Jessie had another magic concert at school. Singing and dancing with gay abandon.
As I drove home it struck me:
I hadn’t taken a single picture! Damn!
I’d have been in big trouble under a previous regime!
Got one from the teachers
Spring and Rivalry
The big old mirror removed from my bathroom and placed against an outside wall didn’t seem to be causing any hassle.
But in the meantime Spring has sprung and brightly-coloured little hormone packages are whizzing about.
This fella was having at his reflection and must have concussed himself or run out of steam.
Luckily he was fine after a bit of rest and recuperation and whizzed off while I turned the mirror around so he could no longer spot a handsome rival annoyingly mimicking his every move. Who the hell did he think he was!?
~~~o0oo~~~
Hwange Camp Invasion – Unruly Behaviour
Sister-in-law Janet in Maun sent this: As you know, Duncan is project manager for Beks Ndlovu’s company African Bush Camps. He is currently refurbishing the camp we stayed at with Trish in Jan 2010 – Somalisa in SE Hwange.
This week Duncan wrote to Beks: “FYI . . Jurassic is causing a nuisance in camp. Broke into the new storeroom to get cabbages and potatoes. Then did the same to the new Acacia kitchen on Monday night. I believe quite a lot of damage and refused to be chased away.”
Beks wrote: Our project manager Duncan Elliott, who has spent many years in the bush building safari camps, sent me this message tonight whilst I was on vacation in Australia. Jurassic, by the way is an elephant at Somalisa who has a seriously warped sense of humor. He eats guests’ soap and toothpaste and refuses to go by our general ground rules . . He has a mind of his own!
I can’t help but reflect that today we have these encounters with wildlife and here is what I sent back to Duncan:
“What fun and games… You are amongst very few people in this world that can tell that kind of story? Do you think your grandchildren might have the same stories in years to come?
Please kindly ask Jurassic to understand we have a new camp to open in less than a week and since he is family he needs to understand FHB ( family holds back)!”
Brief Power and Glory on the Umko
I was an Umkomaas Canoe Marathon Official once. Kakhuis Field Marshall for the start of one Umko. Appointed by the uber-command of KCC, it was my job to reduce the toilet-paper-in-the-bush syndrome around the start near the Hella Hella bridge. I had relayed farmer Barry Porter’s unhappiness at the phenomenon to the heavies, they were of course aware of the issue, so they roped me in to help solve it!
Lines of green mobile flush toilets were stationed at the start, and for kilometres before the bridge, starting up at the bend that drops you down into the valley proper, I lined the road with large neat signs exhorting paddlers to “Go Now”, “Use the toilets as soon as you get to the start,” “Avoid the rush,” “Don’t do it in the bush,” and other thoughtful and helpful suggestions.
Mindful of Umko Master Charlie Mason’s wise and thoughtful maxim, “There’s no better laxative than a full Umkomaas” my signs got more urgent the nearer you got to the bridge.
But I was handicapped.
– Firstly, my request for a suitable uniform and hat befitting my high station had been turned down.
– Secondly, my request to have full access to the public address system was denied. Would Billie-Boy Barron hand me the microphone? No.
I was going to thoughtfully say:
“Attention please! Aandag asseblief! Especially you Vaalies and Dabulamanzi ous: KAK NOU!!” I know for a fact that Meyer Steyn – most Umko finishes of anyone ever, while based inland – would have appreciated the reminder . .
Barry said to me later, he thought that year was the least mess he had seen in recent times! Making the local farmers happy is a big part of the success of river races, so I was very chuffed! Of course, if they’d given me free reign to wear the right uniform and exercise my full powers it would have been even better . .
~~~oo0oo~~~
Softie
I’m off on a four-day weekend to Ndumo, abandoning the kids. Charles and Barbara Mason have very kindly invited me on their regular annual trip.
Leaving for school today, Tom spots we’re alone, no-one in earshot.
Gives me a big hug, leans his head against my chest, “I’m going to miss you Daddy. Don’t get hurt.”
Then he looks me in the eye with a grin, “Don’t get drunk, don’t get high, don’t get the munchies” he says and saunters off to school.
