Rise up and walk!

Tonight is a Wednesday,and Wednesdays [along with Fridays] are PIZZA night at Lake Grappa [Marica &Gerrit our next door neighbours].

I asked Little if he felt up to a trip out this evening...rather hoping he might say yes..as he needs a change of scenery and the confidence to try out his newly acquired crutch skills..[his injury is as much to do with recovering from the awful pain that he experienced and not worrying that the slightest knock will bring back that dreadful hurt.]

To my delight he said he would love to go to the club house...Brave boy!!!!

All fine, he even hobbled up to the do it yourself pizza assembly table and instructed Bossy and I on the construction of his pizza.

Just sitting down to eat when a very distinguished grey haired gentleman approached,asking Little in Afrikaans what was the matter with his leg. Little understood him, but answered in English,explaining that he had dislocated his knee in a rugby match on Saturday. This gentleman looked at the Edwin's and I and asked if he might pray for Little.

Being the good Northern Capetonians we are..we said "Of Course"..imagining that Little might get a mention at the side of the gentleman's bed that night....OH NO.....THIS IS THE NORTHERN CAPE!!!!

The man bent down next to Edwin, grabbed his hand and with his other hand hovering above Little's knee..proceeded to call on the Almighty..entreating him to provide an IMMEDIATE resolution to Little's problems...."This injury WILL get well" he shouted [ most people around us were absolutely fascinated]. I was making a rapid calculation of exactly how far Little's crutches were about to be hurled and how rapidly I could retrieve them in the dark ![ cynic that I am!]

After appx 7 minutes of incantations..we arrived at "Amen" and my sweet Little who had kept his eyes perfectly squeezed shut throughout the proceedings ,managed to keep a perfectly straight face and thanked the gentleman most sincerely.

Then everyone simply carried on as though nothing remotely out of the ordinary had just occurred.

I have raced home and HAD to get it straight on the blog....I`m quite unsettled about it and am not entirely sure why,the Edwin's seem to be utterly non plused...

I feel like I have two options

A] I should be livid that someone took advantage of my injured baby!!!! and equally furious with myself for letting it happen.

B] Roll over and expect a miracle in the night.

As I have mentioned,I am a cynic..so I`m trying to quell my rage.

So sorry....had to share that with you all.

This is the most ludicrously bizarre picture I could find in my personal photo cache,to match this story!

One of those weekends,memorable for all the wrong reasons!!

Departing as usual at 6.00a.m on Friday morning,we had an uneventful 900 kilometer road trip to Cape Town. Collecting a bright and happy Little along with his friend Stephen,who was joining us for the weekend.

Edwin was expected at the sports pitch to join his rugby team at 7.15 a.m on Saturday morning for a 7.45 kick off against Rondebosch Prep.

Dutifully we arrived on time, and before we knew it Edwin was warming up with his team mates and promptly at 7.45 the whistle went and the game began.

After only two minutes Edwin caught a long pass out to the wing and was set upon by three small Rondebosch boys,he stayed upright and dragged them along behind him..his famous "steamroller" move. It took another two boys to bring him down. And he stayed down!...Bossy and I were called over...something seemed horribly wrong with his leg...the knee cap had been totally displaced and had found itself realigned with his calf!. His screams of pain could be heard across all pitches.

An ambulance was called and Edwin was gently lifted in,the slightest jolt causing more agony. 3 minutes more and he was gently offloaded at the Vincent Palotti Trauma department.

To cut to the quick,several shots of morphine ,several x-rays and a difficult relocation of an errant knee cap and joints!,and Edwin was taped into a soft cast and told not to weight bear for two weeks,to keep his leg straight, and to return and see an orthopaedic man on 2nd September.

Little & his friend Stephen at the Mansions Saturday afternoon!

No one can say at this stage exactly what long term damage may have been done..if any....we are simply keeping our fingers crossed and have returned to the farm with Little, who is hobbling around on crutches ,still in a great deal of pain,and quite rightly feeling extremely sorry for himself.

Our plan is to return him to school next weekend,when hopefully he will have mastered the art of crutches and be capable of attending to his most basic of functions. The thought of Maam having to help on this score,fills both of us with horror and is providing something of an incentive for the sharp learning curve Edwin is now experiencing.

