The unkindest cut of all

Mango Kitty and Mr Bigglesworth went for the dreaded chop today.

I had to deprive them of all food from 10pm last night, and of course they decided not to eat anything after 5pm, so this morning they were starving and searched everywhere for their food bowls, which were safely stowed away, together with the dogs' bowls. They also weren't let out of the door at 6am, and a lot of sulking went on until 8.30, when I cruelly caged them and headed for the vet. They complained the whole way there, sometimes in unison - a kind of cat's chorus, a requiem to their reproductiveness. I could tell I was in bad odour.

Having filled in pages of forms absolving the vet from any liability in case of mishap, and pointing out that Biggles was not a dog as indicated on the form, I waved them bravely farewell as they disappeared into the nether regions of the surgery and immediately set off for a restorative cappuccino with Mother and Father.

Within a few hours I was informed that the operations had proceeded well and I could collect my kitties. This time there wasn't a peep from either of them as they cuddled together on a pink blanket in the cat box, somewhat subdued. After a large slice of my credit card limit was axed, I was free to leave, with instructions to keep them quiet for a day or so. Of course, little Mango, being a lady, had the disfiguring major invasive surgery (on her side for some reason), while Biggles got off lightly as men always do, with a snip or two. He doesn't even know what's happened.

The instant they got home, it was time for a quick snack of chopped chicken and then out of the door and into the garden, where they disappeared for the next four hours, doubtless sulking in seclusion somewhere. Eventually they relented and came back inside so that I could stroke and say nice things about them. Mango is not pleased about her stitches but is happy that her fur will cover the scar soon, and Biggles remains king of his castle, despite being not quite the man he used to be.

More time out with old friends

Another lazy, hazy winter dazy in Cape Town. How long can this Indian summer last? Tourists are out in force, knowing that winter always has sunshiny days between the rain that more than rival our summer - mainly because that infernal southeasterly wind is not howling!

An old friend (not so much of the old, I hear her say) and family joined me for breakfast at the local nursery and we spent the entire morning, not so much reminiscing on days gone by, but updating on where we are, our views on life, and generally having a good laugh. We need much more of that.

Getting home just about lunch time, I had no inclination to be indoors and so did the unthinkable - got out the rake and started sweeping up the leaves on the bricks - something He Who Can Fix Anything is totally obsessed about to the point of pedantry. And would you believe it, he turns up at home to fetch something for work - out of the blue - lucky I wasn't lying on the couch watching Dragons' Den! All I can say is, I certainly earned my Brownie points today! Probably enough to give me a good 3 weeks' leave of absence in the near future.

As he was closing the sliding gate, the little Jack Russell from next door ran into the garden and he and Monty instantly became the best of friends and had a play date for an hour or two. The neighbours appeared to be out, so he wasn't too interested in going home. After I eventually let him out again, Monty disappeared and I found him lying under the lemon tree. I immediately thought he was dead, as he has never done such a thing, and I rushed over and picked him up. It turns out, I think, that he was simply overcome by exhaustion and excitement at having such a young companion to play with, coupled with immense disappointment that the games were over. It took him a long while before he could run around again, but all seems well now, thank goodness. Imagine having to explain that one to HWCFA!

The sun has now set on this hazy day, either due to smoke, smog or dust blowing in from the Karoo with the easterly wind. The forecast was for clouds, but our weather is so changeable at the moment, it's best to just look out of the window from time to time. Enjoy a few pictures of a summery day.

Stepping out

As part of my 'parking off' week, I was treated to a massage to smooth out the knots in my back and shoulder muscles from too much time at the computer. Boy, did it hurt! But it has to hurt to be healed, and although I feel as though I have been hit by a bus, over the next few days all will be relieved.

To aid in my recovery, I uncharacteristically did some retail therapy at Constantia Village, a few notches up from the local mall. Having discussed with a friend that I either dress for the red carpet or a homeless person and not much in between, it seems as though I definitely need to add a few select items to the wardrobe, starting with the feet. How easy it is to slop around in trainers (albeit Hotters) rather than heels - if your feet hurt, you cannot possibly be cheerful - but some outfits just don't cut it. I had in mind ankle boots with a bit of a heel as this would allow me to take a few pairs of pants out of the back of the wardrobe to see the light of day in some style.