Ndumo was great. Dry but lots of birds around camp and the pans walks beautiful as always.
Special sights: Skeins of gyppos and spurwing overhead; A thermal of pelicans soaring; Retz’s & white helmetshrikes, nicators, tinkers, honeyguides and honeybirds, a trogon, robins, apalii, ‘peckers, spoonbills wading, glossy ibis, lots of others.
A glimpse of a suni in the sand forest was special too. Lots of crocs, heard the hippos but didn’t see them.
There are seven huts at Ndumo and there were 14 people plus me, so friends Charles and Chris moved an extra bed into their bungalow, shipped their wives off to the next door chalet and there I was, the newly-minted pensioner among the established pensioners. And probly the best-behaved. This lot had known each other for far too long and were teenagers all over again. Dermott Beck from Bergville in the 50’s knew the Reitz’s and had been operated on under chloroform by Dr Frank Reitz in Harrismith – as had I some 12yrs later!
Luckily a lone lady camping in a pup tent on her way to Mocambique joined us – making me only the second-youngest in camp.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Pre-launch instructions
We are able to do
I finally managed to contact Ndumu main office on 035 591 0058 and spoke to Bongani as Mr Chris was off.
Also cell numbers (never answered!!!) 072 672 8508 and 082 799 1491
Bongani suggests that we bring our own water 5 – 10 litres per person / couple as they do not always have enough for sale – we are able to boil water for drinking if supplies run out.
We are able to do a Pongola bird walk, a pan walk to Shokwe or Njamithi, the rhino walk area has been very dry but depending on the rain situation we may be able to walk there.
Take comfortable shoes, hats, water bottle, sweets, binoculars, camera, bird, tree or flower books, reading matter
Cost of Landrover trip: R240
Cost of walks R120
Cost of trip in own vehicle with game guard +- ????
In the past we’ve tried to do at least an early morning and an evening game drive during our stay, but it is optional (usually one a day) or however many you wish to.
Enjoyable to do a walk a day.
It is also lovely to just sit in the camp and watch the birds.
Please bring your OWN TORCHES
Can stop at an Ultracity / or Mkuze for lunch if you wish on the Friday
The previous times we’ve been at Ndumu we worked in pairs overseeing the catering etc per day which enables us all to have ‘time out’.
We used to buy the food for everyone and costs were shared – but the past two times we allocated meals to the 4 people overseeing the catering per day and we all took different items. It worked well as we each have a fridge in our unit to store food.
There is a cook and washer up who are quite adequate – Jabulani and Ginger. If you prefer you could do some pre-cooking at home and the cook could do the rice / potatoes / vegetables / salad or whatever.
Those on duty need to give the cooks the meat / vegetable etc before we go off for walk or landrover trips in the afternoon. They need to be requested to make a fire on the ‘braai night’
Whoever is providing the dinner for the evening also provides the serviettes, dessert or chocolates and candles if so desired.
Lunches – simple – suggest either cold meat or tuna mayo / salad / rolls / cheese or whatever (can use ‘heat and eat’ breadrolls or ciabatta)
THANKS FOR PAYMENT RECEIVED AGES AGO
For 1 chalet for 2 people: Fri and Sat night R700 per night x 2 nights = R1400
Ditto Sun and Mon nights R560 per night x 2 nights = R1120
Total = R2520
ie per person for the 4 nights R1260 or per couple R2520
The cheaper 2 nights are with pensioners discount.
Not sure if anyone has arranged to go to Tembe Elephant Park after Ndumu or for a game drive whilst we are at Ndumu – distance from Ndumu probably 35 minutes travelling
Tel: 039 – 9732534 0826 512 868
Spoke to Claudette (Westville) 031 – 2670144 who does the accommodation bookings.
Info R35 per vehicle R30 per person if in 4 x 4 able to do a ‘self drive’ otherwise to book at least 24 hours before with Claudette –
Cost R800 for landrover / for 8 – 10 persons and R100 per person – would be met at the gate. Drive 11am – 2pm
HAVE A LOOK AT TEMBE WEBCAM OR ZULCAM ON THE INTERNET – BEST TIME BETWEEN 11AM AND 3PM WHEN THE ELEPHANTS ARE AT THE WATER HOLE.
Please – none of the above is cast in stone and we are all flexible and open to any other suggestions.
Many thanks,
Chris
Certainty
Nice when you know things for sure. More and more becomes grey in my life, less and less is black-and-white.
Not quite 50 shades yet, but a few shades of grey. Certainly not even blackish-and-whiteish.
But not so in TomTom’s 13yr-old world. Things are certain.
Like: Women don’t cut men’s hair.
What do I mean? It’s a known fact that only men cut men’s hair. Women wouldn’t know how to and anyway they don’t know the latest styles. Which is what we need. Obvious. I had taken him to a lady who advertised that she did same in Westville. That would have been handy. But when we got there, mutter mutter, her side-kick, manning the store in her absence said “We don’t cut hair,” as she fiddled with a lady’s hair, rubbing some gunk into it. All heads in the store had swivelled round to see what this mlungu was doing there! I’m sure some braids were done crooked that day.
Tom marched out smartly with a look that said “SEE!?”
So Sunday I load up Tom and his mate Jose and take them to town. Drop them off at Warwick Triangle to cut their hair and catch a taxi home. Managed to horrify them by suggesting that I join them. You’ll look SO out of place says Tom. No thank you sir, says Jose.
Must say they look neat kif swell cool whatever word is acceptable today (all those will be wrong).
He won’t even let me cut his hair anymore. He used to:
Two haircuts snapped when halfway done.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Rafting the Tugela Gorge
Friend (and Dusi Great) Andre Hawarden started a rafting outfit so we thought, ‘Hey Let’s Bumble Down the Tugela with him!’ Summer of 1990.
I took my kayak and got a discounted self-propelled ticket. Aitch perched on one of Andre’s proper oarsman rafts – the best kind – where you sit and admire the scenery as the galley slave propels you downstream. When you have to paddle alongside as crew you miss the scenery in the rapids, as your head is down. Aitch sat behind like Lady Muck and admired the oarsmen’s physiques as they toiled.
Lowish water at the Ngubevu put-in, after a hairy ride on Farmer Vinnige Fanie’s truck. We had perfect weather, great grub, good company. Fellow Kingfisher paddler Les Keay was also along, powering the second raft, so we had good Dusi power all round. Figtree Beach campsite ranks with the best anywhere. Whattapleasure to camp there again.
Here’s the old paper album – photographed and scrapped:
Amazing riverside campsite – Figtree Beach Camp:
Pirate raiding parties and water fights:
Jamieson’s Bridge – the end is always too soon! Especially as we now face the DANGEROUS part: The return trip in Vinnige Fanie’s truck!
~~~oo0oo~~~
Mad Dusi (and now Berg) paddler Andre blogs here.
Vinnige Fanie – Fast Furious Fanie, adventurous farm truck driver
Pulling Frontwards
VOORTREKKER HISTORY WEEKEND
FRIDAY 31st JULY - 18H00 Meet Ken in the Conference Room for a talk, “Zulu Military Systems”.
SATURDAY 1st AUGUST - 09H00 Depart for the Kerkenberg, to see where Piet Retief’s daughter wrote her father’s name on the rock; and the Kaalvoetvrou (barefoot woman) Monument at Retief’s Pass. From this magnificent vantage point on the edge of the Drakensberg escarpment, you’ll be told the story of the arrival of the Voortrekker parties, Retief’s visit to King Dingane and the tragedy that unfolded in the valleys below.
Return to The Cavern in time for lunch.
Ken makes it all come to life. But no thanks. I had enough of “the arrival of the Voortrekker parties” back in the sixties and early seventies to last me a few more decades, thank you. “The Great Pull” – Die Groot Trek – was an oft-repeated, always mocked theme throughout my lo-ong Free State school years.
Before we had Boy Scouts in Harrismith my good mate Leon Crawley joined the FrontPullers as we used to call them. The Voortrekkers. Later he told me they were going on a camp and made it sound so good I asked if I could join them. Only if I ‘sluited aan’ said the Kommandant and Korporaal and Hoofleier and all those other menacing military-sounding mense that ran it. With their berets and badges and uniforms.
So I sluited aan for short-term gain and went to a pre-camp session, then joined them for that camp in winter in a wattle plantation on a farm outside Swinburne. Bok Venter’s farm. Where we sang lying songs and listened to lies exaggerations.
I did have fun, but I resigned the next week. Or probly just let things lapse. So yes, I abused the Voortrekkers, I’m afraid. Used them, rather. Used, not abused.
I remember the tents: Canvas with sloping roof and vertical walls, wooden poles, rough hessian rope guys, some metal pegs some wooden pegs. Who remembers wooden tent pegs?
No groundsheet, just bare dusty ground – no grass grows in a wattle plantation. We didn’t pitch them, they were ready-pitched. We didn’t dig trenches on the uphill side, though best practice said you had to do that – though it must be said there’s very little chance of rain in a Vrystaat winter. I didn’t think the FrontPullers weren’t big on actual camping lore though, and that’s what I wanted to learn. I had American Boy Scout books and I wanted the camping and survival stuff, not the history stuff.
A few years later we started Scouts: 1st Harrismith Troop. Father Sam van Muschenbroek, Anglican dominee, Charlie Ryder, electrician, and Dick Clarke, electrician with the municipality, led the way. They gave up their time, skill and resources for us. Now that was fun. Sure, the uniform was also military-like, but it felt more . . . anti-establishment somehow. Had I known more about British army atrocities in SA and the Scouts’ beginning in the British army in Mafeking in the Boer War I may have had a different outlook, I’m sure. I hope.
But, ignorant, I loved it! The 50 Mile hike down Normandien Pass. A blind-folded trip to Nondela and a compass-guided walk back.
Being a Patrol Leader, choosing our name as Cheetah Patrol with brown and burnt orange shoulder tabs. Fishing. Canoeing. Cooking meals. Camping out. Sleeping out alone – character-building – that was a lo-ong night! Killing my first chicken, plucking and cooking it – character-building also. Building rafts and platforms. Watching a sheep being slaughtered – can’t have mutton without death, right? Father Sam of the Anglican church ran Scouts, assisted by Dick Clarke our municipal electrician, and Charlie Ryder, electrician and Dusi canoeist. Robbie and Wally Sharratt supported us and let us use their farms.
Good times, good people.
~~~oo0oo~~~
voortrekker – trekking ahead; pioneer
sluited aan – joined;
Die Groot Trek – almost mythical epic heroic trek into the interior; actually trekking away from the abolition of slavery and British rule of law, no?
A 1928 Chevy and a 1922 Swanie
The one is still fully original:
The other has had various titanium and plastic parts fitted, and electronic, leather and wooden accessories attached*.
Both were seen at LindiLou’s Tarr Roses Open Day.
.
*Titanium knee, plastic knee, titanium specs, plastic spec lenses, plastic lens implants, electronic hearing aids, Omega watch, leather hat & shoes, wooden walking stick.
Kayak the Ocoee
We hired a Lincoln Continental Town Car in Atlanta and put roofracks on. Dave the dentist and US paddler put us up for the night before we headed North. Chris Greeff, kayaking legend & trip organiser; Herve de Rauville, kayaking legend; two non-paddlers, Jurie the cameraman, Steve Fourie and me.
And off we went to the Ocoee River in Tennessee. Which was completely empty. Not low. Empty.
Then they turned on the tap at noon and we could paddle (most of the time, the full flow gets diverted to generate power! How criminal is that!!)
Here’s a description of the short stretch of river we paddled:
The Middle Ocoee
The Middle Ocoee is the portion of whitewater, on this stretch of water, paddlers and rafting enthusiasts, have been paddling for decades. Beginning at Rogers Branch and just over 5 miles long, this class 3-4 section of whitewater is an adrenaline junkies dream, crammed with waves and holes.
Entrance rapid gives you whitewater from the get-go. As soon as you launch onto the middle Ocoee you are in a class 4 rapid, paddling through waves and dropping ledges. It’s a fun and exciting way to begin your trip.
Broken Nose begins with a large S-shaped wave. Swirling water behind it will send you to a series of ledges. This is a great place for pictures, so smile.
Next, Slice and Dice: two widely spaced ledges, fun to drop, especially the second ledge. If done correctly, you can get a great surf here “on the fly”.
An interesting and humorous set of rock formations highlights the rapid, Moon Chute. After making your way behind the elephant shaped rock, do some 360’s in front of “sweet-cheeks,” then drop through the chute and over the ledge at the bottom.
Double Suck, an appropriately named rapid, where a good-sized ledge drops you into two hydraulics. Paddle hard or you might catch another surf here.
Double Trouble, which is more ominous in name than in structure, is a set of three large waves, which will have everybody yelling. This is another great photo spot. You won’t find an easier, more fun rapid.
Next is Flipper (No, it’s not named after the dolphin). Here, a great ledge drop puts you into a diagonal wave. Hit this wave with a right hand angle and enjoy the ride, or angle left to eddy out. Then enjoy one of the best surfs on the river.
Table saw was originally named for a giant saw-blade shaped wave in the middle of it. The rock forming the wave was moved during a flood several years ago, making this one of the most exciting rapids on the Middle Ocoee. The big waves in this one will make the boat buck like a bronco.
At Diamond Splitter, point your boat upstream and ferry it between two rocks. Once there get a couple of 360’s in before dropping through the chute and into the hydraulic.
Slingshot is where most of the water in the river is pushed through a narrow space, making a deep channel with a very swift current. To make this one a little more interesting, see how many 360’s you can complete from top to bottom.
Cat’s Pajamas start with a couple of good ledges, with nice hydraulics. After those, it will look as though you are paddling toward a big dry rock, but keep going. At the last second, there will be a big splash and you will be pushed clear.
Hell’s Hole is the biggest wave on the river. Start this one in the middle of the river, drifting right. Just above the wave, start paddling! When you crest this 7-8 ft. wave, you will drop into a large hydraulic. Stay focused because just downstream are the last two ledges known as . .
Powerhouse. Drop these ledges just right of center for a great ride.
Once through Powerhouse, collect yourself and take out at Caney Creek.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Bumbling Down the Grand Canyon
(early draft needs work – and being worked on as I find stuff)
1984 was one of the very few years since 1960 that Colorado river water from the Grand Canyon actually reached the sea. High snow melt had pushed it past the point where golf courses and old-age homes are draining it of all its water and it reached the beautiful estuary at Baja California into the Sea of Cortez ! Unknown to many, this also made it the first-ever time Mexico would have been able to taste Mainstay and river water. Well, recycled Mainstay and river water. Passed through the kidneys of a mad bunch of South Africans that Chris Greeff had assembled to paddle through the famous American Canyon.
That’s because we were on the river sponsored by Mainstay Cane Spirits and South African Airways. The “Mainstay” we drank was actually an SAA Boeing 747’s supply of tot bottles of whisky, brandy, gin, vodka – and some Mainstay cane spirits – which we decanted into 2litre plastic bottles to help the stewardesses on board with their end-of-Atlantic-crossing stock-take. We had resolved to drink the plane dry, but man, they carry a lot of hooch on those big babies (I spose in case they end up with all 350 passengers happening to be as thirsty as paddlers are?).
Fifteen paddlers from South Africa joined our guides Cully and JoJo Erdman on a trip down the Grand Canyon from Lee’s Ferry to the take-out on Lake Mead 270 or so miles downstream. We were accompanied by one other paddler, an Argentine José who was ticking off his bucket list, having climbed Everest. Five rubber inflatable rafts carried the food (and the Mainstay and a few hundred beers) and a motley assortment of rapid riders from America and SA. Talking of motley: Us paddlers ranged from capable rough water paddlers to flatwater sprinters to happy trippers to complete novices. Some had Springbok colours, others had a lot of cheek.
