HARVEST TIME

The vineyards are now being harvested, table grape growers and raisin farmers and wine makers are cutting with fervor, and this work starts from early in the morning. On Gerrart`s farm at 3.00 a.m, when the world war two, siren makes its first droning call to the workers [and us!].
The grapes are generally cut and immediately trucked to huge cool houses where they are packed, and crated ready to load for the ports, in the space of a single day.
As a result, the roads are now teeming with vehicles of all sorts, Lorries carrying grape freight, trailers with harvested grapes and huge truckloads full of man power moving from one vineyard to the next, or to the pack houses.
We hardly see anything of our great next door neighbors, who are already working themselves at full tilt, to meet contracts, like all the other farmers in the region, for Tescoes/Sainsbury/ Waitrose, Morresons,Aldi…all the big boys. It takes, roughly 21 days from the moment the table grape is harvested, to the time you purchase a bunch from your supermarket.
Gerrart and Marrika have also to deal with the enormous[and immediate] success of their ski club and chalets, which have took off from the moment that they first advertised.
The farmers continually keep an eye on the weather, which is currently turbulent, it is unusually humid, and each evening threatening black clouds collect, winds pick up and storms begin. The farmers don’t mind rain in the evenings, they are unable to harvest in the rain so its arrival during the morning to mid afternoon is dreaded.. The farmers live in real fear of hail storms, which CAN and DO happen, great walloping knobs of ice hurtling down on their crops from hundreds of feet above it bruises the crop rendering it completely useless.
Here, all of a sudden the Northern Cape, is a hive of feverish activity, mixed with a palpable sense of great tension.
This will last until the end of Jan for table grape growers and until the middle of April for raisin growers and vintners. Since many farmers spread their crops over these three types of vines November through to April, is an anxious six months. Recovery of the entire inset cost for the preceding 6 months and any potential profit is now dependant upon the weather, and only then, then further perils of the economic climate kick in!



TRIP TO JO BERG

Jo Burg is app. 900 kilometers North East of Up and on Monday at about 1.00 pm, Bossy and I set of in this direction, having been warned to take great care as the roads are not of the same quality as those that we regularly use to go Southwards towards the Cape.
In my handbag, I had packed the first of my reading challenges whilst in ZA. The Count of Monte Christo… never having read this book [along with many other “classics”] I have vowed that whilst in South Africa, I shall happily trawl through as many as I can. Will report on my progress.

Setting the vast tome of Dumas aside for the moment, I chose to watch the the landscape which changes rapidly from the red earth and grey green scrubland flanked with mountains, that we have become so familiar with. Here, broad flat plains of green, stretch out as far as the eye can see, in either direction, eventually appearing drop-off the horizon [ I can understand why people used to believe the world was flat!]. Horses, cows ,goats and donkeys graze freely here.[presumably until they reach the edge!]
Occasionally we came across a town, heralded by increasing amounts of traffic and trees and then buildings simply sprung up either side of the road. The first was Olifantshook [rough translation “Elephants corner”,] Big and I, were disappointed on both counts, neither elephants nor corners to be found. So, onwards through Kuruman
The roads on which we traveled had gapping potholes, the camber falling away dangerously into the sandy gullies either side of the road, which being unfenced, allow all manner of roaming creatures to walk freely on [and without having any respect for] the highway.
Rounding an unusual bend in the road, we came face to face with a small heard of suicidal donkeys clattering over the tarmac, goats grazing nonchalantly on the verges, and neat little lines of guinea fowl braving perilous crossings.
The N14 is an arterial route from Northern Cape to Jo Burg, and very busy with Lorries and all manner of large and/or over laden vehicles. To my amazement, we saw a large bull loaded horizontally across the tail of a bakkie [ the first picture from the rear and the second as we overtook], in the few weeks that I have been here, I have seen horses transported in exactly this way, no one bats an eyelid.




. To my relief, Bossy agreed that he would not like to drive this route in the dark!

We had decided to break the journey, and arrived early at Vryberg at 4.30p.m, a small town which is the centre of this cattle/horse/donkey land, and known as “the Texas of South Africa” [because of the vast number of cattle ranches here]. Staying at a very twee guest house [the room was decorated in a sickening shade of purple with matching carpets and curtains] called “Peace Haven” it boasted that all manner of wild animals could be viewed from guests bedroom windows, including,[ if we were very lucky], a WHITE RHINOCEROUSE!. Most definitely worth putting up with putrid purple lodgings.
However, this turned out to be something of a white elephant. The owner explained to us, that the game park backing onto her guest house, was owned by the municipality and was not run brilliantly, what rhinos had been there were sold in order to generate funds to feed the remaining animals [poor sacrificial rhinos], and as for the colour of the rhinos…this had been a type error, they had all been grey!. Chin on floor or what, the web site very defiantly said “WHITE RHINO”
We did see a couple of very scrawny Springbok and we heard a dog barking in the distance, this was the sum of our safari experience at Peace Haven.
Setting off at an impressive 7.30 the following morning we continued towards Jo Burg. Passing through Delareyville so famous the Afrikaans sing a very stirring song about it [very Boer and very defiantly “anti Pommie”]. Bossy told me as we drove through its centre that being Dutch he would be fine but suggested I keep my head down…the words “red rag”and “bull” sprang to mind, so as we drove through I sang “God save the Queen” at the top of my voice.




FEELING SORRY FOR MYSELF IN CENTURION

I had called Eric, a Great Dane breeder, based just outside of JoBurg [in Centurion}, to ask if we could swing by and meet him and his Danes. He had a recent litter, and last month,had offered us one at R 10,0000 ,you may imagine our response, clearly thought he was onto a winner ,having bagged ,in his opinion!, a couple of “cash rich” ,Dane mad, Europeans. But by now these pups had already been earmarked for new owners, nevertheless, I wanted to see Eric’s set up .
He actually runs a restaurant with his partner, as well as breeding Danes…The house was an old, colonial style rambling property with a wonderful mature garden, full of huge shady acacia trees and deep herbaceous boarders.
At the rear of the property set in a green meadow with abundant trees, were his kennels, where about 12 Danes lived, two to each of the ample grassy spaces, each with their own summerhouse for a kennel. A happier bunch of Danes I couldn’t wish to meet. They bounced up, against their 10 foot wire mesh fences greeting us with yowels of delight, begging for our touch. Eric encouraged us to meet each one, and we spent a very happy hour, doing ear scrubbles and being leant on and dribbled over, by this delightful bunch., I fell in love with a big blue dog that reminded me so much of Mack, and Big fell in love with an enormous black “puppy” of 13 months old, who was already the size that Mack had reached aged 9 years. [ yes Pam, just like your boy:Mango]
Finally Eric asked if we wished to see his litter of 12, 4 week old pups.
How the sight of this litter of babies took me back …I sat with them under their shady awning and played for at least another hour, until Bossy became [quite rightly] twitchy about our bank appointement.Eric has a harli litter due at the end of Feb,he is not expecting any black pups{which is Big`s hearts desire], but will keep his ear to the ground on our behalf.
Eric seemed a little quiet and embarrassed when Edwin [in his own inimitable fashion] just went straight for it, shooting from the hip, and told Eric there was no way we would pay R10, 000 for any puppy. What was clear, is that this guy does seem to know his stuff, there is no doubt that he loved every one of his Danes and treats them impeccably well.
He did know of two adult Danes in rescue, one he described as a “backbiter”, it had been mistreated and now,aged 5, showed no signs of responding to a kinder environment, the other was 10 years old and was having severe difficulty with his back legs. Eric wouldn’t recommend either to us and felt that regrettably, both were destined to be euthanized, horrible word, but there is no way of softening their harsh fate.

I was so much in love with Eric’s Danes and his litter; I realize that I simply cannot be trusted to handle any of the financial negotiations concerning any potential pup/adult that we may find. In honesty I would have been tempted to sell my soul for any one of them!!!!!!!!!

Pam, you would have been so proud of me, preparing to shake hands with this guy { he actually avoided the hand shake and in true ZA style, lent forward and gave me a great smakeroonie of a kiss on the lips!!}, wishing him every success with his show dogs and with his forthcoming litter, getting into the car and heading off to the Bank in Jo burg…Deep in my soul, the visit made me firstly, yearn desperately for Mack, then regret, bitterly not having kept a pup from our own litter. By the time we arrived in the financial sector of a bustling Jo Burg, I was feeling utterly miserable, totally distracted by the “losses” and the very many untimely” Goodbyes” that the past few years have demanded. Big decided that the two of us should have a quiet lunch together before the Bank, and phoned to say we were delayed. There you go…..when he does get it right….. he gets it soooo right.


Fortified, we progressed to the bank, met all the people who handle his ZA business, who were in honesty, highly excited & quite distracted over the following days, corporate golf event. There was some question as what I was to do [not being a golfer!!!], a suggestion, that the bankers wife [who I had met in London this year, and entertained for a day in Oxford, along with her sister}, would take me around Jo burg, where I could get some “stuff” for the farm.
All very disappointing…… all I should say is “thank the Lord for the Count” [Monte Christo]…by the time we returned to Marchand late on Thursday night ,Big was still exceptionally touchy about having won a catering pack of toilet rolls for his teams performance at the Golf event and I was on page 798 of “the Count”. Not a trip either of us will remember fondly [apart from Eric`s Danes]

Back at the farm

I chose to venture the 90 klms to UP, again to collect MORE paint; more build stuff ,be very domesticated and buy a kettle, iron and ironing board, do a food shop. I now realize that a large cool box, filled with ice is essential, if I am to return with any form of edible goods from UP.
So hit the road at about 12.30. Having arrived there, I realized it must be Christmas soon…..”Jingle Bells” and “Good King Wenceslas” and “God Rest ye merry gentlemen”, all competing with each other, and bursting out of adjacent shops. The Christmas joy was almost too overwhelming to bear…coupled with 41 degrees of heat. and mirages rising from the baking tarmac.
How often I think that I`m living in some kind of parallel universe. It also occurred to me [rather territorially]…Do the South Africans not have their own version of “C C`s”?, how can they possibly understand why the good king looked out that frosty night.?.Further…. can they conceivably imagine what its like to set out on a one horse open sleigh, let alone understand why Holly bears the crown! MORE AND MORE BIZARRE. But the many people who were shopping were humming along & in great spirits. Uneventful trip back to Kak and Marchand beyond…avoided Vavavoom this time! Chastised myself for not joining in with the melee and cracking on with Christmas shopping.