Not a routine drive back to the farm, somewhere two thirds of the way home we had a blow out of ANOTHER TYRE!!!!!

Blow out en route!

Thank fully and solely down to Jessie and Toms experience in Augrabies..we knew how to put on the temporary one...but were restricted to 80 kms an hour..so it took us 9 hours to get home!!!!!

The plus side to this..and yes there was one,was that I was able to photograph some of the flowers that this trip is known for at this time of year.

Sadly I could take none of the wild Arum Lillies that grow in HUGE clumps about 100 kilometers north of cape Town..They hug the verges in great abundence just like our rather diminutive wild flowers do in England!

This photo is typical of the landscape for the last 250 kilometers before we get home!

Wednesday at the farm and Little is at last mastering the art of walking on crutches,very happy to plug himself into his X Box ,and grimacing whenever I send him to do a circuit of the rooms.He can at least wash himself now and attend to his basic functions without our aid..which is an important step forward if he is going to survive at school,without suffering the thinly disguised irritation of Maam!

OH BLIMY!!!...so much for presentation..apologies the new system and I clearly have yet to mould into a lean mean blogging machine. You will have to make your way through the following upside down posts, as best you can.I could do a lot better.XXD

Picture courtesy of Lien Botha

Thoughts of Home. Never far away.

Bossy & I visit Cape Town next weekend; I need to spend some time with Little, and yearn for the comforting hum of civilization around me. This Friday morning; we will do one of our early morning departures from the farm, leaving Regina to care for the dogs.

Jessie has settled into her accommodation in Chichester and seriously rates the City. She regales me with details of the procedures that she is now undertaking, and the fact that she has done a couple of "on call " nights in A&E which she seems to LOVE!....I am suitably impressed.

Tommy has had to take on the running of his office...such are the benefits of Swinus Flueus.

Finn is looking forward to returning to Newcastle in a month's time!

Kisses on the lips to all

DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Very large Worms

Whilst sitting at my computer last week, Edwin and Arnou popped in to show me something that Arnou`s gardeners had found. They were described to me as "worms" and had been dug up in his garden that afternoon. Try as I might to find out what they are actually called, no one can remember. Years ago I read a book called "DUNE", they remind me of the sand monsters in that. Apparently they are harmless [although their mouths look rather dangerous], some people eat them!!!!! I regard this experience as a positive one, at least when I come across one in my own garden, I won`t freak out. On balance I much prefer the good old English earth worm..a far more attractive fellow if you ask me.

A ‘hunting we shall go

Bossy was invited on a BOERS HUNTING TRIP on Friday. The gentleman who did the inviting was the same beefy farmer who lifted me up and spun me around at his daughter's wedding. Bossy and I very naughtily refer to him as "J.R" [ Ewing] .

This is the time of year for hunting, and many of the farmers spend regular weekends in each other's company, drinking and popping away at wild creatures. Returning with laden Bakkies and hangovers. "Hunting" is very much the "Male ritual" here in the Northern Cape.

Bossy, despite being a crack shot, has NEVER killed a living creature in his life. Preferring clay prey, to the furred or feathered sort. The other thing that he has NEVER done in all the years I have known him..is camped...you know :sleeping bags, campfires, sausages on sticks and GingangGooly.

Accepting J.R`s invitation, meant that he was going to have to break new ground on at least two fronts, to my amazement he accepted.

Friday afternoon saw him scuttling around trying to locate a sleeping bag, a blanket, pillows and warm clothes. He very loudly shouted at Dottie, who was Skyping with me, to say that he never slept anywhere unless it had "HILTON" written above the door, and there was NO WAY he would be caught dead sleeping under the stars.

"Is there anything else I should take with me?" he asked... "No", I responded with confidence!...whoops I thought as he exited the drive.....He didn't take toilet roll....Everyone knows that you need toilet roll on camping trips..Particularly Hunting AND camping trips.

.... WELL WELL!

