye and are distinguishable from stars in that they do not twinkle, as they only reflect light and do not generate it, and are brighter than any stars by virtue of being closer to Earth than the nearest star.
Tonight I'm not going to bring out the telescope. I'm just going to lean back in my chair and enjoy the wider view. See if anything new appears, or disappears. Maybe spot a satellite or three. Or just stare out into deep space and contemplate the awesomeness of the universe, of which we know practically nothing and probably never will, but which doesn't need us to understand it anyway. We are just a part of the whole and it will continue to unfold as intended without any help or hindrance from humanity.
Wednesday 11 April 2012
A long, hot summer
It's been a long, hot summer. We have had the driest year in 35 years here in Cape Town and it's starting to show. The well has dried up and the lawn is non-existent. Even the trees are distressed and are folding their leaves to conserve every drop of moisture. The restios which grow in the swamp at the top of the garden have all but died as even the underground spring which feeds them has dried up.
My hardy milkwood has dropped leaves like never before, trying to mulch itself and limit its thirst. And yet it has produced its most abundant crop of berries ever. The coprosma bore fruit twice this year and the fiddlewood has bloomed twice.
I see this as the trees' instinct for survival. They know they are struggling and so are putting out as many chances for continuation of their species as possible.
Easter has brought the first rains of winter and within days we have seen the lawn turn green again and the leaves have stopped falling. The garden is soaking up water in a way that can never be achieved with a hosepipe. It is almost as though the water is thinner and can sink in more easily. It seems nature prefers its water to come from a cloud rather than a plastic pipe, perhaps sensing that it isn't the purest source. At least we now know what plants can withstand the drought and not waste precious resources trying to grow plants that need constant nurturing to survive in an area that is not their natural habitat.
It is becoming more and more evident that we should treasure our indigenous flora rather than bringing in 'aliens', particularly in the Western Cape, whose floral kingdom has been declared by UNESCO to be "of outstanding value to humanity". We'd better look after it.
My hardy milkwood has dropped leaves like never before, trying to mulch itself and limit its thirst. And yet it has produced its most abundant crop of berries ever. The coprosma bore fruit twice this year and the fiddlewood has bloomed twice.
I see this as the trees' instinct for survival. They know they are struggling and so are putting out as many chances for continuation of their species as possible.
Easter has brought the first rains of winter and within days we have seen the lawn turn green again and the leaves have stopped falling. The garden is soaking up water in a way that can never be achieved with a hosepipe. It is almost as though the water is thinner and can sink in more easily. It seems nature prefers its water to come from a cloud rather than a plastic pipe, perhaps sensing that it isn't the purest source. At least we now know what plants can withstand the drought and not waste precious resources trying to grow plants that need constant nurturing to survive in an area that is not their natural habitat.
It is becoming more and more evident that we should treasure our indigenous flora rather than bringing in 'aliens', particularly in the Western Cape, whose floral kingdom has been declared by UNESCO to be "of outstanding value to humanity". We'd better look after it.
Tuesday 3 April 2012
Our cats #3
So Fluffy lives to fight another day. This cat is determined to never die. On Saturday I noticed his back leg was swollen and he was limping. He was obviously uncomfortable and possibly in pain, but as is the case with this household, human and animal, all illnesses and accidents are confined to weekends or after hours, so I decided to let sleeping cats lie and see what happened.
Sunday was the same. Swollen and limping. My son eventually confessed that he had stepped on Fluffy in the dark when he came home in the early hours of Saturday, but was quite sure he hadn't broken the cat's leg. Fluffy continued to eat and drink vast quantities, and limped from one end of the house to the other, following the sun during the day.
On Monday he had a small fit, not unusual, and knocked his sore leg against the gate. Aargghh! Blood and guts everywhere. He wouldn't let me touch him as his leg bled profusely and a tentative look revealed something that I didn't care to investigate. I was sure this was the end for Fluffy and the vet would decide that euthanasia was the answer. I discussed this with my daughter, who said I had better not let it happen. She can't imagine life without Fluffy. She spent her afternoon with him while we waited for the vet appointment, which the cat knew about, as I had been to collect the cat box. And this is where his survival instinct kicked in. He knew where we were taking him and he could sense that we might not bring him back to his patch of sunshine. By the time I put him in the box, he had eaten a large portion of fresh tuna, had a bowl of milk and been for a short limp in the garden. He was by no means at death's door.
The vet confirmed that it had been an abscess caused by a bite (from whom we don't know, as he never leaves the house) and my son was not guilty of assault. A few antibiotics and he is on the mend. He used up his ninth life many years ago. This is just sheer willpower. I think when he does go, he will haunt us to make sure we never forget him.
Sunday was the same. Swollen and limping. My son eventually confessed that he had stepped on Fluffy in the dark when he came home in the early hours of Saturday, but was quite sure he hadn't broken the cat's leg. Fluffy continued to eat and drink vast quantities, and limped from one end of the house to the other, following the sun during the day.
On Monday he had a small fit, not unusual, and knocked his sore leg against the gate. Aargghh! Blood and guts everywhere. He wouldn't let me touch him as his leg bled profusely and a tentative look revealed something that I didn't care to investigate. I was sure this was the end for Fluffy and the vet would decide that euthanasia was the answer. I discussed this with my daughter, who said I had better not let it happen. She can't imagine life without Fluffy. She spent her afternoon with him while we waited for the vet appointment, which the cat knew about, as I had been to collect the cat box. And this is where his survival instinct kicked in. He knew where we were taking him and he could sense that we might not bring him back to his patch of sunshine. By the time I put him in the box, he had eaten a large portion of fresh tuna, had a bowl of milk and been for a short limp in the garden. He was by no means at death's door.
The vet confirmed that it had been an abscess caused by a bite (from whom we don't know, as he never leaves the house) and my son was not guilty of assault. A few antibiotics and he is on the mend. He used up his ninth life many years ago. This is just sheer willpower. I think when he does go, he will haunt us to make sure we never forget him.
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