We have Little`s first school report…[he knows what it contains so I feel free to tell}….it appears my smallest boy has the most impeccable manners, is very loving and kind, is a natural leader, he scores A`s across the board for achievement and effort …even in Africans and Xhosa. His downfall is presentation and organization…Having seen the state of his bedroom for 11 years now, this really doesn’t surprise me! …Bossy and I are so indescribably proud of him. We travel down to CT on Wed to join him and will join the other boarders’ parents for a “Christmas supper”, the following morning after prize giving at 10.30; he is dismissed from Bishops for his “summer” break….6 weeks at the farm….. I just can’t wait!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saturday saw me once again painting at the farm [none of the building workforce on site.] I have decided to paint our bedroom in an “effect”, it’s a paint that once applied, purports to look like suede. On the sample card the colour “Buckwheat” looks like a light honey brown .I ordered 5 liters of the stuff and began the first coat. This coat is simply rollared on and when dry the second is applied with a long haired brush in criss crossing fashion, to produce a textured effect. The manufacturers say in bold print that it will [miraculously] look like suede.

With a certain degree of recklessness, I began to roller this gluepy concoction onto the wall, it made me smile, as I kept imagining I was applying chocolate mousse. Same colour, same consistency.[sadly not the same smell].
I forged on with the first wall, completely smitten by the idea of dipping into this vat of liquid chocolate. To my horror, on standing back after two hours of painting, it looks like I have been moved to commence a “dirty cell campaign”…the walls look as though they have been covered in Kak!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. Quite apart from the major aesthetic concerns, a real practical worry is the fact that the consistency is so thick, that I have used ¾ of a tin for the base coat for one wall, with a further 2 to complete Feeling very troubled, I called it a day, wowing that I would use the remaining ¼, the following day to “test” the suede effect. Will make a decision concerning the effects “permanence” or otherwise when dry.

I have discovered that Binky Myers loves vine leaves, and to stand in the occasional ,[clean] paint lid full of water. His little head stretches upwards from his shell then outwards with joy ,if you pour water, gently over his shell [ either that or he is gasping franticly for air….but I think not, I’m convinced he is waving rather than drowning!]…I imagine, that much like our car…having dark coloured bodywork, in this heat, is something of a disadvantage, especially if you don’t have an air co button.

I made a trip into Kak to get my hair dyed, as it’s been streaked with very permanent white paint from painting concrete pedestals in our bathroom [the paint is called “plasticoat”] and if you want white plastic streaks in your hair. ….this is the one I would recommend. Several washes later and even my usually infallible “paint in hair removal trick”, of raking through it with conditioner and a nit comb…has not removed the stuff.
I have already mentioned ,how “well turned out” the women of Kak are…When the hairdresser, “Liame”, saw my streaks she shrieked causing everyone in the salon to collect around me and examine my plasticoat stripes ….as a rule the Kak women use the phrase “shame” after every sentence they make, its like a little “tag” word. ie “I`m off to the supermarket later.” .The other will say “…shame”. Or “ My daughter has her Matric ball gown ready” the other will reply “…..Shame”. It doesn’t matter what type of sentence precedes it [negative/positive or neither] the responders “verbal full stop” is always the same…”SHAME”.
For perhaps the first time, using it in its correct context, they repeated the word: “SHAME”, over and over again [Maybe they felt I should feel shame walking around with plasticoat streaks] After all kinds of ruminations it was decided that I should firstly, be dyed and failing this I should be cut….The dye did fail, however since a large amount of plasticoat is on the crown of my head, I drew the line at severe cutting, insisting that it would be a great shame to go for the cropped look, for the first time since I was about 6 months old!.
Suitably coiffed and flippy, [with shorter plasticoat streaks]I walked out of the hairdressers feeling very bouncy and thoroughly relieved to have salvaged a large portion of my hair.







LAVATORIAL DRAMA …….not for the feint hearted

One quick word about the heat, ….it has been unusually humid ,I have no idea of the humidity levels, but its been a stifling at 39, this type of heat, warms up any tank, pipe or reservoir of water rapidly, so much so, that it is too hot to place your hand in. if you want to run a hose, this needs to be left for at least 5 minutes until “coolish” water comes through.

Today I returned from the hairdresser to the factory and was bursting for the loo, however standing outside the Ladies, was a large group of 20 or so, workers, waiting to start their shift in the factory. Now the Ladies is a very skimpy room, and any sounds that come from it resonate clearly for those in the immediate vicinity.
I was so desperate, that I had no choice and had to go inside, in spite of the crowd outside, but thought to myself ….. as I was hovering above the pan, that I would flush the handle to disguise any “sounds” that inadvertently popped out.
Upon flushing, I had what can only be described as “an out of body experience”, and heard myself screeching loudly…….”OH MY GOD,OH, OH, OH, OH, MY GOD”…. I felt a searing pain across my buttocks as piping hot water gushed over my posterior with relentless force. Its not that my back quarters hang naturally low…you understand, but the toilet flushes incredibly high and somewhat ferociously.
In my vain attempt to disguise any potential indiscretion, I had alerted everyone in Marchand to the fact that I had just burned my backside. Hurling myself off the toilet, with knickers and trousers around my ankles, I fell forward against the wooden door [thank goodness it opens inwards!], managing to rattle the small “skimpy” building, quite alarmingly. Taking deep breaths and fanning my posterior with my hands, I was just about to brave pulling up my trousers when the door began to rattle from the outside. The workers had sent for the girls in the office, convinced that I was having some sort of fit . All eyes were on me as I sheepishly and very gingerly, walked out. [Yes……Of course I had pulled my trousers up!] I heard a number of stifled giggles as I slowly made my way past the crowd and towards the office.
I have decided that slowly, I am indeed falling apart. I have badly bruised knees and elbows, white streaks in my hair and now……. a burnt arse…….SHAME .

Stayed up until 12.30 last night to finish “The Count”, how I have enjoyed this romantic epic. Although there is something rather “dark” and very worrying about the divine Count.


COMPLIANTS AT THE “COMPLAINTS DEPARTEMENT”

To my great surprise and delight, this blog is reaching far more people than I could had ever have anticipated; I am incredibly flattered and delighted that people choose to read it and that they continue to do so, I am very happy for those that find it entertaining/interesting to carry on, as I expect to continue writing as long as I have a computer and access to the internet.

The blog is being written by me, very much from my own perspective, and for those whom I love and care for, and who I feel are a million miles away from me. It’s a way of felling connected to them.
They all know that I have a wicked sense of humour.They also know that I love Big [a.k.a Bossy] very deeply.

I have received criticism from unexpected sources, that the blog focuses too much on me,me,me…..Of course it does……… its me,me,me that’s writing it!

If these critics, would like Big`s [aka “Bossy`s”] views, please encourage him to write a blog, or email him or send him a text message, even call him.

Alternatively, please press the button marked “C O M P L A I N T S”, and leave your comments there.
If this fails to satisfy, then of course, please feel free NOT to read my blog.



Wed 3rd Nov The school run again.

We drove down to Cape on Wed, at startling speed, arriving in good time to check in at The Winchester Mansions ,don some “grown up” wear, and depart to Little`s school for the Christmas extravaganza”. We thought that the idea was, that we touch base with our boy, in readiness for break up the following morning, meet some of his teachers in the very social setting of a Christmas party. The boys were also to attend the party and Big and I were looking forward, very much, to sharing it with E.
From the moment of our arrival, it became clear that the “adults” and their children were to remain separated. They had to sit on separate benches whilst we watched the leavers [yr7], do their skits; they sat on a separate table at supper and after Father Christmas had visited at 8.0pm, were unceremoniously whooshed up to bed by Maam and her furious clapping.
Feeling very hard done by, Big and I returned to our hotel, looking forward to time with our little boy the following morning after prize giving, each of us realizing that we had caught nothing more than a brief glimpse of him.
Prize giving, was a great thronging event, taking place at the High school and involving every pupil, their parents and all the staff. Little was not to be found in the melee of people evacuating the hall at 10.30, thank goodness he had his phone in his pocket…but try as we might, despite being able to speak to him, we just could not make sense of what he was saying, what was clear was that he had no idea where he was and that he was terribly confused!. After 10 minutes we found him, as I lent forward to give him a cuddle, I could feel an unusual heat radiating from him, his eyes were red and he could hardly string two words together.

He said he was feeling very, very ill , one touch of his forehead revealed a steaming temperature.
Rapidly into the air co of the car, a quick stop at a pharmacy for disprin, and plenty of cool water, after about an hour he fell asleep and continued in and out of the same, for the time it took us to get home at about 8.00pm. Clearly unwell, I decided our first trip to the doctor was required the following morning…I was very troubled by his rasping coughing and the accompanying wincing whenever this occurred. Air co on for the duration of a turbulent night. [ I am concerned that air co is not a healthy solution, but in this heat of around 40 degrees, it is a must for the effective management of a temperature].
The doctor didn’t take long to diagnose Little with a very nasty bronchitis, and bitched at me for leaving it so long before I brought him in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [ I don’t know a Mum that doesn’t feel guilty for much of the time for one reason or another…but this was most defiantly below the belt]. Somehow I didn’t rise to the bait; I was more concerned with getting Little some drugs!.

