Category: Lifestyle Blog

As I have mentioned before, I am a late bloomer. Driving was no exception. I mentioned before I only decided (no that is a lie) I never decided. I had no issues I would phone Gary, we lived in 7^th Avenue and he worked in Pinetown. I would phone him when there was one really minute cloud that could have been contemplating whether it should become big enough to cause some shade. I would phone and bleet  “I think its going to rain, could you come fetch me and take me to the clinic Ryan needs to be weighed?” Remember those days with your first born. There was no way in hell you would skip clinic – you had to know if he had increased his weight in the past week.

 Getting back to the weather, this weather watching trend goes back even further. When I worked at McCann in Musgrave Centre. I had a little Vespa. I would spend from lunch time each afternoon (I kid you not, each afternoon) asking Maureen who at the time was my boss and today is one of my dearest and bestest friends ever. So, I would amble “casually” into her office and ask “Mausie, do you think its gonna rain?” and once again Dizabeth digressed. So, Gary would tear across the whole of Durban to take his beloved to clinic. Then he would have to sit there whilst she tried to sidle up and make new friends. (Which she did, Nikki Matheson my clinic mama hello my dearest friend). Sometimes weighing in time could take a couple of hours. So eventually Gary said enough! You have to get your license. In fact, Gary didn’t say anything to me he clearly did to his dad – so Hen booked and paid for the lessons. That way he was clever I couldn’t back out. The first time I tried to get my license, the day before Gary and I went for a practice run. The bridge that runs through/under Greyville racecourse. It is a way one road – a stop and go: – “no you go – no you go” as you do major sign language to your fellow driver ….you get the idea? And so, I was approaching it as was another car on the other side. In fact, that car had commenced and didn’t I firmly place my foot on the petrol instead of the brake. I bet that driver is still seeking therapy. Needless to say, the next day I failed. I remember so well, shucks I didn’t even get out onto the road! I was doing my parallel parking and hill start – yip – you guessed – the hill start. Capital F for big fat FAIL. And I remember I had such an attitude too. Poor instructor and the worst was seeing Gary’s face that evening. It was one of those frikken “I told you so” faces.

My first ever out the box car – it was bought to incentivise me I am damn sure!

The first car I ever got stood in our parking bay for many months. I don’t know why it did? It probably was an incentive. Thinking back, I don’t even recall what Gary drove. We were newlyweds so certainly couldn’t afford two car payments? So, Gary bought me a white FOX Trippa. I recall the first time I sneaked it out. I was doing lessons and myself and Nikki – yip we were best buddies by now. They lived across the road from so we were inseparable. We would sneak the car to the shops. My word the first time I sneaked it out, I remember how horrified Nikki was. I drove to the SPAR in Avondale road. In fact I drove so slowly we could have frikken strolled our slowest pace and we would still have gotten to the SPAR quicker. I drove so, so slowly and parked about a block away – there weren’t any  wide open parking bays near the entrance so yip I parked so far we may as well have left the blady car at home and walked. Then the guilt – I was so worried Gary would notice that the car wasn’t in the same position it had been before we ventured out. When I finally did get my license and was a legit driver we would go everywhere – the beach, botanic gardens, Sutton park swimming pool – no more walking for these two mama bears (now if that particular sentence was’nt stating the obvious, that dearest Dizabeth is the whole point of having a car – it takes you everywhere!) The one day in particular I pulled up outside Nikki’s house. We unpacked her pram, her baby bag, the beach bag, all her goodies and we were engrossed in chatting (as if we hadn’t just spent the whole morning together!) her little two year old Luke kept calling to us, we carried on and on nattering – until he frikken pricked up a brick (God alone knows how he had the strength probably because he was so irritated) anyhow he threw the brick at the car. Well dear readers that quickly put pay to our nattering.  

Remember how situations such as that one could either strengthen or break the friendship? When your kid or your friend’s kid bite and that very fine line that develops between the two moms. Eish sensitive indeed.

Getting back to the Jalopies the Robbertze family drove. NO actually before we venture into that tale let me tell you about my Vespa’s. So all my friends had cars (they had gotten their licenses as soon as they frikken learnt to read!) and yours truly, in fact, I must be kind to myself, it was a combination of not affording a car and not being determined. So I bought a second hand little yellow Vespa.

My cute first little Vespa, second one was red.

 This was when I used to work with Charmaine in the video shop and would pretend that I didn’t recognize Mr Bradfield my old teacher, whom as you will recall I had a very heavy crush on! I would zoom everywhere on that little bike, it was really sweet. However, I remember very clearly the day I had an accident. Yip dear reader I had an accident – all on my own. No one else was involved, besides the dear family who were enjoying a casual Sunday afternoon braai when Dizabeth came zooming along, skidded on the sand, yes you read correctly, nothing too dramatic – she skidded on the sand and voops off she fell. I remember I had on my precious Ladi Di courts. My word it must have been a sight to see. Yikes lucky I wasn’t at the braai – I am the world’s worst – don’t ever fall in front of me – I swear I laugh – I know it terrible trait but I do – I cackle like a frikken drake! So this casual Sunday the whole family came running to my aid. Those were the days without cell phones, so they phoned my dad who came to fetch me. I actually don’t think there was any damage to the bike, none the less dad came, there wasn’t much damage to me either besides a scrapped knee or two and a hugely bruised ego. When my dad answered I was a brave soldier until I heard his voice and being a typical girl (a very embarrassed one nogal) I started crying. Well, when he arrived I remember him lecturing me all the way home. “My girlie I cannot take this God damn aggravation, this God damn bike has got to go” blah blah blah on and on he went. The bike never went and I ensured I never slipped on sand again. Or met myself or anyone by accident.

When I started at McCann I bought my second little little Vespa, Belinda and I lived on the beachfront. We had the most gorgeous little flat, it was perfect for our needs and in the perfect location. It only had one fault- it faced into town – not the sea. (Major bummer). Anyhow, so as I was starting at McCann which is in Musgrave Centre I bought a little Vespa. Belinda on the other hand, her folks had bought her an old Peugoet it was a mustardy yellow and it was named Batman. We were always in Batman (well when I wasn’t on my Vespa). Anyhow, so the first morning I am scootering off to McCann, Belinda comes downstairs with me, she must have been seeing me off?  I got settled, slung my bag across my chest, put the helmet on together with my precious office attire and off I go. Through the morning traffic zipping in and out, up and down hills, stopping at stop streets, choffing along till I reached my destination – Musgrave Centre. I parked my Vespa neatened my outfit checked and rechecked I looked fine and caught the lift up to the 11^th floor – my first day about to commence. As I walked into reception Aneesha the receptionist greeted me with my first phone message “ Belinda phoned, she is locked out the flat, you drove off with the front door keys.” That was the start of my first day! On my little Vespa I had to get and travel all the way back to let Belinda in! Lovely first day impression. It had a little basket in the front, I recall my birthday I received quite a few beautiful bouquets of flowers, what a sight I must have looked driving home with all these flowers in the basket. Tracy (the friend who drove over my foot ) used to work with me, she would wait outside Musgrave Centre for her hubby to fetch her. Each time I whizzed past her she would casually look the other way so she did not have to acknowledge that she knew me! I remember my other friend Tracy, her boyfriend was quite a mamba with cars/bikes he very kindly offered to – actually I don’t recall what he did but after that it had more power. The problem with the Vespa is it doesn’t have gears so you are not able to gear up or down and at times this can be a problem. I do recall when it went for a service. The next morning as I traversed my usual route, along Musgrave road she started sputtering and finally came to a dead stop. A kind, early morning traffic person clearly saw my situation and stopped to assist. After failing to restart the bike we left it (in those days you could and when you got back – sure enough it would still be there – amazing hey!) so of course Dizabeth gets to work and phones the company who serviced it. I do believe even the creative department which was right at the other end of the corridor could hear as Dizabeth gave the service department a piece of her mind. They apologized profusely promising to collect it – fix whatever had gone wrong and deliver it to me at the office by the end of the day. Early that afternoon I received a call from them. My bike was all good and they wouldn’t actually be delivering it as agreed, I could in fact collect it. Of course, I was extremely indignant at this change of plans and voiced my feelings. To which they replied. “Erm the bike. It needs petrol to be able to go.” Yip Life with Dizabeth!

A very, very fond memory of my little Vespa, at this time I was living by myself, I had a very dishy, very, very dishy neighbour. He was Italian, Giovanni. I recall the first time we met, he literally did the “please do you have a cup of sugar to loan me” line. We became very good friends. No, I truly, truly promise you, we were always and only friends. I recall the one night him and I going through my wardrobe. He said that my clothes did nothing for me, so we went through the whole wardrobe tossing out the bag lady clothes. He was a real honey. When I met Gary, Giovanni and I would go out together pub crawling and so I obviously invited Gary along. I went to the loo only to get back and notice Giovanni wasn’t around. He apparently had asked Gary if he was serious about me – and the rest dear readers as they say is history. Oh my gosh, okay so that was a huge digress! The whole point of bringing Giovanni up, I remember a very special morning, I went down to zoom off to work and there in my Vespa’s basket was a little handpicked bunch of flowers. Sweet hey. I thought so and that day and everyday thereafter there was always flowers in the basket that is until he realised I was serious about Gary (or was it that Gary was serious about me?)  

My little yellow Vespa even moved on with me when I got married, heck Gary even took her for a spin or two.

Gary and I, through our married life, have had some real flippen duds car wise. In fact, thinking back, remember me mentioning my dad’s Blue Ford Granada, and how it would not start (I swear it did it purposely just to get him riled up : “I can’t take this God damn aggravation he would bellow. – so in fact way before Gary and our dud cars, there was my dad’s)  It is for this reason that Gary now always only purchases new “out the box” cars. As in my frikken Suzuki Swift that was such an unusual colour that I “had” to have – until I stopped at the robot and alongside me were three other cars with the same “unususal” colour as me!! (sigh sigh – so much for my orginality). Anyhow, we had Big Blue. We bought her in Durban just before we moved to Nelspruit. What a disaster she was! I swear not once but hell, I think if I recall – four frikken times – yip FOUR FRIKKEN times a part of her fell off as we were driving. Then there was the night we sat in her as she/we sailed through the night sky, all four of us enjoying the view as we drove through the Sabie forests. Even Gary could sit back, literally, sit back and enjoy the ride. Why, because the blady car had lost another part and we were on the back of a gigantic I mean frikken Mad Max truck. A HUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGEEEEE truck similar to the ones you always see the baddies driving in American movies. Then there was the time we were having an amazing day in Kruger, when we heard a bag clang and somehow, we all knew it wasn’t the roar of a lion, the trumpeting of an elephant or the barking of a wild dog. Nope! It was a part falling off Big Blue once again. The worst ever with her though was when we were driving to Durban, we had already had an issue at Pongola so were now huigely delayed asndriving in the dark when there was the literally the most horrendous sound, we were on the freeway, Big Blue lost control and swerved this way and that before coming to a grinding halt. The frikken propshaft had fallen off. On the freeway nogal. That day, and many, many more I am convinced we have had angels protecting us. I swear only those of you that have had a Big Blue dud of a car can know that pit of the stomach feeling when your car breaks down. Oh my word isn’t it the worst? Poor old Chad has had his fair share of dud cars – his first two – yip – not one but two dud cars! We bought him the most adorable Beetle, she was red and white and truly so, so cute, but always breaking down, and you know when a car keeps breaking down – you get over seeing what a cute car she was – as the frikken dollar signs ching chinged each time the “blady car”  goes on the fritz! After her we bought (actually it is a hellish long and very, very, truly hugely, sad story) we got conned into swopping her for a blady dud UNO. You all remember the tale of the empty nester Dizabeth? You will recall how Chad and I sang our way to Stellenbosch and Gary followed in yip the dud UNO. Each time we stopped along the way we would all hold our breath as Gary battled to start the old girl again. There were plenty moments along the way I was already imagining the three of us traveling in the one car to Stellenbosch. She got there – but soon after it was time to off load her and we bought Chad his first “out the box” car.  

The very special part of Big Blue was she got us to Nelspruit. Gary and I drove in convo with all our worldly possessions, the kids, the animals in both cars. Gary (and Big Blue) had Stinks the Lab, Alfie, and Thumper – oh and he had Chad. Ryan and I had the cat (Smudge) who meowed in the most high pitched almost Witch like call the whole way. We were eventually talking above her high-pitched meowing.  Until I asked Ryan if he heard “that”? “What he replied – hear what?” ….and that was when we both realized there was nothing to hear, Smudge had finally stopped meowing.  We also had the two birds, Roxy the African grey parrot and Cheeky bum the Sun Conure. And you never gonna believe this but swear its true, they both got out their cages so we literally each had one on our heads for the duration of the journey. I cherished my String of Pearls pot plant, I had nurtured it for frikken years. Stinks was a big fatty and with one swoop of his big ass – he sat on it – that was the end of my String of Pearls. Talking Stinks, that was amazing. We never had a pool in our Durban home. We arrived at our new Nelspruit home, let the animals, kids, plants, bunnies and all out the car. Stinks, never having been or seen our new house before, walked straight through the house out the garden and plonked himself in the pool. It truly was amazing how he knew there was a pool.

                          And we still need to fit the kids and animals in !!!

And that dear readers is the end of the road and the tale of our family and our dud Jalopies.

May the rest of the week be a wonderful ride for you all. Never forget I treasure you all and thank you gazillions for continuously being passionate about all to do with Life with Dizabath.

Stay well, healthy and be blessed.

When my boys Ryan (30 in September) and Chad (24) were born. I was preoccupied with raising them as well as I believed was the right way. In-between stressing about life as we knew it back in the day. Finances. Dummies (Lost ones). Bottles (empty or misplaced ones). Breast (definitely not lost, just pap). Not saying “th”. Not sharing toys. Not eating enough veggies. Not eating at all. Talking too soon or not talking at all. Not growing tall enough or growing too tall. I look back now and wish I had had the older wiser Dizabeth to tell me that “it will all be fine in the end, and if it’s not fine, it’s not the end” (Thanks Zeets). Looking back, I most certainly did stress the little stuff so much more than was necessary. Instead of chillaxing and letting it be. As literally in a blink of an eye, they are living their own life. You truly have no idea what they are doing, and that in itself is a godsend. You have to believe you raised them well and besides those ‘varsity years’ all you instilled in them still shines through from the little boys they left behind to the young men they are today.  Those “just of out of school” stories I have heard – no not from them but from their friends, flat-mates, girlfriends and wife I would never have survived those nights. Had I known exactly what they were up to when partying. But thank God, He protected them, and He protected me. That’s exactly why I guess we were all (most of us) young and reckless – that’s a part of growing up, isn’t it?

