This is known as a "klippiche" a sudden bursting upwards of a huge pile of rocks.This one is on the farm .I refer to it as our "mountain". At the very top, a name is carved into the granite :"R.Petersen 1902". It has been joined by the Klinkenberg/Evans names cica 2008 [but in indelible ink!]

Weavers nest in pine tree en route to Cape

Weaver bird

Weaver Bird ..still cant quite get over seeing "canary`s" in as much abundance as sparrows in the UK.

The trouble with living in the desert.

Since my last post, all has been uncannily quiet at the farm; the vines have drifted into slumber mode and are turning brown, water remains scarce and the gentle burble of conversation even more so. The odd workman is kicking around, giving some consideration to “lazy” paving the odd wall, any serious effort being spent wholly on sweet talking Regna to produce steaming cups of coffee [successfully!].
Moses is tinkering with the large holes in the driveway that were caused during the storm, and Bossy, in between his many other orchestrations, is applying much thought and effort to the idea of adding a pizza oven in the small courtyard outside our kichen, making use of an existing, if ramshackle braai, where the chickens delighted in nesting. They have now been encouraged to seek alternative accommodation, and we shall have to wait and see what manifests itself in their place, perhaps a drive in!
According to Moses, Winter is upon us, and he has observed its arrival, by donning replacement head gear on the cooler days!...its woolen and knitted and judging from its wispy tendrils, made from mohair,…Oh… its also stripped in bright purple and blue, which set against the very dark tone of his skin colour, makes him look as though he is perpetually lit up in neon.! Every time I see him in it, I can’t take my eyes from him; such is the power of the illusion created.
As Moses did with his “summer beanie”, he wears his winter hat perched upon the top of his head, and when he is feeling particularly chilled, he underpins the look with a thigh length, denim jacket with thick fleece lining. And under that?……always shorts, rugby socks and thick leather boots. These boots are Moses pride and joy, and standard issue, come Winter and summer..

I have been without a vehicle for much of the week, as the “Raisin” is in Up for repairs. Bossies need being greater than mine, requires that the “ NUT” is commandeered for Company business. I have to say that with there only being two key fobs that control the big green gates, even if I am fortunate enough to find myself with a vehicle, I’m not a “key holder” and have to rely on there being someone at the farm to let me out and then back in again. I shall get the dogs in training to press the wall button in the scullery that can also open & close, said gates for me.
I was able to make a “prison break” to Kak for supplies on Tuesday with Bossy`s bank card, and an hour at Marica and Gerrits on Wednesday .Apart from these outings, I have been well and truly stuck on the farm.

These huge rocks lie all around the edges of the vineyards from where they were cleared around 40 years ago,and never cease to amaze me , because of their size and their different textures and formations.

I have managed to get out onto the wilderness with the dogs every afternoon, through an unlocked side gate and was coping admirably, until Bossy decided to disappear in The NUT, golfing on Saturday for the day, and without Moses here to open the gates, I was well and truly grounded. Being without cigarettes did nothing to improve my demeanor, nor did finding every single gate on the entire premises locked!!!!! The dogs mooching around the edges of the vineyards..notice the Beefwoods that are here to provide wind protection.

Bereft of sufficient human interaction, I have managed to get bored and incredibly lonely and have spent too many hours missing everyone. How I hate feeling sorry for myself! With my spirits so low at the moment, I have had to try very, very hard to keep busy.
Gardening has always been a source of pleasure & comfort for me, so this was top of my list at the outset of the week, Moses looks on and shivers, as I breeze around in shirt sleeves and wax lyrical on how wonderful the weather is , around 28 during the afternoons ,dropping to 6-10 at night and first thing, this means that we have at last reached a very “workable” outside temperature and I am able to hit the garden, without feeling drained within a few minutes, looking back at these past weeks, I realize that my faithful dogs have provided me with hours of company, entertainment and joy! So much so I regret, not being able to bark! ..Give it time though…….

The trouble with tarpaulin

On Monday, leaving Regina to the house shortly after her arrival,[8.00a.m]. I collected the few gardening tools from where Moses hides them in the garage, and headed for the front garden.
Bee sloped along behind me, having seen it all unfold many times before in England but, Bongo is of course a fresher, and was utterly fascinated by the spectacle of me clattering along. He placed himself directly in front and sidelong towards me, finding himself tripped several times by my booted feet, as I humphed along, bedecked with garden implements and a huge sheet of black tarpaulin thrown across my shoulder [for debris].
Heeding my advice, he decided to follow me but within seconds had discovered that if he stepped on the corner of the tarpaulin which was dragging along behind me, he was taken for a fleeting ride, and then to his great amusement, I would stop abruptly, jangling all the tools.
Shrieking at him from across my shoulder did nothing to dampen his delight in this new game, he became progressively more daring, jumping with both front paws on the moving plastic and causing me near whiplash by the time we arrived at the chosen spot.
Once we finally arrived, I set out my tools and began spreading the tarpaulin …,

