No matter what generation you belong to, your youth will always be 'the good old days'. It was a time that was divided between the tedium of school and the freedom of your leisure, before we had to join the rat race of careers and employment.
Back in the 60s, the Muizenberg beachfront was the place to go for roller skating and kite flying. My first pair of roller skates had, unbelievably, metal wheels. Presumably the person who invented them had never tried them out, but nevertheless, it didn't hold me back. My sisters had rubber wheels on their skates, but they were too big for me to try. The skates were held in place with clips that hooked onto the soles of my shoes - Bata Toughees! - and were tightened with a special key - woe betide she who lost that key! Sometimes they would come off your foot while skating - not very elegant. It would be years before the advent of the fully booted skates, by which time I was way past roller skating age.
You can only imagine what it was like to skate on metal, with nothing to cushion the vibration from the rather coarse tar surface we had on the roads in Clovelly. Skating along the promenade at Muizenberg had its own hazards, as it was laid with slabs with the accompanying cracks and the motion was more like hopping than the graceful gliding which was a figment of my imagination. How I never ended up with a broken leg remains a mystery to this day. And yet it was always a fun outing, particularly if we could get a granadilla sorbet frozen sucker from the infrequently open shop at the pavilion.
Kite flying and associated activities took place on the windswept and rather bleak lawns of Zandvlei, an area that would have been shunned were it not for the expansive open space which couldn't be found anywhere else. It was long before the Marina da Gama was developed and the vlei was the domain of dabchicks, coot and the odd yacht and canoe. I had a model aeroplane with wings that revolved as I pulled it behind me like a kite and its altitude depended on how fast I could run. I don't have it any more, so I suppose it must have had a fatal crash somewhere along the way.
The only feature that remains from those days is the putt-putt course which has remained open for what must be 50 years now - makes me feel quite old to even write that! Perhaps that is some kind of record, for businesses come and go as often as the weather changes in a place that hasn't quite regained its former glory.
Friday, 31 May 2013
Thursday, 30 May 2013
Day 2 of the painting saga
We continued with the preparation of the walls and woodwork to spruce up my daughter's bedroom today. The trusty gardener/painter, who I had arranged to fetch from home due to the bad weather, had decided to walk the few kilometres, and as I drove up the road, I saw him getting into a van which had stopped to offer him a lift as it was pouring with rain. When I could eventually make a U-turn and was driving back home, I spied him relieving himself against a tree outside - I could tell immediately that this was not a favourable omen.
It didn't take much time to work out that he had had a few toots before coming to work, as he gets very verbose and wanted to discuss exactly what he was supposed to be doing, as by his reckoning he was almost finished the day before. I had already explained in detail that he had to fill a hole in a door and then sand the skirting. It took him about 20 minutes to unscrew the hinges from the door as he was having difficulty fitting the screwdriver into the slot in the screws. He then spent an awfully long time making sanding noises and I could tell that things were not going well.
All fell quiet and I went to see what he was up to. He was kneeling on the ground with his head very close to the floor, mumbling. "Okay, Daniel. I can see you are very tired today - I'm going to take you home now and we'll just finish it ourselves. You need to have a good sleep." With as much alacrity as he could muster, he stood up and gave a sheepish smile. "I can see you've had a few drinks," said I, and he nodded in agreement - the game was up and he could see he wouldn't get away with it. "I did have a couple of beers this morning. I thought it might help," he said, and I didn't have the heart to disagree with him. We had a very convivial discussion in the car on the way home and talked about the old days and the various employers he had had, and how some had treated him well and some badly.
We had a good laugh and I told him not to come back until at least next week, by which time we would have finished the job and he could go back to gardening. He understood completely and there were no hard feelings. I think he was so relieved to be able to go and lie down!
It didn't take much time to work out that he had had a few toots before coming to work, as he gets very verbose and wanted to discuss exactly what he was supposed to be doing, as by his reckoning he was almost finished the day before. I had already explained in detail that he had to fill a hole in a door and then sand the skirting. It took him about 20 minutes to unscrew the hinges from the door as he was having difficulty fitting the screwdriver into the slot in the screws. He then spent an awfully long time making sanding noises and I could tell that things were not going well.
All fell quiet and I went to see what he was up to. He was kneeling on the ground with his head very close to the floor, mumbling. "Okay, Daniel. I can see you are very tired today - I'm going to take you home now and we'll just finish it ourselves. You need to have a good sleep." With as much alacrity as he could muster, he stood up and gave a sheepish smile. "I can see you've had a few drinks," said I, and he nodded in agreement - the game was up and he could see he wouldn't get away with it. "I did have a couple of beers this morning. I thought it might help," he said, and I didn't have the heart to disagree with him. We had a very convivial discussion in the car on the way home and talked about the old days and the various employers he had had, and how some had treated him well and some badly.
We had a good laugh and I told him not to come back until at least next week, by which time we would have finished the job and he could go back to gardening. He understood completely and there were no hard feelings. I think he was so relieved to be able to go and lie down!
Wednesday, 29 May 2013
You'd think we would have done this in summer
My daughter decided to paint her bedroom. It has been a dark blue since her early teens and it is definitely time to lighten up. Things move slowly in this household and many weeks of contemplation and decision-making as to timing have elapsed. Today was the day - the contents of the room have been shifted to a spare bedroom except for the larger pieces of furniture. And then Father stepped in...
He Who Can Fix Anything will not put up with a lick of paint. No, the entire room - walls, ceiling, window frames - has to be sanded first, then any holes patched and sanded again, then any remnants of old floor tiles which may have been lurking under cupboards must be removed with thinners, then everything wiped down. We enlisted the trusty and overzealous gardener to do this work, which had not formed part of our original plan, and I'm sure it was preferable to working in the garden, as the weather steadily deteriorated over the course of the day.
HWCFA undertook to reputty the windows, and so he took them out and went down to the garage to do a proper job as is his wont. Unfortunately the proper job took so long that the wind came up and blew a gale through the house - the windows are on the weather side - and then came the rain. There was no chance to pin up a black bag over the window to keep it out as the wind was too strong, so we just let nature take its course.. It was a taste of how many Cape Town residents experience winter except that we are one storey off the ground. I am amazed that they stay for more than one winter.
The wind subsided a little once the rain began and so the influx was not bad and I managed to mop everything up in a lull. The windows - beautifully restored as would be expected from HWCFA - were duly installed and ready to repel winter. The rest of the house looks like a bomb hit it. The overflow of stuff from her bedroom is in the passage, the bathroom, on the dining room table, the spare room is stuffed to capacity and she is camping on the lounge floor. Lucky we aren't expecting visitors any time soon. The only place that is reasonably operative is the kitchen, so at least I can keep the troops fed without interruption.
Tomorrow we will continue with the sanding, vacuuming, wiping down and floor scraping. I have absolutely no idea when the actual painting will begin. And there we were thinking we would do it on her day off. At least the windows in that room are done. Only eight to go.
He Who Can Fix Anything will not put up with a lick of paint. No, the entire room - walls, ceiling, window frames - has to be sanded first, then any holes patched and sanded again, then any remnants of old floor tiles which may have been lurking under cupboards must be removed with thinners, then everything wiped down. We enlisted the trusty and overzealous gardener to do this work, which had not formed part of our original plan, and I'm sure it was preferable to working in the garden, as the weather steadily deteriorated over the course of the day.
HWCFA undertook to reputty the windows, and so he took them out and went down to the garage to do a proper job as is his wont. Unfortunately the proper job took so long that the wind came up and blew a gale through the house - the windows are on the weather side - and then came the rain. There was no chance to pin up a black bag over the window to keep it out as the wind was too strong, so we just let nature take its course.. It was a taste of how many Cape Town residents experience winter except that we are one storey off the ground. I am amazed that they stay for more than one winter.
The wind subsided a little once the rain began and so the influx was not bad and I managed to mop everything up in a lull. The windows - beautifully restored as would be expected from HWCFA - were duly installed and ready to repel winter. The rest of the house looks like a bomb hit it. The overflow of stuff from her bedroom is in the passage, the bathroom, on the dining room table, the spare room is stuffed to capacity and she is camping on the lounge floor. Lucky we aren't expecting visitors any time soon. The only place that is reasonably operative is the kitchen, so at least I can keep the troops fed without interruption.
Tomorrow we will continue with the sanding, vacuuming, wiping down and floor scraping. I have absolutely no idea when the actual painting will begin. And there we were thinking we would do it on her day off. At least the windows in that room are done. Only eight to go.
Tuesday, 28 May 2013
Beautiful bromeliads
One of the few plant species that I seem to be able to grow successfully in Kommetjie is the bromeliad. Our soil is more like white sand, as this was once part of the seabed, and is oily in texture, which means that any watering is pretty ineffective unless you stand there for half a day. It justs runs off the surface in the nearest downhill direction, usually the neighbour's garden, and joins the 30 years of compost and fertilizer I have dug in - there is no point in doing this, as it works its way back to the surface as if the sand is trying to rid itself of alien vegetation.
Bromeliads are in the main air plants, not really needing a root system for sustenance, and like a little watering in the middle where the leaf growth occurs, so this is ideal for soil that doesn't hold water. Most bromeliads have razor sharp serrations along the leaves, and any kind of gardening in that area should be undertaken with chainmail up to the elbows. The photo below demonstrates the extent of my allergy to these serrations. This is an arm!
Snails are drawn like magnets to these damp hollows where the new young leaves shoot and probably account for lack of flowering as they eat the buds, and therefore it is a hazard of growing bromeliads that you have to remove the snails all the time if you don't like to use snail bait. Unfortunately the porcupine seems to have taken a fancy to biting at the base of these plants, and can be very destructive while not getting a decent meal.