Bossy BEFORE his initiation with a large Gemsbok bull

During the course of Saturday morning...and much to my irritation,[ I was still reeling from RED KITE at this point] I received several calls from members of Bossies , inebriated, hunting party explaining that he was still out hunting [with J.R], and they were back at "BASE CAMP".

They felt that I should know that he had slept under the stars and that he had shot his first creature and undergone his initiation ceremony. At this point in the "conversation" the caller broke into hysterical cackles and someone else took over in slurred Afrikaans. It was one of those calls ,where clearly, you HAD to be there, to understand how convulsingly amusing, it all appeared to be.

Bossy returned late on Saturday afternoon, looking as though he had been involved in a massacre...covered in blood from the roots of his now, red hair..to the boots on his feet. He stunk. Worse still there were several large dead animals in the back of "The Raisin". I have to admit to having a complete sense of humour failure; this is obviously a boy thing!

He dispatched himself [with his kills] to Gerrit, who provides a butchery service for local hunters, and offloaded. I didn't even need to ask him to strip, before coming inside the farm..he did so and hopped into a shower ,where he stood for about half an hour.

I have some idea of what went on in the "initiation ceremony" from the photos, and there are NOT pretty. Something similar a grown up Lord of the Flies episode.

I remain completely gob smacked by Bossies apparent delight in the experience, and have decided that the longer I reside here, the more of a "Sissy" I become.

BOOKS

Enough of dogs with unsavoury fetishes, and on to matters more laudable... I have been reading REAL books again and have started The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. Missionary family, who move in 1959 ,from the States to a village in the Belgian Congo. The story is narrated by the five women of the family. The essence of post colonial Africa is captured beautifully as the back drop to the novel.

How I love this book, it has one of the most wonderfully descriptive opening chapters I have ever read. In a slightly muted way I feel great empathy with the characters in the book. Whilst our life here, has none of the privations that the Price girls are subjected to, it describes beautifully the feeling of being disengaged from all that you hold dear.

The anchor these women have is an unswerving faith in God, in each other, and an increasing fear of their arrogant bible bashing father/husband.

Definitely worth putting on the reading list if you haven't already found it.

RED KITE: A virtual slap across the knuckles

Talking of books, whilst we were in UK, David managed to repair the external hard drive that had captured all the photos and documents from the lap top that crashed a week before we departed last September.

Whilst trying to upload the photos onto my new computer, I came across the beginnings of a novel for children's book that I had started to write about three years ago.

Having read the 8 or so chapters I had already written, I decided to crack on with it. Part I[200 pages], Is now written.

Bereft of any forums for critical analysis here in the desert, I resorted to a Google search, and came across a site funded by the British arts council.

Once registered as a member, you can upload your first 5 or so chapters, and another member is asked to provide a critical review of your work. You are then asked to review someone else's work. The more crits that you provide the wider the circulation of your own work, and consequently you receive more critiques on your own work.

So..Feeling deeply impressed with myself, I gaily enrolled myself, uploaded the first 25 pages of my book. Busying myself in the meantime, by criting 7 or so pieces written by other members. Some of it absolute tosh..But some very good.

The site offering very specific advice about preparing a critical analysis to another writer. There is ALWAYS something positive that one can find in any piece of work, and to focus upon this at least in equal proportion to the negative, no matter how much you may dislike the piece you are criting.

I have just had a response to my work from "Red Kite" [who I have decided, must be an unpublished English teacher]. I have had the most severe slap across the knuckles for my: "appalling sentence construction. Use of punctuation. Lack of use of speech comas, and SPELLING"!!! [I was immediately sent spinning back to 4C at Cranford House!]

Not content with this :Red Kite, inflicted another wound for presenting a "First Draft"..Apparently this is just "NOT DONE". Every piece that is uploaded should be edited and proof read as if it were about to hit the presses.

Red Kite does think the story line is rather fascinating ...Thanks!!!!!!!

Do I assume that this is the one "Positive" comment that Red Kite could trawl from the 25 pages? ,or do I read through the thinly disguised observations and read "DITCH Part I and go back to the drawing board",even more terminal "forget the drawing board as well!"

25 pages

I have not yet to come to any conclusions on this. But have returned to the 25 pages, with a more critical eye, and Yes there are glaring errors in the text.