Ryan and Ricky

Chad and friends at Craig’s paintball party.

As crazy as this is going to sound it’s the honest truth. When the boys were small, I don’t know what I was thinking, however I never, in my wildest years believed that they would grow up and leave home. Never in a trillion years did that cross my mind. I was let’s face it, majorally naïve. Imagine them still home today, grown men in their little boy bedrooms, with the clowns that it turned out Chad was terrified of (still is) and Ryan with his bright primary-coloured curtains that looked as if the Crayola factory had exploded on them. Banging their heads on the mobiles hanging from the ceilings. We had this huge clown hanging from the ceiling (well he wasn’t huge but ja he was a fair size) he was on a swing; I was so excited when I found and bought him. Little did I know that was probably the beginning of the nightmare for Chad and his fear of clowns. Poor little chap would wake up from a peaceful slumber and have a clown staring down at him on a swing!! (who has seen the IT movies?) Oh my giddy aunt even I am thinking WTF were we think?) digressing again, as I was saying so these young men standing on blocks of Lego and lobbing F bombs across the house – tripping over pajammies strewn on the floor. From precious, cuteness overload babies morphing into angelic (really Liz really?) little boys and onto those moody teens who obsessed over PlayStation and sport. One thing though, in all these transformations, I will always, always and forever see them as my boys, my children. I will always worry and be there no matter their ages.

From doing leopard projects that are actually cheetah projects, failing fish soap carvings to helping them pack up their bedroom as their next chapter without you commences. (Actually, that is a huge lie, I was NEVER there when they packed up their rooms and in fact, I wouldn’t allow them to “pack up” as of course they would be home again). Once Ryan completed his matric, we as a family set off to Durban. He wasn’t coming home with us when our holiday was over his next chapter would commence in Durban.  And Mama Bear here well she reckoned “she’s got this”. We traversed home and I was as fine as can be – of course I was! Phh piece of frikken apple pie I was fine! We settled into our normal new routine, well I guess Gary and Chad did. I spent all my time walking around – tidying Ryan’s room, and cooking for four. That was one thing that took me forever to master, cooking for three and then cooking for two. I can still see Gary and Chad’s unimpressed faces, Monday night whooeeee Cottage pie for dins. Tuesday night …. erh ok cottage pie it is …. Wednesday night seriously? All of you that have boys, you know you always double a meal as there is never enough, so yip I was still doubling each meal. What about going shopping and chucking in their favourite treats in the trolley as you wander aimlessly around the store. Remembering that you needn’t buy their favourite treats. But nevertheless, you did, although Chad loved that.

Chad is a natural swimmer. He really is a fantastic swimmer. He is really amazing at long distance (Midmar – so that we never ever did whilst we lived in Durban) yip…the year we moved he decided what a great idea so each year we would travel back for him to participate. Although we did all love it and it was a great visit as we would always see Ryan. So, he would have swimming everyday after school. I would drop him off and collect him later. Before we go on, I have to share this little tale. So,  Chad swam, we knew he loved swimming but really could not stand competitive swimming in any form. His coach would really push him as he was, as I stated a natural. He was never as committed as his fellow swimmers but sure enough he would scoop up all the golds in gala’s. But yes, he detested it – he stopped training eventually. When I asked, he said that Liesl had said he was such a natural he didn’t need to train. So, there was proud mama bear – my boy didn’t need to train. I mean as if …imagine if Tatiana had said that and her mama had believed her – she certainly would not be SA’s golden girl – anyhow, digressing again! So, Chad stropped training, every time I bumped into Liesl at the shops she would conveniently move to another aisle. I never thought anything of it. Until years later a friend happened to mention how Liesl had been so upset when Chad’s mom had told him to tell the coach she wasn’t interested in dropping him and fetching him from training anymore so he would not be coming anymore. Yip! That sweet child if mine actually did that. Anyhow, so funny enough this day Liesl did drop Chad off after training – hmm that was probably the day he told her this elaborate fabrication? But there was me, Chad was at training, Gary was at work and my dear Ryan was living his life in Durban – without his mama bear. I was sitting in the lounge literally wallowing in self-pity. I swear I was having a really good sobbing session. Think of the saddest movie you have ever seen. You know the way you cried when she/he died/left/cheated…… that was me. I swear I could hardly breath for sobbing. When through the front door walked Chad. Now remembering as mom’s, we all believe we are Super Mom, there was no way I was going to let Chad know just how broken-hearted I was that Ryan no longer lived at home. So, he walked in – and was “ma what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”. To which I replied, “ah my boy I am just watching this program and it is SO SO sad.” To which he very, very unconvinced replied “oh ok”. The TV was on yes. BUT the sound was down, and it was on Binnelanders (my Afrikaans is definitely not that good!)

I recall been invited to a friend’s baby shower. Oh, my word, I can remember as clear as day. Clearly, I was, besides the family members being the mom, granny and aunties, I was the oldest. Remember my oldest had already left home! So, I sat there – and just watched these young mama bears and pitied them. I swear I sat there watching them tending to their little ones, and their little ones playing up as they usually do when you want them to behave as you are in a public place. Anyhow, I recall just thinking sjoe before you know it – they are going to be all grown up and living their own lives.  And as for the little ones. I looked at them and thought – and you – you little shits are going to break your mama bear’s hearts.

So, yip, as you have gathered, I had some adjusting to make when Ryan left home. I admit I did take it badly; I was truly heart broken. Until the day I had an epiphany. I was on Facebook and there before my eyes was my dearest, oldest child at a beach party. Having an absolute ball – as he should have been. Living his life – and that dear reader was the moment I realized. Hey, he still loves you – he has stretched his wings and is enjoying his life – isn’t it time you continued with yours? You know he will always be your son but its time to start this new chapter – and so I did.

There is five and half years between Chad and Ryan. So here is a fun fact – when Gary and I got married we did engagement classes. But when we got married it was only then that I learnt that Gary didn’t want children. I was seriously a case of “WTF?? Well buddy I do want kids” anyhow if the truth be known after many, many nights of sobbing myself to sleep Gary relented and said “ok one” well that was me I was delighted. Ryan – my blady luck was a colic baby from two weeks old. Which clearly did not bode well for me – Gary would look at me with that look – he would arrive home from work not only to a very, very upset pain-filled baby but a truly high stressed-out wife! I remember the day I literally threw all the baby books – remember Dr Spock! Anyhow he maintained that Ryan was having temper tantrums – yip at two weeks that was his theory as to the daily crying. Ryan was my life for just under five years – when I decided – he really should have a sibling. And the rest, clearly is obvious as there we have 24-year-old Chad.

 Anyhow, so when Ryan left home Chad was in his latter primary school years. He went on to high school. He, I guess was an “only child”. I would take and fetch him to and from school on most days, he did the usual after-school sports, rugby on Saturdays – we continued with our family routine. Ryan would pop home for holidays. I remember with such a full heart, the day I was lying reading – yip – no prizes for guessing – it was indeed the YOU magazine. It was a wintery day, and I was lying in the sunny spare room, when Ryan rang. I was super excited “hello my angel what’s up?” he asked what I was doing, I replied I was reading to which he replied, “Don’t you want to come fetch me from Citybug”. He often would surprise us that way – it was fantastic.

Anyhow, so there was Chad. He has a fantastic bunch of friends (as does Ryan) and invariably these boys would be at our house. I used to love listening to the banter as they played PlayStation, touch rugby/spent hours in the pool. I recall the day they broke my lilo and no one would own up – now that was a bad mama day – I was furious! Those days were soon replaced with Lorraine and me being the to and fro lifts as the boys went to The Jock, or wherever the “jol” was that night. Their first crushes, their first girlfriends and their first heartbreak.

Chad waiting for his friends to arrive before they went partying note beautiful Smudge who is still with us today.

Chad played hard, but also worked hard. Soon he was in matric. Now our study is clearly visible as you drive into the property. Each day I would pull into the driveway. By now Chad had his license and drove a cute little red beetle. There Chad would be sitting studying diligently as I drove in. I would watch from my car – until the day he had written his final paper – I drove into the driveway and that young man was not sitting at his desk in the study. Reality hit me and I – yip you guessed it – I sat and balled and balled in the car. I was “that” mama again.

In the end of January Chad who had had a shoulder op after injuring his shoulder at rugby – packed up his room, and his next chapter commenced. Stellenbosch.  It’s a very long story for another day, but by now he was driving a clapped out (we never knew it was clapped out until it was too late) UNO. We packed my car (I have always refused to drive other people’s cars – I know weird woman this Dizabeth is) so Gary drove Chad’s car – as remember he had had surgery so could not drive. Off we set for Stellenbosch. For those that live in Nelspruit – you will definitely appreciate the short distance. In fact, since I have become a walker – it is probably just over 5kms from our house. So, there we were – we had entered the freeway and our journey had commenced – 5kms away from home remember. My cell rang, Chad answered it and ever so casually said “Ma dad says please can you step up the tempo just a bit we are not on a drive to the Ilanga Mall – we have a fair distance ahead of us”.  Just typing this it has sparked a memory. Lorraine’s hubby had a racetrack, you know those that’s it – go cars – is that what they called – shucks can’t recall but have a vivid memory of me circling the track. We had a Friday afternoon girls’ session – there was Bev, Lorrs, Vanessa, Wends, Chrissie and Dizabeth. Well, these girls I swear their frikken hair was blowing in the wind like a frikken tornado as they sped past dear old Dizabeth who was going ever, ever so slowly and braking each time she got anywhere close to a “dangerous” corner. That was they day I became known as “Driving Miss Daisy” – each time it was my turn to lift everyone had a genuine reason why Dizabeth could in fact catch a ride with them!

So, there we were driving Chad to Stellenbosch. He had to my utmost surprise compiled the most amazing compilation of music.  I have a great love for my music, as did my dad and as does Chad. So, we would drive along listening to some real real heavy stuff…. I actually cannot even begin to tell you the name of the singers or bands – but it would be hectic I mean really hectic songs that Chad had, “I want to …. you” with really really heavy metal type genre and the F bombs that reverberated through the car – oh my giddy aunt. I would just be thinking – yikes this is WILD – whilst Chad sat next to me with his air guitar or drum renditions – when the next song would we “I’m leaving today – New York New York”  (actually quite an apt tune considering the reason for this road trip  – well done Chad) – Frank Sinatra – The Guitar man – Billy Joel – followed by heavy metal shit – then Eric Clapton – then heavy metal – Laura Branigan – Bread, Bee Gees …heavy metal. It is to this day one of the fondest memories I embrace.  We traversed plenty that first day – in all types of weather. Chad would fall asleep and that would be when I would rewind the music to my favourites. We drove through Johannesburg where we nearly wiped out a trillion times as Miss Daisy “innocently” started moving across to the right-hand lane – very much aware of the hectic drivers behind her – but truly believing she was still driving in Nelspruit where your fellow drivers do smile and wave and let you in. I recall Chad waking to the sound of frikken thousands of hooters blaring at us “WTF ma! Are you trying to kill us?” he bellowed. The plan was to drive through to Bloemfontein and sleep the night there. Well to this day, I still am not totally sure if that really was the plan. When we got there, it was close on 6pm and didn’t Chad and Gary sidle up to me with their joint decision that we would drive on another 2 hours to Colesburg. (Think it was Colesburg) I swear I thought I was gonna plutz. Never mind the truly horrendous torrential storm we drove through soon after leaving Bloem.  Chad “encouraging” me as we whizzed through the storm (me not at all happily). I remember hitting 135kms whilst overtaking 5 trucks – yip 5 trucks with Chad chirping “Be lega ma le lega!”.

We arrived safely in Stellenbosch. The next morning bright and early we headed to the university. Now that is also a story for another day! Oh, my word it is like a whole frikken city on its own. We walked plenty that day. Chad would go to this lecture hall and that lecture hall – we would walk around in awe of my child’s new home. I spent hours kitting out his room. Oh, and sidling up to whatever lecturer I thought would hear my plight and promise me he/she would keep an eye on my dear boy and let me know the instant he appeared stressed/homesick whatever, to which none would commit – or even listen to me! The day we needed to head for home, well, yip you don’t need a whole paragraph on that! You got the jist after Ryan left home.

I have always figured it sucks as when one party is sad that their loved ones are leaving on the other side of the country/world is another party doing cartwheels as they await the arrival of said loved one. So, it still is to this day when both my boys are heading for Nellies for a visit.  

The most wonderful memories were also created, and I will be forever grateful to my present company. We would have our yearly conference; our head office is in Cape Town. So, yip, you get the picture. After conference I would head off to spend a night or two with Chad. He resided in a commune. I recall after conference, walking into his commune and immediately tidying up. I was over the moon as I was going to order Chinese takeout to which Chad maturely replied “no ma I have taken out mince” – and that night didn’t I end up cooking the frikken mince whilst he went to Fabio’s to supposedly collect his laundry – he conveniently walked in as the mince was ready.  

The first days after we deposited him in his new home. Two things stick out so vividly. The Monday morning, he phoned to ask me to phone his landlord who lived in the main house of the cottage he was renting. Please would I phone Frans and ask him to please sort out the electricity. He was on pre-paid. Yip. He did, he phoned his mama in Nellies to phone his landlord a mere 10 steps (maybe more) away from him. The second, shame this was heart breaking. It was his birthday – he woke, showered came out the shower ready to cycle to Uni – only to notice his bike wasn’t in the lounge. Turned out a “bergie” had had the frikken cheek to actually open his sliding door (nope he wasn’t a wizened young man as yet and had not locked the sliding door! After all that’s what his parentals were there for weren’t they?) and the bergie stole it. Chad sat up that whole night by his trolley he had swapped the bike for – waiting for him to return to collect his world possessions. What Chad hoped to do if he returned – God alone knows – thank God the Bergie never returned. Chad had an exhausting day at Uni after waiting up all night (hmmm well so he says …. Bets are he didn’t even go to Uni that day now that I reflect?)