The many varieties (over 1 000) can provide flowering all year round and they are spectacular in their form and colour spectrum. They are very effective when placed in tree branches or grown in metal sculpture bases, in fact in any place that needs to be filled. The only requisite is light to deep shade. Sunlight can fade the leaves and inhibit flowering. These are a few of these remarkable flowers - probably bracts and the flowers are tiny - but I will just call them flowers!
Bromeliads are in the main air plants, not really needing a root system for sustenance, and like a little watering in the middle where the leaf growth occurs, so this is ideal for soil that doesn't hold water. Most bromeliads have razor sharp serrations along the leaves, and any kind of gardening in that area should be undertaken with chainmail up to the elbows. The photo below demonstrates the extent of my allergy to these serrations. This is an arm!
Snails are drawn like magnets to these damp hollows where the new young leaves shoot and probably account for lack of flowering as they eat the buds, and therefore it is a hazard of growing bromeliads that you have to remove the snails all the time if you don't like to use snail bait. Unfortunately the porcupine seems to have taken a fancy to biting at the base of these plants, and can be very destructive while not getting a decent meal.
The many varieties (over 1 000) can provide flowering all year round and they are spectacular in their form and colour spectrum. They are very effective when placed in tree branches or grown in metal sculpture bases, in fact in any place that needs to be filled. The only requisite is light to deep shade. Sunlight can fade the leaves and inhibit flowering. These are a few of these remarkable flowers - probably bracts and the flowers are tiny - but I will just call them flowers!
Monday, 27 May 2013
And now a flock of flamingos
This morning as I looked out over the sea at the backdrop of dark grey cloud heralding a downpour, the rising sun produced the brightest rainbow you could wish to see, in stark contrast to the heavy grey. At that moment, a flock of thirty flamingos gracefully glided across the scene, their pink and white plumage literally glowing in the early sun. It was worthy of a photo from National Geographic, but of course I was too busy enjoying it to rush inside for a camera. The flock came to rest in the Kom, where two birds had scouted the area the previous day. Apparently this is their modus operandi, to send out a pair to find feeding grounds and bring the rest of the flock back.
Once again, photographers and twitchers gathered for this unusual sighting, made all the better by the fact that they were in the tidal pool and you didn't need binoculars to see them. Photos have proliferated on Facebook for those unlucky enough not to live nearby and requests have been sent out for a little animal control.
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| Photo taken by Mel Gouws! |
They didn't stay for long, and probably returned to the nearby Wildevoelvlei but we are hoping that they will become regular visitors in the Kom.
The most exciting part of the whole event is that everyone's focus was on something beautiful and uplifting, allowing us to push aside the daily drivel we are subjected to in the media, and understand that nature is still our source of the greatest pleasures in life, and it is for everyone and free to boot!
Sunday, 26 May 2013
A grey day
It's been a grey day today. We had a little rain in the night but nothing like the forecast heavy rain, nor has it rained again today. It's just been a nothing sort of day with a low sky and no sounds of any activity from outside. I think everyone has stayed under the duvet.
On this day last year, we were celebrating a wedding in Marbella and the lucky couple are now second honeymooning in Barbados while the rest of us make do with watching the opening rounds of Roland Garros (hard to believe it's another year already) and the Monaco Grand Prix.
He Who Can Fix Anything has been hard at it, starting with replacing the kitchen lights (only been out for two weeks now) and then heading into his garage for some metal cutting and welding. He has had to put up two more shelves in the garage for all the racing trophies. He is currently leading the field again so it seems as though more trophies are heading his way. Things didn't go quite according to plan to start with (the metal cutting) and the air was filled with more colourful language than you would expect to hear late at night in a bar after a rugby match. The neighbours all closed their windows and blinds - but that could have had something to do with the cold weather. I stayed safely upstairs in the kitchen making soup with my headphones on.
Eventually all was sorted out and the new brackets fitted to the wall and planks fixed in place and the air resumed its natural colour. We then lounged under the duvet while we enjoyed a very eventful Monaco Grand Prix and some less eventful but equally enjoyable pea soup and croutons - in keeping with the French theme of the day.
As the day draws to an end, it still hasn't rained as promised, and HWCFA is making suggestions about taking a walk along the seafront with the dogs. The smell of freshly turned seaweed on a spring high tide is pungent in the air and it will no doubt do us good to have a bit of exercise after such a lazy day, but the thought doesn't fill me with enthusiasm. I'd rather cuddle up on the couch and watch tennis.
On this day last year, we were celebrating a wedding in Marbella and the lucky couple are now second honeymooning in Barbados while the rest of us make do with watching the opening rounds of Roland Garros (hard to believe it's another year already) and the Monaco Grand Prix.
He Who Can Fix Anything has been hard at it, starting with replacing the kitchen lights (only been out for two weeks now) and then heading into his garage for some metal cutting and welding. He has had to put up two more shelves in the garage for all the racing trophies. He is currently leading the field again so it seems as though more trophies are heading his way. Things didn't go quite according to plan to start with (the metal cutting) and the air was filled with more colourful language than you would expect to hear late at night in a bar after a rugby match. The neighbours all closed their windows and blinds - but that could have had something to do with the cold weather. I stayed safely upstairs in the kitchen making soup with my headphones on.
Eventually all was sorted out and the new brackets fitted to the wall and planks fixed in place and the air resumed its natural colour. We then lounged under the duvet while we enjoyed a very eventful Monaco Grand Prix and some less eventful but equally enjoyable pea soup and croutons - in keeping with the French theme of the day.
As the day draws to an end, it still hasn't rained as promised, and HWCFA is making suggestions about taking a walk along the seafront with the dogs. The smell of freshly turned seaweed on a spring high tide is pungent in the air and it will no doubt do us good to have a bit of exercise after such a lazy day, but the thought doesn't fill me with enthusiasm. I'd rather cuddle up on the couch and watch tennis.
Saturday, 25 May 2013
An enthusiastic gardener
I recently re-employed my old gardener who first worked for us when we moved to Kommetjie 31 years ago. He is probably the same age as us, but looks rather weathered through the hard life he has lived. We stopped having a gardener many years ago and I took over but it really is too big to keep my hand on and still do all the other things I have to do, like work sometimes.
He is an educated man and speaks with an educated accent. He can also read and write just like you and I and it is a great shame that circumstances have kept him where he is, but he has never complained about his life and maybe we shouldn't expect others to live as we think they ought. He has a house and he is getting a government pension soon, more than he has ever earned from gardening, so he is probably better off than most.
However, he is a trifle overzealous when it comes to cleaning up the garden. He will spend hours picking up all the leaves in the flowerbeds and under the trees and if you don't check on him often, as I didn't, you will find that 10 years of mulch and topsoil has been removed and the roots of the plants are exposed to open air! The worst part is that it was all lugged off to the local dump before I did an inspection, so I can only hope for the best and that all the leaves will accumulate again in as short a time as possible.
Today he popped in for a few hours' work before rain sets in and I asked him to prune the grape vines and pull out the grass around the cats' graves. About an hour later I heard a heavy chopping sound, which I could immediately identify as a spade hitting roots. I hotfooted it out into the garden to find out which tree was having its roots pruned and found he had dug a massive hole around the 30-year-old vine and was trying valiantly to chop through the tap root to take the stump out!
I didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't quite what I had in mind, so told him to just fill in the hole and leave the root to rot rather than put his back out. The only consolation is that the vine only bore the sourest of wine grapes, not table grapes, and was really more a decorative feature in summer than a source of fruit.
You don't even want to know what he did with the panga! Oh alright, I'll tell you. He trimmed the shoots which grow from the base of the trunk of the coprosmas rather enthusiastically and the poor trees have open wounds like polka dots, from which only time will tell if they recover.
At least he puts in an honest day's work even if the results are sometimes a little startling!
He is an educated man and speaks with an educated accent. He can also read and write just like you and I and it is a great shame that circumstances have kept him where he is, but he has never complained about his life and maybe we shouldn't expect others to live as we think they ought. He has a house and he is getting a government pension soon, more than he has ever earned from gardening, so he is probably better off than most.
However, he is a trifle overzealous when it comes to cleaning up the garden. He will spend hours picking up all the leaves in the flowerbeds and under the trees and if you don't check on him often, as I didn't, you will find that 10 years of mulch and topsoil has been removed and the roots of the plants are exposed to open air! The worst part is that it was all lugged off to the local dump before I did an inspection, so I can only hope for the best and that all the leaves will accumulate again in as short a time as possible.
Today he popped in for a few hours' work before rain sets in and I asked him to prune the grape vines and pull out the grass around the cats' graves. About an hour later I heard a heavy chopping sound, which I could immediately identify as a spade hitting roots. I hotfooted it out into the garden to find out which tree was having its roots pruned and found he had dug a massive hole around the 30-year-old vine and was trying valiantly to chop through the tap root to take the stump out!
I didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't quite what I had in mind, so told him to just fill in the hole and leave the root to rot rather than put his back out. The only consolation is that the vine only bore the sourest of wine grapes, not table grapes, and was really more a decorative feature in summer than a source of fruit.
You don't even want to know what he did with the panga! Oh alright, I'll tell you. He trimmed the shoots which grow from the base of the trunk of the coprosmas rather enthusiastically and the poor trees have open wounds like polka dots, from which only time will tell if they recover.
At least he puts in an honest day's work even if the results are sometimes a little startling!
Friday, 24 May 2013
When you can't see for looking...
Today the part of Kommetjie where I live has remained blanketed in a cold, clammy fog, rather like London in the Spring I would think, while the rest of the Peninsula has been bathed in the warmth of the sun. To escape the chill, a friend and I nipped over the mountain to the rolling hills of the Constantia vineyards for a walk back in history at Groot Constantia. After partaking in a leisurely luncheon, the time came to pay the bill and I reached into my bag for my wallet. This bag has many compartments and is multi-zipped for additional security. The wallet also has many pockets and places for cards. I had stopped earlier at a supermarket for some essentials and had used my debit card, but as is our way, paying is an automatic response procedure where you take the card, put it in your bag, sign the slip, put that in the bag, then leave.