Having already discovered this stuff was a huge source of pleasure, Bongo decided to assist, but without having a scrap of understanding as to the purpose of my “game”.
I had just finished flattening one end, and moved around to the opposite one, when he launched himself towards the flattened end, grabbing it firmly in his jaw, and scraggled it for all he was worth. The more I pulled my end, the more ferocious and hell bent on “winning” his end” he became. Thereafter ensued a tug of war .
I was only aware of it being remotely amusing, when from the corner of my eye I spotted Regina, laughing from a bedroom window. Isn’t it strange when you realize that you have been unknowingly dragged into something that you had no intention of getting involved in…it made me really feisty, and determined that part of Bongo’s first gardening experience, should involve some “gardening etiquette for dogs”… Bee had set herself down looking like a great white sphinx on the grass, very serene and chilled, so I was hopeful of her help or at least her example.
Finally plunging into the least jungle like [and therefore most “un-snakey”] boarder, suitably mitted and booted, I was soon bent double, weed pulling, until Bongo joined me, convinced that I was looking for something that he should also be looking for, and on exactly the same spot…every time I pushed him away, he bounced back..eventualy peering into my upside down face and licking it ,with those generous wet swipes that only a Great Dane tongue can achieve. Within seconds I was on my backside and then my back and Bong was standing on top of me, licking my giggling face like a crazed thing.
Regina had decided I was in need of Coffee, and arrived to a scene of scattered implements, ripped tarpaulin and me flat in my back with a resplendent Bongo on board grinning from ear to ear, and wagging so furiously that my spare tire was sending Mexican waves up and down my torso!…We had left the house ONE HOUR AGO!!!! Clearly Bongo just doesn’t get out enough. [Me neither!].
Area of the garden that will become my "tropical border"!!
Subverting Pavlovs dog experiments.
Ok, second attempt, whilst Bongo was surreptitiously draining the coffee dregs, I returned to the weeds, busying myself for some time, aware that Bee had chaperoned Bongs for a walk around the garden [thank the Lord!]…lost in my small weedy world for ages, I had no idea where they had gone, nor did I really care…. all is fenced, so I wasn’t worried, just carried on forging deeper and deeper into the “Jungle”.
Some considerable time later I returned to my tools to grab a small shovel, it had gone!, along with the secateurs, the small fork, two bin bags & my beloved battered panama gardening hat , neither dog was anywhere to be seen. Why having the dogs there should assist me in the mystery, I have no idea but I called them anyway…within moments I heard the tinkle of Bongo’s bell, which he wears attached to his collar……
Just so as you don’t consider me cruel, its not a cow sized one. It’s rather dainty and about the size of a thumb nail. BONGO & his Bell
I’m not sure if I have already mentioned this, but I purchased this little brass, bell in Cape Town for Bongo, when he was a much smaller pup, as a result of his persistent attempts at lynching Moses` chicks, from the cover of the wild garlic bushes.
The bell was intended to act as an “early warning device” to give the chicks a fighting chance as they pecked innocently around Bongos favorite hiding places in the garden. It has worked, as we have suffered no fatalities, and Bongo is now completely “Chicken de sensitized!” .This bell places an entirely reverse spin on the Pavlov’s` dog theory, which pleases me hugely.
There have been many occasions that I have had cause to congratulate myself on this bell idea: these times have usually been in the dead of the night, when I have been standing waiting for him to “finish” in the garden….those with black dogs will know exactly what I mean! Or when he has seemingly disappeared of the face of the farm in broad daylight!

Both Bongs and Bee arrived at the place where I was searching for my missing tools [; he is starting to take on the role that Mack did for Bee. A “hearing “dog for a “deaf” dog.]
I stood and demanded if they knew where my hat, my bin bags, my secateurs, trowel and small spade had gone. Bongo watched very seriously as I checked all the lost items off on my fingers. He turned and sauntered towards the tall oval of thick greenery in the centre of the lawn that has at its depths a shallow earthenware pond, but I have never ventured in here, although the dogs delight in doing so.
After a little rustling and a huge amount of splashing, Bongo returned with the small spade dripping from his mouth, and plonked it down on the grass, clearly expecting my congratulations….receiving none, he turned on his heels and entered the oval again, returning, with the secateurs deftly swinging by their strap, once again they were plopped on the grass..
At this point he did get a response, the fate of my Panama was beginning to give me cause for concern…..so I flew into the dark hole of a jungle myself…only to be joined by two excited dogs ,jostling me towards the edge of the pool…. there was my panama, bobbing around on the surface, along with half submerged bin bags and bits of tarpaulin, I presume the trowel was at the very bottom of the pool. Snatching what I could I reversed out of the jungle shaking the hat franticly and shrieking in horror.
I have no doubt that Bongo is responsible for both the pilfering and the wetting. What do I do with this naughty creature? ……He is a meddler, a trickster in the extreme, a waster of time and worst of all a consummate thief. , it seems that no amount of tutoring from me is making any impact, even Bee struggles with him.
Unlike me, she is draconian in her treatment of him, standing for no nonsense of the nipping/biting/teasing sort at all…yet he persists…I have long since given up worrying about the injuries [all minor since the ear incident] he sustains as a result of her retribution.. he bounces back for more, time after time .
Bee has a two pronged approach to his wilder behavior, she becomes very superior and adopts what can only be described as a Queen Victoria look, puckered and aloof.
When this first line of defense fails to send out clear messaging, she makes her body small and concertinaed [it is possible I assure you!] ,and her face becomes incredibly ugly and intimidating as she reveals her full set of gnashers, and she moves with the most astonishing speed and venom, into “attack mode”…it still makes no impression…Bongo cranks up his attack and responds with viper speed, until the two of them are spitting and whipping around at breakneck velocity. With a combined weight of, I imagine, well over 100 kilos, its rather scary to watch.
There is of course a plus side [there has to be one!] I mentioned earlier, Bongs is starting to act as her ears for her, and the two of them do bobble around the farm very much as a twosome nowadays. When we took them to the lake last Saturday night, he played around with the other more energetic dogs for hours, but kept coming back to find her and kiss her jowls or snuffle her ear, before scooting off again. A great time was had by all, until we left and whilst I was busy making sure no tails were caught in the boot, Bossy managed to shut it on my head. Stars, watering eyes…..and a serious sense of humour failure on my part.
I do find Bongo and Bee’s relationship fascinating. …and I think Pam , you might have to do some LOUD dog whispering for me in order that I can get a handle on Bongs CHAOTIC behavior.

“Skelem”, the trouble with gardeners & a worrying corner turned.
Once a week two guys come up from the factory and make a very half hearted attempt at cutting the front lawn. “Jan”, who is a slight 5ft 7ish man of about 57 ,but who looks about 87, because he looks remarkably like a pickled walnut, most particularly his face..his eyes are little shining slits in an otherwise crumpled facade. For some reason I can’t quite trust Jan, indeed everyone here calls him “SKELEM”, which translates as trickster/charlatan, as I am writing this, the image of “ Gollum”from Lord of the Rings , springs to mind!
Skelem`s, much younger assistant is called Villam,a young lad as smooth and brown as Skelem`s is treacly black and wrinkled. The two of them, generally try their level best to shirk any real work for the 8 or so hours that they are here. So it has come as something of a shock to them, to find that I have been working in the garden. .As I am now starting to get some idea of how I see it developing, they have for the past two weeks, had a list of tasks to get through, which has not pleased Skelem, and he tries everything in his book of tricks to evade what he has been asked to do.