So, we wind up this week’s blog, with my precious boys as I mentioned, Ryan nearing 30 with our handsomest, gorgeousest little grandson Tide who is already two, his beautiful wife my skoon dogter Michelle. And Chaddy living in Newlands with his old school friend, from way back Fabio as his flat mate and beautiful Monet his girlfriend. He is working in marketing and doing doing well for himself. So, both my boys are real gems and to be honest – they are my everything.

My pets are now my “boys” – crazy that hey. We go to braai’s now and invariably in our group of friends our dogs are with us and the stories we relate to each other are about what Bandit, Oslo or Rolo did next, what they are eating now.

I for one am truly hoping this wintery chill has plans to stay for the coming week. I truly am not looking forward to summer (and to think this woman once lay on a beach in holey underwear lapping up the dread sun!)

Please stay safe, warm and especially healthy.

Till next time that’s a wrap my lovelies.

Who remembers catching the bus to and from work? Years ago (I mean Yeeeeeeaaaaaars – a – go, waaaaaay before I met Gary) my bestie Alex and I moved to Cape Town. We lived in Camps Bay, I cannot remember the exact why and how besides the fact I clearly didn’t have a car – otherwise I wouldn’t have been bussing it would I? I do recall – yip I am a little embarrassed to admit this, but I didn’t have my license back then so never mind not having a car. (It seems I was and maybe continue to be a late bloomer in a lot of ways hey?) Anyhow that was a huge digress so as I was saying I would catch the bus. First and foremost, in the winter it was the bleakest. At 6.45am I would be at the bus stop, with passing cars splooshing water on my feet from the incessant rains. (We all know a Cape winter). Ohhhh my giddy aunt! So, I would catch the bus and I recall maybe it was the first time, gosh it must have been the first time, as surely I would have known where the heck to get off. So let’s assume it was the first time, I caught the bus home and didn’t I get off at the wrong blady stop! Shucks and it was another blady planet away from where we lived. Those were the days I need to add when we all trusted one another, yip we even trusted strangers. When one saw a bleak, rain-soaked young lady walking forlornly along the darkening road (remember it’s a Cape Winter and so the sun is gone by just after 4ish) and so this very kind lady picked up this forlorn lost soul and dropped her off at her address, which as I mentioned was another planet away from where she got off the blady bus!! I recall the road was called Helly Hutchinson …or something like that.

 With my first job I would also traverse by bus. Dad would drop me off in the mornings. He had a little electric shop in Mark Lane, I would catch a lift and walk from there to my office. In the afternoons (I have no idea why I didn’t come home with dad?) But I would catch the bus from Field Street. It was the same people every day, it was amazing as it was the same driver every day too. I recall if any of your fellow passengers were late we would holler to the driver “Wait here he/she comes now” as the person raced after the bus and he would wait. If they weren’t there for a couple of days, we would be so concerned and delighted when they returned from wherever they had been. Remember these were before we all clutched onto our cellular devices, we couldn’t whats app them to find out where/how they were. My word how life has changed hey? I met my flatmate Belinda on the bus – she was one of the regulars on our bus from town to Durban North. Each afternoon she would sit right at the back and knit. It was a bright game pink almost fisherman style jersey, well I believe that was her intention, I don’t recall her ever actually wearing the completed luminous pink jersey. Hmm I must ask her. Belinda, she is a story for another day.

 I am pondering to myself now, there are many reasons I am loving my BLOG, the memories that I awaken each week being one, as I was washing my dishes now and thinking back who recalls travelling on the double decker busses? Clipping your ticket and racing up those very steep and narrow stairs to the top deck. Sitting right in the front so you could see ahead of the bus driver. There was a time I experienced a variety of reoccurring nightmares about the bus. Missing my bus, I recall the panic as I would see the bus driving away, another dream was I didn’t know which was my stop. They were truly real and panicky dreams. Weird hey? Interesting actually the interpretation of our dreams. Why we dream? Why some of the dreams are so vivid, and reoccurring? And then there are those that say they don’t dream. Ok, before I drift off into Dreamland, let me catch this and continue with the Alex Agendas.

Alex and I met at Umhlanga Sands, remember I mentioned previously how Charmaine and I would pretend we had been there. Describing how to find ones’ way to the actual disco etc., and how the girls in housecraft (home economics) caught us out as it was nowhere near what we had described, because in fact we had never been! So, now this time, I was really there. In fact, so were Charmaine and I in later years (She met her hubby at Coco de Mere). Anyhow so yip Alex and I – oh my word did her and I “jol” up a storm! How the hell we both survived those years, God alone knows. It’s amazing that I am actually writing about “those” years. That I even recall those years!!! (considering all the wine we used to consume). Shucks one of the things that I will always remember is how beautiful Alex was, and still is. She is beautiful inside and out and she is a fellow Taurean. Not that I am a firm believer in star signs. Actually I don’t even know why I added this bit in? We truly clicked and had the best fun ever. Not all was innocent mind you, we were rather naughty and sometimes I hate to admit a tad bit too wild. When I look back on those days it was the kind of wild that I thank God I was blessed with sons and not daughters! And in fact, we were definitely blessed with angels that looked after us. I am sure we were “cats” actually and between the two of us we used up way more than nine lives (sigh sigh). One life I recall so clearly. The night of the Magoo’s bombing. Alex and I were at Tall Ships at the Elangeni in Durban when we decided we would venture off to Umhlanga. My cousin owned a restaurant, he was (still is) fairly brilliant in his field and his restaurant was really an amazing place and also a place to be seen. So, this night on a whim (thank goodness) we decided Tall ships wasn’t for us, and off we beetled to my cousin. That night was no different to all previous nights, we partied up and storm when it was time to head home (translated: when we had consumed way too many vino’s) we headed on home. As I have mentioned I didn’t drive, so Alex was always the designated driver – yikes the state she drove us in. I shudder to think how many times we tempted fate. I recall, there were so few roadblocks I think they would only be set up during the festive season. I do recall the one night, for some bizarre reason we hadn’t been consuming any alcoholic “refreshers” (last thing that booze does is refresh one) and we were so chuffed about this that we purposely drove to and through a roadblock. Our fellow road users were hyper ventilating as they realized what the stop and start was about. Not Alex and Dizabeth – we proudly ticked all the boxes, seat belts: – check, license disk: – check, tyres: – check, sober : check Check! . All was good to go and there we were, eagerly awaiting the traffic cop. What a difference it must have made for Alex especially I know to this day, I am totally “good to go” license disk in order, seat belt on – and you see a traffic officer and you immediately break out into a sweat. Drop your cell phone that you

weren’t even talking on, turn the music down, and your radio wasn’t even on. What is it about a traffic officer? The thing is I reckon they know it, bet they wake up and say, “Honey I am leaving for the day, going to scare the bageebees out of the law-abiding drivers again”.  Anyhow, back to the night of the Magoo’s bombing. So, we decided to head home and as I occasionally did, I slept over at Alex. Well, the next morning when we finally awoke from our drunken slumber I headed home. My mom and dad literally went ballistic. Having my own kids now, I have lived that terror and worry a thousand times. In fact, I will never forget my dad saying one night that I would never appreciate the worry until I had kids of my own. Of that he was 1000% correct. Anyhow, so I walked into the house and my parents went ballistic. That night two woman had died in the bombing. I am ashamed to admit this, but it never crossed either of our minds to phone our loved ones and tell them we were fine. We didn’t even think about finding a ticky box and making that call, I am ashamed to admit. I never went home, obviously my parents had assumed the worst. Anyhow, I remember I was horrified when right there and then, once they had hugged me and told me never to ever, ever to do that again, my mom proceeded to gate me. Yip dear reader. She did in fact gate me. I was horrified, but you know as I am typing this for the first time ever, I so, so, so can relate to her. I remember when Chad was in Uni he came home for the mid-year break and did exactly that. Went out but never came home. Now as much as you try reassure yourself that all is good, its natural (well for me!) to always think the worst. So, when I woke at 2amish and realised he wasn’t home I tossed and turned for the rest of the night. At around 8amish I was in my office (remember I work from home – yip lucky me) anyhow, I heard him arrive. He called out “Howzit Ma, where are you?” I replied “I am in my office give me a minute I am calling off the search party!” he laughed and explained, being in Uni and so actually living his own life, playing now by his own rules, when out it didn’t cross his mind that I may be worried as back home (Uni) he didn’t have to worry about anyone waiting for him to return. I guess it made sense but sjoe always a hard one for a mama bear. (You were right dad – you were right).  Oh my word, talking coming home “late”. I recall a time, I was SO, SO, SO, SO, SO in love with this guy Colin. The one night we stayed out all night. Swear we truly didn’t do any of the things you may be thinking you could do when you out all night (ja ja – don’t deny you were thinking that!) so he dropped me off at 6amish. Now I knew my mom, she would be up already, probably on her 2^nd or 3^rd glass of “water” and probably in her reading chair reading about gods that go clickerty clack. So, I tried very hard to convince Colin all would be good and he really, really didn’t need to walk me to the blady front door. But nope he insisted. So, there I was playing it ever so cool putting my front door key in the keyhole and it not opening, so I casually try again. But by now I have realised this is my mom’s doing, and as I am thinking how the frik am I gonna get him to leave – and leave now – when BAM … The front door swings open and there stands my mom. Colin being the gentleman he is starts apologising to my mom for bringing me home so late. Well, my mom literally spat back at him “So late, so late! This isn’t late, this is early!!!!” oh my word I literally prayed for the earth to part and let me fall into a deep black hole. It didn’t.

Sjoe, I really am jumping all over the place this week aren’t I. So,on the subject of being a major party animal and still living at home. I recall the day Alex and I went out Friday night, then the Saturday afternoon we went to a little pub under the stairs, at the Royal Hotel. This particular afternoon we partied up a storm with the idea to go home, freshen up and go out again. I do recall whilst we were at this pub planning the night ahead, that I really wasn’t feeling that great and was a bit unsure if I would even make it to getting home to freshen up, never mind partying further that night. What I do recall, oh my frikken word, this was the worst!!! Our telephone was on those – do you remember the telephone table? Well, ours was in the entrance hall, and the entrance hall led into the lounge, and in the lounge on a casual Saturday night, mom and dad sat in their usual chairs and watched television. This night was no different except for the fact that I was not a tad but a whole lot drunk. Yip told you before I do love my wine and in those days (tsk tsk!)– well let’s leave it at that.  I am typing thinking sjoe Dizabeth should we even share this horrendous story? But since I have got this far, I guess I cannot leave my dear readers in suspense as to what transpired that ordinary Saturday night whilst my folks sat watching television. So here we go. Brace yourselves. I was lying on my bed on my own fair ground, I was on the spinning wheel otherwise known as a bed. My mom hollered through that Alex was on the phone for me. I literally came staggering through, sat down and on and on Alex went about where we were going. I felt as if I was at sea, on a ship being tossed across the ocean. (If you have ever experienced sea-sickness you are sure to appreciate just how bad I felt). Next thing I can feel the pit of my stomach tornado-ing up, up and over! There I was being sick. I swear it was terrible, and all I recall from that was hearing Alex cackling like a drake – oh my word it was so bad. Imagine how awesome I felt having to clean up after! Agh. But did I learn from that occasion? From consuming way too much on a Saturday afternoon. Indeed, I did not! As far as my memory serves mom didn’t say a word, neither did dad that night – or ever.

Whilst I am throwing myself under the bus so, so badly, I may as well share with you the time Alex and I – we were with friends’ and they had dagga. We decided to give it a try. Oh my word, didn’t I soon enough feel like I was once again at sea shucks I recall feeling dreadful. I crawled under the table and slept only to awaken with the most enormous hunger sometime later. Little did I know, in later years, when I was a mama bear (and a fairly responsible adult) because I was in advertising, we were blessed that we would receive complimentary tickets to everything and I mean everything. This occasion it was to see UB40 live at the old rugby stadium. It was clearly packed and somewhere in the crowd close to us (in fact they were sitting behind us) there was a crowd smoking weed which as we all know (no come on, don’t act like you don’t know the scent of weed being smoked).

And didn’t I throw a wobbly of note. Which blew up in my face. The crowd I was with literally wanted to die with embarrassment, when Fuddy Duddy me started complaining about the stench of the weed and them smoking it. Remember back in the day it was illegal. I at one stage even threatened them with me calling the police to which one replied “okay cool lets go find them I will come with you.” Now Obviously I wasn’t really going to call the police, I was using scare tactics which clearly didn’t work.

Then there was the time I came home inebriated (yes one of many times)  it “could”have been yet another afternoon of copious amount of liquor, not too sure – hahahahaha. It was evening and I was starving, as one is when one has consumed copious amounts without eating. Dad was once again in the lounge watching television. I decided to do a quick sticks meal – didn’t I put an egg in the microwave to boil. No jokes I did, and obviously it did what any egg still in its shell will do if placed in the blady microwave. It exploded!! I recall this night I casually was watching television with dad when we heard one almighty explosion. Dad went rushing through to discover smashed egg all over the inside of the microwave. I recall he was super, super angry and I was so casual – “ahh dad what’s a bit of egg”. That night I do recall dad tidying it up. Clearly, I was in no state to blow up an egg and then tidy away the evidence before God forbid my mom found it.

The last tale I will share for today was the Easter weekend. Alex and I once again went joling. Our favourite haunt was The Cattleman and Fat Franks. Gosh I remember we would walk in, remember I mentioned how gorgeous Alex was (is). So, we (she) would make her grand entrance into the establishment and you could literally see the guys staring at her. On the rare occasion they would stare at me and then start up a conversation with me. I would be super chuffed, until they got to why they had started the conversation in the first place. To ask what my friends name was!

Being the Easter weekend, I recall not all the places were open. But wherever we had been we had partied as usual. I think we were pub crawling that night. (Bit vague) anyhow we ended up at the Holiday Inn that is now an old age home next to the ice rink in Durban. As it was Easter there was a display in the reception area and in this display was a cute, fluffy live bunny.

The next morning I was woken by mom calling me through – “Alex was on the phone”.

“Hey friend what’s up?” (No NOT whats app!) to which she replied “Why the heck is there a bunny in my bedroom?”

