Angel Fevvers From Above

Went to watch a troupe of French “Angels” flying high above the city hall last night. Me and the kids with Cecelia Shozi and her two girls.
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We met Bruce & Heather and Vicky there, sitting on the base of a statue.
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Cables had been strung from the top of the city hall spire over to other buildings and between various other buildings, criss-crossing the square in front of city hall, where Jannie Smuts and Queen Vic and other umlungus stoically endure the pigeon shit. Some cables went from the top of buildings such as 320 West Street down at about a 70º angle to Aliwal Street.

Angel fevvers
Pity few of the cables are visible in my pic – I should draw them in!

I was looking forward to the madness!

After a while an old sapurity (Tom’s word) guard came up to me where I was peering up at the cables with Tom on my shoulders and told me there’s gonna be an hour’s delay. We joked about the angels having to preen their wings and I said I was worried one of these angels might come and take me away.

“Oh, no, sir” he says to me “Yours will be black  and carry a scythe, and he’ll come from up there” pointing at the blackened top floor of 320 West Street which had recently burnt out. Then it started raining and the wind came up, so I decided there’s no way the angels will fly and off we went home.
Dammit. THE ANGELS DIDN’T FLY!

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Then Sheila wrote:

Oh no – what a pity you left.

THE ANGELS DID FLY!

I was there and it was utterly enchanting. We came out of the concert (in the city hall) at about 8.30pm and it was drizzling ever so slightly, but even that stopped before the angels started flying. It was pure magic.

The fevvers (as Deon Joubert would have called them, back in Harrismith in the 60s) floating down made it look as though it was snowing, ‘specially in the spotlights.

I couldn’t help thinking that there must be a hellavu lot of kaalgat chickens skoffeling around today – I have never seen so many fevvers – and they were real!

The atmosphere was fantastic – with great shouts going up everything the angels released huge bags of fevvers all over us. I had my binocs and you could see the angels were having huge fun.


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FROM A REPORT: Angels paid Durban a visit this week, bringing magical moments of “light, sound and heavenly activity and a sense of cohesion, unity and humanity shared” to quote Bongani Tembe, South Africa’s commissioner general for the French Season in South Africa that opening in June and ended with the angels.

Strange feathered creatures edging along zipwires strung from high above street level outside the city hall. Glittering winged figures. Flying. Gliding playfully above crowds of spectators invited to the free sky spectacle by the heavenly Place des Anges.

At first the feathers fell like thick flakes of snow; then the flurries became almost a blizzard as the area became a mysterious new place.

Magical Moment of Light put Durban on the map alongside Piccadilly Circus and the 2012 Olympics in London, Moscow, Tokyo and Perth to name a few places where Les Studios de Cirque have taken their angels and feathers.

For thirty minutes, the twisting and twirling trapeze artists careened across the sky in graceful flight, slowly performing tricks and turns, before releasing a cascade of feathers from suitcases and umbrellas on the crowds below.

“Taking place in the creative heart of Durban, the show also serves to remind all of the city’s magnificent architectural beauty and artistic value, and to revive a sense of pride during these moments of playfulness.”

While the crowds gathered in the plaza in front of Durban’s city hall waiting for the aerial show, guests and dignitaries inside the city hall — first bored by some overlong speeches (the speakers were apparently given two minutes each — but some took up to twenty!) — were enchanted by the KZN Philharmonic Orchestra and three extraordinary KwaZulu-Natal choirs.

 

 

 

De-Merits

Tom got two more. One for flying a paper plane in class. The other for shirt out and socks down. Shirt out or Socks down No. 132

I said (ala Paul Simon):

¶ “You’re in trouble, boy and now you’re headed in for more. It’s the same old story: ¶

Either you build a paper plane that flies the length of the passage or . . . ”

No problem. Fold fold fold fold fold, flick. We high-fived before it even landed.

See, Dad, I made it for Teshail and it was passed around the class and then came back to me. I threw it at Teshail but it went too far and landed on Mr Verster’s desk.