This week, they were engaged in digging a trunk out of one of the three oval boarders that punctuate the lawn. I am no fan of formal garden beds and plan to see these disappear into lawn, and extend all the deep boarders around the edge of the front garden to create something of an “encroaching jungle look”.
I have been into Kak and purchased myself some, leather gauntlets that reach my elbows, a proper fork, spade and a MACHETE, …so that I can really get to grips with a large area of jungle woodland. All these tools have been clearly marked with my name, and I guard them fiercely as tools tend to go walkabout here. [Its not just Bongo who does the pilfering either!]

I was busy digging, [with Bee and Bongo’s assistance as usual] when Skelem and Villam appeared. Skelem can speak as much English as I can Afrikaans, so the conversation that ensued was based upon much reciprocal body language and a large dollop of assumption.
Eventually after both getting frustrated in Afrikaans: he said :
“Missus No work” and then continued in his own language, making digging actions and shaking his head sideways vigorously.
I pointed to myself saying:
“Missus likes to work in garden” ,why I always fall into pigeon English, I don’t know ,but it feels right…I don’t shout though!...... faced with their blank looks, I shook my head and returned to my digging. The two “gardeners” continued to stand and watch me, so that after about 5 minutes, when irritation was making my back crawl, I looked up and pointing to my eyes said:
“Missus does not like being watched!”, they looked confused, and so I shocked myself, by waving them away, saying
“Go work, go work!”… That’s it. I have turned something of a worrying corner…I am now your typical white farmers wife, barking commands at her employees, and throwing them cursory hand signals. It worked though, and they both scarpered.
When I went into the kitchen later for a drink, I asked Regina, why they stand and stare. She laughed and told me that they come and tell her that I am working in the garden, as though she can put a stop to it. She explained that it is completely abnormal behavior for either a black or white woman to work in the garden, it being more normal for them to stand around waving instructions [ I went a little pink faced here!]….I asked her to explain to Skelem & Villam, that the sight of me working in the garden is not going to change any time soon, and they must get used to it, also would she suggest that it is not in their interests to stand and stare. Regina has taken my request very seriously and said rather proudly, that she would be “very happy” to pass my instructions on.

Around the front garden we have many different types of palms. Three that stretch around 30ft into the air, these palms have a thick haystack of very dead, blond crispy leaves, under a small green crown. The haystack extends for about 7 ft down the trunk, and then becomes dead single spikes for another 14 ft, eventually becoming smooth palm trunk .Bossy has been told that the only way of tidying these is to set a match to the dead palm leaves and let them burn…but to be sure to have water on hand.

Top of the palms "Before"

The trouble with palm trees:
Moses was adamant that Bossy should not set fire to the palms, and kept repeating “No Bossy,No Bossy” and wildly shaking his head. Bossy ignored him and carried on,

Moses was positioned directly under the first palm, …with the hose on full stretch [our water is back on now!].as Bossy lit it…in 5 seconds, hungry orange flames were licking up the trunk, jumping from the spikes upwards towards the haystack, soot and dust was beginning to fly everywhere, and the horrific vibration of crackling fire rifled through the air. Once the flames reached the dried haystack they took control, and soon a massive ball of hungry flames was spinning and roaring .Within another 30 seconds, flames were leaping a further 10ft into the air, seeing the green fronds off with a sizzle, the heat and noise was unbearable.

Moses was squirting for dear life, but the fire ball was an unstoppable train, blazing debris began dripping from the top and cascading onto the vegetation below spreading sparks everywhere and setting that alight.
Moses was covered in soot and water from having to stand so close and hold his arm and the hose almost upright to reach as high as possible [not high enough to save the fresh green fronds on the top!]..It was all over in five minutes and we are left with a tall smoldering and blackened trunk, with several black spikes where there were once green palm leaves. When circumstance allowed, Moses just shook his white beanie hat [now black] and cleaned himself down, rubbing charcoal stripes down his stained and sodden Pangbourne College T-shirt.
Bossy was convinced that this was a successful treatment and that this palm will re grow, without giving Moses time to draw breath he set to the second of the palm monsters.
Once again within seconds the entire tree was burning like a roman candle.
The palms "After"

Through the trees and in the wilderness beyond, I noticed a bakkie careering from the direction of our neighbour’s farm; it then skidded to a halt by the side of our water dams. Christo [our neighbour] leapt into the garden looking troubled.”I saw flames from my house” he shrieked by way of introducing himself…then looking up at the burning palm…. “Don’t you like the palms?”. Bossy explained what he was doing, and Christo remained very tight lipped. Here are some pictures of what was a very unsettling display of how fire can tear through dried vegetation.
I have no idea, if these two gracious if untidy palms will survive, but will keep you posted. My sense of logic tells me, that although a very severe approach; palms do suffer natural “burning” in the wild, from brush fires and survive, so we shall keep our fingers crossed for them. I will resist the third of the tall palms being treated in this way, it stands very close to a huge rubber tree, and I don’t want to even imagine the ensuing smell and smog from the fall out of that! Having exercised his impetuous nature once again, Bossy left Moses to tidy up, clearly Moses had been pushed to the limits of his tolerance as once he was quite happy that all remains of any heat were out of both palms, he retired, covered in soot and filthy water, to his rooms, and I didn’t see him for the rest of the afternoon

The trouble with tenants
For those who have asked, our tenants are still at Beacon Cottage in dear old Blighty, and had been unnervingly quiet for a number of weeks, until our managing agent sent us a copy email from them, this was prompted by our arranging for the pool to be “de –winterized”,[as stipulated in our tenancy agreement].

They complained that once the winter cover was removed by the pool servicing Company::
The pool was the colour of pea soup.[ no great surprise there!]
That there were golf balls in it ,[ being adjacent to the first tee, this is an geographical hazard].
That there was a sunken child’s boat at the bottom, in the silt, [thank the lord it wasn’t a sunken child!]
And horror of horrors, two ROTHMANS packets were found floating around…[which I pray that they fished out and dried, although they failed to mention if they were full !!!].

This is the nature of tenants that we have aquired, and it is incredibly wearing .Those of you who have run a pool, will know only to well, the major task of “de winterizing”. where despite a leashed down winter cover, the pool manages to act like a black hole during the winter,magnatising most of the contents of the garden, that are whirling around, into its progressively murky depths.