Yip the night before after a glass too many we decided the bunny needed a new home! That bunny lived a happy and healthy life from that Sunday mid-morning at the local Animal farm that was across from where Suncoast is now.

And that dear reader is a wrap, again I apologise for the tardiness in my timing of this weekly (ha! weekly my bum in a drum!) but I truly always find myself so busy, what with work and everyday life. So what I am going to do – going forward I will try my utmost the write and publish EVERY week. At this stage I don’t want to promise a specific day, so when it is written I will do as I already do, I will place a notice on Facebook on my page as well as (gosh aren’t I stating the blady obvious here!) On Dizabeth’s page.

Take care, stay safe and healthy my lovelies until next week.

Mwah mwah 

PS: I also want to apologise for any grammar and spelling errors you may spot – I read, re-read – check – double check and sometimes because I have read through it so often, I honestly don’t see the wood for the trees – and this is when the blady weeds (errors) sprout. So, I am truly sorry going forward for any mistook but I do love you all dearly.

This evening I am typing away, tucked in, snug as a bug with a wooly blanket wrapped around my legs, and my very, very, sexy gown and slippers. I am loving winter especially the current winter weather. My absolute best (winter I am meaning).  Crazy if we think back on those days I would laze on the beach (in my undies, kidding, besides that one time ☹) I cannot remember when last, oh wait a minute, it was in January this year! I lay on the beach, ok, no I didn’t “lie” on the beach I sat on a frikken, frizzo, windy Cape Beach whilst Chad, Michael, and Gary scuba dived. It was at Boulders – those seals and penguins too blady cute. I have to confess at my age I have still not learnt and looked like a blady beetroot for the remainder of the trip! But I don’t think I realized just how burnt I was getting because no jokes, that wind was biting cold. Anyhow so this week is a let’s say, part two of last week but with a bit of my darling husband and kids included in the oopsies.

Hello …so yip not sure if you have guessed but it takes me a couple of days to write my weekly (weakly) blog. So tonight I am sitting here, Gary is watching the Lion vs SA …SA 12 Lions 3….I am sitting, of course have my glass of wine the same scenario as the other night, my gown, slippers, blanket (it’s a blood donar one, noooooo nooo don’t be impressed it belongs to Gary) and tonight have added a few extra “fashion” items such as a beanie and fingerless gloves. 

Okay, so where were we when I last signed off? Ah, Part two. So, before we go any further I bloopsed again last night and that made me wonder: We will always have “she did it again” blog! (Ah sigh sigh…as I have said before imagine the poor souls that are living everyday with me and imagine dear ol me!) So last night we were invited to dinner (it was the yummiest oxtail – thank you Lynn and Brett) anyhow, so I said I would bring a dessert. Now, I do believe I have confessed this before, I am a “box baker”. So last night was no exception. I read the box instructions, read them again and Bobs your uncle I created a whizzo Malva pudding. BUT dear reader, here comes the bloops. There were two packets in the box. The first obviously was the actual Malva which I added oil, egg, milk blah blah, whizzed it up in the beater. All good. Then the second packet was the “sauce” it said: add to the mixture, I was like hell no, I bought pouring ready-made custard from Woolies so we are soo good! When it came to dessert, everyone was “wow this is really crispy and not the usual malva moistness, what did you do so differently?” I never thought anything until this morning, tidying my kitchen there was this little packet of “sauce mix” forlornly sitting on the kitchen counter probably needing therapy. Well dear reader that’s what I frikken did so differently!

I am quite excited I have to share. I have signed up for a new Tablet. A Samsung …blah dee blah …I am soooo useless at techno. Anything in the IT department and I am definitely “Thank you and goodbye!”. I remember when Chad was in Grade 11, he was leaving for school and Gary asked if he had his tablet. Oh, my word didn’t I run after them asking why did he need a tablet and why hadn’t he mentioned to me he wasn’t feeling well. Yip you can imagine both their faces, I am pretty sure they were counting their blessings that they were off to work and school for the day.

You know, I have to confess often I see ladies wearing slippers with their day wear. I tend to be a bit “judgy” if I am honest. I think to myself such a nice outfit, and then the slippers, really? The other day I did exactly this, however, this lady jolted my memory big time. When we first moved here, it was July (in fact 9th July we started our 15th year here in Nellies – oh my word if I recall (and so do a few of you, as you were on the receiving side. I used to phone home every night, and lament on and on about how much I wanted to come home, and how much I hated it here, crazy how life is hey? I am so content now). Anyhow so it was July and I saw an article (yip here we go, good ol’ YOU magazine) on their fashion pages, and if that wasn’t enough to seal my decision, there also on the entertainment pages all the movie stars and models were wearing UG boots. And since I was in a  “missing home” state (blatant lie, no excuses ever needed to shop) off I went and bought a pair. I wore them (proudly) everywhere truly being the trendoid I was coming from Durban nogal, I showed these Nelspruiters a thing about fashion. Or did I? After a couple of weeks I noticed they were taking quite a bit of strain, and the soles were falling apart, literally thinning, wearing through the innards spewing out, as the foam from a cushion that has been torn apart by a new puppy would. No one ever said anything, I guess they were oh well she is from the sea and at least she isn’t wearing flip flops. It turned out, they were frikken slippers. I see them every winter on the Woolworths shoe rack, of course, I don’t mention a word these days and I certainly only wear them at night and only at home. Actually, thinking about it now about 8 weeks after we arrived here, my sister came to spend the week with me. It was soon after then that she “surprised” me with a pair of Cape Union slippers. Hmmm now that I think about this, there was a method to her “surprise”. Since I have already laid myself open, I may as well add, I was a huge fan of crocs. Oh yes, dear reader I certainly was. I even bought the little various charms that you could add to your pair.  Mine were blady white as well. I know dreadful! Then, I was doing flick flacks as I entered (yes I really did go as far as entering a competition to win a pair) they were black, red strap at the back and the little (or big) holes were in the shape of Mickey Mouse. In fact, if I recall I actually entered to win them for Chad. When I won and they arrived he was “hell no ma I wouldn’t be seen dead in those!”

Whilst we talking about Chad. He did particularly well in a Math test, and I decided to treat him. Here in Nellies (actually, not so much now, no actually, yes to this day) we are quite starved for restaurant franchises etc., and Kauai had just opened here. So as is the norm. Nelspruiters’ frequented it in their droves. We had ordered him a Peanut Butter smoothie and were sitting at our table when this total stranger walked up and truly, truly she was delighted to see me. “How are you? Sjoe, how long has it been? It has been ages and ages. What’s news, how are the girls? (She went on to even name the two girls which presumably were my daughters) she kept giving Chad a perplexed sideways glance. Of course with each question I answered her: “The girls were great. Yes they had grown so much, and yes, she was correct they were in Uni now”…..blah blah blah …on and on I went.  I swear it was at least fifteen minutes of “catching up”. Maybe it wasn’t that long but it sure felt like it! When she had finally satiated her curiosity she ended by asking me to send my love to the ladies of the book club and off she tootled. Chad casually asked “who was that ma?” to which I replied “I have no idea I have never met her in my life”. Chad was gob-smacked, why hadn’t I just said I am sorry I think you have the wrong person. What’s the bets, the next time she was at book club she shared with the book clubbers “Did you ladies know she has a son, or heaven forbid, is she having an affair with a school boy?”  

Now dear reader, I don’t know why, but to this day, I just cannot. I rather play along. Why? I have no idea.  Have I shared the story of the neighbour? Her name was Linda, she would “coee” over the hedge. “Sue, put your car in the garage there is going to be hail” – “Sue have you seen my cat?” “Sue do you have electricity?” When I met her I said I was Liz …I reckon I must have a Sue face as she isn’t the first and no doubt me being me, she wont be the last who knows me as Sue.  The amazing thing here is, I would be inside and hear her calling “Sue” and out I would be interacting with her. The boys and Gary used to just laugh.

And at that, Gary: well dear readers I do believe we are both getting older. ( Some older than others and at a more rapid rate) these days we both head towards a room with a mission only to wander back at a much slower pace with confusion mapped across our faces. We completely forgot what our mission was and where we were heading. When Chad was still home (so that was at least nearly ..sjoe no cant be …five years ago?) anyhow Gary when he loses it …he loses it! This particular day he had misplaced his glasses. Oh my word, he went on and on about it. I eventually dropped whatever I was doing, yip that’s what you do if you don’t want a major tantrum! I searched high and low and in-between no luck. That is until Chad asked what the drama unfolding was all about, exasperated I explained that dad had mislaid his glasses – to which he replied so nonchantly “dad, you wearing them”. Yip dear reader both of us never even noticed, in our panicked state over a pair of blady glasses. I will not mention the fluttering and fast beating of my heart I have experienced on the numerous occasions I have “lost” my car at the mall.

Whilst we on a roll with Gary, let me relate the time we were at Tala. The boys were still quite young and so we would frequent Tala Game Reserve. But this dear readers was our first visit. Gary has never outwardly admitted to me, however I do believe (from experiences over the past thirty two years) he gets hellish anxious when in new terrain that he isn’t ofay with. So, this day we excitedly exploring the reserve when we get stuck in a puddle of solid mud. Let me add now it was in the early days of cellphones. And I (of course) had one, Gary didn’t “need” one were his words. So, there we are stuck in the mud and Gary starts showing me what I need to do with the bakkie. “you let it idle and then…..” so I asked “Why where are you going?” to which he replied in an extremely irritated tone “Well obviously I am going to have to walk and seek help!!” Ah now dear reader, I did so love the next moment. I ever so causally picked up my bright Game pink brick of a cellphone and dripping in sarcasm asked him “Why don’t we just phone the reception and ask them to bring help?” as I started dialing the number on their brochure. It was on one of these trips too. Gary may be anxious when it comes to unknown territory but Lordy he is not at all scared when it comes to animals (wild included here). For those of you that have been to Tala (well back in the day) there were giraffes

 (Rafes as Tide would say) pumbas, Zebbie Zebras (did you know you call a herd of Zebras – a Dazzle – stunning hey!) wildebeest – you get the idea, lots of game and there were ostriches. One in particular, he even had a name which evades me right now. But he would come up to the car. And of course Croc Dundee who was in our party would have to interact with the animal. This day his gran, Ef, was with us, so I do believe he was showing off even more so and proceeded to get out the car and walk towards the “tame” ostrich. I will never be able to explain – it truly was a case of having to be there to witness this. The ostrich came running with his large wings flapping towards Croc Dundee. Croc Dundee shrunk into more than half the man he stands as – as he tried to protect both the crown jewels and his eyes. Dear reader as I am typing this I am cackling like a frikken drake. Oh my word is was hysterical. Ef got such a fright I do believe she thought that was the last time she would be seeing her grandson alive. Croc Dundee’s wife, well she couldn’t breathe. She was laughing so much. She was busy searching her bag to wipe away the tears.

It was Mr. Croc Dundee, who was also recently blady responsible for getting my precious bottles of wine confiscated. Have I mentioned that truly sad tale? In late December remember Mr. President changed the lockdown level for Old/New years? We flew home from Cape Town on the 1^st January. Yes there is no denying, and yes, we had already paid on the way to Cape Town for my case which was over weight and as any of your ladies will appreciate, clearly after our trip it was definitely going to be over the required baggage weight allowance. So Mr. Croc Dundee refused permission for Mrs. Dundee to place her vino in her case and yip the rest of the story is a truly, tragic, tragic story. They asked me as I “casually” walked through the detector who this bag belonged to. And as much as I tried to woe her and distract her by saying how stunning her hair, wig, shoes, uniform etc. was she replied “Sorrrrrry as she handed the bottles to her colleague, whom I watched  literally in slow motion walk away and toss them in the bin. I can still hear that horrendous sound as they smashed into a million droplets of wasted wine☹.

Before I run off, I do need to share with you the truly silly but typically typical story of Dizabeth and the “runner”. I do believe this is the day Ryan promised himself the day he finished school wasn’t far off. He no doubt told himself to hang in there and keep remembering that soonish he would be able to just hear these stories and not actually witness or God forbid be a part of them. We were driving and passed a lady running. I started to slow the car down, to which Ryan enquired why was I stopping. I passionately replied “Shame boy this lady is obviously going to miss her bus, she is running to the bus lets give her a lift to the bus stop” to which Ryan indignantly replied. “Mom she is exercising, as in running!”

One of Chad’s moments with dearest Mama Bear Dizabeth. Actually, Chad could write a book, probably a mini-series on all the times he has witnessed me bloopsing. So this day, we were at the post office. The teller that was assisting me I could see was pregnant. I asked her when her baby was due. Without batting an eyelid she replied “In December and you?” to which I very quickly replied (in shock) “oh no, I am just fat!”

When we walked out of the post office Chad let out the laughter he was suppressing and wiping away the tears he said “Ah sorry ma”.  He didn’t seem that “sorry” to me 😊.

And with that dear reader we have come to end of this weeks tales.

Thank you for your support, I do apologise for the tardiness of publishing my blog of late. I promise to get back into routine. The family was home and so I was a bit distracted.

Stay well, warm and thanks always for being a part of my life.

Happy week ahead.

Yip, I know I am late this week, so sorry my dearest Dizabeth readers, I have been blessed to have my kids stay, and yip, I really am using them as my excuse.  First and foremost, I need to say to all my specials both in Gauteng and KZN, a heartfelt sorry for the anxiety and truly scary moments that occurred last week. I do believe none of us could even begin to comprehend the feelings of terror – I am so sorry you had to experience that truly bizarre occurrence.

