Category Archives: Family & Kids

Back from Afriski

Afriski Savanna 2013

James gets First Prize – takes after Ma!

Just got back last evening.
Nine slow hours there on Thursday, and nine hours back today. Dawdled through the Oos Vrystaat. Saw jackal (Tommy spotted him just outside Clarens), mongoose, springbok, blesbok, hartebeest, white-tailed gnu, zebra, grey rhebok, and lotsa birds. Sterkfontein full to the brim and looking blue as the sky. Fascinating to think beneath those clear waters is Nuwejaarsvlei, the farm my Mom was born on in 1928. Lived there till she was eight.

The air was crystal clear, we could see every detail of the Malutis and the ‘Berg. Here’s the whole High Berg from Sentinel to Giants Castle (click on the pic).

The Full High 'Berg Panorama
– all of the High Berg – seen from the top of Oliviershoek Pass –

Kids were a pleasure. Jess took a friend Savanna, and they giggled and ogled the ski instructors non-stop. The Naudes joined us again, so Tom had Joshua and we had James and Michael, old-time skiers all, now – *yawn*!

Ma Michelle took to skiing like a duck to water and won all the bum boarding races hands-down. Must be technique, as I thought my superior attraction to gravity would beat her, but no.

Car Trouble! Craig had car trouble and spent two nights in Ficksburg after we’d all left!! He took his new black Jeep CherryOkie and burnt out the starter motor trying to ignite frozen diesel. Ernest the resident Afriski diesel mech (he keeps the Pisten Bullys going) tried, but no go, so a flatbed truck was summoned from Ficksburg, land of the Cherry Cherry beauty contest.

Before the flatbed arrived, he borrowed my bakkie and took his vrou Michelle and three boys to the Free State Holy City by the River Jordan (OK, Bethlehem). Hired a car for them, so they got back to Westville one night before we did (Monday night). He got back to Afriski late Monday, just before Braam arrived wif ve flatbed. R3600 later the Jeep was dropped on (or off) a jack at the Ficksburg auto-electrician’s, cracking the sump.
So Craig is still in F’burg, two nights later. F*ckit, I think he said . . .

The Resort: Afriski is MUCH more organised now that PIN (the guys I bought thru) have 51% and management control.

This was our seventh trip, so I’m happy we’ve made good use of it. The kids still look forward to it all year – they’re already plotting next year! And they always ask, “Can we go again in the holidays?” and I have to explain how it costs a stack if you go out of your allocated week.

I paid R125 000, so still expensive, but getting less each year! The big question will come when we decide to sell! (update 2020: Well, COVID lockdown played havoc with the resort’s finances; if it survives – it’s touch and go – it’ll be a while before we’ll be able to sell ).

Our chalet is very comfy, 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a big lounge, 12 beds. Lovely kitchen, well-equipped. About 500m from the slope, so we get plenty of exercise in the thin air!

Eye Candy: On our last day six gorgeous shapely models arrived for a photo shoot and had a ski lesson. It was a glorious bright sunny day so they all wore skimpy tops and I had to check up on the kids wif me binocs.

~~~oo0oo~~~

The Ancient Marinades

So the old man went to Maritzburg College for their 150th anniversary 1863-2013* on Saturday. Sheila ignored his protests and arranged it all, including getting free tickets. He’s 91 and was in the 1938 matric class when College was a mere 75yrs old. He bailed out around April and went to work for the GPO – general post office – then off to the war as soon as he could.

Wonder what memories were swirling around here? Walking up to your familiar school entrance seventy five years after your last walk up that path.

PGS Maritzb College (2)
PGS Maritzb College memorial

He thought he’d be the oldest there, but he was trumped by the only other chap from the 1930’s: 97 year old Cyril Crompton – Matric 1933!!

Cyril Crompton (97) and Pieter Swanepoel (91)
– how’s that head of hair!? –

Cyril had driven down from JHB on his own! – watch out on the roads!
He’s driving back on his own tomorrow, but will be stopping off in Underberg to play bowls.

My old man believes in much activity. He does woodwork and metalwork, making clocks, furniture, mosaics and turning wooden bowls, etc; Drives around buying stuff at auctions, butcheries, SPCA sales, etc. Talks about selling stuff, but seldom gets round to it – too busy buying stuff!

He firmly believes “keeping busy” is the reason for his longevity.
So he asks the older Cyril: What do you do to keep busy?
Cyril: Oh, a bit of gardening. The rest of the time I drink beer.

Cyril gave the old man a book he wrote on the war. They were both in North Africa and Italy. In his book “For The Adventure Of It” he writes how he survived the Battle of Sidi Rezegh, one of the most costly in lives in South Africa’s history.  He was captured, the ship was torpedoed and he was taken on a death march from eastern Germany – now Poland – away from the advancing Russian Army.  A gripping story.

Later, the school put their mugs on a mug:

– mug says 2016 so I have some dates mixed up –

~~~oo0oo~~~

Sheila read and vetted my post:

All spot-on except for the free tickets. Lunch was R140 pp. The organisers wore sworn to secrecy. Cyril was delightful, flirting with me throughout. I sat between him and Dad. We all loved the whole day. Will write a proper report which I’ll send Robbie Sharratt plus a pic of Dad and Cyril. Love Sheila

dad-maritzburg-college-1937
– Dad in 1937 –
– the 1937 U/15 athletics champion donates some wood-turned trophies to his alma mater –

Footnote: Cyril lost his drivers licence due to failing eyesight at 99, played bowls till he was 100, then passed away. Dad has renewed his drivers licence at ninety five and eight months, valid for five years!

~~~oo0oo~~~

Read a lovely article in the Sandton Chronicle about Cyril when he turned one hundred. In it he says “My secret to a long life is Castle Lager and cane spirits, my two favourite drinks.” Funny that: For years we listened to Dad expound how the secret to him not being as bad as other drinkers was cane spirits and water. The colour in brandy and whisky was somehow bad, as were mixers – according to him.


– read about his book at Echoing Green Press –

~~~oo0oo~~~

Life on the Flank

Safely on the fringes of the action, Swanie the flank for the Feisty Fourths, who led the cheerleading as they ran on, keeps a comfortable distance between himself and the ball carrier – friendly or hostile. Last to arrive at the scrums, and last to retreat when the opposition gets a penalty. Reluctantly, backwards, with a WTF expression.

Lots of advice for his teammates, he goes quiet when play unexpectedly veers in his direction. Twice he got the ball, and I must admit, made some progress and passed successfully both times. So I could praise him after the game in good conscience.

And they won. Against Penzance.

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And yesterday against Chelsea. They’ve broken the trend and are on a two match winning streak.

Gotta have a man-to-man talk about tackling, and about strolling – STROLLING – casually from scrum to scrum, like a spectator. Hopefully he’ll listen. He doesn’t have a high opinion of bum-sniffers, as he calls locks and 8th men. That’s him kneeling on the right in the top picture.

~~~oo0oo~~~

Long Drive to Kruger Park

On Tuesday, April 9, 2013, Pete S wrote:
Drove twelve hours from home to Hazyview on Thursday. Then eleven hours back on Sunday. 1750km in all, with plenty of road repairs on the way. ‘Stop-Go Controls’ where the road narrows to one lane in places. Plus plenty of stops for juice, snacks and leg-stretching for the hungry hordes. Both of them. OK, all three of us.
Madness.

But the two days we spent at Sabie Park were a real chill. Just us and Dave Hill in a wonderful corner of the bushveld on the Sabie River at Kruger gate adjacent to the KNP. Big Al’s Lodge, he calls it. We gazed across the river at eles, buff, waterbuck and hippos in the park coming down to the beautiful Sabie river to drink.

That’s the Kruger Park across the river. – – – Jess spotted ele, buff, waterbuck & hippo

Next time it’ll have to be for longer, though.

——–
On 2013/04/08, steve reed wrote:
There is just nothing, nothing, nothing to beat sitting watching the other side of a riverbank with binocs, a beer and a savoury snack. It has to be an African river. I have tried it in Aussie and it’s not anywhere near the same.
S’ true!

============
I agree. I can lurk like a crocodile. Even better if one of the companions is restless and feels the need to braai nearby. I can smell the smoke, watch me birds and eat when told to.

I need to fix my telescope now. I missed it there.

============

Inside the lodge:

Big Al’s Lodge

and outside:

Sabie Park.jpg

 

Beefed Up Security

It’s 19h45 Thursday before Easter Friday and I get a call from ADT:

Do I want to upgrade my security? They have a special offer.
No thank you.

Who’s that Dad? shouts Tom.
It’s a sapurity* company offering us a security deal. We don’t need it.

Ah Dad! I do – I need security on my bedroom door.

Turns out some GIRLS are occasionally entering his room!

*Tom has always called them sapurity guards

Elston Olympics 2013

The little-known 2013 Elston Place Olympic Games was a thing. Games I. Not XVI or XXII. No, I.

Tom earned 2 golds (run & soccer ball); Lungelo earned 2 golds (swim & cycle) ; One event was drawn (stone throw); Therefore they ended up Equal Olympic Champs!

– the offical Olympic Timekeeper’s station – with those stones visible –

The Games started officially with four Olympians; then one competitor DNF and one withdrew to go home for lunch.

~~~oo0oo~~~

Stone throwing was interesting. I found ten smooth, small-egg-sized stones in Aitch’s stuff. She had lots and lots of all sizes. I upended an outside black bin and placed an empty 10kg HTH bucket on it, also upended. I placed this target about 8m from a walkway so there’d be no encroaching – there was a clear place to stand. I then gooi’d five stones at the HTH bucket and hit it five times. I did grow up in Herriesmif and gooi’ing fings wif a stone was a fing, I’ll admit.

Tom stepped up; Five throws, five misses. Some by a puzzling large margin. Lungelo sniggered, stepped up: Five throws five misses. Some quite literally by about 4m at 8m distance! I had to give frowing fings wif a stone lessons before they started hitting the bucket occasionally! Bloody mis-spent youth they had, it would appear!

  • These two are so cool we had icicles on the rafters
  • and homework was done

~~~oo0oo~~~

Terry Brauer wrote Feb 2013: This so reminds me of Pinaster Street Olympics, FA cup finals – cricket, soccer, tennis, ad nauseum – Ryan and Deon!!

~~~oo0oo~~~

gooi – frow

frow – throw

My Rugger Bugger

The man has decided its rugby this year, so I get lots of tackle-talk and tales of dragging tyres across the field.

Went to fetch him yesterday and watched a while. He’s going to get a crick in his neck from looking up at the other guys. At least he was catching and passing well with the ball all slick in the drizzle.

He has a new name among the rugger ous now:
.
.
Swanie

– third standing fella from left –

~~~oo0oo~~~

They lost a few games – this one:

. . but then won this game against Penzance and started winning most of their games after that.

– my flank is kneeling –

~~~oo0oo~~~

Senior Citizens Hippy Revival

Just returned from a gathering in Harrismith where my sole function was to bring the average age of the attendants down to a respectable level.

Pierre duP, Jill Venning and Mark Raz Russel threw a joint 60th celebration in Harrismith. Pierre builds, Jill farms, Mark runs Finlay’s general trading store – and the golf club – in Harrismith. At their age, a “joint” gathering also describes one of the main topics of discussion among the creaking decrepit.

Swinging 60’s themed, most of the inmates came predictably dressed as hippies. I went as a hippie who admired Elvis’ dress style post-cheeseburgers. I was Sure to Wear some Flowers in my Wig, as a favourite song sang. Some wore safari suits with a comb in vey sock. One wore an old English-type boys school uniform: blazer, cap, short pants and polished shoes. Most wore wigs – and many needed them. Oh, and John Venning very predictably – but a lot later than usual – got round to dropping his trousers.

Fine mates from way back!! Posing with young Tuffy Joe Joubert and old Pierre duP du Plessis. We might not fit together on the back seat of a Saab, nor in the rear compartment of a Beetle anymore.

The evening was saved visually and average age-wise by a flock of the birthday gang’s kids and their friends. They’re now adults, of course, so we could relax and act second-childhood. There were two of Pierre’s blondes there, Michele & Natasha, Mark’s son & daughter and Jill’s two as well, Kirsty was one. They were also dressed as hippies, and they were looking like how we all imagined we were looking. Luckily, there were no mirrors at the venue. Some aesthetically-delightful sixties-style minis and boots on show.

An excellent one-man band played all the right stuff, so it was a good thing it was loud or it would have been ruined by everyone singing along. Myself I would have had half-hour gaps with no music so we could hear each others’ lies, but no, when the band-man was resting, someone cranked on some good ole vinyl LP or other. Probably the bloody youngsters (we must start practicing to grumble).

Pierre gave a speech! Well, he joined Jill & Raz in a well-rehearsed threesome form of poetry rending in which they painted themselves in a good light and we listened politely.

Sheila rounded up a flock of ancient Methodists for a group shot, so three Swanepoels, three du Plessis, three Woods, and Tuffy Joubert posed for the Methylated Spirits Revival. Lulu tried to join in, but we wouldn’t have it, her being blerrie NG Kerk an’ all. She protested that she had come to guild once, to no avail.
Funniest thing was the youngsters drilling us for tales of yore. We told them tales of what their Moms and Dads got up to when they were their age to gasps of outrage when they thought of how their folks had raised them all strictly and with rules and curfews. I had to tell Lettuce Leaf’s kids the old one about how all the trouble started in the Garden of Eden when Adam said to Eve “Ek het your leaf.”
I went home soon after 2.30am leaving quite a few senior citizens and even more young uns still dancing. A few were slurring so that I couldn’t get what the hell they were saying, but they seemed happy with my nods and smiles and ‘Quite right!’s and ‘Serious?’s. Of course some of those were nearer 70 than 60 which makes the ‘hoesê?’s quite frequent!
We stayed at Heritage House, Pierre & Erika’s beautifully restored old house-next-door which they run as a bed & breakfast, so post-party we gathered in the kitchen till after 3am.

Later we gathered for a big breakfast at the Table of Knowledge in Heike’s restaurant on the slopes of 42-second Hill just below the quarry where Jock Grant would blast his dynamite, rattling the dorp’s windows.
Some of the Harrismith farmers are doing spectacularly well. Lodges in Tuli Block, Lodges near the Olifants river, big herds of disease-free Ramaposas, massive wild free-range earthworm farms, lodges on their farms (see https://www.buffalohillspgr.co.za/ and https://lalanathi.co.za/)

Some are also buying “townhouses” – big old sandstone houses in town which they revamp and extend for staying over if they’re a bit too aled to drive home to their farms! I spose you could call them Safe Houses.

And so some more upstanding citizens became senior citizens!

So here’s an update, you “youngsters”: That whistling noise you hear in your ears is not tinnitis. It’s the sound of the plummeting reaching terminal velocity . . . . .

Unreasonable Bastid

Jess got home from her last day of school on Thursday with a friend.
To stay the night.
Oh. OK.

It’s Saturday and the friend is still here.
Not a word, nor a call, nor an sms from a Mom or a Dad.

Now they want another friend to visit.
OK. Get him to ask his Mom or Dad and get them to call me. You know how it works, Jess.
OK.

They mXit him. Then they give me the Mom’s cell number. He says I must call her.
Jess, you know the drill: Get him to ask his Mom or Dad and get them to call me – like I said.
Ah, Dad!
Yes, my dear. That’s the way it has always been. It hasn’t changed.

Bloody hell. Of course, they haven’t called, so she didn’t come.

I have now sms’d the parents of the girl who is still mysteriously here, asking “When are you fetching her?”

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.

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.

2010Dec18 Tommy Trish Aitch.JPG

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.