Poor Little, has been vaguely aware of his return home, through his almost delirious state, and I am left feeling very concerned about his condition and praying those antibiotics kick in soon, also incandescent with rage, he has managed to explain the circumstances of his illness, and despite attempts to explain how unwell he was feeling on Sunday night,[!!!!!!!} the school insisted that he should go to “Camp” on Monday morning for two days. this involved two 17km walks which he was “encouraged “ to partake in despite throwing up for much of Monday night when [I hope that he was not in a similar state to that in which we found him, after prize giving,] it was blatantly clear the boy was very unwell. A suitably furious email has been sent to Maam, even though she was not on camp with the boys, suggesting that whomever takes responsibility for the boys welfare whilst away…needs to know that one of their charges was indeed very unwell!

Tuesday morning and 5 days after he broke up, Edwin is finally showing distinct signs of improvement…the horrendous cough is still evident, but his delirium and temperature have at last subsided and his appetite is back…I`m Soooooo relieved, why is it that when you are in a strange country, stuff like this always seems a whole lot worse? .I really was very worried!
We have been at the farm all day, and Little, who is still suffering from great bouts of tiredness, spent much of it snuggled up in his bedroom, on the only made up bed in the house, in the cool of the airco, reading and drifting in and out of sleep.

Today there was mass of business at the farm, the lady who has made up the lions share of my curtains and blinds arrived to fit same[ very disgruntled that our bedroom remains unfinished. the paint still hasn’t arrived…AFRIIIIIIICA!], she chose not to mention the subtle shade of poo that I had painted it in.

Maans the carpenter arrived with my bookcases…they look great.

We unpacked about 30 boxes over the weekend, I focused on Kitchen and Littles bedroom, Bossy concentrated all his efforts on getting his cinema screen up and running…as a result he has been in a foul mood since Saturday as he can’t get it working. Engineer arrived today and finally managed to sort it.
As a result of spending a day at the farm I discovered that when all the air co units are in operation, and the freezer, and all of our other appliances, when the farmer [who currently rents our 4 hectares of grapes]…turns on the pumps to irrigate them, it overloads ESCOM`s system and we go down in style…within a very few minutes, the farm becomes the same temp inside as outside….this happened twice today, each time electricians had to come out to sort the problem. Added to this, by 4.00pm just when I was scrubbing the decks down in the kitchen, the water went off!!!!! What can I expect, We are living on the edge of a desert in deepest darkest Afriiiiiiica…..God help us!!!!!!!!!

Di & Loops, have to tell you….I went to get three large pieces of my work framed…two are for Big for Christmas and one is for the farm [ you have seen them, line drawing of Little bouncing ,photographic sections of Little doing same, a weird but OK colour study, I did at one of Sophies workshops]..the price to have each mounted [one double] and decent chunky frames that have to be about 1.5 mX 1m is the equivalent of 30 pounds each!!!!!!! The lady was almost apologetic and even wincing when she told me…I was incredibly adult and told her that I could just about manage the cost [ it being Christmas and all!!]. Am waiting to hear if they are ready for collection, and will report if they meet my expectations…you never know it could be money poorly spent!
I received at text [well Big did], from one of the “arty” girls in Kak , to say that she had just seen my work at the framers [!!!!!!!!!!, this is how it works here…nothing is private], and thought it was “byer,byer, lekker”, she said, rather strangely that she respected me even more now!!!!!!!!. Bossy read this text out with increasing irritation, because he didn’t understand what she was talking about and I wasn’t about to elucidate as it was his Christmas pressie she was texting about!.

Judging by the results of my various projects at the farm [of a domestic nature], great things CAN be achieved here, but everything has to be explained and mapped and planned and in the most extreme cases, constant sign language needs to be employed. Most people are willing they just need direction…Sounds incredibly arrogant, but those who are familiar with Afriiiica, will understand exactly what I mean.

I have been compiling a mental list [now published!] , of things in Africa that either surprise me [ in a good way] or that I am grateful for, In no particular order:

The vast sky scapes both during the day and at night, and of course the breathtaking sunsets and sunrises.
Quiver trees
The huge boulders that lie across the landscape here.
Air conditioning
Braai food…..starting to take to it now [but still yearn for green stuff]. Case of “Dawn`s revenge” when I start cooking in my own kitchen.
The Afrikaans word “Blicksum”, [just love it!, literal translation “Lightening”, as in thunder and….] .Usually applied to a person or group [in which case an “s” is added], but can be directed towards an object….used as a “gentle” swear word for someone/thing that has irritated or upset you. .. Forgive the pigeon Afrikaans: ie “those blicksums working at the farm, are taking their time”. I know that Taz will also love this word…keep practicing it Tazzy and we can compare “blixums” when I come back to the UK.
African mountain tortoises. [And one in particular named Binky Myers]
Local farmers, who are the salt of the earth, and who are just so kind.
A great percentage of the local black people who are now quite fascinated by us, having overcome their fear of Edwin & I…[well we are their worst combo: English and Dutch!!!]
Moses..I have to give him a line of his own…he is, quite simply….. a star.
Today I asked him if I could borrow his washing line to dry some clothes. When he doesn’t understand me, he does this flappy hand thing…a bit like Max Bygraves , and adopts his “big eye” look .
To save him, I usually resort to sign language, the result of this was that he grabbed my washing, raced off and started to peg it out….when I caught up with him, I was compelled to snatch a pair of Little`s knickers from him and insist that I hang my own washing out!! His wife,”Mamma Smallie”, stood giggling from the doorway of her “house.”

Little defiantly on the up…although he still suffers from sudden bouts of extreme fatigue, he is over the worst and, thank the lord and is starting to smile again. He will smile even more next week when the newest addition to our family arrives. “BONGO”, is a 9 week old Great Dane pup [black!].

The delay in posting this update is as a result of my not being at the office for the past 10 days.
I have spent the past week ferrying boxes from the factory to the farm, slowly decanting our possessions, they all look very different in their new setting, and there is huge comfort in having familiar stuff around, the first thing that I unpacked was a small framed picture that Jessie did when she was about 8, the title is “Mummy asleep in the garden, while ants make a nest in her tummy button”, it made me laugh and then cry pitifully, hidden as I was, amongst the packing cases and bubble wrap and newspaper.

Saturday 13th December

Just over 3 months since we set foot in Africa, and this morning we moved out of the flat and into the farm, tonight is our first night, and Big plans to test the braai and cook supper for us.

Kisses for Tommy, who is making great progress in his recovery….keep it up Tom. Kisses for Finn, who is “down and out” in Newcastle, having had his plastic swallowed!. and kisses for Jelly, who is with the hill tribes somewhere north of Gonda,in Ethiopia and who had her mobile stolen on the 12 hour bus trip from the airport. Kisses for my sisters, an especially big one for Tazzy, who, when I last spoke with her, was flat n her back with a suspected slipped disc.






BIRTHDAY BUMPS FOR Kelly on the 17th and for JESSIE AND TAZ on the 18th December [whoops….perhaps no bumps for you Taz].

Now that we really have hit “Christmas season”, quite regardless of our separate hemispheres, please accept my apologies for not having sent Christmas cards to anyone!!!!! Please don’t take offence, I simply thought about it far too late.
Christmas greetings and our very best wishes to everyone that we know and love.
I know that Christmas will magnify the need to be with my children and family and my dear friends, Rest assured that I am thinking of you ….and will lift my glass and send my love and wish you all a merry and joyous Christmas.,and an altogether “kinder” 2009 . From deepest darkest Afriiiiicaaa..
Love and kisses to all XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX



Apologies...all the photos that I had for @upload@ are refusing to do same,and I keep "crashing", will try the next time I`m in the office!

DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

RETURN TO THE FARM.

My journey from England was made all the more unbearable as a result of leaving my mobile in Toms flat in Newbury, on Thursday, when I dropped into say farewell.
I realized, only whilst boarding the rail air coach at Reading station and by this time, there was little that I could do about it.
As I no longer carry phone numbers in my head,[ and had left my phone book at the flat thousands of miles away]… communication proved a problem from this moment on.
When my flight arrived in Cape Town the following morning at 10.30,I did manage to get to Little`s school in Rondebosch and see him for an hour, before he left with his friend to spend the weekend there. I was delighted for him; this has to be positive for his” settling in “process at school.

Having started this journey at 4.00pm on Thursday, in Newbury, I finally returned, to a still waking Upington, at 8.30 on Saturday morning [15th nov], my flight from Cape being cancelled on Friday afternoon, forcing an unscheduled sleep over in Cape Town and early check in for a new flight at 7.15am the following morning.

Once the jet set down at Upington`s sleepy little airport, the long and difficult journey was finally over.
Thrilled to see Bossy and Beezle, who were equally excited …. Kissy/ licky and waggy, they wrapped themselves around me at the airport and somehow I was transported to the car and then to the farm, where they finally let go of me.

Greeted by the ever smiling Moses, who also seemed overjoyed to see me, trying to tell me how sorry he was and trying to signal me to see how many more baby chicks had arrived in my absence…it appears we are now hosting his chicken farm!!!!! He was anxious to show me something else but Bossy explained that I needed to see the house first.