Some twists in the tale: My boyhood kayaking heroes had been the van Riet brothers, Willem and Roelof, who won the Dusi three times just as I was first learning about the race ca 1970. As I started to participate in the race Graeme Pope-Ellis was winning the first of his eventual fifteen Dusi wins. Both Willem and Graeme were with us on this trip. More: In the year I first saw the Colorado river (1973) by walking/running down the Bright Angel trail from the South Rim to the Colorado’s swiftly-flowing green water, Willem had launched a boat at Lee’s Ferry, done an eskimo roll and come up with ice in his hair, causing him to postpone his trip to this one, eleven years later – in the summer!
The trip was put together by yet another iconic paddler Chris Greeff, winner of more kayak races than I’d had breakfasts. One of the craziest races he won was the Arctic Canoe Race on the border between Finland and Sweden. About 500km of good pool and drop rapids in cold water. When he arrived at the start with his sleek flatwater racing kayak (the others had wider, slower, more stable canoes) the local organisers thought Ha! he intends portaging around all the rapids! (they’d heard of the Dusi and how mad South Africans run with kayaks on their heads) so they amended the rules: Every rapid avoided would incur a time penalty. Chris just smiled and agreed enthusiastically with their ruling: He had no intention of getting out of his boat!
Later: On the trip our American kayak and raft guides kept asking us about our sponsors stickers we had attached to kayaks and rafts. SAA they understood, but what was this “Mainstay” stuff? Ooh. you’ll see! Was all we’d say.
At ___ rapid on Day __ around the camp fire we hauled out three or four 2litre bottles filled with a suspect-looking amber liquid. THIS we said, was that famous stuff!
The little Colorado was flooding and massively silt-laden. At the confluence we stopped and had mud fights and mud rolls. I fell out just downstream and got some of that ‘water’ up my snout. A month later I had to have an emergency sinus washout!
Happy daze drifting in the current, lying back gazing up at the cliffs and watching the waterline as century after millenium of geological lines rose up out of the water and each day rose higher and higher above us.
Then you’d sit up and listen intently. Then peer ahead with a stretched neck and drift in a quickening current as the roar of the next rapid grew in the canyon air. The river was running at an estimated high 50 000cfs (about 1650 cumecs). Once you could see where it was, you pulled over and got out to scout it. Plot your way through it.
Dave Walker led the singing:
The canyon burro is a mournful bloke
He very seldom gets a poke
But when he DOES . .
He LETS it soak
As he revels in the joys of forni- CATION!
and (to the tune of He Ain’t Heavy)
Hy’s nie Swaar nie
Hy’s my Swaer . a . a . aer
.
We went down the Canyon twice
I always say we did the Canyon twice. Once we would bomb down in our kayaks, crashing through the big water; The second time was much hairier, with bigger rapids, higher water and far more danger: That was when Willem would regale us with tales of his day on the water around the campfire at night. ‘Raconteur’ is too mild a word! The word MOERSE featured prominently in his stories.
~~~oo0oo~~~
I recently had a letter returned to me that I wrote to my folks in August ’84, the month after this trip. So now I know the extra section of river we paddled was 21 miles. This after the Diamond Creek planned take-out point was washed away in a localised flood; I now also know that the trip across Lake Mead sitting back drinking beer and staring at the sky while a motorboat towed out the four rafts (one of which had 14 kayaks lashed onto it) was ‘about 50 miles’ – according to my letter).
BUT NOWADAYS we check such statements. I’m going to check how far it actually was. Aha! The total distance from Diamond Creek to Pierce Ferry is 54 miles. So no exaggeration happened in the telling by our boatmen and trip guides, who would’ve known. The planned trip was 225 American miles, Lee’s Ferry to Diamond Creek. This extra leg made it about 275 miles, or 440km over the 12 days in the end.
A snapshot of the level in 1984 from google earth.
Three kayaks weren’t on board this makeshift, motorboat-towed floating raft train: Crazy Chris Greeff, Wild Wendy Walwyn, and someone else paddled the flat water too! Nutters.
~~oo0oo~~
google earth will fly you through the canyon here.
