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.