Being the world's most reluctant shopper, imagine my delight as the very first pair of boots I laid eyes on was: 1. My size 2. Hand made genuine leather. 3. Half price! Barely managing to contain my excitement, I stuffed my certain type of precious metal card in my pocket (I had been walking to the ATM to draw cash for cappuccino) and shot into the shop, doing the deal without delay. I didn't use the card for the purchase, and when I eventually stood at the ATM, I turned my pockets inside out, my bag inside out, the carrier with the boots inside out. A friendly Italian woman told me she always stays calm when she can't find her card and goes through everything - at least I didn't feel it was only me! I scuttled back to the shoe shop and found nothing but was told to go to Info in case it had been handed in. On the way there, my phone rang. It was the bank letting me know the card had been handed in. Three things: 1. Right shopping centre. 2. Always have your phone. 3. Great service.

After all that excitement, I had my usual Short Latte at the Seattle Coffee Company, who have been consistently excellent over 15 years or so, but this time fell far short of my expectations, so it's on to pastures new. All in all, a successful day, with multiple satisfaction in the personal arena.

What a perfect day!

A perfect start to a perfect day - the sacred ibis flock flew not 30 feet over my head as I stood outside on the deck at 7.30. As I watched them go over, I silently asked them not to poop on my head and they held it all in, thank goodness! A scattering of pink cloud was chased by the morning sun and a vast canopy of blue has been with us all day. Even the car guards at the local mall were excited by the weather!

A gentle shore break at the Kom brought some liveliness to an otherwise placid sea. We can still expect the worst of winter in August, but already the daisies are pushing up new leaves along the grassy verges and the dunes of the shoreline. My freesias are in bud and the bokbaai vygies have grown into sturdy seedlings in pots all over the garden. Before we have blinked, Spring will be bursting forth in massive displays of white petals, followed by yellow and then purple bringing up the rear.

The aloes are not yet past their best, with some species only flowering now, and the first of the clivias has brightened a dark corner of the garden. A sunbird chirped at the top of a branch today, nesting material in its tiny beak, and a cisticola was not far behind. High against the blue sky, a flock of 30 or so swallows swooped and dived, catching some early bugs. But a sure harbinger of spring was the southeaster, which spread a fine lace cap over the summit of Chapman's Peak, while the precipitous cliffs glowed in rusty shades as the sun sank gently into the sea, bringing this perfect day to a perfect end.

Home sweet home

When we built our house 32 years ago, the economy was such that we could only afford a wooden house - although it was always an attractive proposition, the cost was the deciding factor. It was only a few years later that people began using cladding rather than wooden panels, which are a maintenance nightmare, perhaps coupled with the fact that they do rather resemble an OTT dog kennel. However, the advantages of a wooden house far outweigh the disadvantages, in my mind.

Advantages:
1. You can always hear exactly what is happening anywhere in the building.
2. If either of my children needed me for something, they would just knock on their bedroom wall and I would report for duty.
3. A floorboard always creaked if someone sneaked home in the early hours.
4. HWCFA can bang on the garage ceiling when he needs me to: bring coffee and biscuits for his friends, help him bleed the brakes, change a gearbox, let him know what exactly it is I am doing upstairs, rearrange the order of the cars in the garage and a host of other important and fulfilling duties. The scale of urgency is relative to the loudness of the knocking. Not for nothing is his official nickname Richter.
5. After all these years, I can identify every noise, from a cat jumping off the kitchen counter to a branch sweeping against the roof. A bird roosting in the eves sounds just like a rat scuttling in the ceiling.
6. It is warm in winter and cool in summer. We don't need a heater. The fireplace has been removed because it never gets cold enough to use it.
7. Its rusticity makes you feel as though you are on holiday.
8. Any time you want to make a change, you just take out a panel and rearrange everything.

Disadvantages:
Maintenance, maintenance, maintenance. That's about it.

There's no doubt that it is still my structure of choice, but perhaps a lovely Cape Cod-style duck-egg blue next time.

Nostalgia

Having a lazy weekend for a change. Did the gearbox last weekend, no 'official' work right now, and weather perfect for reading and listening to music from the late 60s and early 70s (my teenage era). It just takes a nudge on Facebook and soon everyone is posting their favourites via YouTube. Not being much of an internet surfer, I always forget that just about any song is at our fingertips, and you only have to remember a few of the words to find it. Songs that I have forgotten about pop up on the right-hand side of the screen and in no time at all it's a trip down memory lane, to those long, hot summers of our youth - beach, discos, the odd nightclub. Safe and pretty innocent stuff and a whole lot of fun in those days.

Today we pass by the boys we had a crush on 45 years ago and wonder if we look as bad now as they do, or find that our children were at school with theirs. It's really a very small world out there and somehow there is always a link to our past. Some don't want to remember it, mainly because they don't want their children to know what rebels they were, although in hindsight there was nothing serious, at least not in comparison to what goes on today, just young people doing what young people have always done.