I couldn’t resist responding over buoyantly, pointing out that traditionally the pool has at its murky depths a range of big balls and little balls, half the compost heap, the odd plastic garden lounger, maybe a sun brolly, a perished face mask, the odd flipper, cartons of Marlboro and Rothmans, empty wine and beer bottles but usually an abundance of gin bottles![housewife’s tipple!] .A selection of carcasses from last year’s barbeques, a raft of frog spawn, and an army of grotesquely large chimera like toads, that have grown fat and “odd” from overwintering in the increasingly chemically pea soup, and who usually take us months to hunt down and exterminate. Indeed, if these creatures were not seen during the recent clear out, then our tenants have every reason to be afraid…. very afraid!
All has been quiet since my reply, and I hope that they are now reaping the benefits of lounging around a marvelously sparklingly, squeaky pool and their enjoyment is not dampened by shocking memories of its post summer condition, or worries of the chimera toads lurking in the yew hedges waiting to ambush.

School hair cuts, finals, revision , birthdays and the trouble with social networks

Good news! Little spoke with me from school during the week and was so bouncy. The happiest I have heard him since he has been at Bishops, he had just spent a happy few hours learning how to make a slide show on the computer and send me a wonderful little clip with accompanying music. He is also most anxious to see us in Cape Town this weekend, informing me that his hair is getting longer and there is NO WAY that he intends to suffer the shame of another school haircut…So comforting to know WHY you are wanted! Quite apart from seeing Little, I am also in most urgent need of “the city”,so we intend to leave as usual at 6.00a.m on Friday.

My poor Jell is hanging onto sanity,[along with all her other Co-medic finalists] as a result of too many hours hard at work revising, and writing, always writing, I catch her for fleeting conversations in between tube or bus stops, juggling her precious hours between revision lectures and tutorials and library sessions, where she prefers to work.
I hope that I manage to impart exuberant confidence and a little joy. It’s so hard being this far away from her, as the moment of her finals lurch towards her at breakneck speed, and when I know her mind is focused only on work and the nagging self doubt that always hounds her at these times.

Tommy has thoughts only for his birthday celebrations, a bunch of his buddies are spending the bank holiday Sun/Mon with him. I really don’t want to know what their plans are, but imagine Newbury may need to put some kind of general warning out for the weekend.

Finn is now through his first exam week and looking forward to a weeks break before the next tranche start…god luck Darling.

Huge thanks for all the emails and Skype’s and telephone conversations, since my last post. I was very tickled by SuperLoops and Taz`s emails and Vicki you have been a life saver as always. Belated birthday wishes for Loops.

“TAGGED” an explanation
Please forgive the millions of ‘friend requests that were sent out from my email account…they went to EVERYONE on my contact list…having possessed an email account for around 8 years now, the list runs into many hundred!
I had never heard of “TAGGED”, but received a “friend request” from Jeroen, Bossy`s nephew, so I checked the “yes I am Jeroen`s friend “box, and was taken to another menue, which infuriatingly asked me a series of questions which I half heartedly acknowledged, clearly unaware that I had authorized “Tagged” to plunder my entire contact list and hijack it. .I have just started to actively use Face book and find that complicated enough, so I really had no intention of enrolling in another social networking site. [Apologies Roony].
I thought little more of this, until I opened my email and had 22 replies from people very kindly saying yes they wanted to be my friend, the next time there were 32 responses, some from people that I have only had business contact with [YIKES]…I am excruciatingly embarrassed as looking at the “Tagged” site ,I realize that by not paying sufficient attention, I have managed to rope everyone on my contact list into something that they may not be happy to be involved in. If you haven’t checked the box yet. Please just delete the email. Whilst I am extremely happy to be Rooney’s friend on Tagged, I don’t expect everyone else to be mine!

.

"Little" looking rather big compared to his team mates!

We have just returned from a great weekend in Cape Town with Little, and it felt so good to be able to watch him play in two school rugby matches in Saturday morning, we also managed to get out with his friend Stephen and his parents on Friday night. so I was able to apologize to them for the state of their sons face [ quad accident!],and inspect the damage myself….still quite an impressive injury, but definitely a great deal better than when he left us over the May day weekend.

If anyone reads OK,[whoops it might be Hello], The Winchester Mansions are being featured in it this Tuesday edition, one of their people is doing an article on Cape Town, and it doesn’t surprise me to find that she stayed at our favorite hotel, I gather from Sam, the lovely Manager at the Mansions, that the hotel is to be featured .

Our return flights to the UK are booked,we depart on the 25th June ,Little,Jessie ,Tommy and I will return to South Africa on the 9th July. Bossy remaining for an extra week to get in some golf and catch up with business in Holland.

I am so looking forward to our trip..Little is already planning to decend on Cheam school and is desperate to catch up with as many of his friends as possible.

My Love to all, special kisses for my dear friend Dottie, who has a challenging journey ahead,and who`s news,has put my own idle grizzling into very stark perspective.

Thinking of you all.

Kisses on the lips

DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

HELLO !
So much has been happening to everyone at home, these past few weeks that I have turned the blog “upside down ‘, and am beginning, with greetings instead of farewells, which seems a far more cheery approach to me.

Marie, your puppy: Alfie, is a cutie and your letters are a joy, …so too, are all the emails I receive, and the Skype sessions. I constantly remind myself of how spoiled & lucky I am to have such great family and friends; After 9 months, I have become very accustomed to being wrapped in the threads that bind me to home, and it’s most welcome and very comforting and in my darker moments,its very sustaining.

Dottie. How much I have been thinking of you, and wish you a gentle recovery…take care and NO digging the garden for the next two months, no matter how tempted you are. If you want to take in some sun…lie on a sun lounger with a good book and a glass of something refreshing. Ice clinking and all that!

Di., The more I think of our conversation about how your Masters work has developed, the more bowled over I am , and the more I can’t wait to see it in the “flesh”. Crack on with it girlie….you see, something always grows as a result of all that hard graft, pain and angst!!!!

Superwoman Loops. Do remind Marcus he can no longer expect your wonderful cuisine every night, ANY decorating of the house is out. along with all housework and any ironing which you will now have to share, having a shared responsibility for the ironing, means that it is as infuriating for you, not to have an ironed shirt in the morning, as it is for Marcky. That it’s almost certain that you will need to fall into a comfortable arm chair at 6.30 with a large glass of something relaxing. And sometimes might “Just not want to talk “when you get back from the office”, preferring to spend an hour communing with the play station! Good luck Darlin…am deeply impressed..

