I received an sms this morning. I’m working a Sunday, the first in ten years! My locum is “having a small procedure done.”
Park at the bottom today; Don’t park at the top, there’ll be no-one there; Park near Nandos.
It’s from Bridget McGregor, my personal seventy-some year-old car guard; Feisty, never been married. “What?! I’ve got no time for men! Like them as friends, but I’m not taking any of their nonsense!” Actually, she didn’t really sms me herself – she got someone else to. Tommy would say “She’s got no technologe.” Hey, but she USED technology – and that helped me!
She let slip the first hint the other day that she might like girls, but has probably never acted on the impulse, being very ‘traditionally-minded;’ I lent her a bird book as she was going on a trip to Kruger Park in a mini-bus for a week on a Pensioners Casino Special; When I gave her the book she said with a grin that she would be “Keeping an eye out more for the two-legged kind,” (forgetting that both birds and chicks have two legs. She meant non-feathered of course). I just said “Aha! Me too!”
She took over from my previous personal car guard fellow-ex-Harrismithian Jan Kleynhans. Grog is Jan’s downfall; makes him wobble quite badly every now and then. He took over from French-speaking Abdul Karim from the Congo. Abdul is still around, he’s now Bridget’s supervisor, but Jan has emigrated. He has left the half-house he was inhabiting with his vrou and moved to the Southern Cape to be with his daughter.
Why am I writing this again? Oh, it’s very quiet on a Sunday morning in a mall that is more building site than shopping experience.
edit: Not too long after this, Jan was back. Uitgeskop by his daughter, he chuckled, ‘heeltemal my skuld.’ Has a mischievous grin n chuckle does my fellow Harrismithian.
~~oo0oo~~
vrou – wife
Uitgeskop – hoofed out; most likely drunk disorderly
heeltemal my skuld – totally my fault