Taxing times, with sunny prospects

Spent most of the day laboriously going through papers to find documents for SARS - bleh! For the first time ever, I decided to claim home office expenses so the taxman's little light flashed and now I have to produce the evidence. Fortunately I gave it a great deal of thought before pressing 'File', but as someone who keeps a pretty good filing system, I was in a bit of a spin when I couldn't find some of the invoices! Murphy's Law at work again. So it was off to trawl the mall for replacement invoices - somewhat of an uphill job as I couldn't remember the exact dates of the transactions - then back home to scratch through old credit card statements. All's well that ends well, as by 6pm I had put it all together on my scanner ready to send off to SARS tomorrow. Then to wait for the refund!

While I was nose to the grindstone, a lovely spring day went by, despite the odd heavy shower, and ended up with blue skies and puffy white clouds dotted across the sky. The sun is nearing the spring equinox position and its progress is clearly marked as it moves past roof tops and trees, sometimes visible in a tiny gap as it reaches the horizon. The way the sun shines into the house also changes daily. At times it shines through the front door at sunrise and onto the balcony, but as summer approaches, the sun moves overhead and doesn't come into the house. By a happy accident, when we designed the house, it is completely sunny inside in winter and shady in summer!

Reports of magnificent flowers up the West coast are pouring in and I'm wondering if another year will go by without me seeing them! Thank goodness for the equally, if on a slightly smaller scale, outburst of white daisies here in Kommetjie! The orange daisies are starting to follow, keeping to the schedule of nature, and pink bokbaai vygies are dotted in between. Soon the purple flowers will make their appearance, thus ensuring that every hue has its moment of glory.

We can still expect plenty of chilly air as the prevailing wind swings to the south east, unhindered by any landmass between Antarctica and the Cape which might warm it, but it heralds the onset of summer, so we'll just grin and bear it.

Sailing from Kalk Bay in the 1930s

My mother has been telling me stories from her childhood and other family-related incidents. It is always so interesting to hear about the 'old days' and the things they could get up to - there weren't the social dangers of modern times, and they got up to things we would never dream of doing with all the ease of transport and modern technology now.

Mom lived in Plumstead all her life, except for a few years in Kalk Bay in the 1930s - her father loved to go fishing and Granny decided to move the whole household to Kalk Bay, opposite Woolley's Pool, for a year or three so that he could fish after work. Who would even think of that now? While living in Plumstead, the four girls were not allowed out of the gate without Granny's permission, but in Kalk Bay they ran free, and she seldom even knew where they were! They were mostly down at the harbour, watching all the comings and goings, but mainly to join the youngsters who were always invited to go for a sail around False Bay in a boat belonging to an old man. He was Sir Abe Bailey, and his boat was called Felicity. He was in a wheelchair and there was a special place in the harbour where he could be wheeled onto his boat via a kind of slipway. When the local kids saw the boat drawing up to the jetty, they knew a ride was in the offing and would rush over to watch Sir Abe and his posh guests embark. Once they were all settled, he would turn around and call to the kids to jump aboard and off they would go.

My Granny had no idea that her children were sailing around the bay on Sir Abe's boat, but I doubt whether they ever got into trouble. What a marvellous childhood!

Anniversary and birthday - a quiet day at home

Been married 34 years today and He Who Can Fix Anything turned 61. The reason for the anniversary and birthday being on the same date was because, in those distant days, I had the idea that it was a means of ensuring that our anniversary was never forgotten. It didn't work. Not one anniversary has been recognised nor celebrated - proof that commercialism and sentimentality hold no water in the greater scheme of things. As birthdays are also regarded as just another day, we didn't recognise that either. But we did go to the dump with the garden refuse and then took a turn round the local hardware store by way of a small celebration.

It's been a quiet day, not only because of the lack of partying, but because we have had a day of soft drizzle, the kind winters used to be made of, and the low clouds somehow make one feel like doing things that you don't get done on a sunny day when you want to be out and about. I spent the whole day working on my next book relating to our trip to Spain last year and achieved more in a few hours than I have in the last two months, while HWCFA pottered in the garage, happy as a sandboy. Lunch was peppered steak, which was quick and easy, and supper is peanut butter toast, so that I don't have to spend time in the kitchen.

I suppose that could be considered a celebration and acknowledgement of my years of devoted service!

We took an evening walk with the dogs, having been rained on early this morning, and here are some pictures of a different time of day in Kommetjie.

Garden pests or wild nature?

Our little flock of hadedahs, whose raucous calling instils ire in everyone unfortunate enough to have them roost nearby, flapped back towards the shore just after sunrise this morning. They still don't realise that they aren't seabirds and have to stick to the land. They are, to me, one of nature's oddities - birds whose call grates on the ear, who eat the earthworms that we really want in our soil for essential aeration and fertilisation, and splatter our walls with copious amounts of yellow poop.  I think their most useful purpose is to amuse, as they sometimes fly around as if they are doing it for practice, with no set plan. When they fly out over the sea, it seems as though they suddenly realise that they have gone too far, and then the flock of fourteen flaps wildly, completely out of co-ordination, and make an about-turn, cackling inanely as they head back towards the safety of dry land.

They do make quite a pretty silhouette against the sky when roosting on the steeple-like roof next door, though.

That other garden pest, the throwing mole, has returned to the front lawn after an absence of some years. I thought he had passed by on the way to the Kom, but this morning he threw up 8 mounds, each one a few feet closer to the fence. The fact that he is burrowing through sodden ground where the water table is about an inch below the surface doesn't make any difference. His strength is incredible - to push out perfect tubes of almost solid earth shows great determination. What with the porcupine snuffling out from the top and the mole tunnelling below, I expect the lawn to be nothing more than a lattice of vegetation waiting to trap the unwary and twist an ankle.

I suppose it's our obsession with wanting to neaten up the natural vegetation that makes us have lawns and flowerbeds and plant things that shouldn't be there. If we left it as a wild meadow, we wouldn't have any stress from mole-heaps and porcupines. Perhaps that is the way to go?

Easing into Spring

Did some tidying up in the garden yesterday - well, mostly done by Daniel, the trusty gardener - but I supervised the pruning of the lemon tree so that I didn't come back to a tree stump, before going down to the rocks to collect a large piece of kelp to put around the trunk to encourage blossom. The very low tide due to new moon exposed vast expanses of rock which form the seabed in our little bay, and the high tide earlier in the day had deposited the kelp nice and close to the path, so I didn't have to jump from rock to rock too much. I selected a fresh piece, as it is pliable and easy to chop into chunks with a spade, but the moisture content makes it quite a dead weight, particularly with the fronds still attached. I passed a number of gardeners tending the neighbours' verges as I lugged my spoils home and they all agreed that they should also be going down to gather this bountiful fertiliser from the sea. I doubt whether they did.

Daniel made short work of what looks like a not very long bit of bamboo (that's what the stalk is called) but was actually about 20ft - the root that anchors the kelp to a rock is obscured by his elbow.

Today the southeaster, albeit a very gentle version, has returned to the Peninsula, lifting the already heavy swells into some monstrous surf off the lighthouse, and the bay is once again filled with surfers from presumably beginners in the Inner Kom to hardened pros braving the giants at the Outer Kom. How privileged I am to live next to this place that reveals a different scene every day, each one better than the next! After a pleasant interlude down at the rocks, I strolled home as the shadows lengthened, and from the neighbours' gardens came the drift of smoke from fires that have been lit for an evening braai - at the first sign of good weather, you can't keep a man away from his braai - and shouted greetings from balconies where sundowners are being enjoyed with the sea view. There's something really special about our little seaside village.

That is a really huge wave at the back! The surfer was just a speck.

A bevy of bathing beauties

 A group of stalwarts takes to the waves at Fish Hoek beach every morning at dawn, winter and summer and any season in between. They have been dubbed the A-team by our local lady, who deserves a similar accolade through her dedication to capturing the moods of the beach at sunrise every day, sharing her evocative photographs with the world and arousing feelings of homesickness in expats everywhere.

The A-team numbers vary as circumstances dictate, but the core group are dedicated to their early morning swim. From September to April, they are joined by the B-team, who shun the colder air of the winter months and therefore do not qualify for superior status. They haven’t all put in an appearance yet – perhaps they are waiting for the equinox on 22 September to make it officially Spring!

Their only protection from the elements is a bathing costume and perhaps a bathing cap. The possibility of shark attacks does not seem to deter them and the new shark net, which is not even set every day, is only put out after their swim, and then by able-bodied young men in wetsuits, who may or may not be embarrassed at being shown up by a bunch of old ladies.

As one who relishes the steaming jets of a hot shower and cannot contemplate dipping a toe in cold water even in summer, I believe that tolerance for the cold is an essential part of the A-team’s makeup. There must be a gene that allows them to enjoy wallowing in temperatures that are less than ambient. Perhaps they have cool showers at home.

On 1 September, they took part in the annual Spring Splash, dressed in the swimwear of 20s Flappers and quite rightly took the trophy! The mountains on the other side of the bay were covered with the heaviest snowfall in many years, further demonstrating the courage of the A-team. One of the members offered some reasons as to why they feel compelled to undergo what, for most of us, seems like self-inflicted torture, and they were: seeing the sunrise over the mountains while in the water; camaraderie (although solo swimming is also a favourite); self-discipline; the feeling of euphoria when it’s all over; fun and friends are a bonus – but most of all, the shock reaction from those on the shore who would never dream of swimming in winter!

The lure of post-plunge hot coffee on a bench in the early morning sunshine and the geniality of the group probably gets everyone off to a good start for the day. I would imagine they are really positive people who would be fun to spend some time with.

With the exposure they are getting, I’m sure it will be only a matter of time before they become a tourist attraction and the tour buses that bring visitors from the Far East to sup on our seafoods at lunchtime arrive for breakfast instead.

A morning at the beach

After Tai Chi class this morning, I set off for Fish Hoek beach to meet a friend who I met via Facebook. She goes to the beach every day for a walk, armed with her camera, and takes the most incredible photos of the beach, the sea, flowers along the catwalk, surfers, whales and birds, as well as the A-team of early morning swimmers if she gets there in time. Her Facebook group page has a huge viewership from ex-Fish Hoekites who are now spread all over the world, but have never lost their love for this most marvellous of beaches where whales and their calves frolic in Spring, and dolphins streak across the bay in schools of up to 500 all year round. Her unusual perspectives and sometimes 'arty' shots let us see the beach from angles we would never have thought possible, and she has an eye for the unusual. Her zoomed photos have become legendary and suggestions of compiling a coffee table book abound.

This morning the north-west breeze had flattened False Bay, although a sizeable bottle-green wave would fold over and crash quite boldly into the shallows as we indulged in coffee and convivial conversation under the palm trees. Beyond the wave, two whales peeped out of the water and then slid silently away, not to be seen again. Seagulls pecked among the remains of the black mussels that washed up a week or two ago, providing photo opportunities for the three busloads of oriental tourists who arrived to enjoy lunch before moving on to Boulders and Cape Point. They seemed delighted by the children's playpark and were photographed by their fellow travellers seesawing, swinging and even slipping down the slide. Perhaps they don't have the freedom to indulge in such childish pleasures back home.

Some hours passed unnoticed. What a privilege to be able to while away the time in such beautiful surroundings.