This week I am touching on some of the Dizziness of Dizabeth. How I have well and truly perfected the art of placing my foot in my mouth!  Years ago, when we still lived in Durban, it was a beautiful hot and humid typical Durban day. Being December I was on leave; we were loaning the folks in law’s car. I was tidying our house before we set off for the beach when my mom-in-law rang to ask if I could drop them off at work as their car would not start. Genius idea I reckoned; I would continue with my tidying later. Grabbing the beach towels, some beach snacks, and cold drinks and after dropping the folks at work, we headed to Sun coast beach. The boys raced into the waves with their boogie boards. I settled with my YOU Magazine (Yip, I know I hate to admit it but to this day, I am a huge YOU magazine fan, always reading and commenting, on how stupid that person was to be in such a predicament. In all honesty on the rare occasions where we have found ourselves in a bit of a dodgy situation, as in the time we depended on Shelagh to lead us to a petrol station in Cape Town and didn’t we end up in the heart of very, very, scary neighbourhood. I keep saying “Ah when people read our story in YOU they gonna say, well they certainly asked for trouble being in that neck of the woods”. Chad was with us, fear, well and truly was written all over his face). Anyhow there I was lazing on the beach, with a warm salty, hazy breeze kissing the golden sand and shimmering waters.  The beach was quite busy. Next to me was a group of varsity students. I heard them laughing and commenting on how they had now seen it all. “Ah dude no way man, that is gross! Now I have seen it all!” they chirped as they laughed raucously. It was at this particular point (I have to make mention now, it had been at least half an hour) I became aware of a rather cool breeze down below, in my nether regions. I ever so casually glanced down. Horror of horrors there in the breeze blew my fanny hairs, I kid you not!!! In my race to get to the folks, I had changed my bikini top but not my – yip, I hate to admit this, but I hadn’t put on my bikini bottom. And there I lay in my oldest holiest panties ever! I waved frantically for the boys to get out of the sea grabbed my shorts quickly covering up my flippen nether region. Now dear reader I can tell you that was the last time I ever, ever wore or even kept old panties. I swear to this day the first peep of a hole and they are tossed in the bin.  And did I bollocks the boys! Oh, my word.  How dare them not frikken notice my fanny hairs dancing in the blady breeze.

It’s at this point I need to confess that I am also quite bad at assuming – and when I assume I make an ass of you and me. We were living in Durban, when I noticed the house across the road, which was usually abuzz with a sweet little family of twins, had become unusually quiet. I actually, gosh now that I think about this, not only do I assume, but I also hone into something, and am worse than a blady dog with a bone. (At the moment the neighbours are building, jeez do I get my frikken nickers in a knot literally every blady day as I hone into the drilling). So, I honed into this usually happy family house that was always abuzz with life. Their children were no longer riding their little black bikes around the garden after one other. “Gary I am telling you there has been a tragedy across the street. The police were there earlier in the week, and have you noticed how that security company keeps popping in?” On and on I lamented. I noticed the “father” had become a lonesome, forlorn shadow of the man he was. Of late he would sit at their pool area, staring into the murky waters. “I am telling you babe, those poor parents, clearly the twins had been racing around the pool on their little black bikes when they both (both nogal!) fell in and drowned. The more Gary tried to convince me to firstly mind my own blady business and not get involved the more I harped on and on about how tragic it was. Imagine how the mom feels – losing not one but both her kids. On and on and on I bleated (as only I can). On the Saturday afternoon, we were expecting friends of ours Tracy and Chris for a braai. “That is it babe, I am going across to see if I can cook them a meal”. As we were leaving Trace and Chris arrived. “Guys make yourselves at home, pour a drink, there has been the most tragic accident across the road, these poor parents have lost their kids in a drowning, can you see how they have even hung black material over all their windows”? Clutching a beautiful bouquet of flowers with Gary literally slinking behind me, I told our friends we will be back now. Approaching the house I whispered “Oh my word, it is so sad, this man is broken  – Cooee” I bellowed to the lonesome figure. He continued sitting, totally ignoring me. Again, I called to him. Finally, he heaved his body up and walked towards me with the enthusiasm of a sloth.  “Hi, I just wanted to come across and convey our deepest apologies and ask what I can do to help in this tragic time” on and on I chatted like a busy steam engine choffing across the fields. Choo! Choo! The man stared at me; confusion blatant on his face. Slowing my tone down completely, I again conveyed I wanted to provide a meal and please could he accept these flowers in a show of our condolences. Hesitantly he reached for the flowers as he answered me.  “The family that lived here have been evicted, the sheeting is over the windows, so passers-by don’t realise the house is empty. I am the security guard taking care till new tenants move in.” Turning around to comment to Gary, I saw him grumpily marching for home. I can still hear Tracy and Chris laughing hysterically.

When Chad was in grade two, in fact when both the boys were in primary schools, I would love when they had projects for homework. Oh, my word, I would get more than involved. I remember Ryan had a project – in fact if I am honest, if they had a choice of three – wouldn’t mama bear choose what the project would be about! And no, I definitely wasn’t a Tiger mom, I have no idea why, but I would dive in feet first and do their projects. I remember on two occasions with Ryan, the first one was on Guy Fawkes, the teacher was certainly most unimpressed when Ryan finished his presentation with a cracker for each child! The second incident, he was actually in high school. They had to carve a fish out of a bar of Lifebuoy soap. Well didn’t mama bear here carve the perfect fish.  I waited each day in anticipation when I fetched Ryan to hear what mark we/I had received.  I was frikken horrified when we failed. Anyhow Dizabeth is digressing again. So, we were with Chad and he had to do a project, I remember on this occasion the teacher gave him a zebra. He mentioned he wasn’t happy and would prefer to do it on his favourite animal, the cheetah. So didn’t mama bear write and ask the teacher if we could rather swop Zebbie Zebra for the Chad the Cheetah, which she duly allowed. (No doubt she had heard about me in the staff room!) We bought the cardboard, and all the relevant goodies, I cut on the pictures. The night before if was due thank goodness for Ryan. He casually commented: “Oh did Chad change his mind? I thought he was doing his project on the cheetah”. With a note of heavy irritation in my tone I replied, “Yes boy it is on the cheetah” (sigh sigh!) to which he replied “Mom those pictures are all of a leopard”. Well didn’t I quickly grab a black koki and draw the marking on all my blady leopards of the cheetah.  I don’t recall what mark Chad received. 

A few years back, I swear for someone who spends so many hours in Kruger I do confess I should have been more ofay than I was (although, promise I am now). I was at a school assembly for work. I was interacting with the children and asked who knew what animals were part of the Big Five. One little chap raised his arm, and I enthusiastically pointed him out and encouraged him to share his answer. He shouted out the cheetah as one of the Big Five. Ah well done I cheered handing him a prize. Once assembly was over one of the teachers sidled up to me and commented. BTW the cheetah is not one of the big five. Well didn’t I want to frikken plutz!

When I was still in advertising, Trish and I worked together. One day Trish was busy, and I was behind her desk at reception when the boss’s wife a paraplegic arrived. Trish asked, since I was right there would I mind opening for Susanne. No worries I replied as I pushed the button to open the glass door. I continued photo stating with the sound of bashing and banging in the background. Trish smiled at me and asked again. “Liz, would you mind opening for Susanne” no problem I replied as I again pushed the entrance button of the glass door. It was at this point, Trish coughed loudly, and indicated with her eyes for me to look at the door. There was Suzanne trying her utmost to both push the door open whilst wheeling herself through the door. What Trish had been asking of me was to please physically go and open the door!

Then there was the time Gary had been invited to a prestigious rugby match at Durban’s rugby stadium. Now this dear reader was not as much assuming but rather after consuming copious amounts of wine that I well and truly blued. When we arrived at the pre-game we were introduced to all the team members in the company. I chitty chatted with this one and that, there were about fifteen in total. We proceeded to the Durban Country Club for lunch, again I spent the whole of this time interacting with the various team members. After lunch we made our way across the road to the stadium. It was here that Gary well and truly wished he could have crawled into the closest sewerage pipe. One of the team members was standing at the entrance to the stadium handing all of us a cushion so we wouldn’t be sitting on the cold, hard concrete. Without batting an eye I replied “Not today thanks!” I thought he was a street vendor selling his wares.

Then dear readers there was the time, Gary and I were living in a flat in 7^th Avenue on the 4^th floor. (NO lifts however we were young and stairs were not the issue they can be today!) Our neighbour from across the street had gone away and asked us to feed their cat. No worries we said. Gladly we would feed her. We had our own cat, Kayleigh. The one evening we went to feed their cat, I cannot remember exactly what transpired, but we thought the cat had escaped. After much stressing we found the said cat, it was on the corridor of the block. After the whole stress of “losing” her we decided it a better idea to let her continue her weekend with us and our beloved Kayleigh. I remember the blady cat screeching the whole night. It well and truly wasn’t happy to be having a sleep over at our house. After basically not sleeping the whole night the following morning as I exhaustedly opened our curtains I happened to glance across the street, and there in the window of our friends, was their beloved cat. We had frikken caught and captured someone else’s cat.

And these stories are a frikken drop in the ocean of bloopsies I have and continue to make being me, Dizabeth and living the Life of Dizabeth.

I wish you all a peaceful week ahead. May you be blessed, stay safe and healthy. Those of you that are in my age category remember to book your vaccine slot. Mine is this coming Thursday. Shucks must add, I was super impressed, I have booked my vaccine through our local chemist. However yesterday I received a time and date for an appointment with Dischem. How on the needle (hahaha) are they? If you under 50 go register, as far as I know you are up next.

Much love till next week.

Mwah Mwah  

Word count: 1491

Ella sat staring, as the computer screen flickered “DELETE?” If only it was that simple.”

Her finger hovered over the “enter” key. Reflecting on how truly blessed they had been, until this moment. She looked down at Amy, contentedly watching as her mobile serenely floated above her, and was convinced her little bundle of joy was smiling.

“Please Lord, why can’t we just press “delete” to remove this unexpected nightmare?” She whispered.

How could this be? Why had she not noticed? Why had Warren kept it from her?

The sound of a car engine interrupted her thoughts, as she realized that would be Brittany returning from school. Next week my turn for lift club Ella reminded herself.

Switching off the computer she went downstairs with Amy in her arms.

Warren’s voice surprised her, as she descended the stylishly carpeted staircase, entering the marble-floored entrance hall “Honey, we’re home”.

“How wonderful you’re back, I thought you were only due to fly in tomorrow.” Ella said kissing Warren hello and handing Amy to him.

 “The business side over, I bought my three favourite girls a present, and hopped on an earlier flight,” Warren replied holding Amy in his left arm while retrieving two beautifully wrapped boxes and handing them to Ella. “Hello my baby girl, did you miss me Am’s, were you good for mommy?” asked Warren smothering Amy in little kisses.

As Madison busily ripped off her paper like a tornado tearing through town.

“Thank you Daddy I love her, she’s so pretty!” she said as she scrutinized her latest FROZEN doll.

“My word honey, by the time Amy can walk, she’ll have a different pair of shoes for every day of the week.” laughed Ella.

“I’ve got an idea, lets go out for dinner tonight, share a bottle of wine and catch up on the week ?” suggested Warren.

“Yay, can we go to the SPUR Daddy, please?” asked Madison jumping up and down.

“You’ll have to see what Mommy decides, pumpkin,” Warren said as he looked across at Ella. He decided she was seeming incredibly distracted tonight, not her usual self at all.

With Amy bathed and fed, and snuggled comfortably in her snuggle bug the family set off.  The waitress could not help but notice the closeness of the family unit, the unsurpassed love that flowed between them, as a mist would hug a rugged mountain face. Chatting incessantly the little girl jabbered on about her new best friend Hannah. While her mom gently reminded her to keep her voice down as her little sister was asleep.

“Honey, how did the mom’s meeting go today?” asked Warren when Madison stopped to take a huge sip of her double thick chocolate milkshake.

“It was great, as always. Tomorrow is clinic day, we’ll see how much weight our little cherub has gained,” replied Ella, wiping the milky moustache from Madison’s upper lip.

                                          *         *         *

Warren drove them home, the girls sound asleep. Whilst Ella sat quietly, still trying to clear her mind.

This must have been the reason that he had insisted his Dad move closer to them, so he too could be part of these last days. Had he told his dad and not her? Why would that have been, surely he didn’t believe he could hide the diagnosis from her forever?

Ella tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Her mind was a whirlpool of unanswered questions.

She awoke at first light, her mind clear of any thoughts until consciousness invaded. Reminding herself of the unbelievable news, which she had accidentally discovered whilst retrieving her Moms n’ Tots newsletter. An email from Dr Jerry’s rooms, confirming the appointment with the oncologist for Mr W.C. Dougherty on Thursday
11 am. To discuss suspected colon cancer and the various options, should treatment be required.

                                          *       *        *

Warren and Madison sat at the breakfast table sharing the plans and events of their day ahead. Thankful that Amy was still asleep; Ella scrambled the eggs and made the toast.

“Warren,” Ella said casually “I was thinking of going to see that new baby store a few blocks from your office on Thursday? We could have a browse through, and have a quick bite to eat. What do you say; could you spare me an hour or two?”

“Mm” replied Warren as he took a sip of juice “I’ll have to check my diary babe, but I seem to think I’m booked up all day Thursday. Perhaps we can make it early next week?”

That was all Ella needed to confirm her suspicions. She watched as two of the dearest people in her life drove away. Not before Madison had reminded her, that Amy was not allowed to play with her FROZEN collection. Ella watched her precious little bundle as she slept, and made the decision. To go full steam ahead, and plan the perfect holiday, an experience they would never forget, precious family time that would surely be their last. At this dreaded thought, sadness engulfed Ella’s heart.

“Around the World in Eighty Days Travel Agency, good day how may I be of service” Chorused the receptionist.

“Hello, I am wanting the absolute, ultimate family holiday. One that can easily accommodate a four-month-old baby, her five-year-old sister, my husband, and myself, what can you offer?”

 Whilst Ella filed away her holiday info she felt immense contentment and an overwhelming sense of achievement. She had successfully planned, what would be their best ever family holiday. One guaranteed to complete all Warren dreamt of experiencing before he died. And at the same time furnishing her and the girls, with the most beautiful memories and photos. He had provided well, their future would be secure. It was just the reality of adjusting to cope on a daily basis without him. All that remained was for her and Warren to have a heart-to-heart discussion. Tell him she knew and ask why he had chosen not to tell her. At the same time reveal her holiday plan. Then they would have to decide how to break this heart-rending news to Brittany.

The front door slammed shut as Madison came tearing inside “Mommy, mommy guess what Hannah got?” her innocent face filled with happiness as she ran into Ella’s waiting arms.

“I have no idea pumpkin, what can Hannah possibly have, that my angel doesn’t have?”

“You not going to believe me, guess, ok I’ll tell you, she got the exact FROZEN doll daddy bought me yesterday. So we are calling them Mary-Kate and Ashley, do you get it? Cos they like the Olsen twins on K-TV! Cool hey – you never let Am’s play with them hey Mom?”  

                                                      *    *    *

 “You surpassed yourself honey that was the most amazing Babotie I’ve tasted in a long while, thanks.”

“Glad you enjoyed it, I found it in the Mom’s n Tots Newsletter,” replied Ella wondering if this would be a good time to broach the subject.

“How about a nightcap, to complete a perfect meal, I think that’s just what the doctor ordered,” Warren said, fondly kissing Ella on the forehead.

How uncanny smiled Ella, taking the plunge.

“Talking about doctors, Warren is there something you are not telling me?” she asked cautiously.

“About?” Warren reached for the cognac.

“I accidentally found the email from the doctor’s rooms confirming your appointment on Thursday. Why didn’t you tell me honey?” Ella asked, her eyes filling with tears.

“Damn it” sighed Warren “I meant to delete that mail. To be totally honest babe, I really didn’t want to tell you until the diagnosis had been confirmed. You’ve got enough on your plate with Madison and Amy to look after. At this stage, the doctors aren’t even sure.  And to be totally frank with you, right now I don’t even think that Madison needs to know. She’s still too young to have to learn about the harsh realities of life. Thankfully Am’s won’t be affected -”

“Warren how do you suppose we can hide it from her, once your treatment begins you are not going to be the Daddy she knows, and when you are no longer with us?” Ella was incredulous.

The puzzled frown on Warren’s face slowly disappeared to be replaced with the most beautiful smile.

“Angel.”! he said joining Ella on their comfy leather couch.

“Oh my poor darling, I see what’s happened, you read the email and surmised it was me. Babe, as my wife whom I love dearly, you would be the first person I would tell. This appointment is for Senior Mr “WC Dougherty, my dad.

 “Your dad?” Ella uttered in amazement.

 “That’s why he has moved closer to us Ella.  He told me he’s been feeling out of sorts, we had the tests done and are awaiting the results, Hopefully, all will be jotted down as a scare, only time will tell, and that time is Thursday 11 am.”

On Sunday Gary and I (oh and of course Bandit) went for a hike with dear friends at Kaapsehoop. It is lovely out there. It is a little village with no shops, supermarkets, petrol stations, nothing. It is a little village with no shops, supermarkets, petrol stations, absolutely nothing. It is the quaintest and most gorgeous little village 30kms from Nellies, which is immensely famous as well as home to wild horses. It’s lost in time and doesn’t have any real mod cons. However, there are a fair amount of pubs and eateries. It is the quaintest and most gorgeous little village 30kms from Nellies and is immensely famous as well as home to wild horses. There is even a fund whereby people contribute and take care of these gorgeous wild horses that roam Kaapsehoop and surrounds.

The Wild Horses of Kaapsehoop

Across the road from the village is their cemetery. Not to sound weird or morbid but taking a walk through their cemetery is an amazing experience. It goes back centuries. In fact, our little province is jam-packed with history. In the by-gone era Cockney Liz lived (and performed) just up the road in Barberton. Please if you have a minute google Cockney Liz. An amazing lady and story. (And of course, she would be, her name alone says it all!)

Anyhow, the reason I opened with this tidbit of random information is the very fact that last week I recall stating that I had never seen such an ugly car as my dad’s Thunderbird. I don’t know if the universe was saying: “Really Liz, so you don’t regard the Thunderbird as a wonderous car? Well, how about this….” And there before my eyes, as we traversed home on the other side of the road, was this vision. A huge, I mean HUGE car driving ever so slowly and I mean ever so slowly towards Kaapsehoop. (I swear about 30 maybe at a push 40kms!)  and as you have no doubt realised it was a blady Thunderbird. This one was white. I was so gobsmacked it did not even enter my mind to take a photo of it or for that matter its occupants. It was a left-hand drive, which by the way so was my dad’s, but the driver in this car was wearing a cowboy hat.  I kid you not! A blady black cowboy hat. So, I guess there are small mercies I need to be thankful for when dad (and mom) drove ours. Oh, my giddy aunt look at me using the word “ours” they did dress as normal as possible for that time.

So, we are in Level 4 lockdown. I tend when I am not enjoying something, I tend to or wait a minute, god hope this is not the early onset of Alzheimer’s? As I do have quite a short span memory and thinking back I cannot remember every detail of last year this time. I often wonder if I stash memories I regard as crappy in the dark corners of my memory?  It is for this fact that I am extremely thankful for Facebook. Digressing again, So, Lockdown.  It was not all bad, been detained at home, in fact, it was an updated version of being gated or sent to my room in my youth. Which of you remember in your teen years, you would ask your folks permission to use the telephone? I would go through to their bedroom and obviously close the door. Before long there would be a pounding on the bedroom door with my mom bellowing “Elizabeth, times up.”  Yikes!. Yikes! when my mom used to say, “I don’t like that boy Elizabeth, he is bad news and will break your heart – trust me on this.” And as sure as nuts, the blady boy would prove her right, and break my heart. Hmm, I recall I definitely will not mention his name.  I really, really thought (because now I know it was not really loved) I loved him. He was in the army. I sat in typing class sobbing, I could not see the keyboards through my flood of tears. If I remember, I even made some excuse that I was sick and asked if I could go phone, my mom. (Who would have been sitting in her comfy sunny reading room reading about …yip you guessed it the UFO,s, and gods that go clickerty clackerty) And I phoned him, he was leaving to go back to camp. Anyhow, so the one “fateful” day I received a letter from him. After doing flick flacks and such, I locked myself in my room to read his news. And can you believe, he was two-timing me! My letter commenced “Dear Claire….” Yip, devastation personified.  I played Bread albums, I could not breathe from all the crying I did. But at dinner time, I would splash my face, put on a very happy front (so mom did not detect that she was right) after dinner I would return to my room listening to Bread repeatedly as I literally sobbed into my pillow.

Do you remember the stress before Lockdown? And the Toilet roll saga?

Digressing hugely but need to share this. My maid Patricia has brought her granddaughter with her today. Laetitia is playing happily in front of the TV and brushing her Barbie’s hair. So, I asked Patricia how old she is – she for the records is nine. Now, do you see where I am going with this? Charmaine and I were in standard five, which is by all calculations: Twelve. We were, it’s official – we were late bloomers.

So back to lockdown. The anticipation of what tomorrow brought, the trillions of unanswered questions. Would we be safe? Would we have enough food, how would we pay for our electricity when the meter ran out? How would we replace our food? When, we needed to replace the food which one us would be “us” and venture out? What if they arrested us for being out? Oh, my word, we all know what an overthinker I am. I do not think the shops had ever been so inundated with shoppers buying the likes of paints, puzzles, books, etc., I was finding the “prettiest puzzle” it had to be really pretty. I guess I thought that if it were pretty, it would inspire me more (it did not). In the end, I lay all the pieces out, and after many, many attempts at trying to engage Gary in this past time the pieces that did remain on the table gathered dust, whilst a few became play objects for Fraidy-Cat.  Each time I swept, sure enough, I would find another piece lurking under the couch. I did try – I sat for hours collecting all the same colours, then a piece of the puzzle and, and, and until eventually I admitted defeat and packed it away. It really is a beautiful picture of the stately library from someone’s very very wealthy home. 1 000 pieces, well I think it is 1000 pieces – will need to check this little issue with Fraidy?

Who joined the Masterchef groupies? I certainly did, I made my first ever rusks, which I was extremely proud of. I certainly did, I made my first ever rusks, which I was extremely proud of Gary very warily tried them adding: “These remind me of building blocks”, WTF? Such appreciation. Then my scones. Hmm, this created a tossing across the kitchen episode. Who knew how pathetically finicky scones are to make? Every utensil in the kitchen had a fine layer of flour over it for at least three weeks after that disaster. Not to mention the sticky dough all over my fingers. I made cake after cake, (no no no do not get ahead of yourselves now, it was “box” cakes!) now there is only so much cake your husband can eat. So then yip, I started giving to my neighbour. I even made and did an extremely fine job of onion rings. Now, no they were not exactly SPUR’s but hey I was super proud. Now, no they were not exactly SPUR’s but I was super proud. The issue here was Gary and I had a fight the night I lovingly made them. And because we were not speaking he refused to even eat. And because we were not speaking he refused to eat. So, I swear I left the whole hamburger, toothpick creatively spiked through the burger with the onion rings sashed over the toothpick, to entice him. And yip you guessed it. He was not enticed, not one iota. He did not eat them. I gave the whole burger and my gorgeous onion rings to Meeka! (our German shepherd who disliked boiled eggs).

It was in this era that I became the compulsive fan of Netflix that I still am today. I watched “Six Feet Under” I remember the music in the beginning, and how much that irritated Gary. So, yip for sure, I would hike up the volume something silly. Oh, my word the other truly randomly pathetic series I watched was called Big Love, it was about a guy who had three wives. (Polygamy and Amish fascinate me to no end)  It truly was ridiculous but yip I was addicted.

Also, an interesting challenge was meetings. ZOOM and TEAMS. I remember the first ever ZOOM meeting I attended, I had huge fisty cuffs with Gary (I know the poor man) as I was well and truly panicking and he tried to assist, well was not that not the correct thing to do at such a time! And however so proud I was of myself when I set up my very own meeting and sent out the invite. Sjoe, I was super proud of the techno IT whiz I had become. Ensuring my hair, makeup and top were spit spot as I sat with the pajammie bottoms and raggedy old slippers on. Dying to go to the loo but knowing you could not possibly leave for a few seconds as everyone would see! Needing therapy when I noticed one of my colleagues was signing in from Bali with the waves gently lapping in the background as a gentle cool breeze tickled the palm trees. Lying awake that night, thinking how the F … did she manage to get out before hard lockdown began and when the heck was she even intending to return? Only to realise as time went along that it was actually a blady background setting on her computer and I could also choose any destination (I never did).

Being super creative with birthday gifts…. Yanking plants out the ground and repotting them doing a drive-by and leaving the birthday girl’s gift at their gate. Remember how restricted we were? Not even being allowed to clothes shop oh yes and no makeup purchases. Not even being allowed to clothes shop, oh yes, and no makeup purchases. Shock and horror that rule was for me – now you lucky if I even pick up my wand of mascara. Shock and horror that rule were for me now you lucky if I even pick up my wand of mascara. Stocking up with wine. Oh, my word, I bought soooo much. Then lockdown lingered and lingered, and my wine diminished further and further until the day I had to succumb to the black market. No, you are right, I did not have to succumb but I did! I remember paying R400 for two bottles of wine. Now, I would just think toughies and not drink (hmm or would I? Very, very, easy to say this knowing I have stock this time.) Yikes, I hate to admit this, but I recall on my birthday even asking a dear friend who has a restaurant if she would mind “loaning” me a bottle (we all know I asked for more than one). I recall when she delivered it. We had this clandestine meeting, she drove to my house, I casually came out and after sweeping the neighbourhood with my beady eye I took the illicit parcel from her whilst we both scanned the neighbourhood for passing cop cars or neighbours with their cellphones and cameras who may capture our illegal action! To this day, Gary has no idea I did that little indiscretion. He truly does not tolerate such illicit behaviour.

Oh my word and on this note, what about in December, the night of the 30^th I think? Uncle Cyril was planning to have a family meeting. I raced, no jokes, I raced to Woolworths and bought – no jokes again eight – yip, eight bottles of my favourite screw-top wine. I consumed some and had four remaining. Well, we at check-in at Cape Town International and don’t they ask who does the wine belong to. So me being me I proudly reply “That would be me” to which the lady just casually replied” Oh I am sorry” as she literally I swear it was in slow motion – she took all four bottles and threw them in the wheelie bin across the way. I will forever forget the sound of those bottles smashing. Now don’t ask why didn’t I place them in my suitcase. Because dear reader my suitcase was already 3 kgs over, there was no space, however, had I known my fate I would have frikken hoiked out items and left them right there and then at the check-in and hidden my beloved bottles in between my clothes. Now when I am trying to placate myself I will always say “It always works out as it should” and that dear reader is what I chanted to myself over and over again as we fly across the skies towards home and a very bleak house with no wine in it!

So, when I wasn’t planning illicit booze deliveries, yanking plants out the garden, baking or watching TV, and of course mastering my ZOOM meetings, I would love to read and paint/sketch. I have never been much of a Michelangelo or Picasso, but I do have fun doodling. In fact, I even went through this extremely and rare phase where I reckoned, I would start selling my “great” works of art. In fact, I went through this extremely and rare phase where I reckoned, I would start selling my “great” works of art. I started a Facebook page,  pondered over the name, having voted with my loved ones which was the best name. I even was going to get a stamp designed.  I emailed various printing companies enquiring about prices. They all came back with their various prices, but they were all saying Oodles of Noodles. So, typical me, I flooked them – blady hell these people cannot even get my blady name correct/ Blah Blah on and on I went. So, typical me, I flooked them – blady hell these people cannot even get my blady name correct. Blah, Blah on and on I went. Until I happened to look back on the original mail I had sent. Yip, it was yours truly here that started the whole Oodles of Noodles saga instead of Oodles of Doodles. (I swear sometimes I have no words for this Dizabeth woman!)

So, when I wasn’t working, watching TV, baking/cooking, painting/sketching or reading I decided I would exercise. I hauled the exercise bike out of retirement, dusted it down, found the “ideal” spot on the verandah. I even downloaded a movie from Netflix, my brilliant plan was to peddle, peddle, peddle as I watched the movie. It was actually “Grace of Monaco”. Suffice to say, to this day I have no idea how the movie evolved after maybe five minutes. I swear I had the bike on the easiest gear and even that did not help. So, whilst the bike gathered more and more dust, and I walked past it each morning to go and walk around our pool, which did not last too much longer either. Before long I was back on the couch, slouching and the only exercise taking place in my whole entire being…yip – my eyes! Oh, and on the weekends my left arm (raising my wine glass to my mouth).

I do need to add at this point (brag, in other words) these days I walk every Saturday morning (yes, yes only on a Saturday morning) but we do well. This past Saturday we did 8kms. I truly love my Saturday mornings. My dearest friend Pam and I walk. My mouth also never stops moving, as I talk up a storm and dear Pam, well her ears are well and truly exhausted when we head home).

So, this week I have kept the best for last. Of course, we all have our Lockdown tale. And here is ours. Firstly, the VERY first night, no wait it was the last night of “freedom” we (me hit a major panic as I was going to have to cook each night – even weekends. So, we had our last takeaway, little did we know then just how blady long it would be before we had a chance of another one). Anyhow so we were out getting our takeaway, it was weird, remember “the” storm of storms when my dad’s Thunderbird saved the day? Well, it was one of those storms, we had locked Meeka (German shepherd not keen on boiled egg) inside. Well, when we walked into our house, my Lordy did we have some cleaning to do. All I will say at this time is it was as if a cow had been let loose in our house. The poo … I have no words!  I used a whole roll (no exaggeration) a whole roll of kitchen towel to clean up. The toilet – no jokes blocked – and as we all know now, but not then, it would take months before we were able to phone a plumber!

Anyhow, so our last night of freedom, in fact, that night the whole country shut down at midnight. The very next night. Ok, let me paint a picture for you. Our front door is glass, directly opposite our front door is an entrance table, on this table sits a beautiful glass goldfish bowl with three goldies in it. Above the glass bowl is a variety of wooden blocked photos of us and our precious little grandson Tide.(Thank you Jacks ) Yip, you have guessed what occurred. It was about 8.30pmish, Gary decided it was time for bed. So off he went to bed while I (for a change) was watching, yip, no prizes for guessing, TV! The next thing there is one almighty smash of glass – all types of mayhem broke loose. I screamed for Gary who came running through totally starkers’ wielding a hockey stick. I had screamed for his help as one of the blady wooden block photos somehow had fallen, hit the bowl, which of course shattered. Three little goldfish’s worlds turned upside down as a tsunami exploded. As I waded through the litres of water whooshing all over the floor, looking for my poor fish amongst the broken glass and pebbles, Gary looked totally confused as he noticed the front door was still intact. He had assumed (to this day I have noooo idea why, as we live in such a safe country!!!) anyhow he had thought we were being attacked by thieving gentlemen (or women?) Those three little fish are still alive to tell the tale. They are way way bigger now, and still on that same table, the blocked photos are still erected on the wall and the fish now reside in a sturdy tank.

And that is my lockdown tale. I do believe once I have posted this I will remember heaps more of lockdown occurrences I currently cannot recall. And as I finished typing this, I do remember the day the house flooded. Yikes, I cannot remember if this was in the early Lockdown days? Anyhow, it definitely was not that night Meeks made her mark in more than one way throughout the house. But it was during lockdown. We had a flash flood during the night. I woke to Gary saying the house is flooded. There truly was nothing to do but slosh our way back to bed and deal with it in the morning. Which is what we did. I cannot tell you how badly the house had flooded. It was truly at least 2cm deep. Gary and I were sweeping the water nonstop when Gary decided the best idea would be for us to leave the floors to dry out. Really. Was he serious? At this time I must tell you it was an overcast mizzy day we had woken too. How the heck did he figure it would dry out without us sweeping it out. I figure he knew what I would do, so he said he was going shucks I cannot even recall where he was going because in actual fact there was nowhere to go, but there again there must have been somewhere to go, because go he did. So, me being me, I continued sweeping up water. I was in the spare room which is also the room where the second TV resides. I needed to move the TV cabinet to sweep behind it, so there I was unplugging plugs and pushing and heaving this blady heavy cabinet when whamo I slipped and literally fell into the TV. The TV fell off the cabinet, I speedily retrieved the TV placing it back on the cabinet, and did a quick check to see how it was. Now let me tell you my heart was pounding ten to the dozen, firstly, I flippen slipped and donnered myself and secondly, I had had a real “close shave” of the TV breaking, which thank goodness it had not. So, when Gary returned, I did not think there was much point in telling him my blow-by-blow falling experience. I, therefore, told him the shortened version. A decision I very much regretted after the fact. Gary bellowed my name later that night. I went to check what could possibly have gotten him to raise his voice in such a tone. Entering the TV room I knew – Ah, Ah! oh here comes trouble. He had put the TV on ….and the blady screen was shattered. The LSD thingy within the actual TV had shattered.  Can you believe he truly did not speak to me for three – yes three frikken days as he said I had …. wait for this ….. get ready for this …hold on to your seats …. he said I had purposely, YIP you read correctly. I had purposely in temper because he had gone to the shop (or wherever the heck he did go?) I had smashed the TV. Do you know to this day he still believes this.? Sigh Sigh! I mean take a minute to think this thought through. Me – Dizabeth who never stops talking about TV – purposely smashed the TV. Yeah right!? Sigh Sigh! ? Sigh Sigh!

And that, dear friends, I reckon is our continuing lockdown tale. Let’s hold thumbs that Level 4 breaks this, the third wave. Stay safe out there.

Thank you for all your kind words. I truly am so, so lucky to have each and every one of you in my life.

Stay safe, much love for now.

Word count: 1256

There it was again. The scratching, rustling sound in the darkness, just outside the window. And it definitely wasn’t a branch this time. Dan had cut that back last week.

It’s time to settle this, time for us to move on he thought to himself. At that precise moment, Hannah walked into the lounge “Dan what is it, what’s wrong?” she asked with a note of concern in her voice.

 Dan could never reveal the reason as to why he was so anxious. He knew precisely what the noise was about.

 On a bright and lazy Sunday two year’s previously Dan had awoken to a beautiful Sunday morning. One that was going to be the most perfect birthday, for a truly awesome mom. A specially planned day that any family would love to experience. Susan was still asleep and he could hear the children begin to stir in their rooms. He lazily dragged himself out of bed and went to check on the children, let the dog out and put the kettle on.

“Daddy Daddy please can we have ice cream for breakfast?” pleaded Madison.

“Ah yes please Daddy then mommy won’t have to make us breakfast on her special day” chorused Sam in the background.

“Please Daddy….please” they begged in unison.

Why not Dan thought to himself, as he got two bowls out of the cupboard and Madison retrieved the ice cream from the freezer.

Easier mess to clean Dan thought to himself as he spooned coffee into the mugs, today is going to be great. The children tucked into the ice cream as Dan climbed the stairs with a mug of coffee for Susan.

“Honey time to wake up. Come on sleepyhead today’s your day, let’s get it started” Dan said as he entered their bedroom. Susan stretching lazily, smiled lovingly up at Dan.

“Are the kids sorted?” asked Susan as she climbed out of bed.  

 The morning rolled on as a lazy log would cruise down the river. The children already dressed waited excitedly as Dan and Susan readied themselves. Once dressed the family set out in their Jeep as Captain chewed on his bone wondering where they were off to today.

 “I spy with my little eye something beginning with S!” Susan challenged the children as Dan drove on. “Street light?” shrieked Madison “No sand?” shouted Sam. Susan laughingly replied, “Nope none of those try again ….”

Before long they were at their destination, which Dan had been secretly planning for what seemed to him ages in the making. A boat ride to see the Whales in Hermanus. Susan smiled and gave Dan a hug, “My dream finally come true thank you darling, I am so delighted, how did you manage to get us on the boat? You said they were fully booked all season?”  

 As the boat bobbed along the water, the whales entertained the family in a way no one could have ever imagined. The adult whales breaching through the brilliant blue water, with fountains of water cascading down while blowing through their blowholes. Moms and tots oblivious to the world around them, just been together. Susan’s ultimate dream been fulfilled before hers’ and her beloved family’s eyes. Back on shore, the family enjoyed a scrumptious lunch at an idyllic fish and chips cafe chatting excitedly about their incredible adventure and watching the sea lap up the shore as excited families passed the restaurant discussing their own adventures. Susan sipped on her chilled glass of wine as she looked at the faces of Madison and Sam and quietly reflected on what a fortunate woman she was on this her 39th Birthday. The car was much quieter on the journey home as the children, tummies full, nodded off.

Susan and Dan sat in comfortable silence as Dan drove. Both deep in thought over the incredible whale experience. No sooner had they driven into their driveway when the children were awakened by Captain’s overzealous yapping. Delighted to have his family home again. As the summer day continued towards evening the family decided to have a late afternoon swim. Dan and Susan had a quick but refreshing dip in the cool pool water, whilst Madison shrieked with excitement as she did her imitation of the whales breaching and blowing.

“Watch mom, watch dad look how high I can blow my water” she called as she ducked under the water and blew through her snorkel.   Sam watching from the safety of the swimming pool steps, not as brave as his sister but truly in awe of her antics. Dan and Susan continued chatting as Madison entertained them. Soon she was tired out by her antics so joined Sam running in and out of the sprinkler. The pool now a distant memory.  Sam sprayed the hosepipe high into the sky “Look mom, look dad here is my whale blowing …..cool hey?”

“Honey how about hamburgers on the Weber, sound good for dinner?” asked Dan. Susan lazily stood to go get the patties and butter the rolls as Dan prepared the fire.

“Not tonight Honey, this is your day off” Dan steered Susan back to her Lounger and disappeared indoors. Susan’s last thought as she drifted off for a quick 40 winks was how stunning her birthday had been as the laughter of the children faded into her dreams.

“Susan! Susan for God’s sake wakes up!” Dan was standing above her hysterical. As reality slowly set in Susan looked about confusedly. What was the commotion about she wondered? As she tried to focus she heard in the far-off distance the sound of sirens that seemed to be coming closer and closer until they were driving into their driveway. Panic setting in she looked around and noticed the little lump covered with a blanket. “Oh no, please Lord Please No” – her scream engulfing the peace and quiet of the neighbourhood.

                                                            ***

Dan now realized the scratching noise would never go away. For the past two years, it had occurred at this exact time. The anniversary of Madison’s death. In fact the anniversary of the death of the McCauley family.

 It had all happened so fast that tragic afternoon. Madison had decided to venture back to the pool and while she played her whale game again. Sam had tired and gone to watch “Peppa Pig”. While Dan was in the kitchen cutting tomatoes, buttering rolls, chopping onions. Susan was lost in her dreams. Madison was alone, caught in the creepy crawly and fighting for her last breath. She slipped away into the darkness of death and no matter how hard the paramedics tried little Maddie was lost to the world. Susan never forgave herself and secretly never forgave Dan. They drifted apart. Sam following along in his own silent world. Susan filed for divorce. She and Sam moved inland. Far from the sea with not a pool in sight. Dan never had the heart to sell their home. Those happy but distant memories would be forever wouldn’t they, he often asked himself. 

However, as is with life, time does not heal all wounds but life goes on, thought Dan. It was time to sell the house. He never had the strength or courage to reveal to Hannah, his second wife, the true reason for the scratching noises. Only he knew that scratching was little Madison lost to the world. Confused as to what had happened. Scratching to come inside. To come home. After all it was her home, wasn’t it?

Last week we took a journey together with my dearest friend Charmaine at the helm. This week I want to make mention of my dearest friend Trish. Now I can assure you, dear reader, I am not about to do a tribute each week. Promise, it’s just that last week was relative to Charmaine, and this week, Trish reminded me of a few crazy stories that I felt were worth sharing. Thank you, Trish.

Like most young girls, my folks were pretty much embarrassing( and uncool). The other pertinent factor here was they only ever used to lift us to and from school – erm NEVER! Ok, that is a bit of an exaggeration my dad used to give us a lift to school. But I do reckon that was purely because he would be passing the school on his way to work. My mother on the other hand. Stayed home and spent her carefree morning, sitting in her sunny comfy reading room – reading all about UFO’s, guides, and mysterious gods that went clickety clackety.

My dad had a blue Ford Granada. He had I do not actually know what he had done but the blady thing would have this true ‘vroom vroom’ sound to it, at robots especially. Anyhow this car when it was running was his baby. The one morning as I casually waited for him to unlock, I drew a heart (hmm I seemed to enjoy doing this, if not on desks then on car windows) so I drew this heart from the condensation on the windows. Oh, my giddy aunt, did he go ballistic. Needless to say, that was a once-off that I never dared attempt with his beloved car again. He inevitably would begin his day in the grumpiest mood. He was as I have previously mentioned, so cantankerous, a grumpasaurus of note. And I swear the car knew this, so most mornings would play along, and not start. He would grunt “Ah! I can’t take this god damn aggravation”  in fact, this sentence was a part of his everyday life. He loved saying that and would commence his sentence with a “Do me a favour…” and you knew by those few words here comes trouble. Although I must add, he had a wonderful heart. He truly was a very kind and caring soul, who worried more than the worrier statue – you know what I am meaning hey? Or wait a minute was that a statue called The Thinker? Anyhow he worried. A trait that Karen and I as well as Chad, can you believe, so young (Chad) has inherited.

Ok, I started this a few days ago, now to cast my mind back, what was my point! I was rattling on about my dad, hmmm oh yes, so he would give us a lift to school (when Charmaine and I were working at the newspaper he used to lift us there as well). Anyhow, he would smoke up a storm, he was a chain smoker. Mind you, me, and my little moving red cigar lounge did I perhaps follow in Father Dear’s footsteps more than I thought? Me thinks so! But dad would crank up the air conditioning something truly bizarre. Within five minutes of traversing in dad’s car, you firstly could not see your hand in front of your face because of the smoke, and to make matters worse, not only could you not see your blady hand, but you also could not feel it either! It was more pleasant being on the top of Everest than in his car. (Actually, I wouldn’t know as I have never been up Everest). We would arrive at our destination with a red, runny nose, and a frozen body.

So as you have gathered dear reader dad loved cars. American ones in particular. In fact, he should have been born American. The majority of his records (LP’s aka long-playing records as in music) were all about “the red, white and blue” the American flag. I need to mention at this point he loved his music, a fantastic trait I acquired from him. He had (still has actually I now have them and treasure them) an amazing record collection. Anyhow as I was saying he also had this bizarre way when in a crowd he would start conversing with an American accent, a true twang. We would be WTF has happened to dad.

Anyhow the one-day Karen, Vaughan (my brother), and myself were gadding around the house when we heard a nonstop roar of thunder reverberating off the walls and engulfing our surrounds. We noticed no dark foreboding weather had rolled into our neighbourhood and yet still there was this boom, boom, or was it vroom vroom? Curiosity won and outside the three of us ventured. Oh, my word. There in the driveway was this gigantic really, really ugly shiny black, frik it was enormous it took up the whole driveway and standing next to this anomaly was my dad! He had bought a Thunderbird. Yes, dear reader, a blady Thunderbird. For those of you silently asking what the hell is a Thunderbird? It is a 1950’s American car. This is a blady Thunderbird.   