What a fantastic surprise, the kitchen is almost fitted everything in place, painted tiled, work surfaces in…..looking very sleek , I have gone very retro …I drew several pictures of the type of kitchen I wanted, the theme being black and white, very contemporary, clean lines, no upper cupboards, lots of rectangular shapes and long floating shelves. Showed it to a local carpenter by the name of Maans, I explained that I wanted a white lacquered finish “like car paint!”…his eyebrows moved to the top of his rather balding head!, I continued to explain that I wanted long tubes of stainless steel handles, lots of deep drawers that didn’t slam…… between the two of us we have created the most stunning space…I’m very very happy, and quite rightly, Maans is extremely proud of his work, he admits that he has never made anything quite like it before, and is now very keen to work with me on my next project a set of contemporary bookcases. Just to give you some indication of how the prices differ here. This kitchen is large and includes a separate room referred to as” the scullery”, where the fridge/freezer live,and there is ample storage for all laundry/cleaning bits and several deep “larder type cupboards.The total cost for making all cupboards ,stone floor and work surfaces ,oven,hob/ white goods etc, has come in around :sterling 6000 .


The scullery is in a similar state of “almost complete”. There are doors on three of the bedrooms and two of the bathrooms.
The braai room with its semi circular fireplace has been covered in the beautiful “storey stones” that I found locally. These are river pebbles, a matt umber colour and covered in fine charcoal coloured striations, they look as if they have lines of fine writing on them…..

Both guest bedrooms at the far end of the farm have walls and ceilings and a roof. They now need to have their bathrooms fitted.
The palm trees that we had to move to make way for these new rooms were replanted and looking very sick when I left….have taken hold and are looking green and lush again.[thanks to Moses` obsessive watering.]
The hole being excavated for the pool had literally ground to a halt before I left, as they had hit the dense orange rock of the mountain side. In my absence, and thanks to Gerrart [he of the dynamite and the lake!],it has now been excavated ,
I was amazed and thrilled and it now feels as though we will only be counting the fingers on both hands to mark the days before we are actually in.

Moses had wanted to show me his latest animal acquisition. As we were about to get in the car, he began shouting “Missus,Missus”, and set off at trundling speed in the direction of the roses, where he scrabbled franticly in the vegetation and pulled out what I thought was a smallish oval stone…on closer inspection it was a tortoise…..this little creature does not yet have a name, is around a year old and is perhaps the size of a small coconut [but a little flatter]…each segment of his shell has markings that look like capital letters have been lacquered onto them.
Moses explained that he has found him about a kilometer or so behind the farm, on the rough moonscape land there, where only scrubby vegetation exists…so this little fellow had clearly lost his way.
Bee was fascinated and kept jumping every time this little creature stuck his head out of his shell. When we put him on the ground we were amazed at his speed..he would have out run Bee had Moses not fitted him with a damper of sorts, a thin but heavy copper spring about 9 inches long, this ..he explains [in sign language] is so that he can catch/find the tortoise amongst all the greenery at the end of the rose/onion patch. In practice, this little tortoise simply trails increasingly large amounts of vegetation around with him, that get stuck in his spring, so it looks as though there is a small haystack roving around the rose/onion beds.

How this little interlude made me smile, I have always loved tortoises. Moses says that he will grow up to be the size of a big microwave![ his words not mine], causing immediate concern that this chap might be destined for a microwave . Bossy sais that the local black population are known to eat almost anything!, I am inclined not to believe it of Moses though [ he is fast becoming a great ally to me]…in any case he will have a fight on his hands if this is indeed his intention.

As Moses had not named this little chap, I have been considering names to suggest to him and have decided [very selfishly] that “Binky” …..Binky Myers to be exact seems very appropriate. The name of a South African lady that I used to baby-sit fo,r a hundred years ago. Very glam, she used to garden with long painted nails
[Never with a copper spring attached to her backside…… but hey, poetic license]

“ALL OVER KAK”

Reception committee waiting at the lake [ Incidentally have a look on their web site www.lakegrappa.co.za it will give you some indication of the size of this thing ]when we finally arrived at around lunch time.Marrika magically produced a fortifying lunch as only she can do. The club house has also transformed from building site to fully functional club now, and on Saturday evening they were hosting another function for one of the local farmers and his entire family.
Edwin had rather rashly promised that we would attend a birthday party elsewhere that evening, in the local village hall. It was the last thing that I wanted to do after a long journey back, added to which the” birthday boy”, is the only person, in our 9 weeks here, that I have taken an instant dislike to.
He used to own the farm that we are to move into; was forced to sell it years ago to someone else. He can only be described as a large uncouth lump of an excuse for a man who can hardly string two words of Affricaanns together as a result of his permanent state of inebriation…[a bit like Dame Edna Everidge`s alter ego,whos name I forget…but 10 times worse], he has clearly had his problems for which I have a certain amount of pity, however he does not help himself with a “ world owes me a favor” attitude, his loudmouth ,and his disgusting attitude towards women. At 60, I am sure he is fighting a desire towards confirmed misogyny.
Having painted this very ugly picture, you will understand my surprise at Bossys suggestion…however he insisted that this man had a new woman in his life and had “cleaned his act up” and we would only go for an hour. I rather stupidly agreed.

The local village hall was set for about 300 guests, when we arrived, [apx an hour late as a result of my deliberate tardiness] and the “Disco” was bashing out Shaniah Twaine at top volume. There were about 30 people there, all looking rather embarrassed and then , worryingly, suddenly thrilled and then relieved to see more guests arrive.
The birthday boy was in full swing…already tanked up, slathering over every women in the hall, gesticulating wildly with windmill arms. As he passed us, he knocked my drink and slurred “get the fock out of my way”, I gave bossy “The look”….its a warning look that I use very rarely and it sais in very clear terms “UNHAPPY…..NEED TO GO”.

Bossy chose to disregard this, and five minutes later, despite some tactical mingling, focused largely upon avoiding the birthday boy, I found myself colliding with him and being stroked and slathered over by this gruesome drooling lump, who was trying to articulate how miserable he was at “losing” his farm, some 10 years previously!
I tried to do that very English thing of standing calmly, soaking up the comments and the whisky breath, trying not to quiver with absolute revulsion as he stroked the arm of my [regrettably silky shirt]…… all of a sudden I began to boil with rage.
I then lost the plot……..all my charitable thoughts flew briskly out the window, my support act for Bossy failed dismally and I heard myself announcing very loudly….”get your revolting hands off me” and then loudly towards a gob smacked Bossy “ I’m leaving right NOW and there is no F….ng way I`m coming back.” Turned on my heels, scooped up Bee`s lead…. and left. Rather irritatingly I didn’t have the car keys with me but I did have Bee, so we walked around the car park, pretending to look for wee wee spots, whilst I cooled down and where Bossy finally found us.

Despite his profuse apologies I was still shaking with rage, when we arrived at the club house where he was severely chastised by Marrika and Gerrart, I remained mistrustful of what might come out of my mouth, and I was given a large glass of white stuff, which did eventually help loosen my tongue!.

Now the illusion of some well spoken English rose is well and truly shattered.
Knowing how the bush telegraph works here…it will be all over Kak by Monday and probably most of the Northern Cape.
Friends of ours who were also at the party and who we met on Sunday, were deeply impressed by my performance { well she was, he was rather scared by it!]. Magda told me[ with glittering eyes!] “You have no idea how many women have for so long wanted to give that horrible man a mouthful…we were all cheering you on, and it kept the conversation going at that awful party for ages!!!!!!!”. Firstly: I never heard any cheering and secondly, her comments simply made me want to give Bossy another kick up the bum.


OTHER STUFF & Thoughts on the approaching festive season


In spite of this incident, from Monday I have holed up at the farm, trying to get a handle on moving into it and I suppose trying vainly to take some sort of possession of it. Very difficult with 9 or 10 regular building crew crawling all over the site and other visiting tradesmen tripping through rooms with gay abandon.
I decided that the only way of truly getting to grips with this situation was to don my painting clothes [I have rather a lot of them!] and get stuck into the mountain of walls and ceilings that need painting. I get very frustrated at the dawdling way in which the building crew paints. You’ve heard of the phrase “Its like watching paint dry”, these guys paint in slow motion, with no gusto whatsoever. If the results were perfect it might help, but they are not. So freshly dressed in paint gear, wielding a large emulsion brush I set to a suitably scruffy wall..
As usual, the sight of a white woman actually doing physical work causes raised eyebrows, and all other work comes temporarily to a halt.
I have grown used to the feeling of several sets of eyes, boring into my back, as I “ever so jauntily” paint away…they tend to get bored of the spectacle after about 10 minutes, but if Moses happens on the crowd, he becomes very gruff and they scatter like his chickens, he usually casts me one of his special beaming smiles and marches after them, throwing his arms about.
Yesterday I was painting the ceiling, at the top of a very ancient, tall ladder, in the entrance lounge. This room is, in my minds eye, my “ Reading Room”, as one, very long wall, is to be fitted with book cases, which the guy who made my kitchen is making for me, from a rough drawing I scribbled on paper…and joy of joys…it wont have a television it it!!!! Hurrah .
The height of all the rooms at the farm, are impressive…at least 9 or 10 foot, whether its because it’s a “single storey dwelling” { not allowed to use the “B” word}, or to do with heat ,I don’t know, but they are tall rooms.

Any how, standing at the top of the ladder with my behatted head braced against the ceiling, I watched in horror as I saw the top of the ladder slowly slipping down the wall, I didn’t look, but the aluminium legs of said ladder were clearly screeching across the tiles below me. After what seemed like an age, my downwards trajectory gained an alarming degree of speed, during which I decided that the best idea was to jump…too late…… with a loud crack, I hit the stone floor…copious amounts of dulux “Bleached Lichen” flying everywhere.
Feeling very foolish and with more than my pride injured, I lay dazed, waiting for workmen to come running….not one of the 9 or so workers moved a muscle. All were working in close vicinity, but everyone just pretended they hadn’t seen/heard anything!!!! I was amazed and rather irritated, as I know that if I had heard the sounds of a sinking ladder with accompanying human screeching [Jessie you will know the sort “Whoa …Whoa….WHOA……OUCH!!!!!”] I would have come running at speed.

