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.
For those getting cross with me about temperature “languages” 30c = 86F & 11c=56F
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.
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 SkouThis 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.
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.
"BLT Throwing Knife"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!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"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
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