Happy Wanderers. Again. Like Boy Scouts.
This time in winter. Tom loved it. Caught many small blacktail, karanteen, bronze bream, one shad and stayed on the rocks for hours. I had to fetch him and march him to the showers threatening not to feed him till he smelt civilised.
Jess and friend Jordi lay in their tent and watched videos. Could just as well have been at home. Then she asked to go home a day early, after four nights instead of five. Tom said fine so we got home today instead of tomorrow. Suits me.
When we got there Monday I found I had only forgotten the tent poles, the flysheet, the groundsheet, the kettle and the food, but otherwise we were Be Prepared. Like Boy Scouts. .
So we ate at the restaurant, the girls slept in the back of the bakkie, Tom slept on the front seat and I slept under the stars. It rained, but I was warm despite my ear filling up. Tuesday I went home and fetched the above-mentioned – easy when you’re holidaying only an hour south of home comforts. We were snug as bugs thereafter. Beep repaired.
~o0o~
Steve:
Get the kids to put together a check list for next camping trip while the discomfort is still fresh in their memories…. Tape it to the inside of the bakkie. And put them in charge of “equipment”
Yeah right, Just joking. my two would just roll their eyes…
(They both arrived last night on a flight from Auckland)
Ending the trip a day earlier – sounds familiar. I think it happens when the home comforts beckon.
Specially that new bathroom.
~o0o~
Kathy:
Thats so funny ! We forgot our tentpoles too once and had to crash on some poor chalets carpet as it was 4 hours from home . All five of us . very embarressing . But you beat me here ! Nice fishing Tom , Leo would be so jealous . Those two must fish together one day . And you know , kids, there is dad – killing himself and sleeping in the rain and they wanna watch videos and go home early . I can picture mine saying that too . I’d force them all to stay and we’d pull faces at each other for 2 days . You’re much wiser . We had this grim holiday in Port Alfred once where it rained nonstop and was freezing . J got flu and depression and stayed in bed . I tortured the kids for a week until J persuaded me to give up and go home . He drove back so fast and only stopped once for a sandwich – no peeing allowed . You win some , you lose some .
~o0o~
Four Years
Helping the Needy
Its really dry here in Westville. Our resident troop of vervet monkeys are feeling it badly as they glean the area for food. I decided to put food out on the boundary away from the house for them to ‘fortuitously find’, but since the jungle gym has gone off to the grand-niece I had to find somewhere to place the food.
I put it out in a long trail from the garden bench to the corner of the yard, spread out so the big powder-blues don’t grab it all. Try and give the females and teenagers a chance at it too.
As I turned round I realised I had been followed by the plump black labrador. She’d hoovered up all the choice bits! She’d left the fruit, but even the bread had been labradored. Ah well, I’ll have to think of another way.
I gave her the bowls to lick.
Sambucca the Needy
Here’s the dismantled gym on the farm with its new owner:
Scarface
Dad open up its urgent! Midnight at home, a bang on the front door.
Lots of blood all over him. He’s bleeding from a deep cut on his lower eyelid and a nick in the lid margin. My handsome boy is now handsome and, uh, interesting.
‘I fell against the metal deep freeze drawers.’ Damn! I’d meant to put those drawers back in the deep freeze. He and a mate were sleeping in the cottage on a Saturday night.
I staunch the bleeding and disinfect with gargle. It’s all I can find, we’ve re-arranged the house in the middle of renovations. Go to bed now, fella. Luckily only him injured, so I don’t have to please explain to any Moms of other 13yr-old boys.
Next morning I phone the ophthalmic surgeon on call. On the way to his rooms at Parklands hospital I say, “OK level with me: What happened?” I had seen shards of glass and found a broken bottle hidden behind the bed.
Two boys. A champagne bottle. ‘We couldn’t get the cork off.’ A tussle. ‘The wet bottle was slippery. We dropped it. It exploded.’
The eye man checks Tom and pronounces him OK. No stitch needed. Lucky lil bastids.
That was Sunday. On Monday his mates nicknamed him Scarface.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Happy Fathers’ Day, Daddy!
jessie’s card