I imagine they were all quietly sniggering to themselves, that I deserved such a tumble, for putting them to shame at the ridiculously slow pace of their painting..

Having disengaged myself from the rungs, I limped to a bathroom and washed the “Bleached Lichen” that had firmly glued itself to my entire body [including hair, as my hat had abandoned me at some stage]. Scrubbed up the floor, trying to ignore the pain in all my sharp places [knees/ elbows]. Grabbed Bee and left for the flat and a deep bath and to inspect the bruises. I have several very impressive ones and each time that I now I knock them, I am reminded there is no honour amongst workers here.

Bossy returned later asking what all the drama was about. Moses had called him at the factory, to say that although he had not witnessed the accident, he had heard that I had taken a bad fall, but that there was no blood and I was well enough to drive away …at speed!!!! [HOW RIGHT HE WAS]. So I received a severe ticking off from Edwin..rather unfairly in my opinion. However in Moses opinion “Missus is allllrrrright”

Moses will return to his family in Kuruman for three weeks over the Christmas period upon his return, he was to have moved into the “Big House” on the Campong,an area to the North of the Farm, where farm workers traditionally lived when it was a proper working farm..This site has 20 or so small cement house with communal washing cleaning,washing, cooking facilities. One house is slightly larger than the rest and is generally reserved for the campong chief [ in our case…Moses] all the big farms have them[ some better than others]. Ours is in need of a major overhaul and no one lives there at the moment. Its very spooky, rather like a small ghost town that you see in wild west movies. On my several visists,the only inhabitants appear to be a large family of mere cats.

Several of the local farmers have suggested that we actually make a house for Moses and his family on the farm itself. I understand that just the knowledge of his presence at the farm is a deterrent to any itinerant and perhaps, tanked up burglar. [ and that really is the only major threat here], but at the same time I want to preserve my privacy. I want to be able to walk out in my knickers and drink coffee under the stoop every morning, without having to worry about upsetting Moses. Some compromise will be reached; there is plenty of space around the farm itself to make a decent home for Moses and his family, its just finding a spot where we do not overlook each other out of “business hours”, and where he can house his ever increasing array of animals…A goat arrived yesterday….this one IS destined for the microwave!

Apart from day to day life, the week has been filled with thoughts of my sisters and my babies back in England and of course of Little in Cape Town [he breaks up for his second summer holiday this year! on 4TH December.].

Jessie leaves on 30th Nov for her “elective”, twelve weeks in Ethiopia, where she
is working for a charity out there, she will be with her housemate Jess, another final year medic, they have met up in London with representatives of the charity, and have been asked to take several clinics to the hill tribe people there.
It has been made very clear to them, that they will be working incredibly hard and should expect queues of hundreds of patients, once word gets out that doctors are in the area. They have also been asked to report back on potential sites for a school and gauge from the locals what type of equipment the school will require.
They will be traveling accompanied, but on foot to the hill tribes, with interpreters /guides and I imagine pack horses. I know how much Jelly is looking forward to this trip, her chance to do some “real doctoring” and make a small difference.
I feel very much as I did when she left for her solo gap year….worried. If you are reading this Jelly, remember my only words of wisdom from last time….DO NOT GO ANYWHERE NEAR MONKEYS!

Tommy is back in his flat in Newbury, undergoing the second of 5 more months rehab on his knee, he has just started to weight bear, on the injured leg, but it’s a long hard process and being the sportsman that he is, the inactivity drives him crazy. Too many boring hours alone in the flat and too much time to worry about his future rugby career. At least he is back in the UK and is reunited with Kelly, I know what she will be going through, living with a frustrated injured athlete. So I’m thinking very much of her as well.

Finn has decided that visiting us here at Christmas will not work and has delayed any plans until Easter. Disappointed..yes., but cool ……..yes! A boy has to do what a boy has to do!! My only concern is that all his immediate family are away for Christmas ,he did mention that he may well call my sister Jane…So be warned Jane, you may have an extra boy this Christmas.

My sisters have been so much in my thoughts, although our two weeks together were for very difficult and sad reasons, I realize that its not often, as adults, you get the chance to spend more than a few days together. Since my return to ZA, I have thought a great deal about our time in each others company and place enormous value on it. My love as always to them, I have missed them very much this week.

In view of losing our Mum so recently, Christmas is bound to be difficult for all of us. Here in the Northern Cape, there is no sense of the approaching festive season at all, maybe it’s the heat [we are up to a constant 39/40 degrees now, and being outside in the heat of the day is simply impossible, I am so unused to this level of heat [ even though its a dry heat],that every pore in my body decides unanimously to offload moisture…Its very unladylike,and the oly solution is to reload with plenty of bottled water.

When Little is back we will get the 8 large boxes of Christmas decs out of the factory and do up the farm, traditionally I do this on the 18th Dec [Jessie and Taz`s birthday].

Marrika told me last night that she has just put up her “life sized” father Christmas in her house, and her two little boys are desperate for me to go and inspect him.
Perhaps the incongruous sight of a large stuffed father Christmas , tapping his walking stick on their lounge window,singing in very “Bing Crosby” style “ Have yourself a very Merry Christmas” will do the trick [ he is battery operated, and in between tap’s, and Christmas songs, muffled guffaws of “ho ho ho” resonate from somewhere around his midriff.]…OR NOT!!

Bossy and I are off to Jo Burg next week for four days, he has some corporate golf day to attend with his bankers. Not being strong in golf, I will meet up with Dawn [another one!], the bankers wife and do “girls stuff!”. Bee is staying with her “other” parents: Gerrart and Marrika, who love her so much they even tolerate her determination to sleep on their leather sofas !!!!!, she will be thoroughly spoilt by them. How their 5 other dogs rationalize this special treatment of their guest, I just don’t know, they all have to sleep outside on blankets under the stoop, Bees new boyfriend is a wire haired fox terrier named Frankie,he pays us regular visits at the flat and even sleeps over occasionally. Such a modern arrangement!!!!!!!

Huge thanks as always for the emails and the letters [Marie], I really love receiving them. Now that I’m at the farm more often that the office, it may take me a few days to respond [no connection there yet!], but I will respond. Those who have sent me texts, I`m so sorry that I haven’t replied, ….whilst Tommy didn’t mind calling me in South Africa on my mobile…he drew a halt to replying to all the texts!!!! By the time my phone arrives they may well be deleted.
My Love to everyone
From deepest darkest Africa adiu
DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


PS: Moses, approached me rather shyly, and placed Binky in my hands, he made it clear it was a gift from him to me; he smiled broadly and then laughed a great booming laugh at my response …which made me laugh and then when the tears started to prickle,I had to race off to find a suitably green spot for Binks. It’s my intention to make a low coralle for him under the trees at the entrance to our drive,where he can graze freely without suffering the indignity of his copper tail.
I am now the incredibly proud owner of one small South African tortoise.

16th November

Have just returned from two weeks in the UK, our Dearest Mum was bid a fond farewell in great style, many thanks to all that attended, it meant so much to my sisters and I that so many of her special people came. She would be very pissed off that she couldn’t attend in person [never one to say No to a big occasion], but she was there in spirit. I will not go into detail in this blog concerning our loss, save to say that it is huge and very painful. She was very deeply loved. I wish my sisters and her grandchildren, strength and encourage them [as I am myself!] to hold onto all the wonderful memories we have of her, to keep us fortified until we can finally accept her early departure.

Friday 24th October

Little called on Wednesday night and spoke with Bossy, between the two of them they agreed that Edwin would come home on the Intercape bus this Friday, it’s a 12 hour overnight trip. He will return on Sunday night and face a similar treck back to school. Friends in Cape are delivering him and collecting him on Monday.
All arranged with me feeling increasingly wobbly and his housemaster clearly not entirely happy.
I get the feeling that something has caused this urgent need to return home, as after last weekends discussions with him, felt that he was feeling a little better…we shall have to see what the weekend brings. As I write he is safely ensconced on his seat on the coach and has just started his 12 hour trip!
Tommy, is into the first of his 6 weeks house rest or house arrest, being on the third floor of an apartment in Italy, he is hobbling around having to rely on his team mates for support, food entertainment etc. They even have to give him his daily injections of antibiotics and pain killers!!!!
[Apparently the Italians place no store on the value of pills] He says that the op went better than expected and the surgeon feels he should make a full recovery after 6 months of rehab!!!!



Today I received a call from my sister Taz, the sort that I have been quietly dreading [Poor Tazy].
My Mum was rushed into the J.R in Oxford with some sort of bleed last night. Having spoken with both Taz and Jane [my sisters] they say she is very unwell and undergoing a series of scans and tests to assess what has caused the bleed, at the best it is the bucket load of prescription medicine that she has to take daily ,for her heart.
My day has been full of thoughts of her and of my sisters who are dealing with the drama and supporting my Mum.
Horrible being so incredibly far from her, and from them, but she is with the right people and I know that being the incredibly strong bird that she is, she will fight like a tiger to get well. Jane and Taz have told her that I know how ill she is.

Having never placed any store on the power of prayer, I do have a belief in the strength of feelings to travel between loved ones. Without being able to be next to her bedside, I am focusing my mind on sending Shirley my love and messages of strength and recovery, and to my sisters to be strong and take care of themselves as well as our dear Mum.

Monday bloody Monday!!!
Tuareg still being held captive by customs. Eventually ,with the help of Bigs export agents, they begrudgingly released it at 12.30 midday [the time I had decided to leave for Marchand], VW boys managed to jump start it at the port and I was told to hug the bumper of the VW mechanics car and get myself from the customs zone right to the centre of CT and the VW garage….have to admit to coming very close to being sick, realized my timing was shot, worrying about Tommy and navigation and everything else….head starting to thump.
Whilst very helpful,the VW people said that the car would probably not be finished until 4.00 or 5.00 o’clock and at the very least I should go and get a late lunch [by now 2.30]
Sitting somewhere in Cape trying to force a sandwich down my throat, I received a call from some guy babbling in Italian [!!], when I could get a word in [and an English one at that] I explained that I didn’t speak his lingo and, after a long pause, he simply said…… Sorry, sorry…….. Tom, and put the phone down. Well that was it, I convinced myself that something awful had happened to Tom on the operating table. Frantic calls to Jessie, Finn, Kelly,none of whom answered, so I forced myself to leave sedate messages and tried to subtly do some relaxation exercises in the café to slow down my beating heart and thumping head [ Loops you will be pleased to hear I chose not to use the paper bag that I keep secreted in my handbag, for just these types of occasions.].
The car was eventually released to me at 5.00 by which time all routes out of C.T were grid locked.
Deciding to focus on the positive side, I convinced myself, this was to my advantage and would give me time to get used to the new navi system…to my delight, the other drivers were completely fascinated by the Tuareg with such a strange number plate and gave me serious respect in the traffic…maybe it had to do with the somewhat tortured face of its driver.[despite having repaired air co, VW, advised it would blow really cold for a week, until the system had settled]
An hour out of CT ,I received a call from Tommy, complaining that the 15 or so texts and messages had woken him up and that he was still very much alive, feeling sore and kicking himself that he not picked up more Italian, as he couldn’t tell the nurses he wanted to use the toilet rather urgently…… and not just for a pee. I suggested that if he shouted Grando crappo it would get the nurses running.
So relieved to hear his voice and know that he was OK, so spent another fairly jaunty hour driving.
Bossy called to say he had arranged for me to stay with friends in Clanwilliam, I gracefully accepted. By the time I arrived at around 7.30,I was absolutely exhausted, managed another quick call with Tommy, both of us now sounding equally brain dead. Joined my hosts for supper and beat a hasty retreat to my room.

Was out the door for 7.00 and now, well rested, was set for the long road home.
To my great delight, I enjoyed every single minute of the 650 km drive, great to be in a familiar and SAFE car, the route was so uncomplicated that even the dreadful satnav woman [The Bitch}, only had to speak to me three times.
So good to know that Tommy was as well as could be expected, reassured that I had spoken to Maam about Little`s worries, I just felt free ,free of the weekends upsets and tensions and above all, so pleased to be heading Homewards, this realization came as a HUGE surprise to me. I actually felt a burning desire to be back at the flat and in the little oasis that we have come to regard as our temporary home.
I won’t bore you with descriptions but I was able to enjoy the stunning landscape as I skidded along, stopping three times to fill up with petrol and coffee and field questions about the car with such a strange number plate. To everyone’s surprise, I cleared the factory gates at 11.30 in the morning, having put the Tuareg through its paces the last 180 km, on the straight wide tarmac road from Springbok.[ this is the road that the Audi and Merc manufacturers bring their prototypes to in the Summer to test their performance in the extreme conditions of the area.]

Weekend In Cape Town.

Car NOT customs released on Friday, added to which, some bright soul at the depot, who had never seen the Tuareg ignition system, had, placed the ignition key into the dashboard and rammed it straight through same, failing to understand that once key is in place, you push a button on driver console, to start engine.
Repairs to be arranged along with Air co and battery, as this is dead as a Do-Do,having stood idle for 9 weeks. None of this will happen before customs decide to clear it in their own sweet time. Perhaps on Monday.
Managed [at least] to collect South African sat nav disc from VW in Cape Town…..just don’t have the car to put it in!
Already in a stew about navigating around Cape Town/collecting Little/finding hotel etc.
Decided to hire a a manual polo without air co,[Huge error of judgment] in all fairness, it was the only vehicle that Budget Rent a car, had un booked on a Friday.
Just in time to navigate my way to through Cape Town suburbs to Rondebosch, [to collect Little].The success of this first navigation is solely thanks to Marikas instance, on Thursday night, that I take her mobile satnav [just in case..best laid plans and all that!]How right she was.

Picked up Little from school, very happy to see each other. Plenty of big cuddles, and he was full of bravado about his first two weeks of boarding.[ Stiff upper lip or what, I knew that the truth would either burst out or eek at at some point over the weekend.]
The hotel we had booked, was about 15 kilometers to the north west of C.T and on the beach[Bossys recommendation], With the aid of Marikas sat nav and Littles brilliant sense of direction, we did find it, but, after my loosing the plot several times…11 year old boys love to fiddle with all things electronic and he became worryingly obsessed with the sat nav,within seconds of getting in the car .
I was in such a lather by this time,[added to which the heat in the car was oppressive as a result of the lack of air co] if Edwin even looked the sat nav I would screech at him …JUST DON’T GO THERE!!. By the time we arrived at the hotel, he was doing teenage rolly eyes at me, and I was like a spitting serpent, and both of us had sweat rolling from our brows. [Couldn’t open the windows because we couldn’t hear sat nav instructions!]
A glass of wine [or two!]over supper helped.
As promised it was Edwins weekend and having given Saturdays activities a great deal of thought, he opted to go to Century City, a huge shopping mall and theme park, the following day.
I went to bed with tummy churning at the thought of driving through C.T again and finding this place. Also very conscious that it was Finns 20th birthday the next day , and Tommy was due to have his operation on Monday [lots of emotional stuff starting to bubble] However, determined not to spoil our weekend, gave myself a good mental slapping and resolved not to allow myself to get so stressed over the navigational issues again.

On Saturday,Little & I DID have a great day, we managed to talk with Finn and Tommy at breakfast time, and I managed to remain calm throughout the tortuous day [only for me,Little was in heaven!] at the huge mall and theme park, we returned safely to the hotel in time to swim, walk on the ever so white beach and watch a stunning sunset over Cape Town before departing for a Thai restaurant on the beach , just down from the hotel.. It was at this point Little decided that he would reveal the true depth of his despair….so sad. Whilst the boarding element is different he seems to be holding his own, however he is so conscious of handling a new language that his other work has backlogged….. further…. being the chatterbox that he is, has managed to accumulate 4 punishments during the week for talking in class. To his complete horror these punishments were generated by the boys that he considered he had made friends with, and who are positively encouraged to [in Edwin speak] snitch on each other. He was overwhelmed by the work that he had to do and by the sudden realization that he couldn’t trust anyone. Even the little Thai waitresses were weeping for him. I was torn between feeling so sorry for him and reminding him that the answer to his immediate problems lay in NOT talking in class.
Having discussed the situation for some time, he resolved to not talk in class, re focus on the outstanding work and forgive his friends for something that the school demands of them [he refuses outright, to tow the line on snitching on his friends though] I resolved to have a chat to Ham [whoops Maam] on Sunday night and then talk with his housemaster during the week. So tears were dried and we jointly decided to make the best of the rest of the weekend.

Sunday we managed to find our Polo parked [quite accidentally] next to a huge Lamborghini garage, in the middle of C.T ..Little in heaven!!, then off to the aquarium in C.T which is just fab,after a late lunch we returned to the hotel and suddenly the weekend was over, and along with its departure came the return of my satnav nerves…. torrid trip back to school ……JUST DON’T GO NEAR THE SATNAV!!!!
Long talk with Ham, whilst Little getting jimbos on, and I left him waving bravely at the dormitory window.
So much for the no tears rule, thank the lord the lady on the sat nav kept her head…as mine was elsewhere, during my route back to the hotel.

Went to bed, praying that Tommies op would go well and [rather selfishly] that the Tuareg would be released, because more than anything I wanted to be back in the flat with Bossy and Bee and find my grown up self again. Spoke to a very quiet Tom, who had to be in the hospital for 7.30 the following morning, and then to Finn who was busy getting ticket prices to ZA for his Christmas trip,which cheered me up a great deal. Resolved that the latest that I would leave C.T was midday for the 8 ish hour drive home,as there was NO WAY I would drive those roads in the dark.

STOP PRESS*****STOP PRESS*****STOP PRESS*****STOPPRESS***

OUR POSSESSIONS RELEASED:.

Wednesday 22nd October.. and by lunchtime the truck had arrived from The Cape, packed with our worldly goods which, once offloaded, by the side of the factory, looked like the lions share of a jumble sale.
They have taken a serious beating in the 9 weeks since they left Beacon Cottage.!

With the assistance of 12 inquisitive factory workers and a fork lift truck, all possessions installed inside the factory, [which is very clear of stock at the moment as we approach the end of the season]. When the farm is ready we will begin to upload and unpack it there, Bossy did not insure it,which I knew he wouldn’t, so I have chosen to be grown up about the losses, both immediate and those that reveal themselves over the weeks.

The factory workers, who do and don’t read English were fascinated by my indelible black annotations on the side of all boxes, they became like kids shrieking to each other…LITTLES BOOKS and BIGS UNDERWEAR & SOX, [whoops of delight!] it became something of an event..someone would screech, BEE`S BED and someone else would shout BIG`s TIES [yes a entire box!], the gang would all howl with laughter, finding something else to cause even more hilarity.
No one would touch the very strange large white popper wrapped beehive shaped parcel that contained my big brass Arabian pot…one of the moving guys in UK had written STRANGE ASIAN ARTIFACT, and the workers treated it as if it was some kind of Voodoo object, skirting around it, doing the very white eye thing that only they can do, treating it with great suspicion.

WEEK 5

The misery of last week has ebbed somewhat, I seem to have adopted a stoic attitude of: am here now and have to make he most of it ,and trust in those hugely important relationships with all those that I love and hold dear and who are now [in distance terms]..thousands of miles away.
Thankfully humour, is always the great salvager of despair and there is so much here to either give or create joy or to make me just titter or guffaw with laughter.

On Thursday last, I decided to travel the 90 km to Upington.[hereafter referred to as UP] To do a food shop, get out of the office, and try and sort out the third, of 5 bath/shower rooms.

Arriving at the factory I was presented with a list of Upington tasks, to add to my own, by various people who I did and didn’t know [this is perfectly normal for this area] and a full sized bath was being loaded & strapped down, in the back of the bakkie.
The bakkie has THE RAISIN COMPANY emblazoned down both sides with full contact details…it tickles me pink that if, as the driver or front passenger, you open your door slightly and lean out of the window, you are framed in the window, with a bold title THE RAISIN underneath you. I can promise that I looked like a raisin traveling to Up with a bath covered in flapping plastic, flagging my every movement. Regardless of this, I enjoyed the drive, the landscape moves from craggy bare rock mountains that rear up either side of steep and winding roads, to open flat savannas of grey waving grasses and then sudden gashes revealing the orange red soil with the ever present mountains either side, in the distant margins of your vision. I must bring my camera along next time… and take photos of the weaver birds nests that ornament the telegraph poles, great complex haystacks constructed around the T of the pole, by these busy little birds.

Up is probably a third of the size of Newbury. Hardly a thronging metropolis and from its centre, radiating northwards, a sprawling industrial area, stretching out to the airport…Uptonians boast that theirs is the only airport in ZA where Concorde could land [it was there just the once and didn’t stay for long!].
I had to navigate my way to the centre of town, find Pick & pay.Up`s version of Tesco , then to the stationers/bookshop/bank/Post office,then out to the industrial zone, to deal with bath exchanges, decisions on floor and wall tiles, order some wood from Lumber City, SA version of Homebase and then onto a shop that deals in sleepers [railway and mine sleepers!]
Remembering to collect 20ltrs of paint on my way out of Up`, and then some urgent build supplies for the house in Kakenstein {hereafter referred to as Kak!!!]…..space was going to be an issue from the start. By hook or crook I achieved everything on the list and by now THE RAISIN looked like a sharabang, down on its axles with 35 sq meters tiles plus grout /adhesive etc. 7 sq meters decking, a basin and taps all mixed with a weekly food shop and in 33 degrees, by the time I exited Up at 4.00 pm, I was exhausted ,looked ragged and having skipped lunch, promised myself I would stop two thirds of the way home for a cool drink and something to eat at a little pad stall [side of the road café ….this one being very quirky and not dodgy in any way].
Didn’t call Bossy and tell him I was on my way back as we have something of an unwritten law that we don’t bother each other with this stuff like this.
Stopped at VAVAVOOM pad stall!!!! Purchasing coke zero and a slice of what looked like apple cake,As a result of language difficulties, the girls in the shop packed it in a little take away sac so that I felt I really had to take it away and consume American style at the wheel of the Raisin.
Concentrating on the long empty road ahead…I fumbled through the bags on the passenger seat and grabbed for the cake….to my horror, it gave only the impression of a piece of cake from the outside, and collapsed horribly as I grappled for it, it was the stickiest ,sweetest,sloppiest gungy stuff that oozed its way across the seat and over my lap, continuing towards the steering wheel, the floor, my face… everywhere. In spite of the car being at full capacity there was not a single wiping tool on hand…within minutes the car became full of flies settling everywhere that the gunge had landed, and I STILL had to pick up some urgent stuff in Kakenstein…why is it, that whenever you don’t want to meet anyone. you do! so having tried my best to clean myself down I crept into the DIY store in Kak`.It seemed to me, most of the Kak wives were there, initially, all keen to engage me in conversation, and all quite unashamedly looking me up and down …So Sorry women of England … I have done you no favours, they positively puffed up with delight to see the state of me and then The Raisin.
Whilst I am not a vain woman, caught under the searing gaze of the fearsome Kak wives, I felt like a grubby little girl in a grubby big Raisin.
Armed with more supplies, I managed to hurriedly squeeze them into the car, and capped off my day by being rather heavy footed on the accelerator pedal, creating a serious tyre squeal, and nearly upsetting my load, as I exited the car park…. the shame. Homewards, towards the factory, as fast as my load would allow. … Here there were an army of men waiting to offload the raisin…Bossy with a grin that stretched from ear to ear…approached and casually flicking a trapped fly out of my sticky hair…. explained that he had received a running commentary of my every movement from the start of my day to its finish…farmers had seen the Raisin on the road to Up and in Up, they had seen me on the road..fighting off flies , and last but not least one of the Kak wives had called to chastise him for not making the run to Up himself and suggesting I might like to know where the beauty therapist was next time I was in!!!!!!!!!!!....FAT CHANCE.
This little story serves as a further reminder of how tight this community is. Although the spaces around us are vast, the community tends to look inwards to its populace, this appears to be part of a code that the elders of the farming community [also church elders], proactively encourage [these people are the great-great-grandchildren of vortrekkers or frontiersmen]. Keeping an eye on each other is, I am sure, a survival mechanism and in no way malicious, sometimes the community can be a little overzealous in their attentions. I shall be very happy when we are quietly ensconced at the farm, away from the gaze of the Kakenstonians!

Marika and Gerrart [our current landlord and lady] provide a small oasis of retreat from this gaze, they can only be described as individualists, doing stuff, very much in their own style, and they seem not to be swayed by the critical gaze of their community.
These are the guys who, having a son that showed promise as a water skier, became frustrated at supporting his slalom practice in The Orange River [!!!!!], and decided the only answer was to dynamite a hole into the mountain behind their farm and create a man made lake, …this they have done ,800 meters long X 50 meters wide.[ Interesting fact: he loses 500,000 liters a day through evaporation as a result of the heat!]
Nevertheless, a vast stretch of water, which will shortly achieve National status as a water sports venue, but most particularly have national water ski slalom credentials. They have their first national competition here in March… bringing much attention [and business] to the area,. Four guest houses are sandwiched between the semi desert and Game reserve to one end of the lake, and a large club house, to the other.
Much of this weekend, was spent with them by the sides of the lake, dipping in and out of the water, Bossy has moored his jet ski here, so he did all his very best tricks on that!!! Encouraging me to have a go, which I did! Its one of those stand up ones which when driven well, looks as though you are scudding effortlessly and rather elegantly over the water on a hover board, when driven badly looks like a sack of potatoes slopping around on a mill pond, you may guess what I looked like..But hey, I gave it a go!!!

Weekends are about informal socializing with others, no formal invitations are issued, it appears that the Braai holder simply mentions to a few friends it will take place at his house/farm/field and people simply turn up, they bring 2 large cool boxes, one full of cool drinks/alcoholic drinks and ice the other full of meats to braai with. The braai holder’s wife produces a spattering of salads that seem to remain largely untouched.
At a certain point, one of the men starts the braai fire [men appear to take the lead when cooking on braais…Bossy is going to have his work cut out!!!!], two hours later when by his meticulous study of the state of the coals, he declares it ready to braai,; the meats starts to be cooked. It’s generally dark at this point and everyone has become comfortably inebriated, and rather hungry.
The South Africans take their Braai seriously, the kids [boys and girls!] have Braai lessons at school and termly competitions, and a national Braai day!!! ..It’s regarded as an art and an essential skill for the Northern Capetonian man.
I am the girl who pre cooks BBQ food in the oven [especially chicken] and takes it outside to show it the flames, Marika tells me that I am forbidden to do this…as my newest friend, it is her duty to ban me from this abhorrent practice. Further, we may well have been pulled into the bosom of the community now, but sure as dammit we will be unceremoniously excommunicated if anyone sees us doing it. You can now see how serious they are. I have braai`d twice now [Bossy was working!!], just for the two of us to start with…first attempt nearly burned the stoop [thatched area that comes from the roof and which houses the braai area] and followed up by producing burned bore worst [farmers sausage]. Second attempt: 7 out of 10…TBones very edible thanks to Gerrart and Marikas gift of a digital thermometer/prongy fork ,it reads the temperature of whatever meat you have pre set into its computer…still think ovens are easier…but when in Rome!!!!

Thursday 16th October:

Things moving well on the farm now, the two new guest rooms have walls, and windows are going in. The new roof for these 2 rooms will connect to the braai room roof[ this is an area for outside eating, with a huge inbuilt braai. with one open side that faces where the swimming pool will be [currently a hole in the hill upon which the farm is situated] I imagine that we would call it a covered terrace . As to the main part of the house, electrics are in place, air co installed but worryingly not working. Kitchen being held up bay lack of work surfaces, which are being made up in C.T.
Curtains and blinds ordered for all rooms.
Bossy is fretting over the water system here, water is pumped from the river, through to a large dam at the front of the house …the name dam never ceases to confuse me as this is a huge concrete circle about 5 foot high and three X the size of one of those large plastic rigid sided swimming pools. From the dam, water is pumped through a series of filtration sytems,to clean and purify and make the water suitable for washing, baths/showers etc. We have installed a separate drinking water system in the main house. Bossy has become neurotic about making sure this system is working at its optimum and produces squeaky clean water [thank goodness]. Two separate companies have already been replaced as he was unhappy with their proposed management of the new system , until this is resolved…we will not be at the farm!
I’m so desperate to post photos of all of this, but we are still waiting for our container and its contents.

I fly for C.T tomorrow. Hopefully stage 1, of our possessions being returned will be accomplished…..the car will be released [you see Bossy`s priority!] and I have to collect it from the port, drive to the large VW garage in the centre of C.T, get its air co sorted [not working when it left the UK] ask them to put a GPS disc that covers ZA in, and collect Little at 1.00pm from school, from this point [and trusting everything has gone to plan], Little and I have the weekend at a beach hotel in Milnerton.
The deal is, that the weekend is his, and we can do anything [within reason] that he would like to do. Have to drop him back to school on Sunday night, so I will overnight in C.T and head back on 850 km trip to Marchand on Monday. All sounds fine on paper, wait for the update of what really happens.

Love to all, and thank you once again for the wonderful emails, I cant wait to get into the office every morning and check my emails and am set up for the rest of the day, by news…and valuable advice [Kim!!] from home.
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DAWN

The School run

On Friday 3rd we moved out of the guest house and into our new next door neighbours accommodation, varyingly called the flat and or the cottage. A two bed single storey block next to their office. Not as pretty or sophisticated as the guest house, but enough room in which to swing a Great Dane . And to Little`s delight, a small kitchen [I haven’t cooked for a month now!] a little more privacy. We are about 2 kilometers from our farm, so that popping over to keep an eye on progress will be easier.
Gerrart and Marika are delightfully eccentric and enormous fun [they of the pair of Namibian giraffe]…very relaxed about her ladyship, in particular her toilet habits!!!!!!!!! She has decided that she is really only comfortable to perform on grass .and there is so very little of it about. Some farmers have had special lawns planted…Gerrart and Marika included…a thick 1 acre of lawn, sprinkled every couple of hours with water diverted from the canal and their table grape crop, in front of their incongruous Palladian villa style farm house and now liberally peppered with Dane poo, which they refuse to allow us to clear telling us quite convincingly, its great fertilizer [I’m going to have to head out with a black bag & a shovel under cover of darkness]


On Sunday, we deposited her ladyship at Magda and Niki Van Zyles farm, a palpable degree of excitement there, as they has never had a House dog before. Bee, of course, knew we were about to leave her and settled onto her little piece of England [an increasingly dusty piece of black vet bed, that urgently needs a good wash now!] giving us evils.

Departed from Marchand at 11.00 am.Looming in the back of the company bakkie [open backed Toyota Hylux!]was Little`s huge suitcase, carefully packed with all his new school uni, a paltry, 3 sets of civvies: i.e. three T shirts and three pairs of shorts [all that is allowed for termly boarders], and various bathroom fitting that needed to be exchanged in C.T.
Our drive down to the Cape was stunning, the dry stony landscape from Marchand to Kenhardt and Calvenia, with its sandy colored flat semi desert landscape either side of the straight tar roads that stretch ahead of you for up to 10 kilometers, was liberally peppered with spring flowers that annually pop up and grow wild in this austere landscape, at this time of year. For those gardeners amongst you, great swathes of Namaquland daisies ,shockingly Day-Glo orange, cerise Lampranthus, and banks of Livingstone daisies ,all rather wonderful…even the boys were impressed.

This drive is something of a marathon school run, app. 850 kilometers from Marchand to C.T. taking between 6/8 hours, depending on how many breaks are taken. Not only do we need to refuel twice but min half hour breaks are essential every couple of hours to break the tedium of the drive. I imagine that perhaps the Wild West looked something like the this..but perhaps this is less green. On a Sunday afternoon, each of the small towns we drove through [and there are very few] resembled ghost towns, all single storey dwellings, clinging like urchins to the sides of the main road, with only the Kirk [church] punctuating the practical architecture of these little settlements, not a soul to be seen or heard, maybe the occasional barking of an unseen dog, disappointingly…… no tumbleweed.
Little and I could not believe how little traffic we met on the roads…maybe only 25 vehicles in both directions for the first 350 Km. Breaking down is really not an option here!
All still in good spirits, Little finished the book that Geordy gave him, and said that although very sad, it was the second best book he had ever read. [Huge thanks to Loops and Geordy].

Cutting across towards the N7 and following the road through to Clanwilliam,and its breathtaking dam, the landscape becomes greener with vast moving plains of grassland, herds of fat black shiny cattle, little white homestead type farms perched on the lower slopes of the mountains that form the backdrop to this greener altogether gentler landscape.



CAPE TOWN : ARRIVALS& DEPARTURES


Finally, at around 6.00` ish hot and dusty and tired, we arrive at the Winchester mansions in CT,. This is where we spent our first night on arrival in Z.A, and where Bee was offered 5 star treatment. With our complimentary fruit and wine in our suite, was a box of complimentary Boneo for her, and a personal note from the manager [addressed to Bee], wishing her a happy stay and a most welcome return!

All too tired to go out to eat at The Waterfront as we had planned, so we dialed 117 and magically club sandwiches arrived with Coca-Cola’s for the boys and a pleasingly large carafe of white stuff for me. As Little was the man of the moment, at his behest, we watched the latest Harry Potter movie…Big fell asleep!!

Crazy Monday, a million things to accomplish, most importantly to find Little 3X pairs of PJ`s, his Bishops ones, being holed up in a bonded warehouse in C.T, with the car & all of our furniture and belongings. The authorities wont release these until our visas are granted or we put up a substantial financial bond pending our residency status being finalized.[I am refusing to twitch about this and have handed over both the emotional and practical responsibility to Big on this front!] The only thing that really irritates is the lack of my extra camera battery, cables and software, to upload photos to the computer.

By 3.00pm [two hours before Little`s school check in time], we found ourselves at Cavendish Square [app. 3 blocks away from the school] a HUGE and rather racy Mall, Little starting to spin now, unable to concentrate on what he wanted for late lunch, what colour PJ`s he wanted, unable to choose reading books in the book shop. So I took over his decision making process for a while, suddenly he was a very small person indeed and Big and my hearts were breaking for him…Chocolate brownie desert and homemade vanilla ice cream went some way towards girding his spirits ,and we departed for Bishops. Greeted by a stooge [what those at Cheam would call a gappy], we were ushered to the dormitories and Matron’s domain.

The dormitory, holds about 12 boys in bunk beds, each has a bed which they have responsibility for making themselves, and a smallish wardrobe, which has to be stacked and hung in military fashion, with clothes following colour coded rules, and inspections each Wednesday. Matron helped Little with his uniform, making quite clear, all the while, what she would expect of him in terms of behavior and performance!!. Other boys started to arrive, greeting Matron as Maam[as in Ham ,and her preferred form of address],showing her conspicuous respect [ verging upon fright] . Edwin clocked it and we both exchanged subtly raised eyebrows. I have to admit to finding her rather fearsome.

After about 40 minutes of meeting and greeting, of complex systems and rules to try and digest, Little was caught in a turmoil of preparing for our departure [clearly wanting to be sick] and racing off to escape Maam [as in ham] into the grounds, to play before supper with his fellow boarders [ far more appealing].I asked him if he wanted us to go and he said YES!......So we did, all three of us smiling tightly and waving fiercely and all three of us wanting to howl, none of us did.
Big and I simply found our way back on the road out of C.T and headed back on the long return run for Marchand, hitting rush hour at 5.40….there was absolutely nothing to say…both caught in our own bubbles of despair and imagining what our little boy must be feeling like. Safe to say…not a journey I wish to relate in any depth, we arrived home at 1.30am and crept into bed feeling very breakable…God only knows how Little, was feeling.

Tuesday simply brought despair, utter misery at being so far away from EVERYONE, great pangs of missing Jessie and Tommy and Finn and Little. Such guilt at having blown this family into little pieces of shrapnel. Avalanches of grief. Big did what Big does and threw himself into a busy working day.
Why is it, that when you feel like this, when others are kind to you, it promotes an immediate precipitation. Spent the day too tired and miserable to stop myself from weeping. Even more guilty for feeling so sorry for myself when my children and family are the ones taking the brunt.
The only thing to cause any relief, was collecting Bee, I have NEVER seen her so enthusiastic and joyful in her greeting…she actually smiled for at least an hour and kept pottering up to me to remind me that she was still there.







STRANGE DAYS


Being without Little, magnifies the absence of all of my children, quite apart from being a delightful person to be around [mostly!], he somehow provided a very physical and emotional link to all my children. I have had to firmly pull myself together, reassure myself that I am visiting him for the weekend of 17th Oct, and call Jessie, Tom and Finn to touch base.
Heartfelt thanks to everyone who sent me emails this week, if I ever needed a demonstration of what lovely friends I have, this weeks emails are testament to it .They meant a great deal to me.XXXXX
For all those who asked here is a brief up date on Jell,Tommy and Finn:
Jessie has just finished a cardio rotation and is moving onwards to radiology, her elective to Ethiopia looms in December, when, at least she will be on the same continent as us, and I will hear her heart beating a little stronger in my soul. I know that she is incredibly busy in her final year of medicine and it’s in her nature to throw herself into work and her love of hockey. So this bird is busy busy busy. It doesn’t stop me from missing her.
Most of you will know, Tommy left for Italy the week before we left for ZA, his contract to play professional rugby for La Vorno, freshly signed. In his first week of training he tripped over an irrigation pipe, left on the playing field and injured his knee. His physio and team doctor insisted on 3 weeks rest and them a slow build up to full fitness again. Last Saturday he was in his first match for his new team…the knee collapsed .After scan, it is revealed he has torn his meniscus and snapped his ACL. His op to repair this damage is on 18th October [Finns birthday!]. This type of injury requires serious rehab and means his season is finished. What a heartbreaker…, when I spoke with him he seemed uncharacteristically upbeat, he was very relieved that he had employed the services of a sports agent before he left, it is this gentleman’s job to make sure the club support Tom ,covering his medical expenses and rehab and continuing to pay him for the term of his contract. Poor, poor Tommy.
As for Finn, he has managed to re install himself back into Newcastle and his Economics studies. He is busy working on his business idea and I hope {!!!] studying hard. Having spent the entire summer in his company, I miss his caustic wit, his banter and his undeniable charm. Huge thanks to Kim, who arranged some work experience for him. He spent a day, on a box at Lloyds, watching how underwriters work, and thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience.

**********************************************************************AS soon as some resolution is found to “the possessions in the bonded warehouse situation”.I will be in a position to provide some images with this b