Monthly Archives: July 2013

I think I’m a waiter….


I think I’m a waiter.

Not a waiter that serves at a restaurant.

I’m a waiter ‘coz I wait.

I look to the sky and I wait for things to fall in my lap.

I do the same things everyday and expect to get a different result.

Like my weight.

I wait for the weight to miraculously fall off as I wait for the Woolies cashier to ring up my Chuckles purchase.

I wait for John to be less bad-tempered when he feels under pressure.

I wait

and I wait

and I wait

and I wait

for things to change.

But the truth is:

it won’t.

I have to stop waiting.

To stop looking at the sky




It has to be me that changes.

To stop waiting.

To do.

Change this waiting madness.

“coz it’s madness to wait.

Waiting doesn’t make things happen.




The musings of a nearly 40 year old….


I am so chilled this year. In fact, I was thinking last week, perhaps that’s why I’m not writing as much?

I’m chilled and nothing is evoking a response in me? Who knows?

All I know is that I’m not writing as often and I feel happy this year. Life has settled into a steady rhythm. Now, I know enough, to know, that life has a nasty habit of taking a side swipe at you and knocking you off your feet. You know, just for a little bit of shits and giggles. Just to feel a thrill at your gasp of shock as you try to regain your footing again.

It happens to the best of us.

Yes, shit in my life is still going on. Molly is still cerebral palsy and this morning Aidan cried as I dropped him off at school. John and I still argue one minute and then laugh the next. I’m still voluptuous and on a permanent diet.

Yet I feel calm. I can so no if I don’t want to do something. I’ve got rid of my treadmill that sat smirking in my bedroom accusing me of being a loser. That in itself, selling the treadmill, that is, has been liberating. The first thing I saw every morning and the last thing I saw every night was my treadmill.  Unused and making me feel like a failure. Everyday.

The other albatross has been to give up my showroom in a nearby town. I just don’t get there anymore. So giving in my notice on my rental has free-ed me up. No more guilt and feeling of inadequacy.

Maybe it’s turning 40 in a few months time? I don’t know?

I know the world won’t cave in if I’m not involved in something.

You get to a stage in your life, where you think, ‘oh Fuck it’.

Now is the time to face into the sun and just smile.

A simple smile, sometimes, is all you need.

a cracker of a bird………


Once upon a time there lived a cracker of a bird on a farm. She was married to the ridiest of rides.

But since she got married her plumage had faded a little. Her feathers had sagged and she had extra skin around her ankles but she still had the brightest, prettiest smile out of all the other birds on the farm.

Sometimes the bird would wake up and jump out of bed with excitement and other days she would lie there and pull the covers over her head, for sometimes, if truth be told, she was a little lazy. When a bird lived on a farm she sometimes had other little birds to help her tidy the chickens nest.

She also had a helper who helped her with her chicken with a broken wing. The chicken with a broken wing was God’s special gift to help her stay balanced and centred. You see, a chicken with a broken wing does that to you. Thats it’s job. It made her see the world in a different light. In a brighter sharper light. And all the other birds on the farm didn’t have the same power in their eyes as the Mommy bird.

So everyday this cracker of a bird would see the world keenly and sharply and everyday the other birds didn’t. So sometimes it was lonely to see the world shine brightly on her own. But every now and again she would find another bird that would squint her little eyes, would pull her beak into a smile and nod knowingly at her. For she too could see the world more brightly because of the chicken with a broken wing.

The cracker of a bird was kept busy. She had to supervise tidying the nest and she had to make pretty things for other birds. Also she had the fittest, fastest and  funniest chicken living in her nest. That fit chicken and the chicken with a broken wing kept her very busy. Her big bird heart would overflow with love when she looked at them.

And everyday she loved life and she loved all the other birds. She would  fly with the other birds, share stores and share worms. But some days she would want to lie still, with her wings pulled tightly over her eyes. To block out the light and to block out other people. It wasn’t that she was sick. She was just tired of thinking with her bird brain and she just needed a rest. You know, to stop flapping her wings for a bit. She loved flapping her wings with other birds.

And thats’ how life was for this cracker of a bird. For she was a true cracker of a bird. The bestest cracker of a bird as far as any beady eye could see. She loved her chickens and she loved being married to the ridiest of rides.

And truth be told, she was a happy cracker of a bird. For the most part anyway.

Enough snot to sink the Titanic….


Had anyone had  the whim or fancy to measure how much snot I’ve blown out my nostrils and sinus cavity’s in  the last few weeks, I think they would be surprised, like in eyebrows raised, widening of eyes in shock and horror.

I’ve gone through 3 tissue boxes, about 4 bales of white double ply toilet paper and a husband that rolls his eyes every time I snort, sneeze, blow or cough. 3 weeks ago, I contemplated driving to our local vet and asking him to ‘put me down’. That’s how sick I felt.

But today I’m happy to report that I’m much better. Very little to report in the ‘liquidised oyster front’.

So off I go, back to work. No work, no pay and all that.

If you’re heaving and feel slightly nauseous, you owe me, it means I’ve put you off your lunch and that’s less Winter wobbles you will have!!!


Dear M, do you remember being 20?


Dear M,

Today I met Johnz in town at the Weaner Sale. He sold heifers and some tollies. I remember mentioning going to a weaner sale to a True Townie Friend, and I recall her asking me if they sell weaner sausages at the weaner sale? I replied, No in a clipped tone and tried not to laugh/snort in her face. Weaners are cattle, dumb ass! But no, M, I didn’t say that, even though I wanted to. But in all fairness, how would she have known that?

I took a little happy pill, to calm me down before lunch. Someone rattled me with some news this week and I feel a little anxious. Anyway the pill must have helped, because Aidan asked me why I was being particularly nice today? The few Gins and Tonics and the pill hasn’t worn of yet, so I found his question rather amusing.

After the sale and after our delicious steak lunch, I met a girl who is studying in Pretoria and is doing a farming, veterinary practical on a cousins farm. What shocked me the most, is that she is an adult (20 years old) and born in the nineties! Holy crap that was, like 5 minutes ago! I was in my 2nd year of studying in 1993! I still feel 20. Hell, M, I still feel 18 years old.

But chatting to an over enthusiastic, naive yet excited about life, unjaded person is sweet and refreshing. I felt like telling her to keep her outlook on life for as long as possible. But you and I both know that it won’t last. She too will get dropped and let down by a man, she’ll suffer disappointments and get hurt. But aren’t you envious M? Such a happy time of our lives, being 20? I remember you were kissing Steve and Chris every alternative night, and I was kissing John until he left for his Civils practical year in Umtata. Then all hell broke loose, and I kissed a lot of boys that year.

To be rather honest, I kissed a lot of boys in 2nd year and was pissed for a large part of that year too. Truth be told, studying and exams is but a faded distant memory. I just remember the socializing and flirting at Barneys, Ziggy’s and Cassidy’s on Friday Nights, Saturdays and lazy Sunday afternoons. If you flirted just  right, you could score a free drink with no strings attached.

M, do you remember me living in that awesome beachfront flat with a sea view in 2nd avenue? A lot of shit went down in that flat. Minty broke up with Brett that year and then she went on a rampage with built, sporty boys in fast cars? Cassandra lost her virginity and John came back to study for his 3rd and final year. When I think of that flat, I remember giving John a spare key for the side gate of the building. I never gave him a key to the actual flat, he always had to knock and wait for me to open for him. His farm Hilux bakkie was stolen one night at about half ten, while he’d come for “coffee”.

We couldn’t very well say to his folks that the bakkie must have been stolen during a dry humping session, now could we M? Instead, after a quick conversation, we decided that he’d come by for a cup of coffee. I tell you, M, John’s folks were no fools and I reckon they put two and two together. But they were too polite to question the alibi!

oh well, always fun to go down memory lane.

Hope things well in Durbs. I loved your photo of Ben swimming in the sea.



My Letter to a friend about the Grahamstown Festival


Dear M

It was divine having you and Pat here. Aidan really loves you. Thanks for spoiling all of us with curry’s, wines, toys etc

The Tumblin’ Monkeys was a huge hit. The Riet boys loved it to. We enjoyed having them here last week. F suffers from poor self esteem so it took me a few days to sort her out. But we all get on so well and so it was fun.

Went down to ‘Talfred this weekend for one night and Johnzee and I hit the festival. It was 39 degrees Celsius but the folk were still donned in ankle length black trench coats, scarves, ear muffs, gloves and beanies. I have forgotten, having lived in the Border region for 12 years, the hot potato in ones mouth in Grahamstown. John and I were convulsed with laughter for a large part of the day as we watched people, and most especially as we sat munching our Brokwurst, with gherkins, mustard and fried onions at the Village Green! The Festino’s take it all so seriously.

We watched a show, caught some jazz, an orchestra and opera, wandered through a few art exhibitions. John handled it all very well except for one art exhibition in a massive hall at the monument. The whole room comprised of two biggish mannequins dressed in 1820 settler type outfits in Purple, complete with wedding dress train, fabric twirls and swirls. John said he couldn’t understand what the moer that was all about, maybe he should take the artist to a Bonsmara Bull sale and she can understand the same confusion and boredom he feels? The exhibition was entitled: “The Purple shall rule the World”

I bought a magnificently beautiful jug from Happyware, 2 scarves, and bead necklaces. Big chunky things.


Have a great week. Bloody chilly here today. John burning firebeaks and in an irritable mood.

Chat soon