This photo I swear does not begin to convey just how blady big and awfully looking this car was.

It truly, to this day is the ugliest and biggest car I have ever seen. It had fire engine red leather seats and doors, there were only two, but they were heavier than a bag of cement. Which, no I have never carried but just the expression of those that I have seen carrying a bag it clearly is hellish heavy. It was also a left-hand drive.

So, my siblings and I detested this car. Dad “apparently” bought it for mom. Um,
I don’t think so but yip she did drive it. She was a very petite woman so you can imagine her behind the wheel. I recall the day the brakes failed. Actually, thinking back now it must have been so funny seeing this monstrous car roaring down the road, with three kids and a woman in it. The kids’ faces all pulled as the wind blew rampantly in their faces and the woman with her hair “tornado-ing” behind her. I am very sure no one even tried to rescue us, as they could clearly see this car was a ten-ton solid free wheelin’ thing cruising down that slight incline. Everyone knew, there would be no trying to stop it. Plus, it was heavier than a frikken German tank so when it did come to a stop the occupants would be as safe as houses. I cannot say the same for whatever it crashed into.  I just remember mom being extremely dramatic on that occasion. I don’t really recall what the outcome was but clearly, we all made it out alive. Let me tell you about the day this monster did well and truly save the day for my sister, all her friends and me and all my friends.

Oh, my word, there was one of those bolt out the blue horrendous storms: thunder, lightning, hail, purple skies, tornado-ish winds, the whole shebang. There were even those girls that were professing this was the day the world ended. So, yip you get the idea, this was one truly badass storm. Now, remember we used to walk home from school (in fact it was heaps of fun, incredibly social we would stop at Glenashley café buy 20 cents Wilson’s toffees so we would have 20 as they were one cent each and we would chew and chat all the way home). As we walked our little group would each reach their home and the rest would continue until we were all home (clearly you get the idea here and very sure you could easily work out 20c so yip 20 toffees). The storm timed itself perfectly and made its spectacular appearance as the home time bell chimed. As we were deciding on what our best plan to get home would be, I reckon we must have noticed, as this time we most definitely would not have heard the arrival of my dad’s glorious, life-saving Thunderbird. There before our eyes, was my dad and his Thunderbird. Well let me tell you, dear reader, we had never been so happy to see this car. We were soaked to the bone, and all the girls bombarded that heavy car door as a force to be reckoned with, together we yanked it open easier than it is to open a screw-top bottle of your favourite wine (Yip I do screw top, how cheap am I, but it is Woolworths) and scrambled onto the back seat. We welcomed that wide expanse of red leather seats, as we all toppled into the back. Once we had all embarked dad confidently drove us through the hectic storm delivering all our friends safely to the homes.

Whilst on the subject of lifting. I don’t know why but I recall the night my dear Trish and I decided we would hitchhike home. I cannot remember where we had been partying, and why we didn’t have safe lifts home? But I recall as clear as the dark night, we decided to hitch. My word imagines that now. Although with Uber and the likes I guess it isn’t necessary at all these days. So, there was Trish and I we were on the M4 (the freeway in Durban that leads to the Northern burbs and has the most amazing sea view on the majority of the route), and this yellow car pulls up, and inside is the sweetest young man. (Yip you have a point there, at this point we didn’t know if he was the sweetest young man or a serial killer). He gave us a lift home and as we traversed obviously, he wanted to know where we were going, etc., well it turned out dear reader, he worked for a company that Trish’s dad was the Exec Director of, and it is at this point I need to state, Trish’s mom was also extremely strict, in fact, both her parents were. She (me as well) would have been gated for the rest of our lives had both sets of parents any inkling of what we did that night. Trish had many, many months never mind weeks of sleepless nights, so, so worried that Mike would somehow slip up and tell her dad he met her and how he met her! One word here: guilt I reckon caused those sleepless, overthinking the situation nights. Anyhow after that Mike became a fairly good friend (no Trish did not pay him to be her friend) and yes, I have to admit a wonderful taxi. In fact, it’s a very small world, a very good friend of mine actually knows Mike to this day. Recently, she was at a mutual wedding, and apparently, when she mentioned me, they had a catch-up. However, to this day when I ask her what he told her she very conveniently changes the subject. Note to self: Follow up on this.

Another occasion where I dared hitchhike, as far as I remember my friend and I were coming back from Newcastle, yes that’s right. We had gone to her folks for the weekend in Newcastle. Yes, you read correctly dear friend, I did say Newcastle. What is there to do there? I hear you ask. We had the best time. We visited the country club I recall we really, had the best time. Anyhow so we were driving home, and the bonnet of her car literally blew up blocking her vision. When we had finished peeing ourselves with laughter and realized the seriousness of what had happened, we phoned for help and ended up leaving a day later. Anyhow, we ended up hitchhiking somewhere along the route of our trip. And these guys picked us up. They were in fact very unsavory and consuming plenty of Brandy n coke which Tracy had the forethought to join them. Of course, I was gobsmacked “you got to be kidding Trace, and we end up in some ditch for others to read about in the YOU magazine. After reading the said article they sure to say, ja well those girls looked for trouble and found it!” This I know dear reader because it is what I say when I read a dodgy story and yes, I do read YOU. (I know I know!!) So, there we were both gulping down sips of this out the bottle which we were sharing with these unsavory’s nogal. Yikes! Really, I cannot believe the things we did in our youth (Tut-tut!). But once again, I am still here to tell the tale, so thanks Tracy for your genius plan. The tale ended happily with both of us making it safely home although we, well me was despo for the loo eventually I recall, yip you guessed dear reader we stopped on the side of the freeway. (Shock and horror!) My word you know if my folks had known the half of it, I reckon I would still be living at home under lock and key.   

Now the next story is not as unsavory and actually is quite a neighbourly feel-good story. My beloved little red cigar lounge was part of our family for many moons. In fact, even when we first moved here (Nelspruit) I used to lift the neighbour Nikki’s kids to school. So, this little car did many school trips both in KZN and here. Anyhow, this day, Chad was in grade two at La Lucia Junior Primary. I had raced through the morning traffic (I was always running late, always) and had dropped Ryan off at Virginia, and next stop Chad. We gathered his school and swimming bags and high-tailed it into the school, for some arb reason my passenger door would not close. I don’t recall that bothering me as it would now. Nowadays you would probably come back to an empty space where the car had been. (There was a time when this little red bomber was stolen but we got her back). So, I get back to the car this morning and the parking lot is dead, dead quiet. Not a soul in sight. Bear in mind I was late. The next minute another mom’s taxi comes haring around the corner. Mom and son jump out and race into the school grounds. It was my dear, dear friend Carol. Once she returned from dropping Craig at his class, she very kindly helped me tie my car door closed so it didn’t swing out on my way to work. Thank you dearest Carol for saving me that day.         

Well, dear reader that is my tale of today. Wishing you all an awesome day/evening ahead. Stay well and safe wherever you may be in our wonderful, albeit topsy turvy world.
Thanks for your encouraging comments and kind words. I am so chuffed you all enjoying this journey as much as I am, sharing Life with Dizabeth.

Take care – Much love always

Word count: 1464

“Robert none of this makes sense. That dent was not there before I went on conference.”

Mom, perhaps it was Kate?”

Sighing heavily Moira retreated inside.

“You remember she asked if she could loan your car, while hers was in for a service?” asked Robert, hot on her heels.

“My boy, how do you suppose Kate could have dinged the car when if you remember clearly, yes she did ask to use the car. But ended up getting a lift. She took the car out the garage for your dad – that was it!”

“Ja mom and maybe, just maybe she bumped it taking it out of the garage?”

“You were the one who knew I would be away. You know where the keys are kept. Do you take me for a complete fool? Please bear in mind I can see the driver’s seat has been adjusted to accommodate you” said Moira resignedly.

“Just admit it Robert, I will not tolerate deceitfulness.”

“Ah, Mom it really isn’t a biggy. Bet Dad won’t even notice.”

“Oh, so now you admitting it was you?”

“Mom it was an accident. Do you really think I woke up and thought hey today. I am gonna dent mom’s car.”

“Then please take the time to explain where and what you were doing in the car?”

“Okay just chill and listen to my story please Mom.”

“Remember before you left, you asked me to walk the dogs to the vet for their rabies inoculations?”

“Mm I do” replied Moira.

“Cool so I phoned Mitch – I asked if he wanted to help me take the dogs to the vet.”

I had leashed Instinct and while I was getting Dakota sorted, Mitch comes in and says “Hey Rob, it’s so miff having to walk all the way, why we don’t take the car?”

So I replied “Ah dude serious? You want to come to my funeral man?”

“You know my old man will go ballistic if he finds out, whew man you’ve witnessed his temper enough times haven’t you?”

Of course, Mitch grabbed the opportunity and started teasing me “Oh okay, I forgot you a mommy’s boy, plus I bet you can’t even drive.”

“And you know me Mom, don’t challenge me hey!” So I went and got the keys. After a hectic struggle, we got Dakota into the car. Instinct panting and slobbering from the back seat trying to get his fat Labrador body into the front with me.

I turned the key and the engine purred into life.

We were reversing out the driveway and next thing the dogs start growling and snarling mega at each other.

For a split second I took my hand off the steering wheel to pull Instinct away from Dakota. Wham! Next thing I’ve hit the wall, seriously though Mom, it was a gentle nudge, I had slowed down hugely I promise mom.”

***

Moira took a welcoming sip of her tea. She watched as the sun’s rays crept through the window like a can of yellow paint spilt on a white tiled floor, as she reflected over the situation.

What Robert had done in the scheme of things wasn’t that big a deal. There were worse things that could happen. A dent in the car was not the end of the world. Well not to her, but what would Mike say?

He would be home soon and after such an intense business trip coupled with a long flight.

Perhaps it would be best to leave the news until he had had a good night’s rest. Anything to delay the tornado that would unfold when he found out.

Her tea finished Moira climbed the ornate iron-clad staircase to Robert’s room tapping gently before she entered. He lay sprawled across his double bed reading the latest “Rugby SA”magazine.

“Robert I’ve thought about what you did, your actions have reactions, as I am sure you have learnt. However, firstly, you were very wrong to take the car without permission. Secondly, to even contemplate driving without a licensed driver beside you, I am not interested in you been challenged or even peer pressure. If Mitch told you to jump in the fire would you my boy? You’ve done the crime so speak and when your father returns you will serve the time.”

***

The plane flew through the clouds. Parting then as easily as candy floss disperses in a child’s grasp. While Mike diarized what was next on his agenda.

With Robert at rugby practice, Moira prepared dinner distractedly.

Recalling the stressful occasions their family had experienced, because of Mike’s torrid temper. The time Robert accidentally threw the cricket ball and broke the lounge window. The drama and utter unpleasantness they had endured. When Kate had innocently tried to boil an egg in the microwave. The blast as the egg exploded. Moira smiled to herself as she recalled that day. Although Mike had certainly not seen the funny side always the serious side, the “But what if side. The worst that had happened that day was cleaning all the egg debris out of the microwave. The classic expression on Kate’s face as the sound of a shotgun been fired engulfed the kitchen – her shocked reaction – “No way Mom, how radical was that what an “EGG-stravanga!” she whispered as she tried to conceal her laughter.

Moira expertly chopped the onions.

If only Mike would learn to lighten up, life would be so much easier and pleasant.
I realise he has a stressful job, with plenty of pressure, deadlines to meet, CEOs to answer to when budgets aren’t met. But before we know it the kids will be grown and gone. We will never have this time again.

***

“Hey come on Rob, that’s the second try you’ve missed.” Bellowed Rob’s rugby captain.

“Sorry man, I’m so not here today: replied Rob apologetically.

“No worries man. But make sure our Try scorer is back tomorrow.”

“Cool man promise he will be. Just so guttered my old man comes back today and I am going to get geared wholly because of my old lady’s car.”

Rob cycled home wondering what punishment would befall him this time. It hadn’t been a major dent, shucks, he’d hardly felt the bump.

Mike filled the entranceway as he entered the front door. Moira sighed quietly, hoping that he didn’t happen upon the dent tonight. Let’s have a peaceful family dinner, catch up on all the news before the dreaded fire of fury begins.

“Hey Dad what’s up? How was Cape Town? Did you check the mountain? Hope you weren’t affected as badly as we’ve been with all this load shedding” Robert chatted nervously.

“Hi Honey. Hey my boy, besides this pathetic load shedding all went according to plan, thanks for asking. Honey, how did your conference go? Boy oh boy I so need a whiskey.” Mike said as he undid his tie and made his way to the liquor cabinet. “Ready for a glass of wine honey?”

“Mm sounds wonderful, dinner shouldn’t be much longer.” Said Moira.

The family sat outdoors as dusk crept over and the first star sparkled like a diamond against a darkening sky. A calm cool breeze blew across the Grecian styled patio, while the family caught up on the last couple of days.

“I really am pleased at the progress I made this trip” said Mike contentedly.

“So, how did your conference go Honey, you haven’t said?”

“Oh you know how it is. Hectic. Flying in and out, but at least its over for the year.”

“Yes, I have to agree the past few weeks really have been manic haven’t they?

Robert how’s the practice going, do you reckon you will crack the 1^st team this year?”

asked Mike.

“I have no doubt Dad, I’m living the dream!”

“Glad to hear it son. Any news on how Kate’s service went on her car, what was the damage?”

“I haven’t heard as yet Mike. She is still house-sitting with Bianca. She should be home this weekend and –”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt honey, but talking about damage, sorry about the dent on your car. Damn I kept meaning to mention it to you when I rang home. It completely slipped my mind, after I dropped you off at the airport, I was incredibly distracted. Wondering about my meeting and I misjudged the darn pole in the parking lot. I know it’s not major, but we must get a couple of quotes, and get it fixed. Anyhow as you were saying …..”

“Way to go Mom, what did I tell you, all is fine at the end of the day –” Robert said, relief flooding his entire being as him and Moira exchanged a high five in the kitchen ten minutes later.