– life – bokdrols of wisdom –
Wake up TomTom, time to get up.
Ah no Dad, just let me finish my dream.
OK, but fast forward it, fella.
Five mins later: Come on, up you get!
It’s about Father Christmas, Dad.
Well, to stay on his good side you better get up, my boy.
He LOVES me Dad, I’m his best client!
~~~oo0oo~~~
A letter from an earlier time – dictated to Ma Aitch:
The Great Occasional Downhill Bike Ride to Lilani Spa – The GODBiRitoLS.
Named after the fashion of the more famous GABRAN (Great Annual Bike Ride Across Natal), this one is much better! All downhill; Only a gentle 17km; Perspiration-free; Ends before tedium can set in at a rustic old hot water spring with spa baths! In which you can drink cold beer if you keep your elbow up and your chin just out of water. One inch in front of your belly button: Warm water; One inch behind your belly button: Cold beer. Kinda how I imagine heaven might be.
After, getting back out of the valley is done with the bicycles strapped to the back of the bus – kombi power, not pedal power for uphill travel. Nice and Easy!
This time Aitch drove the kombi, stopping frequently to take pictures, while I shepherded the unruly mob down on mountain bikes. Both of them. My kind of gravel cycling – downhill, downhill, seventeen kilometres of continuous downhill! Don’t ever have to push a pedal in anger. Nor do you need to touch your brakes if you can lean with confidence. Wheee!
The accompanying bus was fully equipped with bike racks, a fridge, a picnic hamper, chocolate bars, cold drinks and a supportive Ma. Luxury.
See another Lilani Spa bike ride here.
Read what I know of the history of this lovely resort here.
~~oo0oo~~
Years ago I wrote about my hairdresser then. She had more to do than my hairdresser now.
I went and saw her one day and realised I’d chosen the wrong time. Fergie was getting married to the porky ‘prince’ and all the ladies were glued to the telly, ooh-ing and aah-ing.
Bloody ‘Royal Family’ mania!
I can come back later, I offered.
No, its fine, she fibbed and set to trimming my locks, out of view of the Pomp-ing Ceremony.
Have you seen!? she asked in her pronounced Affies or Dirkie Uys accent.
No, not really interested, said anti-monarchist me.
Ag, Saah-ra looked so beautiful as she stepped out of the cart, she gushed.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Now my CURRENT hairdresser is something else. Saw her yesterday. Much less to do, but hey!
Presses her boobs against me; Stands with her thighs on either side of mine; Pats me tenderly; Fusses over me; Quite a performance. And charges me nothing! FREE haircuts for me.
Course, I’m married to her . . .
~~~oo0oo~~~
Aitch takes the kids for lunch at a Spur restaurant with her folks – Gogo ‘Ona and Grumpa Neil. It’s two days after their joint birthday – they turned 7 and 11, so it was 2008.
TomTom is wolfing down a bowl of ice cream he has FINALLY been able to wheedle out of his Ma. She feels he usually eats a mouthful and wastes the rest, so he has to persuade her before a wish gets granted.
His Gogo watches and comments: “My, Tommy, you’re eating that ice cream quickly!”
Well, he explains, We don’t get offered it much in our home.
~~oo0oo~~
‘As if born of you . . ‘ – exactly right!!!
~~~oo0oo~~~
We took the trailer and found a lovely campsite and settled in.
Tom was a mad keen fisherman and Jess loved the waves. Blissful. Peaceful. Tom had his first real fishing rod – a huge surf rod given to him by Trish’s Dad Gompa Neil. Jess was mad keen on gymnastics and swimming back then. Game drives were not as exciting – let’s go back to the beach! – but when I let them drive the kombi they were thrilled with game drives again. Such an easy-to-please stage of their lives!
While the gillie unties knots and baits up, the fisherman dreams of big catches: C’mon gillie, move it up already!
When we got back to camp from the beach fings had changed: The Boksburg and Benoni Fishing and Hengel Club had moved in with their V8 4X4’s, their caravans, tents and boats with twin many-hp Yamaha outboard engines on big traikers, and surrounded us! There goes the neighbourhood, we thought. Huge tents, awnings, gazebos, afdaks and wind screens – skerms had sprung up around big caravans and camping trailers, complete with large braais, TV satellite dishes and you-name-it!