My friend can vouch that I searched every pocket of that bag, every compartment of the wallet, zipped and unzipped everything that had a zip, searched through everything again and again. I searched through diaries, notebooks, piles of receipts, folded up tissues, my jeans pockets, the wallet again - to no avail. And try as I might, I couldn't remember if the cashier had handed the card back. I break out into a little sweat when a card goes missing, not because I fear that someone will hack into my account and withdraw thousands of Rands (no chance of that! - they would be sorely disappointed), but because I fear I have lost my mind as I cannot find it or remember the chain of events. Alzheimer's looms large on the horizon.
My friend sent her husband to the supermarket to find out if they had found the card while we drove back to Noordhoek to sort it out at the bank. When we pulled into the vast parking lot, by an amazing coincidence we turned into the exact same parking space as I had been in earlier, so I scouted the area and asked the car guard if he had seen it, but of course he had no idea what I was talking about. A discussion with the manager at the supermarket revealed nothing and by that time the bank was closed, so as soon as I got home, I phoned to cancel the card.
I have just emptied the bag and thrown out all unnecessary items. I opened my wallet and removed every single thing from each compartment and threw more unnecessary scraps of paper, business cards, appointment cards, shopping lists, a TV licence and two paperclips into the bin. I then shook it upside down just to clean out the crumbs that seem to gather in the darkest recesses - and the debit card fell out.
The mind just boggles.
I have to say that I once lost my credit card and two weeks later found it in my handbag, which I had also searched with the same thoroughness. I am now going to whittle down the things I carry with me to a wallet with one line of cards, one zip compartment for coins, and one pocket for notes. The bag will have one pocket for lipstick, mirror and comb, and the big space will be for the wallet. But then where will I put the diary, notebook, pen, tissues, cellphone, pocket knife, small screwdriver, toothpicks, waterless handcleaner, fold-up shopping bag... I have tried a bag organiser, but I need a bag organiser for the bag organiser.
If anyone has the solution, please let me know. Otherwise I will have to come back as a man in my next life and just keep it in my pockets.
My friend can vouch that I searched every pocket of that bag, every compartment of the wallet, zipped and unzipped everything that had a zip, searched through everything again and again. I searched through diaries, notebooks, piles of receipts, folded up tissues, my jeans pockets, the wallet again - to no avail. And try as I might, I couldn't remember if the cashier had handed the card back. I break out into a little sweat when a card goes missing, not because I fear that someone will hack into my account and withdraw thousands of Rands (no chance of that! - they would be sorely disappointed), but because I fear I have lost my mind as I cannot find it or remember the chain of events. Alzheimer's looms large on the horizon.
My friend sent her husband to the supermarket to find out if they had found the card while we drove back to Noordhoek to sort it out at the bank. When we pulled into the vast parking lot, by an amazing coincidence we turned into the exact same parking space as I had been in earlier, so I scouted the area and asked the car guard if he had seen it, but of course he had no idea what I was talking about. A discussion with the manager at the supermarket revealed nothing and by that time the bank was closed, so as soon as I got home, I phoned to cancel the card.
I have just emptied the bag and thrown out all unnecessary items. I opened my wallet and removed every single thing from each compartment and threw more unnecessary scraps of paper, business cards, appointment cards, shopping lists, a TV licence and two paperclips into the bin. I then shook it upside down just to clean out the crumbs that seem to gather in the darkest recesses - and the debit card fell out.
The mind just boggles.
I have to say that I once lost my credit card and two weeks later found it in my handbag, which I had also searched with the same thoroughness. I am now going to whittle down the things I carry with me to a wallet with one line of cards, one zip compartment for coins, and one pocket for notes. The bag will have one pocket for lipstick, mirror and comb, and the big space will be for the wallet. But then where will I put the diary, notebook, pen, tissues, cellphone, pocket knife, small screwdriver, toothpicks, waterless handcleaner, fold-up shopping bag... I have tried a bag organiser, but I need a bag organiser for the bag organiser.
If anyone has the solution, please let me know. Otherwise I will have to come back as a man in my next life and just keep it in my pockets.
Thursday, 23 May 2013
A little fun with alliteration
A Facebook friend posted a photo of flamingos in the Kom this morning. Such excitement! The early fitness fanatics and their furry friends were there in a flash, as was I, to photograph this phenomenon. Few could remember seeing flamingos in Kommetjie for at least 30 years and more and this welcome sight must mean that the environment is once again Feeding Friendly For Flamingos.
In the same binocular field of view, a pair of Oyster Catchers and two Blacksmith Plovers foraged for food, while a flock of starlings flew frenziedly overhead. Far out to sea, a fishing boat forged full steam ahead, while a small sailboat slid silently south.
All through the day, people have been coming to see the flamingos up close, with their curious moonwalking gait that stirs up the mud to chase the shrimps from their burrows. This morning the tide was out and we could see the whole leg, but with high tide this afternoon, their legs and entire necks were submerged as they continued their quest. Suddenly they spread their wings and took to the sky, soaring gracefully over the bay in elegant formation, their legs and necks in perfect balance. They glided gracefully back down to the shallows and recommenced feeding. What a treat!
In the bay, an equally graceful stand-up paddler and a paddleskier were taking advantage of the glassy conditions and I once again felt the need to be out their with them. My family are convinced that I am too old for such activity, but the only problem really is how to get the ski from home down to the rocks. I'll still do it, so watch this space!
In the same binocular field of view, a pair of Oyster Catchers and two Blacksmith Plovers foraged for food, while a flock of starlings flew frenziedly overhead. Far out to sea, a fishing boat forged full steam ahead, while a small sailboat slid silently south.
All through the day, people have been coming to see the flamingos up close, with their curious moonwalking gait that stirs up the mud to chase the shrimps from their burrows. This morning the tide was out and we could see the whole leg, but with high tide this afternoon, their legs and entire necks were submerged as they continued their quest. Suddenly they spread their wings and took to the sky, soaring gracefully over the bay in elegant formation, their legs and necks in perfect balance. They glided gracefully back down to the shallows and recommenced feeding. What a treat!
In the bay, an equally graceful stand-up paddler and a paddleskier were taking advantage of the glassy conditions and I once again felt the need to be out their with them. My family are convinced that I am too old for such activity, but the only problem really is how to get the ski from home down to the rocks. I'll still do it, so watch this space!
Wednesday, 22 May 2013
Nature at work again
After a perfect day yesterday, I was woken at 4.30 by thunder reverberating overhead as it bounced around in the clouds. Although I kept my eyes closed, the brilliant blue flashes of lightning were more than a match for puny eyelids trying to catch the last few hours of shut-eye and I counted the seconds before each roll of thunder - some were only 6 seconds after the flash. I was too lazy - having just spent an hour reading a book between 3 and 4 - to get up to have a look and it was soon over and all fell quiet again.
A little rain did fall, sufficient to relieve me of the daily potplant watering, but so far it has been a very dry May. As the sun rose, the clouds scudded away towards the East, and by late morning the last clouds disappeared. In fact, the very last cloud was an incredibly high sheet of ice, patterned like a DNA helix with the rungs of the ladder twisted in ovals and a spectacular double rainbow formed two rings around the sun as it tried to hide behind this unusual cloud formation. Beyond the outer rainbow, the clouds themselves shone in pale pastel green and pink, a stunning vision which I regrettably could not capture on camera due to the position of the sun. I hope some of you were lucky enough to observe this phenomenon.
This afternoon I saw a strange sight out to sea through 'the gap' which is my sea view - a raft of cormorants floating on the sea in such numbers that they appeared to form a single mass, and as I grabbed the binoculars, a seemingly endless string of birds flew in from the North and joined the feathered flotilla. Hundreds and hundreds arrived and then suddenly they all took flight as if they had gathered for some kind of mass display and a black cloud took to the skies - I made a guesstimate as they flew away and reckon there must have been 1 500 birds. This is in itself not a lot, but certainly more than I have ever seen. My father has counted a flock of 20 000 in False Bay and up towards Dassen Island you will find more than 100 000 at a time.
In such numbers, there must be some competition between the fisherman and the birds for our dwindling resources and one can only wonder who will win in the end.
A little rain did fall, sufficient to relieve me of the daily potplant watering, but so far it has been a very dry May. As the sun rose, the clouds scudded away towards the East, and by late morning the last clouds disappeared. In fact, the very last cloud was an incredibly high sheet of ice, patterned like a DNA helix with the rungs of the ladder twisted in ovals and a spectacular double rainbow formed two rings around the sun as it tried to hide behind this unusual cloud formation. Beyond the outer rainbow, the clouds themselves shone in pale pastel green and pink, a stunning vision which I regrettably could not capture on camera due to the position of the sun. I hope some of you were lucky enough to observe this phenomenon.
This afternoon I saw a strange sight out to sea through 'the gap' which is my sea view - a raft of cormorants floating on the sea in such numbers that they appeared to form a single mass, and as I grabbed the binoculars, a seemingly endless string of birds flew in from the North and joined the feathered flotilla. Hundreds and hundreds arrived and then suddenly they all took flight as if they had gathered for some kind of mass display and a black cloud took to the skies - I made a guesstimate as they flew away and reckon there must have been 1 500 birds. This is in itself not a lot, but certainly more than I have ever seen. My father has counted a flock of 20 000 in False Bay and up towards Dassen Island you will find more than 100 000 at a time.
In such numbers, there must be some competition between the fisherman and the birds for our dwindling resources and one can only wonder who will win in the end.
Tuesday, 21 May 2013
Lazy day
Today began at 5am with the fishing fleet chugging by my window. At 6am the sea must have picked up, because the crashing of the waves disturbed my dozing. A while later the Dirty Dozen arrived to empty the wheelie bins with no thought for those who were trying to catch the last of their shut-eye.