Ok, boy. I see.

Jessie’s Prizegiving

Grade 8 – 2012

Jess got a number of certificates. Best being the floating trophy for 1st in English.
And she sang in the choir with John Didlick and Sure Gooding. “You raise me up”
Tom was hugely proud of Big Sis . .

.
A hilarious speech by the only girl in matric. Rambling, giggling, slating slander of all the teachers and kids. No holds barred.
“I’m leaving now, what you gonna do?” approach.
Had the hall crying with laughter.
Catherine someone.

Four Wild Toppies on the Old Coast

Secret Diary of a trip down mammary lane.

It wasn’t that we were actually, y’know, OLD, but . . . well, we needed a break and a brief flashback to our glory days, when the chicks used to hurl themselves at us. Well, that one. In the harbour, remember?

So we piled into a kombi and headed off to the Wild Coast, looking for That Famous Stuff they sell down there, and hoping to rendezvous with the Swedish Hockey team. OK, the Swedish Old Girls Hockey Team, who were rumoured to be doing pre-season training in Lusikisiki (or, as we called it after crawling out of The Shy Stallion shebeen) Lo-squeaky-squeaky.

As we neared the coast there was a lo-ong downhill ahead of us and I stopped the kombi and got onto Abbers’ mountain bike and whizzed down with glee. As I reached terminal velocity I did think Uh-Oh! as I felt the effects of the Black Label kicking in. At the bottom I coasted to a halt. I don’t do uphills.

It was the Black Label by the quart and sweet wine that did it, I suppose, but when we got to the actual coast where the waves break against the rugged shore, we were looking for some action. We needed a break from all the Sixties music we’d been playing, broken only by one awful interlude when Bruce snuck an Amy Winehouse CD into the player! So we lay down and had a snooze.

But Abbers had brought that borrowed mountain bike, and we no longer wondered why. Seems he wanted to get away from the competition and meet up with a longtime connection he had met when salvaging the good ship BBC China which foundered off Grosvenor back when he was but a boy in his forties. Off he went on his own, heading vaguely south, trapping that fiets stukkend.


– Check carefully: No hockey girls –

When he got back much later there was a distinct whiff of some smoky vegetation about him and the Msikaba mosquitoes avoided him like the plague. We pumped him for information, but all we got was a mumbled “Loose-titty-titty” and the fact that he had not found the now-overdue Swedish Old Girls Hockey Team, but that when we did he dabzed wrestling with the goalie.

Abbers’ head did clear after a few days and he set off fishing so as to be able to answer spouse Les reasonably honestly, give or take; but the fish were having none of it. You could actually see them giving his bait a wide berth and wrinkling up their nostrils.

~~oo0oo~~

wikipedia (to show my memory is flawless and I don’t make up this kak): MV BBC China was a 5,548 GT general cargo vessel. In October 2003 the ship was diverted to Italy while carrying gas centrifuges for uranium enrichment to Libya. In October 2004 it ran aground near Port Grosvenor, where it was declared a total loss and subsequently demolished with explosives.BY ABBERS! See? This is true.

~~oo0oo~~

trapping that fiets stukkend – pedaling vigorously

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Meanwhile, unbeknown to us . . . a few rivers further north, the Swedish ladies K4 paddling team was training on the Umtamvuna:

swedish rowing team

This is true. OK, they might not have been there that same weekend but they did go there! And they were Swedish. And gorgeous.

Msikaba Boys Weekend

Taking pictures was hard cos there was beer . . .

~~oo0oo~~

But Will He Wear It?

I looked on in amazement as Aitch looked at kids dress-up suits in the market in Hong Kong.

Surely he’s too old for these? I asked, knowledgeably.

She just smiled, and bought the one he would be LEAST likely to wear: A dragon suit with a hood, clawed gloves and a thick stuffed tail with scales running right down the back and long tail. Most uncomfortable if you lay on that thick tail, I thought.

