Tag Archives: John

Some bare facts about living on a farm in South Africa:


Some bare facts about living on a farm in South Africa:

  • You have to watch out for snakes like puffadders and ringhals and some of my friends have Cape Cobra’s too. They are VERY aggressive.
  • You can’t pop out to the Kwik Spar or Woolies food store for supper ingredients. Your pantry has to be filled with incidentals and ingredients to whip up a cake or a dinner for 10 at all times.
  • You can’t walk around in your knickers as someone will invariably be walking past the window with a pile of wood and see you.
  • You have to be on the look out for strangers.
  • It’s peaceful
  • There is dust everywhere
  • Everything packs up at once: for example

geyser bursts

tap leaks

shower door comes off its rails

toilet blocks(this will ONLY happen when you about to greet a carload of visitors or when everyone has sat down to tea!)

tractor needs a new gear box

pump gets flooded

pool filter packs up

washing machine refuses to spin

fridge makes a last dying sound

  • the above did not all happen at once but I have been in a similar situation
  • Oh and the worst…..is not being able to get decent “experienced handy men to work on the farm…such as tilers, electricians, plumbers, builders etc. In town you have a choice of 30 plus, we have one choice!
  • AND THE worst…..sending your child away to boarding school….boo hoo
  • oh and everyone expects 3 x 3 course meals when they visit you

I had a little nap after lunch, that’s probably why I’m grumpy. That’s another thing you can do on a farm….send Molly off with the nanny and have a lovely after lunch snooze.

oh and eat copious amounts of biltong and drink lovely fresh water to balance out the water retention.

and our kids can play with guns and shoot buck up and shit. (said with tongue in cheek!)

Living on a farm is a juxtaposition in more ways than one.





oops, forgot to mention that….


oops, totally forgot to mention that 21 years ago, John ghrypped  (pronounced gghhray-pt), shaped, pulled into  me at Intervarsity, back in ’92.

The 5th of August 1992. We kissed for the first time.

The boob holding and dry humping all came later. Much later. I was green and wet behind the ears at that stage.

So, happy 21 years Love!

We kissed in that 1300 white Ford Eskort, leaning over the gear lever and hand brake and then you took me back  to Res for my 12pm curfew.

Oh, those were the days.

Gone but not forgotten…

Baa baa black sheep…..


Writing a blog is a healthy thing, but it can also become me-centred.  That’s why I  left it for a week. Everybody knows that if you’re speaking to me and I’m bored in the first sentence, I switch off and I don’t hear you. I think my droning on of late started to bore me. Hence the time off to live life.

Here is a shearing collage of 2012. Yesterday the wool was baled and today we transport our wool to the auction.

Happy Thursday all.

Giving birth on the farm road and other stories…..


Living in a busy farming community means you are busy most weekends and sometimes during the week too.

This last Sunday John and I had nothing on and we braaied with the kids.We sat in the sun drinking our white wine spritzers and had a right old  jolly good time. What bliss..to just stare at a point over my standard roses and not make small talk. Actually while I was staring blankly something did register in my brain to plant some more shrubs in the one flower bed. Am I good at gardening? I dunno? But I enjoy it and Zizile does a mighty fine job of listening to my instructions.

Yesterday I got a frantic phone call while I was in town from Thembisa. She phoned to tell me that she had to run up the farm road as her sister had gone into labour and was busy giving birth. So there this young girl was, lying on the gravel, grass and stones giving birth to her 3rd child. No help or drugs. Anyway John sent a truck straight away and she was whisked through to the local hospital. I’m presuming with baby and umbilical chord in hand…. They are both fine and the baby was a girl. The mother is not married and this is her third child in about 5 years. Hopefully the labour might cause her to think twice before allowing a man entry again!

It worries me so much when I see these kids running around sans a  father.  Every time a baby is born it puts such financial pressure on the rest of the family. The irony is, that this woman has never worked and she manages to bring up 3 kids with help from her family. She isn’t the only one that’s done that. The sense of family among Xhosa people is phenomenal and so strong.

The joys of farm life.

I took this photo on Sunday in front of the peach blossoms to celebrate Spring:

books and other stuff…….