After a little perfunctory laundry duty, I hotfooted it up the road to clear the post box, then sat under the milkwood tree in the balmy autumn air enjoying a customary cappuccino. With every good intention to spend the rest of the day hard at work, my very pliable rubber arm was twisted to play hookey due to the exceptional weather we are experiencing and I found myself, after a little more perfunctory housework, sitting at a table at the Blue Water Cafe at Imhoff Farm with a group of very cheerful ladies who also felt the call of the great outdoors.
The view was spectacular, stretching from the Sentinel in Hout Bay across the sweep of bright white sands of Long Beach, Wildevoelvlei, Ou Kaapse Weg and Clovelly mountains. Horses grazed in fields of green and ducks and peacocks roamed a stone's throw away from where we enjoyed a long and very leisurely lunch as ladies can, with plenty of diverse and entertaining conversation. Much, much later - more towards evening - the ladies moved on, while I unfortunately had to return to my housework duties to make it appear that my day had been filled with domestic endeavours! This only means that dinner must be ready, so it was no hardship really.
Life needs a good balance of work and play, and I reckon 50/50 will do it!
After a little perfunctory laundry duty, I hotfooted it up the road to clear the post box, then sat under the milkwood tree in the balmy autumn air enjoying a customary cappuccino. With every good intention to spend the rest of the day hard at work, my very pliable rubber arm was twisted to play hookey due to the exceptional weather we are experiencing and I found myself, after a little more perfunctory housework, sitting at a table at the Blue Water Cafe at Imhoff Farm with a group of very cheerful ladies who also felt the call of the great outdoors.
The view was spectacular, stretching from the Sentinel in Hout Bay across the sweep of bright white sands of Long Beach, Wildevoelvlei, Ou Kaapse Weg and Clovelly mountains. Horses grazed in fields of green and ducks and peacocks roamed a stone's throw away from where we enjoyed a long and very leisurely lunch as ladies can, with plenty of diverse and entertaining conversation. Much, much later - more towards evening - the ladies moved on, while I unfortunately had to return to my housework duties to make it appear that my day had been filled with domestic endeavours! This only means that dinner must be ready, so it was no hardship really.
Life needs a good balance of work and play, and I reckon 50/50 will do it!
Monday, 20 May 2013
Talking about the weather
Simply the most maaahvellous May, m'dears! It's getting almost embarrassing to report on the stupendous weather we are having in Cape Town this May. We must enjoy it while we can, because history tells us that May can produce some of the biggest storms of winter, before settling down into a calm and sunny June before the onset of real winter at the south-western tip of Africa. Europe and Britain seem to be suffering from an unusually poor Spring but I'm sure things will improve. I posted recently that I had planted the first Spring seedlings, the bokbaai vygies which are literally carpets of jewels in their masses up the West Coast in August. Today I had a look at the little plants and there is already a bud opening - I fear it's in for a shock later, but no doubt they will withstand winter - the seasons seem a little crazy at present.
I was sent some photos of the South Atlantic volcanic island of Tristan da Cunha by a friend who lives there as part of the fishing industry, and was amazed to see that the children were running around in skimpy sundresses and that the sea was completely calm. Not what I imagined the South Atlantic to look like, but perhaps it was a good day. He says that the climate is much like Cape Town, and it looks like a very interesting place to stay, if only for a short while. No doubt those who live there find it idyllic as the only inhabitants are those who are working at the fishing company based there, and so it must be a very close community made up of people who were picked for their ability to live harmoniously with their colleagues!
I remember when I was starting school, way back in the early 60s, that the volcano erupted and ships had to be sent to evacuate the residents - some of them came to the school and were involuntary celebrities. After all, how many people can say they have been rescued from an exploding island. I'm not sure if they expect any eruptions in the near future, or if they are even able to predict them, and I'm sure it adds a bit of an edge to living there. I'm not sure if I would enjoy living on that edge!
I was sent some photos of the South Atlantic volcanic island of Tristan da Cunha by a friend who lives there as part of the fishing industry, and was amazed to see that the children were running around in skimpy sundresses and that the sea was completely calm. Not what I imagined the South Atlantic to look like, but perhaps it was a good day. He says that the climate is much like Cape Town, and it looks like a very interesting place to stay, if only for a short while. No doubt those who live there find it idyllic as the only inhabitants are those who are working at the fishing company based there, and so it must be a very close community made up of people who were picked for their ability to live harmoniously with their colleagues!
I remember when I was starting school, way back in the early 60s, that the volcano erupted and ships had to be sent to evacuate the residents - some of them came to the school and were involuntary celebrities. After all, how many people can say they have been rescued from an exploding island. I'm not sure if they expect any eruptions in the near future, or if they are even able to predict them, and I'm sure it adds a bit of an edge to living there. I'm not sure if I would enjoy living on that edge!
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Dad's into his 86th year
Today we celebrated Father's 85th birthday with a family lunch, cooked by his three daughters and surrounded by his family. It was a far cry from last year's birthday, which went by virtually unnoticed as we travelled the byways of Spain, meandering from town to town from Madrid down to Marbella.
We sat outside on the newly refurbished deck with its views up the mountain and later moved with the sun to the lower garden where we enjoyed the panoramic view across the Fish Hoek valley towards the West. The name of the family home is Belvedere, which means a building positioned to give a fine view of the surrounding area, and how aptly named it is. And my mother's maiden name is West, so there's another bit of synchronicity for you.
Family gatherings are events which are not for the uninitiated, as everybody always talks at once and we have so much to talk about, and the decibels can reach noise pollution levels if you are inside, so we usually sit outside to let it dissipate into the ether. The trouble is, when we are outside there are even more things to talk about - Has the cobra shed its skin yet and is it bigger than last year? Is that a booted eagle? Did you know the porcupine has started to eat the bromeliads? and such like. I come from a curious family and by that I mean we are all curious about lots of things.
I believe that is the secret of my parents' youthful approach to life - their interest in learning something new all the time. They belong to numerous societies - birds, astronomy, stamps, photography, University of the Third Age, Probus - and they are always out and about. I hope we will all be like them when we are in our 80s.
And I suspect that Dad would not have been averse to spending his 85th birthday in Spain either!
We sat outside on the newly refurbished deck with its views up the mountain and later moved with the sun to the lower garden where we enjoyed the panoramic view across the Fish Hoek valley towards the West. The name of the family home is Belvedere, which means a building positioned to give a fine view of the surrounding area, and how aptly named it is. And my mother's maiden name is West, so there's another bit of synchronicity for you.
Family gatherings are events which are not for the uninitiated, as everybody always talks at once and we have so much to talk about, and the decibels can reach noise pollution levels if you are inside, so we usually sit outside to let it dissipate into the ether. The trouble is, when we are outside there are even more things to talk about - Has the cobra shed its skin yet and is it bigger than last year? Is that a booted eagle? Did you know the porcupine has started to eat the bromeliads? and such like. I come from a curious family and by that I mean we are all curious about lots of things.
I believe that is the secret of my parents' youthful approach to life - their interest in learning something new all the time. They belong to numerous societies - birds, astronomy, stamps, photography, University of the Third Age, Probus - and they are always out and about. I hope we will all be like them when we are in our 80s.
And I suspect that Dad would not have been averse to spending his 85th birthday in Spain either!
Saturday, 18 May 2013
Comments heard in art studios
During the Noughties (2000s), I had my own art studio in Noordhoek, where I would paint in public view and sell the work myself. Being on the spot could be either beneficial or detrimental, depending on your point of view. People would come in and not notice me behind my easel and pass comments, some complimentary and some rather rude, and I learned to take the good with the bad. Without my own studio, I acknowledge that I may have had some difficulty selling as many paintings as I did, as it can be very difficult to be accepted by galleries if you have no formal training and are not 'well-known', not to mention just not good enough. But I can proudly say that I achieved a measure of success through my own studio and through galleries despite the premium prices in the latter, which do not reach the artist.
Some of the comments became so hackneyed that I felt I should write them down and after all this time, I have found a use for the notes I made, which I came across today while scratching through some papers. I would love to share them with you, together with my interpretation:
'I'll buy it when I win the Lotto' - I won't hold my breath, it's never going to happen.
'I'll bring my husband/wife to see it' - there is no money in the bank.
'My husband will love it!' - highly unlikely. He'll peep round the corner and retreat before I notice him.
'I'll fetch it tomorrow' - definitely won't be back.
'I'm an artist. I couldn't buy someone else's work' - oh please, how dull your life must be.
'I can paint it myself' - Excuse me? Plagiarism?
'Do people actually buy this stuff? - Yes, actually.
'I'd rather die than buy that!' - Madam, guaranteed.
It's not that I mind if someone doesn't like what I produce; after all, I can only do what I am capable of, but to pretend to like it and feel obliged to make some kind of promise to return and buy it is really unnecessary. If people didn't have different tastes, there would be no need for more than one artist in the world, and the last thing I would want was to have my paintings on a wall that doesn't want them.
I like to think that it gave them a sense of encouraging me not to give up hope!
And what happened to the studio? For every thing there is a season, and I moved on to a new pasture to let that field recover for a few years. But the grass is growing again.
'
Some of the comments became so hackneyed that I felt I should write them down and after all this time, I have found a use for the notes I made, which I came across today while scratching through some papers. I would love to share them with you, together with my interpretation:
'I'll buy it when I win the Lotto' - I won't hold my breath, it's never going to happen.
'I'll bring my husband/wife to see it' - there is no money in the bank.
'My husband will love it!' - highly unlikely. He'll peep round the corner and retreat before I notice him.
'I'll fetch it tomorrow' - definitely won't be back.
'I'm an artist. I couldn't buy someone else's work' - oh please, how dull your life must be.
'I can paint it myself' - Excuse me? Plagiarism?
'Do people actually buy this stuff? - Yes, actually.
'I'd rather die than buy that!' - Madam, guaranteed.
It's not that I mind if someone doesn't like what I produce; after all, I can only do what I am capable of, but to pretend to like it and feel obliged to make some kind of promise to return and buy it is really unnecessary. If people didn't have different tastes, there would be no need for more than one artist in the world, and the last thing I would want was to have my paintings on a wall that doesn't want them.
I like to think that it gave them a sense of encouraging me not to give up hope!
And what happened to the studio? For every thing there is a season, and I moved on to a new pasture to let that field recover for a few years. But the grass is growing again.
'
Friday, 17 May 2013
A Clovelly Childhood #8
When we were young, the plots in Clovelly were very large and had only one house on them. Today they are all subdivided and the housing is quite dense, usually four where there was previously one. A number of gardens had mountain streams running through them and the owners landscaped the surrounds so beautifully that they were worthy of inclusion in any gardening magazine around the world. In those days, it was all done by the lady of the house with the help of an able-bodied gardener to do the rock work and other heavy lifting - these ladies would be our landscapers of today.
Being on the slopes of the mountain meant that most of the roads were fairly steep and because there were relatively few houses and hardly ever any cars on the lower roads, we used them as our playground for rollerskating, go-karting and skateboarding. We would take turns on the go-kart, a roughly built affair - basically a plank with four wheels and a rope - while the rest of us would sit in the gutter bashing away at pinenuts which we had gathered from the cones under a nearby copse of stone pines, to get to the tasty, nutty kernel inside.
I think I only went on the go-kart once, because it was my bad luck that a car happened to come round the corner as I was on the way down and I swerved into the kerb to take evasive action. I parted company with the plank and ended up sliding across the tar, taking a large chunk off my knee. I can still remember how painful it was and how long it took to heal. The scar is with me to this day, along with many others which are reminders of our carefree youth.
Those were the days, my friend; we thought they'd never end...
Being on the slopes of the mountain meant that most of the roads were fairly steep and because there were relatively few houses and hardly ever any cars on the lower roads, we used them as our playground for rollerskating, go-karting and skateboarding. We would take turns on the go-kart, a roughly built affair - basically a plank with four wheels and a rope - while the rest of us would sit in the gutter bashing away at pinenuts which we had gathered from the cones under a nearby copse of stone pines, to get to the tasty, nutty kernel inside.
I think I only went on the go-kart once, because it was my bad luck that a car happened to come round the corner as I was on the way down and I swerved into the kerb to take evasive action. I parted company with the plank and ended up sliding across the tar, taking a large chunk off my knee. I can still remember how painful it was and how long it took to heal. The scar is with me to this day, along with many others which are reminders of our carefree youth.
Those were the days, my friend; we thought they'd never end...
Thursday, 16 May 2013
Saying goodbye to a loved one and hello to others
Today we bade goodbye to a family member who succumbed to cancer after 4 long years of suffering. At last she is at peace and her husband and children will now be relieved of the pain of seeing her fade away before their eyes. It is no platitude to say that she is in a better place. There is no doubt of that. And family and friends will rally round to help the bereft come to terms with that.
On Sunday we will be celebrating Dad's 85th birthday - we have been so fortunate that he has survived both heart operation (triple bypass) and cancer (caught early) and that we sisters and our mother spend a lot of time together - sometimes the five of us are all in the same car, just as when we were kids.
At that lunch we will be joined by our cousin who is the first of the next generation to undergo bypass surgery and celebrate his successful and speedy recovery. It seems that we have a tendency in the family to carry something in our blood called Lipoprotein A which makes you more susceptible to heart disease and which has no effective treatment, apart from following a healthy lifestyle. Some of us are already on that track and the rest are going to have to either buckle down or accept the risk.
Perhaps I won't be such a voice in the wilderness now!
On Sunday we will be celebrating Dad's 85th birthday - we have been so fortunate that he has survived both heart operation (triple bypass) and cancer (caught early) and that we sisters and our mother spend a lot of time together - sometimes the five of us are all in the same car, just as when we were kids.
At that lunch we will be joined by our cousin who is the first of the next generation to undergo bypass surgery and celebrate his successful and speedy recovery. It seems that we have a tendency in the family to carry something in our blood called Lipoprotein A which makes you more susceptible to heart disease and which has no effective treatment, apart from following a healthy lifestyle. Some of us are already on that track and the rest are going to have to either buckle down or accept the risk.
Perhaps I won't be such a voice in the wilderness now!
Wednesday, 15 May 2013
Surprising service
My daughter's car has been making a noise like a V8 without an exhaust and she is too embarrassed to drive it, so today I just bit the bullet and headed off for the nearest exhaust shop to hear the bad news. I was prepared for the worst - new silencer, tailpipe, bit in the middle, front silencer, etc. I drove the car onto the lift with some trepidation, expecting a quote of at least R1 000 and maybe more. Leaving the engine running and the car filling the workshop with fumes, I climbed out so they could jack the lift up, then went underneath for a look. I always like to make it seem as though I know what I am looking for and understand what I'm being told, even if I don't!
What a welcome surprise! The exhaust pipes had become separated, hence the deafening noise and lack of power, and there was only a small hole in the middle pipe. They pushed the pipes together, welded them in place and welded the hole closed. Total cost: R180! Such service is rare these days and they really made no attempt to sell me a new exhaust, so they will continue to get my business. While I was there, they also made a quick job of repairing a puncture in a new-looking tyre on a 4x4 and that man was also looking pretty pleased.
Another interesting bit of information regarding service delivery: my daughter complained to the City of Cape Town yesterday that there was a loose manhole cover in the road nearby that knocked every time a vehicle drove over it and it was keeping her awake at night! Lo and behold, they arrived this morning to find it and fix it. Who would have thought they had the resources to attend to a rattling manhole cover. The alternative, if there had been no response, would have been to pinch the cover, sell it for scrap metal and wait for the Council to replace it! I believe that they are being replaced with some kind of plastic anyway as manhole cover theft is rife among those who prefer a life of crime and general antisocial behaviour.
So there are two good news stories in one day! Perhaps there is hope after all.
Tuesday, 14 May 2013
Views from my balcony and surrounds
What started off as a slightly chilly morning has developed into another glorious day in Kommetjie. The Southeaster is keeping the False Bay coast cool and flattening the sea on our side. This feature enabled me to spot a very unusual sight through the gap between the trees - a fully rigged sailing ship gliding gracefully past. I rushed inside to grab my camera and unfortunately it is not expensive enough to take good zoom shots, but I did the best I could as it slid out of view. The next time I looked, amazingly enough, it was passing through an even tinier window of opportunity among the milkwood trees - I just love synchronicity!
May has brought us spectacular sunrises, sunsets and assorted cloud conditions, so there is never a dull moment as long as you keep looking skywards! Here are some more of my favourite clouds:
 |
| Better view from Fish Hoek! |
 |
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| This is the other tiny gap I can see the sea through. |
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| Light rain hanging from the clouds at dawn |
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| Dawn light on clouds looking south |
Monday, 13 May 2013
A riot of rugs!
At last I have taken my Persian rugs out of storage in the garage! They were packed away about seven years ago after my cats became unhousetrained due to advanced age and I have lived with bare wooden floors since then. It seems that it may now be safe to put them where they belong, on the floor, and they look beautiful. I bought six of them at an auction for about R9 000 some years ago, and I have come to the conclusion that even if they were of any value, they are carpets and are meant to be used, no matter what mishaps may befall them. In fact, I can enjoy them even more because I don't have to be concerned about them being ruined. I reckon they will last 100 years if other people's are anything to go by, so a thing of beauty really is a joy forever, so my house is now a riot of rugs!
The same thing goes for the Royal Doulton tea service. Use it as your everyday tea cups, not those awful pottery mugs that cost R4 at the flea market. Enjoy your tea from fine bone china and if it breaks, the world will not end and the sun will rise the next day. There is no better way to live a fine life than to drink your tea from a cup that you can read a book through. You can also drink it pretty much straight from the teapot, although I've never found out why you can drink tea hotter from bone china than a mug. However, tea and china come from China, so there must be a correlation.
A good way to drink your tea without a care in the world is in a teacup that is one of a kind. The old china shop in Kalk Bay has hundreds of tea sets that they will sell as individual cups and saucers. where you can find matching pieces for an existing tea set or start your own collection of unmatched teacups as has become all the rage. Throw out those display cabinets and dust off the silver! Use and enjoy the beautiful household items you have. You can't take them with you.
The same thing goes for the Royal Doulton tea service. Use it as your everyday tea cups, not those awful pottery mugs that cost R4 at the flea market. Enjoy your tea from fine bone china and if it breaks, the world will not end and the sun will rise the next day. There is no better way to live a fine life than to drink your tea from a cup that you can read a book through. You can also drink it pretty much straight from the teapot, although I've never found out why you can drink tea hotter from bone china than a mug. However, tea and china come from China, so there must be a correlation.
A good way to drink your tea without a care in the world is in a teacup that is one of a kind. The old china shop in Kalk Bay has hundreds of tea sets that they will sell as individual cups and saucers. where you can find matching pieces for an existing tea set or start your own collection of unmatched teacups as has become all the rage. Throw out those display cabinets and dust off the silver! Use and enjoy the beautiful household items you have. You can't take them with you.
Sunday, 12 May 2013
Putting it in writing
Everybody seems to be writing a book. We all have a story to tell, whether it is a memoir, a story that we dreamt one night, something that we thought of since school days or just wanting to share your thoughts on life with the world. With the advent of self-publishing and e-books, anyone can now be published and not depend on the whim of a publishing house, who have been known to make major decision blunders in the past by rejecting authors who works have gone on to be regarded as classics of literature or just plain bestsellers with no literary merit whatsoever. Be that as it may, the important thing is that there is now a platform for those who wish to make their voices heard and we may have the opportunity to discover new and talented authors in our midst. Although you may never achieve bestselling status, your success will be in having actually done what you wanted to - become an author.
