2012 was a year of note. Michael & Marina were married in Marbella, a marvellous excuse for an extended meander through Spain and a week in Paris. Robert & Sara were married under the lighthouse in a field of daisies next to the sea on a perfect Spring day.
My parents survived another year. Three cats have been laid to rest under the lemon tree.
I got to work from home. He Who Can Fix Anything fixed all kinds of things and became Fine Car Champion for the second year in a row. Our cars are all paid for. We have food in the cupboard and hot water in the shower.
We are all healthy and employed. We live in a house by the sea in one of the most beautiful locations in the world. Birds abound in the garden, together with baboons and porcupines and the odd snake.
The Mayan calendar ended and the next cycle began. Those who thought the world would end were surprised and those who knew it wouldn't have yet to discover what's changed.
The bad things that happened have been cast to the wind as a sign of their insignificance, allowing only the good to remain.
2013 will be good to all of us as we welcome the new dawn of a new age on Earth, a new chance to change the way we see ourselves and each other. Enjoy the journey!
Monday, 31 December 2012
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Bicycles on the road
I find it strange that laws are being passed to allow people who practice their sport to do so on public roads to the detriment of the road taxpaying vehicle drivers. It has been decreed that you shall pass a cyclist at a minimum distance of 1.5metres to ensure that you don't knock him off his bicycle. For a start, does everyone know what 1.5metres is? Do we get to attach a 1.5 metre stick to our cars to ensure that the correct passing distance is adhered to? If we miscalculate and the stick knocks the cyclist, do we say, Ooops!?
By my reckoning, unless the cyclist is riding in the gutter, you will need to cross the white line to overtake, which will at times be illegal, and at most times, impossible due to oncoming traffic. As the cyclists seldom ride in the gutter, the conclusion is that motorists will now be obliged to bow to the superior claim to the road of cyclists. This is obviously untenable and, in a country where the rules of the road are understood only by a very small minority and adhered to by even less, and enforced to such an extent as to be practically unnoticeable, the likelihood of motorists caring less is exponentially proportionate. (And if any of you understand that, you'll be a better man than I!)
This all came about by the habit of cyclists to ride in convoys, two and sometimes even four abreast, with absolutely no regard for the traffic legally occupying the road. To hoot at a cyclist to politely indicate that he is holding you up will invite filthy language suitable only for bars and garages, lewd hand gestures and uncalled-for aggression at the next robot when they all catch up with you again. The insolence! The powers-that-be made much of the need for politeness and consideration for other road users, asking cyclists nicely to ensure that they never ride abreast, but this has fallen on deaf ears. But rather than make laws to enforce single-file cycling, they want to punish the motorist.
But the real point of the matter is: roads are for transport, not sport. If you want to cycle for sport, go to the velodrome. You do not belong on the road, despite your being erroneously led to think this. The average skateboarder, rollerblader or scooter rider has as much right to be on the road as a cyclist, and a reasonable man would agree that they would be endangering their lives to practice their sport in such a place. Today I witnessed a pair riding abreast and holding up a long line of traffic. The car tooted politely and the cyclist nearly dislocated his neck as he swung round to glare with absolute hatred at the poor lady driver and shouted invective for all to hear. He made no attempt whatsoever to pull into the gutter where he belonged.
If you are riding a bicycle that has no gears, no self-inflating tyres, mudguards, a little light in the front and you aren't wearing red lycra, it is safe to assume that you are using your bicycle as a mode of transport to get to work or some such admirable occupation. For you, sir, I will pass at 2 metres.
By my reckoning, unless the cyclist is riding in the gutter, you will need to cross the white line to overtake, which will at times be illegal, and at most times, impossible due to oncoming traffic. As the cyclists seldom ride in the gutter, the conclusion is that motorists will now be obliged to bow to the superior claim to the road of cyclists. This is obviously untenable and, in a country where the rules of the road are understood only by a very small minority and adhered to by even less, and enforced to such an extent as to be practically unnoticeable, the likelihood of motorists caring less is exponentially proportionate. (And if any of you understand that, you'll be a better man than I!)
This all came about by the habit of cyclists to ride in convoys, two and sometimes even four abreast, with absolutely no regard for the traffic legally occupying the road. To hoot at a cyclist to politely indicate that he is holding you up will invite filthy language suitable only for bars and garages, lewd hand gestures and uncalled-for aggression at the next robot when they all catch up with you again. The insolence! The powers-that-be made much of the need for politeness and consideration for other road users, asking cyclists nicely to ensure that they never ride abreast, but this has fallen on deaf ears. But rather than make laws to enforce single-file cycling, they want to punish the motorist.
But the real point of the matter is: roads are for transport, not sport. If you want to cycle for sport, go to the velodrome. You do not belong on the road, despite your being erroneously led to think this. The average skateboarder, rollerblader or scooter rider has as much right to be on the road as a cyclist, and a reasonable man would agree that they would be endangering their lives to practice their sport in such a place. Today I witnessed a pair riding abreast and holding up a long line of traffic. The car tooted politely and the cyclist nearly dislocated his neck as he swung round to glare with absolute hatred at the poor lady driver and shouted invective for all to hear. He made no attempt whatsoever to pull into the gutter where he belonged.
If you are riding a bicycle that has no gears, no self-inflating tyres, mudguards, a little light in the front and you aren't wearing red lycra, it is safe to assume that you are using your bicycle as a mode of transport to get to work or some such admirable occupation. For you, sir, I will pass at 2 metres.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
Not a beach day
It's almost wintry in Kommetjie today, with a blustery and cool northwester whipping vast manes of white spray off the wave crests. Perhaps the full moon has something to do with it, even though it is at its greatest distance from the Earth right now.
The ebbing tide has left the rocky shore draped in thick foam, like the leftover suds from a rather dirty load of laundry. No-one is crayfishing today, not even from the shore, as the sea conditions are too dangerous for small boats, and the shore break is too strong for diving. A group of men are making their way along the rocks under the lighthouse, but I doubt whether they will be taking anything home for the pot tonight.
After the heat of last week, the cooler weather is most welcome and we are at least able to keep the garden watered without it evaporating straight away.
As the afternoon high tide flows in, surfers are trying their luck on the lumpy waves, but no spectacular Outer Kom breaks are materialising and they will just have to make do with short rides. The wind will swing back to the south tomorrow and it will be even cooler for a while, but January and February are upon us and there will be many more days when the heat will prevent us from doing anything except lie under a tree and wait for the sun to set.
The ebbing tide has left the rocky shore draped in thick foam, like the leftover suds from a rather dirty load of laundry. No-one is crayfishing today, not even from the shore, as the sea conditions are too dangerous for small boats, and the shore break is too strong for diving. A group of men are making their way along the rocks under the lighthouse, but I doubt whether they will be taking anything home for the pot tonight.
After the heat of last week, the cooler weather is most welcome and we are at least able to keep the garden watered without it evaporating straight away.
As the afternoon high tide flows in, surfers are trying their luck on the lumpy waves, but no spectacular Outer Kom breaks are materialising and they will just have to make do with short rides. The wind will swing back to the south tomorrow and it will be even cooler for a while, but January and February are upon us and there will be many more days when the heat will prevent us from doing anything except lie under a tree and wait for the sun to set.
Friday, 28 December 2012
High tea at the Nellie again!
Another fun family gathering was held today at the Mount Nelson Hotel in Cape Town. M&M arrived from Zurich last night and to celebrate, we all went for high tea in colonial splendour at the pink palace. Whatever made them paint it that colour is beyond me. It's not even a pretty pink, and it appears that the colour matching changed in places, making it a little patchy overall. However, if you are inside, it's not so offensive, and the furnishings and ambience are perfect for the purpose of high tea. A lounge pianist tinkled the ivories in the background and old paintings of the Union-Castle liners brought back childhood memories of voyages to England and back in what were pretty basic ships compared to today's luxurious cruisers, but at the time were the most exciting adventure for us as children.
The tea menu is extensive, and my choice of Forest Fruits was so delicious I could stay off Ceylon forever. Multiple trips to the constantly replenished food table ensured that far too much was consumed and I fear that any weight I may have lost over the last week might have been reabsorbed into the body! But I was not the only one stuffing my face and bewailing the consequences - there were plates that warranted photographs at the table, and the super-slick service whisked away every empty dish so that the evidence was not there for all to see.
In the midst of all this feasting, a wedding was taking place with the ceremony in the gardens and celebratory drinks at the foot of the stairs from the terrace, and so we were treated to the sight of the beautiful bride wearing (according to Marina, who knows about these things!) Ellie Saab, a stunning dress, accompanied by two just as beautiful bridesmaids and about four other attendants ahead of her as she walked down to meet her husband-to-be, who turned out to be almost as beautiful as the bride. Rose petals by the bucketload were liberally scattered over the pair when they returned to the terrace and I took lots and lots of photos of a bunch of people I don't know because it seemed appropriate to record the happy occasion!
The tea menu is extensive, and my choice of Forest Fruits was so delicious I could stay off Ceylon forever. Multiple trips to the constantly replenished food table ensured that far too much was consumed and I fear that any weight I may have lost over the last week might have been reabsorbed into the body! But I was not the only one stuffing my face and bewailing the consequences - there were plates that warranted photographs at the table, and the super-slick service whisked away every empty dish so that the evidence was not there for all to see.
Thursday, 27 December 2012
New clothes at Christmas
Looking at an old home movie of a Christmas in Clovelly, I see myself at the age of about 15 in an outfit consisting of a top with hotpants underneath (about 1973) and can still remember how much I enjoyed wearing it. At least I can show my children that I had a hot figure once! My son looked at the movie and I pointed myself out and said, That's me and he said, It's in colour! Nice.
The outfit was made by my mother, as were all our clothes when we were young. Those were the days when there were no clothing chains for everyday wear and your fancy clothes came from Garlicks or Stuttafords or perhaps even Cleghorns! Jerseys were hand-knitted or crocheted, and we often made our own.
We were guaranteed never to appear in the same dress as anyone else and always had a new outfit for Christmas. I remember favourite dresses with a fondness most people assign to their old Teddy.
Being 3 girls separated by 3 years didn't allow much opportunity for hand-me-downs and anyway, we all had our own colour code - my clothes were pink, red or purple and my sisters' were blue and green. I think it made the laundry easy to sort for Mother, although we probably like to think that we had stamped our mark on our colours in a statement of individuality early in life.
She must be a very talented seamstress, because I don't remember ever having a wardrobe malfunction. These days, you are lucky to get a shirt home from the shop before the first button falls off.
We all learned to sew and received smart Swiss sewing machines for our 21st birthdays, and have turned out our fair share of successes, but it's been many years since they've been used now and I'm ashamed to say I haven't taught either of my children how to use it. It seems a pity that such basic skills are not being passed on.
The outfit was made by my mother, as were all our clothes when we were young. Those were the days when there were no clothing chains for everyday wear and your fancy clothes came from Garlicks or Stuttafords or perhaps even Cleghorns! Jerseys were hand-knitted or crocheted, and we often made our own.
We were guaranteed never to appear in the same dress as anyone else and always had a new outfit for Christmas. I remember favourite dresses with a fondness most people assign to their old Teddy.
Being 3 girls separated by 3 years didn't allow much opportunity for hand-me-downs and anyway, we all had our own colour code - my clothes were pink, red or purple and my sisters' were blue and green. I think it made the laundry easy to sort for Mother, although we probably like to think that we had stamped our mark on our colours in a statement of individuality early in life.
She must be a very talented seamstress, because I don't remember ever having a wardrobe malfunction. These days, you are lucky to get a shirt home from the shop before the first button falls off.
We all learned to sew and received smart Swiss sewing machines for our 21st birthdays, and have turned out our fair share of successes, but it's been many years since they've been used now and I'm ashamed to say I haven't taught either of my children how to use it. It seems a pity that such basic skills are not being passed on.
Wednesday, 26 December 2012
Idling along
Still laid low by Sunday's bug. Should never have eaten anything over the Christmas period. Am now living on Bulgarian yoghurt and fruit. I think my body is trying to tell me that meat is a thing of the past - the very thought of it makes me feel ill. Fancy weighing less after Christmas than before! Now there's a bonus.
It's a scorcher in Kommetjie today, with the promised westerly wind still awaited to cool us down. There is a pole on top of Slangkop mountain with a long pennant on it,which was put there many years ago (and renewed from time to time) by a local who likes to know the wind direction for hang-gliding and it's been very useful to us when there is any doubt on this subject. Today the pennant is hanging limp, a very unusual occurrence, and down here in my garden I keep pointing the hose to the sky and standing in the cool rain as gravity returns the jet of water to earth. Damp clothes certainly keep down the body heat as I potter around, pulling weeds and planting petunias. I don't know what it is that makes me garden in the heat of the day - perhaps the dryness of the soil enables me to pull weeds more easily!
Having a well and 4 separate well points has rejuvenated my garden beyond recognition - even the lawn is green, and the tough, indigenous buffalo grass is taking hold at last. The restios, which nearly all died in the drought last summer, are sprouting new shoots and looking as though they will return to their former glory, and the leucadendrons, proteas and serruria are apparently happy for the moment. If the water table can maintain itself to the end of March, we should be alright, and the first rains always arrive at Easter.
So it's a fairly restful day. The only thing that can disturb it would be the untimely arrival of baboons...
It's a scorcher in Kommetjie today, with the promised westerly wind still awaited to cool us down. There is a pole on top of Slangkop mountain with a long pennant on it,which was put there many years ago (and renewed from time to time) by a local who likes to know the wind direction for hang-gliding and it's been very useful to us when there is any doubt on this subject. Today the pennant is hanging limp, a very unusual occurrence, and down here in my garden I keep pointing the hose to the sky and standing in the cool rain as gravity returns the jet of water to earth. Damp clothes certainly keep down the body heat as I potter around, pulling weeds and planting petunias. I don't know what it is that makes me garden in the heat of the day - perhaps the dryness of the soil enables me to pull weeds more easily!
Having a well and 4 separate well points has rejuvenated my garden beyond recognition - even the lawn is green, and the tough, indigenous buffalo grass is taking hold at last. The restios, which nearly all died in the drought last summer, are sprouting new shoots and looking as though they will return to their former glory, and the leucadendrons, proteas and serruria are apparently happy for the moment. If the water table can maintain itself to the end of March, we should be alright, and the first rains always arrive at Easter.
So it's a fairly restful day. The only thing that can disturb it would be the untimely arrival of baboons...
Tuesday, 25 December 2012
Christmas Eve
Well, another Christmas Eve dinner has passed. Good company, special food, a glass of fine red wine, sitting outside on the balcony under the stars and the waxing gibbous moon. After the last guest departed, the choir from King's College Cambridge provided an hour and a half's carol singing. Christmas wouldn't be the same without the carols, which serve to remind us of the birth of Jesus, who was to bring so many messages to mankind through his humble life, of the need to be kind and respectful to yourself and others, messages which are more relevant every day as senseless wars and in-fighting among citizens of the same countries continue unabated.
Earlier in the day, I went to the mall (forgot the ice-cream!) - what madness - traffic queues for miles, parking area full at Longbeach (never seen that ever before) - and yet, inside the mall, there was not a feeling of overcrowding or frenzied shopping. The coffee shop was full, but the Christmas spirit abounded, as I chatted to strangers and shared their table. No sooner had they left than an old gentleman asked if he could sit down with me as he was very tired. Imagine having to ask. Of course he was more than welcome, after all I had done the same thing to the previous occupants, and it wasn't long before the waitress had brought him a glass of water, with no expectation of him having to buy anything while he rested. Soon his granddaughter arrived with her daughter and then my son arrived - it was like musical chairs except there was no music.
All around, the neighbourhood was silent last night - not even the guineafowl were squawking and I can't remember when I last heard the hadedahs.
In the afternoon as I walked through the garden, I came upon a young robin, still with spotty feathers on its head, standing on the path in front of me. As I approached, it seemed deep in thought, and only when I was about a foot away did it fly up into the branches nearby. It's lucky I wasn't the cat.
It's 4.30am as I write this. I woke up at 2.30, as I often do - it seems I get an energy burst at that time and I feel like getting up and doing things, but it's not good for the body clock and I'll go back to bed now for another hour or so's sleep. It's getting light over Cape Town on this Christmas Day of 2012. Let's hope it's a peaceful one for everybody. I see there are a few presents under the tree, so it looks as though Father Christmas came down the chimney after all. I hope there's one for me!
Earlier in the day, I went to the mall (forgot the ice-cream!) - what madness - traffic queues for miles, parking area full at Longbeach (never seen that ever before) - and yet, inside the mall, there was not a feeling of overcrowding or frenzied shopping. The coffee shop was full, but the Christmas spirit abounded, as I chatted to strangers and shared their table. No sooner had they left than an old gentleman asked if he could sit down with me as he was very tired. Imagine having to ask. Of course he was more than welcome, after all I had done the same thing to the previous occupants, and it wasn't long before the waitress had brought him a glass of water, with no expectation of him having to buy anything while he rested. Soon his granddaughter arrived with her daughter and then my son arrived - it was like musical chairs except there was no music.
All around, the neighbourhood was silent last night - not even the guineafowl were squawking and I can't remember when I last heard the hadedahs.
In the afternoon as I walked through the garden, I came upon a young robin, still with spotty feathers on its head, standing on the path in front of me. As I approached, it seemed deep in thought, and only when I was about a foot away did it fly up into the branches nearby. It's lucky I wasn't the cat.
It's 4.30am as I write this. I woke up at 2.30, as I often do - it seems I get an energy burst at that time and I feel like getting up and doing things, but it's not good for the body clock and I'll go back to bed now for another hour or so's sleep. It's getting light over Cape Town on this Christmas Day of 2012. Let's hope it's a peaceful one for everybody. I see there are a few presents under the tree, so it looks as though Father Christmas came down the chimney after all. I hope there's one for me!
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