It's quite difficult to really comprehend how many years have gone by since the 70s and I know for a fact that everybody still listens to the same music in between today's - somehow you can really sing it and a road trip always comes to mind. We are now scattered across the globe, yet technology has enabled us to reconnect and carry on with yesteryear's conversations as if we had never left off.

Nothing like a bit of nostalgia on a rainy day...

Blue horizon

A fiercely cold wind shrieks through the nooks and crannies, bringing icy polar air across the South Atlantic to the south-western tip of Africa. Gigantic swells rippling unhindered for thousands of miles smash against the granite base of the Cape Peninsula, a natural breakwater preserving this little finger of land from certain destruction.

The gun-metal grey sea heaves and bucks like a thousand rodeo broncos, manes flashing white as the wind tosses them this way and that. Brooding clouds blanket the mountains, racing up their flanks and cascading down the other side in a waterfall-like flow. Trees bend and break, leaves blow as chaff before the wind.

Suddenly, on the horizon, white puffy clouds reflect early morning sunlight and in an instant the mood lifts. Patches of blue sky break through the cloud ceiling, turning the sea a dark bottle green. The wind still soughs through the branches, but bright sunshine will soon bring succour from the storm.

Evening stroll

What a wonderful place I live in! A friend and I took an evening stroll along the walkway at the bay, and everyone we met was friendly and chatty, because we see each other regularly on these walks. But there were strangers we had to pass between as they conversed at the side of the path and we even managed to throw in a few sentences as we did so! It was a bit like a gathering of old friends as we made our way towards the Kom, where a small flock of flamingos were doing a soft shoe shuffle and grumbling away as they had an evening meal There was a great deal of squabbling going on, with one particularly aggressive bird chasing another with long neck stretched out straight as ruler as it pecked at the retreating rear end.

As you can see, the sea is once more like a pond, with only the slightest swell welling up at the Outer Kom and no other perceptible movement. A gigantic unladen tanker hove into view as it heads towards Cape Town - made me wonder why these vessels travel empty; it must play havoc with the bottom line.

The sun is moving south quite noticeably now and setting just a little later every day. Signs of spring abound, with Kommetjie's famous white daisies beginning to show a face or two, despite another month of winter to come. The freesias are in bud, and new leaves are shooting everywhere, as the last wave of late-blooming aloes burst forth along the pavements. Kommetjie must have one of the largest collections of aloes in Cape Town, giving us colour throughout the cold months in every shade, from palest yellow to deep red. They make a spectacular display en masse.

And so the end of another day. Sleep well.

To write, perchance to dream

How awful to come to the end of a beautiful day in Kommetjie and find that you have missed it! The need for us to confine ourselves to endless hours of working in front of a computer screen must surely be one of the worst outcomes of progress and civilisation. Not that I'm ungrateful for the tremendous privilege of being able to actually work from home, but you need so much more discipline to do so, something I am completely lacking.

There is nothing I would rather do than lie on the lawn looking at the clouds going by, or on a rock down by the sea and just let my thoughts wander. If you do that for extended periods, you will find all kinds of ideas pitching up in your mind. Creativity is only possible if you allow yourself to daydream and shut out the noise of technology and listen to the sounds of nature. It takes about a month of determined relaxation before the wheels start to turn and the pen starts to move across the page, or the brush sweeps the canvas.

I haven't had such an opportunity for more than a year and I'm really missing just doing my heart's desire. That to me is the ultimate luxury. To write. Just a pen and paper and inspiring surroundings. Perhaps three months in Paris? Sigh.

Just ask

As the sun sets on another quiet day in Kommetjie, we can reflect on the state of the world and collectively apply our minds to a sense of the brotherhood of man prevailing in the end, for what we imagine, will become reality. That really is what it's all about. Negative expectations bring a negative result. We just have to picture a better outcome for it to manifest into our reality.

The sunbird pecking at a last aphid on the hibiscus before settling for the night in the sheltering branches anticipates that tomorrow will bring another flower with nectar and aphids for it to eat. The chickens next door scratching for bugs never give a thought to whether it will be the last one they ever see. The sacred ibis winging their way overhead expect the tree they roost in to still be there tonight and that they will fly this way again tomorrow.

We need to only expect the best. At the moment, everything you see and hear is of death and disaster, and it takes a truly superhuman effort to see past that and look for the good in others. But we all have superhuman capabilities if we just believe in ourselves and the help that is always on hand from our loving Father, in all his representations. We have but to ask.