The best way to do this is to begin with good old-fashioned pen and paper. The act of writing by hand somehow draws the words out from the heart and it is widely regarded as being cathartic to release feelings of distress and anxiety through writing them down and then burning the paper. This is particularly beneficial if done every day, first thing in the morning while the anxieties that have kept you awake are fresh in your mind. Many of you will be familiar with this - it's known as doing your morning pages - and even if you don't have any worries, you can fill two pages with any thoughts that come to mind and then burn them, in readiness for a fresh start every day.
If you are one of those who dreams of being an author, don't let anyone discourage you. Believe in your own ability and be true to yourself. Don't slog it out according to some established formula or plan - you don't need to write like a Mills & Boon novel; you must just ensure that your grammar, spelling and punctuation are up to scratch. Whatever you have to say, let it come out the way you think it. That is your real voice, and it may be the one the world is waiting for.
And with that, it's back to work...
The best way to do this is to begin with good old-fashioned pen and paper. The act of writing by hand somehow draws the words out from the heart and it is widely regarded as being cathartic to release feelings of distress and anxiety through writing them down and then burning the paper. This is particularly beneficial if done every day, first thing in the morning while the anxieties that have kept you awake are fresh in your mind. Many of you will be familiar with this - it's known as doing your morning pages - and even if you don't have any worries, you can fill two pages with any thoughts that come to mind and then burn them, in readiness for a fresh start every day.
If you are one of those who dreams of being an author, don't let anyone discourage you. Believe in your own ability and be true to yourself. Don't slog it out according to some established formula or plan - you don't need to write like a Mills & Boon novel; you must just ensure that your grammar, spelling and punctuation are up to scratch. Whatever you have to say, let it come out the way you think it. That is your real voice, and it may be the one the world is waiting for.
And with that, it's back to work...
Saturday, 11 May 2013
Perfect peace
The tiniest sliver of an orange moon has just slid into the millpond sea at the end of a perfect and windless day in Kommetjie. It started with an early morning walk with the dogs down to the lighthouse and along the boardwalk. We weren't the only early birds - photographers were down on the rocks capturing the first sunlight on the waves, with the lighthouse still in the shadow of the mountain, and further along, a wetsuit-clad man (didn't have a surfboard, so perhaps he was going to do a little illicit diving) was contemplating the rise and fall of the swells at Outer Kom, peaking in neat rows about thirty feet across, while the rest of the sea was a pond.
Autumn brings with it a fine mist that hangs over the water in the early morning, masking the shoreline and leaving the mountains of the Peninsula looming in silhouette before the dawn. No clouds marred the cerulean sky and even the birds seemed to be having a late start. We didn't see a single oystercatcher; just a handful of gulls pecking among the seaweed.
And now, as the moon disappears, the vast band of the Milky Way soars across the zenith, providing starlight to see by for those wandering a lonely country road far from the city lights. We who prefer the comforts of modern living pay the price of not being able to appreciate the beauty of the night sky to its fullest extent.
I think a road trip beckons.
Autumn brings with it a fine mist that hangs over the water in the early morning, masking the shoreline and leaving the mountains of the Peninsula looming in silhouette before the dawn. No clouds marred the cerulean sky and even the birds seemed to be having a late start. We didn't see a single oystercatcher; just a handful of gulls pecking among the seaweed.
And now, as the moon disappears, the vast band of the Milky Way soars across the zenith, providing starlight to see by for those wandering a lonely country road far from the city lights. We who prefer the comforts of modern living pay the price of not being able to appreciate the beauty of the night sky to its fullest extent.
I think a road trip beckons.
Friday, 10 May 2013
Relentless Rafa!
At his recent appearance at Grandwest Casino, my favourite stand-up comic, Michael McIntyre, called Rafael Nadal an animal - an ANIMAAAL!! He was very funny and had it to a T, but I still felt peeved that he called him that. But on reflection, it wasn't an insult. He is relentless when he goes in for the kill. That was demonstrated today, during the quarterfinals of the Madrid Open against David Ferrer, himself a bit of an animaaaal as he prowled the back line like a caged tiger.
For the first two sets, Ferrer looked to be the better player and there is no doubt that he is at the top of his game, but Rafa made many errors and if he had lost, it would have been because he lost to himself. He fought for his life in both sets which were punctuated by moments of brilliance that we have come to expect from him. Ferrer made fewer mistakes and was looking to be a deserved winner. Things were getting tense at one set all and supper has been delayed, as tennis must come first!
When Rafa took his place for the third set, you could sense that he had adjusted his mind and he would be relentless in his comeback. And he was. It was as though he had sucked all the energy out of Ferrer, which was a pity as we were treated to tennis of the highest calibre. Ferrer didn't manage to win a single game in the third set, despite Rafa being hit in the eye by his own racquet and having to wash his face with bottled water (sneaking in a quick swig at the same time), and it was all over in no time.
I just love tennis season!
For the first two sets, Ferrer looked to be the better player and there is no doubt that he is at the top of his game, but Rafa made many errors and if he had lost, it would have been because he lost to himself. He fought for his life in both sets which were punctuated by moments of brilliance that we have come to expect from him. Ferrer made fewer mistakes and was looking to be a deserved winner. Things were getting tense at one set all and supper has been delayed, as tennis must come first!
When Rafa took his place for the third set, you could sense that he had adjusted his mind and he would be relentless in his comeback. And he was. It was as though he had sucked all the energy out of Ferrer, which was a pity as we were treated to tennis of the highest calibre. Ferrer didn't manage to win a single game in the third set, despite Rafa being hit in the eye by his own racquet and having to wash his face with bottled water (sneaking in a quick swig at the same time), and it was all over in no time.
I just love tennis season!
Thursday, 9 May 2013
Quiet day in the garden
Our family had the usual Saturday morning breakfast at Ellie's Deli in Noordhoek last week. You can relax there in a variety of surroundings to suit all tastes and ages and we rather enjoy sitting at a large dining table inside - reminds us of when we were children, I suppose, except it's not round. After we had feasted on prandial delights, we browsed at the nursery, where something is always bound to catch the eye and fill one with enthusiasm for gardening.
I was amazed to see bokbaai vygies in punnets, almost on the point of flowering. I thought we planted them at the beginning of spring and we haven't yet got to winter, but the horticultural assistant assured me that they start flowering in June. So I have planted them in sunny spots and can't wait to see what happens. Perhaps if I plant every two weeks I will have continuous displays of nature's jewels. Last year they bloomed well into October which was a real bonus.
The freesia bulbs have started shooting up and I will have to buy some more, as the porcupine took care of most of them last year. They will all go into pots on the balcony - not even a porcupine can climb up there.
A little rain and sunshine has persuaded me to try the vegetable patch again, and I have put in some potatoes and radishes, and spinach will follow, as well as brussels sprouts. If the baboons and porcupines get at them again, then I will plant roses instead and just buy my veggies from Woolies!
The garden birds are busy stocking up on food for the coming winter. They love to pick on the lawn after it has been freshly raked, as it seems to encourage bugs and worms to come to the surface, where they are easy targets for a variety of Little Brown Jobs. Their cheerful chirruping is possibly a call to their friends to fly in for a feast and it's always a good idea to grow plants that birds and bees find attractive to ensure a plentiful supply of winged wildlife. I have enough of the four-legged variety at the moment.
Today the south easter is keeping us cool while the sun sparkles on the cold Atlantic a short way from my home. Large breakers are crashing ashore, but the offshore wind blows the sound out to sea and so it is quiet and very peaceful on Kommetjie today.
I was amazed to see bokbaai vygies in punnets, almost on the point of flowering. I thought we planted them at the beginning of spring and we haven't yet got to winter, but the horticultural assistant assured me that they start flowering in June. So I have planted them in sunny spots and can't wait to see what happens. Perhaps if I plant every two weeks I will have continuous displays of nature's jewels. Last year they bloomed well into October which was a real bonus.
The freesia bulbs have started shooting up and I will have to buy some more, as the porcupine took care of most of them last year. They will all go into pots on the balcony - not even a porcupine can climb up there.
A little rain and sunshine has persuaded me to try the vegetable patch again, and I have put in some potatoes and radishes, and spinach will follow, as well as brussels sprouts. If the baboons and porcupines get at them again, then I will plant roses instead and just buy my veggies from Woolies!
The garden birds are busy stocking up on food for the coming winter. They love to pick on the lawn after it has been freshly raked, as it seems to encourage bugs and worms to come to the surface, where they are easy targets for a variety of Little Brown Jobs. Their cheerful chirruping is possibly a call to their friends to fly in for a feast and it's always a good idea to grow plants that birds and bees find attractive to ensure a plentiful supply of winged wildlife. I have enough of the four-legged variety at the moment.
Today the south easter is keeping us cool while the sun sparkles on the cold Atlantic a short way from my home. Large breakers are crashing ashore, but the offshore wind blows the sound out to sea and so it is quiet and very peaceful on Kommetjie today.
Wednesday, 8 May 2013
The bugs are back!
I've been drinking green juice for 10 days now as part of my healthy diet, consisting mainly of cucumber, spinach, celery. apple or pear coriander, parsley and lemon. I got my first cold in years, have a slight headache, am feeling rather tired and somewhat bad-tempered, so I was aware that the toxins were fighting it out inside my body. The trouble is, that's where they have stayed, so I'm basically poisoning myself as my liver is unable to cope with the elimination. The live blood shows a sorry state of affairs, with wrigglers all over the place, huge acid crystals, dark patches from lack of oxygen, white blood cells on high alert and red blood cells all strung together instead of free-floating. Hasn't looked this bad in a long, long time.
So it's back to chicken breast and rice, with leafy greens, medical food shakes, probiotics, anti-parasite med and colon support therapy. It's fixed me up every time but it's really a bind and not cheap. In three weeks' time I expect to feel on top of the world again and a few kilos lighter, as the toxins are currently being stored in fat, so the sooner I get rid of them, the better.