Lovely people. We soon struck up a conversation with our nearest neighbour. The Boksburg and Benoni Fishing and Hengel Club had been coming to Vidal for their annual By-Die-See excursion for decades. The Highlight of Our Year, he told us. That night there was revelry and much smoke and brandy, but not too late – they planned an early start the next day to get their boats out to sea to fill their hatches and deep freezes. Serious fishermen, these.
Things settled and quiet descended on the coastal forest; then a big storm sprang up. A real gale. Soon the wind was howling through the trees and our trailer-top tent was a-rocking. I climbed down that treacherous ladder to check all was secured or stowed away, guy ropes tightened. Soon after I got back to bed I heard an almighty crack and the sound of something very heavy falling and striking a tent pole. Uh! Oh! I thought and listened, Dead quiet; then voices in the dark all around us, barely audible above the howling gale.
Soon a few engines were started and I thought “Here we go, they’re revving up their 4X4’s and the boat motors ready for a first-light departure.” Then a chainsaw started snarling and I thought “Give it a break, guys! Wait till morning!” but it carried on! Mayhem!
At last there was quiet. Next morning I hailed our neighbour: “Hey! Did you survive the storm?” He came scurrying over and in a hushed voice said “Yes, but Joan didn’t!”
Turns out a massive branch had fallen on top of one of their party sleeping in their tent near ours, missing the husband by inches but landing on Joan. A Durban friend of ours camping nearby went to assist, as she was a veterinarian. She had to give them the sad news that Joan’s chest was crushed, she had no chance and had died instantly. The police arrived, then a mortuary van.
Then the whole gang from the Boksburg and Benoni Fishing and Hengel Club, tight-knit friends as they were, packed up and left to accompany Joan’s husband home, the adventure over before it had really started.
We had a look at the branch: Now in pieces, it had been over 3m long and over 50cm in diameter and had fallen from about 10m up. What a bummer. As we watched, a beautiful green snake appeared on the sawn-up branch. Life and nature carries on.
We’ve always looked for the biggest, shadiest trees to camp under. Now we do a more careful assessment of where exactly to position ourselves.
~~oo0oo~~
Aitch doesn’t mess around. Suddenly a big marquee was pitched on the front lawn. What’s that for? I ask. We’re having a party, says me wife. Oh. OK. So tip-toe’ing discreetly past my half century mark is not going to happen?
Nope.
So I help the guys lay down a dance floor; and I carry chairs. And I carry chairs. Do we need so many chairs? I ask. Carry chairs, I’m told.
Then a minibus arrives and musical instruments are carried out – a trombone, a saxophone and a guitar – and one of the guys looks familiar. Big, braces, white hair. Mario!? I say / ask in amazement. Yes, says he in an Italian accent. What are you doing here? I ask, onnosel-y. He just smiles. I spose he’s used to that.
Mario Montereggi! When he’s not marshaling his Big Band, he runs a trio, Music Unlimited, for small events: Him on trombone, a guitarist and a saxophonist.
WOW!! Aitch certainly does NOT mess around!
The theme was Africa, but Brauer thought it was Out of Africa, and of course he took it literally. You know how he is . .
Instead of a solemn speech full of half a century of carefully censored praise . .
Terry and Pete sang a song full of scurrilous exaggerations – and duped the rest of the mense into singing the chorus! Everyone knows Billy Joel’s Piano Man tune . .
Then Jonathan and Aitch said some words and I had to correct everyone and put them straight.
~~~oo0oo~~~
onnosel – not clever; dof
mense – good people
0,19 whole carats! Aitch built up her biceps carrying that lot around!
Oh, well! We were focused on holidays in the bush. We spent lots on those, and on restaurant meals.
About eighteen years later Aitch’s ZEISS binoculars got stolen when someone broke into our home – actually a friend’s house we were renting. They also took this ring – she didn’t always wear her jewellery. She replaced the binoculars . .
Priorities! She had ’em right.
~~oo0oo~~