A little caring in a care less world

It all started with a thought. A thought that went through the mind of a woman who seems to have endless capacity for caring about others. I posted on Facebook early this morning about gratitude and making a short list every morning of what you are grateful for. In reply, she said she was lying in her warm bed and wondering what could be done to help those with nothing. As a caterer, naturally her thoughts turned to making food for them, and suddenly a movement was afoot to donate ingredients for the big pots of soup she was going to make. A few of us did the necessary, but Patsy and friends did the real hard work and later in the day, some of the neediest people in the area were treated to hot, healthy homemade meat and vegetable soup to ward off the worst of the day's hunger and cold.

None of this was motivated by a call to action around the world to honour Mandela's birthday. It was a spontaneous and heartfelt call to action by a group of people who are always on the lookout for ways to be of service to others. And their reward was in their ability to be of service to others.

Although it was just a meal, and it isn't possible to do it regularly or on any kind of scale, those people will probably remember today as a day when somebody cared about them.

A typical winter's day

It's been about 8 months since my little dog Susie became blind and I have to take her downstairs and into the back garden where the lawn is first thing every morning and last thing at night. It gives an ideal opportunity to view the state of the weather at 6am, which up until today has either been fine or cloudy, but never once has it been raining. This morning it looked pretty miserable from inside, peering through rain-splashed windows at the sodden deck and trees bending in the wind. Yet when I actually got outside, there was no rain and in such close proximity to the house, little wind. As sunrise approached, the rain had set in, but when dawn broke and it was time to take my Good Morning from Cape Town picture, the blue sky was showing over the sea and the rain had abated again.

This was obviously only for my convenience, once again, and soon the rain began to fall, while I took up my position in front of the computer for another fun day of business. Gradually the sky lightened and by 10.30 the call of cappuccino was strong, and I also needed cheese for tonight's lasagne. Not wanting to take a chance walking the 200m or less up to the local shops, I drove up to find the outside seating area of Espresso Dotkom deserted for obvious reasons. I settled down at a comfortable seat inside where I had a view of outside and it wasn't long before the heavens opened and the rain slashed down at a 45 degree angle, giving the car a good washing down and a bit of a seat wash due to the partially open window.

By the time I had finished writing my next speech for Toastmasters (I would hate anyone to think I was just lolling around), all was clear again and beautiful puffy clouds punctuated blue sky out seawards. This has continued for the rest of the day - slashing rain, blue sky and sunshine, slashing rain - and sunset brought a magnificent interaction between cloud, sea and sun, as so often happens at this time of year.

I just love these dramatic interludes of winter, accompanied by mountainous seas crashing shoreward, providing the ideal backdrop for a good night's sleep.

The arrogance of ignorance

There is no excuse in these times of Google at your fingertips to be uninformed on any subject known to man. Misinformed and disinformed, maybe, but definitely not uninformed. There is a plethora of people who have information to be imparted and shared with the world at large, and it is easy and free to get it out there. The difficult part is to lead people to that information.

Those who seek information will eventually find it, but the majority of the world's population resides in a comfort zone of being told what to know, rather than going to the inconvenience of finding out for themselves. Mental apathy appears to be the new disease.

We should be constantly questioning what we are told, looking at both sides of every story, digging for the truth. Instead our youth follow the inane utterances and pathetically shallow lifestyles of so-called celebrities, and aspire to be like them. There are some celebrities who can be celebrated, it must be acknowledged, for being outspoken about meaningful issues and concern for the less fortunate, but there is no doubt that more people know who Kim Kardashian is than Mother Theresa (a comparison put out on Facebook, and aptly so).

Those who do question and reject the mainstream version, who are widely read and constantly seeking, have to bear the brunt of a society that has been led to believe that the version of history, ancient and current, and our origins are the unassailable truth, and are dismissed as being less than suitable to converse with, and just completely wrong. So many people who have so much to share hold back simply through fear of losing their jobs, their friends, their credibility and even their family, such is the ostracism of 'normal' society. And yet it is those 'normal' people who have the most to fear: the loss of their idea of what is real and what life is really all about. That must be why they are so adamant that they don't want to hear a single word against what they believe in.

The trouble is, perhaps it is just what the world needs.

Beautiful winter's day

It's been a magnificent day in Kommetjie. The sea is mirror-like, with the sun glittering off the wakes of the fishing boats going to and fro. A small pod of humpback whales seems to have taken up residence off the island, and every day I watch them flapping their tails and smacking them down on the water amid great splashing and plumes of spray. The lack of wind has been a treat, but tomorrow will be bringing another taste of winter storms and snow, they say. Seems hard to believe as the cloudless sky darkens in the west, crepuscular rays adorning the horizon in a last defiant blaze of orange, melting into dusk.

The sacred ibis have just passed overhead, and strangely, no other bird has called this evening. I have a feeling they are avoiding the kitties, who are now showing a very hunter-like interest in anything that moves in a tree.

The first picture is of Biggles in fine form just prior to his falling off the balcony. I heard the desperate scrabbling and looked out to see Mango peering over the edge to see whether her brother was alright. Of course I rushed down to see, and I think his pride is injured, as he scuttled up a tree and is sitting sulking there in the dark.

 This picture is of Mango reigning supreme on the railing (taken with a flash as it's dark now), waiting for Biggles to come back inside. That is where he fell from. Lucky it wasn't the dog.

Growing up fast!

Mango and Biggles are settling into teenagehood quite well now. After their initial excitement at being allowed out into the world, they are now happy to spend a large part of the day quite close to me and keep coming back inside as if reporting that all is well. Sometimes they lie on the steps in the sun, as all good kitties should.

Yesterday, they both climbed up the telephone pole in the corner of the garden and sat on the exchange box (I suppose you would call it?), but had no trouble jumping down when that became boring. They even seem to have stopped chasing the chickens next door, and I haven't heard them on the roof again. I think perhaps their bravery frightened them a little.

All the toys we bought them are still being used and they love to chase little ping pong balls filled with catnip, or jump up at feathers attached to a string. But the best toy is the big cardboard box I have in the corner of the dining room. The whole living area is littered with kitty accoutrements, so all semblance of order has gone to the dogs (?), but I like it like that. It makes for a comfortable and happy coexistence for all of us.

The best thing about these two little kitties is that they are so affectionate and love to talk. Particularly Biggles, who is constantly asking questions in a rumbling sort of growl, while Mango gives a more ladylike mew. Biggles gets bigger by the day and shows every sign of becoming a large cat, who will take up a lot of space on the bed one day. Monty has become quite attached to Mango, but still tends to lunge at Biggles in a show of male on male aggression, but maybe that will stop once Biggles gets the chop!

In the meantime, they are making wonderful cuddly companions for us all!

Think about it

Those who would rule the world must surely be laughing at their current overwhelming success. By staging a sporting event every four years they have a constant tool for creating a huge diversion to take the focus off really important and life-threatening events around the world, and at the same time make millions of people miserable when their team loses. The organisers pocket a fortune while the people continue to pay for the spectacle for the next how many decades? If people were as upset about lives being destroyed as they are about the results of a sporting event, the world might look very different. We are being set up to abdicate all sense of empathy. How can mankind have allowed itself to reach this place? We really are at the nadir of our civilisation.

Teenage kitties

Mango and Biggles have reached their teenage years. They want to be out till all hours, sleep all day and chase birds at every opportunity.

This morning they were outside before dawn and it was just getting light when I heard a herd of elephants charging across the roof. Thinking that it might be hadedas or Egyptian geese, I went out onto the deck and stood on a rather insubstantial plastic chair (you all have one of those). I saw nothing as I peered over the edge of the gutter and so called, like the Crazy Cat Woman, "Bigggglesss!" Sure enough, a sleek black shape hove into view and leaned over to let me know it was him. He wasn't coming down anytime soon, and it was a matter of minutes before Mango, who had been having her breakfast munchies, shot outside into the back garden and shinned up the big Brazilian Pepper tree and onto the roof.

They proceeded to chase each other around the rooftop like a couple of hooligans and I left them to it, in the hopes that they would get bored and come down the tree again in search of food. About half an hour later all was quiet on the roof - at least we can be sure that no more pigeons will be breeding under the eaves! - and they were up the buddleia again. This time the thin branches couldn't cope and Biggles landed with a splash in the fountain below - I think the expression 'like a shot cat' would fit how quickly he removed himself from the water - and charged around in the undergrowth to dry off.

A long silence made us suspicious and K went outside to locate the terrible twins. Their adventures had extended to the neighbour's garden where chickens forage all day (there's also a rooster who starts up at 6am and probably will align his crowing with the dawn as we approach summer). Now that they have discovered a new place with exciting birds to chase, there's no knowing what they'll get up to next. They may have been a little intimidated, because they came jumping back over the fence as soon as we called, but once they are fully grown, who knows?

They have been asleep inside since 10.30 this morning after all that exercise, which doesn't bode well for a quiet night.

A few of my favourite things

We are constantly exhorted to think of things we are grateful for and make a list to remind us when we are feeling a little dispirited. It is said that an attitude of gratitude brings good things, and there is no doubt that is true. Count your blessings and you will feel your spirits lift; if you worry about things, you will feel the cloud of gloom hanging over you. It is through the little things that we can gain the greatest joy in life:

I can think of hundreds of things that make me happy, but here are just a few:

Watching the sun set - somehow, even on the cloudiest of days, a small gap appears on the horizon at just the right time.

Seeing the Black Sparrowhawk alight on a branch of the dead tree nearby, which allows the best possible view of this magnificent raptor.

The panicked scattering of pigeons who have spotted the sparrowhawk and fly so incredibly fast and skilfully as they thwart its hunt.

A flock of 50 flamingos flying past in the early morning sunshine on the way to their feeding grounds.

The disciplined v-formation of the sacred ibis that fly over my house twice a day, the quiet swish of their flight the only sound at dawn.

The crashing of the waves at the Kom when the Atlantic swell is pushing in from the deep southern ocean.

The amazing clouds that scud across the sky, melting away and reappearing at will.

These things are happening all around me as I write this. Imagine how long I could go on for - this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Don't look for big things to be grateful for - appreciate whatever you are surrounded by and you cannot fail to feel lighthearted.

Abandoning fear and living life

The problems of the world cannot be solved by treating the symptoms or trying to control the outcomes through legislation. The only way is to go back to the beginning before the human race was overtaken by the false notions of separateness and superiority. Leaving aside all mention of our freedom having been hijacked by outsiders (there, I snuck that in), we need to recover our ability to live from the heart and not from our base instinct of fear.

It is apparent that those who are currently the cause of suffering in the world (we cannot call them leaders, as they have simply usurped those positions) are incapable of feeling empathy. Without this important human attribute, they are unable to feel remorse for the evil that they perpetrate or have any understanding that they lack empathy. So it is useless to even attempt to appeal to their better nature as it doesn't exist.

The only way to fight war and hatred is through promotion of peace and love (don't get confused with the romantic interpretation). Love for your fellow man means respecting and recognising that we are all part of the whole and that our diversity is caused by what we are taught to believe. It is allowing everyone to be themselves without judgment or insisting that they follow your way.

Everything has been manipulated to ensure subservience to fear: fear of not having enough to eat, fear of dying, fear of not being right, fear of not having money, fear of not owning a piece of land, fear of being inferior, fear of looking different, fear of thinking for ourselves. But no one fears having too much which others have too little.

What if it didn't matter if you gave up all fear? The good news is, it doesn't. Stop fearing and take back your ability to be you. How can there be any cause for conflict if there is enough for everyone? Live from your heart, the seat of the soul.

There is nothing truer than 'you can't take it with you'. All you will take when you shuffle off this mortal coil will be the level of enlightenment of your soul. If you don't believe this, or care about it, it doesn't matter either. Better luck next time.

Not quite up a gumtree

Mango Kitty and Mr Bigglesworth just love climbing trees! I don't know what they would do without each other. The two of them charge around the garden, up and down trees, dash inside just to let us know they are still around, then dash back downstairs and straight up another tree. Fortunately they are so active that the birds keep a healthy distance, although they are still too young to actually have the skill to catch one - that will come later, along with a bell on an elastic, I think.

Today we were standing on the balcony and noticed that the buddleia was swaying and there was no wind. We looked down and there were the silly kitties, right at the top. The thickest branch on the buddleia is about 1.5cm and they are by now a sturdy 3kgs. Biggles has a habit of chewing on the twigs of every tree he climbs, which was rather worrying when he was up the oleander, but he survived that unscathed, perhaps not actually breaking the surface, and he was testing his teeth on the buddleia as he swayed to and fro.

Mango and Biggles with the fountain waiting for them underneath

Biggles on top of the tree

Mango precariously perched above the fountain

They were directly over the fountain which is currently full of very cold water, and we waited anxiously for the splash and shriek as they fell out of the tree, but they were far too clever to fall! And when they had tired of playing there, they just slithered down and ran off to the next tree, which had much thicker branches.

Sunday sunset

With snow sprinkled over the high ground and the rest of Cape Town washed clean by the rains, the world has taken on a magical quality of intense clarity, with everything seeming magnified in its beauty through the pristine air, the clouds and mountains painted in the finest colours of nature.

In a matter of hours, the rain clouds gave way to puffy pillows, the sun gleaming off the thunderheads, and the sea smoothed to a glassy finish, soon populated by vessels of all sizes scudding up and down the coast. A spectacular cloud formation perfectly positioned to capture the setting sun brought everyone who has a camera down to the sea front, and despite the icy temperatures, a couple of intrepid children who didn't care if they were wet and doubtless didn't notice the cold, frolicked in the Kom with their small dog, bringing activity into an otherwise peaceful late Sunday sunset scene.

A passing storm brings icy weather

Yesterday started off sunny as predicted, but by mid-morning it was clear that the severe cold front that had been predicted to hit us by 4pm was on the way. An impressive vanguard of low cloud swept in from the west and the wind increased its speed steadily until, as forecast, it reached almost galeforce and the first heavy rain slashed across the Peninsula.

And then, almost as suddenly as it started, it waned to a gentle, steady rain and the wind all but disappeared. From time to time, the rain became heavier, but didn't last. This heralded the swing of wind direction to south west, which brings in the freezing Antarctic air across the South Atlantic, and the temperature fell dramatically. The best thing to do was have an early night and hope that today would dawn sunny and clear.




 Despite strong winds and flooding across the Peninsula and snow on the high-lying areas, Kommetjie was by no means battered by the storm, as it seems to have its own little micro climate, no doubt because it isn't affected by the mountain chain which runs from Cape Town to Cape Point.

The sea was a deep green and the white breakers were worthy of a detergent advert as the sun bounced and sparkled off the heaving swells. A fishing boat, apparently wanting to be first at the fishing grounds, disappeared from view as it plunged into the troughs, then rose like a cork to teeter over the crest of the next swell.

An afternoon walk along the beachfront was both freezing and invigorating, as snow fell on Table Mountain during the day and much of the rain that fell turned to hail as it crossed the Peninsula.

But as you can see, we don't go long without seeing the sun, even in the most wintry of weather!

Plunged into darkness

The electricity metre is in such an awkward place that although I thought about checking it a number of times yesterday, I didn't get around to it. Outside, it was cold and pitch dark with no moon, but I put on the outside lights so that K didn't have to come home to darkness. She's paranoid about darkness, despite the fact that whatever it is she thinks is there at night is also there during the day.

I was in a deep sleep when I was woken with a torch in my face. "Mom! There's no electricity!" Well, of course, we'd run out, hadn't we? What an inopportune time - just after midnight on the stormiest night of the year. While my mind resisted letting go of sleep, I struggled to think what to do about it. I couldn't buy it online because the ADSL doesn't work without electricity. There was nothing for it but for K to go to the local garage and buy some (lucky it's open 24 hours). So back outside she goes in the pitch dark, taking the torch with her, while I remain semi-comatose in my warm bed. Next thing the phone rings. Aarrgghh! She's taken the wrong card. Now I have to get up and look for an old slip to give her the number. No torch. Back to bedroom to find glasses and cellphone for light.

The light from the cellphone is too dim to read and I'm battling to get my eyes to focus even with glasses on. The only other torch I can think of is the 500 000 candle-power torch that shines from here to the top of the mountain. Well, that illuminated the piece of paper nicely! If I'd been properly awake I would have been able to remember all the other sources of light we have strategically placed in the house.

Five minutes later she is back and the code is punched in. Hurrah! Cup of tea, warm up supper in the microwave, back to bed. Then lie awake for three hours. Ah well.

You might wonder why we went to all this trouble in the middle of the night. The thought of a cold shower in the morning was just too horrendous!

A strange and stormy day

It's been a very strange day, which I can only put down to the weather. I started off quite normally with getting up at 6 to give HWCFA his breakfast and take the dogs outside (you will remember I have to carry Susie as she is blind and can't negotiate 13 steps any more). Every day I take them out into the very dark back garden at 6am, and the most notable aspect of this daily routine is that not once in the last 6 or more months has it been raining at the particular time I have to go outside. A quite remarkable statistic, I think, and one for which I am extremely grateful.

Given today's stormy weather, which is rapidly turning to icy with forecast snow nearby, I don't think I'm going to enjoy tomorrow's early morning outing! If only someone would invent a litter tray for old doggies!

By mid-afternoon, my brain had tired of editing Maths Literacy and I packed up for the day, just as the rain became so heavy that the DStv signal was lost. Just when I was ready to be a couch potato! There was nothing for it but do dig out the DVDs.  Now I'm rather partial to watching the same old favourites over and over and today I was in the mood for the Sound of Music. I have been threatening my kids for years that I am going to make them sit on the couch with me and watch it from beginning to end, but somehow it's never happened. I can only say it is their loss and I hope they do watch it one day in their dotage. It holds a special place in my heart. Julie Andrews will always be my favourite singer/actress.