Well, of course he LOVED it. Wore it for years – till it was threadbare! Both in bed as jarmies and out in public.

Moms just know.

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What Do Dads Know Anyway!?

Had a 10yr old crawl into bed with me last night.

OK, Dad? he asked.
Sure, Boy. But I’ve only got a sheet, will you be warm enough?
He just smiled knowingly. He was carrying Girry the Giraffe whose tummy is stuffed with a fleecy blanket. He unzipped her, pulled out the blanket and snuggled under it, his head on Girry’s as a pillow.

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You know, when your Mom bought Girry for you I said to her: “Do you think he’ll like that? Isn’t he too old for that?” She just looked at me smugly and said: “He’ll LOVE it”.

Mommy knew everything, says Tom.

 

Paintball Party

Tom’s party: Eight boys and two girls, so two teams of five.

Right, the Blues defend this fort and the Greens defend that fort. Hide behind structure, take careful aim and don’t shoot someone at point blank range. Try and take over the other guys’ fort.

CAN WE GO NOW?!?

You have 100 paint pellets each, conserve your ammunition. Take careful aim and fire single shots.

CAN WE GO NOW?!?

OK! GO!

DRRRRR!!! BRRRRR! DRRR! DDAPADAPDAPADAPDAPADAPAPADAP

Aaw! I’M OUT OF AMMO!

R100 each, 100 bullets each, less than 100 seconds total !

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Tom turned eleven.

Rain and Roughing it

Lotsa rain in Tegween (eThekwini, Durban). The garden looks like a series of lakes and the pool is overflowing. I had asked Tobias to fill it up just before the rains started, so I’ve actually paid for some of the water flowing out over the lawn!
Luckily I have a bakkie now, so I shouldn’t get stuck. If it carries on I’ll be wishing I’d bought a 4X4.
Thanks to the new patio roof and a flat roof over the new scullery we have the sound of rain on a tin roof again. Haven’t had that since Vrystaat days. I love it. Music to my ears!

Finally extracted me digit and have started some DIY stuff at last. Bookshelves, mainly – to act as a room divider to shut off the guest loo from direct view! Tobias has been a big help, working in the cottage as it’s too wet to do any gardening.

Now I must get round to fitting a new geyser – OK, having one fitted. Been without hot water in the house for three months (we have hot water both in Cecelia’s room and in the cottage, though). I reckon I’d have got it in the ear after three DAYS if Aitch had been around! Three HOURS maybe!

When the kids moan I just assure them it’s character-building to carry hot water from outside to the washbasin, and to go out to the cottage to shower, towel over your shoulder.

And so it is, actually.

It’s Lo-onely in the Saddle . . .*

Jessie lost all her songs on her Blackberry. Also all her photos. Just disappeared. Much sadness.

She started uploading new songs slowly from her friends.

This morning she comes running to me “Dad! Dad! All my songs are back! I’ve got 173 songs! Also all my photos are back!”

I said ‘You must have played a Country & Western song backwards, love.’

She just looked at me blankly, thinking ‘What’s he on about?’

Different generation. Double generation gap, in fact.

.

*. . . since my horse died.

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Everyone knows if you play Rock n Roll backwards you get Satanic Verses.

If you play Bles Bridges backwards you get potjiekos recipes.

If you play Country and Western backwards you get your dog back, you get your girlfriend back, you get your house back, you get your modified pickup truck back . . . and your lost songs on your cellphone!

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Hijack Anniversary

15 August 2012 – sms from Belinda:

Hey Pete! I stand to be corrected, but it was 10 or 11 years ago tonight we met some uninvited visitors at your house after a St Lizzie’s parents meeting! Just a thought I had.

(I was taken off from our home by five armed guys in Belinda’s VW Polo that night, and dropped off on the M19 onramp onto the N2 South. A truck driver stopped and took me to a garage. Cops then fetched me and took me home. Her car was recovered the next day. Belinda and the Griffiths had come for coffee after a pre-school parents gathering. I was carrying little Em to Belinda’s car when I was jumped).