I realize that writing a book is not just having a good idea/story, its as much about the nuts and bolts of writing: presentation, editing. Proofing. So I am taking a page from my Mum`s book...You are NEVER to old to learn and I am now trying to learn how to write.

Its disgustingly hard work..Indeed the first 25 pages have taken me another week of laborious scouring, and I still have another 150 pages to go before I dare return to the "Upload "button and the likes of Red Kite.

Will keep you posted.I fear that there may only be charred remains to discuss when next I post.

Art: I started to sketch some pictures of Ankole cattle [they are very striking!] and because of my position in the hallway, just couldn't bear any more comments from Uncle Tom Cobbly and all..So have temporarily stopped, how I yearn for a private space in which to hurl some paint around!

TELESCOPES .HIGH WINDS & GUSETLESS BUT WAVING KNICKERS.

August hasn't yet disappointed, we have been besieged [well the laundry has!] by blustering winds. Bongo loves it......Standing face towards the current, letting it slap his ears slap back onto his head. And snorting the wind up into his nose..I imagine he is able to pick up scents from miles away, in this manner.

Before I continue,I have to explain a different Blog format than usual.Thanks to my new computer,I have had to modify the way I use my blog,and it doesnt seem to want to post the pictures. and can only cope with one section at a time...ah well.I suppose thats how Blogs really ought to be.

We are almost decked around the pool now. The telescope was a gift from Bossy to Little a few years ago. Little and I think we may have misunderstood the flat pack instructions, because when you look through the viewfinder, everything is upside down! When Magda popped over to see us one day, she whooped with joy to see it. Revealing to all that she had always wanted a telescope, and that in her opinion only "very brainy people" had them....I instructed her to go and take a look through it immediately...assuring her that her assumptions would be dashed instantly...THEY WERE! The photo shows the view from The Braai room.

The rooms across from the pool [with orange doors] are Moses quarters .Bossy has promised him [and me!],that as soon as we embark on stage two of our building works, Moses will be re housed in the Old pump rooms, well away from the house and near to the front gates. The Old pump rooms comprise a single empty space, with huge roller doors.[Like garage doors] and will need converting.

Having his own place, will allow Moses [and us] to lead less overlooked lives. It will also define his "patch" where he will be able to plant vegetables to his heart's content. [They are currently competing with the roses!] Also to graze his chickens with impunity and go about his "home life" without tiptoeing through ours.

Don't misunderstand me, I feel most fortunate that Moses is with us, but I do find watching him going about his ablutions most mornings and evenings a little unsettling..I`m sure that he feels the same about us!

He noticed how cross I was on Friday, Bongo had chewed the heel off of my ONLY remaining pair of useable "day footwear". I had resorted to wearing a pair of pointy toed, mustard yellow slippers that I bought in Zanzibar in a fit of "visitor needs to take home eclectic gifts from foreign climes", and which had hitherto, remained in the recesses our walk in wardrobe. Embarrassing and rather theatrical. Footwear?.....Yes! But when needs must.

Anyway, back to Moses. He noticed me fiddling around with the heel to the boot, looking crestfallen. He asked [in sign language] if he could help. I`m quite sure that he had been drawn to me by the mustard yellow slippers on my feet .....and felt some pity for me.

I went and found the other part to the boot...and in his usual smiley manner he said "Allllllrrright Missus", took both parts of the boot and returned later that day with boot and heel joined .

Not only had he reunited the heel with its boot but he had stuck a new piece of black leather on the heel where Bongs had gnawed it off!. I didn't mention that the boots and the original heel are brown! I`m just happy to have my beloved boots back and can consign the embarrassing pointed slippers to the back of my wardrobe once again! Bongo continues to trawl through my underwear, despite my having developed some very complicated systems to outwit him. The moment our bedroom door is accidentally left open. He makes straight for the underwear. So angry was I to find him chewing through another of my bras, that he suffered his first serious hiding. Yes.... I`m afraid I resorted to corporal punishment..as a result he has given me a very wide berth for the past few days.

I was grossly embarrassed just a few days ago, when I noticed Skelm and Villam digging about 2 meters away from the washing line, with four pairs of gusset less knickers waving joyously in the breeze at them. [ I SO REGRET not taking a picture...but was far to ashamed to admit they were indeed my knickers!] .

I have now made a firm pact with Regina ,should she come across anyone's mutilated underwear, she has my authority to immediately throw them in the bin.

AUGUST.......THE MONTH OF HIGH WINDS IN THE DESERT.

Firstly and most importantly,we are all now declared free of SVINUS FLUEUS..so you must feel free to read this missive without covering your noses and mouths!

Jessie has now installed herself at St Richards in Chichester [When last we spoke, she was caught in a maze of hospital corridors ,trying to navigate her way homewards..without success..] and Tommy back into the swing of work and training at Henley ,with Finn hard at work earning enough cash to see him through his final year at Newcastle and with Little back at school in Cape Town , I am determined not to indulge any sense of loss, and have been busy with a number of projects .

The garden...to my horror..The weeds in my new border are clearly made of sterling stuff, and seem not to have been deterred by the extreme cold that we suffered through June and July. Conversely our absence seems to have generated a state of complete inertia in the gardeners.....Skelm and his side kick Villam have been noticeable by their absence..so I have set to the new border with small fork and murderous intentions directed towards the weeds. It has taken me much of the week to reclaim the border again, and I now have a queue of plants lined up on the patio waiting to be planted. This has spurred me onwards in the thankless task of weeding, as I will not allow myself to plant ,until the ground is suitably clear...... being so close to the front door...means that I can crank up my iPod, having chosen music or one of my talking books to shriek out at me .

Talking books,pro`s and con`s...brilliant for travelling purposes, however...I now realise that a certain part of the entire reading experience, has to do with possession, [well at least for me it has] a book is a tangible object ,so that names and dates can be written [respectfully inside] notes can be added to margins, once read, they can be placed on a bookshelf,re read, dipped into, passed on, whatever. Talking books lack this rather vital physical quality; they sit in your iPod library fiercely protected by copy write. With Talking books...You simply get none of the swirling, chocolaty pleasure of possession.
Tommy started to listen to the Rosetta Key by William Dietrich, and was thoroughly enjoying it [ like me ,he wasn’t hugely partial to the American narrator..but since the hero IS American we both forgave!],but there was no way that he could take it home with him to complete, the resolution is of course for him to go and buy a copy or to download his own version, but it breaks the flow.
On the long flight to UK,I listened to Carlos Ruiz Zafon`s The Angels Game..Read by Dan Stephens..Completely spellbinding, the most beautifully written and translated book..Something of the gothic horror about it..But nevertheless wonderful, perhaps one of the books I have most enjoyed for a very long time. I am now reading The Shadow of the Wind by the same author, which is just as quirky, if a little less bold than “Angels game”, but nevertheless excellent.
Weirdly...the experience of listening to a book being read, reminded me of being very little, when we used to curl up with my Mum on the sofa after lunch , having fought over who was going to sit in her “hole”..[the crook of her legs where she lay on her side on the sofa],we would settle and listen to a story being read on the radio for an hour or so.
I discovered that listening to a book being read is an extraordinary pleasure, and one that I had almost lost the ability to indulge in... it is totally unlike reading a book, as one is not outwardly proactive in any way..Simply consuming the words and allowing ones imagination to run riot.
I did try an experiment at the farm, and whilst I was painting, I turned a talking book on to play. Impossible...just couldn’t do both things at the same time.....Perhaps it uses the same creative part of the brain!
Anyway.I have, as always returned with an army of real books to read, and am trying to find some time to start another before I finish “The Shadow.”

My new computer...I have been surviving using Little’s very basic lap top for the past 10 months...and thanks to Bossy, this “all singing all dancing” piece of equipment ,has now arrived and is now dragging me through my I.T paces. The mammoth task of removing all the photos that I have taken since our arrival, last September is testing my patience and after a full week I`m still only on Jan 09! I have been very distracted by some of the pictures in my collection.Viewing certain large folders in an altogether different light as I edit them..so I have been playing with the new bits in my computer..here are some of the results.

The Zimbabwean Z100 trillion dollar note is used as wallpaper
I have begun to access some very interesting and inspiring art and design forums here in SA, and have been reading about a design group : TBWA/Hunt/Lascaris in Cape Town, who have just won two highly influential International awards for a recent campaign they devised to promote “The Zimbabwean”...a newspaper[as the name suggests originally from Zimbabwe]....their brief was to raise awareness and increase its readership. The Mugabe regime has destroyed Zimbabwe. It has presided over the brutal oppression of the opposition, a cholera crisis, massive food shortages and the total collapse of their economy. Furthermore anyone brave enough to report this has been bullied beaten and driven into exile. One such group is "The Zimbabwean Newspaper". However not content with having hounded these journalists out, the regime has slapped an import "luxury" duty of over 55% on the paper, which makes the paper unaffordable for the average Zimbabwean. In order to subsidise the paper they need to sell it in England and South Africa, to raise foreign currency.

The design group chose one of the most eloquent symbols of Zimbabwe’s collapse.... the Z$100 trillion dollar note, on which to base the campaign.
The note cannot buy anything, not even a loaf of bread and certainly not any adverising, but it can become the advertising. it can be a powerful reminder of Zimbabwe’s plight and the need to hold someone accountable.

Art: Yes I`m at it again, but the result of my all my thinking and planning has.. as always...produced unexpected results, still very much at sketching stage ,so not a great deal to show ..But I AM actively working again. Have a look at beezy Bailey`s work..he is one of my favorite ZA artists.http://www.beezybailey.co.za/

I have come to some resolution over the very odd picture of the peonies “ Amplus Quam Vitae” that was completed shortly before we left for England..., and have decided that it is a physical response to the feeling of being given a spiritual kick up the rump ...pushing me on to start my painting again.... my Mum! She loved peonies.

Onwards towards the semi abstract where I am far more at home.
My attention has been grabbed by the many traditional and the contemporary images of this countries tribal heritage. I came across these stunning images at : http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-516490/Out-Africa-The-incredible-tribal-fashion-inspired-Mother-Nature.html .

Do have a look ,there are more images by the wonderful photographer Hans Silvester (Rapho/Camera Press) from the book Natural Fashion: Tribal Decoration from Africa by Hans Silvester

Language...Timothy!!!
Can anyone remember that TV programme: “Sorry” with Ronnie Corbett playing Timothy Lumsden......, the series was actually filmed in Wallingford. Corbett played a 40 ish librarian, who still lives at home with his domineering mother Phyllis and henpecked father Sydney. Although quite shy around women, Timothy longs to find love and leave home, but Phyllis is always aghast at the idea, and constantly manipulates her son into staying at home. When Corbet became frustrated and erred on the side of bad language... his appalling mother would Shriek...”LANGUAGE TIMOTHY”.
..well I was reminded of “Sorry “the other night.
We had asked Nikki and Magda, out to supper in order to celebrate Magdas birthday. Bossy had lived up to his name throughout the early evening and was driving me to distraction, so that by the time we reached Magda..I was already very close to throttling him. When he detects the signs, that I am on the verge of murder.., instead of taking heed...he does the reverse and he usually fans the flames.. he did not disappoint this evening.
Arriving at Magda and Nikkies, we found that Nikki had only just come in and still wanted to shower before going out...Bossy suggested that Magda and I go ahead, and that they follow, which we were both very happy to do, but Bossy was most insistent that I should give him a cigarette lighter as he did not have one........”No “, I replied...”I have explained three times already, that I lost mine somewhere today”....unperturbed he asked if I could then light him a cigarette in the car before I drove off...huffing and puffing I belligerently pressed the car lighter...but it refused to warm....nevertheless and somewhat defiantly I handed the very cool implement to him. Inevitably he let out a tirade of complaints ......so being the shrew that I am...I suggested he rub two sticks together, waved cheerily and put my foot on the accelerator and screeched out of the driveway with Magda hanging on for dear life...as we pulled onto the main road, I could hear his shrieks of fury ....and in a very unladylike fashion I shrieked back something equally rude...to which Magda said.”...Language Dawn...Language”...in her most teacherly voice which reminded me so much of very scary Phyllis in Sorry.
...she was actually very tickled, as she always is by Bossy and my, mostly friendly banter...but told me that she felt that living in Kakamas ,amongst all the burly farmers was doing me no good at all.. indeed she feels that I am becoming too KAKAMANIAN...how I LOVE this term.. and have decided it needs to be used regularly....Henceforth I shall subtitle this blog... THE KAKAMANIAN.

70`s night at Lake Grappa: this event came something of a surprise to me..Bossy having done one of his agreeing to our coming, but having omitted to advise me.
The first I knew of it was on Wednesday evening [at Pizza night!]...Everyone was discussing what they would be wearing..and after Bossy began to recount various items of ancient clothing he felt might be suitable..I was forced to admit, that pre move.I had culled both of our wardrobes of a vast amount of very ancient clothing, using the same criteria of cull for both of us: what had not been worn for the past two years had to go to the charity shops if it was wearable and to the clothing bank if it wasn’t.
Those of you who know Bossy, will be aware that he has the most enormous wardrobe ...and it didn’t surprise me to find that he didn’t notice the absence of 20 black bin liners full of ancient clothing [some of it still in packing boxes, from when he moved to UK about 16 years ago!!] . Have no fear..he still takes up most of our very large walk in wardrobe here!
Being the laid back soul he is, he took the news on the chin and the two of us thought no more about it until Saturday at about 5.00pm [ the bash started at 7.00pm.] .I decided to pay very oblique homage to the 70`s by donning a very pretty cheesecloth top and a pair of white jeans...sadly no cork platforms..so my flatties had to do, along with some fluffing of the tresses and a hair band. I had spent some time lounging in the bath...considering exactly what our friends around here would do with the entire concept of a 70`s party. You all know how much I love our Northern Capetonian friends but they are somewhat old fashioned ,in very many senses, but none more so than in their clothing...in all honesty [and I really don’t mean this unpleasantly]70`s night will really not be too demanding a flip of wardrobe . I reckon we are easily 30 years behind the times here in sleepy Kak as it is.
Bossy disappeared into our walk in wardrobe at .6.45 pm and came out looking like this!

His idea was that if he couldn’t be 70`s he would go bright..and in typical Dutch fashion...Orange was his chosen weapon! Both Bongo and Bee gave us very old fashioned looks as we set forth for the lake.

This a compendulum of photos taken at the bash..The South Africans had embraced the whole 70`s theme by collectively donning wigs..plenty of afro`s being sported in black, blue and red, a plethora of BIG sunglasses. A light spattering of crazy fabric, some tie- die .....BUT everyone with the intention of partying like mad things. I didn’t get onto the dance floor, as they were whirling around doing Langarm to South African 70`s music [ much like 21st century Z.A music!].And it was something of a danger zone...with bodies, wigs and sunglasses flying around [ in an anti clockwise direction] at speed. Marica had made “sloppy Joe`s” for all...a burger bun filled liberally with spicy mince and accompanied by chips...followed by chocolate milk shakes...was that really what the South Africans consumed in the 70`s? Groovy Baby.

By far my favorite photo of the evening is this one of Siegfried..the barman at Lake Grappa..aka Zieggy.

The dogs are well ,Bongs is still limping and I`m still awaiting a diagnosis from the X-ray referral!!!..He managed to chew up Bossies X Box head set on Wednesday night.. a protest at our leaving him and Bee for the evening! Each time we go out...we scour the house for stuff that he might access in our absence, and each night we return to find he has outwitted us.Several more pairs of my BRAND NEW knickers have been binned.!..gussetless!!!!. To date our Crazy horse sofas are intact....helped somewhat by draping them in a couple of beautiful Nguni skins that Bossy gave me...

I have told Bongo that of he dares eat either the sofas or the Ngunis...his will be the next skin draped over the furniture!

As usual my very fond farewells to all..happy holidays to those that still plan trips away..or are still away ...Mrs Armstrong basking still in Corphew! Mrs Outram in France. Thrilled for Dotti and news of her revised treatement..[thats the power of positive thought for you Dott!!].

Kisses on the lips to all

DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx