What a pain!

Having sprained my ankle on last week's Cape Point hike, I now find myself on doctor's orders to rest it for 6 weeks, wear a brace for 3 weeks and then wear a brace on hikes, as the ankle is now a weak point (it has been my whole life - could never ice skate!). What a disaster! The only worse scenario would have been a broken ankle. Imagine having to be airlifted off a mountain by a helicopter!? It would make for another exciting life experience, though. Hmmm. I've always said the reason for my bright pink sun hat is so the helicopter can see me when it comes to find me - talk about tempting fate.
A very important reason for all the hiking is that I find it therapeutic and a marvellous stress releaser, and if I could find the time to hike three times a week, I would. So to be almost confined to barracks is anathema to me. Fortunately this is the time of year when everyone takes a break and so I won't miss too many, but fitness is also a factor, and so I have taken to the exercise bicycle that I found lurking in my daughter's room, cleverly disguised as a clothes horse, and which I had entirely forgotten about.
We lugged this incredibly heavy piece of gym equipment into the lounge and parked it in front of the TV (everyone said it would give me something to do while exercising). Well, you would be hard pressed to find anything remotely entertaining on DStv, even with the Premium package, and it's hard to do Magic Puzzles on a tablet while doing my version of spinning. The saddle doesn't bear discussion - suffice to say that the only sitting position suitable for a lady is far, far away from it. I have always said that the best shape for a bicycle saddle is a tractor seat - what do you men have to say?
I don't know if I'm going to behave and lay off the hiking for so long, especially as the brace makes for easy walking. Let's see what happens.

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 Beemer 2

I was thinking about my old BMW I used to drive - mechanics are wont to call them BM trouble yous - and mine certainly had its idiosyncrasies. A favourite one was to cut out while I was driving. There I would be, cruising along on the school run, five kids in the car (it was a 7-series and very spacious), and suddenly the engine would die. The first time this happened, I waited at the side of the road until I could eventually get it to start again. But here is the value of idle chit chat with girlfriends. I mentioned to a general group that this had happened and one girl said, "Oh that happens all the time to me. I hit the air filter with the heel of my shoe and then it goes again for ages!"

Well, imagine telling that to a mechanic - he would mentally tell himself that you were mental and then dismantle the entire engine and look for faulty wiring or spark plugs. After all, what do women know about cars? So the very next time this happened, I cruised to the side of the road out of the line of slow-moving traffic, raised the bonnet and hit the air filter sharply with a spanner which was handy in the toolkit that comes with the car in a neat compartment under the boot lid. Closed everything up, back in the car and off we went again. So obviously that theory was correct.

I did this many times over the years, frequently endeavouring to impart my knowledge to various mechanics who just wouldn't take me seriously. One even had the gall to suggest I might have run out of petrol (that was the one time that the spanner didn't work!) and we never did get to the root of the problem. Too many other things eventually went wrong and I traded it in for a Toyota Tazz which still goes without any trouble 15 years later.

Style, comfort and class are no substitute for reliability!

An accumulation of clouds

Aren't clouds marvellous things? They have so many uses! They show us the wind direction. Shelter us from the sun. Bring rain (sometimes heavy, sometimes light). They shower us with snowflakes. They cause huge lightning bolts to shoot either up or down and sometimes just horizontally.

Cloud formations as they sweep over mountains are, for me, the most fascinating. Table Mountain has its own special way of dealing with the clouds which come on the south-east wind. They run along the top and fall over the edge towards the city, disappearing about halfway down and giving the mountain its famous 'tablecloth'. When the mountain which looms over Fish Hoek is covered in cloud, you know it is a Black Southeaster and the beach won't be worth going to that day. And the cloud which forms over Chapman's Peak in the same conditions looks like an upturned saucer, so you get a pretty good idea of the weather from clouds over the Peninsula mountain chain.

The shapes formed by clouds provide an endless source of interest and entertainment. When I was young, I remember sitting on a garden wall with my friend, Jo, watching a bank of clouds on the horizon at sunset, and we saw the whole of the Battle of Jericho (imaginatively assisted by the fact that we were both singing the song about that at the school concert) unfolding as the clouds gathered and dissipated. If she reads this, I am sure she will remember!

And of course, their main purpose is to enable us to enjoy the passing of day into night to the greatest degree possible. I can't imagine anyone not being awed by the incredible sunsets that we experience down here at the bottom of Africa.

Below is a small selection of some of my favourite cloud pictures. Enjoy!

Getting back to the real Christmas

Christmas time looms again. The shops are full of decorations and exhortations for you to spend your hard-earned money. While it is fine for the landed gentry, I always feel sorry for those who are unable to splash out at this time. Do they feel they are missing out or are inferior in some way if they don't buy fancy foods and glittering Christmas tree decorations, or perhaps failing as parents if they can't afford to give their children the latest cellphone or game or other electronic device? You will never see an advert urging you to go without presents at Christmas.

Then, as soon as you have maxed your credit to buy these goods, the messages start to come in about how much it is going to cost you for school uniforms and school fees and paying your December bills in January, so it doesn't look like a Happy New Year.

While I have nothing against celebrating what is, after all, a Christian religious holiday and should be of no interest to anyone not of that persuasion, consumerism has stepped in to strip it of any religious significance whatsoever. Perhaps it would be better to transfer the commercial aspect to New Year, which would at least serve a purpose as a party to say farewell to the old and welcome a new phase of our lives. The current New Year celebrations are pretty much a damp squib coming so soon after Christmas. And those presents could be saved for birthdays when it is easier to splash out on one special person at a time.

Maybe a special day spent with loved ones (not just family, but anyone who could do with a little caring) would bring back some meaning to the celebration of the birth of Jesus, whose message was peace, hope, love, humility and charity. I think it would be infinitely preferable to the frenzied commercialism we are subjected to for two months of the year.

The story of my life...

(A tale retold - not a current injury, I have enough of those!)

They (those in the nutritional know) say that Kale is the most nutritious of the leafy greens. What they don't tell you is that few people have eaten it because it is rather an acquired taste, one which I fear is rather slow in coming. The first thing you should know is that, if you have an underactive thyroid, it should only be eaten COOKED, never raw (e.g. green juice), as it will exacerbate the problem. The next important bit of news is that you have to have a good set of gnashers, as this must be one of the toughest leaves in existence. It's best to finely chop the leaves and remove the woody stem before steaming. The final thing is that the taste is quite strong and makes cabbage seem positively bland by comparison. However, in the interests of good nutrition, a couple of leaves now and then are probably a good idea, particularly if you get them straight from the farm.

Farm-fresh kale

Basil and parsley flourishing

After a healthy dose of kale smothered in pepper sauce, I felt ready to muscle the wheelie bin up the long driveway for tomorrow's early morning collection. It was jammed in a corner behind a little dinghy, so I grabbed the front and pulled it towards me and over the gutter. Well, of course, it crashed down on my foot, more specifically, my big toe, and as always right on the nailbed, the most painful place to be injured. And to add insult to injury, it is the same toe that I dropped half a vacuum cleaner on about 10 months ago, the scar of which is still growing out! The painnnn! I hopped and hobbled to try and distract attention from my throbbing toe and eventually dragged myself upstairs and flopped on the bed, where I lay groaning for about 10 minutes. As that didn't elicit the kind of response I had anticipated from HWCFA (apparently can't fix a broken toe), I got up again to carry on with life. I still have to take the bin out, but I think I will have to put safety boots on first.

Do not be alarmed by this photograph of the toe - that is not dirt you are looking at, it's the bruising from the vacuum cleaner injury earlier this year, and to show you the replacement so that I can have another year of scarred toenails. Maybe I should just paint them red!

Madiba - my thoughts on his passing in 2013

I am not a political animal. I lean neither left nor right and I seldom go straight up the middle. Although I have admiration for many people, I don't necessarily read their life stories or slavishly follow their utterances.

And so it is with Nelson Mandela. I was 9 or 10, I think, when he was imprisoned and the South Africa I grew up in didn't allow its people to know anything about him or his political affiliations. I had never even seen a picture of him. When he was released 27 years later, I was eager to see what the man behind the name actually looked like.

He looked happy, smiling, triumphant to be free at last - and already old - a wasted life. But there was no sign of anger or bitterness on his face - only hope for the future of his country.

Due to my apolitical stance, I cannot claim to know anything about him except for the few brief glances I may have taken at media appearances or quotes from his speeches. His time as a leader of our country came too late for him to entrench his values with those who have followed.

Now it is up to the young people of South Africa to walk the talk of Madiba, to adopt his humble, generous and forgiving outlook on his fellow man as their own, and bring this country back to the place he envisioned for it, through quality education of all its people, a spirit of ubuntu and most of all, service to others without self-aggrandisement or self-enrichment at the expense of the common good.

I can only hope that age and infirmity served to shield him from the insult to his sacrificed years of freedom which is the current state of his beloved country.

The long walk to freedom is at last over for him and surely heaven awaits.

His soul now rests in peace. 

(Photos taken this week on a visit to Robben Island. Not the maximum security prison, but bleak and soulless nonetheless.)