Pearls Before Swine

On Friday, August 3, 2012, Pete wrote: You can’t understand teenagers. Whenever I offer to sing to Jess and her friends to save her the cost of tickets to hear Justin Bieber or whoever, she says “OmiGawd, Dad, NO!”
When she’s in the car with friends and I offer to sing instead of listening to their CD’s, iPods, Blackberrys, bluetooth to my speakers, or whatever, I get a loud chorus of “No Thanks Pete!!” and whispered giggles to Jess about her weird Dad.

But she has a soft heart. Yesterday she came to me and said “Dad maybe old people would want to listen to you sing.”

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Steve Reed wrote: Want to listen to you sing?  Only old people who are drunk and who are also wanting to sing. I suspect this type of forced exposure to our dubious talents (though with only the best of intentions) would have been responsible for a substantial degree of traumatic stress to our own kid . . . Character building though. 

Anyhow, good to see the SAfricans doing well in the Olympic medals. 

Aussies have brought a bunch of retired sportsmen out to have a go. The pre – Sydney games sports development initiative is now a thing of the past.

Go the ZA’s! . . and good on the Kiwis.

I wrote: Ah, austerity over posterity? The calvinist ideal. Usually used to deny poor people their fair share; but in this particular case I agree with it, I’m afraid. ‘Specially here, where much money is spent looking for medals (and my favourite: building plush, empty, white-elephant stadiums) while people have no jobs, houses or electricity. Even the lotto’ charity’ gives money to ruddy sports clubs rather than genuine charities. Bums me.

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Back to singing: Fine tradition, drunk warbling.

Steve: One of Australia’s best has yet again done his country ‘proud’ . .

Australian Olympic rower will offer his apologies to the shop owners whose windows he damaged. Booth will also pay more than $2000 to the owners in a bid to avoid criminal charges. The 21-year-old Melbourne University student was intoxicated during the incident as the team was out celebrating.

The men’s eight rowing team qualified 6th just hours before the incident. The Australian Olympic Committee have little doubt of Booth’s involvement and say he is responsible for all reparations. Many believe the incident has caused embarrassment for the Australian Olympic team. (Me: Drunkenness has cause Aussie embarrassment? C’mon! Get real).

Booth fainted and hit his head at the police station after being arrested. He was then taken to hospital as a precaution. OK, now that’s embarrassing for Aussie.

And no, they take NO Drugs. This liquid has long been declassified as a drug by the anti-drug, pro-booze industry . .

I wrote: Having once (long ago) experimented with this very same liquid drug, I spose I should keep quiet at times like this . .

Steve: Still doing controlled experiments myself. Let’s call it research. 

I wrote: Yep – C2H5OH taken internally . . ongoing experimentation. Cos there’s still so much to learn . .

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Thy Ox and My Ass

On a boys getaway weekend to Manteku on the WildCoast my kombi makes it easily down to Drifters’ camp, though I do think Uh! Oh! as we drive down, Might be interesting getting out!

Uh Oh!

Five glorious days later we pack up and head out. But it has rained and the hill is too much for the kombi. What now? We’re the only vehicle in miles and the okes who should push are way too old for the job. They sit in my fine vehicle looking at me, sipping beer and asking, So what are YOU going to do?

Luckily, our Drifters camp manager is helpful. “No problem,” he says, “I’ll get some oxen.”

Oh, the shame! My ‘friends’ roar with laughter and start preparing. To lighten the kombi? To attach the tow rope? To clear big rocks away? No. None of the above. To take pictures!

A ‘helpful’ comrade filled with empathy!
– after a false start, where the oxen made a beeline for the river, we’re now aimed right . . uphill –

To this day I am reminded of this by these helpful ‘friends’. If I mention any car trouble they helpfully tell me: “Check for ox shit in the axles.”

At the top, it’s payment time: Thanks for your time, your trained oxen and your skill!

I told the helpful owner, Verily, Thy ox saved My ass.

~~oo0oo~~