Pam, I am so thrilled by your spectacular series of wins at South of England Agri show, courtesy of the very handsome Malcolm who is a star. I think everyone who reads this should know that he won his individual class at the show, and then swept the judges overboard, when every winner in each Great Dane class was pitted against each other, and he scooped first in “Best of breed”. This in itself is a huge accolade. He then went up against each of the 11 “Working dog” Best of breed winners. Who had all been through the same grueling selection process as Malc, but in their own separate breed classes.
Malc finished second in this class…Such a wonderful result and a major achievement for Malc and Pam.
Here is an unfinished sketch of the handsome boy:
Malcolm.[work in prog]
Amanda, I am still hugely appreciative of your explanation of why taxi driver’s hippocampuses are so enourmous. Every time I give serious thought to something..I end up thinking about my hippocampus!

A very happy birthday to Tracey on the 10th May. I trust you will be celebrate like a crazy woman.!

And for my dear Tommy, wishing you a fantastic Birthday on the 21stMay… Have fun with your buddies. I will be thinking of you Darling.
Dearest Jelly…...Head down girlie, Tin hat and flack jacket on. TIME TO BE SINGLE MINDED and ignore everything around you. In spite of this advice, it was a huge treat to speak on Skype for the first time…very tickled by your giggling.
Finn, keep up the revision, and are you eating yet?.
Little….Wow, what a great weekend, we will see you towards the end of the month in Cape Town. Did the aviators survive the trip, and then Maam`s eagle gaze? And I hope you have received the blog address now.To everyone …Hello, enjoy the May weather. I hope it’s a stunning May.

WATER….FIRST YOU SEE IT & AND THEN YOU DON’T.
For those getting cross with me about temperature “languages” 30c = 86F & 11c=56F

After living here for 9 months, I realize that water, here, is an immense “issue”. There being either too much, or too little of it.
On Sunday 3rd May, the municipality closed the Orange River canals for repairs, for two weeks. The canals are the only source from which we are all supplied with water, for both domestic and irrigation purposes. Everyone has been busy filling every conceivable container with the stuff. From their dams, these are the huge round holding tanks that every household possesses out here [see picture below, thankfully we have three] to large camping style water carriers.

It makes me wince to remember how freely I used to use water back home, just allowing water to gush willy nilly from the taps,& ignoring my outside tap dripping. Now I have learned to treat water with greater respect….the one thing I shall really struggle to forgo over this next two weeks…. is my nightly bath. Have no fear…... I am able to shower daily!…but plan to allow myself a sneaky bath ,once a week….. Such simple pleasures in life now!

Although our days are still beautifully warm at around 30c, our night temperatures have now dropped so dramatically, to around 11/12c degrees, that it feels cold, and we have dispensed the constant hum of the airco at night, accepting a more urgent need to snuggle down under the duvet. I love it……. reminds me of home!
With the night temperature falling, so the pool temperature has dropped, and strangely along with this dip in temperature, it has become difficult to maintain a working level of chlorination…. it keeps turning pea green. All very disturbing. I have to admit to having been disinclined to my early morning swims recently, solely for this reason, nothing to do with the outside temp being 12c! But now the entire swimming issue has been removed from me. Early last week, Bossy, finally made a management decision, to empty the pool, power wash the walls, and start again, and informed me, in a quite matter of fact fashion….he will refill using purified water from the municipality and NOT RIVER WATER this time!!!!!! What!!!!!...we have been swimming in river water for the past several months…albeit chlorinated, but nevertheless…river water….I have to admit to getting very shirty about this, particularly when Bossy is usually so “anal” about our water supplies at the farm. No one seems to have come to any harm, and it appears that he has seen the error of his judgment!
Moses and Bossy, have been busy emptying the pool, and poor Moses, who HATES water, has been encouraged to remove his boots and socks, and stand knee deep in cold green river water and squirt the slimy green walls down with the power hose. Moses LOVES the power hose, everything that can be, is regularly power hosed by him.
So I know that he is undertaking this work with mixed emotions, there is certainly a marked lack of humming going on. He was so cold when he finished, that he actually looked pale …soup was made to restore some internal warmth and his usual broad smile.
Bossy, insisted on catching him unawares with the camera. Judge Moses mood for yourselves!

Storm of storms
Last Thursday afternoon, as the dogs and I were heading homeward from a walk outside in the wilderness, the skies above us, began to turn from an unnatural deep sky blue, to an inky black, and the air began to bristle. The dogs were worried and unsettled, and it became clear that we were heading for a humdinger of a storm. Increasing our pace, we all scurried back to the farm. Waving, to a worried looking Moses, as we entered the green gates…...”Storrrrm come Missus”, he shouted, as he slammed the garage doors shut.

As we have so many full length glass windows, on all sides of the farm, you can, in relative “safety”, achieve a panoramic view of the land all around, and on this occasion, it provided and awe inspiring spectacle.
The storm hit with sudden and immediate force. Resonating growls of thunder, followed by orange forks of lightening being catapulted from the black clouds, and then bouncing of the expansive land, then sudden gusty winds arrived, picking up debris from all around the land, and sending it scurrying madly around the farm.
The palm trees began gyrating, and shaking their mop heads…then, when the winds increased, began throwing their great arms out to reach each other, as if in some kind of crazy chorus line. By this time, the noise generated by the thunder and cracks of lightening, the wind tearing at vegetation, and slapping of debris into the side if the house, was overwhelming.
Then the rain started, the winds became even more violent, whipping up from the north and causing the rain to pelt the house horizontally, and with such force that it penetrated the gap between the roof and the walls, on one side of the house. Within seconds, all the rooms on this side were leaking water from their light fittings and water was streaming down the newly painted walls, eking into cupboards and shelves and generally causing as much chaos inside as outside.
On and on, the wind blew ,and soon the house was awash, Bossy and I couldn’t find enough buckets to catch water and mop up…all in failing light, as it was around 6.30 pm, and our electrics had gone. The worst of the storm was actually over within 40 minutes, during this time it had wreaked havoc.
Just as suddenly as it started…it stopped, and all was abruptly quiet, unnaturally still, and pitch black! Until both mobiles began buzzing, with friends asking if we were OK, or needed help…but everyone was in the same boat, mopping up and squeezing out. Some had far worse damage than we did. Marica, had the ceiling collapse in her laundry room, and all her cupboards full of fresh linen and towels, for the guest houses [which are due to be packed full this weekend for her ski event], had been covered in filthy rain water and debris. Without electrics for her washing machine [which was also under the debris] she was not looking forward to the “clean up”.
The factory was continuing to run its night shift, courtesy of the generator, and the workers were all clad in wellington boots, wading through the flooded floors, whilst a team of guys swept the water clear.
Outside, deep orange rivulets had gashed open the land and water had surged onto the tarmac roads and deposited tons of sand along with it, causing more mayhem, as well as altering the geography of our landscape.
Finally Bossy and I, dragged ourselves into a miserably damp bed. Waking, bleary eyed the following morning, to face the debris, both inside and out.
Mercifully the sun was already shining, so doors and windows were thrown open, and many of our damp “effects” could be hung outside to dry.
Much of the internal paintwork is damaged, rugs sodden…Cupboards still full of water and contents thereof soggy.
The wonderful Regina, arrived early, and between the two of us, we did as best we could…the walls and ceilings will have to dry before they can be repainted.
Although it was of little comfort, she assures me, that it is extremely unusual to have such heavy rainfall with the storms, and that we have been very unfortunate to have suffered two such events, in the past few months. Clearly the houses here are not built to withstand this level of “water attack”. Indeed it’s customary for builders to leave an exposed gap between the ceiling and the roof, to allow air to circulate, to take account of the extreme build up of heat. It was in this margin, that the horizontal rain, found its way inside.
Only a day after this “storm of storms”, I heard a dripping noise, coming from the middle bathroom, and on opening the door, saw a bulging ceiling, and water pouring out of the light fitting and bouncing into a lake of water that had collected on the floor….no storm was howling outside….and I knew, that our new geezer, which lays directly above the source of the dripping, was leaking.. The Geezer boys were called in to make hasty repairs, and we are left with another room on the list of redecorations!

The outcome of these occurrences is that we now have far more water IN the house than we do in the pool and the dam………. I’m sure that’s NOT, how it should be!

Chopping Lust & The mass eradication of Beefwood trees.
Around the internal borders of the farm house and garden, we have a fence separating us from the vines, the drying slabs, and the wilderness beyond. This fence is interspersed with large Beefwood trees [or “she –Oaks” as they are also rather strangely known] on the garden side. These trees are coniferous and grow conically and like monsters. [The ZA version of our controversial Leylandii.]
Whilst they do offer some protection from the sun, they also deplete all the reserves of water and goodness in the soil within the 10 meter circumference around them, so that other vegetation struggles in vain to compete for life, and inevitably fails. These trees have been declared a “national pest” by the Department of Agriculture ,and we are positively encouraged to remove and replant with more ecologically friendly and less demanding alternatives. This suits our purposes at the front of the farm, as there are about 8 large beefwoods that place the garden in great shade, and prevent any effective growth of plants underneath… added to which there are many far more beautiful, mature trees in the front garden, that will benefit from the increased light available.
So Bossy, Moses and several more guys from the factory have been busy…removing them.
There is much rubbing of hands and lighting up of eyes when they see Bossy sauntering out with the chainsaw…and all of them…including Bossy! Acquire a “chopping lust” ,that needs keeping under as much control ,as the beef woods, if its not to migrate to other trees and shrubs that HAVE NOT been declared national pests.
I have found it best to busy myself around the front garden, whilst they are working there, to protect the remaining vegetation! Including several spectacular clumps of stralitzias and a couple of wild banana trees. I have uncovered a couple of fresh stumps that look remarkably UNLIKE beefwood stumps! Despite my blatant accusations to the lumberjack twosome, they both stand tight lipped and feign innocence with frantic head shaking, pushing their machete and chain saw as far behind their backs as possible. The beefwoods are about 30ft high and Moses scales them, bare footed, with his machete slipped dangerously in a belt slung around his waist. In no time, he is swaying in the upper most boughs, hacking at them as though his life depended on it. Bossy, then deals with the lower boughs with the chain saw, …….once Moses is back down of course! ,whilst the gang of guys from the factory, load “The Raisin”, with the fall out, and remove it for immediate burning, in a rock strewn area, far enough away from other vegetation, so as to cause no further damage.
As a result of this activity, the front garden has lightened up, and we have an improved view of the valley beyond…It will also enable me, to start weeding the deep boarders where the beefwoods dominated…. I am still very cautious about slithering creatures….and insist on wearing my riding boots and a pair of thick leather gloves, also a hat…just in case any of the reported boomslang [small and very poisonous tree snakes], just happen upon my head! The snake expert …Finn…. did mention that Boomslang, are by nature, very shy snakes and most certainly don’t spend their lives looking for a fight…but if someone starts hacking at your home, I think even the mildest tempered of snakes might be moved to retaliate.[ I am reassured to know that Marica keeps Boomslang anti venom in her fridge!]
The dogs have loved all of this outside activity, Bee finding Moses antics quite fascinating…watching him closely as he scales the trees and then sending up warning barks as he approaches the top. Bongo delights in pinging around like a flea, from one fallen branch to the next, where he gives them a cursory chew and pings happily onto the next one.
The guys from the factory remain very troubled by both dogs…giving them a very wide berth…squeaking like babies, and hanging onto each other for dear life… if the dogs approach them. Which both Bee & Bongo delight in doing as they are, neither of them stupid!

CRAZY WALLS
Other news on the farm front. The breeze block walls around the back of the farm have been crazy paved […Oh yes…… all very retro!], Moses has been out with Bossy and collected the stone that lays in abundance on the land, and all the retaining walls at the back, some which stand up to 4ft high, are in the process of being faced with it…I’m rather pleased with the effect, and there is a degree of gratification, that the materials have been collected from our own source.

The Marchand Skou
This May weekend, we have the Marchand “Skou”, a combination of the annual village fete/fair and an agricultural show. [The"ou" is pronounced as you would "mow" a lawn.]
The entire event is run by the local farmers association, and for the past few years, The Raisin Company, along with many other local businesses, have sponsored the Skou.
It runs from Thursday night, through Saturday evening. [Friday being a bank holiday, and Labour Day, here in S.A] Finishing with huge finale bash on Saturday evening, with LIVE MUSIC & DANCING. Villam Vindpomp and the like, so plenty of “techno/dune billy” &“langarm agogo”.We have decided to skip this part.
Bossy tells me, that I will get some idea of how many people live in the region, as they flock to the Skou, from the farthest recesses of the area.
The level excitement and expectation in the community is extremely high. This weekend also sees Marica and Gerrit, hosting the final South African ski tournament of the season, at Lake Grappa.
Two massive events for this sleepy area, that just happen to fall on the same weekend..