Farewell cappuccino, hello black rooibos. And I can still drink the green juice with the medical food shake, which will dolly them both up somewhat.
Seems like the harder I try, the more difficult it gets. But at least it's all very treatable, so I shouldn't complain. C'est la vie!
So it's back to chicken breast and rice, with leafy greens, medical food shakes, probiotics, anti-parasite med and colon support therapy. It's fixed me up every time but it's really a bind and not cheap. In three weeks' time I expect to feel on top of the world again and a few kilos lighter, as the toxins are currently being stored in fat, so the sooner I get rid of them, the better.
Farewell cappuccino, hello black rooibos. And I can still drink the green juice with the medical food shake, which will dolly them both up somewhat.
Seems like the harder I try, the more difficult it gets. But at least it's all very treatable, so I shouldn't complain. C'est la vie!
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
Flying finish!
Some years ago we spent a weekend at a friend's farm near Tulbagh. I was (obviously) much younger then and had fond memories of my teenage horseriding years, and we were easily persuaded to go on a outride across the countryside on the farm horses. I made it quite clear that I wanted a placid, obedient horse, as I was not particularly fit and hadn't been in the saddle for 20 years or so. I was assured that my mount was so docile as to be almost asleep and that I might have trouble keeping it going.
All went well as we ambled along, with a little trot from time to time, although I noticed that my horse wanted to be right behind the leader. Hooves clip-clopped gently on the stony track, with the horses occasionally pausing to grab a quick bite to eat. The ground looked particularly hard, with no soft sand to break a fall, but as things were pretty quiet, we enjoyed the majestic mountain scenery and kept our mouths firmly closed against invasion by the endless swarms of tiny midges that surrounded us. But then it was time to turn for home.
I might be forgiven for thinking that someone had inserted a lit firecracker up my horse's rear end, as it changed character the instant I pulled the reins to turn it around. We took off as though it was the start of the Durban July Handicap, with the only handicap being that the horse had a rider! Hooves thundered along the ground, sparks flying off the rocks as we belted for home, nose in the wind and fast overtaking the rest of the field. Not being the smooth grass of a racetrack, the horse stumbled several times, narrowly missing a connection of its nose with the track, and if I hadn't had years of training on how to hold on with my legs, I would have been cartwheeled into the veld. This horse had a homing instinct that a racing pigeon would envy and he was going to be first across the finishing line, riderless if need be.
There was absolutely nothing I could do to rein him in. He must have had a mouth like concrete, or else had been trained to go faster as you gathered the reins. I doubt whether I portrayed the smooth style of a championship jockey, but I stayed on until the finish line outside his stable due only to fear of falling off and knocking my teeth out. I was determined that was not going to happen.
The stable boys pretended surprise and amazement to learn of my steed's uncharacteristic return trip, but I strongly suspect they anticipated and enjoyed it in direct contrast to my experience!
All went well as we ambled along, with a little trot from time to time, although I noticed that my horse wanted to be right behind the leader. Hooves clip-clopped gently on the stony track, with the horses occasionally pausing to grab a quick bite to eat. The ground looked particularly hard, with no soft sand to break a fall, but as things were pretty quiet, we enjoyed the majestic mountain scenery and kept our mouths firmly closed against invasion by the endless swarms of tiny midges that surrounded us. But then it was time to turn for home.
I might be forgiven for thinking that someone had inserted a lit firecracker up my horse's rear end, as it changed character the instant I pulled the reins to turn it around. We took off as though it was the start of the Durban July Handicap, with the only handicap being that the horse had a rider! Hooves thundered along the ground, sparks flying off the rocks as we belted for home, nose in the wind and fast overtaking the rest of the field. Not being the smooth grass of a racetrack, the horse stumbled several times, narrowly missing a connection of its nose with the track, and if I hadn't had years of training on how to hold on with my legs, I would have been cartwheeled into the veld. This horse had a homing instinct that a racing pigeon would envy and he was going to be first across the finishing line, riderless if need be.
There was absolutely nothing I could do to rein him in. He must have had a mouth like concrete, or else had been trained to go faster as you gathered the reins. I doubt whether I portrayed the smooth style of a championship jockey, but I stayed on until the finish line outside his stable due only to fear of falling off and knocking my teeth out. I was determined that was not going to happen.
The stable boys pretended surprise and amazement to learn of my steed's uncharacteristic return trip, but I strongly suspect they anticipated and enjoyed it in direct contrast to my experience!
Monday, 6 May 2013
Enjoying the company of old friends
We are still basking in autumn splendour here in Cape Town. Cool mornings make way for clear and windless afternoons, ideal for whiling away the time in idle conversation with old school friends. At least that must be how it appeared to all the people who I knew that were at the same restaurant! They were snatching a bite to eat in between business appointments or rushing off to the airport to catch a plane to LA. But I see all conversation as information gathering on the path of Life.
I love to hear how the people I was at school with have made their way through life, their achievements or not, successes and failures, happy times and sad, for this is what life is about - living. If we don't have these opposite poles, we are unable to appreciate the good times when they are there, or be able to empathise with those who have had less fortunate lives, unless we talk about it.
While we were sitting enjoying a simple but excellent lunch and catching up, a number of friends came up and hugged me and I was struck by how privileged I was to know such warm and giving people, being somewhat reticent myself and often, I think, not giving them the attention they deserve. But I prefer one-on-one conversations rather than a crowd all at once, as I find myself wanting to tune into everyone's conversation at once, and it is really hard to concentrate on what someone is saying when both ears are listening in to two other conversations, trying to remember what you want to say to each one later.
I think that is probably a good case for the saying, two heads are better than one!
I love to hear how the people I was at school with have made their way through life, their achievements or not, successes and failures, happy times and sad, for this is what life is about - living. If we don't have these opposite poles, we are unable to appreciate the good times when they are there, or be able to empathise with those who have had less fortunate lives, unless we talk about it.
While we were sitting enjoying a simple but excellent lunch and catching up, a number of friends came up and hugged me and I was struck by how privileged I was to know such warm and giving people, being somewhat reticent myself and often, I think, not giving them the attention they deserve. But I prefer one-on-one conversations rather than a crowd all at once, as I find myself wanting to tune into everyone's conversation at once, and it is really hard to concentrate on what someone is saying when both ears are listening in to two other conversations, trying to remember what you want to say to each one later.
I think that is probably a good case for the saying, two heads are better than one!
Sunday, 5 May 2013
Ripping us off
It's time we all took a stand against those who sell us shoddy goods, particularly in the food line. It seems that they think we are all suckers and will accept without complaining. Here are some of the tricks that have recently come my way, and yours too!
Anything on a special is likely to be either specially manufactured at a slightly inferior quality: toilet paper for instance. If you have fingers that are very sensitive to the micron level, you will know immediately that it is fractionally thinner and will be used quicker than the normal one you buy, although it is being sold under the same name at a reduced price so you think you are getting a real bargain.
Fresh foods are on the point of exceeding their expiry date; pockets of onions and potatoes will already have some beginning to rot, and you should open the bag and discard them as soon as you get them home.
Rotisserie chickens in the supermarkets are those that have reached their time limit and this is how they avoid wastage - in fact they should be sold at cost - in my humble opinion - as we are saving them the loss.
A friend recently bought a bag of very tiny oranges, which she was told were the first of the new season. She gave me half as she didn't feel she would eat them all, and when I tipped them out of the bag, two already had gone mouldy and the rest were shrivelled and soft as a deflated balloon. Obviously the first of last season, kept in cold storage. Needless to say, she took them straight back and was given a replacement without any quibbling.
I bought four extremely large red apples at the local fruit and veg adorers outlet, thinking I hadn't seen such big or appealing apples in years. I tested them for firmness and there was no resistance, although I did think they were remarkably light for their size. When I got them home and put them in a salad, they were floury, dry and had brown patches under the unmarked, perfect skins. Another cold-storage culprit - I should have known it was too early for them to have grown to that size.
Although I am tempted to switch retailers to that one that apparently can be trusted to provide quality, even they are known to fall short at times. I think that switching is not really the answer - consumer resistance could be much more effective and direct complaints to management should become the norm if we are to regain our voice and our choice to buy the foods we want, not the foods they are trying to get rid of. Perhaps if they sold them cheaper the year before, we would buy more and they wouldn't have to keep them to dish up out of season.
Perhaps seasonal eating is what we should be following.
Anything on a special is likely to be either specially manufactured at a slightly inferior quality: toilet paper for instance. If you have fingers that are very sensitive to the micron level, you will know immediately that it is fractionally thinner and will be used quicker than the normal one you buy, although it is being sold under the same name at a reduced price so you think you are getting a real bargain.
Fresh foods are on the point of exceeding their expiry date; pockets of onions and potatoes will already have some beginning to rot, and you should open the bag and discard them as soon as you get them home.
Rotisserie chickens in the supermarkets are those that have reached their time limit and this is how they avoid wastage - in fact they should be sold at cost - in my humble opinion - as we are saving them the loss.
A friend recently bought a bag of very tiny oranges, which she was told were the first of the new season. She gave me half as she didn't feel she would eat them all, and when I tipped them out of the bag, two already had gone mouldy and the rest were shrivelled and soft as a deflated balloon. Obviously the first of last season, kept in cold storage. Needless to say, she took them straight back and was given a replacement without any quibbling.
I bought four extremely large red apples at the local fruit and veg adorers outlet, thinking I hadn't seen such big or appealing apples in years. I tested them for firmness and there was no resistance, although I did think they were remarkably light for their size. When I got them home and put them in a salad, they were floury, dry and had brown patches under the unmarked, perfect skins. Another cold-storage culprit - I should have known it was too early for them to have grown to that size.
Although I am tempted to switch retailers to that one that apparently can be trusted to provide quality, even they are known to fall short at times. I think that switching is not really the answer - consumer resistance could be much more effective and direct complaints to management should become the norm if we are to regain our voice and our choice to buy the foods we want, not the foods they are trying to get rid of. Perhaps if they sold them cheaper the year before, we would buy more and they wouldn't have to keep them to dish up out of season.
Perhaps seasonal eating is what we should be following.
Saturday, 4 May 2013
Relaxing times with family and friends
Lazy day today - brunch with Mom, Dad and Alison at Ellie's Deli in Noordhoek, discussing matters of great import (the state of the family's arteries). Then bought some organic lettuce plants - 6 varieties - from Heritage stock which is old-fashioned, non-commercial seeds which are becoming available again as more and more people are looking to buy nutritious foods that they can grow at home. (This is all linked to the state of the family's arteries.)
Then off to visit my good friends, the Eatwells, who have opened their studio to the public and you may now go there and view their latest offerings and, if you are lucky, find either Eric or Lynne in the studio, working on a masterpiece. The sun shone on the convivial crowd who gathered to enjoy Mags' famous hospitality and admire the art, and I noticed a number of red stickers - always good news. To say that these two young artists have only got better over the years since I have known them is an understatement - they were always exceptionally talented, but somehow they are still honing their skills and producing world-class work while remaining appreciative of the talents they were born with and displaying none of the self-aggrandisement that can sometimes accompany success. It will be well worth your while to go and have a look.
Later on we relaxed over a piece of steak and boerewors on the braai, listening to the stories of a seafaring friend who has just returned from an extended trip as an observer on a Japanese fishing vessel, bobbing around somewhere near the Equator for a few months. And then the sun set and we were reminded that the warm evenings of summer are long gone, and it was time to go back inside into the cosiness of our little wooden house by the sea.
Such simple pleasures!
Then off to visit my good friends, the Eatwells, who have opened their studio to the public and you may now go there and view their latest offerings and, if you are lucky, find either Eric or Lynne in the studio, working on a masterpiece. The sun shone on the convivial crowd who gathered to enjoy Mags' famous hospitality and admire the art, and I noticed a number of red stickers - always good news. To say that these two young artists have only got better over the years since I have known them is an understatement - they were always exceptionally talented, but somehow they are still honing their skills and producing world-class work while remaining appreciative of the talents they were born with and displaying none of the self-aggrandisement that can sometimes accompany success. It will be well worth your while to go and have a look.
Later on we relaxed over a piece of steak and boerewors on the braai, listening to the stories of a seafaring friend who has just returned from an extended trip as an observer on a Japanese fishing vessel, bobbing around somewhere near the Equator for a few months. And then the sun set and we were reminded that the warm evenings of summer are long gone, and it was time to go back inside into the cosiness of our little wooden house by the sea.
Such simple pleasures!
Friday, 3 May 2013
A musing...
Sitting at my favourite coffee shop in the mall, watching the people going by. There is the biggest assortment of people you could wish to see here - from smartly dressed older women (the pearl set) all the way down to the baggy-bottomed tracksuit pants and even some barefoot! If you ever want to see the diversity of the human form, this is the place to see it. There seem to be an inordinately large number of people with disabilities, or maybe it is because this mall is disabled-friendly and they can get about easily. Whatever it may be, there is plenty of opportunity to reflect on how fortunate we are to have all our faculties, health and basic human body.
Why should we be grateful? Because we have taught ourselves to believe that those who don't look or think the way we do are not as good as us, that ours is the way to be. But perhaps we should look at it from a different perspective. Perhaps those who are 'different' are not aware of their difference until it is pointed out to them or when they are looked upon as being 'less able'. One can certainly understand why offers of assistance are generally rejected, as the disabled try to show us that they are not any less able or useful than the rest of us.
I believe that those who are born 'different' are here to show us how to be humble, how to accept others for who and what they are, how to be grateful that we are able to make our way through life without ridicule or avoidance by those who do not know how to deal with someone who is different. In many cases, those with a disability are an example to the able-bodied of what can be achieved, and perhaps they develop other aspects of themselves far beyond the limits we set for ourselves.
Let us all be determined to accept the unity of the human race, demonstrated in diversity, with the knowledge that we all come from the same place and will all go back there one day.
Why should we be grateful? Because we have taught ourselves to believe that those who don't look or think the way we do are not as good as us, that ours is the way to be. But perhaps we should look at it from a different perspective. Perhaps those who are 'different' are not aware of their difference until it is pointed out to them or when they are looked upon as being 'less able'. One can certainly understand why offers of assistance are generally rejected, as the disabled try to show us that they are not any less able or useful than the rest of us.
I believe that those who are born 'different' are here to show us how to be humble, how to accept others for who and what they are, how to be grateful that we are able to make our way through life without ridicule or avoidance by those who do not know how to deal with someone who is different. In many cases, those with a disability are an example to the able-bodied of what can be achieved, and perhaps they develop other aspects of themselves far beyond the limits we set for ourselves.
Let us all be determined to accept the unity of the human race, demonstrated in diversity, with the knowledge that we all come from the same place and will all go back there one day.
Thursday, 2 May 2013
Doing a recce before travelling
I'm working on a short book about our travels in Spain and Paris last year. Looking through our diaries and the photographs makes me want to do it all again. It is only once you have been somewhere that you realise how much better prepared you should have been, and yet you really need to go there on a reconnaissance holiday to suss the place out first before you know what you are dealing with.
In Spain, I would have taken a travel kettle and mug with plenty of coffee, tea and milk sachets, as well as energy bars so that I could get sustenance at any time of the day or night without looking for a restaurant. I would have studied a guide book for every single place we went to, including a detailed road map, as the GPS is unreliable at times, and I prefer to have a picture of the map in my head - having a photographic memory makes this easy. I would have gone onto Google and hopefully found every type of road sign including road markings so that I would know what I was supposed to be doing and where I could park.
I would have ensured that all accommodation was on the ground floor or at worst, the first floor, as there is often no lift and never anyone to carry your luggage. I would have taken only two pairs of shoes, one already on my feet - they take up so much room in a suitcase. Definitely wouldn't take a laptop again - no need as you can access a computer just about anywhere. I would have brushed up on my Spanish far more diligently.
In Paris, I would have spent longer than a week! I must say that second time round it was easier to identify where you wanted to go and not be too concerned with being a tourist, more relaxed and spending more time just observing the rest of the world go about its business. So the third time will be even better.
All things considered, I think we did pretty well for first-timers and have a good idea of what pitfalls to avoid for next time. I hope it won't be too far in the future!
In Spain, I would have taken a travel kettle and mug with plenty of coffee, tea and milk sachets, as well as energy bars so that I could get sustenance at any time of the day or night without looking for a restaurant. I would have studied a guide book for every single place we went to, including a detailed road map, as the GPS is unreliable at times, and I prefer to have a picture of the map in my head - having a photographic memory makes this easy. I would have gone onto Google and hopefully found every type of road sign including road markings so that I would know what I was supposed to be doing and where I could park.
I would have ensured that all accommodation was on the ground floor or at worst, the first floor, as there is often no lift and never anyone to carry your luggage. I would have taken only two pairs of shoes, one already on my feet - they take up so much room in a suitcase. Definitely wouldn't take a laptop again - no need as you can access a computer just about anywhere. I would have brushed up on my Spanish far more diligently.
In Paris, I would have spent longer than a week! I must say that second time round it was easier to identify where you wanted to go and not be too concerned with being a tourist, more relaxed and spending more time just observing the rest of the world go about its business. So the third time will be even better.
All things considered, I think we did pretty well for first-timers and have a good idea of what pitfalls to avoid for next time. I hope it won't be too far in the future!
 |
| Started raining in Paris, no umbrella, so told M&D to stand in the phone boxes! |
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| Standing in a queue for fruit and vegetables at the market! |
Wednesday, 1 May 2013
May Day or mayday - the choice is yours
It's another public holiday today - Workers' Day. Now there's a misnomer for a country that, according to international statistics, is one of the least productive in the world, and frequently beset by union-encouraged strikes with the express intention of making the economy worse than it already is. The mind boggles at the lack of understanding displayed in these matters. Of course, it is all an orchestration to ensure that the 'workers' remain enslaved to those who are living off the proceeds of all the membership fees they gather. If the workers would realise that they don't need organisations to get a better deal and kept their fees for themselves, they would already have the better deal. And someone should explain to them that wages are linked to productivity and quality.
However, enough of that - we who are not part of the 'workers' as defined by obsolete socio-economic ideals will continue to try to eke out a living by providing the work sought by the workers, despite not being allowed to employ the best person for the job and being financially punished by the draconian labour laws which in fact do nothing to encourage any form of entrepreneurship or employment opportunities. A note to the workers: many of your 'bosses' would love to be employed by you so that they can take home a regular income without having to worry where it is coming from!
Anyway, as I am not a worker, being self-employed and therefore the boss, I am unable to enjoy a rest on Workers' Day, and must clean my house as usual, weed the garden, write another chapter of a book, plan and cook dinner and pay the bills that are due today.
Oh, for the carefree and responsibility-free life of a worker!
However, enough of that - we who are not part of the 'workers' as defined by obsolete socio-economic ideals will continue to try to eke out a living by providing the work sought by the workers, despite not being allowed to employ the best person for the job and being financially punished by the draconian labour laws which in fact do nothing to encourage any form of entrepreneurship or employment opportunities. A note to the workers: many of your 'bosses' would love to be employed by you so that they can take home a regular income without having to worry where it is coming from!
Anyway, as I am not a worker, being self-employed and therefore the boss, I am unable to enjoy a rest on Workers' Day, and must clean my house as usual, weed the garden, write another chapter of a book, plan and cook dinner and pay the bills that are due today.
Oh, for the carefree and responsibility-free life of a worker!
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