And now I am watching the Wimbledon Gentlemen's Doubles Invitational for the old guys. What a match! What fun and skill and warmth they have displayed: Henri Leconte (how can he be so old?) and the other three who I have to confess to never having heard of. A bit of light relief after the stressful competitiveness of today's top players. Anyone who is watching I am sure will agree that it has been the highlight of the last two weeks' play!

All in all, a strangely disjointed day, punctuated by kitties chasing each other all over the furniture and doggies constantly scratching at the door wanting to either go in or out. Somehow they weren't put off by the rain although I had to towel them dry every time they came back in.

It's your choice

Sometimes I just despair of the world. And in particular the fact that nobody really wants to hear what's fact and what's fiction. Everyone is too willing to accept the rubbish that is fed to us through the media, too quick to dismiss alternative thinking as 'woo woo', so happy to be one of those who can side with the majority and never question the textbooks, and worst of all, believe there is no possibility of their being wrong.

How can anyone look at the way people treat each other, animals, the earth and particularly themselves, and not realise that someone has made a serious mistake somewhere along the way?

Mankind has learned to live from a place of fear, based on materialism and fed by consumerism. It's not too late to change that. Live from the heart and the meaning of life will become clear. Open your mind through quieting it and allow the answers to be released from your consciousness, where all knowing dwells.

Unless of course, you don't want to. The choice is yours.

A walk on Chapman's Peak Drive

Funny how we do things we never normally would when we are showing someone around the area we live in.

Yesterday, my sisters and I took our young cousin, who now lives in the UK, on a drive round Chapman's Peak in some rather inclement weather. She is a newly qualified geologist and had some interesting stories to tell of her recent trip down some of South Africa's gold mines - fascinating stuff. I have always been interested in geology and pick up rocks wherever I go in the world, but somehow have never done the formal stuff. So it was great to be able to pick her brains, something I do whenever I come across a friendly geologist.

I now know which part of the landscape at the lighthouse is the wave-cut platform and where the tumbled rocks have come from. I know why there are seams of hard quartz running through the sandstone and why some boulders have pebbles in them. I finally understand how the beautiful layered striata of Chapman's Peak came about.

We parked the car in one of the lay-bys and actually crossed the road - normally we just drive around on our way to town or some other destination, and after all these years of travelling that road, I have now touched each layer and felt it crumble beneath my fingertips. No wonder the road was built on top of the granite layer and not this soft and disintegrating formation.

The wind was strong, blowing in from the north west, and the swells far down below were long and deep, smashing in a plume of white spray against the granite, as they have done for millenia. We took a walk down to the view site, for more buffeting from the wind, again something we would never contemplate on an ordinary day, but we were doing the tourist bit. We were well rewarded by the sight of a kestrel hovering nearby, unbothered by the wind as it hung motionless over its prey.

A group of young people climbed through the railing and clambered down the slope to a promontory, completely ignoring the sign that warned them not to. In the past, people have been blown off the mountain by the downforce of the wind, but they apparently knew better. We decided it was time to leave before disaster befell anyone.

The view is one we can never tire of, somehow.

The Grow-it-yourself dilemma

The boubou is singing from the boughs of the bougainvillea and the double-collared sunbird sips from the scarlet bottlebrush. But at my feet I survey the devastation caused by a visit from the guinea fowl. It has pecked away at every leaf on the peas I planted last week, and scratched away at the soil around the neat rows of onions waiting to establish themselves for the long growing period through winter. It is probably a partner in crime with the porcupine, who helped himself to my spinach a while back. That is growing back apace, but all can be whipped away in the night without warning. It's only a matter of time before the baboon troops return, although they are currently in limbo without the alpha males which have been 'culled' as a restraining measure - how foolish Man is to selfishly destroy anything that irks him.

Many of us want to make ourselves less reliant on the foods that are produced commercially by growing out own vegetables and fruits, and a great deal of time, money and effort goes into setting up a vegetable patch or orchard. We have to accept that the local wildlife is going to make inroads just when we think we are ahead, and for those of us who live in the urban fringe, there is very little that can be done to deter them. Obviously, killing them is no solution, and besides, it is not good for our journey here on Earth. Sturdy wire fencing (too thick for a porcupine to bite) is surely the only answer.

Perhaps I will try that.