Last night we were invited to a”sponsors braai” at the hall, where the wedding took place last Saturday. [The central point of the Skou]. The clock has struck 12 .00 for this place, and it had returned to its “unfairlytalelike” weeds…however, it was a hive of activity, with exhibitors and stall holders busy setting up their wares.

On our arrival, we parked next to a huge netted frame, holding several hundred pigeons, clearly NOT the feral type, as they were all gently cooing and behaving extremely well. Each, confined to it own cage, which were set in rows around the space about 8 high, and 25 long ,so that the entire tented block, was gently vibrating , humming, murmuring and cooing.
There were owners inside; petting and loving their birds, all speaking softly in Afrikaans….I imagine that at some stage over the next few days, these birds will have to work for their grain, and RACE.
The entire spectacle of the birds and their owners was incredibly touching…these people are a tough lot; they normally adopt a very practical approach to handling their animals. This was altogether different, both men and women, seemingly caught in a bubble of affection and tenderness, and I imagine a little expectation.
One of my favorite photos!
There was an area for about 20 stall holders to sell their wares [cant wait to see what is offered!], set around a large grassed area ,where Bossy informs me ,displays and demonstrations take place. A small “fun fair” offering 4 different rides…including bumper cars!!, a large paintballing compound, an outside exhibition area for farm tools, tractors and quads & the like and a covered area of stock pens for exhibitors. I notice that there are to be some Ngunis!

Added to all this excitement, Little is coming home for the weekend, and bringing a fellow boarder..Stephen, with him. He has caught a lift with Anna Marie Van Zyle, who is at uni in Cape Town and has very kindly offered to collect the boys on Thursday and return them on Sunday.

The boys arrived late on Thursday evening, tired from the 9 hours it took to get to us , thank goodness, Anna Marie does not have Bossy`s “need for speed”. Despite the spare room having been made up for Stephen, the boys begged me that Stephen be allowed to sleep on the Fat Sac in Little`s bedroom..so this is where he slept!


An Auspicious day,Friday 1st May & the acquisition of a BLT Throwing knife and aviators
Bossy had booked a table for breakfast at the Skou, and disappeared with the boys first thing. They returned eulogizing about quads and knives and knuckle dusters and t-shirts with rude slogans, and when I asked if that was everything to be seen, they both shrugged their shoulders and said “Yep”.

They spent much of the day, chasing each other around the farm on quads, periodically busting into the kitchen, throwing their helmets down and grabbing drinks, showering the place in red dust then flying out again.

Around 3.00 we decided to pay a visit to Lake Grappa and see how the ski competition was progressing, we arrived too late to see much of the serious ski ing, but just in time to see the Visser brothers aged17/8/6: GJ, Hans ,and TR ski ing around the lake as a threesome. Causing whoops of applause from the audience of about 150 people. How proud Marica and Gerrit must have been!
Little and Stephen, then persuaded me, that at the very least I might find a Bronco Layne Throwing Knife at the Skou, and so we made a rapid dash along the road.

Bossy was right, the place was heaving, hundreds of people attending!. The boys took me straight to the quads, where they were encouraged by the attendant to sit on the massive gleaming machines, and imagine themselves dashing around the farm on one of these monsters.
They dragged me to the various, cheap and cheerful stalls peddling curious combinations of pop corn, candy floss, fake hair extensions, watches, plastic tractors , “Ray Ban” sunglasses [for R20]etc etc.
Then to the rude T-shirt stall, and finally to the weapons stall. Sometimes I worry about Little`s taste. He was fixated by an Arabic and heavily embossed curly knife and sheath, in bright gold paint with embossed motifs,[ I found the bright gold, more alarming than the blade!] and then he became distracted and enraptured by the un sheathed Samurai swords that were strung perilously on fishing thread around the sides of the tent.
It was here that I found my BRONCO LAYNE throwing knife…much to the joy of the boys, and the stall holder, who on taking my money commented on what a lucky man my husband was. Little, piped up “Its not for him, it’s for Mama to kill snakes with”…the stallholder threw me a worried glance and handed over my sheathed knife, wrapped in a brown paper bag.

The boys looking super cool in aviators

"BLT Throwing Knife"

At this point, the boys took complete advantage of my “knife” euphoria, and begged me for “aviator” sunglasses. Which at R20 each, was a treat that I could just afford, after the BLT knife purchase.
The three of us had the broadest smiles at the fair, the boys strutting around behind their deeply cool aviators, and me with the BLT Knife nestled into my handbag.
We forced our way through more stalls selling irrigation equipment and fertilizer, past the “dancing dogs” display on the grass, past the cheap trainers and croc shop, beyond the caravanetts selling boerworst hot dogs, past the hoards of farmers tanked up and “warm:” from Brandewine, spilling out of the bar, and finally found ourselves at the stock pens…where 4 very fed up Nguni`s were unhappily nibbling at hay bales, being sandwiched in-between the bumper cars and the spinning tea cups, on one side, and the paint balling enclosure on the other, they looked extremely uncomfortable, and not at all like the soft and chilled Nguni`s on Gerrit and Marcia’s farm. Chewing manically, next to them were some very large black headed sheep that looked positively ferocious.
Each of them, very “white eyed” and mistrustful of me when I began to take pictures.

One very mean looking Nguni bull!

The huge black Nguni bull was so offended at my intrusion, he threatened to burst through the very flimsy stock fence, we decided it was time we beat a hasty retreat.
Returning to the farm, tired, hungry and ready to braai.