Next to my bed I have April’s Fools Day by Bryce Courtney.

April Fool’s Day is a 1993 novel by Australian author Bryce Courtenay. The book is a tribute to the author’s son, Damon Courtenay, a haemophiliac who contracted HIV/AIDS through an infected blood transfusion. The title refers to the date of Damon’s death, 1 April 1991 (April Fools’ Day). taken from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/April_Fool’s_Day_(novel) . I’ve wanted to read this for ages.

For anyone that doesn’t know Bryce Courtney, he’s an excellent story-teller. Lifts and carry’s you into the book. He’s not a heavy read but one can’t slot him into cliterature(women’s literature) either. I just adore his books and always come away having learnt something or shifted my view-point about something. That’s all I ever ask when I read a book….to feel something or learn something.

The latest Spud is next to my bed to. But he can wait, not ready for him yet. That’s a guaranteed laugh.

On a completely different note..I have a bit of a problem at home. Even though my kids are 11 months apart, because of Molly’s mental aptitude I have two kids with two different interests in TV viewing. Aidan loves Disney, Boomerang (UUUHGGGHHH) and Molls adores Teletubbies, Shawn the sheep and general CBeebies. We taped Andre Rieu’s concerts for her. While she watched the TV, we watched her reaction to the music. What a delight to see her clapping, laughing and giggling at all the sounds. Aidan sat bemused in the corner.

So it’s a constant slotting in of everyone’s turn. John and I refuse to get dual view. He says we’ll never sit as a family and we’ll all watch too much TV. So Molls has her turn, Aidan has his, John has his and I generally tape what I enjoy on the PVR and watch it at my leisure. John hates Friends and Will and Grace and I’m terribly bored with black and white Second World War documentaries and repeats of Top Gear. We do try to watch family programmes, but seriously what doesn’t have swearing, sex or violence in it?

A constant battle…..

The one about the Online Shopping Whore….


Don’t you just love online shopping. I’m a bit of an online shopping whore.

From Kalahari to Yuppie Chef, well it blows me hair back, it does.

All those books and CDS’s to trawl through on Kalahari. I find Musica so intimidating. All that loud music, CD boxes lined up and thrusting themselves at me. My brain scrambles and I don’t know where to start. The sales people so hip and over-energised and mouthing the words to songs I’ve never heard before. Makes me feel so old and not with it. and….I am with it!

Online shopping is relaxed, I can take my time and really buy what I like. Plus the excitement of receiving a parcel in the mail is borderline orgasmic.

Ripping that hard plastic ribbon that holds the brown box together to reveal the contents. (A car key works well, by the way, at tearing the hard plastic ribbon.) I can never wait until I get home, I’m ashamed to admit. I usually saunter casually to the car, sit down, look over my left shoulder, look over my right shoulder, to make sure no-ones watching the rip-shit-and-tear and go for my badge.

However, this is a small town, so I’m sure someone, somewhere is sitting with binoculars, behind their net curtains and scouting for a bit of action.

and then there’s the drive home…..all excited to page through the book, listen to the CD, use my gadget or whatever else I’ve just taken delivery of.



so anyway, here I sit waiting for John to come home from a meeting in town, with my parcel from Kalahari. The latest Spud, Cathy Kelly and a Bryce Courtney. Can’t wait….oooooh, I think I hear his bakkie now…

I need some attention dammit!


At the moment John is perched on a tree stump on Venus, preoccupied and scheming about the water system he’s busy putting in on the farm, and I’m all frail and needy on Mars. Never the twain shall meet. Uggh, I hate this part of marriage when you’re in the same race but different courses. When he’s unconsciously veering left and I’m pointedly veering right for a bit of attention.

I need some attention.

No, not that kind! Just a kiss and cuddle and him to tell me I’m the bees knees.I’m the Blondie (I hated Veronica) to his Archie. I’m the Claudia Joy Holden to his Michael Holden(Army Wives), I’m his Eva Peron to his Juan Peron… You know what I mean, I know you do.

Oi, men can be obtuse and ego centric and women can be selfish and self-absorbed. The same thing but worded differently.

I NEED some attention dammit!