Saturday saw Stephen and Edwin out on the quads again. We had our first crash. Poor Stephen, who was driving very sensibly around a corner of the vineyard, [with Little behind him. thank goodness] caught a front wheel in one of the gullies caused by the rain, and found himself spinning out of control, and being hurled sideways into a chicken wire fence, strengthened with wooden posts… serious mopping up job! ..disinfecting of grazes, application of ice packs to the bruises and replenishment of his blood sugar levels with plenty of sweet drinks ….his face has taken the worst of the crash…a big bump his cheek, along with ample grazes to his face and shoulder, how sorry I felt for him and how brave, he was ,indeed very British about it all, insisting he was perfectly fine, that he was prone to accidents, and that the ripped T-shirt wasn’t actually a particularly precious one. In spite of this, I noticed that his hands were shaking and he was very pale.. So the boys were grounded for some quiet time, to let poor Stephen recover and his bruises develop.
Our neighbors’ son, Ian, arrived in the afternoon, to join the boy’s quading, I managed to distract them with a shooting competition, in order to give Stephen some more recovery time, and Stephen won! They set of on their quads again at 3.00, all helmeted and all under strict instructions not to “tear arse”, and to stick together and keep an eye on Stephen. They had planned a foray into the wilderness at the other side of the farm, where we rarely go for some reason. All had their mobiles in their pockets which are as important an accessory, as a helmet here. I was so twitchy, that I watched them from the back of the farm, these photos were taken on the long lens, and I imagine that they were at least a couple of kilometers away.

Sunday dawned, and after breakfast we left to meet Anna Marie at her parent’s house, where there were lots of cuddles for both boys and we bid them a very fond farewell, having equipped them with sufficient funds to buy lunch and drinks on route [I imagine this will be converted into car magazines, biltong and coke a cola, in that order!] They were still wearing their aviators, along with very broad smiles, thank the lord these glasses are so huge that they cover a little of Stephens bruise and spectacular graze, and I raced back home to compose a very apologetic email to his Mum. They eventually arrived safely back at school at 8.00 that evening.

Herbs, Cucumbers and talking tortoises.
I’m still “staring” at my herbs and salad leaves, which are growing nicely now, [if I gently rub the tiny basil and coriander leaves they smell wonderful!] , and I’m about to plant up another tranche.
Despite being out of “code red” snake season, I do not feel [as Bossy is suggesting] that my BLT throwing knife is “after the fact”,I have simply decided to get my eye in, and my throwing technique perfected, by asking Moses to sprinkle large numbers of whole cucumbers around the farm without my knowing where they are.
Then, when I go out to walk around the garden, with the knife around my waist, should I spot a lurking cucumber, I can whip out the knife, and with a deft flick of the wrist, impale the offending vegetable , there bye gaining some throwing practice . By the next “code red” season, I should have mastered the art, and at the very least: Binky, Rosy and Guilden will have grown fat on cucumber clippings.

Talking of the tortoises, has anyone ever heard a tortoise talk…or rather making a noise? The other day, I went to feed them ,and Rosy stuck out his neck, opened his “beak” ,and made a little sound that reminded me of the sound that we might make when we are having a good old stretch…Anyway, it really surprised me, as I thought that they were bereft of vocal chords ,so if any one can shed any light ,I would be most grateful.Taz has sent me some great information about them, and I discover that African tortoises do not hibernate, they just slow down …which all three are definitely doing. It doesn’t say if tortoises talk though!

Back down to basics:
Bossy and I are suffering from an underwear shortage! Our undies have been disappearing at an alarming rate…Regina and I conducted a search last week, and have concluded that at least 5 pairs of His and 5 pairs of Hers are missing. A complete mystery…
……………………………………………..On Saturday afternoon, when we had friends visiting.
Bongo was very excited to see the Van Zyles en masse and, as he does, kept bringing them small gifts of stones and sticks, however, when these made no impression…I watched him plod off to one of the sofas in the lounge.
Remember the “Little doggy he eat the sofa” incident, well, that damaged cushion pad has now been repaired, but clearly not leashed down to the sofa frame as tightly as the other cushion pads are, leaving a small tunnel of access underneath.
I watched from the braai room, my attention utterly distracted from the conversation going on there, as Bongo began digging under the sofa cushion, … to my horror…..he proceeded to pull out ,what looked like it used to be a pair of my knickers….With enforced calm, I removed myself from the conversation and discreetly whipped the knickers from Bongs mouth, averting any possibility of his bringing them to the guests, promising him whispered retribution , I hurried them to the scullery
…to my surprise, by the time I returned, he was performing his best magic tricks and pulling knicker after knicker out from the sleeve in the cushion, & throwing them into the air with a theatrical flick of his head… The people around the braai table were starting to take notice of him now, and I was unable to reach the scene before those sitting outside had gathered around the window peering in at Bongo, performing his party trick, knickers in varying states of disrepair [mostly gusset less] now littering the lounge, and Bongo lapping up the attention and the laughter. The ONLY positive that can be drawn from this incident is that we have located the source of the missing underwear, along with a hairbrush a flannel and several odd socks! I was very red faced!
The amazing Mr Magico with his jaunty little assistant "teddy"

[ now you see why he needs the knickers!]

I am also mortified, as his cache of my underwear, has focused on all the new pairs that I purchased when I was in London. And coupled with the fact that Bongo has chewed the bra straps off, the two new bras that I also purchased, I am very much back down to basics. At this rate will arrive “commando”, in England in June.
They DO of course, sell underwear here…but not the type that I prefer….suffice too say Bridgette Jones would be in heaven!
Naughty Bongo, continues to grow upwards and outwards and as you may surmise, is now going through a positively delinquent phase, not uncommon for 6 month old pup !…the problem is that being 45 kilos, having reached table height, and with a strong jaw full of large teeth, he doesn’t cause “puppy sized damage” but permanent damage to all those things he uses to “bond “with and use as “Comforters” in our absence.
Several pairs of my everyday shoes have also been ripped to smithereens, [no amount of hard work & magical humming on Moses part, can repair them!]And his obsession of dipping into our laundry basket at night, mauling and then secreting the evidence away, has been resolved. At night time, the laundry basket now gets locked into the dressing room.
Our sweet “Little” Bongo dog has had something of a wakeup call…rules are rules, and he is fast becoming acquainted with them. Never the less, when next I write, I may have a towel wrapped around me, for want of clothes.
This week, the butcher gave me two large marrow bones for Bee & Bongs, he really has no idea of “bone etiquette” amongst dogs, and is convinced that Bees` is far better than his….whilst he wouldn’t dare accost her for her bone, he fabandons his own, sidles up to her and lays down next to her, as close as her irritation will allow, watching every lick and nibble with utterly forlorn black eyes.

Bongo dicing with death!!!

With a certain degree of trepidation we have ordered the first pieces of our new furniture. Two sofas for the lounge… The style is called “Crazy Horse”…very topical, in view of my admiration of Bronco Layne.

Kisses on the lips for all
DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX